mm 
 
 University of California Berkeley 
 
 Gift of 
 Jack M. Forcey 
 

 i 
 

 1SBP 
 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 CIVILIZATION is a war a war of light with darkness; 
 of truth with falsehood ; of the illuminated intellect and 
 the rectified heart with the barbarism of ignorance and the 
 animalism of the savage. 
 
 The present work portrays a single phase of this sublime 
 conflict. It recounts one of the thousand campaigns of this 
 war. It is an attempt to condense into a single volume, and 
 give an adequate literary expression to, the thrilling history 
 of the struggle between the White man and the Red man for 
 the possession of this continent. It is also intended to be a 
 memorial to a race of heroes. Other countries have esteemed 
 their earliest heroes as worthy the song of the poet and the 
 praise of the historian. With us, the deeds of our fathers 
 are as yet unsung, and their very names are fading from our 
 memory. 
 
 This book is historical, but not history. That is to say, 
 it is a truthful account of real events, gathered from a vast 
 mass of authorities. Yet the design has been pictorial rather 
 than geometrical. The author has sought rather to paint a 
 picture than to make a map. In the execution of this pur 
 pose he has been nobly seconded by the PUBLISHERS, who have 
 spared neither trouble nor expense to procure for him rare 
 
n PREFACE. 
 
 and valuable authorities. The large collections of the public 
 libraries of the country were found inadequate, and book 
 sellers from Boston to San Antonio have been called upon 
 for books difficult of access. 
 
 To the vast number of painstaking and truthful writers 
 from whom the author has thus drawn his facts, and perchance 
 even the expression of them, an obligation exists for which 
 no adequate return can be made. The author also takes this 
 opportunity to express his deep obligations to PROFESSOR JOHN 
 CLARK RIDPATH, by whose polished pen and extensive and 
 accurate acquaintance with American history many a defect in 
 this book has been generously obviated. A similar recognition 
 is due to HON. HENRY A. RATTERMANN, whose unequaled library 
 of rare books on American Pioneer History, especially that 
 part relating to the settlement of the Ohio Valley, has fur 
 nished valuable data for this volume, without which much that 
 is interesting would have been lost to these pages. 
 
 The liberality of the PUBLISHERS has extended not merely 
 to the procurement of literary materials, but has also enriched 
 the book with a collection of artistic engravings every way 
 worthy of the topic. Supplemented as his own efforts have 
 been by these powerful and generous aids, it is not without 
 confidence that the work is submitted to the public. 
 
 A. L. M. 
 
 DEER PARK, MARYLAND, Sept., 1883. 
 
I CONSENTS:! 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 
 
 Captain John Smith. His adventures in Turkey. Three single combats and 
 as many victories. Prisoner of a princess. Her suspicious brother. Escape. The 
 Jamestown Colony. Smith, sticking in a quagmire, is captured by Indians. Poca- 
 hontas, the king's daughter. She saves Smith's life and makes a pet of him. 
 Follies of the colony. Coronation of Powhatan. Smith's fight with the big 
 Indian. Starvation. A meal of powdered wife. Betrayal and capture of Poca- 
 hontas. Rolfe in love. The marriage and death of the Indian princess. Smith's 
 hobbies. He dies neglected and in want, Pages 17-69 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 
 
 The greatest French explorer. His saint-like predecessor, Marquette. A grave 
 in a wilderness. La Salle's ambition. Life in the fort. Building The Griffin. Up 
 the lakes. Loss of The Griffin. La Salle journeys on foot from the Illinois to 
 Montreal. Bankruptcy and ruin. Tonty's six gifts, and their significance. The 
 second attempt. Down the Mississippi. The fort on " Starved Rock." The simple 
 ton of Versailles. French re-enforcements. Four vessels set sail from France for 
 the Delta of the Mississippi. Shipwreck of them all. Lost in a Texan wilder 
 ness. Suffering and treachery. La Salle attempts to reach the Illinois. His 
 assassination, Pages 70-118 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FATE OF PHILIP. 
 
 The Pilgrim Fathers. Difficulties with the Indians. A hole in the ice, and a 
 corpse in the hole. King Philip's war. Shot on the way from church. A brave 
 servant-girl. Siege of a cabin. Burning of the towns. The fight at Hadley. 
 Appearance of the Angel of the Lord. The great swamp fight. Firing of the 
 Indian fort. Massacre of the savages. King Philip and Captain Church. Clos 
 ing struggle of the two great antagonists. King Philip killed. The pleasures 
 
 of peace, Pages 121-145 
 
 3 
 
4 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 4 
 
 THE LION AND THE LILIES. 
 
 The old French war. Chopping a path through the forest for the British 
 army. A lonely defile. Lurking foes. Ambuscade and massacre. The rout of 
 Braddock. Ferocity of the savages. War horrors. Panic of the pioneers. Assas 
 sination of the missionaries. Twelve reapers killed in a field. The odor of burnt 
 flesh. One Indian takes nineteen scalps in a single day. The Wild Hunter of 
 the Juniata. The fall of Quebec. The British Lion supplants the Lilies of 
 France, ' Pages 146-173 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ROGERS' s RANGERS. 
 
 Captain Rogers. His fierce scouts. Their exploits on Lake George. English 
 scalps worth sixty francs. The Rangers on skates give chase to nine sleds on the 
 ice. A fearful race. The triumph of men over brutes. Fort William Henry. A 
 debauch on Saint Patrick's Eve. Saved by the Rangers. Burning of the fort. 
 An awful battle. Two-thirds of the Rangers killed. Rogers's leap. Lost in a wil 
 derness of snow. An insane guide. The St. Francis expedition. A two hundred 
 mile march. An Indian wedding feast. Destruction of the village, . Pages 174-198 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 
 
 Major Robert Stobo. Held as a hostage. In prison as a spy. Escape. Recap 
 ture. Dungeon and chains. Another flight. Down the St. Lawrence. Compan 
 ions in misery. Capture of a vessel. Liberty and life. Colonel James Smith. 
 Captured by Indians. Life in a wigwam. A night in a hollow tree. A sweat- 
 house. Escape and capture by the French. The Bard family. An assault on a 
 cabin. Death and captivity. Briers in bare feet. Mrs. Bard scratched and beaten 
 by the squaws. Her release purchased by her husband, ...... Pages 199-231 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 
 
 The mighty chieftain of the Ottawas. The conspiracy. Council of infernal 
 peers. The plot at Detroit. Warned by an Indian girl. Guns hidden under 
 blankets. Foiled. Presqu' Isle. An Indian mine. Fire and sword. Surrender 
 of the haggard garrison. Michillimackinac. The game of ball. Success of the 
 stratagem. Butchery of the garrison. The trader Henry's adventures. Hidden in 
 a garret. Discovered. A friend in need. Carried away. The siege of Detroit. 
 A vast fire-ship. A midnight sally. Attacked in a ravine. Bloody defeat. The 
 fight around Campan's house. Retreat of the survivors. Boquet's expedition. 
 The circular fight. Wreck of the Lake Erie expedition. The Paxton boys. A 
 panic in Philadelphia Peace. Pontiac's death, Pages 232-298 
 
CONTENTS. 5 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 
 
 An American castle. A symmetrical maiden. Sir William Johnson. The 
 Five Nations. A terrible wrestling match. Conquests of the Iroquois. The Rev 
 olution. Brant and the English landlord. A gay rider in the dust. Old Fort 
 Schuyler. A faithful dog. The siege. Battle in the swamp. Brant's cruelties. 
 Massacre of three hundred whites. Invasion of the Indian country. An ear of 
 corn twenty-two inches long. Burning of Ellis's mills. Ah amour of a Dutch 
 trader. Brant in old age, Pages 299-360 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ESCAPE OF TWO BOYS FROM CHAMBLEE. 
 
 Jacob Sammons. Going for beer. The flight from prison. A pleasant woman 
 and a jealous husband. Bitten by a rattlesnake. Frederick Sammons. Attacked 
 by pleurisy. Fourteen days in the rain. Recaptured. Fetters which wear the 
 flesh to the bone. The island prison. In the St. Lawrence, .... Pages 361-368 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 
 
 1777 on the frontiers. An attack at milking-time. Cornstalk's faithfulness to 
 the whites rewarded with assassination. The siege of Wheeling. A decoy. Eleven 
 lives lost. An assault. The bravery of the women. A girlish heroine. The Fore 
 man massacre. An old scout. A find in a forest. Death, Pages 369-387 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 
 
 Transformation. The escape of McConnel. Capture. Sleeping in bonds. 
 The knife. Killing his captors. A race for life. A fight in a fog. Old Morgan's 
 strength. Biting off a finger. An American Meg Merrilles. The black horse. 
 Through the wilderness. The great fight of Poe and Big Foot. Five Kentucky 
 boys and their pluck. Drawing the claret. The boys kill their keepers and 
 ^escape. A strange story. The first Chickamauga. The attack on Widow Scraggs's 
 cabin. "Keep the door shut!" Driven out by the flames. Mrs. Merrill's brav 
 ery. The sufferings of Massy Harbison. One hundred and fifty thorns in her feet 
 and legs. The blood avenger. The wizard's punishment, Pages 388-442 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 
 
 | 
 
 The Wetzel family. A tomahawk in a brain. A gleam of romance. Turkeys 
 which turned out to be Indians. Lewis Wetzel. Lying in wait. The tragedy. 
 Cornered in a shanty. In prison. " I have lived like a man, let me die like one." 
 Liberty. Love. Two years in a Spanish dungeon, Pages 443-463 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 THE COURAGE OF KENTON. 
 
 Simon Kenton. The tortures of love. Flight to the wilderness. Stealing 
 horses from the Indians. Unable to ford the Ohio. Captured and whipped. 
 Eight times exposed to the gauntlet. Three times tied to the stake. The burning- 
 glass story. Old age and disappointment, Pages 464-479 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BRADY THE BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 Father and son. A rum experience. Talking by the roadside. Three rifle 
 shots. Scalped. Sam Brady. A dull Dutchman. Touching elbows. Brady's 
 Leap, Pages 480-489 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 Westward, ho ! A ruined cabin. Devoured by wolves. A flask of whisky. 
 Thirsty squaws. Boone's family. Capture of the girls. The rescuing party. An 
 uplifted tomahawk. Haggard with hunger. Siege of Boonesborough. Tracked by 
 a blood-hound. Boone swallows a butcher-knife. Frightened women. Bringing in 
 the water. The terrible battle of Blue Licks. Later years, Pages 490-51& 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 
 
 The missionaries. Picturesque Bethlehem. A noted inn. Venison, partridges^ 
 and poultry. Wine for the wicked. The Moravian Indians. No rest for the 
 weary. Gnadenhutten. Driven from home. Hunger and hardship. Savage 
 Christians. The awful massacre. The bloody mallet. Ninety crushed skulls. 
 Defeat, Pages 517-541 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. 
 
 The renegade. Frightening the Moravians. The beautiful Katy Malot^-The 
 attack on Dunlap's Station. Relief party from Cincinnati. Blind, drunken, and 
 wretched, Pages 542-55a 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 
 
 The Sandusky expedition. The army on the march. A bad omen. A deserted 
 village. Indian spies. The enemy in sight. The first day's battle. A hat for a 
 
CONTENTS. 1 
 
 water-bucket. The second day. The attack at nightfall. Rout of the whites in 
 the grove. The fatal cranberry marsh. The retreat. Shot on the river bank. 
 The poisoned kettle. A Russian noble. Slover and Paull. Painted black. The 
 gauntlet. Tossed to the dogs. Sentenced to be burnt alive. Interruption by a 
 thunder-storm. Miraculous escape. Naked and bleeding. Seventy-five miles in 
 eleven hours. Dr. Knight. The foolish Tutelu. His lies. William Crawford. 
 Stake and flames. "For God's sake, shoot me through the heart!" The spirit 
 released, Pages 554-592 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 
 
 The massacre of Fort Louden. A hollow tree for a home. Half of a knife. 
 The emigrants. Small-pox and Indians. Rocks in the channel. A child born 
 during a battle. Colonel Brown's family. Treachery of the Indians. A head cut 
 half off. Blood! Blood! Blood! Crushing the Indian power. A squaw's escape 
 by swimming, Pages 593-612 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF SPENCER. 
 
 The 4th of July. Captured. Encounter with the wild-cat. Fight with an 
 Indian boy. Liberation, Pages 613-617 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 
 
 The Emperor Alexander. Red Eagle as a boy. A rich man's home. The 
 idol of the people. Tecumseh. A false prophet. Red Eagle's sweetheart. Love 
 and War. The massacre of Fort Mims. Card playing and drinking among the 
 garrison. The growing sand-heap. The attack. The hopeless defense. "To the 
 bastion!" Red Eagle's nobility. Searching the heaps of corpses. The dog 
 charge. Jackson's campaigns. Dale's famous canoe fight. Mutinies. The battle 
 of the Horseshoe. Surrender of Red Eagle, Pages 618-648 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 
 
 The change of name. Mythical ancestry. The good elder brother. White 
 scoundrels. Red villains. The great conspiracy. The rogue of a prophet. His 
 miracles. The sun darkened. Tecumseh's love for his sister. His ambition. The 
 night before the battle. Tippecanoe. Harrison's victory. Tecumseh's rage. 
 Battle of the Thames. Who killed Tecumseh? Pages 649-683 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 
 
 The Seminole's curse. Blood-money. Exile or war. Massacred among the 
 Palmetto trees. Reign of terror on the plantations. The " House of Blood." 
 Scalped in a parlor. The tragedy in the flower garden. Thirty skeletons in a 
 row . Fever, flood, and famine. The conspirators in the chief's wigwam. Knives 
 glistening in the starlight. The flight. Osceola betrayed. "I feel choked; you 
 must talk." The caged eagle. The squeeze through the embrasure. A fifty-foot 
 leap. Osceola's dungeon. Despair. Death. Bloodhounds used in the war. Killed 
 in a cupalo. Horrors of the Florida war. Coacoochee's capture. The departure 
 into perpetual exile, Pages 684-723 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BLACK HAWK'S HUMILIATION. 
 
 First chapter of an Indian Genesis. Battles of the gods. Tricked into a treaty. 
 Willing to die for his brother." Move." Who is Black Hawk ? Stealing roast- 
 ing-ears from one's own fields. A dog banquet. A squaw swims the Mississippi, 
 carrying her child in her teeth. " Paint me as I am." The princely Keokuk 
 Gall and wormwood, Pages 724-739 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 
 
 The Carson family. An old mare for supper. Monsieur Le Beaver. A tail 
 for a shovel. Political and domestic life of the smart animal. The great Kit. The 
 trappers. Winter life in a trappers' tent. The ace of trumps. A fight in the 
 snow. Two men in a fort. The dash for life. Twelve hundred dollar's worth of 
 horses stolen. Carson's pursuit. Shot through the heart. Terrible fight with 
 grizzly bears. The summer rendezvous. The duel with the bully. The "sur 
 round." Othello's occupation gone. The angry trader. The Kansas border war. 
 The deserted home. Fremont and Kit. Through the Mexican lines. Bleeding 
 feet. The runner. General Carson. Last sickness. " Doctor, compadre, 
 adios!". Pages 740-793 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 
 
 'The Sioux. Blanket Indians vs. Pantaloon Indians. The riot at Yellow 
 Medicine. Little Crow's frightful conspiracy. No suspicions aroused. August 17, 
 1862. The massacre begins. A headless corpse. Firing of the government build 
 ings. Panic of the whites. Slaughter everywhere. Sufferings of the flying refu 
 gees. Depopulation of the country. A charnal house." For God's sake, get your 
 family, and fly !" No mercy for women or children. Boys brained while playing 
 
* 
 
 CONTENTS. 9 
 
 marbles. Women butchered while making bread. The house of children. A night 
 of agony. Flight of the little sufferers. Six weeks in the woods. Snakes and in 
 sanity. The battle at New Ulm. The scene at St. Peter. The flying multitude. 
 Arrival of troops. Execution of the conspirators. Two thousand persons massa 
 cred and forty thousand rendered homeless, Pages 794-835 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 
 
 The two problems. The pierced noses. A wild song. The council at Lap- 
 wai. The killing begun." Hurry up ; hurry !" A knife in a neck. The soldiers. 
 Over the mountains. White Bird Canon. The slaughter of the whites. A de 
 serted inn. The pursuit of Joseph. "Indians! God!" Across the ranges. 
 The hog-back. The battle. Joseph escapes once more. In the Yellowstone 
 region. Caught at last ! Pages 836-860 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 
 
 NELSON LEE, THE TEXAN RANGER. A dollar a day to be shot at. Buckskin vs. 
 Broadcloth. The Ranger's Horse. A "greeny's" first taste. Seven hundred Co- 
 manches. Tomahawks rising and falling. A bullet in a bridle arm. Bitten by a 
 rattlesnake. The noble Black Prince. The cunning ranchero. His successful strat 
 agem. On to the Rio Grande. The surrender of the Rangers to Mexicans. Lee 
 escapes through a garden. In the dark river. Steep and slippery banks. Lee forces 
 two Mexicans to guide him. The purchase of the watch. The night attack. Won 
 ders of the watch. A god or a devil which? The awful torture. An Indian 
 sweetheart. In the bushes. Recaptured. Lamed for life. The Sleek Otter. 
 Lee kills Rolling Thunder, and escapes, Pages 861-881 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. CONTINUED. 
 
 BIG FOOT WALLACE. The greatest living scout. Smeared with blood. " If I 
 was your mammy, young man." Fat pecans. The camp. Big Foot takes a stroll. 
 Indians. The race for life up the canon. Wallace kills his pursuer. Lost. A snug 
 cave. The cur " Comanche." The sprained ankle. Weary weeks in the wilder 
 ness. An old squaw with a face as wrinkled as a walnut. Captured, condemned, 
 and reprieved. Black Wolfs legend. The spectral "Halloo-o-o!" An Indian Rip 
 Van Winkle. The ghost. Attacked by wolves. All night in danger. The fight 
 with the Indian. "Mr. Author." The adventures of a greenhorn. The rattlesnake 
 joke. A gulp of pepper-sauce. Big Foot as he is. Bowie's fight. The treasure 
 hunters. The fatal battle, Pages 882-915 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. CONTINUED. 
 
 DAVID CROCKETT. The wretched home. Dodging a drunken father. A child 
 alone in a wilderness. Twice married. Walks fifty miles in one day. The flames 
 of fever. Frontier justice. The candidate. In the Legislature. Moves west. 
 The bear hunt in the storm. The coat with two pockets. " Half horse, half alli 
 gator." Elected to Congress, when he could neither read nor write. The dinner 
 with the President. Three terms. Then defeat. To Texas. The siege of the 
 Alamo. Crockett bravely meets death. THE FIGHTING PARSON. A young team 
 ster. A successful preacher. In the confederate army. Attacked in the canon. 
 Peaceful days, Pages 916-936 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 
 
 Treaties with the Indians. Connecticut and Virginia cede their claims. North 
 western Territory organized. Marietta settled. Territorial government inaugu 
 rated. Exploit of Louisa St. Clair. Cincinnati founded. Settlements in Symme's 
 purohase. Cincinnati takes precedence. Why. Thrilling adventure of two spies. 
 Harmar's and St. Glair's defeats. Wayne's legion. Captain Wells, Robert and 
 William McClellan, and other scouts. Their movements. Wayne's victory. Treaty 
 at Greenville. Sad fate of Wells. The McClellans. Counties organized. Primi 
 tive courts. Ohio admitted as a State, Pages 937-979 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 Civilized savages. The Plains Indians. The sign language. Red babies. 
 Girls and boys. Candidates for warriorship. Indian love-making. Mrs. Squaw 
 frequently "goes off with a handsomer man." The custom of "roping." Life in 
 the teepe. Indian cookery. Gormandizing. Fat puppy. " Par fleche." Dressing 
 buffalo skins. The slaughter of the buffalo. Costume. A green feather and a 
 pair of hoop-skirts. The unhappy Digger. The winter camp. Games and gam 
 bling. Substitute for whisky. Racing. Victory of "the sheep." Songs and 
 dances. The medicine dance. Scalp dance. Indian religion. The priest. Self- 
 tortures. Burial spots. " I hope the good God will give us the white man's road." 
 Ideas of value. A buffalo robe for a lump of sugar. Disease. Signal smokes. 
 The famous medicine fight. Breech-loaders. The frontiersmen. The Indian 
 question. Suggestions. Farewell, Pages 980-1032 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE PIONEER was a rugged seer 
 
 As he crossed the Western river, 
 Where the Copper Man called the INDIAN 
 
 Lay hid with his bow and quiver. 
 
 As for the pioneer, his days are numbered. As for the 
 Indian, there he stands, a specter on the horizon ! 
 
 The conflict has been irrepressible. There could be no com 
 promise ; the races were too unlike. The Red man had no beauty 
 that our spirits could desire him. The verdict of civilization 
 has been, that his room is better than his company. It is an 
 edict issued from the court of Progress that ferocious Titan 
 who strides from East to West -that the Indian shall disappear, 
 shall be remanded to the past, shall evanish. 
 
 In those great movements by which the populations of the 
 world are transformed, History is blind, cruel, remorseless. 
 She is the least sentimental of all the divinities. She neither 
 smiles at human happiness, nor weeps at human sorrow; she 
 merely attends to her syllogism. When she finds a tribe of 
 nomads living in a valley adapted to the cultivation of corn, she 
 sends the news to some corn-raising race, and leaves the rest to 
 cupidity and the casuists. 
 
 And the casuists make a muck of the whole business. They 
 seek a design. They find it in this that the soil is intended 
 for those who will cultivate it. They fix on this correlation. 
 The hint of nature is, that the clover-field and the orchard must 
 take the place of the brake and the wilderness. It is all very 
 
 11 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 beautiful. The designated race comes in ; and the gray squirrel, 
 after gibing at the business for a season, goes over the horizon 
 followed by a bullet. 
 
 But how about the other side of the question? It is well 
 for the supplanters but the supplanted? The red deer is 
 designed for the cane-brake, and the cane-brake for him. Both 
 are designed for the hunter. Is Nature not as well pleased to 
 be tracked by a buck of ten spikes, as to be wounded in the 
 breast with a hoe ? 
 
 In this world there is one law: the weakest goes to the watt. 
 Men may as well expect a weight on the shorter arm of a lever 
 to lift a greater weight on the longer, as to suppose a reversal 
 of this law. There is such a thing as a science of Historical 
 Physics, which it is time for thinkers to consider. The funda 
 mental maxim in the dynamics of progress is, that the greater 
 force overcomes the less. They who will, may complain of the 
 result and try to explain it. 
 
 The movement of civilization westward, from Babylon to 
 Rome, from Rome to London, from London to San Francisco, 
 has furnished a succession of eras in which the stronger, more 
 highly developed races, have flung themselves in heavy masses 
 upon the aboriginal populations. The latter have yielded, have 
 perished, are perishing. In Greece, the Hellenes came upon the 
 Pelasgians, and the latter were either exterminated or absorbed. 
 Again, in Southern Italy, the (Enotrians were overwhelmed by 
 the aggressive colonists of Magna Grsecia. The Gaulish and 
 British Celts sank into the earth under the tremendous pressure 
 of the Roman and the Saxon. The American aborigines, forced 
 back from the seaboard through the passes of the Alleghanies, 
 are swept across the great valley of the Mississippi, and thrown 
 up like pebbles on the plains of the West. 
 
 In the great march which has thus substituted the wheat- 
 field for the cane-brake, and made the White man the extermi 
 nator of the Red barbarian, there is this that is peculiar : in 
 America the work has been done by a class of men unknown 
 
INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 in Europe THE PIONEERS. Europe was peopled by large bodies 
 of men moving from one country to another. In many regions 
 the antiquarian finds the Age of Stone suddenly cut off by the 
 Age of Bronze, without any intervening Age of Copper. This 
 means that a bronze-bearing soldiery overwhelmed the people 
 of the Stone Age before the latter had developed into a capa 
 bility of working the metals. The Hellenes came from the east 
 as migrating tribes. The original peoples of the peninsula were 
 extinguished by the invaders. The Gaulish nations were trod 
 den under foot by Caesar's armies. The followers of Hengist 
 and Horsa, before w r hom the Celts of Britain perished, were an 
 innumerable horde. Everywhere, except in our own country, 
 the movement has been en masse. But in America the work 
 has been accomplished by a different process. Here we have 
 had the gradual approach of civilization, and the gradual reces 
 sion of barbarism. Population has been flung westward in a 
 spray, which has fallen far out beyond the actual line of the 
 column. Hence the pioneers. 
 
 It is surprising that no State of the great sisterhood, west 
 of the influence of the Atlantic tides, has been colonized. Every 
 commonwealth has been peopled by the scattered scouts of prog 
 ress the pioneers. They have come by twos and threes. The 
 individual, unable longer to endure the hardships of civilization, 
 has moved out to find the comforts and conveniences of the wil 
 derness. At the first he consisted of himself, his dog, and his 
 gun. A little later he consisted of himself, several dogs, one 
 wife, and many children. Afterwards he consisted of himself, 
 with the concomitants last mentioned, and a neighbor of pre 
 cisely the same definitions. 
 
 We have thus had in America a race of men, sui generis 
 the pioneers the hardiest breed of adventurers that ever fore 
 ran the columns of civilization. They belonged, like other 
 heroes, to the Epoch of the Dawn. The Old World knew them 
 not. They are our own or were ; for the pioneer type is in 
 process of extinction. Like the red tribes, pressed back by 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 their energies, the rugged adventurers who made ourselves pos 
 sible, are seen only in the glow of sun-down. The line of pio 
 neer life has swept westward from the Connecticut to the Hud 
 son; from the Delaware to the Ohio; from the Ohio to the 
 Wabash, the Wisconsin, and the Illinois ; from the Father of 
 Waters to the Rockies and the Plains. In a few more years 
 there will be no place on the continent, or any continent, that 
 can properly be called THE WEST. The pioneer has always lived 
 in the West. He will disappear with his habitat, and never be 
 seen more. 
 
 The pioneers were a people of heroic virtues and no liter 
 ature. The situation forbade it. The actual life of the men 
 who made civilization possible in the larger part of the United 
 States was remanded at their death to tradition. The pioneer 
 bard starved. The pioneer annalist left his' note-book to his 
 son, who lost it while moving further west. The next genera 
 tion repeated the story of frontier life as it had been received 
 from the fathers. A few wrote. From Canada to the lagoons 
 of Louisiana a traditional lore gre.w up and was perpetuated. 
 Then came books, most of them written with little skill and no 
 dramatic quality, often garrulous, sometimes dull. In them, 
 however, were portrayed the incidents and accidents of that 
 daring life which was soon to sink behind the horizon. 
 
 A few of these frontier books were written by the actors ; 
 others, by those who had not participated in the scenes described ; 
 most, by persons of little scholarship or wit. Until the present 
 time few works on pioneer life and adventure have been pro 
 duced which have exhibited artistic merit and literary ability. 
 The flash of life through the cumbrous drama has been obscured 
 by dull conception, coarse diction, ungainly style, and unnatural 
 arrangement. It is important at the present epoch, when the 
 sun of our heroes' fame is setting, but has not set, that a true 
 and vivid picture should be preserved of the life which they 
 led, and the deeds which they performed. 
 
 As it respects this preservation for posterity of the annals 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 of our Pioneer Age the story of our great adventurers and 
 heroes -there is thus presented an alternative between the now 
 and the never. What is not presently accomplished in the way 
 of an authentic record of the daring exploits of the fathers will 
 never be accomplished at all. It is a question of immediate 
 photography. The pioneer may still be sketched ere the sun 
 light fades into darkness; but the evening cometh, when no 
 instrument, however delicate its lenses, can supply the want 
 of a living subject for the picture. In another generation the 
 sketch of the American adventurer will be but the reproduction 
 of a wood-cut, instead of a photograph from nature. Whoever 
 by genius and industry contributes to fix in our literature an 
 adequate conception of the lives and deeds of our heroes, will 
 make himself a favorite of the present and a friend of the 
 coming generation. 
 
 Such a work requires the skill of a dramatist. It is not 
 enough that the story of the men, "who by their valor and war- 
 craft beat back the savages from the borders of civilization, and 
 gave the American forests to the plow and the sickle," should 
 be told even passably well ; it must be told with the fervqr and 
 living power of the drama. Shakespeare is now recognized as 
 the prince of historians. If we would study the story of the 
 struggles of York and Lancaster, we shall do better in the three 
 Henrys and the two Richards than in the flat and lifeless pages 
 of Hall and Hollinshed. It has remained for our times to dis 
 cover that the historical imagination is better than the histori 
 cal microscope. The former discovers men; the latter, insects. 
 The former composes the Drama of Life ; the latter, the Farce 
 of Particulars. 
 
 The present work is a series of dramas in prose. It gathers 
 and relates the exploits of our national heroes. The characters 
 live and act. The material is gathered from the wild, but 
 not extravagant, annals of frontier life. Every scene in this 
 book is a true photograph from Man and Nature. The inci 
 dents are real. They are sketched with a dramatic power 
 
16 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which can be paralleled in no other book devoted to the romance 
 and tragedy of American adventure. The author has precisely 
 that kind of fervor which is requisite to make alive the very 
 pages whereon his characters are marshaled for our interest. 
 The book conforms emphatically to the prime conditions of nar 
 rative : it is interesting and true. The interest is maintained 
 by the vigor and enthusiasm of the treatment; the truth has 
 been elicited by a careful culling and comparison of the various 
 traditions, which are thus given a new lease of life. 
 
 The book is a work of art. It is composed with a skill 
 worthy of the highest species of literary eifort. The arrange 
 ment of the several parts, and the adaptation of style to sub 
 ject, show on the part of the author a rare combination of 
 brilliant fancy and artistic taste. Mr. Mason has made the 
 happy discovery that dullness in a book is never commended, 
 except in the columns of a magazine called the Owls Own 
 Quarterly. 
 
 To all classes of people THE ROMANCE AND TKAGEDY OF 
 PIONEER LIFE will recommend itself. The book will be read 
 which is an important consideration in the premises. The Amer 
 ican boy will take fire as he turns these pages. The mild- 
 eyed youth in the bubble-stage of sentiment will wonder that 
 such things could be and not o'ercome the actors. He who has 
 reached the zone of apathy in the Middle Age of Man will 
 find in these thrilling stories of the life that is setting a-west 
 food to revive the adventurous spirit ; and the nonagenarian may 
 chance to be re-warmed to hear again so graphically related 
 the traditions that hovered about the fountains of his youth. 
 
 .A book so well conceived and admirably executed so vivid 
 in its delineations of the lives and deeds of our national heroes, 
 and so picturesque in its contrasts and surprises can hardly 
 fail of a hearty reception by the public. 
 
 JOHN CLARK RIDPATH. 
 ASBURY UNIVERSITY, SEPT. 1883. 
 
THE 
 
 ROMANCE AND TRAGEDY 
 
 OF 
 
 PlONKKR LlFK. 
 
 CHAPTER! 
 
 THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 
 
 \HE age of Elizabeth was an age of wonders. 
 The extension of commerce and the revival of 
 learning, the reformation of religion and the 
 revolution of science, the rise of civil liberty and 
 the invention of negro slavery, the theory of 
 the planets, the proof of the circulation of the 
 blood, and the discoveries in the New World, 
 all combined, at once, by their variety and oppo- 
 giteness, to stimulate and astonish the minds of men. It was 
 a dozen epochs crowded into one. The wildest romances were 
 seriously believed, and the soberest facts laughed at as chimeras. 
 Every thing which was simple and matter of fact was rejected. 
 The more improbable a thing was, the more willingly men re 
 ceived it as truth. At such a time the stories of the traveler 
 found a ready audience. 
 
 Captain John Smith, the historian of Powhatan and Poca- 
 hontas, was a traveler who narrated his own adventures. As a 
 story-teller he was a success. What he tells us of Powhatan 
 and his amiable daughter, is told as an aside to the stirring 
 drama of his own life. Left an orphan, in England, at fifteen, 
 but with competent means, he was apprenticed to a trade, while 
 his guardians appropriated his fortune to themselves. He had 
 
 read books of romance and adventure enough to inspire him to 
 2 17 
 
18 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 run away. But he was no ordinary boy. He rambled around 
 over Europe, meeting with various adventures, taking part in 
 the Continental wars until the peace of 1598. Being nineteen 
 years old and eager for adventure, he enlisted in an army of 
 mercenaries, employed in the war of the Netherlands. After a 
 year or two of hacking at his fellow-men, he fell in with three 
 rogues for companions, who robbed him and escaped. One of 
 these gallants he afterward met, and ran through with his sword. 
 
 Our hero next appears on a ship bound for Italy. Getting 
 into a quarrel with the passengers over religion and politics, 
 they settled the argument by pitching him overboard. But 
 "God got him ashore on an island." He was picked up by a 
 trading vessel, the Britaine, which seemed to have no particu 
 lar destination, but lingered around for freight. The "freight" 
 wanted was a Venetian merchant vessel, which no sooner " spoke " 
 than the Britaine fired a broadside. A lively fight followed, but 
 the merchant surrendered to the pirate. Of the spoils, Smith got 
 "five hundred sequins, and a little box God sent him, worth as 
 much more." His acknowledgments of Providence are touching. 
 
 Having wandered around Italy till he was tired, Smith 
 went to Vienna, and enlisted in the army of the Emperor 
 Rudolph, in the war against the Turks. The Turks had shut 
 up Lord Ebersbraught in the besieged town of Olumpagh. Smith 
 had invented a system of signals, which he had once providen 
 tially explained to Ebersbraught. Letters from A to L were 
 represented by one torch displayed as many times as the letter 
 was removed from A; letters from M to Z were represented by 
 two torches, similarly displayed. Three torches signified the end 
 of a word. Going upon a hill, Smith flashed his torches to the 
 besieged, signaling that they would attack at midnight on the 
 east. The garrison were to make a sortie at the same time. On 
 the side opposite to that of the intended attack, Smith set up 
 some stakes in the plain, and strung them with long lines of 
 powder strings. At the moment of the attack these were touched 
 off, resembling the flash of musketry, and the Turks prepared, 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 19 
 
 in force, to resist the attack from this quarter. Their mistake 
 was discovered too late to prevent the rescue of the garrison. 
 From this time on, Smith bore the rank of captain. 
 
 Still more chivalric are his performances in another siege. 
 During the slow toil of the besieging Christians in making 
 trenches and fortifications, the Turks would frequently yell at 
 thern, and ridicule their work. In order to pass away the time 
 and "delight the ladies," the Turkish bashaw sent a challenge 
 for single combat with any Christian. John Smith, aged twenty- 
 three, accepted it. A theater was built, the armies drawn up, 
 and the bashaw appeared to the sound of music. His capar 
 isoned horse was led by two janizaries, and his lance was borne 
 by a third. On his shoulders were a pair of silver wings, and 
 his costume was ornamented with jeweled plumes. "This gor 
 geous being Smith did not keep long in waiting. Accompanied 
 by a single page, he took position, made a courteous salute, 
 charged at the signal, and, before the bashaw could say ' Jack 
 Robinson,' thrust his lance through the sight of his beaver, 
 face, head, and all, threw him to the ground, and cut off his 
 head." A friend of the bashaw's then challenged Smith. The 
 fight was with pistols, the Englishman winning another head. 
 Smith then became challenger. The combat was long and doubt 
 ful. The weapons were battle-axes. Once Smith dropped his, 
 and the Turks set up a great cheer, but "by his judgment and 
 dexterity in such a business, by God's assistance, having drawn 
 his fanchion, he pierced the Turk so under the culets, thorow 
 backe and body." 
 
 Smith was eventually taken prisoner, but only to meet with 
 a new adventure. He was sent to be the slave of the beautiful 
 Charatza Tragabigzanda at Constantinople. He was by no means 
 ill-favored, and the tender passion soon inflamed the heart of the 
 young mistress. But controlling herself, she sent him away to 
 her brother Tymor, "to learn the language, till time made her 
 mistress of herself." Smith thought he would, ere long, become 
 her husband, but in an hour after his arrival the brother stripped 
 
20 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 him naked, forged a great iron ring about his neck, with a bent 
 stick attached to it, and set him about the vilest tasks. One day 
 Tymor was alone with him in a field. Mad with rage, Smith 
 sprang on him, beat out his brains, dressed himself in the dead 
 man's clothes, and made his escape. After wandering several 
 days in a desert, he found a kind-hearted man, who knocked 
 off the iron, and helped him to a ship homeward bound. 
 
 Such was the man who, in 1605, returned to smoky, pesti 
 lential, and filthy London, a city without sidewalks or lighted 
 streets, its houses, built of wood, vilely constructed and venti 
 lated, one-half of its people religious bigots, the other half 
 abandoned debauchees. The town was feverish with excitement 
 over the stories of the great Virginia, where gold was as com 
 mon as iron, where copper was dipped out of the rivers by the 
 bowl full, where the inhabitants decked out in pearls as large 
 as peas, supplied all visitors with the rarest fish and game and 
 the finest fruits, " four times bigger than those in England." So, 
 in 1606, when a charter was granted for a colony in Virginia, 
 notwithstanding several previous ones had utterly failed, and 
 left no monument but the story of their fate, Smith joined the 
 expedition. Edward Wingfield was president. It is not won 
 derful that this crowd of seventy-one persons soon fell to quar 
 reling. They were from the slums of London thieves, plugs, 
 cut-throats, idlers in search, not of glory, but of a country 
 where money could be had without labor, men, as Smith said, 
 " more fit to mar a state than to make one." Their settlement 
 in Virginia was called Jamestown. Here they had a rough time. 
 
 The engraving on the opposite page gives a faithful view 
 of the first day's work in the wilderness. It was a struggle 
 for existence rather than for wealth. Discipline there was 
 none. The president was accused of keeping the choicest stores 
 for himself. The men would not work, supplies ran low, dis 
 ease and famine alike attacked the unhappy adventurers. One 
 night they 'had an ugly row, in which all took part. Their 
 preacher, Mr. Hunt, a good man, pacified them, and the next 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 23 
 
 day the crowd partook of the holy communion. All these 
 colonial undertakings, no matter how abandoned the men, wore 
 a cloak of religion. The ostensible aim, as expressed in the 
 Jamestown charter was, " by the grace of Almighty God, to 
 propagate the Christian religion to such people as yet live in 
 darkness and miserable ignorance of all true knowledge, and 
 worship of God." 
 
 But the quarrel was ever breaking out anew. Conspiracies 
 to kill Smith, depose Wingfield, and escape to England in the 
 pinnace were as thick as hops. Sometimes one faction had 
 the upper hand, sometimes the other. The intelligent directors, 
 safe at home, had instructed the colonists to search for a pas 
 sage to the North Sea, and in exploring rivers, when they 
 reached a fork to take the branch leading to the north-west as 
 most likely to come out right. In obedience to this, Captain 
 Newport, Smith, and others shortly ascended the river which 
 the savages called POWHATAN. The country, too, bore the name, 
 and the various tribes of Indians, whatever else they called 
 themselves, were continually mentioning the same mysterious 
 word. On their journey the explorers were hospitably treated, 
 receiving presents of fruit, game, and vegetables, as well as a 
 roast deer and baked cakes. They reached a wigwam village, 
 governed by a king, the name of town and ruler both being 
 Powhatan. This chief is supposed to have been a son of the 
 great Powhatan. The natives made elaborate feasts, and in 
 return their chief was entertained on the ship, where the En 
 glish pork and peas and the liquors quite enraptured him. 
 When the latter grew suspicious of a cross erected as a sign of 
 English dominion, Newport told him the arms represented Pow 
 hatan and himself, and the middle their united league. 
 
 On the morning after the feast on shipboard, the noble red 
 man found himself too sick to get up ; no doubt, the result 
 of the hot drinks he had taken to so kindly. After a multi 
 tude of feastings from other chiefs, the explorers returned to find 
 that the colony had suffered a severe attack from savages. The 
 
24 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 president was cursed to his face for his failure to erect fortifica 
 tions. He was accused " of ingrissing to his private use oat- 
 meale, sacke, oyle, aqua vitse, beef, and egges ;" while the others 
 had only " a half pint of wheat, and as much barley boyled 
 with water for a man a day, and this being fryed some twenty- 
 six weeks in the ship's hold, contained as many wormes as 
 graines." As a result of the quarrels, Wingfield was deposed 
 and imprisoned. Wingfield denies embezzling the delicacies. 
 " I never had but one squirrel roasted !" 
 
 The colonists hung one of the council, and Smith himself 
 came near it. The pious frauds had a church, however, with 
 " Common Prayer morning and evening, every day two sermons, 
 with an Homily on Sundaies." Smith seems to have been 
 almost alone in his efforts to build up the colony. Every one 
 else was crazy about gold. He made several short voyages, 
 securing small amounts of corn from the Indians, which, with 
 the swans, geese, and ducks on the rivers, wild " pumpkins and 
 persimmons," made life quite tolerable, so that for a while the 
 " tuftaffety " gentlemen of the colony quit wanting to return to 
 England. Necessity, however, again drove Smith to make a 
 more extended voyage up the Chickahominy. 
 
 They proceeded up the river as far as possible with the 
 pinnace. Then Smith took two of the crew, Robinson and 
 Emry, ashore with him, where two Indians were hired to take 
 them further in a canoe. The crowd in this canoe paddled some 
 twenty miles. For convenience in getting supper, they pulled 
 ashore. Leaving one Indian and the two Englishmen to " boyle 
 the pott," Smith took the other Indian with him to look around 
 in the neighborhood for game. He had gone some distance when 
 cries and yells were heard from the canoe, and then all grew 
 still. Smith rightly conjectured that the men had been attacked 
 and killed. Seizing his guide, he bound him fast to his own 
 arm with a garter, and made ready to fight. No Indians were 
 yet in sight, but an arrow, winged by a hidden hand, struck 
 Smith's thigh. Shortly a score of savages jumped from their 
 
THE LEGEND OF PO WHAT AN. 25 
 
 cover. Holding his terrified guide before him as a shield, Smith 
 began a retreat to the boat. His pistol he fired as often as he 
 could, and at every shot the savages fled. When the sound 
 died away they would again appear and discharge their arrows, 
 but the unlucky Indian tied to Smith's arm protected him well. 
 But for an accident, the retreat would have been successful, and 
 the story of Powhatan never have been set afloat in the current 
 of history. While walking backwards, intent on his enemies, 
 Smith fell into a quagmire, both his guide and himself sinking 
 up to their breasts. To escape was out of the question. Almost 
 dead with the cold, Smith threw away his weapons. The Indians 
 then ran to him and pulled him out of the mud, built a fire, 
 rubbed his benumbed limbs, and took him before their king, Ope- 
 chancanough, a brother, as it transpired, of the great Powhatan. 
 
 Smith was a man of resources. He drew out a compass, 
 which greatly interested the savage, and then proceeded to 
 " demonstrate by that globe-like Jewell, the roundness of the 
 Earth and Skies the Spheare of the Sunne, Moone, and Starres, 
 and how the Sunne did chase the night round about the world 
 continually ; the greatness of the Land and See, the diversitie 
 of Nations, varietie of Complexions, and how we are to them 
 Antipodes." These wonderful qualities of a compass have, 
 probably, never been made use of by any but our own Smith. 
 
 The secret of his demonstration is lost to science. At any 
 rate, it evidently impressed the savage, as it must the reader, 
 with the ingenious intellect of the lecturer. The king saw his 
 captive was an extraordinary man. Smith was placed under 
 guard, and the Indians formed in procession to conduct him to 
 Orapaka, a " Town and Seat much frequented by Powhatan 
 and the Imperial Family." The king walked first, followed by 
 poor Smith, held by three lusty savages. On either side walked 
 a file of six more, with their arrows notched. The remainder 
 followed in single file. The village celebrated the strange cap 
 ture with games, dances, and feastings. Smith was placed in a 
 long house, with forty savages for a guard. For supper he had 
 
26 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a quarter of venison and ten pounds of bread. Each morning 
 three women brought him three great platters of fine bread and 
 more venison than a dozen men could devour. In spite of the 
 plenty, Smith's appetite was poor, as he thought they fed him 
 highly in order to eat him. His captors were preparing to 
 attack Jamestown, and Smith exerted himself to explain the 
 terrible cannon, the mines with which the fort was, he said, 
 surrounded, and the certain failure which would result from an 
 attack. To prove it, and to procure some presents for the 
 Indians, he asked the king to send messengers to the fort. This 
 request was granted. Three naked savages set out through the 
 snow and ice of winter on the trip. Smith took care to send a 
 letter, scratched on some bark, telling the colonists that he was 
 safe, and how to both treat the messengers well, yet to frighten 
 them with the cannon, and to send him certain trinkets. When 
 the messengers returned, great was the astonishment of the 
 village that Smith had been able to talk so far to his friends, 
 and that the messengers had brought what he predicted they 
 would bring. 
 
 After many days of delay and ceremony, the Indians decided 
 to take Smith before their emperor, Powhatan, the Indian Caesar, 
 who had conquered the entire region, to whom innumerable 
 chiefs and tribes were subject. Such was the extent of his 
 name that the English, understanding little of the language but 
 hearing the word often repeated, by turns regarded it as we 
 have seen, as the name of a river, of the country, of the people, 
 of a town, and of the chief whom they met in their first 
 voyage. This man had extended his dominions till they were 
 many times the size of his original inheritance. The hereditary 
 chiefs or " kings " of the subject tribes were permitted to rule 
 their own tribes as before the conquest, and their local laws and 
 customs were not interfered with, on condition of their paying 
 annual tribute to Powhatan of " Skins, Beades, Copper, Pearl, 
 Deare, Turkies, wild Beastes, and Corn," a system of govern 
 ment strangely similar to that of the Roman Empire. His subjects 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 27 
 
 regarded him as half man and half God, a rather intimate union 
 of church and state. 
 
 When the dauntless Smith was presented to this important 
 personage, he seemed about sixty years old, his hair was gray, 
 his figure tall and majestic. He was reclining at the end of a 
 long apartment, on a chair or couch of state, covered with great 
 robes of furs, with a coronet of immense, gayly colored plumes 
 on his head. At his head and feet sat two shapely young 
 Indian girls, in scanty attire, his youngest and favorite wives. 
 Behind him were grouped the rest of his wives, adorned with 
 beads and decorated with the most gaudy paints. Around the 
 room were arranged fifty of the tallest warriors in his domin 
 ions. This " palace guard " was increased to two hundred from 
 this time on account of the English. He is said to have lived 
 " in great barbaric state and magnificence." At night a sentinel 
 was posted on each corner of the house,who was required at cer 
 tain intervals to give a signal to the guard in the house. If he 
 slept or omitted the signal he received terrible punishment. 
 Powhatan had a large number of towns or seats in which he, 
 from time to time, made his residence, according to the season 
 or the character of the game which each place afforded. 
 
 On Smith's entrance into the dusky emperor's hall of state, 
 a terrific shout was set up. The Queen of Appomattox (a name 
 now familiar to every American), brought a copper basin of 
 water, while her companion attended with a bunch of feathers 
 on which to dry Smith's hands. The emperor, having assured 
 himself that Smith's hands were clean, proceeded to ask him 
 innumerable questions as to where he was from, where he was 
 going, what brought the whites to his kingdom, what were their 
 intentions, what kind of a country they lived in, and how many 
 warriors they had. No doubt, the slayer of three Turkish 
 bashaws, and the pet of the princess, Tragabigzanda, was equal 
 to his opportunities. It is possible that the old savage regarded 
 him as a liar, for after his questionings were over, Smith says, 
 "a long consultation was held, but the conclusion was, two 
 
28 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 great stones were brought before Powhatan; then as many 
 savages as could, layd hands on him, dragged him to them, and 
 theron laid his head," preparatory to beating out his precious 
 brains with their war-clubs. By lucky accident Smith escaped 
 the doom through the famous intercession of Pocahontas, " the 
 king's dearest daughter, whom no entreaty could prevaile, but 
 gat his head in her arms, and laid her own upon his to save 
 him from death," an incident which has been expanded, moral 
 ized upon, and applauded in turn by a hundred historians. 
 
 No doubt poor Smith received the caresses of the Indian 
 maiden with a sensation rarely the lot of mortals to enjoy, for 
 the stern old emperor looked at the scene for a moment, mut 
 tered a few words in his strange tongue, and, with his own hand 
 lifted the girl and Smith from the ground. Smith was still doubt 
 ful of his fate for a day or two. During this time he busied 
 himself carving wooden toys for Pocahontas, who had saved him 
 by her intercession. These filled the childish hearts of herself 
 and her companions with delight. While making himself pop 
 ular with the young girls, Smith noticed with satisfaction that 
 the chiefs still admired and wondered at the compass as much 
 as ever. In the picture on the opposite page the wily English 
 man is presenting Pocahontas with a wooden doll, which he has 
 just manufactured. 
 
 One day, old Powhatan laid aside his dignity, as most kings 
 do at times, and disguising himself in the most horrible manner, 
 with two hundred others, " as blacke as himselfe," hid behind a 
 curtain in a large house, to which Smith was presently brought. 
 He sat down by the fire, thinking the apartment otherwise unoc 
 cupied, when with unearthly shrieks and a "hellishe noise," the 
 savages jumped from their hiding-place, brandishing weapons, 
 and making horrible contortions as they circled around him. 
 He supposed his end was at hand. The affair was only a joke, 
 though he was well-nigh dead with apprehension. There are 
 still savages, white enough, who enjoy such jokes. Powhatan 
 explained the matter with many grins, furnished him with 
 
CAPTAIN SMITH AMUSES POCAHONTAS WITH TOYS. 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 31 
 
 guides, and sent him back to Jamestown. Smith promised to 
 send his liberator "two gunnes and a gryndestone." This 
 promise he fulfilled by offering his guides two culverins and a 
 mill-stone, which they could not possibly transport. He took 
 care both to frighten by firing the culverins and to pacify them 
 with many presents for Powhatan and his wives. 
 
 Smith's life, however, was scarcely safer among the ruffians 
 at the fort than among the savages. On the day of his return, 
 his enemies, headed by Ratcliffe, the president, arrested him 
 on the charge of murdering his two companions, Robinson and 
 Emry, found him guilty, and sentenced him to be hung the next 
 morning, a sentence of which the fulfillment was only prevented 
 by the arrival of Newport, from England, the same evening. 
 The affectionate Pocahontas and her father did not forget Smith. 
 Two or three days after his return a fire broke out, destroying 
 their buildings and supplies at the fort. Shortly afterward, 
 Pocahontas, a perfectly nude maiden, appeared at the fort with 
 a train of attendants such as herself, bringing presents of corn 
 and game to Smith and his friends. This visit was only the 
 first of a long series, in which Pocahontas came to the fort regu 
 larly, at least twice a week, with abundant gifts. She was only 
 eleven or twelve years old, evidently of a kind and generous 
 nature, but full of the fun which belongs to youth. On the 
 occasions of her visits to the fort, she became well acquainted 
 with the men. Her sportiveness was manifested by " making 
 cart wheeles," falling on her hands, " heeles upwards," and turn 
 ing over and over around the fort. 
 
 During Smith's seven weeks' captivity, which had been a 
 great advantage in gaining the confidence and learning the lan 
 guage of the Indians, he, in order to awe them, greatly bragged 
 of the immense power and skill of Captain Newport. Though 
 he secretly despised the man, Smith, priest-like, set up the 
 bogus image before the worshiping multitude, and called it 
 divine. Powhatan naturally had a great desire to see New 
 port, and he was promised the pleasure. The new-comers on 
 
32 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the ship completely demoralized the prices in trade with the 
 Indians. The sailors were foolishly granted the privilege of 
 trading, and it soon took a pound of copper to buy the quantity 
 of corn for which only an ounce of the metal had previously been 
 required. Only such Indians as had his special license were 
 allowed by Powhatan to visit the fort and trade. One poor 
 redskin slipped in one day without license, and furtively sold a 
 little basket of corn. For this offense the emperor had him 
 killed. Newport sent forward to Powhatan presents, much too 
 rich to be wise, and followed himself with Smith and forty men. 
 
 When they arrived at Werowocomoco, the wary Newport 
 declined going ashore, for fear of treachery, till Smith first 
 examined the situation. Even Smith, before crossing the crazy 
 traps, which bridged a network of creeks, required a large num 
 ber of Indians to precede him, and retained others as hostages, 
 lest the aifairs should be pitfalls. The village wore a holi 
 day look. Fifty great platters of fine bread stood in front of 
 Powhatan's lodge. The emperor received Smith with great 
 state and display, caused him to sit on the right hand of his 
 throne, and renewed the old acquaintance with friendly conver 
 sation, in which Smith's joke about the " gunnes and grynde- 
 stone" drew much loud laughter. Smith presented Powhatan 
 with a suit of red cloth, a white greyhound, and a hat. He 
 was lodged with Powhatan, and served by a young Indian 
 woman, who was appointed to attend him, with an abundance 
 of rich and various food. In the evening there was a feast, 
 with songs, dances, and speeches. Next morning Newport came 
 ashore, and was royally entertained for four days. Powhatan 
 spared no effort to elaborate his hospitality, proclaiming death 
 to any subject who offered any discourtesy to his guests. New 
 port gave him a white boy, Thomas Savage, as a present. 
 
 When they came to trade, Powhatan was much too crafty 
 for Newport. He affected great dignity, said the great Pow 
 hatan could not enter into a dicker. "Let Captain Newport 
 lay down all his commodities. Such as Powhatan wants he will 
 
THE LEGEND OF PO WHAT AN. 33 
 
 take and then make such recompense as is right." Such was 
 his speech. Newport fell into the trap. He received four 
 bushels of corn when he should have had two hundred. Smith 
 seeing this failure, apparently by accident glanced some blue 
 beads, so that their glint caught the eye of the Indian, who at 
 once became eager to see them. Smith denied having them, 
 then protested he could not sell them, that they were made of 
 the same stuff as the sky, and were only to be worn by the 
 greatest kings on earth. All this inflamed the savage's anxi 
 ety to the highest pitch, and he offered twenty, fifty, a hundred, 
 two hundred, three hundred bushels of corn. Smith yielded 
 to this last offer with great show of reluctance, took his corn, 
 "and yet," he says, "parted good friends." 
 
 The presence of Newport's ship at the colony was a constant 
 demoralization. Such of the shoremen as had any thing of 
 value whatever traded it to the sailors for liquor or ship stores, 
 which were wasted in excesses. Smith wanted Newport to 
 leave, but he caught the "gold fever," and remained fourteen 
 weeks, diligently loading his vessel with river sand, in which 
 were shining particles of mica, which he insisted were gold. 
 The idle colonists gave up regular work, in spite of Smith's 
 expostulations, and dreamed of fabulous wealth. The ship 
 remained so long that its stores were exhausted, and instead 
 of the colony receiving supplies from Newport, actually had to 
 divide its meager store to revictual the ship for the return. 
 Newport sailed proudly away with his cargo of dirt, but not 
 without doing a mischief to the colony. Powhatan, with a 
 motive clear as day to Smith, sent Newport twenty turkeys, 
 asking for twenty swords in return, which the goose at once 
 sent him. Soon afterward he sent a like present and message 
 to Smith, but obtained no swords for his trouble, which angered 
 him. Though professing friendship, the Indians began to give 
 trouble with their thieving. Several men from the fort were 
 waylaid in the forest and stripped of their weapons. Thus 
 matters went on till Smith took several of the Indians prisoners, 
 
34 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES, 
 
 and by dint of threats and promises learned from them that the 
 crafty Powhatan, seeing the superiority of English weapons, and 
 designing to massacre the colony, had undertaken to trade for 
 weapons with Newport and Smith, and, failing with the latter, 
 to take them from the colonists whenever caught out alone. 
 Another sign of hostility was the return of the boy Savage, 
 with bag and baggage, to the fort. Learning that some of his 
 people were prisoners, the emperor of Virginia sent the lovely 
 Pocahontas, " who not only for feature, countenance, and pro 
 portion, much exceedeth any of the rest of his people, but for 
 wit and spirit the only nonpareil of his country," to Smith to 
 deny hostile intentions and ask for the release of his men. 
 Any favor asked by Pocahontas was certain to be granted, and 
 after prayers, and a hearty meal, the warriors were given back 
 their bows and arrows, and restored to liberty. 
 
 Smith, who was never idle, one day went on an exploring 
 trip around the Chesapeake Bay, on which he met with many 
 adventures. Once he caught a fish on his sword, which in 
 being taken oif thrust its " poysonne sting of two or three inches 
 long, bearded like a saw," into his wrist. The arm quickly 
 swelled to an enormous size, and the torment was so great that 
 he gave up hope, and his friends prepared a grave under his 
 directions. Luckily "it pleased God, by a precious oyle Dr. 
 Russell applied to it, that his tormenting paine was so assuaged 
 that he ate of that fish to his supper." Once he met the 
 Susquehannock Indians, distinguished by their friendly disposi 
 tion and enormous stature. Their tobacco pipes were three 
 feet long, their voices "sounded from them as they were a 
 great noyse in a vault or cave, as an ecco." The calf of the 
 chief's leg "was three-quarters of a yard about," and his body 
 of similar proportions. 
 
 On September 10, 1608, Smith was made president of the 
 colony. He at once stopped the erection of a pleasure house, 
 which RatclifFe, who had succeeded Wingfield in the presidency, 
 was having built for his own use, and set the men about useful 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 35 
 
 labor: Things had barely begun to run smoothly when the 
 marplot Newport returned with several wild schemes. He 
 brought with him orders for a coronation of Powhatan as 
 emperor, together with elaborate presents for the old Indian. 
 
 A more foolish thing was never perpetrated. The effect 
 of the coronation was to increase Powhatan's notion of his own 
 importance, and make it impossible to maintain friendly relations 
 with him. Smith's hard sense protested against the folly, but 
 finally he insisted on at least trying to get Powhatan to come 
 to Jamestown for the ceremony. With this object he went to 
 Powhatan's residence, but finding him away from home, was 
 compelled to wait a day for his return. In the meantime Poca- 
 hontas had some more of her fun. Smith and his men were 
 sitting around a fire in the open air, when they were alarmed 
 by the most frightful uproar in the surrounding woods. They 
 seized their arms and thought they were betrayed. In a 
 moment Pocahontas came running up to Smith, and told him he 
 might kill her if any hurt was intended, and explained that it 
 was only sport. At the head of her thirty young women, 
 attired as we have intimated was their fashion, she led them in 
 a wonderful " anticke," dancing, singing, crying, leaping, casting 
 themselves in circles around the visitors, and " falling into their 
 infernal passions." An hour was spent in this "mascarade." 
 Then " they solemnly invited Smith to their lodgings, where he 
 was no sooner in the house, but all these nymphs more tor 
 mented him than ever, with crowding, pressing, hanging about 
 him, most tediously crying, "Love you not me? Love you not 
 me?" After this he was seated at the most elaborate banquet 
 of savage dainties which the ingenuity of Pocahontas and her 
 nymphs could devise. The feast at last broke up, and his 
 dusky tormentors escorted him to his lodging with a fire-brand 
 procession. 
 
 In the morning, Smith, his head no doubt a little thick from 
 the frolic, stated his wish to Powhatan, agreeing to assist him 
 in a war against his enemies, the Monacans, if he would come 
 
36 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 to Jamestown. But this proud representative in the American 
 forest of the divine rights of kings, haughtily replied : . " If your 
 king has sent me a present, I also am a king, and this is my 
 land; eight days I will stay to receive them. Your father is 
 to come to me, not I to him, nor yet to your fort; neither will 
 I bite at such a bait; as for the Monacans, I can revenge my 
 own injuries." 
 
 "This was the lofty potentate," says a charming writer, 
 "whom Smith could have tickled out of his senses with a glass 
 bead, and who would infinitely have preferred a big shining 
 copper kettle to the misplaced honor intended to be thrust upon 
 him, but the offer of which puffed him up beyond the reach of 
 negotiation." 
 
 Smith returned with his message. If the mountain would 
 not come to Mahomet, then Mahomet must go to the mountain. 
 Smith describes with rare humor the ridiculous ceremony of 
 the coronation, the last act of which shows that Powhatan him 
 self must have seen the size of the joke. " The presents were 
 brought him, his bason and ewer, bed and furniture set up, his 
 scarlet cloke and apparel with much adoe put on him, being 
 assured they would not hurt him. But a foule trouble there 
 was to make him kneel to receive his crown; he not knowing 
 the majesty, nor wearing of a crown, nor bending of the knee, 
 endured so many persuasions, examples, and instructions as 
 tyred them all. At last, by bearing hard on his shoulders, he, 
 a little stooped, and three having the crown in their hands, put 
 it on his head, when by the warning of a pistoll the boats were 
 prepared with such a volley of shot, that the king started up in 
 a horrible feare, till he saw all was well. Then remembering 
 himself to congratulate their kindness, he gave his old shoes and 
 his mantell to Capt. Newport ! " The mountain labored, and 
 brought forth a mouse. 
 
 This magnificent failure to get two ship loads of corn which 
 Newport had promised, reduced the colonists almost to starva 
 tion. Smith, finding no corn was to be procured peaceably 
 
v 
 
 THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 37 
 
 from the Indians, began a more radical policy. Taking a strong 
 force with him, he again sailed up the Chickahominy, and 
 declaring his purpose to be to avenge his captivity and the 
 murder of his men, he made war. It was not long before the 
 Indians sued for peace, and paid one hundred bushels of corn, 
 a serious inroad on a small harvest, for their crops had failed. 
 
 Things went on poorly enough at the fort. Out of three hun 
 dred axes, hoes and pick-axes, only twenty could be found, the 
 thievish colonists having secretly traded them off to the Indians. 
 The hundred bushels of corn were soon gone. In their 
 extremity Powhatan sent word to Smith to visit him, send him 
 men to build him a house, give him a grindstone, fifty swords, 
 some big guns, a cock and hen, much copper and beads, and he 
 would in.return load Smith's ship with corn. Unwilling to miss 
 an opportunity, however slight, to procure supplies, Smith 
 resolved to humor Powhatan by sending some workmen, among 
 whom were two knavish Dutchmen, to build the house, and to 
 follow with a force strong enough to take old Powhatan's corn 
 by force if it could not be had peaceably. 
 
 It was midwinter. A severe storm detained Smith and his 
 men on the way, and compelled them to celebrate their Christ 
 mas among some friendly Indians. While the winter storm 
 raged without, the men were warmly lodged among the savages, 
 and feasted around the roaring fires on splendid bread, fish, 
 oysters, game, and wild fowl. 
 
 Proceeding on their journey, their landing at Powhatan's 
 residence had to be made by wading breast deep through the 
 half frozen shallows and mire for a half mile. Powhatan sent 
 down provisions for them, but pretended not to have sent for 
 them at all. Smith reproached him with deceit and hostility. 
 Powhatan replied by wordy evasions, and seemed coolly indif 
 ferent about his new house. He demanded guns and swords in 
 exchange for corn, which Smith refused. The old emperor then 
 said he doubted the intentions of the English, for he had heard 
 that they came not so much for trade as to invade and possess 
 
38 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 his country. For what good purpose did Smith and his men 
 carry arms, if they really came on an errand of peace? Let 
 them leave their weapons in their vessel, in order that his 
 people might not be afraid to bring in their corn, and as a proof 
 that their intentions were peaceful. "Let us all be friends 
 together and forever Powhatans." The secret of Powhatan's 
 conduct lay in the fact, not entirely discovered by Smith for 
 some months, that the two Dutchmen, yielding to the seductive 
 influence of Powhatan's abundant table and comfortable quar 
 ters, had betrayed the destitute condition of the colonists to him. 
 
 At an interval in the dispute Smith managed to trade an old 
 copper kettle to the emperor for eighty bushels of corn. Then 
 the debate was renewed with the same vigor. Powhatan, liar 
 that he was, said that he had lived to see the death of three 
 generations of his people, and his experience taught him that 
 peace was better than war. Why then would the English try 
 to take by force what they could quickly have by love? Why 
 would they destroy Powhatan and his people who provided them 
 food? What could be gained by war? Powhatan in his old 
 age could take his people, hide their corn, burn their lodges, fly 
 to the forest, and live there in the cold, subsisting on acorns and 
 roots. But this would not only make him and his people bit 
 terly unhappy; the English themselves must starve if they 
 destroyed the people who furnished them food. Powhatan and 
 Captain Smith would alike end their lives in misery. He con 
 cluded with an earnest appeal to Smith to have his men lay 
 aside their guns and swords. 
 
 But Smith was proof against this eloquence. Believing that 
 Powhatan's purpose was to disarm the English and then mas 
 sacre them, he ordered his men to break the ice and bring the 
 vessel nearer shore. Then more men were to land and an 
 attack was to be made. The intellect of the Indian and the 
 white man were well matched in their insight into character 
 and in craftiness. No diplomacy inferior to that of the Indian 
 emperor could have so long retained the upper hand of Smith. 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 39 
 
 No leader of less courage and resources than John Smith could 
 so long have maintained a starving colony in the hostile domin 
 ions of the great Powhatan. In order to consummate the move 
 ment by which his entire force should become available for 
 action, Smith kept Powhatan engaged in a lengthy conversation. 
 But the Indian outwitted him. Suspecting his motive, Pow 
 hatan, skillfully excused himself for a moment, leaving three of 
 his most entertaining wives to occupy Smith's attention, and 
 passing through the rear of his bark dwelling, escaped to the 
 forest, while the house was silently surrounded by his warriors. 
 
 When Smith discovered his danger, he rushed boldly out, 
 fired at the nearest Indian, and made his way unhurt to the 
 shore. The English, then, with leveled muskets, forced the 
 Indians to load the boat with corn. Night came on; the work 
 was done, but the vessel could not sail till high tide. Smith 
 and his men had to pass the night ashore. Powhatan designed 
 to surprise them by an attack while at their supper. Once 
 more the gentle Pocahontas saved Smith. Slipping into the 
 camp, she took Smith aside, hurriedly told him that her father 
 would shortly send down an abundant supper for the English, 
 but, that while the latter were engaged in the meal, an attack 
 would be made by her father, with all his warriors. Smith 
 offered her handsome presents and rewards, but with tears run 
 ning down her cheeks, she refused them all, saying, that if she 
 were seen to have them, it would cost her her life. Once more 
 urging Smith to depart, the affectionate girl turned from him 
 and fled into the forest, the gloom of which was deepened by 
 the thickening shadows of a winter twilight. Presently ten 
 huge savages came, bearing a hot supper for the English, and 
 urged them to eat. But Smith compelled the cooks first to 
 taste their own broth as an assurance that it was not poisoned, 
 
 The night was one of anxiety. Large numbers of savages 
 could be seen lurking around. No one was permitted to sleep, 
 but all were required to be prepared for a fight at any moment. 
 Their vigilance saved them, and in the morning the homeward 
 
40 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 trip was commenced. It was a dark prospect for the colonists. 
 They had escaped this time, but could they always do as well? 
 Where were their supplies to come from, if not from the Indians ? 
 Meanwhile, the Dutch traitors made a trip overland to the fort, 
 represented that Smith had sent them, and procured guns, 
 ammunition, fifty swords, tools, and clothing. They also induced 
 six " expert thieves " to desert with them to Powhatan. 
 
 On the way back Smith had a thrilling adventure with Ope- 
 chancanough, the savage to whom Smith had delivered his lec 
 ture on astronomy. In the hope of securing corn, Smith took 
 fifteen men and went up to the chief's house, where he found 
 himself betrayed and surrounded by seven hundred armed sav 
 ages. Smith spoke to his men, told them to follow his example 
 and die fighting. He l^hen openly accused Opechancanough of 
 an intent to murder him, and challenged him to single combat, 
 the Indian to choose the weapons, and the victor to cut off the 
 other's head and be lord over the countrymen of the vanquished. 
 This the Indian refused, denied his hostile intention, and laid a 
 handsome present just outside the door. Had Smith gone out 
 side, he would have fallen, pierced by a hundred arrows. Seiz 
 ing an opportunity, he rushed up to the king, grabbed him by 
 the hair, placed a loaded pistol at his head, and marched him 
 around, half dead with fright, before all his warriors. Looking 
 on Smith as a god, the people threw down their arms. It was 
 not long till they were trading in good style. Here Smith was 
 overtaken by a messenger from the fort, who had gone to Pow- 
 hatan's residence, seen great preparations for war, and only 
 escaped alive through being concealed by Pocahontas in her 
 lodge, and, having been furnished by her with provisions for 
 his journey, safely conducted away at night. 
 
 New disasters at the fort required Smith's presence. Beset 
 by hostile savages along 'the river, he at last reached home, with 
 five hundred bushels of corn as the result of this exhausting 
 campaign in the dead of winter. New hardships beset the col- 
 -ony, but were met with renewed energy on the part of Smith. 
 
B * 
 
 
BATTLE OF CAPTAIN SMITH AND THE INDIAN CHIEF. 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 43 
 
 The renegade Dutchmen managed through confederates in the 
 gang of ruffians within the fort to continue the thefts of arms 
 and ammunition. 
 
 One day, Smith, while walking in the forest, encountered 
 the gigantic king of Paspahey, and a terrible combat ensued. 
 The savage, of great strength and stature, slowly forced Smith 
 into the water, intending to drown him. But the Indian stum 
 bled over a stone. To regain his balance he threw up his 
 hands. At the same instant Smith's iron hand grasped his 
 throat; with the other hand the Englishman whipped out his 
 sword to kill his foe. But the Indian pleaded for his life. 
 Smith was a kind-hearted fellow, and besides, full of vanity. 
 The notion struck him that it would be a fine thing to take the 
 big Indian prisoner to the fort as proof of his prowess. This 
 he at once proceeded to do. Our artist has given us a vivid 
 picture of the scene of the combat, just at the moment when 
 Smith, clutching his adversary's throat, paused with sword in 
 air. The Indian was taken safely to the fort and put in chains. 
 He subsequently managed to escape, probably through the help 
 of Smith's enemies. 
 
 Shortly afterward, on a trip up the Pamunkey (now York) 
 River, Smith was attacked by this king's people, but when they 
 knew their foe, they threw down their arms, and their best ora 
 tor addressed Smith, telling him that his ex-captive was there 
 and proceeding to justify the escape. " Do you blame the fish 
 for swimming, or the bird for flying? Then you should not 
 blame my master for obeying the instinct of his nature to escape 
 to the freedom of his forests. Why do you pursue us and force 
 us at. too great loss to avenge the injuries we receive at your 
 hands ? The red man is a savage ; he knows not the white man's 
 God. But these are his rivers and forests. Here his people 
 have hunted and fished, planted seed and gathered harvests, for 
 many generations. Yet the white man seeks to take what is not 
 his. If you succeed in conquering us, we will simply abandon 
 the country of our fathers, and remove to a place where we will 
 
44 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 be beyond the white man's reach. If that were done the English 
 would gain nothing, but would lose the corn and fruit we are 
 willing to sell them. Why not, then, let us enjoy our houses, 
 and plant our fields in peace and security, seeing that you as 
 well as we will be benefited by our toil?" The result of this 
 speech was a friendship which lasted for many years. 
 
 A singular incident at this time raised Smith's reputation to 
 the highest pitch among the savages. Two of Powhatan's peo 
 ple had stolen a pistol. Smith arrested them, threw one in the 
 dungeon, and gave the other a certain time to produce the pistol, 
 in default of which the prisoner should die. Smith, pitying the 
 fellow in the dungeon, sent him some food and some charcoal for 
 a fire. At midnight the other returned with the pistol, but his 
 friend was found badly burned, and smothered to death with 
 charcoal fumes. The grief of the poor fellow was so great that 
 Smith said, if he would be quiet he would restore his compan 
 ion to life. Little thinking a recovery would take place, Smith 
 applied stimulants arid rubbed the Indian's body, when suddenly 
 he sat up ! To the great sorrow of his friend the " dead " Indian 
 was crazy. Smith, catching the spirit of the thing, told the other 
 to be quiet, and he would restore reason to his friend also. The 
 patient was laid by the fire and allowed to sleep, till morning. 
 He awoke in his right senses. Thenceforth the Indians believed 
 Smith could restore the dead to life. For three months, the 
 colonists, through the iron discipline of Smith, enjoyed peace 
 and prosperity. Twenty cabins were built at the fort; a block 
 house erected for defense, through which lay the only entrance; 
 a good well was dug, and a considerable quantity of tar and soap 
 ashes manufactured. 
 
 One day the unlucky colonists found that their abundant 
 store of corn was eaten up by the rats, which, from the few 
 brought over in the ship, had increased to thousands. With 
 out corn for bread work had to be stopped. No provision, 
 except wild roots and herbs, could be procured at that time of 
 year. Eighty men were sent down the bay to live on oysters ; 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 45 
 
 twenty went up the river to subsist on fish. The Indians, to 
 show their friendship, brought to the fort what game they 
 could find. Sturgeon were abundant. Those of the colony 
 who were not too lazy, dried the fish, pounded it to powder, 
 mixed it with herbs, and made a very tolerable bread. The 
 majority, however, would rather starve than work. They 
 importuned and abused Smith because he refused to trade 
 guns, swords, and ammunition for corn. He, at last, issued an 
 order, reciting that every man able to work who failed to 
 gather each day as much provision in a day as he himself did ? 
 should be taken across the river, and left as a drone. Some of 
 the vagabonds preferred to desert to the Indians, where they 
 could partake of the abundance without labor. But Powhatan 
 and his tributary chieftains imitated Smith, and all whites who 
 refused to work were flogged and sent back to the fort. 
 
 Meanwhile treachery was at work without and within. The 
 villians at the fort plotted with Powhatan to betray it. The 
 Indians were being taught that King James would kill Smith 
 for his ill-treatment of them. Besides these obstacles, the Vir 
 ginia Company was greatly dissatisfied. A considerable invest 
 ment of money in the colony had brought no return. The 
 North Sea was undiscovered. This was without excuse, argued 
 the London magistrates, when only a little longer trip, twenty, 
 thirty, or forty miles would, doubtless, have brought the colo 
 nists to the other ocean. What want of courage and common 
 sense was shown by not pushing the matter ! Besides, there 
 were yet no cargoes of gold pigs or even copper pigs sent home. 
 There must be gold there. Every one said there was. Prob 
 ably Smith was amassing a fortune, and his colony rolling in a 
 life of wealth and luxury, while he left the Honorable Board 
 of Directors to hold the bag. No doubt there were mountain 
 ranges of solid gold in Virginia, but the directors were not fault 
 finding. A certain report of one single mountain, or even hill, 
 of gold would be satisfactory. Even a very little hill, say two 
 hundred feet high and tAVo thousand feet in circumference, if it 
 
46 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 were not full of caves, would be quite comforting. Such a 
 modest demand, they argued, ought to be complied with. 
 
 Thus, at war with the Indians, betrayed by his own men, 
 and misrepresented and abused by the English capitalists, 
 Smith, no doubt, felt that, after all his hardships, his fall was 
 at hand. Lord De La Ware and others obtained a new charter 
 and commission from the English king. Preparations, more 
 elaborate than for any previous expedition, were made. Sev 
 eral ships in the fleet were wrecked in a storm. Those which 
 reached Jamestown brought many enemies of Smith, and a 
 great crowd of the London riff-raff. Smith, not yet formally 
 superseded, continued to exert his authority. 
 
 To relieve the Jamestown settlement somewhat of its unruly 
 elements, Smith planned two new settlements, one under Cap 
 tain West and one under Martin. Each, with its proportion 
 of provisions, set out in high glee. Martin and his men went 
 to Nausemon. The poor savages received him kindly, but the 
 novice mistook their noisy mirth, as they celebrated his arrival, 
 for hostility, and falling on the wretched Indians, captured their 
 poor, naked king and his houses. The work of fortification was 
 begun, and the savages, divining Martin's fear, attacked him, 
 released their king, killed several men and captured a thousand 
 bushels of corn which Martin had traded for. 
 
 The other expedition pitched its settlement in low, swampy 
 ground, liable to inundation, and well suited to breed fevers 
 among the men. To remedy this mistake Smith, still the 
 president, sent to Powhatan proposing to buy the town called 
 Powhatan, for the new settlement. A treaty was at last made 
 between them, by the terms of which Powhatan agreed to 
 resign the town, its forts and houses, with the entire region 
 thereabouts to the English. The latter, in return, were to 
 defend him and his dominions from the Monacans, and to pay 
 annually a certain proportion of copper. All thieves were to 
 be promptly returned to their own people for punishment. Each 
 house of Powhatan's was to annually furnish one bushel of corn 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 47 
 
 in exchange for a cubic inch of copper. When this treaty of 
 trade and friendship was completed, the swaggerers and roust 
 abouts of the settlement denied Smith's authority, and refused 
 to stir an inch from their swamp. In attempting to quell the 
 mutiny Smith barely escaped with his life. Well knowing the 
 importance of keeping faith with Powhatan, he exerted all his 
 skill to induce the men to take advantage of the treaty. But 
 the settlement had the notion that the Monacan country was 
 full of gold, that they could prevent any one else than them 
 selves from visiting it, and that Smith's desire to remove them 
 was prompted by his wish to secure access to the gold fields for 
 himself. 
 
 Meanwhile, Powhatan's people began to complain bitterly 
 to Smith. The old emperor sent messengers, saying that those 
 whom he had brought for their protectors were worse enemies 
 than the Monacans themselves ; that these " protectors stole 
 their corn, robbed their gardens, broke open their houses, beat 
 them, and put many in prison ; that, heretofore, out of love for 
 him, they had borne these wrongs, but after this they must 
 defend themselves." The shrewd old diplomate also offered to 
 fight with Smith against the settlement and quell the mutiny, 
 which he was keen enough to perceive and understand. 
 
 Failing in his well-meant efforts, Smith sailed away. Acci 
 dents are sometimes fortunate. His ship ran aground. Mes 
 sengers came running, begging him to return. In the brief 
 interval since his departure, Powhatan's enraged people had 
 made an Attack, killing many of the settlement. Smith 
 returned, restored order, removed the colony to the town Pow- 
 hatan, where they found a fort capable of defense against all 
 the savages in Virginia, good warm and dry houses to live in, 
 and two hundred acres of land ready for planting corn. This 
 comfortable and secure place was called Non-such. Hardly 
 were they well settled, when the old infatuation seized them. 
 Mutiny broke out. Smith, seeing the mutineers bent on their 
 own destruction, gave up in despair and left them forever. 
 
48 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 They at once abandoned the eligible lodges and fort at Non 
 such to return to the open air, and poisoned at that, of the 
 old swamp. 
 
 Misfortunes come not singly but in whole battalions. As 
 Smith was returning to Jamestown, disgusted at the folly lie 
 had witnessed, a bag of powder in the boat was accidentally fired, 
 tearing the flesh from his body and thighs and inflicting terrible 
 burns. In his agony he leaped into the river, and was barely 
 saved from drowning. Lacking both doctor and nurse, flat on 
 his back at the fort, suffering untold torments from the wounds, 
 poor Smith succumbed at last. His enemies deposed him; a 
 plot to murder him in his bed was almost consummated, an elab 
 orate indictment for his misdeeds was drawn up, and on Septem 
 ber 29, 1609, he sailed away from the inhospitable shores of 
 Virginia to return no more 
 
 "Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms, 
 O'ercame him quite." 
 
 Powhatan at once commenced active hostilities. 
 
 Henry Spelman was an English boy whom Smith had given 
 to Powhatan in the trade for the town of the same name. He 
 had afterwards left Powhatan and returned to the fort. Pow 
 hatan sent Thomas Savage, the other boy whom Newport had 
 given him, to Jamestown on an errand. Savage complained 
 of loneliness, and easily persuaded Spelman to return with him. 
 Powhatan now made use of him by sending word to the fort 
 that he would sell them corn if they would come up for it. It 
 may be easily believed that supplies were running low, now that 
 Smith was no longer there to plan and execute methods for 
 their procurement. An expedition of thirty-eight men set out 
 at once. No suspicion of treachery was felt. As the boat 
 landed, the Indians, who lay in ambush, sprang forth in over 
 powering numbers and killed every man in the party except 
 Spelman, who was returning with them. He fled through the 
 woods, made known his distress to Pocahontas, whose tender 
 
THE LEGEND OF PO WHAT AN. 49 
 
 heart seems to have been ever responsive to misfortune. 
 Through her help he was hidden for a while, furnished with 
 provisions by her own hand, and then assisted to secret flight. 
 Powhatan henceforth haughtily refused all trade. The 
 forests were filled with lurking savages. Many a man went 
 out from the fort to hunt game who never returned. Such 
 food as they had on hand was consumed and wasted by the 
 officers. The colonists bartered away their very swords and 
 guns, with which alone corn could be procured. Of the five hun 
 dred colonists at the time of Smith's departure there remained, 
 at the end of six months, only sixty, and these subsisted chiefly 
 on "roots, herbs, acorns, walnuts, and berries, and now and 
 then a little fish." It is almost impossible to believe the 
 stories of this " starving time." The corpses of two savages 
 who had been killed, were seized by the poorer colonists, boiled 
 with roots and herbs, and greedily devoured. " One among the 
 rest did Ml his wife, powdered her, and had eaten part of her 
 before it was known" This man was burned alive for his crime. 
 Strange as this story is, it was reaffirmed in most particulars in 
 the published report of an official investigation into the affairs 
 of the colony by the London directors in the year 1610. These 
 extremities were the result of sloth, vice, and crime as much 
 as of the natural hardships of the situation. The colony was 
 composed of the very offscourings of London. All planting 
 and gathering of crops was abandoned, the houses decayed, the 
 church became a tumbling ruin. They ate their fish raw rather 
 than build a fire and cook it. When Somers and Gates, after 
 terrible adventures, arrived with re-enforcements, they said the 
 colony would have been extinct in ten days had not succor 
 arrived. 
 
 With wavering fortunes the colony continued to exist. We 
 have little account of Powhatan, owing to the fact that his 
 remorseless hostility cut off all intercourse with him. In 1613 
 the princess, Pocahontas, had developed into the maturer beauty 
 of eighteen years. Captain Argall, Smith's ancient enemy, was 
 
50 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 making a voyage in search of supplies, when he learned that 
 Pocahontas, instead of being with her father, the emperor, was 
 living with the King Potowomek's people. It is not certainly 
 known why she was away from home. There are reasons for 
 thinking that she went to Potowomek, partly because her father 
 suspected her of friendship to the English, and desired to remove 
 her from their vicinity, and partly, because she herself was glad 
 to escape from the scenes of torture and butchery which took 
 place on the occasion of every capture of an Englishman. 
 
 Another account is, that she was making a friendly visit on 
 the occasion of an Indian fair. Argall resolved to capture her 
 if possible, and force Powhatan to ransom her by the release of 
 his prisoners, the restoration of stolen property, and abundant 
 gifts of corn. He resorted to a mean stratagem. Among the tribe 
 whose guest she was, Argall found a low savage, named Jaba- 
 zaws, to whom he offered the bribe of a copper kettle, to decoy 
 her on board his ship. The scoundrel had a keen insight into 
 his victim's character. Having no chance to play upon her curi 
 osity, because Pocahontas had seen many larger vessels, he 
 instructed his wife to pretend her great desire to see one. 
 
 Carefully planning for Pocahontas to overhear them, the 
 savage proceeded to beat his wife for her mock importunities. 
 She cried lustily, and at last he told her that if Pocahontas 
 would go aboard with her, she might go. The amiable girl, 
 always glad to oblige others, fell into the snare. Once on 
 board the ship, Argall decoyed her into the gun room, and 
 locked her up, in order to conceal from her the treachery of 
 her own people. Jabazaws and his wife gleefully received their 
 reward. Then Argall told Pocahontas she was his prisoner, 
 and must be the means of making peace between the English 
 and her father. At this announcement the cheat, Jabazaws, 
 and his wife, cried louder than poor Pocahontas herself, finally, 
 with many tears and embracings, taking leave of her. The 
 meanness of the man Argall, who could thus take advantage 
 of a young girl, a barbarian, forsooth, whose very life she had 
 
THE LEGEND OF PO WHAT AN. 51 
 
 risked again and again to help the English, is almost beneath 
 the whip of scorn. 
 
 This gallant gentleman took his prize to Jamestown, which 
 she looked upon for the first time since Smith's departure, 
 four years before. Messengers were dispatched to Powhatan, 
 announcing the capture of his daughter and the requisite ran 
 som set on her head. English captives, stolen tools, captured 
 guns, were to be restored, with much corn. Powhatan was 
 greatly disturbed by this news. Pocahontas was still his favor 
 ite daughter. But it was a great sacrifice to give up the English 
 weapons. Besides she had always inclined to aid the English, 
 which was wrong. Whatever were the thoughts of the white- 
 haired emperor, as this new sorrow burdened his heart, it was 
 three months before he responded to the message. This delay 
 was singular, and is hard to account for. It may have been 
 caused by the struggle between private affection for his daugh 
 ter and public duty to his country and people. At the end of 
 three months, he sent back seven of his English captives, each 
 armed with an unserviceable musket, and promised, on the 
 release of his daughter, to give five hundred bushels of corn. 
 This was promptly declined, and a demand made for the return 
 of every captive, gun, and sword. Powhatan was so angered 
 at this reply that he was not heard from for a long time. 
 
 In the following Spring, an expedition of one hundred and 
 fifty men took Pocahontas, and went up to Powhatan's seat. 
 The emperor refused to see their messengers. The English then 
 told his people they had come to receive a ransom for Pocahon 
 tas and restore her to liberty. To this the Indians replied 
 with showers of arrows. A fight ensued. Forty houses were 
 burned. Then a palaver was had, and a truce arranged till the 
 following day. Meanwhile Pocahontas went ashore, and two 
 of her brothers and some friends were permitted to see her. 
 She welcomed them, but in a rather frigid way. She spoke 
 little to any but her brothers, and told them plainly, that if 
 her father loved her, he would not value her less than old 
 
52 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 swords, axes, and guns; that for her part, she preferred to 
 remain with her captors, who treated her more kindly than her 
 father, unless he manifested his affection more actively. Her 
 brothers were fond of her, and were glad to find her gently 
 treated. They promised to persuade the emperor to make a 
 peace. Two Englishmen, John Rolfe and one Sparkes, at once 
 started to Powhatan's court to arrange a treaty. He haughtily 
 refused to see them, but his brother, Opechancanough, intimated 
 that a peace might be effected. 
 
 But while these elaborate negotiations were working to patch 
 up a cumbrous and probably short-lived treaty, another power, 
 with more skillful hands, was knitting a surer alliance. Poca- 
 hontas, whose gentle and refined nature from the first seemed 
 to yearn toward the civilization of the English, had changed 
 greatly during her residence with them. Her tears and entreat 
 ies to be set free, at the time of her capture, are in marked con 
 trast with her indifference, at the interview with her brothers, 
 toward her own people, and her willingness to remain with the 
 English. The real reason for this was known only to a single 
 one of her captors, Mr. John Rolfe, a steady, industrious, and 
 enterprising man, one of the best of the colony. He was a 
 widower, his young wife having died. When he came in con 
 tact with Pocahontas, her charms of person and graces of char 
 acter filled him with an admiration tinged with emotion. 
 
 Rolfe was a very religious fellow, and he made his Chris 
 tian duty to the untutored maiden the excuse for frequent calls, 
 long conversations, and earnest persuasions to renounce her idol 
 atry, and adopt the true Christian religion. Love is a cunning 
 fellow. He knows the foibles of human nature. He delights 
 to masquerade long in the characters of duty, friendship, 
 mutual improvement, pleasure, or religion, and then suddenly to 
 throw aside his masque and startle his victims with the sight 
 of his own true self. Thus it was that Master Rolfe kept 
 assuring himself that his talks and persuasions with Pocahontas 
 were merely done from a sense of duty ; and, as the girl slowly 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 53 
 
 yielded to his influence, until at last, just before her wedding, 
 she renounced the religion of her fathers, and formally profess 
 ing her adoption of Christianity, was baptized and re-christened 
 by the name of Rebecca, she too persuaded herself that she 
 was animated wholly by the strength of Master Rolfe's argu 
 ments and the truth of his cause. 
 
 When the expedition set out, of which the object was to 
 restore Pocahontas to her people, Rolfe must have undergone 
 great inward torment. He resolved to ask the governor, Sir 
 Thomas Dale, for permission to marry Pocahontas. Instead of 
 speaking to Dale, whom he saw every day. Rolfe drew up a 
 long letter, a sort of theological treatise, to him, and when he 
 set out to interview Powhatan on the subject of the peace, left 
 this curious document with a faithful friend, who was to deliver 
 it to the governor in the author's absence. The letter is a 
 glorious illustration of the perfection of love's masquerade, his 
 deft concealment of his real character from his victim. 
 
 It began with solemn assertions that the writer was moved 
 only by the Spirit of God; that he sought only to obey his 
 conscience, as a preparation for the " dreadful day of judgment, 
 when the secrets of all men's hearts shall be opened ;" that he 
 was in no way led by " carnall affection," and that he sought 
 only "for the good of this plantation, for the honor of our 
 countrie, for the glory of God, for my owne salvation, and for 
 the converting to the true knowledge of God and Jesus Christ, 
 an unbelieving creature, namely Pokahuntas." He went on to 
 describe how long the subject had borne on his mind, how he 
 had set before his mind the proneness of mankind to evil 
 desires, how he had studied the rebukes of the Bible against 
 marrying strange wives ; how the fearful struggle had kept up 
 day and night between the powers of light and darkness ; how 
 " besides the weary passions and suffering, he had daiely, hourely, 
 yea, and in his sleep indured; even awaking him to astonish 
 ment, taxing him with remissnesse, and carelessnesse, refusing 
 and neglecting to perform the duteie of a good Christian, pulling 
 
54 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 him by the eare and crying ; why dost thou not indeavor to 
 make her a Christian?" Still he proceeded with his foolish 
 delusion. He said that the Holy Spirit often demanded why 
 he was created, if not to labor in the Lord's vineyard. Here 
 was a good chance for him. Besides all which were her 
 apparent love for him, her intelligence and desire to be taught, 
 her willingness to receive good impressions, "and also the 
 spirituall, besides her owne incitements stirring me up hereunto." 
 That these " incitements " and the rest had great influence over 
 the writer of this remarkable love-letter is plain. "Shall I be 
 of so untoward a disposition as to refuse* to lead the blind in 
 the right way ? Shall I be so unnatural as not to give bread 
 to the hungrie, or uncharitable as not to cover the naked?" 
 
 Such horrible wickedness was not to be thought of. He 
 determined to sacrifice himself on the altar of duty. He could 
 not close, however, without renewed protests that he was not 
 influenced by his own desires or affections. In fact, one thinks 
 he doth protest too much. He finishes, saying, "I will heartily 
 accept of it as a godly taxe appointed me, and I will never 
 cease (God assissting me) untill I have accomplished and brought 
 to perfection so holy a worke, in which I will daily pray God 
 to bless me, to mine and her eternal happiness." 
 
 Governor Dale read this tedious missive, and no doubt saw 
 the size of the joke. But, nevertheless, he could see the mar 
 riage would be a good thing for the colony, and lay the founda 
 tion for a lasting peace. He approved of it heartily, humoring 
 Rolfe by giving his assent in the same style in which the let 
 ter was written, and, so far as we are informed, without wound 
 ing the susceptible heart of the. widower by any facetious 
 reflection on his cant and self-delusion. 
 
 Word was sent to Powhatan, and he, too, seemed to approve 
 of it. He was growing conservative in his old age, and he saw 
 in the marriage a career suited to the tastes of his daughter as 
 well as an assurance of long continued peace for his weary 
 people. The expedition returned to Jamestown, where Poca- 
 
THE LEGEND OF PO WHAT AN. 57 
 
 hontas, as before remarked, formally announced her conversion 
 to Christianity. This was really a good joke on Rolfe, for it 
 demolished at one blow the entire fabric of mock reasoning, by 
 which he justified his desire to marry Pocahontas. However, 
 the question was not sprung. Preparations for the wedding 
 went on merrily. Powhatan shortly sent down an old uncle of 
 Pocahontas to represent him at the wedding and give the bride 
 away. The ceremony was performed in the Jamestown Church, 
 about the 5th of April, 1614. This marriage is justly cele 
 brated as being the basis for a peace with the Powhatans 
 as long as Pocahontas lived. Other tribes, among them the 
 Chickahominies, who are said to have had no king, but a rude 
 sort of republican government, sent in their submission to this 
 colony, which no longer had occasion for war. 
 
 It is instructive 4 to notice that the colony at this time aban 
 doned the communal system of property, because while all were 
 fed out of the common store, some would shirk the labor, and 
 even the most industrious would "scarcely work in a week so 
 much as they would for themselves in a single day." The pros 
 perity of the colony was assured. Communism is the very soul 
 of barbarism; individual property the earliest sign of civilization. 
 
 The first time a thing occurs it is remarkable. The wedding 
 of Rolfe and Pocahontas, famous as the first marriage of a white 
 man with an Indian woman on this continent, recalls an incident 
 which had transpired twenty-seven years before. This was the 
 birth of a little waif known to history as Virginia Dare, the 
 first white child born in America. It took place in 1587, in 
 the unhappy colony at Roanoke, Virginia, founded under the 
 auspices of Sir Walter Raleigh, whose transcendent genius 
 more nearly apprehended the glorious destiny of America than 
 that of any other man of the age. This little maiden was 
 baptized when she was a week or two old. The scene was 
 one of thrilling interest to the anxious group of spectators. 
 That ceremony performed over the unconscious babe has been 
 described with touching interest by every historian of America. 
 
58 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Well might it be. What a world drama has been and will be 
 enacted on the new continent between the births of the first 
 white child and of the last white child in America! But the 
 history of little Virginia Dare closes with her baptism. Shortly 
 after, her father, leaving his wife and child behind, went to 
 England for food and help. When he returned no trace was to 
 be found of the colony, save the single word "CROATAN" carved 
 on a tree. Historians have speculated upon the fate of the lost 
 colony of Roanoke and of Virginia Dare, but no satisfactory 
 solution has ever been given of the mystery. 
 
 Such benefits had flowed from the marriage of Pocahontas 
 that good Governor Dale piously ascribing it to the Divine 
 approval which rested on the conversion of the heathen, and 
 reflecting that another daughter of Powhatan would form an 
 additional pledge of peace, sent Hamor and the interpreter, 
 Thomas Savage, to Powhatan, for the purpose of securing 
 another daughter for himself. At the town of Matchcat, farther 
 up the river than Werowocomoco, from which the emperor had 
 removed on account of the proximity of the English, the visitors 
 were received. The emperor seemed glad to see Savage, and 
 invited him to his house. After a pipe of tobacco had been 
 passed around, Powhatan inquired anxiously about his daugh 
 ter's welfare, " her marriage, his unknown son, and how they 
 liked, lived, and loved together." Hamor answered that Rolfe 
 was very well, and " his daughter so well content that she would 
 not change her life to return and live with him, whereat he 
 laughed heartily, and said he was very glad of it." 
 
 Powhatan then desired to know the reason of the unex 
 pected visit. Hamor said his message was private, and he 
 desired no one to be present. The emperor at once ordered the 
 room cleared of all except the inevitable pair of queens who sat 
 on either side of the monarch. As a propitiatory introduction 
 to the subject, Hamor delivered a message of " love and peace," 
 supplementing it with presents of coffee, beads, combs, fish 
 hooks, and knives, and a promise of the long-wished-for grind- 
 
THE LEGEND OF PO WHAT AN. 59 
 
 stone, whenever Powhatan would send for it. Hamor then pro 
 ceeded to speak of the great reputation for beauty and attract 
 iveness which Powhatan's youngest daughter bore, of the desire 
 of Pocahontas to have her sister's companionship, of Governor 
 Dale's intention to remain permanently in Virginia, and his 
 desire, in case the young lady proved to be all that was reported 
 of her, to make her his "nearest companion, wife, and bed 
 fellow." Such an alliance, Hamor represented, would be an 
 honor to all concerned, and would form a new bond of alliance 
 and friendship. 
 
 When Hamor had finished, the emperor gracefully acknowl 
 edged the compliment, but protested that his daughter had 
 been three days married to a certain one of his .kings. Hamor 
 replied that this was nothing, that the groom would readily 
 relinquish her for the ample presents which Governor Dale 
 would make, and further, that the emperor might easily exert 
 his authority to reclaim his daughter on some pretext. To this 
 base proposition the old monarch made an answer, of which the 
 nobility and purity might have put to shame the brazen Hamor. 
 He confessed that his real objection was the love he bore to his 
 daughter, who was dearer to him than his own life ; that though 
 he had many children, none delighted him as much as she ; that 
 he could not live unless he saw her every day during the few 
 remaining years of his life, which he could not do if she went to 
 live with the English, as he was resolved never to put himself 
 in their power by visiting them. He desired no other pledge 
 of friendship than the one already existing in the marriage of 
 his Pocahontas, unless she should die, in which case he would 
 give up another child. Finally, he urged with vehement and 
 pathetic eloquence, " I hold it not a brotherly part for your 
 king to endeavor to bereave me of my two darling children at 
 once. Give him to understand that, if he had no pledge at all, 
 he need not distrust any injury from me or my people. There 
 hath been already too much of blood and war. Too many of 
 my people and of his, have already fallen in our strife, and by 
 
60 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 my occasion there shall never be any more. I, who have power 
 to perform it, have said it ; no, not though I should have just 
 occasion offered, for I am now grown old and would gladly 
 end .my few remaining days in peace and quiet. Even if the 
 English should offer me injury, I would not resent it. My 
 country is large enough, and I would remove myself farther 
 from you. I hope this will give satisfaction to your king. 
 He can not have my daughter. If he is not satisfied, I will 
 move three days' journey farther from him, and never see 
 Englishmen more." 
 
 His speech was ended. The barbarian's hall of state was 
 silent. The council fire, unreplenished, had burned low during 
 the interview, and the great, crackling logs lay reduced to a 
 dull heap of embers, fit symbol of the aged monarch who had 
 just spoken; within their midst still burned the glowing heart 
 of fire, but more and more feebly, while over all the white and 
 feathery ashes were weaving the shroud of death. Call him 
 a savage, but remember that his shining love for his daughter 
 only throws into darker shadow the infamous proposition of 
 the civilized Englishman to tear away the three days' bride 
 from the arms of her Indian lover, and give her to a man 
 who had already a wife in England. Call him a barbarian, but 
 forget not that, when his enemies hungered he had given them 
 food. When his people were robbed, whipped, and imprisoned 
 by the invaders of his country, he had only retaliated, and 
 had never failed to buy the peace, to which he was entitled 
 without money and without price. Call him a heathen, but do 
 not deny that when he said that, if the English should do 
 him an injury, he would not resent it, but only move farther 
 from them, he more nearly followed the rule of the Master, 
 of whom he was ignorant, than did the faithless, pilfering 
 adventurers at the fort, who rolled their eyes heavenward and 
 called themselves CHRISTIANS. 
 
 In 1616 John Rolfe and Pocahontas went to England, 
 taking several Indians with them. Here Rolfe well-nigh got 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
THE LEGEND OF PO WHAT AN. 61 
 
 into trouble over his marriage. The intelligent King James, 
 the same who wanted his minister to procure him a flying- 
 squirrel, because he was " so well affected to such toys," took 
 it into his limited head that Rolfe, a private gentleman, by 
 marrying into the imperial family of Powhatan, had committed 
 high treason. The " anointed " pedant was deeply offended, 
 and insisted that Rolfe meant to claim the Virginia dominion 
 as his wife's heritage, and have the crown descend to his pos 
 terity. His counselors succeeded with difficulty in showing 
 him how far-fetched the notion was. The Lady Rebecca, as 
 Pocahontas was called in England, received, for a little while, 
 considerable attention. The aristocracy ventured to patronize 
 her slightly on account of her rank. She was received by 
 the king and queen, taken to the theaters, and called on by 
 several of the nobility. Captain Smith, busy with other mat 
 ters, did not see her for some time, but either to help Pocahon 
 tas or draw attention to himself, wrote the queen a letter, in 
 which he gave a brief and spirited account of the many kind 
 nesses which Pocahontas had bestowed on the colony, and 
 earnestly requesting that she receive the royal favor and atten 
 tion while in England. 
 
 In a little while, however, Pocahontas seems to have been 
 neglected. The novelty wore off. After the first weeks of her 
 visit she was no longer spoken of as the wife of Rolfe at all. 
 Either on account of the London smoke or the neglect of the 
 Virginia company, she was staying at Branford. Smith relates 
 the story of a singular interview which he had with her here. 
 After a modest salutation, she, without a word, turned her back 
 to him, and passionately buried her face in her hands. At 
 length she broke forth with pathetic reproaches, recalling the 
 old scenes at the colony, and her sacrifices for the English, 
 how he had called Powhatan "father" when he was a stranger 
 in a strange land, yet how, now that their positions were 
 reversed, he neglected her and objected to her calling him 
 " father." She said that after his departure the English always 
 
62 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 told her he was dead, yet Powhatan had commanded those of 
 her people that were with her to search for Smith, and find out 
 whether he was living, "because your countriemen will lie 
 
 much." The rea 
 son of her conduct 
 is obscure. Many 
 have thought that 
 Rolfe had told her 
 Smith was dead, 
 because she was 
 resolved never to 
 marry to any one 
 as long as he was 
 alive. It is not im 
 possible that she 
 had loved him, 
 and was deeply 
 grieved to find 
 the trick which 
 had been played 
 U p 0n her. More 
 likely she was 
 homesick, and, grieved to find the English no longer paid her 
 any attention, was deeply sensitive to Smith's neglect, in not 
 visiting her earlier and renewing their old acquaintance. 
 
 Among the Indians who accompanied Pocahontas was Toco- 
 moco, her brother-in-law, who was sent by Powhatan to take 
 the number of people in England, and bring an account of their 
 strength and resources. When he arrived at Plymouth he got 
 him a long stick, and began to cut a notch in it for every 
 person he met. But he soon wearied of the endless task, and 
 threw away the stick. When he was asked by Powhatan on 
 his return, how many Englishmen there were, he said: "Count 
 the stars in the sky, the leaves on the trees, and the sand on 
 the sea-shore ; for such is the number of people in England." 
 
 CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 63 
 
 This same savage accidentally met Captain Smith in London, 
 where their old acquaintance was renewed. He at once begged 
 Smith to show him his God, king, queen, and prince, about 
 whom Smith had told him so much. Smith put him off the 
 best he could about showing his God, but told him he had 
 already seen the king, and the others he should see when he 
 liked. The Indian stoutly denied having seen the king, James 
 not coming up to his notion of the ruler of such a people. 
 When convinced that he had really seen the king, he said, with 
 a melancholy countenance : " You gave Powhatan a white dog, 
 which he fed as himself; but your king has given me not a 
 mouthful nor a present; yet I am better than your white dog." 
 
 In May, 1617, Rolfe, who had been appointed secretary of 
 Virginia, with his wife and child, prepared to return to America. 
 They were on board their ship, which was detained a few days 
 in the Thames by contrary winds. During this delay the lovely 
 Pocahontas was taken ill, and, after an illness of three days, 
 died, in a stranger's land. 
 
 Thus ends one of the briefest and loveliest romances to be 
 found in all literature. Amid the darkness of baii)arism and 
 savagery, bloomed the rare and delicate nature of Pocahontas, a 
 wild rose in the rocky cleft of black precipices and gloomy 
 mountains. She seemed born for a different sphere than that 
 in which she was placed. The brutality of her people was 
 wholly absent from her affectionate heart. She took naturally 
 to the civilization which she so little understood. Whatever 
 motives may have influenced her in her adoption of Christianity, 
 it is on record that she "lived civilly and lovingly" with her 
 husband. From the first she had no fear of the English, going 
 freely to their fort and on board their ships. Nearly every one 
 in the colony had some favor, bestowed in the days of her 
 frolicsome visits to Jamestown, for which to remember her. 
 On all occasions she was their friend, supplying them with pro 
 visions, concealing them from her father, and aiding them to 
 escape. Her influence over her father was unceasingly exerted 
 
64 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 in behalf of the strangers. Modern criticism has regarded some 
 of the stories told of her as romances. But after disentangling 
 the flower from all the weeds and mosses of legend which may 
 have sprung up around it, the beautiful, affectionate nature, the 
 
 refined manners, and apt in 
 telligence of the Indian prin 
 cess, remain in all their lily- 
 like freshness and fragrance. 
 Her early death, though sad 
 enough, was perhaps fortu 
 nate, both for her and for her 
 II history. As to herself, had 
 f. she lived, her keen intelli 
 gence would have learned to 
 understand more and more 
 fully the difference between, 
 her people and the English, 
 a knowledge which would 
 have brought only pain and 
 sorrow to her loving heart. 
 And as for her history, her 
 early death has left us only 
 her portrait in the perfect bloom of youth, a youth which has 
 been made immortal by the pens of countless historians. 
 
 In 1618 died the great Powhatan, "full of years and 
 satiated with fightings and the delights of savage life." He is 
 a prominent character in the early history of our country, and 
 well does he deserve it. In his prime he had been proportion 
 ally to his surroundings, as ambitious as Julius Caesar, and not 
 less successful. He had enlarged his dominions by conquest to 
 many times their original size, and had spread the terror of his 
 arms over a vast extent of country. He had many towns and 
 residences, and over a hundred wives. In his government he 
 was despotic and cruel. Offenders were beaten to death before 
 him, or tied to trees and torn limb from limb, or broiled to 
 death on red-hot coals. 
 
 POCAHONTAS. 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 65 
 
 His people had a sort of religion, with priests, temples, and 
 images, but " the ceremonies seemed not worship, but propitia 
 tions against evil," and they appear to have had no conception 
 of an overruling power or of an immortal life. Their notions 
 of personal adornment were very decided, if not pleasing. Oil 
 and paints were daubed all over the person. Their ears had 
 large holes bored in them, in which were hung bones, claws, 
 beads, "and some of their men there be who will weare in 
 these holes a small greene-and-yellow coloured live snake, neere 
 half a yard in length, which crawling and lapping itself about 
 his neck, oftentimes familiarly he suffreeth to kiss his lips. 
 Others wear a dead ratt tyed by the tayle." 
 
 In his last days Powhatan much feared a conspiracy, between 
 his brother Opechancanough and the English, to overthrow his 
 government, to prevent which his diplomacy was carefully exer 
 cised. There is much that is pathetic in the close of his career, 
 his dominions overrun with strangers, his well-beloved daughter 
 sleeping her last sleep in a foreign land, and himself,' no longer 
 opposing armed resistance to the English, which he was shrewd 
 enough to see must in the long run result in the extermination 
 of his people, but simply " moving farther from them." 
 
 It would be unjust to the man, to whom we are indebted for 
 the story of Powhatan and his lovely daughter, to close this 
 account without referring briefly to his career after leaving Vir 
 ginia. He was forever after a hobbyist on America. He was 
 always laboring to get up new expeditions, of which he should 
 have command. Once he did go to New England, and as usual, 
 met with thrilling adventures. But he was pursued by the same 
 ill luck which had been his evil star. His ambitious plans were^ 
 never fulfilled, or, if he did get men to invest in his enterprises, 
 they always met with disaster and ruin. Smith had the great 
 good fortune to be his own historian. He took care to tell his 
 own story, and he told it well, making himself the center of 
 every scene. He was a graphic writer, full of wit, and his 
 pages, though crude in style and bungled in arrangement, are 
 the most interesting chronicles of his time. 
 
66 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Smith was a prolific author. His first work was " The True 
 Relation," written by him, while in America, narrating the history 
 and condition of the colony, published in London, 1608. In 1612 
 he published his " Map of Virginia and Description of the Coun 
 try." This map shows that he had a fine eye for topographical 
 outline. Other works were "A Description of New England," 
 1616; "New England's Trials," 1620; "The General Historic," 
 1624, with three later editions. He wrote also "A Sea Gram 
 mar" and several other books, which went over the same ground 
 of his own adventures and the history of the Jamestown colony. 
 These books were written and published by him at his own 
 expense. He distributed them gratuitously in large numbers, 
 solely with a view to exciting interest about America, and help 
 ing him in working up his plans. 
 
 Reading between the lines, we see a man of strong nature, 
 full of conceit, of manners disagreeable because egotistical, impa 
 tient of opposition, and insufferably fond of talking about and 
 magnifying his own adventures. Yet he was no ordinary char 
 acter. The very rashness and impulsiveness which he mani 
 fested in England made him fertile in expedients in fighting 
 Powhatan. The very strength of his dictator-like intellect, 
 which gained him the hate of the Jamestown colonists, whether 
 of lower or equal rank, caused him to achieve success with the 
 savages and keep the storehouse of the fort full of corn. His 
 great energy expending itself on the one hobby of working up 
 expeditions to America, no doubt, made him to some extent a 
 nuisance in England, after he was discountenanced and insulted 
 by the Virginia company. But that Smith was a smart man, of 
 rare force and ingenuity, far ahead of his age in foreseeing the 
 future greatness of America, and possessing executive ability of a 
 high order, must be conceded. He came, in time, to regard him 
 self as the originator of all the discoveries and colonizations of 
 his busy age, mentioning the Virginia colony as "my colony," 
 and in relating the story of an expedition, of which he was 
 only a private in the rear rank, saying, "/ took ten men and 
 
THE LEGEND OF POWHATAN. 69 
 
 went ashore," "/ ordered the boats to be lowered," and so forth. 
 His swaggering rhetoric brings a smile to the face of the reader. 
 His latest and best biographer says : " If Shakespeare had known 
 him, as he might have done, he would have had a character 
 ready to his hand that would have added one of the most amus 
 ing and interesting portraits to his gallery. He faintly suggests 
 a moral Falstaff, if we can imagine a Falstaff without vices." 
 Smith was not only a good Churchman, but a good man. His 
 private life, passed amid the roughest characters and surround 
 ings, was upright and pure. He was never heard to use an oath. 
 In spite of his incessant efforts, by writing books, making 
 speeches, and addressing letters with offers of his services, to 
 colonization societies, Smith was compelled to remain a mere 
 spectator of the rapid settlement of the New World. Though 
 out of money and out of reputation, his buoyant spirits never 
 sunk. He was a Micawber, always expecting something to turn 
 up, or better yet, a Colonel Mulberry Sellers, who was never 
 without a scheme with " millions in it." Hardship and disap 
 pointment made him prematurely old, if it did not make him 
 unhappy. His last years were spent in poverty-stricken seclu 
 sion, a "prince's mind imprisoned in a pauper's purse," as was 
 said of him by a friend. Fed by his "great expectations," he 
 held up his head to the end. Almost his last act was to make 
 his will in due form, pompously disposing to Thomas Parker, 
 Esq., of "all my .houses, lands, tenements, and hereditaments 
 whatsoever." They were located only in his fancy. When the 
 instrument was duly drawn, he, who had written so many books, 
 could only make his mark. The end had come. On June 21, 
 1631, being fifty-two years old, he passed away. He lived and 
 died a bachelor. He was wedded to his love of adventure. 
 While there is much about him at which to laugh, there is more 
 which begets admiration and sympathy for him who called him 
 self, on the title-pages of his books, the " sometime Governor 
 of Virginia and Admiral of New England." 
 
70 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 
 
 OBERT CAVALIER DE LA SALLE is one 
 
 of the loneliest characters of history. His life 
 was a struggle between Will and Fate. He 
 was a Frenchman, the descendant of a wealthy 
 family of Rouen. While but a child his love 
 of study, his dislike of amusements, his serious 
 energy, caused his family to select for him a 
 career in the Church. His education was care 
 fully attended to by the great " Society of Jesus," of which he 
 became a member. But while La Salle was at first attracted 
 to the Jesuits by their marvelous discipline, their concentrated 
 power, their unequaled organization, his strong nature, as he 
 approached manhood, rebelled at the vast machine of which he 
 was only a part. He found himself, not at the center, but at 
 the circumference of power. He left them. By the laws of 
 the order, the fortune left him by his father had become the 
 property of the " Society." Impoverished, but ambitious, La 
 Salle, a young man of twenty-three years, in 1666, turned his 
 back on the splendors and achievements of France in the reign 
 of Le Grand Monarque, to seek his fortune among the wilder 
 nesses of America. 
 
 His destination was Montreal. An association of priests 
 called the Seminary of St. Sulpice, were the feudal proprietors 
 of the entire region. The priests were granting out their lands 
 on easy terms to any who would form a settlement. La Salle 
 at once arranged for a large tract of land, eight miles above 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 71 
 
 Montreal, at the place now called La Chine. The location was 
 exposed and dangerous, but eligible for the fur trade. Here he 
 marked out a palisaded village, platted the land within the pali 
 sade into lots containing a third of an acre each, and without the 
 palisade into forty-acre fields. These tracts he rented out for 
 a small, annual rent to tenants. He built a comfortable house 
 for himself, and a small fort. The little settlement of which he 
 was the feudal lord grew and flourished. At evening La Salle 
 would look out over the tranquil waters of Lake St. Louis, and 
 as his imagination dwelt on the lonely world stretching ever 
 toward the sunset, the great purpose of its exploration took 
 shape in his mind. The Indians who came to trade with him 
 told him of a great river in the West, but of its destination they 
 were ignorant. The dream of the age, a passage to the South 
 Sea, was realized, if this river emptied into the Southern or 
 Pacific Ocean. So the restless La Salle sold his seignory back 
 to the priests of St. Sulpice, and with the money bought canoes 
 and supplies for an expedition. 
 
 The Sulpitians were envious of their more famous .rivals, 
 the Jesuits. The latter had long excluded every rival from 
 missionary labors among the Indians. They threaded forests, 
 swam rivers, endured hunger, cold, and disease to follow the 
 Indian to his wigwam. With deathless pertinacity, they learned 
 hideous languages, lived on nauseous food, and dared the flames 
 of torture, to tell the story of their religion. No sacrifice was 
 too great, no enterprise too hazardous, no suffering too severe to 
 deter them from their great object the conversion of the sav 
 ages. Everywhere these heroic priests had preceded the march 
 of civilization. Twenty years before the saintly Marquette 
 floated down the Mississippi, a Jesuit establishment was located 
 on its banks. When the Hurons, among which they labored so 
 long, were driven from their homes by the resistless arms of the 
 Five Nations, the priests shared their sufferings and exile. Long 
 before any other white men, they had traversed the great lakes 
 and unfurled the banner of the cross on their farthest shores. 
 
72 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 For all this wasted heroism the rewards seem meager 
 enough. Now and then a savage, attracted by some beads, 
 would allow himself to be baptized ; but, as one chronicler says, 
 " an Indian would be baptized ten times a day for a pint of 
 brandy." Sometimes the priests were edified by seeing a war 
 rior throw a piece of tobacco at the foot of the cross as a sym 
 bol of worship. " I have been amply rewarded," says one of 
 these fathers, after being fed by his hosts for six days on some 
 nauseous, boiled lichen and a piece of old moccasin, " for all my 
 sufferings. I have this day rescued from the -burning a dying 
 infant, to whom its mother allowed me to administer the sacred 
 rites of baptism, and who is now, thank God, safe from that 
 dreadful destiny which befalls those who die without the pale 
 of our most holy Church." 
 
 The Sulpitians, envying the Jesuits, aided La Salle in his 
 efforts, and also fitted out an expedition of their own to join 
 him, hoping to find fields for their own missionary zeal. This 
 double-headed expedition was ill-suited to the imperious will of 
 La Salle. After weeks of travel the priests resolved to direct 
 their course to Lake Superior. La Salle warned them that they 
 would find the field preoccupied by the Jesuits. La Salle's 
 goal was the Ohio, which his Indian friends had confounded 
 with the Mississippi. The two expeditions separated. The 
 priests traversed the great lakes, and met with many hardships, 
 only to find La Salle's prediction true. One night a storm 
 swept their baggage, containing their altar service, into the 
 lake. This they took to be the work of the Devil, to prevent 
 their having mass. Soon afterward they found a stone idol in 
 the forest, which inspired their highest resentment. Hungry 
 and petulant, they attacked the thing with fury, broke it up, 
 and dumped the fragments in the lake. This pious exploit was, 
 as they said, divinely rewarded by a bear and a deer, killed the 
 same day. They returned to Montreal without having made a 
 convert or a discovery. 
 
 La Salle's men had mostly deserted him, and returning to 
 
STARVING INDIANS AT THE STOCKADE OF QUEBEC. 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 75 
 
 his old settlement, called it La Chine in derision of his phantom 
 idea of a passage to China. With one companion, he pushed 
 on to the south, discovered the Ohio River, and descended 
 it to the falls at Louisville, Kentucky. Here his guide deserted 
 him, and La Salle made his way back to Montreal alone. In 
 the following year he made a similar trip to Lake Michigan, and 
 discovered the Illinois River. 
 
 The information gained on these trips and from the Indians, 
 together with vague rumors among the Jesuits, gradually cre 
 ated a belief by La Salle, that the Mississippi flowed into the 
 Gulf of Mexico. His fertile mind mapped out the vast scheme 
 of discovery and conquest, to the accomplishment of which he 
 devoted the remainder of his life. History has no parallel for 
 his labors. His idea was to explore the Mississippi, build a 
 chain of French forts from the Lakes to the Gulf, command the 
 mouth of the Mississippi with a fortress which should be the 
 key to the continent. The great river should be open only to 
 the navies of France. The vast interior domain of the conti 
 nent should become a new empire for Louis XIV to govern. 
 
 England should be confined to the strip of sea coast east of 
 the Alleghanies ; Spain to Florida, Mexico, and South America. 
 The trade with Indians for furs and hides, opened up through 
 the whole interior of the continent, from the base line of the 
 Mississippi and the chain of forts, would enrich France beyond 
 the scope of the imagination; and this was but the prelude to 
 the great empire which La Salle foresaw was destined to flourish 
 between the Alleghanies and the Rockies, the Lakes and the 
 Gulf. The Jesuits might hold undisputed sway in frozen Canada. 
 It was for him to discover and control the rich and beautiful 
 Mississippi valley. 
 
 In 1672 the Count de Frontenac became governor of New 
 France. He was a bold and ambitious man, with many points 
 of resemblance to La Salle. The latter, nursing his mighty 
 dream in the secrecy of his own brain, saw that Canada must 
 be the basis for the fabric. From there he must start, from 
 
76 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 there receive supplies and men. Nor could he stir without the 
 permission of the government. Frontenac became the friend of 
 the youthful, but stern, and self-poised adventurer. 
 
 A plan was formed between them, to build a fort at the spot 
 now occupied by Kingston, near the junction of Lake Ontario 
 and the St. Lawrence River. The ostensible reason was defense 
 against the Iroquois. But Frontenac saw in it a monopoly of 
 trade and La Salle regarded it as the first link in the chain 
 which was to bind America to the throne of France. 
 
 The location chosen was the territory of the Iroquois, the 
 dreaded Five Nations. This league of Indians, the Mohawks, 
 Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, and Senecas, embraced the most 
 intelligent, powerful, and warlike races on the continent. Orig 
 inally occupying about what is now New York State, they had 
 extended their all-conquering arms over Pennsylvania, Ohio, 
 Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois, and much of Canada. A thou 
 sand miles from their council fires were brave but subjugated 
 peoples, who held their lands at the pleasure of their conquer 
 ors, paid annual tribute, and prostrated themselves before embas 
 sies of Iroquois, who called them dogs and spat in the faces of 
 their proudest chieftains. 
 
 The Iroquois hated the French, who had helped their Cana 
 dian neighbors to defend themselves from the scourge. More 
 over, the English and Dutch furnished them arms, and made 
 them a sort of police over other tribes. Many a party of 
 Indians from the Lake Superior region, with its fleet of fur- 
 laden canoes, was waylaid by the Iroquois on the way to Mon 
 treal, and either plundered or forced to trade with the English 
 and Dutch. 
 
 La Salle was dispatched to Onondaga, where the council- 
 house of the confederacy was located, to invite them to a con 
 ference at the site of the proposed fort. On the appointed day, 
 Frontenac, in glittering armor, with a brilliant and formidable 
 force of French soldiery, met the assembled hosts of the Iro 
 quois. By means of alternate threats, persuasions, and presents, 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 77 
 
 he obtained their consent to build the fort, which was named 
 in honor of himself. 
 
 The next step in La Salle's course was to erect a fort at the 
 mouth of the Niagara River. But it was indispensable to obtain 
 the sanction of the French Government. Fort Frontenac had 
 been built without any authority. Already strong influences 
 were at work to have Louis XIV order it to be torn down. 
 First, was the political party in Canada, who had supported the 
 former governor, and who became the mortal enemies of Fron 
 tenac when he supplanted his predecessor. The political ani 
 mosities of Frenchmen are the most bitter and far reaching of 
 any people. When they hate, they hate. Another group of 
 formidable enemies were the merchants of Montreal and Quebec. 
 They saw that Frontenac and La Salle, with their fort so much 
 nearer the lakes, the great avenue of Indian traffic, would have 
 a practical monopoly of the fur trade. The last, but by no 
 means least, of the enemies of the governor and the dauntless 
 La Salle, were the Jesuits. La Salle was a zealous Catholic, 
 but he despised the Jesuits. The latter, who had long had a 
 monopoly of New France, were already losing it in Lower Can 
 ada. They therefore watched their western missions with the 
 greatest jealousy, and resented every movement which tended 
 to open up the great lakes to their rivals. 
 
 The first attack of these dangerous enemies on La Salle was 
 an attempt to secure the destruction of Fort Frontenac. La 
 Salle was arranging to return to France in the fall of 1674, in 
 order to lay his projects before the king, and resist these 
 intrigues, when his ambition received a powerful stimulus from 
 the report of Joliet, who in the spring of 1673 had set out 
 with Father Marquette, and five boatmen, to explore the Miss 
 issippi, and carry the Gospel to the countless tribes along 
 its banks. 
 
 Marquette was the child of an illustrious family of the 
 French nobility. Inspired solely by a sense of religious duty, 
 he had bidden farewell to the splendors of the baronial castle in 
 
 5 
 
78 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 which he was born, to dwell among the Indians. Slowly the 
 little party made their way through the lakes, up Green Bay 
 and Fox River, thence by many weary portages on to the Missis 
 sippi. The simple and inoffensive savages, perhaps drawn more 
 by the gentle and saint-like spirit of Marquette than by his 
 explanations of the atonement, received the strangers kindly, 
 pressed on them their best hospitality, and after many solicita 
 tions for them to remain, helped them on their weary way. 
 At the village of the Illinois the two unarmed Frenchmen were 
 treated to a great feast. The first course was Indian meal, 
 boiled in grease, which their host fed them with a spoon. This 
 was followed by a vast platter of fish. The host carefully 
 picked the bones from each mouthful, cooled it by blowing, 
 and tucked it in their mouths with his fingers. This excessive 
 politeness seemed to destroy the Frenchmen's appetites, either 
 from embarrassment or other causes, as the remaining courses 
 of baked dog and buffalo were hardly tasted. 
 
 Day after day the voyagers floated down the majestic river, 
 into the ever-opening landscape. Now their eye swept over 
 boundless prairies ; now they peered into the perennial gloom 
 of mighty forests; now they shuddered with alarm at the 
 imaginary dangers of red and green dragons and scaly monsters, 
 painted by some Indian artist on the dark background of the 
 overhanging bluffs; now they struggled with a more real danger 
 in the mighty torrent from the Missouri River, which hurled its 
 masses of mud and uprooted trees far out into the transparent 
 depths of the Mississippi. As they proceeded southward the 
 sun became warmer, the vegetation denser, the flowers more 
 luxuriant. Every evening, after hauling their canoes ashore, 
 Marquette, with clasped hands, would kneel before the "Father 
 of Waters," and pour out his soul in prayer to the Infinite. As he 
 prayed, a mild supernatural radiance would illumine his delicate 
 and scholarly features. The spoken words would often cease, 
 but still the slender black-gowned figure, with hands lifted, arid 
 face turned toward the crimson glories of the dying day, con- 
 
' ' : ' ' ' 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 81 
 
 tinued kneeling till the black bannered armies of night darkened 
 all the air. 
 
 Seven hundred miles from the mouth of the Mississippi the 
 voyagers commenced to retrace their lonely way. After weeks 
 of toil, they made their way back to the Green Bay mission. 
 Here Marquette, sick and exhausted from the toils of the expe 
 dition, was compelled to stop, while Joliet carried to Montreal 
 the news of the discovery, and of their firm belief that the 
 Mississippi flowed, not into the Pacific Ocean, but the Gulf of 
 Mexico. 
 
 Marquette, though feeble in health, after a long repose, 
 determined to return to the Illinois Indians, among whom he 
 had promised to found a mission. Taking two boatmen, Pierre 
 and Jaques, he started on the slow journey. Overtaken by 
 winter and renewed sickness, the gentle father was compelled to 
 pass the winter in a rude hut on the shores of Lake Michigan. 
 Some branches from the trees formed his bed, a log his pillow. 
 His earthly companions were filthy savages, but he had con 
 stantly present with him a divine Companion. Urged on by love 
 and pity, he set out amid the sleet and rain of early spring toward 
 his destination. He was received by the Illinois at their great 
 village, near the site of the present town of Utica, La Salle 
 County, Illinois. Here, every morning, in a vast wigwam, he 
 told his breathless auditors the story of the cross. 
 
 At last his failing health forced him to leave his sorrowful 
 Indian friends. Slowly and wearily, he set out with his two 
 faithful boatmen on the return trip. During the day he 
 reclined on a rude pallet in the canoe, his face turned toward 
 the skies he was so soon to inhabit. At night his two com 
 panions would hastily build a shelter, gently lift and carry him 
 from the boat, and then prepare the rough dish of Indian meal, 
 so ill suited to the sufferer. One evening Marquette pointed to 
 a lonely eminence on the lake shore : " That is the spot for my 
 last repose." The encampment was made earlier than usual. It 
 was well. In the darkness of the night, with a crucifix in his 
 
82 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 hand and a prayer on his lips, the gentle spirit of Marquette 
 exhaled to the skies, amid the sobs of his heart-broken com 
 panions. There in the wilderness they laid him to rest. 
 Though always called Father Marquette, he was just thirty- 
 eight years old. 
 
 We turn abruptly from this angelic nature to the iron figure 
 of La Salle. When Joliet arrived at Montreal with the news 
 of his discovery, La Salle found all of his beliefs as to the 
 course of the Mississippi confirmed. He at once sailed for 
 France, it being the fall of 1674. His tireless energy and 
 address secured him an audience with the great French 
 monarch himself. In strong, clear statements he explained 
 the necessity of the forts. His effort was successful. The 
 king granted him the fort and a large tract of land. He was to 
 pay back what the fort had cost the king, and rebuild it in 
 stone. His friends, anxious to share his prosperity, loaned him 
 money to pay the king. 
 
 La Salle returned to Canada with his grant in his pocket. 
 From this moment he was encircled by enemies who shadowed 
 him to his grave. The merchants and traders of Canada organ 
 ized into a league to oppose him. The country became a 
 hornet-nest for him. Every weapon which malice could wield 
 or ingenuity invent was employed to strike him. The Jesuits 
 procured an order from France forbidding his traders to go out 
 among the Indians. La Salle formed an Iroquois settlement 
 around his fort, so that the Indians thereafter came to him. 
 When he was at Quebec, the wife of his host undertook to play 
 the part of Potiphar's wife. La Salle quickly left the room to 
 find the hall filled with spies, who had expected to catch him 
 in the baited trap. Reports were sent to his brother, the Abbe 
 Cavalier, a Sulpitian priest, to the effect that La Salle had 
 seduced a young girl, and was living in gross immorality. His 
 excommunication might have taken place, had not his brother 
 visited him, only to find him presiding over a most exemplary 
 household. A servant was hired to put poison in his food. 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 83 
 
 La Salle ate of the dish, and was taken dangerously ill, but 
 finally recovered. Emissaries were sent out among the bloody 
 Iroquois, telling them that the fort was designed to aid in mak 
 ing war on them. On the other hand, word was sent through 
 many channels to La Salle that the Iroquois intended a massacre, 
 and Frontenac was urged to raise a force and attack them. It 
 was with great difficulty that the Indians were quieted. 
 
 In spite of these villainous machinations, La Salle's inflex 
 ible will was victorious. By the help of Indians, Fort Fronte- 
 riac was rebuilt of stone. Within its walls were substantial 
 barracks, a guard house, an officer's house, a forge, a well, a 
 mill, and a bakery. Nine small cannon peeped through the 
 walls. A dozen soldiers formed the garrison, and three times 
 as many laborers and canoe men were also inhabitants of the 
 fort. Outside were a French settlement, an Iroquois village, a 
 chapel and priest's house, a hundred acres of cleared land, and 
 a comfortable lot of live stock. Four forty- ton vessels and a 
 fleet of canoes were built for navigating the lakes. 
 
 Here in this solitude, a week's journey from the nearest 
 settlement, La Salle reigned with absolute power and rapidly 
 increasing wealth. But La Salle's ambition was not gain, but 
 glory. In the autumn of 1677 he again sailed for France. 
 His enemies, growing more numerous and bitter all the time, 
 were ahead of him, and denounced hyn to the government as a 
 fool and madman. This was embarrassing. The scheme he was 
 about to propose was so vast as to inspire distrust of his sanity. 
 In his memorial to the king, La Salle recited his discoveries, 
 described the great Mississippi valley, predicted its future, 
 unfolded its immense value to France, enumerated the enormous 
 difficulties which would attend its conquest, pointed out the anx 
 iety of the English to possess it, outlined the plan of securing 
 it by a vast chain of forts, artfully hinted at a chance to wrest 
 Mexico from Spain, declared -that it was as a basis for this 
 enterprise that he had built Fort Frontenac, and asked similar 
 privileges for another fort at the mouth of the Niagara the 
 
84 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 key to Lake Erie. The statesmen of France gave La Salle 
 an attentive audience. They granted him a royal patent allow 
 ing him to build as many forts as he chose on the same terms 
 as Fort Frontenac, gave him a monopoly of the trade in buffalo 
 hides, and as a crumb of comfort for the Jesuits, forbade him 
 to trade in Upper Canada or the great lakes. This patent says 
 nothing of colonies. Louis XIV was always opposed to them. 
 But a military dominion over the wilderness, and a path for the 
 invasion of Mexico, suited him well. For the accomplishment 
 of this Titanic labor he gave La Salle five years ! 
 
 La Salle's imperative need was money. This he borrowed 
 in large sums at ruinous interest. These creditors lived to 
 change from wealthy friends to bankrupted enemies. The 
 exploration of America cost untold fortunes, thousands of 
 heroic lives, and centuries of unrequited toil and hardships. 
 Our debt to the past is beyond computation. La Salle was 
 joined by the valued and trusted Henri de Tonty, a son of an 
 Italian banker, who invented Tontine insurance. Tonty had 
 lost a hand in battle. He was the only one of all his followers 
 in whom La Salle could place complete confidence. 
 
 On his arrival in Canada, although it was in the dead of 
 winter, La Salle pushed forward his enterprise. Father Henne- 
 pin, a Ricollet friar, and La Motte, another ally, who had joined 
 La Salle in France, with sixteen men were dispatched from Fort 
 Frontenac across the chopping waves of Erie as an advance 
 party. After breasting the fierce December storms, they disem 
 barked in the snow at the mouth of the Niagara River, and 
 commenced to erect a fortified house. The ground was thawed 
 with hot water. Little progress was made before it became 
 evident that the consent of the Iroquois must be obtained. La 
 Motte failed in this, but La Salle, following with supplies and 
 re-enforcements, appeared before the solemn council of the Five 
 Nations. Forty- two stately chiefs, arrayed in robes of black 
 squirrel skin, listened to him and received his presents. " The 
 senators of Venice," wrote Hennepin, " do not look more grave 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 85 
 
 or speak more deliberately than the counselors of the Iroquois." 
 La Salle's dexterity won their permission to erect a fortified 
 warehouse at the mouth of the Niagara River and to build a 
 ship above the Falls. This was a triumph over the Jesuits, two 
 of whom he found at the Iroquois capital, who spared no effort 
 to thwart his proceeding. 
 
 But La Salle's enemies were just beginning to show their 
 hand. He made his way to the camp on the Niagara River, 
 only to find that the pilot, to whom he had intrusted the nav 
 igation of his vessel, laden with costly supplies, tools, and 
 materials for building the ship above the Falls, had wrecked 
 her on the rocks, and of all her precious cargo nothing but the 
 anchors and cables for the new vessel had been saved. This 
 disaster was appalling and irreparable, and, as Hennepin says, 
 "would have made any one but La Salle give up the enterprise." 
 It became evident, too, that others of his party, besides the 
 pilot, had been tampered with. They were a motley crew of 
 French, Flemings, and Italians, quarrelsome, discontented, and 
 insubordinate. 
 
 La Salle, inflexible and silent, ordered an advance. Formed 
 in single file, every man heavily burdened with materials and 
 supplies for the new ship, the priest, Hennepin, with his altar on 
 his back, the procession stumbled through the deep snow, and 
 up the steep heights above Lewiston. Six miles above the Falls, 
 in spite of the terrible cold, the ship was begun. Food was 
 scarce. The Iroquois acted suspiciously. A squaw told the 
 French that they intended to burn the vessel on the stocks. 
 No corn could be bought. Leaving the energetic Tonty in com 
 mand, La Salle returned to the mouth of the river, marked out 
 the foundations for the new fort, and tluen set out on foot, with 
 two companions, for Fort Frontenac, two hundred and fifty miles 
 away, a trip made necessary by the loss of his supply vessel. 
 It was a bitter February. His path lay through the country of 
 the treacherous Iroquois, among whom the Jesuits were intrigu 
 ing for his destruction. For food he had a small bag of parched 
 
86 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 corn. Though a long way from the fort, the bag was growing 
 very light. Their rations were reduced one-half. This did not 
 suffice. They again reduced them one-half. One night they ate 
 the last handful. Then they did without eating. 
 
 La Salle arrived at the fort to find himself ruined. His 
 enemies had circulated reports that he was gone on a hare 
 brained adventure. Though his property at Fort Frontenac was 
 ample security for his Canada creditors, they had seized all 
 his property of furs, ships, and corn, wherever found. The 
 blow was terrific and beyond remedy. La Salle simply hard 
 ened himself to the shock. If any thing, his step was more 
 haughty, and his mouth more stern. But he could not allow 
 his foes to triumph by giving up his enterprise. 
 
 In August he reappeared on the Niagara River. He had 
 contrived to get a few supplies in spite of the vigilance of his 
 creditors, and he brought three more friars. Though he -hated 
 Jesuitism, he was zealous for the faith. Tonty had long since 
 completed the Griffin, as the new ship was called. It swung 
 easily at anchor, so near the shore that Hennepin preached from 
 its deck to the Indians. 
 
 On the seventh day of August, 1679, amid the chant of Te 
 Deums and the booming of cannon, the Griffin spread her snowy 
 canvas, and sped out over the blue depths of Lake Erie. The 
 first few days were lovely. The rippling water sparkled in the 
 sunlight; the distant shore seemed like a delicate blue penciling 
 upon the cloudless horizon; the bulwarks of the Griffin were 
 decorated with splendid game. On up the Detroit River and 
 Lake St. Glair into Lake Huron, which spread before them like 
 a sea, the voyagers held their way. Suddenly a terrific storm 
 arose. The vessel shook like a leaf before the fury of the bil 
 lows. La Salle and his company cried aloud to all the saints, 
 some one of whom it is presumed heard their cries, as the storm 
 passed away and the vessel found refuge behind Point St. 
 Ignace. La Salle lingered here at the Jesuit mission to find 
 his ever present enemies still bent on his destruction. He had 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 87 
 
 expected to have the expedition proceed from this point in 
 canoes, while he returned in the Griffin with a cargo of furs to 
 appease his creditors. Such signs of disloyalty appeared that 
 he sent the Griffin back without him. It proved to be a most 
 disastrous determination. 
 
 The fleet of deep-laden canoes were soon caught in another 
 storm. With great difficulty and danger the explorers reached 
 the shore, where they remained a week, drenched by incessant 
 sleet and rain. As the tempest raged on the lake, La Salle 
 trembled for the Griffin. Though sorely pressed for food, he 
 dared not camp near Indians, for fear some of his men would 
 steal his goods and desert to them. The hardships were intol 
 erable. Overhead great rain clouds swept across the sky; 
 beneath raged an angry turmoil of tossing waves. At night 
 the heavy canoes had to be dragged by the exhausted and 
 hungry men through the breakers and up the steep shores. One 
 morning foot-prints were seen in the soft mud and a coat was 
 missing. La Salle knew that the theft must be punished. A 
 stray Indian was made prisoner, and La Salle went to his peo 
 ple and told them he would be killed unless the coat was 
 returned. This was embarrassing. The coat had been cut up 
 and divided among the Indians. It was a fight or a compro 
 mise. The latter was effected by paying for the coat in corn. 
 
 La Salle made his way to the mouth of the St. Joseph 
 River. Here he was to meet Tonty, coming along the east shore 
 of the lake from Michillimackinac. The spot was wrapped in 
 its primeval solitude. To wait for Tonty was dangerous. Win 
 ter was setting in ; the men were restless ; yet La Salle said he 
 would wait, if it was by himself. In three weeks Tonty arrived. 
 One of his canoes with guns, baggage and provisions had been 
 swamped. Part of his men had deserted. For many days their 
 only food had been acorns. It was time for the Griffin to have 
 made her trip to Niagara and back again. Day after day 
 La Salle scanned the horizon, with anxious eye. No sail ap 
 peared. To delay longer was impossible. Two men were sent to 
 
88 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 meet it, while the remainder, thirty-three in all, began to force 
 their canoes up the St. Joseph River. They looked eagerly for 
 the trail which led to the great village of the Illinois. Nowhere 
 could it be found. La Salle went ashore to search for it. Night 
 came with thick falling snow, but La Salle returned not. The 
 suspense of the party was intolerable. It was four o'clock the 
 next day before he came in sight. He had lost his way, 
 In the night he saw the gleam of a fire through the forest. 
 Hastening to it, he found, not his camp, but a spot warm from 
 the body of a man who had evidently fled. Calling loudly and 
 getting no answer, La Salle coolly lay down and slept till morn 
 ing. On his return he was greatly exhausted from his exposure, 
 and slept in a hut close to the camp-fire. During the night 
 the hut caught fire, and he narrowly escaped the flames. 
 
 When at last the Illinois trail was found, the party shoul 
 dered canoes and baggage for the tramp. One of the men, 
 enraged at his hardships, raised his gun to shoot La Salle 
 through the back, but was prevented from doing so. The great 
 Indian town of five hundred enormous lodges was reached, but 
 every wigwam was silent and empty; and the ashes of every 
 camp-fire cold. The people were absent on their great hunt. 
 Abundant stores of corn were found, but it was a terrible 
 offense to touch it. La Salle felt that he must have the friend 
 ship of the Indians at any cost. The Jesuit emissaries were 
 busy among the Iroquois, inciting them to make war on the 
 distant Illinois, hoping by this means that La Salle and his for 
 lorn companions might be massacred, or at least forced to aban 
 don their enterprise. One morning, as the little flotilla of canoes 
 drifted down the Illinois River, the Indians of the deserted vil 
 lage came in sight. They received the strangers as friends, 
 providing food, and rubbing their feet with bear's grease. La 
 Salle made them a speech, told them he came to protect them 
 against the Iroquois, and intended to build a great wooden 
 canoe with which to descend the Mississippi and bring them the 
 merchandise they so much wanted. 
 

THE SECRET NOCTURNAL COUNCIL. 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 91 
 
 One would think that La Salle, in this wilderness, far remote 
 from the dwellings of men, would have been free from the pur 
 suit of his enemies. Not so. Hate, like love, laughs at dis 
 tance and difficulties. That very night a Jesuit emiss-ary 
 reached the Indian camp. A secret nocturnal council was held. 
 The stranger warned the Illinois that La Salle was their enemy, 
 an Iroquois spy, soon to be followed by the Iroquois themselves 
 in all their blood-thirstiness. After this speech he disappeared 
 in the forest. In the morning La Salle noticed the change in 
 his hosts. Distrust and malignity were depicted on every 
 savage face. Adroitly learning the facts from an Indian to whom 
 he had given a hatchet, he made a bold speech, denying the 
 slander, and challenging them to set him face to face with his 
 traducer. The speech restored general confidence. If oratory 
 is the art of persuading men and swaying an audience, La 
 Salle was a great orator. 
 
 One morning, La Salle found six of his men, including two 
 of his best shipbuilders, had deserted. It cut him to the 
 quick. But this was not all. A treacherous hand again placed 
 poison in his food. His life hung in the balance for hours, but 
 an antidote given by the faithful Tonty turned the wavering 
 scale. Worse than all, it was evident that the Griffin , the main 
 stay of the whole enterprise, was lost. Nothing was ever heard 
 of her again. Two men sent to search for her, reported that 
 they had made the circuit of the lakes and found her not. La 
 Salle afterwards found evidence of her having been deliberately 
 sunk by the pilot, at the instance of his enemies. The loss of 
 the Griffin was the severest blow yet. She carried anchors, 
 cables, and equipment for the new boat he was to build on the 
 Mississippi, as well as costly supplies. The mountain of dis 
 asters was enough to break a heart of stone. 
 
 Did La Salle give up ? No ! He mocked at despair, and 
 instead of yielding, built a strong permanent fort, which he 
 called Fort Orevecoeur, or "Broken-hearted," in very irony at 
 his misfortunes. He also commenced the great task of building 
 
92 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a forty-ton ship for the river. Trees had to be felled and 
 laboriously sawed into plank by hand. Yet in six weeks the 
 hull was completed by men who were not carpenters. La Salle 
 induced Father Hennepin to give up his preaching, and render 
 some reluctant service by exploring the Illinois River to its 
 mouth. Hennepin, who was a great boaster but poor worker, 
 tried to shirk the enterprise, but at last, with two companions 
 and a canoe well filled with hatchets, beads, and other presents 
 for the Indians, supplied at La Salle's own cost, started on 
 his trip. He descended the Illinois to its mouth, and then 
 ascended the Mississippi, was taken prisoner by the Sioux, and 
 after many adventures made his way back to Montreal, and 
 thence to Europe. He at once published an account of his 
 travels, laying no claim to having discovered the mouth of the 
 Mississippi. Fifteen years later, La Salle being long since 
 dead, Hennepin rivaled our friend Captain John Smith by pub 
 lishing a new story of his travels, in which he claims to have 
 traversed the entire Mississippi, and thus anticipated La Salle 
 in his chief work. The falsehoods and exaggerations of the 
 book have long since been exposed. 
 
 La Salle's exploration could advance no farther until the 
 precious articles for the new ship, lost in the Griffin, could be 
 replaced. The expedition was eating itself up with expense. 
 Its chief determined to make his way on foot through the vast 
 and gloomy wildernesses which lay between him and Montreal, 
 in one last effort to replace the loss. It was equal to one of 
 the labors of Hercules a journey of twelve hundred miles, 
 through a country which was the perpetual battle-ground of 
 hostile and cruel savages, without food, sleeping on the open 
 ground, watching by night and marching by day, carrying a 
 heavy load of blanket, gun, ammunition, hatchet, kettle, and 
 a sack of parched corn. Sometimes pushing through thickets, 
 sometimes climbing rocks covered with ice and snow, with 
 clothing constantly wet from swimming a dozen rivers a day, 
 and wading for hours at a time waist or even neck deep in 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 93 
 
 marshes, exposed continually to attack from ravenous beasts, 
 and to a thousand other hardships, toils, and dangers. In all 
 the journey there was not a gleam of light from a single cabin 
 window to welcome the weary travelers at night-fall, not a 
 white man's face to cheer them amid the frightful and gloomy 
 solitudes of unending forests. 
 
 La Salle's companions were a Mohegan hunter, who had 
 followed him with ceaseless fidelity, and four Frenchmen. Two 
 of the latter left the party at the point nearest Michillimackinac. 
 The terrible exposures impaired the health of the party. The 
 Mohegan and one Frenchmen were taken ill, and were spitting 
 blood. This left La Salle and one man in health. They had 
 to provide for the additional burden of the sick men. 
 
 But we may not linger over the tragic story. After sixty- 
 five days of unparalleled sufferings, the stone bastions of Fort 
 Frontenac rose before their weary eyes. The unconquerable will 
 and iron frame of La Salle, who had been reared in delicate 
 luxury, a scholar, whose career had been marked out to be that 
 of a gentle parish priest for some rural flock in France, had 
 achieved the impossible. 
 
 Poor La Salle had reached his goal, but his long journey 
 had but brought him to new grief. It is almost too cruel to 
 record. Within a week he had, by extraordinary effort, in 
 spite of his bankruptcy and misfortunes, collected the needed 
 supplies. He was on the point of setting out on the return 
 trip to his forlorn colony on the Illinois, when two messengers 
 from Fort Crevecoeur arrived with a letter from Tonty. He 
 reported to his stricken chief that, after his departure, the men 
 had mutinied, blown up the fort, plundered its stores, throwing 
 into the river all they could not carry off, and then deserted. 
 All was lost. His mighty effort was spent. Yet he gave not an 
 hour to his grief. Whatever was the inward conflict, no human 
 eye could pierce beneath the iron mask of his features. He 
 chose nine trusty and well-armed men and went to meet the 
 mutineers. Two canoes surrendered at once. The third showed 
 
94 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 fight. Two of the villains were killed. The remainder were 
 safely lodged in the dungeon of the fort, to await the coming 
 of Count Frontenac. La Salle's enemies used the killing of the 
 two mutineers as a basis for a charge of murder. 
 
 After all his toil, the mighty dream of the interior empire 
 seemed wrecked forever. But La Salle was incapable of retreat. 
 He seemed impelled by an inward force, as resistless as his fate 
 was remorseless. On the 10th of August, 1680, he embarked 
 again with his succor for Tonty. If the latter could keep his 
 foothold on the Illinois, success might yet be wrested from 
 adversity. Through Lakes Ontario, Erie, Huron, and Michigan, 
 up the St. Joseph River, and down the Kankakee, he once 
 more took his way. At every step he found the Indians 
 prejudiced against him by the Jesuits. 
 
 When, at last, they drew near the meadows on which had 
 stood the great village of the Illinois, with its population of 
 eight thousand souls, their horror-stricken gaze met a scene of 
 utter desolation. Where once was heard the busy hum of 
 human life, no sound, save their own footsteps, broke a silence 
 as of the grave. The plain was covered with heaps of ashes 
 and charred poles. Hundreds of human bodies, hideous souve 
 nirs of battle, half-eaten by wolves and birds of prey, filled the 
 air with pollution. With but one thought, La Salle searched 
 the blackened and bloody field of death, with sleepless anxiety, 
 for traces of the fate of Tonty. That the Iroquois had wrought 
 the work of ruin was clear. That Tonty had been burned 
 alive, or taken prisoner, he thought he read in some charcoal 
 drawings on some stakes. Taking four men with him, La Salle 
 pushed on to Fort Crevecoeur. Hope was dead in his breast, 
 and dark despair floated on raven plume, like a bird of ill-omen, 
 in ever-narrowing circles above his dauntless form. 
 
 The fort was destroyed. On the stocks stood the hull of 
 the half-finished vessel, with every nail and spike withdrawn. 
 In charcoal letters La Salle read, " Nous sommes tons sauvages : 
 ce 15, 1680," inscription by the mutineers. Even here he found 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 95 
 
 bodies lashed to stakes and half-consumed by the torturing 
 flames. Down the Illinois he floated, till he saw before his 
 eyes the mighty river of the Mississippi. It was the source 
 and object of all his vast ambitions and incomparable efforts. 
 But its charms were unheeded by his anxious eye. No trace 
 of Tonty could be found. 
 
 Tonty, after the mutiny, lived in the Illinois village, a weak, 
 one-handed soldier of fortune, yet, withal, a courtly gentleman, 
 amid his savage companions; one who would have graced any 
 court in Europe. One evening word was brought that the Iro- 
 quois were coming. The same messenger said La Salle was with 
 them; hence, Tonty must be a traitor. The excited savages 
 threw his precious forge and tools into the river. He was in 
 the utmost peril. All night the warriors sang, danced, painted 
 their bodies, and worked themselves into a frenzy to raise their 
 courage. Tonty resorted to a desperate expedient. He went 
 unarmed into the Iroquois camp, bearing a belt of wampum. 
 
 By exaggerating the numbers of the Illinois and threat 
 ening future vengeance from the French, he patched up a peace. 
 Scarcely was it made before being broken. In six days the 
 Iroquois chieftains summoned Tonty to meet them. An orator 
 presented him with six packs of beaver skins. The first two, 
 he said, signified that the children of Frontenac, that is, the 
 Illinois, should not be eaten ; the next was a plaster to heal 
 Tonty's wound ; the next was oil to anoint himself, that he 
 might not be fatigued in traveling ; the fifth signified that the 
 sun was bright; the sixth required him to pack up and go back 
 to Canada forthwith. Sadly he called his five faithful compan 
 ions together and started on foot for Green Bay Mission. 
 
 La Salle, failing to find his friend, retraced his steps to the 
 fort on the St. Joseph River. Here he located for the winter. 
 Instead of being crushed by the cruel aggregation of disasters 
 and defeats, he modified his plans and mapped out in his own 
 secretive mind a new plan for the pursuit of the great enter 
 prise, from which he never took his eye. His notion was to 
 
96 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 induce the Western tribes of Indians to unite in a defensive 
 league against the Iroquois, with himself at its head. He 
 worked incessantly, traveling far and near. As has been said, 
 he was a great orator with the Indians. He punctuated his 
 sentences with presents of hatchets and kettles, and emphasized 
 his words with red blankets. Such eloquence was irresistible. 
 Besides, the Indian knows a hero by instinct. He recognizes a 
 true leader at sight. Everywhere the Indians from innumer 
 able tribes lent their aid to the enterprise. La Salle was to 
 protect them against the Iroquois, and French traders were to 
 bring to them all the articles they needed, in ships which would 
 sail up the Mississippi. 
 
 Things looked promising. To discover the mouth of the 
 Mississippi was of the first importance. For this a trip to Can 
 ada was again necessary. On his way back, La Salle, to his 
 infinite joy, found Tonty at Michillimackinac. Each told his 
 tale of disaster. The new scheme and its signs of promise 
 were laid before Tonty. Arrived at Montreal, La Salle made a 
 last effort to appease his creditors and procure a new equipment. 
 Once more he set out for the Illinois, by the same dreary route, 
 so 'full of suggestions of wasted wealth, disappointed ambitions, 
 and fruitless toil. The past was a failure. Would the future 
 prove brighter? 
 
 The plan of building a large vessel for the journey down 
 the Mississippi, if consummated, would have enabled La Salle to 
 gather quantities of furs, and pay the cost of the expedition. 
 Disaster had forced him to abandon the plan and the trip was 
 made in canoes. The Indians along the river proved to be 
 friendly, intelligent, and polite. Concerning the Arkansas tribe, 
 one of the party writes : " They are gay, civil, and free-hearted. 
 The young men, though alert and spirited, are so modest that 
 not one of them would take the liberty to enter our hut, but all 
 stood quietly at the door. We greatly admired their form and 
 beauty. We did not lose the value of a pin while among them." 
 At the principal town of the Taensas, the travelers were dum- 
 
LA SALLE PROCLAIMING THE FRENCH EMPIRE IN AMERICA. 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 99 
 
 founded to find large square dwellings, built of mud, straw, and 
 cane, arched over with dome-shaped roofs. 
 
 In one of these buildings, in a room forty feet square, sat 
 the king on a chair of state ; three wives were at his side, and 
 ranged around him sat sixty old men, wrapped in white cloaks, 
 woven of mulberry bark. When he spoke his wives howled. 
 His death would be celebrated with the death of one hundred 
 victims. Another building formed the temple. In the center 
 was an altar on which burned a perpetual fire. Around the 
 room were ranged long rows of grinning skulls from the victims 
 sacrificed to the Sun. The king was frightfully solemn. No 
 smile had ever flitted across his cast-iron countenance. But if 
 he failed to appreciate a joke, he liked presents and visited La 
 Salle at his camp. On this important occasion the solemn old 
 savage advanced in his white robes, preceded by two men with 
 large white fans, while a third bore an enormous disc of burn 
 ished copper, representing the Sun, which was the king's ances 
 tor. At each spot that he visited, La Salle erected a cross with 
 the arms of France, as an emblem of her dominion. 
 
 On the 6th of April they reached a point where the river 
 divided into three channels. It was the Delta. It was not 
 long till the heavy current bore the voyagers out into the 
 lonely gulf. For a thousand years its tossing waves had in 
 that mighty solitude striven to rise above themselves ; for a 
 thousand years they had fallen back, broken and sullen, to 
 their own level fit emblems of human ambition. Gathering 
 on the shore, the little group of weather-beaten men erected a 
 column and a cross, with the insignia of the French people. 
 Then La Salle proclaimed aloud the French dominion. 
 
 " On that day," says Francis Parkman, " the realm of France 
 received on parchment a stupendous accession. The fertile 
 plains of Texas; the vast basin of the Mississippi, from its 
 frozen northern springs to the sultry borders of the gulf; 
 from the woody ridges of the Alleghanies to the bare peaks of 
 
 the Rocky Mountains a region of savannahs and forests, sun- 
 6 
 
100 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 cracked deserts, and grassy prairies, watered by a thousand 
 rivers, ranged by a thousand warlike tribes, passed beneath the 
 scepter of the sultan of Versailles; and all by virtue of a 
 feeble human voice inaudible at half a mile." 
 
 The new domain was called Louisiana, in honor of its king. 
 Henceforth the name of La Salle was a part of history. But 
 his labors were only begun. Impatiently he urged his little 
 fleet of canoes upward against the heavy current. His way 
 seemed clear now for the execution of his original plan, to 
 abandon the difficult and roundabout route through frozen 
 Canada, the great lakes and the Kankakee swamps, to plant 
 a fort at the mouth of the Mississippi, and thus monopolize the 
 magnificent natural pathway to the interior of the continent. 
 On his way back, La Salle was stricken down with a deadly 
 fever. Against this foe his stubborn will was powerless. He 
 could not. proceed to Canada to announce his discovery, nor to 
 France to raise means for carrying out his splendid plans, nor 
 even to the Illinois to commence his fort. While La Salle lay 
 in a hut on the banks of the Mississippi, the fever of ambition 
 and impatience uniting with that of disease, Tonty pressed on 
 to Canada with the glorious news of the discovery. 
 
 By December Tonty and La Salle were once more together 
 on the Illinois River, busy with perfecting the great Indian 
 league. Overhanging the river, La Salle had previously noticed 
 a great rock, one hundred and twenty-five feet high, inaccessible 
 on all sides except by a difficult footpath in the rear. Its top 
 was about an acre in extent. This rock, properly fortified, 
 could be defended by a score of men against hosts of savages. 
 It is now called "Starved Rock." It is six miles below the 
 town of Ottawa, Illinois. On the top of this rock La Salle 
 and Tonty made a clearing, and built a palisade, lodges, store 
 houses. It was named Fort St. Louis. 
 
 The league grew and strengthened. Every day brought 
 re-enforcements. Around the fort a hundred tribes took up their 
 dwelling, inspired with the idea of being protected by La Salle 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 101 
 
 from the terrible Iroquois. They came from the Kankakee, 
 from the Ohio, even from Maine. Among the promiscuous 
 throng of lodges were those of some discomfited warriors of 
 Philip of Mount Hope, who had for a while spread terror and 
 despair through the Puritan settlements of New England. La 
 Salle's diplomacy had achieved a wonderful success. Twenty 
 thousand savages plante'd their wigwams upon the plains, over 
 which he looked from his castle in the air. 
 
 Of all men the Indian is the most unstable. La Salle under 
 stood the Indian character thoroughly. His mushroom colony 
 could only live by his fulfilling his promises to protect it from 
 the Iroquois, and bring Frenchmen to exchange commodities 
 for their furs. To achieve these things he needed help. Fron- 
 tenac was no longer governor of Canada. His successor, La 
 Barre, belonged to the political faction composed of La Salle's 
 enemies. These last were not asleep. The news of his dis 
 covery and his mammoth Indian town teased their jealousy 
 and hate into a perfect frenzy. Their emissaries worked inces 
 santly to induce the Iroquois to make war and destroy La Salle, 
 who, they said, was combining the western Indians against the 
 Five Nations. On the other hand, they spread rumors through 
 the excitable throngs around Fort St. Louis that La Salle was 
 keeping them there for the Iroquois to destroy them all at 
 once. Reports were frequent that the Iroquois were coming. 
 
 La Salle's situation was full of peril. He dared not leave 
 Fort St. Louis to carry out his plans for traffic on the Missis 
 sippi, for if an attack should be made in his absence he would 
 be denounced as the instigator of the Iroquois war. Yet the 
 necessity for his departure grew stronger each day. No one 
 but he could arrange to build the fort at the mouth of the 
 Mississippi, and bring vessels from France laden with articles 
 of traffic for his savage allies. To meet the emergency, he sent 
 letters to France, imploring assistance. They were never heard 
 from. He begged La Barre to send him supplies and re-enforce 
 ments. No answers were ever received. He weakened his 
 
102 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 little colony by sending messengers to Montreal to procure 
 supplies and bring them by canoes. The messengers were 
 plundered of their cargoes by the Canadian governor and 
 thrown into prison. La Salle, in the depths of the wilderness, 
 was unaware of the governor's enmity. Again and again he 
 wrote, describing the situation, and imploring that bis men 
 might be allowed to return with supplies. The only response 
 was angry letters from his creditors, accusing him of every 
 crime under heaven. There remained but a hundred pounds of 
 powder in the fort. Should the Iroquois come, strong resistance 
 was impossible. 
 
 On receipt of La Salle's letters, La Barre wrote to the 
 government of France that La Salle was a crack-brained adven 
 turer, bent on involving the Canadian colonies in a war with 
 the Iroquois ; that he had set himself up as king ; that he had 
 robbed his creditors only to waste the ill-gotten gain in riotous 
 living and in debauching the Indians ; that so far from serving 
 the king, his sole object was private gain. These slanders 
 reached the mark. The king wrote back that " the discovery 
 of La Salle is utterly useless, and such enterprises should, in 
 the future, be prevented." What a prophet was Louis XIV 
 concerning the future of America ! Had he but known bet 
 ter, his " New " France was most speedily to far surpass his 
 " Old " France. La Barre, emboldened by the king's letter, 
 seized all of La Salle's property, declared his privileges for 
 feited, and dispatched an officer to supersede him at Fort 
 St. Louis. He found only Tonty. La Salle had started for 
 France. 
 
 It was an opportune moment for La Salle when he appeared 
 before the gold and ivory chair of state in which sat the small 
 specimen of humanity, in high-heeled shoes and gaudy attire, 
 who represented the sovereignty of France. A war with Spain 
 was in progress. La Salle was smart. His great object was 
 to get a fort and colony on the Mississippi. Instead of dwell 
 ing on its use in controlling and developing traffic with the vast 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 103 
 
 interior, he held out the more glittering, but far less substantial, 
 allurement that such a fort would be a basis for a descent on 
 Mexico and the Spanish dominion. His geographical notions 
 were wrong. Mexico was much farther off than he thought. 
 But the king knew no better. The idea of wresting Mexico, 
 with its rich mines of silver and gold from the indolent Span 
 iards who guarded it, caught his eye. Feeling exerts a power 
 ful influence on conduct. He hated Spain. Any plan to hurt 
 her was grateful to him. 
 
 So La Salle was granted more than he asked. La Forest, 
 La Salle's lieutenant, was dispatched to Canada with a royal 
 reprimand for La Barre. He w r as also to resume possession 
 of Fort Frontenac and Fort St. Louis. He was further ordered 
 to march the four thousand warriors at the latter place, to the 
 mouth of the Mississippi, to co-operate with La Salle in an 
 invasion of Mexico. When his lieutenant received this latter 
 order from La Salle, the latter must have nearly burst with 
 inward laughter. It is the solitary joke in his stern career. 
 It gives him a rank among the funny men of all ages. Gulli 
 ver's exploits are nothing in comparison with marching four 
 thousand wild Indians, as unstable as water, belonging to a hun 
 dred wandering tribes, two thousand miles from their hunting- 
 grounds; their women and children left behind at the mercy 
 of savage foes ; their numbers so great that, without any pro 
 vision for supplies, they must starve on the way ; with no arms 
 but bows and arrows, and no object but to invade a country of 
 which they had never heard. But the wise simpleton of Ver 
 sailles saw nothing of the joke. What could be more natural ? 
 The idea delighted him. He gave La Salle four ships instead 
 of one. Of these the Joly was the largest. 
 
 A hundred soldiers, thirty gentlemen, a number of mechan 
 ics, besides the wives of some and a few girls who saw a cer 
 tain prospect of matrimony, embarked on this last expedition 
 of Robert Cavalier De La Salle. The command was divided. 
 Beaujeu, a high-tempered, but old and experienced naval officer, 
 
104 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 was to command the ships at sea; La Salle was to have entire 
 control on land. This two-headed arrangement gave rise to no 
 end of trouble. La Salle, always suspicious and secretive, 
 found out that Beaujeu's wife was devoted to the Jesuits. 
 His cold, impenetrable manner, confiding in none, counseling 
 with none, haughty and reserved, would have exasperated a 
 far less testy and excitable man than old Beaujeu. As it 
 was, La Salle's colleague sputtered over with fury. Before 
 they were out of the harbor, La Salle believed that Beaujeu 
 was a traitor, in connivance with his enemies to ruin the expe 
 dition. Old Beaujeu, on his part, was furious that he, an 
 experienced naval officer of high rank, should divide command 
 with a man " who has no experience of war except with sav 
 ages, who has no rank, and never commanded any body but school 
 boys " a thrust at La Salle's school-teaching days, when he was 
 with the Jesuits. Beaujeu wrote letters continually to the 
 government, complaining of his ignominy. To these ebullitions 
 of age, vanity, and temper the answers were curt enough. 
 
 The two leaders quarreled about the stowage of the cargo, 
 about the amount of provision to be taken on board, about the 
 destination of the expedition. Beaujeu believed that La Salle 
 was not a sane man. It is not impossible that his terrible 
 exposures and sufferings, his ceaseless struggles with his cred 
 itors and enemies, his crushing disappointments had affected 
 the poise of La Salle's mind. His universal distrust included 
 even the faithful Tonty. On July 24, 1684, the little fleet 
 spread its canvas. On the fourth day out the Joly broke 
 a bowsprit. La Salle believed it to have happened by design. 
 The ships put back to Rochelle to repair the damage. 
 
 The wretched voyage lasted two months. La Salle was in 
 miserable health. The disagreements between him and Beau 
 jeu grew continually worse. La Salle desired to put in at Port 
 de Paix. Here he was to receive supplies and information from 
 the French governor, w r ho had orders to render all possible assist 
 ance to the expedition. Beaujeu, boiling with rage, managed to 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 105 
 
 run by the place at night and insisted on landing at a different 
 place, Petit Gouare. No supplies were to be had here. Many 
 of the men were sick from the intense heat and close confinement 
 on shipboard. The smallest vessel, the one laden with stores, 
 tools, and ammunition, had fallen behind. Two days* passed, and 
 instead of* her arrival, word was brought that she had been cap 
 tured by pirates. The blow w r as terrific, and could not have 
 fallen, had Beaujeu put in at Port de Paix. La Salle, eaten 
 up with anxiety, became dangerously ill and delirious. In the 
 extremity, Joutel, a gardener, who had joined the expedition, 
 was his main reliance, and continued so till the end. He became 
 the historian of the enterprise. While lying at this port, freed 
 from the restraint of their leader's eye, the men engaged in the 
 worst debauchery, contracting diseases which brought many to 
 their graves. 
 
 The captain of the Aimable gave La Salle great uneasiness. 
 To prevent treachery, he went on board the vessel himself. It 
 was near New Year's, when, having entered the Gulf of Mexico, 
 they discovered land. Every eye was strained to detect the 
 mouth of the great river. 
 
 At this point La Salle committed a fatal blunder. Having 
 heard that the currents of the gulf set strongly to the eastward, 
 he supposed he had not reached the Mississippi. In fact he had 
 passed it. Day after day they sailed slowly to the west. No 
 sign of the river appeared. A halt was called. The weather 
 was stormy ; the coast unknown and dangerous. The men were 
 rapidly consuming the provisions. Beaujeu was irritable. Joutel 
 says La Salle requested him to sail back in search of the river 
 and that the naval commander refused to do it. Impatient of the 
 restraint and anxious to assume the sole command, La Salle deter 
 mined to land his soldiers on the swampy shores and send them 
 to search for the river by land. Joutel was placed in command. 
 For three days the detachment pushed their way north 
 eastward through tropical forests and across lagoons. The men 
 were constructing a raft to cross Matagorda Bay, when they dis- 
 
106 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 covered the ships which had been following along the coast. 
 La Salle came ashore, and announced that this was the western 
 mouth of the Mississippi. He ordered the ships to enter the 
 narrow harbor. The Aimable came first. La Salle was watch 
 ing her. Suddenly some men came running in from the forest 
 reporting that two of their number had been carried off by the 
 Indians. La Salle ordered instant pursuit. With a last anxious 
 look at the Aimable, which was steering in the wrong direction 
 to be safe, he started after the Indians. He had just come in 
 sight of them when the report of a cannon was heard from the 
 bay. The savages fell prostrate with fright. But the chill of 
 a more deadly fear froze the blood in La Salle's veins. The 
 gun was a signal of distress. The Aimable ', with her cargo of 
 stores and utensils for the colony, had struck the cruel reef. 
 
 Securing his men from the Indians, La Salle hastened back 
 to the scene of either accident or treachery to save, if possible, 
 the cargo. The small boat of the vessel was found to have been 
 staved in. This looked suspicious and caused delay. A boat 
 was sent from the Joly. Some gunpowder and flour had been 
 landed, when the wind rose. The breakers came rolling in, 
 lifting the doomed vessel and hurling her, again and again, upon 
 the rocks. The greedy waves were strewn with her treasures. 
 
 La Salle's heart must have been broken. The circumstantial 
 evidence that the captain of the Aimable had wrecked his vessel 
 on purpose was of the strongest character. The wretched com 
 pany encamped near the wreck behind a rough pile of boxes, 
 bales, driftwood, and spars. The Indians were unmistakably 
 hostile. They plundered the camp, fired the woods, and even 
 killed two men. The colonists were nearly all sick. Five or 
 six were dying every day. Beaujeu having accomplished his 
 mission and landed La Salle at what he declared was the mouth 
 of the Mississippi, set sail for France. Toward the last, the 
 testy old sea-captain sympathized with La Salle. He, at least, 
 had not proved treacherous, and they parted friends. The col 
 onists were left to their misery. It is to be remembered that 
 

CAMP OF LA SAUvE NEAR MATAGORDA 3AY 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 109 
 
 in the unhappy company were women and girls. The colony 
 lived in constant fear of the Spanish, who were patrolling the 
 gulf in search of them. Two of the men deserted. Another 
 was hung for crime. One of the best of the company was 
 bitten by a snake and died. 
 
 The most serious thing, however, which befell the colony 
 was the discovery by La Salle that he was not at the mouth 
 of the Mississippi. He knew not where he was, only not on 
 the river which was the source and object of all his Titanic 
 toil. Unless the river could be found, and that speedily, his 
 mighty undertaking was utterly and forever ruined. If it could 
 be found, a good fort built, and communications established with 
 Fort St. Louis, on the Illinois, something might yet be accom 
 plished. Unless this was done, La Salle felt that all his Her 
 culean labors were wasted, his life a ruin, and his dream of 
 empire a bitter folly. 
 
 The future was as black as midnight. A single star beam 
 shone through the darkness. The little frigate Belle, a gift from 
 the king to La Salle, was still safe. If the Mississippi could be 
 found, this vessel might convey the colony and such stores as 
 they had left to its banks. A spot was sought where protection 
 could be had from the scorching sun. The industrious toiled. 
 The friars got out their battered altar and crosses. A fort 
 was built. The stoutest sank under this labor. Numbers also 
 were being slowly consumed by diseases brought with them. 
 La Salle's company was not the "flower of France." Many 
 of his men had been professional street beggars. On the walls 
 of the new " Fort St. Louis," as La Salle called it, were planted 
 eight cannon. In the absence of balls, they were loaded with 
 stones and bags of bullets. 
 
 When the wretched colonists were thus located, La Salle 
 started on a journey of exploration. He was still dauntless, 
 self-contained, energetic. His mighty sorrows may have shat 
 tered him. In his extremity his fierce temper only became 
 more fractious, his suspicion more dark. He treated his men 
 
110 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 with more and more rigor and hauteur. He kept his own 
 counsel more obstinately than ever. He was made of iron. 
 He bent not one inch to the storm. His invincible intellect 
 refused to bow to defeat. It insulted Fate, and hurled defiance 
 at all the powers of destiny and hell. 
 
 The day of his departure was the last of October, 1685. 
 His brother, Abbe Cavalier, just recovered from a long illness, 
 accompanied him with fifty men. It was March before they 
 returned. They told a tale of suffering and disappointment. 
 Some of the men had deserted, some were drowned, some snake 
 bitten, some killed by Indians. The Mississippi had not been 
 found. This was not the worst. The Belle had been ordered 
 to follow them along the coast. At a certain point in the 
 journey La Salle lost sight of her. Men were sent to search. 
 They brought back no tidings. The day after La Salle reached 
 the fort the last one of these detachments arrived. They had 
 been more successful. The pilot of the Belle, while on shore, 
 had been killed by Indians. Soon after this the crew got drunk. 
 A wind arose ; the vessel was clumsily handled ; in five minutes 
 all that was left of her was a mass of spars and splinters hang 
 ing on the rock-bound coast. 
 
 In all his troubled career, the unfortunate La Salle had never 
 met with a disaster so utterly overwhelming and irretrievable as 
 this. With the loss of the Belle was lost the only means of 
 returning to France, or of planting a colony on the Mississippi. 
 
 There was no longer any use to hunt for the river. If it 
 were found the colony could never get there. To transport their 
 cannon, forges, tools, and stores by land was preposterous. A 
 man could not carry enough food to take him half-way. La Salle 
 broke down. He was taken with another terrible attack of fever. 
 
 For months he fought this foe as he had every other. His 
 sublime will rose superior to difficulty. His mind once more 
 cleared. He determined to make his way to the Mississippi, 
 force his canoe upward against its current to the Illinois; thence 
 from Fort St. Louis again to Canada and to France, where he 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE, 111 
 
 would obtain succor. It was a journey of seven thousand 
 miles. The imagination fails to compass the immensity of the 
 undertaking. It surpassed the labors of Hercules. 
 
 One April day, after mass and prayer, a little handful of 
 men, with hatchets, kettles, guns, corn, and presents for the 
 Indians, strapped to their backs, set out over the prairie on the 
 mighty undertaking. La Salle alone knew its extent. He kept 
 the secret locked in his own breast, or not a man would Jiave 
 accompanied him. The trusty Joutel remained in command at the 
 fort. The strictest discipline was enforced. This was to divert 
 the minds of the colonists from their terrible situation. Every 
 one was compelled to work. Joutel says: "We did what we 
 could to amuse ourselves, and drive away care. I encouraged 
 our people to dance and sing in the evenings, for when M. de 
 La Salle was among us pleasure was often banished. I tried to 
 keep the people as busy as possible. I set them to making a 
 small cellar to keep meat fresh in hot weather; but when M. de 
 La Salle came back he said it was too small. As he always 
 wanted to do every thing on a large scale, he prepared to make 
 a large one, and marked out the plan." Like poor La Salle's 
 other plans, the one for this cellar proved too large to be prac 
 ticable. So it was never built at all. 
 
 The situation of the colonists was practically hopeless. 
 There was not one chance in a thousand that La Salle 'could 
 really make his way across the wilderness of a continent inhab 
 ited by sleepless and bloodthirsty savages, to Montreal, and 
 thence to France. Even if he reached France, from what 
 resources could the disappointed and ruined adventurer draw 
 the large sums necessary to equip a vessel and conie to their 
 relief? It was now nearly two years since they left Rochelle. 
 La Salle had promised to conquer Mexico in a year! Yet La 
 Salle's trip to France was their only hope. Located at the 
 mouth of a Texan river, no ship would ever pass that way, 
 unless some Spanish cruiser, seeking whom it might destroy. 
 
 Still, that the colonists were not overwhelmed with despair, 
 
112 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 is shown by one Barbiers, who asked leave to marry one of the 
 girls. Joutel held a solemn consultation with the friars, and the 
 two lovers were united. Shortly afterward a marquis begged 
 the same privilege concerning another girl. Joutel, the young 
 gardener, concerned at such an abasement of nobility, refused, 
 and deprived the lovers of all communication with each other. 
 Meanwhile great discontent became manifest. Duhant, the 
 greatest villain in the company, declared that La Salle had left 
 them to their fate, and would never return. 
 
 One night a knocking was heard at the gate. It was La 
 Salle. Out of twenty men only eight had lived to return. 
 They had journeyed far, incurring almost every peril and dis 
 aster of which one can conceive. At last La Salle took sick. 
 This delayed them two months, and by exhausting their 
 ammunition and strength, forced them to return to the fort. 
 The colonists, of whom only forty-five remained, murmured 
 loudly. La Salle had a heavy task to make them contented 
 with the dreary weather-beaten palisade and fort. He was 
 about to renew his effort to reach Canada, when he was 
 attacked with hernia. His constitution seemed badly shattered. 
 
 It was in January, 1687, before the start could be made. 
 Joutel this time was to accompany his chief. La Salle made a 
 farewell address, in an unusually kind, winning and hopeful 
 manner. With heavy hearts, both of those going and those 
 remaining, the little band took up its slow march, followed by 
 straining eyes, until it disappeared from view forever. The 
 company was full of discord. Liotal, the surgeon, had sworn 
 revenge on La Salle for having on one occasion sent his brother 
 on a trip, during which he was killed by Indians. Duhaut had 
 long hated La Salle, and both men alike despised Moranget, 
 La Salle's nephew. Several quarrels took place. One day 
 Duhaut, Liotal, Hiens, a buccaneer, Teissier, FArcheveque, and 
 Nika and Saget, two Indian servants of La Salle, were out 
 hunting buffalo. Having killed some, they sent word to the 
 camp. Moranget and DeMarle were dispatched with horses, 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 113 
 
 which had been bought of Indians, to bring in the meat. When 
 Moranget arrived he abused the men violently because the 
 meat was not smoked properly, and quarreled fiercely with 
 Duhaut because he claimed the marrow bones. Moranget 
 ended by seizing them. 
 
 It was too much. The men who might in France have lived 
 and died respected citizens, embittered by disappointment, and 
 crushed by disaster, were no longer men. They were wild 
 beasts. That evening Duhaut and Liotal took counsel with 
 Hiens, Teissier, and I'Archeveque. A bloody plot was laid. 
 The supper over, the pipes smoked, each man rolled himself in 
 his blanket. Then the conspirators arose. Duhaut and Hiens 
 stood with guns cocked, to shoot any who might resist. The 
 surgeon stole forward, and, with hurried blows from an axe, 
 clove the skulls of the sleeping Moranget, Nika, and Saget, the 
 nephew, the friend, and the servant of La Salle. 
 
 It was quickly done. Their victims lay weltering in pools 
 of blood, while the night wind sighed through the lonely forest. 
 The red demon of murder, which had entered the hearts of the 
 conspirators, pointed with bloody finger at La Salle, six miles 
 away. Hatred and self-preservation alike demanded his death. 
 
 That evening Moranget had not returned, and La Salle 
 seemed to have a presentiment of evil. He questioned Joutel 
 closely as to whether Duhaut had any bad designs. Joutel 
 knew nothing except that he had complained about being found 
 fault with so much. La Salle passed an uneasy night. In the 
 morning he borrowed the best gun in the party, and taking a 
 friar for a companion and an Indian for his guide, started in 
 search of the missing men. As he walked, he talked with the 
 good friar, only "of piety, grace, and predestination; enlarging 
 on the debt he owed God, who had saved him from so many 
 perils, during more than twenty years of travel in America." 
 "Suddenly," says the friar, "I saw him overwhelmed with a 
 profound sadness, for which himself Could not account. He 
 was so moved I scarcely knew him." His approach was 
 
114 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 perceived by the murderers. Duhaut and the surgeon, crouched 
 in the long grass, with guns cocked. L'Archeveque remained in 
 sight. La Salle called to him, asking where was Moranget. 
 The man replied in a tone agitated but insolent, that he was 
 strolling around somewhere. La Salle rebuked him, and con 
 tinued to advance. At that moment two shots were fired from 
 the grass, and the great La Salle, the hero of a thousand 
 exploits, dropped dead with a bullet in his brain. 
 
 The toiler had found rest at last. The toilworn body was 
 rudely thrown into the bushes, and became the food of vultures 
 and of wolves. 
 
 Thus, at forty-three years of age, fell one of the greatest 
 explorers of all time. That he had grave faults is most true. 
 He was often impractical. His movements seem sometimes the 
 result of hasty and inconsiderate resolve. His fierce temper, 
 and gloomy, unsocial nature brought on him the dislike of his 
 men. He attempted too much. Yet, it is clear that he far 
 surpassed his age in his foresight of the future of the Mis 
 sissippi valley. His dream of the interior empire was to what 
 has really come to pass, as the first faint blush of dawn in 
 eastern skies is to the blazing radiance of noon. If his material 
 resources were too small for his vast undertaking, he possessed 
 a will like that of* a god. The vast and continuous stream 
 of energy, proceeding for twenty years from the brain of La 
 Salle, was superhuman. His sensibilities were weak or wholly 
 wanting. His intellect and will place his name above that of 
 every other explorer. 
 
 It is impossible to find anywhere an equal for La Salle's 
 undertakings and efforts, his sufferings and toils. Yet for it all 
 he received no reward save the bullet of an assassin. Like 
 many another hero, La Salle was ignored and cast out by man 
 kind. Unfortunate in life, he was still unfortunate in death. 
 His countless throng of enemies each made a stab at his mem 
 ory. The only thing we, who enjoy the fruits of his terrific 
 toil, can do for La Salle, is to accord him the praise of history. 
 

 
 MURDER OF LA SALLE IN TEXAS. 
 
THE TRIALS OF LA SALLE. 117 
 
 We have said he was one of history's loneliest characters. It 
 is true. He was and is a solitary of the solitaries. In life his 
 lonely, retiring, secretive nature forced him, as he himself said, 
 to abandon various employments in which, without it, he would 
 have succeeded, and to choose a life more suited to his solitary 
 disposition. We see him driven to the wilderness by his own 
 solitariness. Still he was not enough alone. He shut out from 
 his confidence even the handful of men with whom he traversed 
 the silent and uninhabited forests of America. His was the 
 solitude of genius. " Buzzing insects fly in swarms ; the lion 
 stalks alone." He was separated from his nearest friend by 
 fathomless abysses. Solitary in life, he is also solitary in his 
 tory. He can not be classed with nor compared to any other. 
 His name is a star which belongs to no constellation. The 
 Chevalier de La Salle is like no one but himself. His very 
 greatness makes it so. 
 
 After the murders, Joutel, and one or two companions, who 
 had been faithful to their leader, expected nothing but death. 
 The conspirators would never allow the witnesses of their crime 
 to reach the settlements alive. But the way was strangely 
 cleared. The murderers fell out among themselves, and Hiens 
 and his friends deliberately shot and killed Duhaut and Liotal. 
 Thus these heralds of civilization instructed the savages in its 
 lessons. Joutel and his friends were allowed to depart on 
 condition of giving the murderers certificates of their innocence 
 of the crime. They made their way to Fort St. Louis, on the 
 Illinois, where the brave Tonty still held his own, and thence 
 to Canada and France. When Tonty had learned that La Salle 
 had landed on the shores of the gulf, he had gone to meet 
 him. But though he explored the coast for sixty miles from 
 the mouth, failed to find him. La Salle, at that moment, was 
 seeking the fatal river in the plains of Texas. The brave 
 Tonty remained for some years at Fort St. Louis trading in 
 furs. The king finally ordered the post to be abandoned, and 
 his subsequent career is unknown. 
 
118 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The colony on the gulf was left to its fate by Louis XIV. 
 In his gorgeous palaces at Versailles, he turned an ear of stone 
 to the account of Joutel concerning the unfortunates left behind. 
 One day a Spanish ship, guided by one of La Salle's deserters, 
 sought out the spot where the colony had been, intent on its 
 destruction. But the destroyers found the place as silent as 
 death. The weather-beaten palisade was out of repair. The 
 roof of the store-house had tumbled in. The dismounted can 
 non lay scattered around in the mire. The whole place had 
 fallen into decay. Looking a little farther, the fierce Spaniards 
 found a cluster of human skeletons, lying as if they had fallen 
 there in death. Around the .bony finger of one was a little 
 ring. Its possessor had been a woman. Awed by the mystery 
 of the place, the strangers were about leaving, when two men, 
 apparently Indians, came up. They said the colony had been 
 attacked by small-pox. Many had died. The rest were mur 
 dered by the Indians. The speakers were 1'Archeveque and 
 Grallet. They alone remained to tell the tale. They were 
 made prisoners of war, and sentenced to a life imprisonment in 
 a Spanish dungeon. The last of La Salle's colonies had disap 
 peared from the face of the earth ! 
 
DISCOVERY OF I. A SALLE'S RUINED SETTLEMENT, 
 
 119 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 
 
 121 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FATE OF PHILIP. 
 
 [HE Pilgrim Fathers are immortal! No hand 
 can snatch the laurel from their brows. For 
 two hundred and fifty years their fame has 
 steadily grown. Their history has been written 
 with faithful accuracy and elaborate detail. It 
 is a part of our common knowledge, our uni 
 versal heritage. We see them as they were. 
 In the dark and narrow cabin of the May 
 flower, as it passes the farthest reach of human laws, we see 
 them calmly signing a compact to make and keep laws for 
 themselves. We see them, men, women, and children, in an 
 open shallop, pelted by storms of sleet and hail, their clothing 
 stiff with frozen spray, beating their way through the wintry 
 tempest to the bleak and rocky New England shore. A narrow 
 street of log dwellings arises in the wilderness. Some have 
 exchanged luxury and elegance for these humble homes. We 
 see them struggling with starvation, disease, and death. The 
 little graveyard swiftly grows, until, before the flowers of spring, 
 the number of the dead exceeds that of the living. For lib 
 erty of opinion they lay down their lives. When all but eight 
 men are stricken down, these few toil day and night in service 
 for the sick, refusing no task, however mean. We see them 
 daily in dread of an attack from brutal savages. 
 
 Yet in the midst of these toils and dangers, they are prayer 
 ful and contented. In spite of the demoralizations of a life in 
 
 
122 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the wilderness, their conduct is as correct as the law itself; 
 their moral principles as rigid as iron; their hearts as loyal as 
 love. Though starving to death, they will not trade for an 
 ounce of the corn which some Indians bring, because it is the 
 Sabbath day. We see them for weeks at a time with nothing 
 but a few clams and some cold water to place before them 
 selves at meals, yet giving thanks in prayer to God that they 
 "could suck of the abundance of the seas, and of the treasures 
 hid in the sands." For a while the daily allowance of corn is 
 five kernels to the person. These kernels are carefully parched, 
 a blessing pronounced over them with all solemnity, thanking 
 God for his abundant mercy, and then they are eaten with 
 cheerful hearts. All this they endured, and infinitely more. 
 Yet not one person gave up and went back to England. They 
 came to stay. 
 
 The pure and lofty character of the Plymouth colonists is in 
 marked contrast with that of the thieves and cut-throats of many 
 another colony. 
 
 We have seen how the English robbed and murdered Pow- 
 hatan's people, and abducted his daughter. The Puritans, in 
 spite of their more fearful hardships, took nothing, not a 
 bushel of corn, not an acre of land, without making compensa 
 tion. The Indians immediately surrounding them were ruled 
 by Massasoit. With him the Pilgrims made a treaty, and by 
 him it was faithfully kept for forty years. 
 
 This treaty, though carefully regarded in letter and spirit 
 by the Pilgrims themselves, was not so well kept by their 
 descendants. They gradually narrowed Massasoit's territory 
 and encroached on his rights. He had formally submitted to 
 the English king and laws. Every time a horse was stolen or 
 a hen-roost pilfered, every time an Indian boy got into a quar 
 rel with his white playmates, old Massasoit was summoned to 
 Plymouth to be tried in court for breach of faith. To these 
 things he had submitted quietly, and his prestige and influence 
 which had kept loyal his own subject tribes, gradually waned. 
 
PEALING OUT THE FIVE KERNELS OF CORN. 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 125 
 
 In 1661 Massasoit was gathered to his fathers. His two 
 sons, Alexander and Philip, had been deeply impressed by the 
 decline of their father's power and the alarming increase of the 
 English. They represented the younger and more radical ele 
 ment of their people. Alexander succeeded to the sachemship. 
 The colonists were shrewd enough to see the change in the 
 Wampanoags. They detected a more independent air in the 
 braves, and a less friendly disposition in their chief. 
 
 It was decided to summon Alexander before the Plymouth 
 court to answer charges of plotting against the colony. The 
 young chief refused to come. Greatly excited, the English sent 
 an armed force to arrest him. He was marched to Plymouth 
 with the muzzle of a gun against his head. His rage knew no 
 bounds. The indignity offered him crushed his kingly spirit. 
 He was taken alarmingly ill, the effect of his fury- and his 
 grief. The Indians begged to take him home. The privilege 
 was granted, but he never reached Mount Hope. While on the 
 way his brief and bitter reign was ended by death. This event 
 filled the hearts of his people with sullen hate. They believed 
 him to have been poisoned by the English. 
 
 Philip of Mount Hope, one of the few Indians who is 
 acknowledged by the white men to have been truly great, suc 
 ceeded his brother. His determination was made to have 
 revenge and drive the English from the country. But this 
 great scheme required time. He renewed the treaty with the 
 English and sought in every way to allay their suspicion. It 
 was a work of years to restore to his people their supremacy 
 and power, but in time his superior diplomacy placed him at 
 the head of nearly all the tribes of New England. 
 
 The Mohegans alone remained faithful to the English. 
 Philip exerted every effort to accumulate guns and ammunition 
 for his warriors. His men became expert marksmen, and con 
 tinually practiced athletic exercises, all in pursuit of their com 
 mon purpose. So carefully were these preparations concealed 
 that the colonists did not suspect Philip until 1671. At that 
 
126 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 time the frequent assemblies of Indians, their incessant grinding 
 of hatchets, the mysterious threats and insolent manners of the 
 savages, who had for sixty years lived as the colonists' neigh 
 bors and friends, were too plain to be misunderstood. 
 
 Philip was summoned to explain his conduct. He refused 
 to come unless accompanied by his men. The conference took 
 place in the meeting-house at Taunton. On one side of the 
 house were ranged Philip's ferocious warriors. Their long black 
 hair, their eyes glittering with treachery and hate, their fan 
 tastic plumes and decorations contrasted strangely with the 
 prim and austere Puritans, with plain garb, close-cut hair, and 
 solemn countenances, as they ranged themselves on the opposite 
 side of the church. Philip claimed that his military prepara 
 tions were for war with the Narragansetts. Evidence was at 
 hand, hoVever, to show that he was on better terms with their 
 people than ever before, and had been planning an attack on the 
 colony. His plans were by no means ripe, and he denied any 
 hostile purposes, signed a new treaty, and agreed to surrender 
 all his guns. He is said to have been frightened into this agree 
 ment, but his history is written only by his foes. Seventy guns 
 were given up at once, but the summer wore away without any 
 more being surrendered. 
 
 At last Philip was notified from Plymouth that, unless the 
 arms were given' up by September 13th, resort would be had to 
 force to compel the act. Messengers were also dispatched to 
 the great and wealthy Massachusetts colony, at Boston, to 
 secure its co-operation. Philip, shrewd enough to have per 
 ceived the jealousy and rivalry between the two colonies, set 
 off at once to Boston. With the rarest diplomacy he flattered 
 the Massachusetts colony by certain territorial concessions, and 
 made such an adroit statement of his case, representing that 
 Plymouth had encroached on the other colonies by summoning 
 him for trial before her own court, and virtually declaring war 
 without consulting them, that the Bostonians not only refused 
 to help Plymouth, but coolly criticised her action as wrong and 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 127 
 
 unwarrantable. The dispute was referred to mediators. Philip, 
 bent on gaining further time for his plans and preparations, 
 signed a new treaty, and for three years nothing further 
 occurred to bring on a collision. 
 
 The three years were used by the sachem to concert a most 
 elaborate plan for the extermination of the English. Ancient 
 enmities were forgotten. All New England tribes were to unite 
 in a confederacy of which Philip was to be the chief. The Nar- 
 ragansetts alone were to furnish four thousand warriors. The 
 spring of 1676 was fixed for the destruction of the colonists. 
 But an accident brought on the war at an earlier date, and 
 before Philip's arrangements were complete. 
 
 Among the "praying Indians," converts of the Rev. John 
 Elliot, was a savage named Sassamon, who had received an 
 English education, and acted for a while as a teacher. Philip, 
 needing a secretary to write his letters, employed Sassamon, 
 who was thus admitted to the confidence of the sachem, and 
 learned his bloody plans. Partly owing to Elliot's persuasions 
 to resume Christianity, from which he had apostatized while 
 with Philip, partly from a quarrel with his chief, Sassamon 
 resigned his position and informed the colonists of the conspir 
 acy. Although secrecy was pledged, the wily Philip found out 
 the betrayal. 
 
 One winter morning Sassamon was missing. His hat and 
 gun were found near a hole in the ice on a deep pond. His 
 body was recovered and exhibited marks of violence. Three 
 Indians were arrested as the murderers. Guilty or innocent, 
 the three wretches were hung. 
 
 Philip continued to organize his army. Strange Indians 
 enlisted by hundreds. When the colonists mildly remonstrated 
 he replied with insults. Awashonks, the squaw sachem or 
 queen of one of the tribes, sent word to Plymouth that Philip 
 wanted her to unite in a war. Philip himself had, for several 
 weeks, been holding a war-dance at Mount Hope. Its length 
 indicated the greatness of the conflict. The women and chil- 
 
128 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 dren of his tribe were sent away to be cared for by the Narra- 
 gansetts. Just before the outbreak, John Borden, a Rhode 
 Island man, and a great friend of Philip, tried to dissuade the 
 Indian monarch from war. His reply is remarkable : 
 
 "The English who came first to this country were but a 
 handful of people, forlorn, poor, and distressed. My father did 
 all in his power to serve them. Others came. Their numbers 
 increased. My father's counselors were alarmed. They urged 
 him to destroy the English before they became strong enough 
 to give law to the Indians and take away their country. My 
 father was also the father to the English. He remained their 
 friend. Experience shows that his counselors were right. The 
 English disarmed my people. They tried them by their own 
 laws, and assessed damages my people could not pay. Some 
 times the cattle of the English would come into the cornfields 
 of my people, for they did not make fences like the English. 
 I must then be seized and confined till I sold another tract 
 of my country for damages and costs. Thus tract after 
 tract is gone. But a small part of the dominion of my ances 
 tors remains. I am determined not to live till I have no 
 country." 
 
 " This," says a writer, " is a declaration of war more strik 
 ing in its origin, more true in its statements, than any with 
 which we are acquainted. It is the mournful summary of accu 
 mulated wrongs that cry aloud for battle, not for revenge alone, 
 but for the very existence of the oppressed. It is the sad note 
 of preparation sounded by a royal leader that summons to their 
 last conflict the aboriginal lords of New England." 
 
 These burning words were followed by burning deeds. The 
 pent-up fury of his people could no longer be restrained. The 
 20th of June, 1675, was Sunday. Eight Indians, bent on mis 
 chief, entered the little settlement of Swanzey, ransacked a 
 house, and shot the peaceful cattle pasturing on the green. In 
 trying to prevent them from forcing their way into his house, a 
 settler fired at and wounded one of the savages, who went sul- 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 129 
 
 lenly away with bloody threats. In view of the alarming state 
 of affairs, messengers were dispatched to Boston and Plymouth. 
 Thursday, the 24th, was appointed as a day of fasting and 
 prayer. 
 
 On that day the village wore the stillness of a Sabbath. 
 The pious colonists were returning with thoughtful faces from 
 the log church. The rough street, filled with stumps, wound 
 past the cabins with their little clearings and through the noon 
 day shadows of the primeval forests. Suddenly the glint of a 
 gun-barrel shone through the thicket two puffs of smoke, two 
 sharp reports, and two manly forms, clad in their sober gray, 
 lay prostrate forever. The Puritans were dumb with horror. 
 Two of the party started to run for a surgeon/ At the bend of 
 the road each fell dead with a ball in his heart. In a moment 
 red flames burst through the roofs of a dozen cabins. 
 
 Leaving their slain in the street, sixteen men and fifty-four 
 women and children fled to a large house, where they prepared 
 for defense. Others were killed in attempting to reach a place 
 of safety. One story comes to us of a servant girl in a cabin, 
 who hid two little children under a brass kettle, fired at an 
 Indian entering the house, and, failing to kill him, beat him off 
 by throwing live coals in his face, so that he was found in the 
 woods dead from his wounds. 
 
 As the terrible news spread like wildfire through the colo 
 nies, little companies of men were quickly raised. The houseful 
 of people at Swanzey was relieved. From every direction came 
 news of other outrages. In a day or two the force at Swanzey 
 numbered over a hundred. An expedition set out for Mount 
 Hope to attack Philip. On the way were seen the ashes of 
 many a cabin, with the heads and hands of the family placed in 
 front on sharp stakes. Philip, fearing a trap, had withdrawn 
 from the little peninsula of Mount Hope, and the expedition 
 was a failure. 
 
 The war quickly became general. The Indians appeared at 
 various points at once. Isolated cabins were fired and their 
 
130 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 occupants murdered. Men were shot from thickets as they 
 galloped along the highway. Women were killed as they went 
 to draw water from the well or gather green corn in the fields. 
 Everywhere was terror and apprehension. 
 
 The colonial forces fought to little advantage. The Massa 
 chusetts and Plymouth troops, under different commanders, 
 failed to co-operate. The mode of Indian warfare, or indeed, 
 of any kind, was ill understood. One company insisted on 
 ransacking a large tract of country in which there was not a 
 sign of an Indian. Another little detachment was bent on 
 building a fort at Mount Hope. 
 
 Captain Benjamin Church alone seems to have had a genius 
 for warfare. With sixteen men he successfully resisted for six 
 hours one hundred and fifty savages. He ridiculed the notion of 
 a fort, and laughed away the fears of his undisciplined men. The 
 great difficulty was to meet the Indians in force and strike a 
 decisive blow. A deserting Indian offered to conduct the Ply 
 mouth troops to a place where a large body of his people were 
 . encamped. They had proceeded about two miles when their 
 gallant captain called a halt, and wanted to know of Church 
 what certainty there was that the Indians had not already left 
 the camp. Church told him the thing, though not impossible, 
 was unlikely, and urged an advance. " If I was sure of kill 
 ing all the enemy, and knew that I must lose the life of one 
 of my men in this action, I would not attempt it," said the 
 chicken-hearted commander. " Then," said Church, " take your 
 men to the windmill in Rhode Island, where they will be out 
 of danger and be far less trouble to feed." 
 
 Church, with a small detachment of men, succeeded in 
 maneuvering Philip into the great Pocasset swamp. The Mas 
 sachusetts troops had pushed into the Narragansett country, 
 and with great show of force concluded a treaty with the Nar- 
 ragansetts, which they observed faithfully so long as their ene 
 mies were in sight. The united forces then marched on Philip, 
 who still lurked in the great swamp. 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 
 
 131 
 
 FIRST SCENE OF PHIMP'S WAR. 
 
 The English supposed that, three sides of the swamp being 
 surrounded with water, if they guarded the land side, when his 
 provisions ran out, Philip would be forced to surrender. So they 
 built a fort and waited, One fine morning they discovered that 
 the game had fled. Leaving his M , ES 10 , . 30 40 50 *> 
 starving women and children to 
 fall into the hands of the En 
 glish, Philip and his warriors, 
 under cover of night, had es 
 caped by swimming the river, 
 and were on their way north. 
 Wetamoo, the widow of his 
 brother Alexander, who was 
 ever at Philip's side, had es 
 caped with him. 
 
 One incident of this period 
 of the war was the capture of 
 one hundred and sixty Indians, and their sale into perpetual 
 slavery by the Plymouth colony. Strange inconsistency in men 
 whose fathers had suffered so much for liberty! A force of 
 Massachusetts troops were in pursuit of Philip, but for some 
 reason were recalled and disbanded. It is more than hinted 
 that this failure to pursue Philip, while in his enfeebled condi 
 tion, grew out of a jealousy of the Plymouth colony, and a 
 desire in the Massachusetts colony to magnify her own services 
 to Plymouth by letting Philip annoy her longer. The history 
 of colonial jealousies is a monumental proof of the value of the 
 nation. 
 
 The policy of Massachusetts was a mistake. She sowed the 
 wind and reaped the whirlwind. The war was transferred to 
 her own borders. A thousand happy homes were destroyed 
 from the face of the earth by the avenging foe. 
 
 Brookfield, an exposed settlement of twenty families, suf 
 fered first. Twenty horsemen, coming to its defense, were 
 ambushed in a deep gully through which their road ran, and 
 
 
132 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 eleven killed. Frenzied by this success, three hundred In 
 dians rushed into the settlement. The frightened people gath 
 ered for defense in one house. From the window they saw 
 the torch applied to their homes, rude, but dear to every 
 heart. In an hour, every cabin, with all its precious little col 
 lection of household furniture, all the more prized because 
 brought over from the old home in England, was a heap of 
 smoldering embers. 
 
 The Indians then besieged the only remaining house, the 
 one in which the people were gathered. Inside, the women 
 fastened feather-beds to the walls for protection. Outside, the 
 savages exerted their infernal ingenuity to fire the building. 
 Long torches and brands were thrown on the roof. One night 
 a fire was built against the very door, and the colonists had to 
 rush out to a well for water to quench the flames. A cart was 
 filled w.ith hemp and combustibles, fired, and pushed against the 
 house, but a heavy rain saved it. At the end of two days, the 
 besieged were relieved by a force of fifty men from Boston. 
 One Englishman and eighty Indians had been killed. This sol 
 itary house was garrisoned for a while, and then the settlement 
 was abandoned. Its site again became a part of the surround 
 ing wilderness. 
 
 Major Willard, who had marched to the assistance and res 
 cue of the people, suffered military censure and disgrace for 
 having gone there instead of remaining at Hadley, where there 
 were no Indians. The poor man died of a broken heart. 
 
 The fate of Brookfield was also the fate of Hatfield, Deer- 
 field, Northfield, North Hampton, Springfield, and Worcester. 
 In one battle, one hundred of the picked soldiers of Massachu 
 setts were slain. 
 
 The attack on Hadley, on September 1st, affords a curious 
 illustration of the superstition of the times. This town had 
 three organized companies for defense. But the attack took 
 place during public worship on Sabbath morning, and the panic- 
 stricken people started to fly in the wildest confusion. Sud- 
 
GOFFK RALLYING THE MEN OF HADLEV. 
 
 133 
 

THE FATE OF PHILIP. 
 
 135 
 
 SECOND SCENE 
 OF PHILIP'S WAR. 
 
 denly, a stranger of immense stature, with flowing white hair, and 
 commanding voice, appeared in their midst, with a rallying cry. 
 His strange aspect and authoritative manner quickly rallied the 
 frightened colonists. They believed him to be an angel of the 
 Lord. Men fought under his leadership with the wildes.t cour 
 age, and after a bloody battle the savages 
 gradually retreated from the place. 
 
 When the colonists turned to look for their 
 benefactor, he had disappeared. That he was 
 a supernatural visitor no one doubted. It. was 
 a part of the age to believe it. It is to be 
 remembered that the colonists believed in 
 witchcraft, and burnt many a man and woman 
 at the stake for it. They had sentenced an 
 Indian to death for killing Sassamon, on the 
 testimony of a man, that when the corpse of 
 four days was approached by the Indian, its 
 wounds commenced bleeding afresh. They believed in haunted 
 houses, in legerdemain, in spooks. No story of an old woman 
 riding through the sky on a broomstick, or of an Indian with 
 bow and arrows, in the moon, was too much for their credulous 
 imaginations. 
 
 Six years after the attack on Hadley, when a great comet 
 appeared in the heavens, the whole population of New England 
 abandoned the usual tasks of life, and passed their days and 
 nights in horrified prayer, regarding the wild visitor, with his 
 flaming tail reaching half across the sky, if not as a portent 
 of the end of the world, at least, as one of wars, famine, and 
 the plague. The dark, but romantic genius of our Hawthorne 
 has caught the gloomy tints of early New England superstition, 
 and woven them into the strange web of his thrilling romances. 
 
 So the story of the angel of the Lord, who had saved Had 
 ley, passed into the traditions of the place. Years afterward, it 
 was discovered that the stranger was one of Cromwell's soldiers, 
 a regicide judge, who had aided in condemning Charles I to the 
 
136 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 scaffold. He had lived for many years, during the Restoration 
 of the Stuarts, concealed in the house of the minister of Had- 
 ley, unknown to his nearest neighbors. The truth was scarcely 
 less strange than the fiction. But when once the mind has 
 clasped a slimy superstition to its bosom no logic can avail to 
 loosen the embrace. The good people of Hadley continued to 
 believe the myth. 
 
 Hitherto the colonies had acted independently of each 
 other. Their only hope to avoid utter destruction lay in UNION. 
 Commissioners were appointed from Massachusetts, Plymouth, 
 and Connecticut, to form a confederation, and concert united 
 action. They called for a thousand troops. 
 
 Each colony quickly raised her quota. No uniform and 
 epaulets were necessary. Every man with a gun and a blanket 
 was equipped. Though it was the dead of winter, it was 
 determined to attack the Narragansetts in their winter quarters, 
 where four thousand warriors Avere preparing to join Philip in the 
 spring. "Not a Wampanoag nor the paring of a Wampanoag's 
 nail shall be delivered up," had been the answer of their haughty 
 sachem, Canonchet, to the demand for a surrender, in accordance 
 with the treaty, of some of Philip's men, who were with him. 
 
 About the middle of December the expedition of twelve 
 hundred men, under General Winslow, set out through the snow 
 for Narragansett. It was about 
 one o'clock on Sunday after 
 noon, that they came in sight of 
 the Narragansett fort. It was 
 on high ground, in the center of 
 an immense swamp, and covered 
 five acres. The walls were an 
 impenetrable hedge, with pali 
 
 sades and breastworks. Within THIRD SCENE OF PHILIP ' S WAR " 
 this inclosure were five hundred solid bullet-proof log houses. 
 The whole plan of the place was an admirable proof of Philip's 
 genius for war. 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 137 
 
 The only entrance was by a bridge, consisting of the trunk 
 of an immense tree thrown across deep water, along which 
 persons were forced to walk in single file. This bridge was 
 flanked by a block-house. 
 
 As the English charged on the entrance the deadly fire 
 from the block-house again and again repulsed them. Some 
 crossed the tree and reached the inclosure, only to fall pierced 
 by a dozen balls from the shrieking savages within. At last 
 Church, with thirty picked men, gained a foothold behind some 
 logs near the palisade, and rushed into the inclosure. In a 
 moment they were supported by hundreds more. 
 
 Once within the fort, the struggle was but commenced. The 
 shrieks of the savages mingled with- the roar of the musketry. 
 The living made barricades of their own dead. It was the 
 great struggle of New England. On the one hand, fought three 
 thousand Indian warriors, inspired by every feeling of patri 
 otism, hatred, revenge, the sense of oppression, and love for 
 their families. They fought for their native land. On the 
 other, were the colonists, the offspring of an age of intolerance 
 and fanaticism, of war and revolution. Exiled from their 
 native land, these men of iron had wrought out for themselves 
 rude homes in the wilderness. Unless they could maintain their 
 settlements in New England against the savages, there was no 
 place under the bending sky where they might live in liberty 
 and peace. The inhospitable earth would disown her children. 
 
 So they fought, nerved by thought of wife and child, by the 
 memory of the past, by the hopes of the future. The ground 
 within the palisade was red with bloody mire. For three hours 
 the conflict raged without decisive result. The slaughter on 
 both sides was immense. The English could not be driven 
 from the fort, nor could they dislodge their foes. At this point 
 a battle which had also been raging without the fort turned in 
 favor of the English. The victors pursued their foes within the 
 palisade. The ammunition of the Indians ran low. A cry arose 
 among the English to fire the wigwams. 
 
138 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The scene was terrific. To the din of battle were added 
 the dull and thunderous roar of the flames, and the shrieks and 
 wailings of old men, women, and children, who, unable to escape 
 through the murderous volleys of the English, were driven back 
 to be roasted alive in the fiery furnaces. 
 
 Wilder and wilder grew the conflict. The combatants no 
 longer fought as men but as demoniacs. Quarter was neither 
 asked nor given. Corpses were piled up in vast heaps. Little 
 by little the English advanced. Little by little the Indian fire 
 slackened. When night closed in with a heavy snow storm, the 
 English were left masters of the fort. The savages retreated 
 to the gloomy and smoky depths of the swamp, where many 
 perished with the cold. 
 
 The colonists had since day-break marched sixteen miles, 
 and fought a terrible battle, all without a mouthful of food. But 
 they had yet to retrace their steps, in the darkness, through a 
 dense forest, a deep snow beneath their feet, and a December 
 storm roaring through the leafless trees. By the glare of five 
 hundred smoldering wigwams, they collected their dead and 
 wounded, and wearily trudged away into the forest. As the 
 exhausted men stumbled along over the rough ground, bearing 
 their slain, many a brave comrade sank down by the way to 
 rise no more. Soon after the colonial army dispersed. 
 
 It was too soon to have disbanded. The power of the 
 Narragansetts was broken, but the master spirit of Philip still 
 survived. The course of the war was hardly checked by the 
 great swamp fight. In the early spring Philip swept the coun 
 try from one end to the other with resistless fury. Lancaster, 
 Medfield, Weymouth, Groton, Seekonk, Providence, and Sud- 
 bury were plundered and burnt. In one action, every man in 
 a company of seventy picked men from Plymouth was killed. 
 It was no longer a war of conquest. It was a war of exter 
 mination. 
 
 Once a colonist was on one side of a rock, an Indian on the 
 other, watching their opportunities to kill each other. The colo- 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 139 
 
 nist put his hat on the end of his gun and carefully raised it 
 a little above the top of the rock. The Indian, thinking it was 
 the head of his foe, instantly fired at the object. In a moment 
 the colonist left his hiding-place, and shot the Indian who had 
 uselessly emptied his gun. Another time an Indian was sepa 
 rated from his white antagonist by the upturned roots and 
 clinging earth of a fallen tree. The savage cautiously dug 
 a little hole through the mass of earth, presented the muzzle 
 of his gun, and shot his antagonist dead. 
 
 The prospects of the colonies had never seemed so dark. 
 From every direction came reports of disaster and defeat. A 
 new call for men was made. The settlements were literally 
 drained of their defenders. A happy stroke turned the tide 
 somewhat- in their favor. Canonchet, the great chief of the 
 Narragansetts, Philip's principal captain and a masterful war 
 rior, was surprised and captured by a party of English. He was 
 offered his life on condition of bringing about a peace, but the 
 suggestion was scornfully rejected. When informed that he 
 must die, he made this memorable answer: "/ like it well: 1 
 shall die before my heart is soft, or I have said any thing unworthy 
 of myself T Because he had refused to violate the laws of hos 
 pitality by surrendering his friends, the Wampanoags, his father 
 had been murdered, his warriors slain by the hundred, his 
 women and children burnt alive in the flaming wigwams of the 
 fort. Yet for all this he uttered not a word of reproach. 
 Scorning to save his life by the submission of his people to 
 such conquerors, he calmly folded his arms across his kingly 
 breast, and with head erect and cheek unblanched, received the 
 fatal bullets to his heart. In all the lore of chivalry and war 
 there can be found no more heroic soul. % 
 
 As the summer wore on, though the ferocity of the Indian 
 ravages was not abated, yet influences were at work which were 
 surely undermining the power of Philip. Having had their stored 
 corn destroyed by the English, and being prevented from planting 
 new crops by the desolation of war, his warriors, to escape star- 
 
140 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 vation, had changed their diet almost entirely to meat. This 
 caused many to fall a prey to disease. The allied tribes mur 
 mured loudly, saying that Philip had promised them much plun 
 der; but, instead, they had gained nothing by this war, save 
 hardship and suffering and the enmity of the English. Philip's 
 foresight of the future of his people, unless the encroachments 
 of the English were forever stopped, was not shared by the 
 common Indian. It was not the first nor the last time that a 
 blind mob rejected the wisdom of leaders*. 
 
 These murmurings soon blazed into open quarrels. Nothing 
 fails like failure. The fights began to result favorably for the 
 colonists. Offers of peace were made to all who would submit, 
 and various bands of Indians began to accept these offers. The 
 English were about to succeed in spite of their own folly. Their 
 troops were without discipline, and openly threatened their 
 inefficient commanders. Church, who had inspired every success 
 ful movement, had been deposed from command and dismissed 
 from the service, for opposing the sale of Indians into slavery. 
 He was recalled, however, in June, and went alone to Awas- 
 honks, queen of the Saconets, and negotiated a treaty of peace. 
 Not only this, but the Saconets entered the English army, and 
 fought faithfully till the close of the war. 
 
 This, and several other distinguished successes, forced the 
 jealous colonists to enlarge the powers of Captain Church, 
 giving him authority to raise men and make peace or levy 
 war, just as he thought best. With a large force of Indians 
 and a few whites, Church toiled day and night, now surprising 
 and capturing a large force of Philip's warriors, now making 
 peace with his allies, now squarely whipping them in open fight. 
 The English method of warfare was abandoned. He fought the 
 Indians with their own methods. On a half dozen different occa 
 sions he made captures of over two hundred men. Once he was 
 unable to leave a guard for his prisoners while he went into 
 battle. He told them that, if they attempted flight, he would 
 shortly recapture them, and inflict severe punishment ; but if 
 
THE FATE OF PHILIP. 141 
 
 they would follow him and not run off, they should be well 
 treated. Such was his power over them that, after the fight, 
 every Indian voluntarily surrendered again as a prisoner. 
 
 These repeated blows hurried on the final crisis. Philip, 
 with a broken and disheartened remnant of his own people, 
 retired to a swamp near his old home of Mount Hope. To 
 Church was allotted the closing act in the tragedy. Philip was 
 encamped on a little knoll in the swamp. Church, foreseeing 
 that flight would be attempted, silently posted his men in the 
 swamp, so as to completely encircle the knoll. Philip was 
 sitting on a log, relating to a friend a troubled dream which he 
 had had, omen of his approaching fate. 
 
 At the first fire the Indians fled. Philip ran right towards 
 an ambush of the English. A Saconet Indian fired. With a 
 terrific leap in the air, the great captain of Mount Hope fell 
 dead, a fulfillment of the, prophecy of his people that Meta- 
 comet should never fall by English hands. The corpse was 
 dragged out of the swamp; the head sent to Plymouth, where 
 it was set up on a gibbet for twenty years; the body quartered 
 and nailed to four trees, a terrible exhibition of the barbarism 
 of the age. All of Philip's principal friends were executed or 
 sold into slavery, and shipped to the West Indies. This last 
 was the fate of young Metacomet, Philip's only son. 
 
 "Such," said Edward Everett, "was the fate of Philip. 
 He had fought a relentless war, but he fought for his native 
 land, for the mound that covered the bones of his parents; he 
 fought for his squaw and papoose; no I will not defraud them 
 of the sacred names which our hearts understand; he fought 
 for his wife and child." 
 
 Philip of Mount Hope was a great man. He proved him 
 self so, both in diplomacy and war. He foresaw the dark 
 destiny of his people, and held himself completely aloof from 
 the insinuating influence of the English, who had so infatuated 
 his father. Before the war, Rev. John Elliot, of the Massa 
 chusetts colony, the great apostle to the Indians, made the 
 
 8 
 
142 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 most persistent efforts to induce Philip to embrace Christianity. 
 The courtly savage had always received his arguments and 
 persuasions politely, but without other effect. One day he took 
 hold of a button on Elliot's threadbare coat, and said : " I care 
 no more for your religion than I do for that old button. Let me 
 hear no more about it." 
 
 The Puritan imagination pictured Philip and his warriors as 
 infernal fiends. But fifty years later the descendants of those 
 who nailed his quartered corpse to trees, and sold his child 
 into burning slavery, learned to understand him better. He 
 was a hero, a patriot, who suffered much. His people were 
 destroyed. A handful of his warriors escaped to the far West, 
 and joined La Salle at Fort St. Louis. But the proud name of 
 the Wampanoags was buried in oblivion. 
 
 With the close of the war, the bruised and bleeding colonies 
 began to survey the extent of their sufferings. Between fifteen 
 and twenty towns had been destroyed from the face of the 
 earth by the swift and terrible vengeance of Philip. A few 
 charred timbers, and a heap of ashes marked the site of many 
 a lonely farm house. Among the ashes often lay the bleaching 
 bones of its defenders. The mangled remains of the little herd 
 of cattle lay scattered about the pasture, while overhead slowly 
 circled on wide extended pinions, the black and ominous birds 
 of prey. Now and then a bedraggled and sickly chicken, weak 
 ened by starvation, sole survivor of the desolation, tottered 
 feebly around the yard, listening, waiting for the kindly call to 
 feasts of yellow grain that never came. The fields so hardly 
 won by cruel toil and valiant struggle from the unwilling 
 forest, lay desolate and abandoned. 
 
 Hardly a family was there in all the colonies from which a 
 father or a son had not gone out to battle to return no more 
 forever. There were few cripples. Their enemy had seldom 
 wounded except unto death. The war had been a destroyer, 
 with one exception. In that it was a creator. It had created 
 for the colonies a debt of half a million dollars. 
 
DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 
 
THE FATE OF PHIL I P. 
 
 145 
 
 "New England had suffered terribly. Six hundred men, the 
 flower and pride of the country, had fallen in the field. Hun 
 dreds of families had been butchered in cold blood. Gray- 
 haired sire, mother, and babe, had sunk together, under the 
 vengeful blow of the red man's gory tomahawk. Now there 
 was peace again. The Indian race was swept out of New 
 England. The tribes beyond the Connecticut came humbly 
 submissive, and pleaded for their lives. The colonists returned 
 to their desolated farms and villages to build new homes in the 
 ashes of old ruins." 
 
 But the vitality of the colonies was inexhaustible. The 
 ordinary tasks of life, sowing and reaping, bartering and manu 
 facturing, were resumed with tireless zeal and vigor. In a few 
 years the crimson footprints of the war were effaced, and peace 
 and prosperity smiled throughout the land. 
 
 SCENE OF PHILIP'S OPERATIONS IN NEW ENGLAND. 
 
146 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE LION AND THE LILIES. 
 
 HE British Lion and the Lilies of France ! Such 
 were the emblems of the two terrible antago 
 nists on either side of the English channel, who 
 were to contend for the incomparable prize of 
 the North American continent. Through cent 
 uries of hate their armies had fought on the 
 blood-soaked soil of Europe. When the hardy 
 English colonies took root along the narrow 
 fringe of coast between the Alleghanies and the sea, France, 
 planting herself on the discoveries of La Salle, silently stretched 
 out the rod of empire over the vast American interior. The old 
 feud had fastened its fangs upon the New World. 
 
 The difference between the two nations was strikingly mani 
 fest in America. The English colonies were, from the first, neg 
 lected by their government and thrown on their own resources. 
 The French were supported by royal bounty, and nourished 
 with grants of power. The English founded free institutions ; 
 every man owned his own cabin and plat of ground; their gov 
 ernment was of the people and by the people. The French 
 transplanted the coarsest feudalism ; a few nobles owned the 
 soil, while the remainder of the population were mere tenants. 
 The principal occupation of the Englishman was agriculture, keep 
 ing him closely at home, while the Frenchman relied mainly on 
 the fur trade, and with his articles of traffic traversed the rivers 
 and forests of the entire continent. The English ministers 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 149 
 
 preached the Gospel only to the savages within call of their 
 colonies; but the burning zeal of the Catholic Jesuit carried 
 him to the remotest forests. The English were acquainted only 
 with the Indians of their immediate neighborhood, while the 
 Frenchmen insinuated themselves into the wigwams of every 
 tribe from the lakes to the gulf. On summer evenings they 
 danced with the squaws who visited their posts at Vincennes 
 and elsewhere, and made the places ring with their merriment. 
 The English aimed only at making for themselves and their 
 children comfortable homes of liberty and peace, and held them 
 selves sternly aloof from the natives. The French ambition 
 was military empire. To achieve this they spared no effort and 
 neglected no art to win the love and alliance of the red men. 
 
 The great question of the boundaries of the respective 
 dominions was enough to have brought on war of itself, with 
 out the help of immemorial hostility and the essential antag 
 onism of opposite institutions and religions. In the numerous 
 wars between France and England these questions had, up to 
 1753, never been settled. France claimed the right to all the 
 territory west of the ridges of the Alleghanies. The English 
 colonies, on the other hand, claimed that their territories reached 
 between the same parallels of latitude which they occupied on 
 the Atlantic coast, westward to the Mississippi River. In the 
 actual military occupation of the territory, the French were far 
 ahead of their slower and less ambitious rivals. They had 
 dotted the wilderness with log forts before the English turned 
 their heavy eyes to the fair domain beyond the mountains. 
 
 When in 1754 came the shock of battle, the Indians, with 
 few exceptions,' were the allies of France. A large number of 
 Scotch, Irish, Germans, and English had from time to time 
 pushed the line of settlements into the fertile valleys of the 
 Alleghanies, and even beyond the mountains. 
 
 A young Virginian, George Washington, making an explor 
 ing tour, found French forts frowning with cannon, and was 
 informed that France proposed to seize every settler west of 
 
150 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the mountains. On hearing this, Virginia placed this explorer 
 at the head of a hundred and fifty undisciplined men who were 
 to protect the settlers, and in particular kill every Frenchman 
 who interfered with the new fort, which an English company 
 was building at the forks of the Ohio. Before Washington 
 
 reached there, a force of French 
 and Indians had captured the 
 unfinished fort, completed it for 
 themselves, and named it Fort 
 du Quesne. A force was dis 
 patched against the approaching 
 band of Englishmen, who were 
 intrenched at Fort Necessity. 
 When the enemy was discovered 
 Washington gave the command 
 "Fire!" That word kindled the 
 world into a flame. 
 
 "Thus began that memorable 
 
 120 150 'JOT 210 240 
 
 FIRST SCENE OF THE FRENCH AND INDIAN 
 WAR. 
 
 war," writes an eloquent historian, 
 " which, kindling among the wild forests of America, scattered 
 its fires over the kingdoms of Europe, and the sultry empire of 
 the Great Mogul ; the war made glorious by the heroic death 
 of Wolfe, the victories of Frederic, and the marvelous exploits 
 of Clive ; the war, which controlled the destinies of America, 
 and was first in the chain of events which led her on to revo 
 lution, with all its vast and undeveloped consequences. On the 
 old battle-ground of Europe, the struggle bore the same familiar 
 features of violence and horror which had marked the strife of 
 former generations. But in America war assumed a new and 
 striking aspect. A wilderness was its sublime arena. Army 
 met army under the shadows of primeval woods, their cannon 
 resounded over wastes unknown to civilized man. And before 
 the hostile powers could join in battle, endless forests must be 
 traversed and morasses passed, and everywhere the axe of the 
 pioneer must hew a path for the bayonet of the soldier." 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 151 
 
 Washington and his little band were driven out of the coun 
 try in short order. When heavy sail vessels carried the news to 
 London and Paris, each government dispatched troops to their 
 respective colonies. In the spring of 1755 General Braddock 
 set out with an army of several thousand men for the conquest 
 of Fort du Quesne. The army was composed of a force of 
 British regulars, in their scarlet uniforms and gay trappings, 
 and of levies of raw troops from the colonies. 
 
 It was a great event to the settlers. From far and near 
 they flocked to see the redcoats. Every colonist along the 
 route who possessed a wagon was pressed into the service of 
 hauling provisions for the mighty host which, with glittering 
 banners, wound slowly through the forests. Settlers who had 
 no wagons served as axemen to blaze a road for the army. 
 Every neighborhood sent its company. Hundreds of men, in 
 advance of the army, toiled day and night, felling trees, burning 
 thickets, leveling molehills, and bridging streams, preparing a 
 way for the soldiery, the long line of wagons, and the ponderous 
 cannon. 
 
 It was a Herculean task. The veteran troops were soon 
 worn out in this new mode of warfare. Many a redcoat fell 
 dead in the ranks, pierced by a ball from an unseen weapon. 
 The raw yeomanry in advance of the army suffered heavily. 
 In a company of three hundred, raised in one neighborhood, 
 there were only thirty old-fashioned guns. Many a man, 
 busily swinging his ax, and left behind somewhat by his com 
 panions, was snatched away into the forest by swarthy foes. 
 Among these was James Smith, of whose adventures more here 
 after. The slow advance of the heavy column made it neces 
 sary for twelve hundred picked troops, with light equipment, to 
 press on, leaving the rest to follow more slowly. 
 
 At Fort du Quesne were a small number of Frenchmen and a 
 multitude of Indians gathered from far and near. On the 9th of 
 July Indian scouts reported the near approach of the British. 
 Instantly the fort became a pandemonium. The Indian allies 
 
152 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Prenc 
 v English 
 
 SCENE OF BRADUOCK'S DEFEAT. 
 
 stamping, yelling, smearing their bodies with grease and gaudy 
 paint, were harangued by their chiefs, and wrought into a 
 delirium of courage and fury. Great barrels of powder, bullets, 
 and flints were hurriedly rolled into the parade-ground and 
 knocked open, while the frantic _ 
 
 throng helped themselves to what 
 ever they wanted. Shortly, at the 
 word " March," there formed in sin 
 gle file and issued from the fort, 
 two hundred white men and eight 
 hundred Indians. 
 
 Seven miles from the fort, the 
 narrow road along which the British 
 were approaching, wound through 
 a dark and dangerous defile into 
 which opened two ravines. Here 
 their foes hid in deadly ambush. 
 When the splendid column of British regulars, with scarlet 
 coats and gleaming gun-barrels, entered the defile to the sound 
 of drums and the blare of trumpets, followed by the less regular 
 ranks of ununiformed colonists, not a soul suspected that, 
 behind every tree and fallen log, in the thick underbrush 
 and in the shadow of mossy rocks, lurked deadly and terrible 
 enemies. 
 
 Suddenly a volley of shots, followed by a wild, discordant 
 clamor, was heard at the front. Quickly a hundred commands 
 of " Halt," were shouted along the line. The troops, far ahead 
 in the ravine, were seen to fire. In a moment, the Indians on 
 either side of the column throughout its entire length, poured 
 in a deadly fire at point-blank range. Not an enemy could be 
 seen, though the forest resounded with their yells, and every 
 bush and tree blazed with the flash of their weapons. The 
 troops, insane with panic, fired wildly in the air. The narrow 
 defile was choked with their slain. Vainly the heroic officers 
 sought to rally their men. Again and again they endeavored to 
 

DEATH OF BRADDOCK 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 155 
 
 get them to form in small detachments and drive the enemy 
 from the woods. But the brave young officers would advance 
 but a few steps at their head to find themselves forsaken by 
 their men. 
 
 Almost two hours the conflict raged. Steadily the Indians 
 kept up their fire till seven hundred out of the army of twelve 
 hundred men were slain. Then the remainder turned and fled, 
 leaving their dead and all their splendid equipment of cannon, 
 small arms, wagons, tents, and clothing piled in bloody ruin in 
 the defile. Here General Braddock was mortally wounded, and 
 here his aid-de-camp, George Washington, calm amid the storm 
 of death and disaster, won that reputation which afterward 
 caused him to be appointed commander-in-chief of the armies 
 of the Revolution. 
 
 When the British fled, the Indians sprang wildly from. their 
 ambush to feast upon the banquet of blood. Like fiends, like 
 monsters, like wild beasts, like incarnations of all the raging and 
 hellish passions of the human heart, they leaped upon the slain. 
 They scalped the corpses, crushed in their skulls with toma 
 hawks, jumped on the breasts and stamped in the ribs, tore out 
 the vitals, and wrenched limb from limb and member from mem 
 ber. Their uproar was different from the yells of battle. The 
 forest resounded, but it was to a guttural roar, several notes 
 below the war-whoop. It was the savage fury and satisfaction 
 of wild beasts as they tear and mangle their bleeding prey. 
 
 At last the shades of night drew their curtain around the* 
 fearful scene. At last the gorge of blood was ended. At last 
 the horrid appetites were appeased. Smeared from head to foot 
 with the gore of their enemies, decked out in the gay uniforms 
 of the soldiery, carrying the guns which had so lately been aimed 
 against them, and dangling the reeking scalps of their foes from 
 their belts, the Indian warriors, with eye-balls still blood-shot 
 with the frenzy of battle and voices still raised in boasts and 
 frantic screams, picked their reluctant way, one by one, over the 
 mountains to their expectant squaws. Just seven Indians and 
 
156 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 four Frenchmen had been slain. That night unwonted fires 
 blazed on the banks of the Alleghany River opposite Fort du 
 Quesne. The groans of the shrieking victims, who had fallen 
 alive into the hands of the Indians, pierced the night and, rising 
 above the moan of the wind and the roar of the rushing river, 
 penetrated even to the fort, as the torturing flames leaped up 
 and walled them in. 
 
 The traveler through Pennsylvania looks out upon the 
 prettiest scenery in the world. Seated in the palace-car of a 
 lightning-express train, his fascinated eye never wearies of the 
 swift and brilliant panorama which paints itself in changing 
 splendors on the plate-glass window. At one moment he looks 
 with awe on yawning precipices and rugged mountain steeps, in 
 some cleft of which stands a little house, with difficulty kept 
 from tumbling down the abyss. Now he beholds some lovely 
 valley, decked out with all the beauties of the changing seasons. 
 
 In this warm and fertile spot, hemmed in by lofty mount 
 ains, are smiling farms and happy homes. Sleek cattle graze 
 peacefully in pastures green, and far below him, looking like a 
 toy, stands the husbandman, with plow and team afield, pausing 
 in his toil to watch the smoking dragon of the distant train in 
 its splendid flight. Far as the traveler's eye can reach white 
 villages dot the sequestered vale, each with its quiet church and 
 noisy school, through which the throngs of merry children troop 
 all day. Anon he glides along the shore of the lovely 
 Susquehanna, whose placid surface mirrors sky and land 
 scape with such perplexing accuracy that the line of the oppo 
 site shore, where the water ends and the land begins, is 
 indistinguishable. 
 
 At the time of Braddock's defeat the country was by no 
 means so different from the above as one might think. To be 
 sure, the railroads and bridges, the busy factory towns, and the 
 perfectly cultivated farms are the magical handiwork of a later 
 day. But at that time the mountains were as picturesque, the 
 skies as blue, the valleys as fertile, the streams as crystalline, 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 157 
 
 the climate as delightful as they are to-day. For all these 
 natural endowments the colonist had an eager eye. 
 
 For fifty years the settlers had been, to some extent, pass 
 ing by the more crowded and sterile shores of the ocean for 
 this splendid interior country. In 1755 the population was 
 sparse and unequally distributed, but already the fertile parts 
 of eastern and, to some extent, central Pennsylvania were occu 
 pied by thousands of settlers. The houses were but cabins, 
 often five miles apart. A town consisted of little more than 
 a grist-mill, a blacksmith shop, and a meeting-house, all of logs. 
 But for the sake of the advantages of the region, the coura 
 geous race of hardy pioneers had left their more cautious 
 brethren behind and braved the dangers of the treacherous 
 Indian and the ravenous beast. 
 
 The same state of affairs existed in Virginia and Maryland. 
 The country was full of Indians, who still roamed through it in 
 quest of game, but these were gradually withdrawing toward 
 the west, and those who remained gave little trouble to the 
 pioneers. No danger had been experienced or apprehended for 
 many years, and the settlers made and cultivated their farms 
 without means of defense, or fears of interruption. 
 
 The arts of the French, however, had, as we have said, grad 
 ually won the Indians to their support. All through this mag 
 nificent region, as well as among the ferocious tribes of the great 
 west, the stolid countenances and indifferent manners of the red 
 men concealed a bitter jealousy and hatred of the English, who 
 were driving the game from their forests and crowding the red 
 men off of their ancestral domain. 
 
 The defeat of Braddock opened the flood-gates of fury. The 
 last obstacle was removed. The red tide of blood rolled in 
 crimson torrents, unchecked, over the fair domain of which we 
 write. The true history of the time has never been written. 
 The general historian passes it over with a few lines, stating 
 that for three years the whole region was desolated by Indian 
 warfare. Nothing more. The panics, the massacres, the burnings, 
 
158 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the tortures, the prayers for mercy, the uplifted tomahawks, the 
 crushing skulls, all these are omitted. 
 
 The farmer plowing in his fields, the wife singing over her 
 household tasks, the red-cheeked, laughing children romping 
 through the orchard, these were the victims of a war whose 
 ferocity and desolation are hardly equaled in history. War is 
 the most terrible of all experiences. But there are varieties of 
 war. The conflict of armies is grand. The carnage of the battle 
 is awful. But the war which has for its object, not the destruc 
 tion of a military force, but the desolation of the fireside, the 
 outrage of womanhood, the embitterment of childhood, is worse. 
 It is harming the harmless. It is wreaking vengeance upon 
 innocence. It is the infinitude of wickedness. 
 
 Measure, if you can, the frantic, maddening grief of one hus 
 band, returning at sunset from his toil in the forest, to find the 
 little cabin home a heap of embers, and his precious wife a mu 
 tilated corpse. Conceive, if you can, the heart-breaking anguish 
 of one mother, as she sees the yelling fiends sink the tomahawk 
 into the skull of her sleeping infant, or worse yet, sees her 
 children, the joy and pride of all her life, torn from her arms, 
 and carried captive to the distant wigwams of the west. Imagine, 
 if it be possible, the tearful sorrow, the blighting loneliness of 
 one childish heart, as the little fellow, running in glee to call his 
 father to the evening meal, finds the fond form stretched beside 
 the half-chopped log, stilled forever into the unresponsive hush 
 of death. Take such things as these. Sound with line and 
 plummet the black waves of agony which beat in restless surge 
 within a single human heart. Then multiply this by all the 
 thousands who suffered thus, at the time of which we write. 
 The awful sum of sorrow will reach the stars ! 
 
 So complete was the work of the savages, as for three years 
 they roamed at will through Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Vir 
 ginia, that few were left alive to tell the story. The greater 
 part of all the suffering and desolation never became known to 
 history. The sufferers died, carrying the secret of their fate 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 159 
 
 with them into oblivion. Yet in spite of this, the busy voice 
 of tradition whispers a thousand tales of horror. 
 
 If we descend from the stately narrative of the general his 
 torian to the local traditions and histories of counties and neigh 
 borhoods, we find every one rich with gloomy traditions of the 
 past. Each smiling valley has its stories of horror ; each moun 
 tain its thrilling legends. Not a rippling stream is there whose 
 waters have not been reddened with the tide of massacre ; not 
 a lonely dell from which the moaning wind has not carried the 
 shrieks and pleadings of suffering ones. 
 
 Within two months after Braddock's defeat, the work of 
 slaughter began. The frontiers were open and defenseless. The 
 Indians in great force appeared suddenly in Cumberland county. 
 From this point their detachments swept the entire country 
 with fire and sword. The inhabitants fell by hundreds, easy 
 victims to savage atrocities. The people, living in the greatest 
 dread, besought the government at Philadelphia to protect them. 
 On October 29th, 1755, John Harris, the founder of Harrisburg, 
 a trader of great energy and ability, wrote as follows to the 
 governor : 
 
 " We expect the enemy upon us every day, and the inhabi 
 tants 'are abandoning their plantations, being greatly discouraged 
 at the approach of such a number of cruel savages, and no sign 
 of assistance. The Indians are cutting us off every day, and I 
 had a certain account of about fifteen hundred Indians, besides 
 French, being on their march against us and Virginia, and now 
 close on our borders, their scouts scalping our families on our 
 frontiers daily. . . " . Consider our terrible situation, and 
 rouse your people downwards, and not let about fifteen hundred 
 villains distress such a number of inhabitants as is in Pennsyl 
 vania. They now have many thousands of bushels of our corn 
 and wheat in possession already." 
 
 In response to this and a hundred similar appeals, the Legis 
 lature was convened, but the Quakers who composed it declared 
 themselves opposed to war, and refused to do any thing. Mean- 
 
160 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 while the work of fire and slaughter went on. In Berks County 
 hundreds of houses were laid in ashes, hundreds of persons 
 scalped and slain, and many, without distinction of age or sex, 
 taken captive and subjected to frightful tortures. Says one 
 letter of the time, " The county is in a most dismal condition. 
 It can 't hold out long. Help for God's sake. Consternation, 
 poverty, and confusion everywhere." 
 
 An assault was made on a settlement of twenty-five persons 
 at the mouth of Penn's Creek, on the Susquehanna, from which 
 not one escaped. The only history of the bloody deed is that 
 given by neighbors who came to bury the dead. "We found 
 but thirteen, who were men and elderly women. The children, 
 we suppose to be carried away prisoners. The house where 
 we suppose they finished the murder we found burnt up ; the 
 man of it, Jacob King, lying just by it. He lay on his back, 
 barbarously burnt, and two tomahawks sticking in his fore 
 head. . . . Terror has driven away almost all the inhabit 
 ants, except a few of us who are willing to stay and defend 
 the land. But as we are not at all able to defend it for want 
 of guns and ammunition, and are few in numbers, without assist 
 ance, we must flee and leave the country to the mercy of the 
 enemy." 
 
 By the dark waters of the Lehigh, in what is now Carbon 
 county, the Moravian Brethren had founded a settlement of 
 Christian Indians, called Gnadenhutten. A half mile off they 
 laid out a farm, built a mill, a blacksmith's shop, a meeting 
 house, and a dwelling. This latter settlement was called Maho- 
 ning. On an evening in November the white brethren were at 
 supper. The dark night and the roaring of the wintry blast 
 through the valley, stripping the trees of their last brown leaves, 
 made the little band of devoted people all the more thankful 
 for the warm fire and smoking meal. 
 
 Suddenly the dogs set up a loud barking. Some one went 
 out to see what was the matter. A shot was heard. Every 
 one rushed to open the door. As the light streamed out the 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 161 
 
 yard was seen to be alive with savages, who instantly fired, 
 killing two persons. The remainder fled to the garret, heavily 
 barricading the door. After vain efforts to burst open the door, 
 the Indians fired the house. Three persons escaped by jumping 
 from the flaming building. The rest, seven men, three women, 
 and one child, were shot in the attempt or burned alive. The 
 settlement was plundered and destroyed, while the neighbors at 
 Gnadenhutten fled through the night to Bethlehem, thirty miles 
 away. 
 
 This dreadful work was but the first act in the drama of 
 destruction in this neighborhood. Seven settlements were in 
 turn destroyed. The whole population of the country fled, and 
 a region of settled farms, a hundred miles wide, was left with 
 out a single white inhabitant. The interior towns were choked 
 and crowded with these wretched refugees, who poured into 
 them, destitute of food, clothing, or means, and overwhelmed 
 with the great sorrow which had visited them. 
 
 A letter, written to Benjamin Franklin, from Easton, Penn 
 sylvania, which must have been a hundred or more miles from 
 the border settlements, says : " The settlers on this side of the 
 mountain are actually removed and we are now the frontier. Our 
 poor people of this town have quite expended their little sub 
 stance and are wearied out with watching. Seeing themselves 
 neglected they are moving away as fast as they can. Pray do 
 something for our speedy relief or the whole country will be 
 entirely ruined. All this part of the country is now entirely 
 lost, and the enemy are penetrating further and further, and if 
 immediate measures are not taken, they will soon be in sight of 
 Philadelphia. The whole country is flying before them." 
 
 The slaughter was by no means confined to this section of 
 the state. The same state of affairs existed everywhere, even 
 to Greene county in the extreme south-west. Still the Quaker 
 Legislature refused to help. Popular indignation knew no 
 bounds. The bodies of the dead and mangled were sent to 
 Philadelphia, hauled around the streets in public view, and 
 
162 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 placarded "THESE ARE THE VICTIMS OF THE QUAKER POLICY OF 
 NON-RESISTANCE !" A vast mob assembled around the House of 
 Assembly, piled the corpses in the doorway, and demanded that 
 instant action be taken. 
 
 At last, with great reluctance, the Assembly ordered the 
 erection of a chain of stockade forts at the mountain passes 
 from Easton to Bedford, a line of two hundred and fifty miles, 
 at a cost of half a million dollars. These forts varied in size, 
 but were much alike in structure. The stockade included from 
 a half to two acres, and consisted of logs set close together in 
 the ground and extending twelve feet above. Another row 
 inside made it a double stockade. At the corners were projec 
 tions, and within the inclosure were log barracks and a maga 
 zine. Occasionally the fort was merely a block-house. This 
 was a solid log building, generally octagonal in form, of which 
 the upper story projected about three feet beyond the lower to 
 enable the defenders to fire on the enemy beneath, and prevent 
 fires from being built against the walls, which were appropri 
 ately pierced with port-holes. 
 
 Although this line of forts had been begun, the year 1756 
 only brought new horrors. The first region to suffer was what 
 is now Franklin county. The savages remained there a month. 
 Two brothers, named Craig, were captured on their way to 
 McDowell's mill. Sixty men started in pursuit. A sharp fight 
 resulted in favor of the savages. An attempt made by the 
 latter to surprise the fort resulted in another desperate 
 encounter in a thicket near its walls. 
 
 The attempt to surprise the fort at McDowell's was foiled. 
 But Indians are tireless. Defeated at one point, they will 
 strike at another. When a man named Barr was fired at and 
 escaped, they went and burned his and all the neighbors' 
 houses. When defeated at McDowell's, they went to Mc- 
 Cord's fort. Here they were in luck. They burned the fort 
 in process of construction. They killed twenty-seven of its 
 defenders. William Mitchell had collected a dozen reapers to 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 165 
 
 cut his grain. Being cautious, they took their guns into the 
 harvest field. But a man can not carry a gun and wield a 
 scythe at the same time. Nor can a reaper stand all the time 
 in one place. So the men laid down their weapons. The 
 Indians waited. In two hours the reapers had mowed so 
 much that they were two hundred yards from their guns. It 
 is unnecessary to tell what followed. The Indians somehow 
 carried away twelve more guns than they brought. They 
 also left twelve corpses in the field. The Great Reaper had 
 gathered the little reapers. 
 
 These massacres were not all. The Conococheague is a 
 creek. On its banks was a settlement. It was composed of 
 brave men, hard-working women, and laughing children. One 
 day there was a war-whoop in the forest. There were 
 some shots, some shrieks, some gasps. Suddenly the Conoco 
 cheague, which is naturally as clear as crystal, became ruddy. 
 This unusual color proceeded from the wounds in thirty-nine 
 bodies which were thrown into its current. Thirty-nine had 
 been the exact number of living souls in the settlement. 
 
 Without salt, life is unbearable. John Grey and Robert 
 Innis went to Carlisle to purchase it. The providences of God 
 are inscrutable. On the return, while descending the mount 
 ains, a bear ran across the path, frightening Grey's horse, which 
 threw him off and ran away. Innis was anxious to get home. 
 He left his companion behind. It took the latter all day to 
 catch his horse and readjust his pack. This made him lose his 
 temper. It also saved his life. When he reached the fort, 
 where he lived, its logs were well burned. Every occupant of 
 it, including Innis, had been killed or taken prisoner. Failing 
 to find the remains of his wife and daughter, Grey rightly con 
 cluded they had been taken prisoner. They had been carried 
 to Canada. 
 
 Poor Grey, after every effort to hear of their whereabouts, 
 died of a broken heart. His will divided his little farm equally 
 
 between wife and daughter. If the daughter did not return, 
 9 
 
166 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 her share was to go to a sister. The widow returned in a year, 
 proved the will, and received her half. Her daughter was still 
 captive. In 1764, all Indian captives, by terms of the peace, 
 were brought to Philadelphia. Mrs. Grey failed to find her 
 daughter, but, in order to get the daughter's share of the prop 
 erty, claimed another child as her own. The stratagem suc 
 ceeded for the time. But as years rolled on, the spurious heir 
 developed coarse features, loose morals, and vile manners. The 
 heirs of the sister brought suit, and, in 1836, it was decided that 
 the supposed heir was not Grey's child. 
 
 At the time of Mrs. Grey's capture, other bands of Indians 
 were doing similar things in other places. In what is Lehigh 
 county, there were a few settlers who still dared to remain. 
 It was folly. As the family of Frederick Reichelsderfer sat 
 down to breakfast, they were fired upon from a window and 
 every one killed. At the house of Jacob Gerhart all were 
 killed outright, except two children. These little fellows had 
 crawled under the bed. This, however, reserved them for a 
 worse fate. They were burned alive. 
 
 These instances are selected at random from a hundred 
 others. But how about other places ? Mifflin county is one 
 hundred miles west of Lehigh. Fort Granville had a strong 
 garrison. The settlers, crowded into the stockade for safety, 
 asked to have a part of the troops act as guards while they 
 reaped their harvest. Unless grain could be had, starvation 
 would ensue. Only twenty-four men remained in the fort. 
 That night the Indians attacked it, and set it on fire. 
 
 Besides the garrison, three women and six children were 
 captured. The prisoners were hurried away. In the morning 
 they were treated to a rare sight. A soldier, named Turner, 
 was tied to a stake. Some gun-barrels were heated red-hot and 
 run through his body. The sickening odor of burnt flesh was 
 delicious to the Indians. After three hours Turner no longer 
 cried. This spoiled the fun. An Indian boy of eight years 
 was held up in the arms of its proud father, with a tomahawk 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 167 
 
 in the boy's hand. The cherub took careful aim. He split 
 Turner's head open at one stroke. This feat so delighted the 
 fond parent that he gave the infant prodigy a bow and arrows. 
 
 About this time the Quakers in Philadelphia formed a 
 "Peace Association." The association at once bought a large 
 number of splendid presents and sent them to the Indians, to 
 " propitiate " them. It was a bold step, so bold that one laughs 
 right out at it. On August 24, 1756, another desperate plea 
 for help was sent to Philadelphia, " begging, for God's sake," as 
 it reads, " that you may take pity on our poor families." 
 
 There were reasons for this outcry. A band of Indians had 
 spread new desolation in the neighborhood in which lived the 
 petitioners. Among this band an Indian named Cotties wanted 
 to be made chief or captain. The warriors laughed at him. 
 " Where are the scalps of the enemies you claim to have killed ? 
 You are but a squaw !" That night Cotties and an Indian boy 
 disappeared from the camp. The reproach stung him. Rivalry 
 in slaughter, competition in destruction such a contest is ter 
 rible. Cotties determined to compete with the entire band of 
 sixty Indians in the red tournament. 
 
 At Sherman's Creek lived William Sheridan with his family. 
 On a fashionable city street, as many as two children in one 
 family are unusual. On the frontier it is different./ Population 
 is needed. William Sheridan had ( thirteen children. Cotties 
 hid himself in the bushes. When Sheridan came out after 
 fire-wood, Cotties buried a knife in his heart. Presently the 
 oldest son came out to look for his father, and was similarly 
 treated. In half an hour Cotties had sixteen scalps at his belt. 
 
 Half a m-ie down the creek, buried in a deep wood, stood a 
 solitary cabin, occupied by two old men and one woman. Thither 
 proceeded the terrible Cotties. He entered the dark wood. In 
 an hour he emerged. It could be seen that he carried nineteen 
 scalps instead of sixteen. The three new ones came from the 
 three old people. When Cotties returned to his camp, the braves 
 threw down their weapons. Nineteen scalps in one day! ,The 
 
168 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 whole band had only taken eighteen in the same time. They 
 begged the redoutable Cotties to become their chief. Such a 
 hero was little short of a demi-god. 
 
 Sometimes luck was against the Indians. James Bell, while 
 out hunting for deer, discovered three savages. One of them 
 he fired at and wounded. From the shots of the others he 
 protected himself by a large tree. But a tree is a protec 
 tion only on one side. There were two Indians. They moved 
 in opposite directions to checkmate Bell. This would have 
 succeeded if Bell had not shot and killed one of them. The 
 third turned to fly, taking the dead savage on his back. Bell 
 fired. His ball passed through the corpse and lodged in the 
 living body. 
 
 One evening a settler came in from the forest and found his 
 cabin burnt, and his wife and children murdered. As he looked 
 on the ruin, a tempest of fire swept through his being. In a 
 moment the waving foliage of hopes and loves, of sympathies 
 and compassions were burnt out, leaving his nature like the 
 charred trunks of trees through which has passed the roaring 
 forest fire. A demon entered into and possessed him. As he 
 walked to and fro before the heap of ashes which had borne 
 the precious name of home, his clenched fist was shaken at the 
 surrounding forest. His teeth were gnashed together. A storm 
 came up. The rains of heaven beat down unnoticed upon his 
 unprotected head. The crack of the thunderbolt, the flash of 
 the forked lightning alike failed to attract his attention. 
 
 It was midnight. By the dull glow of the cabin embers the 
 man could be seen, still walking backward and forward. The 
 storm ceased, but not the walker. At last morning dawned. A 
 bird caroled its early song from the leafy branches of a mighty 
 tree. The man .paused. He looked around with a bewildered 
 air. At a distance, in a puddle of water, lay his hat, where 
 it had fallen the night before. He picked it up. As he 
 did so his eye fell upon the corpse of his child. He started. 
 He had been living over his entire life. He recollected him- 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 169 
 
 self. With heavy heart he dug a grave and reverently laid 
 away to rest the bodies of the dead. One mighty burst of tears, 
 one last look at the little homestead, and he was gone. Hence 
 forth all aims and ambitions, all hopes and affections were fused 
 into one overmastering passion REVENGE. Caves and moun 
 tains became his dwelling-place. 
 
 Before this calamity he had not been known to a half dozen 
 men. They soon forgot him. The pioneers found corpses of 
 Indians in the forest, half devoured by birds of prey. When 
 they saw it they said, " He has been here." They heard the 
 crack of a rifle at midnight in the mountains, and said, "It is 
 he." One night a settler hearing a shot near by, threw open 
 his door. A dead savage lay before it, and a voice called out 
 from the woods, "I have saved your lives." That was all. He 
 was the protector of the settlers. Though they knew not his 
 name, he was well known. He was spoken of as " Captain 
 Jack," "The Black Rifle," "Half Indian," and "The Wild 
 Hunter of the Juniata." At one time he had about him a band 
 of men as formidable as himself. At last he disappeared. The 
 grateful settlers perpetuated his memory. They said that every 
 night at midnight, he revisited, in spirit form, a favorite spring, 
 drank from its clear depths, and then vanished. Who is there 
 that can say it was not so ? 
 
 Kittanning was an Indian village on the Alleghany River, 
 the stronghold of Jacobs and Shingas, the most ferocious and 
 bloodthirsty of the Indian chiefs. From this point were sent 
 out many of those terrible war parties, which swept the defense 
 less frontier with desolation and destruction. On the 30th of 
 August, 1756, Colonel John Armstrong, with a band of three 
 hundred brave frontiersmen, set out to attack this nest of thun 
 derbolts. A journey of seven days brought them within six 
 miles of the village. At this point, a half dozen Indians were 
 found sitting around a fire in the woods. As Armstrong's plan 
 was to surprise the town, these fellows were left in peace for 
 the time being, a dozen men under Lieutenant Hogg, remaining 
 
170 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 to watch them, while the main body made a detour and pushed 
 on to the village. 
 
 The attack was made at sunrise, through a cornfield which 
 concealed their approach. A desperate fight ensued. The 
 houses were fired. Again and again the Indians were called on 
 to surrender. But the offer was invariably refused. They 
 defended their houses with desperate courage. Jacobs, the chief, 
 was shot in getting out of a window. As the flames walled in 
 many for whom escape was impossible, they set up the death 
 song, which rose in wild and plaintive notes above the din of 
 the conflict. The store of powder in each house, which the 
 Indians had boasted was sufficient for ten years' war, exploded 
 with terrific force, flinging many an unfortunate high in air. 
 Eleven captives were rescued; the village and great stores of 
 provisions were destroyed, and forty warriors killed, the major 
 ity escaping by flight. 
 
 Only the night before, an advance party of twenty-four 
 Indians had gone out on an expedition against the frontier. 
 Lieutenant Hogg attacked these, but was defeated, after losing 
 several of his best men. He, himself, though badly wounded, 
 was overlooked by the enemy, and lay in the forest, helpless and 
 hopeless, until he was fortunately discovered and rescued by the 
 victorious army on its return march. For this valiant service, 
 the city of Philadelphia presented Armstrong with a memorial 
 medal. 
 
 Yet the Indian ravages were unchecked. The line of forts, 
 the heroic efforts of the settlers, were nothing. When the third 
 year after Braddock's defeat rolled round, the boundless brutal 
 ities of the Indians, instead of being checked, were more con 
 stant, more wide-spread, and more terrible than ever before. 
 
 What at the beginning of the war had been the interior, in 
 which danger was never apprehended, became in turn the front 
 ier. The country was absolutely depopulated. The territory 
 now forming many counties, which, in 1755, was tolerably set 
 tled, became a howling wilderness, and was abandoned to sav- 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 171 
 
 ages and wild beasts. The bold invaders pushed farther and 
 farther to the east. One day Philadelphia learned that a band 
 of warriors had sacked and pillaged the country and massacred 
 the inhabitants, only thirty miles away. 
 
 The instances we have given are only a few drops from a 
 mighty flood, only a few dead coals raked from the embers of 
 a tremendous conflagration. There is enough of insecurity, of 
 transitoriness in life at best. The universal tragedy goes on 
 around us perpetually. Each of us comes to take his turn in 
 the last sad act of the dreadful drama. 
 
 Yet to all this, for the pioneers of Pennsylvania and of all 
 new countries, were added the horrors of border warfare. As 
 the family huddled around the fire-place at evening, they felt 
 that each rattle of the shutter in the wintry blast might be the 
 work of a savage hand. The rustling leaves of the forest might 
 only conceal the stealthy approach of moccasined feet. Each 
 trip to the well after nightfall for a bucket of water was like a 
 sally from a beleaguered fort. Every shadow might hide a 
 dusky form. Behind every tree might lurk a murderous enemy. 
 The bark of the dogs, or the querulous cacklings of the sleepy 
 hens, might be the warning of the approach of an Indian war 
 party. Life had no security. The regularity of toil, the pur 
 suit of ambitions, the routine of the family, the quiet succession 
 of tasks in the respective seasons all this was broken into and 
 interrupted. 
 
 But why not fly ? Why wait until the crimsoned tomahawk 
 was raised in air, and the little cabin crackled in the flames ? It 
 is easy to answer. To fly was to lose home and all means of 
 subsistence, and become homeless refugees, starving wanderers, 
 pensioners on a cold and reluctant charity. Added to the real 
 dangers of the situation were the fantastic horrors of the imag 
 ination. In such a community wild rumors filled every breeze. 
 Hardly a day passed that some messenger of alarm did not dash 
 past the cabin on flying steed. A hundred times a year the 
 settlers took refuge in the forts from imaginary enemies. 
 
172 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 In such sorrows did the rivalries of France and England 
 involve the innocent settlers of distant Pennsylvania, Maryland, 
 and Virginia. In this way did the arts of the Frenchman turn 
 the rage of the Indian against the English in favor of himself. 
 Yet it was useless. England, defeated and humiliated on every 
 battle-field, whether in Europe or America, called to her help a 
 single man, an invalid, without fortune, family, or party. That 
 man was William Pitt. With the voice of an archangel he 
 roused the States of Protestantism to wage a war for mastery 
 against the despotic monarchy and the institutions of the Middle 
 Ages, and to secure to humanity its futurity of freedom. The 
 mighty alliance which he created humbled the haughty mon 
 arch of the French and changed the destinies of mankind. 
 
 In 1758 three great military expeditions were fitted out by 
 the English in America. One of these achieved the conquest 
 of Louisburg; another that of Fort Frontenac. A third was dis- 
 .patched, under General Forbes, to attack Fort du Quesne, and 
 if possible, drive the savages from the country. It was success 
 ful. The fort at the junction of the Alleghany and Mononga- 
 hela rivers once more passed into the hands of the English. 
 With unanimous voice the new fort, rising on the ruins of the 
 old was named FORT PITT, in honor of the great statesman, 
 whose genius was overwhelming the enemies of England. 
 " Pittsburg," says Bancroft, " is the most enduring trophy of 
 the glory of William Pitt. Long as the Monongahela and the 
 Alleghany shall flow to form the Ohio, long as the English 
 tongue shall be the language of freedom in the boundless val 
 ley which their waters traverse, his name shall stand inscribed 
 on the Gateway of the West." 
 
 The year 1759 witnessed another series of victories planned 
 by Pitt. Among these was the memorable and dramatic fall of 
 Quebec. These successes continued without interruption, until, 
 on September 8, 1760, the French surrendered all of Canada to 
 the English. Everywhere the Lilies of France were supplanted 
 by the British Lion. 
 
THE LION AND THE LILIES. 
 
 173 
 
 So far as France was concerned, the peace, which had come 
 to the bruised and bleeding pioneers of Pennsylvania, Virginia, 
 and Maryland, on the fall of Fort du Quesne, and which was 
 now re-enforced by the surrender of Canada and all French forts, 
 was permanent. Such the settlers believed it to be. Unfor 
 tunately, France, in winning the Indians to her cause, and 
 deluging in blood the country of their enemies, had evoked a 
 spirit which would not down at her bidding. 
 
 1 .-3 
 
174 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 OHAPTEE V. 
 
 ROGERS'S RANGERS. 
 
 iMONG the colonial recruits raised for the Brit 
 ish army in the year 1755, after the awful 
 defeat of Braddock, was Captain Robert Rogers, 
 who was at the head of a small company of 
 rough fellows from New Hampshire. He was 
 over six feet high, physically the most pow 
 erful man in the army. He had been virtually 
 brought up in a hunter's camp. From boy 
 hood he had, with gun, blanket, and kettle, some ammunition, 
 and a little sack of parched corn, ranged the untrodden forests 
 of New England and Canada in search of furs and game. He 
 had slept with the savages in their wigwams, wrestled and 
 gambled with their warriors, ogled their squaws, shot the 
 rapids with them in their frail bark canoes, until the Indian 
 character and methods hid no secret from him. When the 
 recruits assembled at Albany, New York, General Johnson, 
 knowing Rogers by reputation, employed him from time to 
 time on important scouts. His head-quarters were at Fort 
 William Henry, a new fort erected by the British at the 
 southern extremity of Lake George. 
 
 Taking four or five trusty men with him, he would proceed 
 up the lake to a convenient point, hide the canoe in the rushes, 
 and push his way through the forest, penetrating the sentry 
 lines to the very camp of the enemy. At Crown Point, one 
 of the French forts, his men, under cover of night, concealed 
 
ROGERS' S RANGERS. 175 
 
 themselves in the willows only three hundred yards from the 
 fort. When morning dawned, Rogers, holding some bushes in 
 his hand, crawled nearer. While making his reconnoissance, 
 numbers of soldiers and Indians came out of the fort and 
 engaged in drilling or shooting at marks so near that Rogers 
 could not rejoin his men, nor could the latter retreat without 
 discovery. . As he lay behind a small log, a Frenchman left 
 his companions and walked directly toward the spot of con 
 cealment. Rogers sprang at him with his gun, offering quarter. 
 The stranger, instead of submitting, whipped out a dirk, and 
 made a quick lunge at Rogers, but the latter shot him dead. 
 The report instantly gave the alarm. The Frenchmen ran to 
 the spot where lay the bleeding corpse, but no sign was there 
 of the hand which had done the deed. If Rogers and his 
 men had suddenly evaporated, the mystery, understood only by 
 themselves, could not have been more perfect. 
 
 Soon after their safe return, with information of the enemy 
 gained on the above scout, Rogers took thirty men and 
 two small cannon in four bateaux, and, pushing down the lake, 
 discovered the enemy in an open camp in the forest. Runners 
 bore the information to Fort Henry asking for re-enforcements. 
 The delay caused them to be discovered. The British moved 
 forward to surprise the French, when they perceived a fleet of 
 hostile canoes coming down the lake. No doubt a similar force 
 was advancing by land to catch the British between two fires. 
 Rogers at once threw fifteen men into canoes to decoy the 
 French within range of the two cannon. He steered as if mean 
 ing to escape. The French at once headed diagonally toward the 
 shore, to cut him off. The stratagem succeeded. Two cannon 
 shots sunk as many canoes, and the remainder fled, pursued 
 unsuccessfully by the entire force of British, who had swiftly 
 embarked for the chase. 
 
 In another scout, toward Fort Ticonderoga, Rogers and two 
 companions were discovered on the lake by the enemy. Deter 
 mined not to retreat, the scouts quickly assumed the guise of 
 
176 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 VICINITY OF LAKE 
 GJEOKGE. 
 
 fishermen. All day they coolly floated within gunshot of the 
 French, dropping hook and line into the placid lake, and at even 
 ing actually sold their catch to the French. When night came 
 on the adventurers pushed on toward their destination. Their 
 reconnoissance at Ticonderoga, rendered diffi 
 cult by the intense cold, was about completed, 
 except as to capturing a prisoner, when a snow 
 began to fall. No art could conceal their 
 trail, if they lingered till the snowfall ceased. 
 So the return trip was hastily begun. By 
 Christmas Lake George was entirely frozen 
 from shore to shore. But Rogers and his 
 tireless woodsmen, instead of remaining idly 
 in the warm quarters at the fort, equipped 
 themselves with skates, and braved the win 
 try tempest in many an expedition. Their 
 success was unvarying. Taking a force of from ten to fifty 
 men, on skates, Rogers would skim along the icy floor of the 
 lake surface to a point opposite Ticonderoga or Crown Point, 
 order his men to change their skates for snow-shoes, and move 
 swiftly to some ambush along the roads leading to the fort. Here 
 they would lie in the snow, exposed to the bitter cold, sometimes 
 for two or three days, with no shelter but a few pine boughs has 
 tily thrown together, and without a spark of fire, the smoke 
 of which would instantly reveal them to the neigboring fort. 
 Here they intercepted the sledges carrying fresh beef, venison, 
 and corn to the fort, captured the drivers, and appropriated 
 the provision. When they had caught several prisoners, they 
 would glide into the French settlement, cut the throats of the 
 cattle, set fire to the barns full of grain and to the houses 
 of the villagers, and just as the red flames shot upward into 
 the winter night, throwing their angry glare far across the 
 whitened landscape, the mysterious and deadly Rangers would 
 disappear in the forest as suddenly as they came. 
 
 So valuable were the services of Rogers and his hardy 
 
ROGERS'S RANGERS. 177 
 
 woodsmen, that, in the spring of 1756, he received a special 
 commission from the commander-in-chief to raise an independ 
 ent corps of experienced foresters, men whom he was to choose 
 himself, of the most approved courage and fidelity, and of the 
 greatest physical inurement to exposure. The corps was to 
 be known as ROGERS'S RANGERS, the men receiving the pay of 
 regular soldiers, but carrying on warfare as scouts in their 
 own brave fashion. This famous corps became the right arm 
 of the British troops. Their official instructions were " to use 
 their best endeavors to distress the French and their allies, by 
 sacking, burning, and destroying their houses, barns, barracks, 
 canoes, bateaux, etc., and by killing their cattle of every kind ; 
 and at all times to endeavor to destroy their convoys of provis 
 ion, by land and water, in every part of the country." 
 
 OH the way to Fort Henry, with his new Rangers, Rogers 
 made an elaborate scout around Crown Point. After killing 
 large numbers of cattle, the tongues of which were carefully 
 removed for the Rangers' use, they were discovered and closely 
 pursued by an overwhelming force of French and Indians. In 
 this emergency, Rogers executed a masterly maneuver. Appoint 
 ing a rendezvous at a distant point on the lake shore, the Ran 
 gers suddenly separated, every man taking his own course. 
 Where there had been five minutes before a stout body of men, 
 the enemy found no one. The Rangers had dispersed and left 
 only thin air. From this point on, their history is a succession 
 of thrilling and successful exploits, of which we may only take 
 an occasional glimpse. Not a week passed without some daring 
 scout or victory. The Rangers only had to go out in order to 
 catch a net full of birds, as they called their prisoners. These 
 Rogers would examine separately and with great care, to see 
 if their stories agreed, concerning the strength, movements, 
 plans, supplies, and situation of the enemy. Keen and saga 
 cious in these examinations, able at a glance to separate the truth 
 from falsehood, and wonderfully skillful in reading character, 
 Rogers kept the British head-quarters more accurately posted 
 
178 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 with regard to the enemy than were the French and Indian 
 commanders themselves. From time to time, during the war, 
 the "Rangers" were gradually increased from their original 
 strength of sixty-two men, to more than a thousand. 
 
 One night in July, 1756, while on a lengthy scout, the 
 Rangers prepared to attack a French schooner, lying one mile 
 from the lake shore. Just then two lighters, laden with pro 
 vision and strongly guarded, came in sight, and made for the 
 shore as if to encamp, it being about ten o'clock at night. As 
 they drew close to land, the Rangers fired from the forest, 
 and Rogers offered quarter to the enemy. The latter, however, 
 put about, and made every effort to reach the opposite shore. 
 Before they reached it the terrible Rangers had made prisoners 
 of the entire party, and sunk and destroyed both cargoes, con 
 sisting of wheat, flour, wine and brandy. At this time the 
 French were offering the Indians sixty francs for every English 
 scalp, and prisoners were sold in Canada for sixty crowds. 
 Rogers's first-lieutenant was John Stark, afterwards major-gea- 
 eral of the American army in the Revolution. 
 
 The fall and winter of 1756 were busily employed in harass 
 ing the enemy in the neighborhood of Lake George. On the 
 21st of January, 1757, Rogers had a company of eighty men 
 with him, equipped with skates and snow-shoes. They were 
 encamped three miles from the lake, on elevated ground, near 
 Ticonderoga, from which they commanded a view of the snowy 
 landscape for many miles. Far off on the glittering ice, they 
 saw a small object moving across the lake. The keen eye of 
 Rogers pronounced it to be a sled laden with provision. Lieu 
 tenant Stark set out with ten men to head it off, while Rogers 
 and the others moved swiftly to intercept the retreat. 
 
 Soon after Stark had departed, Rogers detected ten other 
 sleds following the first. It was too late to warn Stark of 
 the fact. The latter struck out for the first sled, and the 
 other sleds, still at a distance, discovering him, instantly put 
 about. Pursuit was the only thing possible. The sleds were 
 
ROGERS'S RANGERS. 179 
 
 made of a long board, turned up in front, and with high racks 
 at the side and end to hold the load. They were as light as 
 egg-shells, and drawn each by two horses, rough shod, and, urged 
 to the top of their speed by relentless drivers, sped over the ice 
 with the velocity of the wind. Quick as thought, Rogers's men 
 clapped on their skates and began the chase. The nearest sleds 
 were a half a mile away. It was a race between swift and 
 powerful horses and the swiftest skaters in the world. On flew 
 the foaming horses, their manes flying and eyeballs strained, 
 scattering showers of ice as their ponderous feet dug into the 
 glittering surface. Wildly the hoarse drivers shouted and plied 
 their rawhide lashes upon the reeking steeds. Behind them 
 came the shaggy and powerful Rangers, seeming as they whirled 
 over the ringing ice like superhuman creatures. The pursuers 
 had the shorter path. The sleds must cross it. Whoever 
 reached the intersection first would win the deadly race. 
 
 As the steel of the pursuers' skate's flashed in the sunlight, 
 it could be seen that they were gaining. Stark and his men 
 had overtaken the rear sled, but the other Rangers paused not 
 in their impetuous career. Still, it was evident, that some of 
 the sleds would escape. One after another of those farthest in 
 advance crossed the point where met the paths of pursuer and 
 pursued. All but two of the sleds had passed the line of safety. 
 Suddenly Rogers, who was six yards ahead of the nearest Ran 
 ger, was seen to unsling his gun. Without slackening his ter 
 rific speed, or removing his eye from the enemy for a moment, 
 just as the second sled from the rear crossed his path he threw 
 his gun to his shoulder and fired. 
 
 The nearest horse was seen to lunge forward and fall, thrown 
 by his momentum, a hundred feet along the ice. His mate, 
 frightened and entangled, lost her footing. In a- moment the 
 Rangers were upon their foes. The last sled fell an easy victim. 
 The race between man and brute had been won by man. 
 
 It was evident that the sleds which had escaped would carry 
 the news to the fort, and rouse instant pursuit. Rogers ordered 
 
180 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 his men to take the seven prisoners, and return at once to the 
 camp fires they had left three hours before. So sudden had been 
 their departure, that the men had not removed the priming in 
 their guns since the previous day. Every thing was made ready 
 for a fight, and a retreat commenced. They had just crossed a 
 little valley, and were nearing the opposite ridge, when the 
 woods blazed with a deadly volley of bullets. Several Rangers 
 fell dead, Rogers himself being wounded in the head. The 
 Rangers retreated to the opposite ridge, where, sheltered by 
 trees, they were enabled to fight to advantage. From two 
 o'clock till sunset the battle raged. Three times the French 
 and Indians tried to flank the British, but as many times were 
 driven back. Rogers received a wound in his wrist, and many 
 of his brave men, scorning the idea of a surrender, lay helpless 
 and bleeding in the snow. At dark the enemy withdrew. 
 
 Worn out with the exciting events of the day, many of their 
 number badly wounded, the exhausted Rangers still felt it 
 necessary to retreat farther from the enemy's neighboring fort. 
 For six weary miles they groped their way through the forest. 
 Once they caught sight of a camp fire, and made a wide detour 
 for fear of Indians. At last, a comfortless camp was pitched 
 for the night. In the morning the wounded were unable to 
 proceed farther without assistance. Lieutenant Stark offered 
 to go to the fort on snow-shoes, a distance of forty long miles, 
 and procure sleighs for them. 
 
 In spite of the many difficulties and hardships of the way, 
 he traversed the entire forty miles by sundown, and dispatched 
 a relief party with sleighs for the wounded, so that they reached 
 the suffering men before morning. Just as the sleighs arrived 
 the Rangers perceived a black object, at a great distance, crawl 
 ing over the ice. Supposing it to be one of their stragglers, a 
 sleigh was sent to investigate. It proved to be Joshua Martin, 
 who had been shot through the hips. He had been left for 
 dead on the field of battle, but managed to crawl back into the 
 woods and build the fire which his companions saw and avoided. 
 
ROGERS'S RANGERS. 181 
 
 Feebly and with great pain, crawling . through the snow, he fol 
 lowed their track to the lake, and then moved along the ice. 
 When relief reached him he fainted away, but afterward recov 
 ered and fought all through the war. 
 
 The French made several attempts to capture Fort Henry, 
 but as long as the Rangers were there these efforts failed. 
 Rogers, suffering greatly from his wounds, had gone to Albany 
 for surgical aid, soon after the events last recorded. While 
 there he was attacked with the small-pox, that scourge alike 
 of the wilderness and of the city. So it happened that on the 
 16th of March, 1757, Stark was acting commander of the 
 Rangers at Fort Henry. On that evening, as he made his 
 round of inspection, he noticed the men standing in little knots, 
 engaged in busy conversation, interrupted with many laughs. 
 It was the eve of St. Patrick's day. These lonely fellows were 
 planning their celebration. Stark at once gave orders to the 
 sutler to issue no rum to his men without written permission 
 from him. The men, not to be foiled, at once applied to him 
 for it, but Stark put them off, on the ground that his hand was 
 lame and he could not write. The Rangers were not in the 
 best of humors, when they saw the Irish troops, who composed 
 the remainder of the garrison, freely filling their bumpers with 
 fiery draughts in honor of St. Patrick's wife, and making the 
 fort ring with their hilarious songs and carousals. That night 
 the French, knowing the habit of the Irishmen, to celebrate the 
 occasion, made a terrific attack on the fort. But instead of 
 surprising a set of intoxicated fellows,, they were met at the 
 first onslaught by the cool and invincible Rangers. These men 
 bravely fought the enemy hand to hand, repelling assault after 
 assault, until their drunken companions could come to their 
 senses. The Rangers had saved the fort. 
 
 In May the Rangers were ordered to Halifax, to join in an 
 expedition against Louisburg. Their versatile talents were 
 employed during harvest, while the preparations for the expe 
 dition were going on, in making hay for the horses. The expe- 
 
 10 
 
182 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 dition was afterwards abandoned and the Rangers ordered to 
 Fort Edward. 
 
 On the 18th of December, 1757, Rogers led his men on a 
 lengthy scout. On their way, they for the first time since their 
 previous departure in April looked on Fort William Henry. 
 Then it had been a solid log structure, occupied by a large gar 
 rison, and supplied, as Rogers says, "with every thing they 
 could desire for their comfort and convenience." 
 
 We smile at a rough Ranger's notion of " comfort and con 
 venience." It was filled by a rude frontier fort, with its long 
 barrack rooms, the walls of logs, the floor of puncheon ; no ceil 
 ing but a smoky thatch, the cracks stuffed with mud and straw 
 to keep out the winter ; no windows except openings, closed with 
 heavy shutters ; no light or fire except from an immense fire-place 
 at one end, from which the heat was dissipated long before it 
 reached the frosty region at the opposite end; no fare but salt 
 pork, soup, and black bread, eaten at greasy log tables, twenty 
 inches wide, set with a gloomy array of battered iron plates and 
 cups. Yet to the Ranger, accustomed as he was to sleep often 
 in the snow, and pass days and nights without fire or shelter, 
 the rough fort, with its rougher company, was "every thing 
 he could desire for comfort and convenience." Looking back 
 to the luxury of their life in Fort William Henry, it was with 
 keen regrets that the Rangers now beheld it, a deserted ruin, 
 covered with half-burnt rafters and fragments of exploded cannon. 
 
 With a British army of six thousand men only fifteen miles 
 away, the French had, in the previous August, while the Rangers 
 were away, been allowed to besiege Fort Henry. After a 
 brave defense of six days, during which time the steady can 
 nonade from the besiegers' batteries had dismounted their guns 
 and rendered the place no longer tenable, its defenders had sur 
 rendered on condition of quarter. Whatever may have been 
 the wishes of the French commander, the Indian allies, of whom 
 was composed the principal part of his army, could not be 
 restrained from violating the condition. Many prisoners were 
 
ROGERS' S RANGERS. 183 
 
 massacred outright. Others were led away to suffer the exquisite 
 agonies of the stake. Worse and more horrible still, an Indian 
 tribe called the Cold Country 'Cannibals, who were present at 
 the siege, roasted their prisoners and ate them. For this state 
 ment there is unquestionable authority. 
 
 In spite of these terrible associations, the sturdy Rangers 
 entered the ruin, scraped away the heavy snow, and built fires 
 in the partial shelter of a corner which was yet standing, and 
 passed the night "comfortably," as Rogers says. As they con 
 tinued their scout, the Rangers met with fine success, and on 
 their return to Fort Edward, December 27th, they were enabled 
 to present the commandant with a fine Christmas gift of several 
 prisoners, who gave full and accurate information of the enemy. 
 During this winter a company of regular soldiers were placed 
 in Rogers's hands to learn Ranger tactics. For their benefit he 
 drew up a written code, which was published with his memoirs. 
 
 On the 10th of March, 1758, Rogers received orders to 
 march with one hundred and eighty Rangers to the neighbor 
 hood of Ticonderoga. He protested that the force was too 
 small, and asked to be allowed to take four hundred men, but 
 his requests were refused. The march was made along the 
 solid ice of the lake, the party lying concealed on shore during 
 the day and marching by night. Since the capture of Fort 
 Henry, the enemy had been exceedingly active, strong forces 
 of Indians scouring the country in every direction. 
 
 The nights were as dark as pitch, and while fifteen Rangers 
 on skates acted as an advance guard, the main body marched as 
 closely together as possible, to avoid separation. When within 
 eight miles of the French army, an advanced guardsman skated 
 swiftly to the rear with word to halt. The men were instantly 
 ordered to sit down on the ice. Rogers went forward. The 
 advance guard were called in, and thought they had seen a fire 
 on the east shore. The sleighs and baggage were hastily pulled 
 ashore, guards posted, and the main body marched swiftly for 
 ward to attack the supposed camp. No light was to be seen. 
 
184 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 At last, concluding that the guard had mistaken a patch of snow 
 or some rotten wood, which in the night has a phosphorescent 
 glow, for a hostile camp fire, the Rangers returned to their 
 packs, and passed the night on shore, without fire. The truth 
 was, the guard had seen a real camp fire, which had been extin 
 guished on the approach of the Rangers, and a hasty message 
 sent to the fort of their presence. In the morning it was thought 
 best to push on by land with snow-shoes, the snow being now 
 four feet deep. 
 
 Toward night word was brought that a band of ninety- six 
 Indians was approaching. On the left of the line of march, 
 was a small rivulet, and on the right a steep mountain. The 
 Rangers extended their line, and at the first fire killed fifty 
 Indians. Supposing this to be the entire force of the enemy, 
 the Rangers pressed on in pursuit, when suddenly they were 
 attacked by over six hundred well armed Indians and Cana 
 dians, who on receipt of the news of the Rangers' approach had 
 set out to attack them. Rogers shouted to his men to fall back 
 quickly to their former ground, but before they reached it the 
 life-blood of fifty gallant Rangers reddened the snow where they 
 had fallen. 
 
 With cool desperation they continued to fight for an hour, 
 against the overwhelming numbers of the foe. Small detach 
 ments were thrown out on the right and left to prevent flank 
 ing. But the contest was too unequal. One hundred and eight 
 out of the one hundred and eighty Rangers were killed on the 
 spot. Of these, ten men under Lieutenant Phillips, on the left 
 flank, had been surrounded and captured. They were tied to 
 trees in sight of their friends, and deliberately hacked to pieces 
 by the savages. 
 
 At last, Rogers cried to his men to fly, every one for him 
 self. Rogers himself, with twenty men, rushed to an icy preci 
 pice, over a hundred feet high, which sloped abruptly down to 
 the lake. Turning and firing on their pursuers, Rogers and his 
 followers deliberately jumped over the perilous precipice and 
 
KOGERS'S RANGERS. 185 
 
 slid down to the lake with terrific force. The spot is still 
 pointed out as "Rogers's Leap." By this exploit, these men, 
 though severely injured, escaped alive, one of their number 
 making his way to Fort Edward, and sending out a relief party 
 with sleighs and blankets. 
 
 But others were not so fortunate. Accompanying the 
 Rangers had been two British officers, Captains Creed and Kent, 
 who had gone out to study their mode of warfare. At the 
 beginning of the fight Rogers had advised them to retire, but 
 being unused to travel on snow-shoes, ignorant of the country, 
 and seeing their friends attacked by such a multitude of yelling 
 savages, painted in the most gaudy colors, they chose like brave 
 men to remain and fight. At the retreat, Rogers shouted to 
 them to fly with him, but in their efforts to escape their snow- 
 shoes came off, and the poor fellows sunk breast deep in the 
 soft surface. By the strangest good fortune the savages over 
 looked them in the fury of their pursuit after Rogers. Not till 
 the moon arose did they venture to stir. Then with fluttering 
 hearts they stole through the forest, knowing nothing of their 
 course, but hoping that it took them farther from the Indians. 
 When morning dawned, it found them still struggling on through 
 the snow, along the shore of some body of water. 
 
 As the fear of savages departed, another dreadful apprehen 
 sion laid hold of them. Which way was the fort? The dangers 
 of death from exposure or starvation stared them in the face. 
 Suddenly they saw a man. He came towards them. He proved 
 to be a servant of Rogers, and claimed to know their where 
 abouts and the way to the fort. He affirmed that they were 
 on South Bay and not Lake George. All day they followed 
 their guide, at first on the ice and then on foot, through the 
 slavish snow. 
 
 At night they halted. Creed and Kent had thrown off their 
 coats and fur caps in the battle, and had on only their vests. 
 Over their heads they tied handkerchiefs. For a single blanket 
 they would have given worlds. The third day the guide prom- 
 
186 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ised that the fort would be reached. But at sunset their weary 
 eyes beheld nothing but the same vast expanse of whiteness. 
 The fourth day he said it would be impossible to fail, but the 
 day passed with the prophecy unfulfilled. Again and again 
 their snow-shoes broke. Again and again, with benumbed fin 
 gers they tried to tie and patch them up. Every few paces 
 they sank up to the breast in the snow. The hardships were 
 intolerable. They scrambled up mountains full of dangerous 
 chasms and hidden holes. They made detours to avoid impas 
 sable forests of fallen timber, prostrated by some tornado. 
 
 At the outset their entire stock of food had been a link of 
 bologna sausage and a little ginger. This had long since been 
 exhausted, and for two days they had lived on some frozen 
 berries and water. Their nights had been passed without cover, 
 and with tlie scantiest fires ; for without a hatchet, by their 
 utmost efforts, they could only wrench a few twigs from the 
 frozen trees for fuel. During the fifth day they struggled 
 along a dreadful road in the mountains, with only one snow- 
 shoe apiece. 
 
 Towards noon on the sixth day they came once more to the 
 ice. At a single glance the unfortunate men perceived it to be the 
 same spot which they had left four days before. This terrible dis 
 covery paralyzed them with horror. Their only chance was to 
 throw themselves into the hands of the French at Fort Carillon. 
 All day and night the wind blew hard, and a freezing rain 
 incrusted their clothes with ice. The remainder of the sad 
 story we give in Captain Creed's own words. 
 
 "We traveled a few miles, but the snow driving full in our 
 faces, made every thing appear as dark as the fog upon the 
 banks of Newfoundland. As the storm cleared up we looked 
 in vain for the fort. Proceeding onward by land we came to a 
 large waterfall. I attempted to ford the stream above it, and 
 had almost gained the opposite shore where the water reached 
 my breast, when the rapidity of the stream hurried me off the 
 slippery rocks and plunged me under water. I lost my fusee, 
 
ROGERS'S RANGERS. 187 
 
 and narrowly escaped being carried over the fall. Mr. Kent 
 and the guide fared no better, but the hopes of reaching a fire 
 made us think lightly of the matter. 
 
 "As night approached we labored through the snow, being 
 now certain that the fort was near ; but our guide now con 
 fessed for the first time that he was at a loss. We plainly per 
 ceived that his brain was affected ; he saw Indians all around 
 him, and, though we have since learned that we had every thing 
 to fear from them, yet that was a danger we did not think of. 
 We even shouted to give notice where we were, but could 
 neither see nor hear of any one to lead us right. If we halted 
 we became pillars of ice. We therefore resolved to make a fire, 
 though the danger was apparent. We had one dry cartridge on 
 hand, but in trying to catch a fire with a little of it, by means 
 of my pistol, Mr. Kent held the cartridge so near as to have it 
 blow up in our faces, almost blinding him and causing great 
 pain. This appeared to be the last stroke of fortune. 
 
 " We had now no hopes of fire and were not anxious for life, 
 but wished to carry the scene out in a manner becoming to sol 
 diers. We made a path round a tree and there exercised all 
 night, though scarcely able to stand or to prevent each other 
 from sleeping. Our guide, notwithstanding repeated cautions, 
 strayed from us, sat down, and died immediately. On the 
 morning of the 20th we saw the fort, and approached it with a 
 white flag. The officers ran violently toward us, and we were 
 saved from a danger we did not apprehend, for we were informed 
 that if the Indians, who were close after them, had seized us 
 first, it would not have been in the power of the French, to 
 have prevented our being hurried to the camp, and perhaps the 
 next day to Montreal, or killed for not being able to march." 
 
 The prisoners were afterwards exchanged by the French. 
 
 From this time on in the war the Rangers operated in larger 
 bodies and in more important movements. All the companies 
 were concentrated at Fort Edward. Rogers was raised to the rank 
 of major. Their history during the years of 1758 and 1759 is 
 
188 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 full of romance, adventure, and excitement. When we pass it 
 over, we leave out their heroic service in the fatal attack of the 
 British on Fort Ticonderoga, from which the army retreated, 
 leaving two thousand of their number slain. We omit, too, the 
 thrilling story of their exploits in the triumphant expedition 
 against Crown Point. In these movements the Rangers formed 
 a part of the general army, whose defeats and victories are a 
 part of history. 
 
 When the British occupied Crown Point, they dispatched a 
 messenger with a flag of truce and proposals of peace to the 
 St. Francis Indians. They dwelt in the heart of Canada, mid 
 way between Montreal and Quebec, at a point three miles from 
 the St. Lawrence River. They were notoriously attached to 
 the French, and no other six tribes of Indians combined had 
 done the English more injury than the single one of St. Fran 
 cis. Their unspeakable ferocity, their exhaustless hatred and 
 malicious industry, had resulted in the murder of over six hun 
 dred colonists during the years of the war. On the 13th of 
 September the commandant of Crown Point learned that his 
 messenger, bearing the flag of truce, had been coolly taken 
 prisoner and subjected to insult and indignity. Shortly after 
 receipt of this news an orderly handed Major Rogers the 
 following : 
 
 " You are this night to take a detachment of two hundred 
 picked Rangers and proceed to Missisqui Bay, from which you 
 will proceed to attack the .enemy at the settlements of the St. 
 Francis Indians, on the south side of the St. Lawrence River, 
 in 'such a manner as shall most effectually disgrace and injure 
 the enemy and redound to the honor and success of his maj 
 esty's arms. Remember the barbarities committed by the 
 enemy's Indian scoundrels on every occasion where they have 
 had opportunities of showing their infamous cruelties toward 
 his majesty's subjects. Take your revenge, but remember 
 that, although the villains have promiscuously murdered women 
 and children of all ages, it is my order that no women or chil- 
 
ROGERS' S RANGERS. 189 
 
 dren should be killed or hurt. When you have performed this 
 service, you will again join the army, wherever it may be. 
 
 "Yours, etc., JEFF. AMHERST. 
 
 " Camp at Crown Point, Sept. 13, 1759. 
 "To MAJOR ROGERS." 
 
 What a commission ! Two hundred men ordered to make a 
 journey of more than three hundred miles, through a country 
 barren of provisions, and occupied by the whole French and 
 Indian army of fifteen thousand men; when at that distance 
 from support and their base of supplies, to attack and destroy 
 by stealth a powerful tribe of Indians, which had been a terror 
 through the whole war, and after all this to effect a retreat 
 by the same tremendous journey, only through a hostile country 
 aroused by a knowledge of their presence, and exerting every 
 effort to destroy them. 
 
 That night as the moon arose the little band sallied from 
 the fort, and, with firm tread and rigid countenances, swiftly 
 embarked in a fleet of canoes. Their progress down the lake 
 was itself one of difficulty and danger. Its waters were 
 patrolled incessantly by hostile schooners, armed with cannon, 
 and other mischievous engines of war, for the discovery and 
 destruction of the English. By night only did the Rangers 
 advance. 
 
 On the fifth day a keg of gunpowder exploded in their 
 camp, injuring a number of men, who, together with some sick, 
 were forced to return to Crown Point, making a defection of 
 forty-four men, one-fourth of the entire company. At the end 
 of ten days, Rogers, having successfully eluded the enemy, 
 landed at Missisqui Bay. Here he stored the boats and provi 
 sions enough to take the Rangers back to Crown Point. Two 
 trusty Indians were left in charge, with orders to remain until 
 their return, unless the enemy should discover the boats and 
 strike the trail of the Rangers. In this case the two guards 
 were to follow the Rangers at the top of their speed, bringing 
 the fatal news. 
 
190 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 On the evening of the second day, as the Rangers went 
 into camp, the two Indians left behind came running in, breath 
 less and excited. Four hundred French and Indians had dis 
 covered the boats and destroyed them, and two hundred of 
 them were now in pursuit of the Rangers. "This," says the 
 dauntless Rogers, " caused us some uneasiness. Should the 
 enemy overtake us, and we have the advantage in an encounter, 
 they would be immediately re-enforced, while we could expect 
 no assistance, being so far advanced beyond our military posts ; 
 and our boats and provision likewise being taken, cut off all 
 hope of retreat by the route we came." 
 
 A hurried council of war was held. The situation was des 
 perate. But the motto of Rogers was, " In boldness lies safety." 
 It was determined to push on to their destination, at the high 
 est possible speed, avoiding an encounter, simply by out-march 
 ing their pursuers, strike their blow at the St. Francis settle 
 ments, and retreat quickly. The survivors were to make their 
 way back by the roundabout route of the Connecticut River. 
 Lieutenant McMullen was dispatched to Crown Point, to inform 
 General Amherst of the disaster, and have him send relief and 
 provisions at the Ammonoosuck River, " that being the way we 
 should return, if we ever did return at all." 
 
 These arrangements were quickly made. McMullen, with a 
 small sack of food, started back on his lonely journey to Crown 
 Point ; the others hurriedly prepared for the race with their 
 pursuers. No sleep that night; the sunrise must find them 
 many a mile on their way. Much of the time they advanced 
 in double quick time, the hardy Rangers' being able to run for 
 hours in a sort of dog-trot. After the first night's march they 
 uniformly began their day's advance one hour before dawn, and 
 continued it without halt, their meals being eaten as they 
 marched, until one hour after dark. 
 
 Nine days they marched through a spruce bog, where the 
 ground was low and swampy, the greater part being covered 
 with water a foot deep. When the weary Rangers encamped 
 
ROGER&S RANGERS. 191 
 
 at night, it was necessary to go into the darkened forest and 
 cut boughs from the trees and construct a kind of hammock to 
 protect themselves from the water. The day before their des 
 tination was reached, they came upon the St. Francis River, 
 with its swift current. Placing the tallest men up stream, and 
 joining hands in a single line, the entire company passed the 
 ford in safety. Their only loss was a few guns, which were 
 recovered by diving to the bottom of the river. Towards even 
 ing of the twenty-second day from their departure from Crown 
 Point, when the scout, as usual, climbed a tall tree for recon- 
 noissance, he saw at a distance of three miles the unconscious 
 village of the St. Francis Indians, over which hung the light 
 ning-charged clouds of doom. 
 
 The Rangers were ordered to refresh themselves, and pre 
 pare for action on the following morning. Every gun was 
 carefully dried and freshly loaded; ammunition bags were 
 replenished, and such readjustment of clothing made as was 
 possible. While the men rolled themselves in their blankets 
 for a sound sleep, Rogers and two trusty companions stole out 
 under the starry sky towards the fated settlement. As they 
 drew softly near, wild shouts of merriment issued from the 
 wigwams. Around enormous fires were dancing in frantic glee 
 hilarious circles of warriors and maidens. It was a wedding 
 dance. These wild Indians had turned aside, for the moment, 
 from thoughts of war and bloodshed to the mild gentleness of 
 love. A noble brave had chosen to himself a dusky bride. The 
 chord of sentiment touched at the incident still trembled respon 
 sive in the savage breasts. Their festivities were bright, inno 
 cent, and happy, shining like a star in the midst of all the gloom 
 and blackness of their lives. 
 
 All unconscious of their danger, the dance went on, each 
 moment with madder, merrier glee. The squaws ran about, 
 serving to all who wished the rare bounties of the wedding 
 feast. The old men stood apart from the revelers, smoking 
 their pipes. Ever and anon their stately dignity gave way to 
 
192 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 unwonted outbursts of hideous laughter. Within the wigwam 
 of the bride and groom, was dispensed with careless hand the 
 blazing draughts of rum to the happy throng. 
 
 At last these potations began to have their effect. One after 
 another of the braves staggered to his wigwam, and sunk into 
 drunken slumber. The fires burned lower. The circle of dan 
 cers grew smaller, until only a handful of uproarious fellows 
 and their girls kept up their shrieking orgies. At two o'clock 
 in the morning Rogers and his companions returned quickly to 
 their camp. A shake of the shoulder and a whispered command 
 roused each sleeping Ranger to his feet. Blankets were hastily 
 rolled up, packs adjusted, and guns examined. A frugal meal 
 was eaten standing. 
 
 By three o'clock the Rangers were in motion for the village. 
 With stealthy step they advanced to within a quarter of a mile. 
 Another halt was made. Rogers crawled forward to make 
 another reconnoissance. Meanwhile the men lay flat on their 
 faces. At five o'clock Rogers returned. The feast had ended. 
 The last reveler was wrapped in oblivion, and the entire settle 
 ment was asleep. The Rangers were disencumbered of all their 
 packs. Weapons formed their only load. The men were formed 
 in three columns. They were to fall on the settlement on three 
 sides at once. 
 
 The first faint flush of dawn reddening the east had only 
 obscured a few stars as the men moved rapidly forward through 
 the frosty air. When the settlement was reached each man 
 knew his work. The nearest wigwams were entered. In a 
 moment the throat of every sleeping warrior was cut from ear 
 to ear. The knife only was used as yet. No guns were fired. 
 In this way the deadly Rangers had massacred two-thirds of 
 the warriors in the settlement before a single note of alarm. 
 Many children and squaws, who slept soundly, were left undis 
 turbed. Such was the case with the new bride, whom they 
 found locked in her husband's arms. Poor sleeper; too soon, 
 alas, too soon, would she awaken to find all joy, all light, all 
 
ROGER&S RANGERS. 195 
 
 love, gone out from life. If, perchance, a child's wide wonder 
 ing eyes opened as the glittering knife swept across its father's 
 throat, it was the work of an instant to gag its mouth and hand 
 it over as a prisoner. 
 
 At last, the groans of some dying brave, or the screams of 
 an awakened squaw, gave the alarm. Small time was there for 
 the warriors to reach for weapons. Their only safety lay in 
 flight. Only one side lay open ; that was the river. But as 
 the canoes of the frightened savages pushed out into the cur 
 rent, the swift messengers of lead sped from the gun of the 
 destroyers and stilled every noble form in death. Five English 
 captives were found and rescued. The scalps of more than six 
 hundred murdered white men hung from the wigwam poles. 
 These sights were not unnoticed by the Rangers. SnatcKing 
 brands from the smouldering embers of the wedding fires, the 
 wigwams were ignited. Black volumes of smoke, pierced by 
 forked tongues of flame, rolled upward to the peaceful sky of 
 the morning, and draped its blue canopy with the mournful 
 color which all the world has chosen for the sign of sorrow. 
 
 By seven o'clock, with the exception of three wigwams, pre 
 served for their own shelter, the Rangers had utterly destroyed 
 the village and its inhabitants. Two hundred wariors had been 
 slain, while of their own number but one had been killed and 
 two or three wounded. From their prisoners, who, excepting 
 two Indian boys and three girls, were shortly set at liberty, 
 Rogers learned that his pursuers had missed him; but that 
 their messengers had sent word of his approach ; that only four 
 miles down the river were a force of five hundred French and 
 Indians, waiting at a settlement which was supposed to be 
 Rogers's destination, instead of the St. Francis settlement. 
 While this examination took place, the Rangers supplied them 
 selves with corn from the granaries of the village. A council 
 of war determined that instant retreat by way of the Connecticut 
 River and Number Four must be begun. 
 
 The hardships of the retreat far exceeded those of the 
 
196 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 advance. The way led over barren mountains and through 
 endless swamps. In one of these morasses, trusting an Indian 
 squaw for guidance, they were led about three days, and brought 
 back to their own tracks, to gain time for their pursuers. After 
 eight days' travel, provisions gave out, and the Rangers divided 
 into small companies of eight or ten each, for procuring sub 
 sistence from roots and berries. 
 
 One of these detachments, lingering behind the rest, was 
 surprised by the enemy, and seven of their men taken prisoner. 
 Two other detachments, similarly attacked, had nearly all their 
 number slain. Some of the men, being still in fair condition, 
 preferred to make their way directly to Crown Point. The 
 bulk of the company, however, was to rendezvous at the mouth 
 of the Ammonoosuck River, a hundred miles above Number 
 Four (now Charleston, New Hampshire), where Rogers con 
 fidently expected provisions and relief, in accordance with the 
 message sent to Crown Point by McMullen, after the news of 
 the destruction of their boats. 
 
 When at last the straggling companies of wretched men 
 reached the rendezvous, they found camp fires still burning, but 
 no succor. They fired their guns, and shouted for help, but 
 only the mocking echoes of the forest answered them. Not 
 till some time later did they learn that in accordance with 
 McMullen's message provisions had been sent to this spot in 
 charge of a Lieutenant Stevens. Arriving there and not find 
 ing Rogers, the fellow thought proper, after waiting only two 
 days, to return, taking his provisions with him. His departure 
 took place just two hours before the exhausted and famished 
 Rangers arrived. The signal guns fired by the latter were 
 heard by Stevens, but only served to hasten his march, as he 
 believed them to be fired by Indians. 
 
 The disappointment was cruel. It was evident that the 
 men who, nerved by the hope of succor, had exhausted all their 
 little remaining strength to reach this point, could proceed no 
 farther. Relief must be had, or the whole party die in the 
 
ROGERS 1 S RANGERS. 197 
 
 wilderness. "In this emergency," says Rogers, "I resolved to 
 make the best of my way to Number Four, leaving the remainder 
 of the party, now unable to proceed any farther, to obtain such 
 wretched subsistence as the wilderness afforded, until I could 
 relieve them, which I promised to do in ten days. Captain 
 Ogden, myself, and a captive Indian boy, embarked upon a raft 
 of dry pine trees. The current carried us down the stream in the 
 middle of the river, where we kept our miserable vessel with 
 such paddles as could be split and hewn with small hatchets. 
 
 "The second day we reached White River Falls, and very 
 narrowly escaped running over them. The raft went over, and 
 was lost, but our remaining strength enabled us to land and 
 march by the falls. At the foot of them Captain Ogden and 
 the Ranger killed some red squirrels, and also a partridge, while 
 I attempted to construct another raft. Not being able to cut 
 the trees, I burnt them down, and burnt them at proper lengths. 
 This was our third day's work after leaving our companions. 
 
 " The next day we floated down to Nattoquichie Falls, which 
 are about fifty yards in length. Here we landed, and Captain 
 Ogden held the raft by a withe of hazel bushes, while I went 
 below the falls to swim in, board, and paddle it ashore; this 
 being our only hope for life, as we had not strength sufficient 
 to make a new raft should this be lost. I succeeded in secur 
 ing it, and next morning we floated down within a short di^- 
 tance of Number Four. Here we found several men cuttfets 
 timber, who relieved and assisted us to the fort. A cit oi 
 was immediatly dispatched up the river with provu 
 reached the men at Coos in four days after, whljy^^T which 
 my agreement, was the tenth after I left t^Taccording to 
 afterwards I went up the river with two oth^ em - Two da J s 
 others of my party who might be coming/ 1 " canoes to relieve 
 
 Relief parties were also sent out in (f^at way. 
 up stragglers. Slowly the haggard mA ther directions to hunt 
 fort at Number Four. It was two fer were gathered at the 
 
 recovered sufficiently to proceed to C/ jnths before the 7 had 
 
 jwn Point. 
 
198 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 With this story of the unfortunate expedition against the 
 St. Francis Indians, a military exploit which, for boldness and 
 dexterity, is hardly equaled in the history of our country, our 
 recital of the story of Rogers's Rangers must close. They 
 continued their operations until the close of the war in 1760, 
 when they were directed to take formal possession of all the 
 French forts west of the Alleghanies, in accordance with their 
 surrender by France. 
 
 After performing this duty with approved success, Major 
 Rogers went to England, where he resided till the opening of 
 the Revolutionary War. -He then returned to America, and 
 visited the American camp, but was refused admission by Gen 
 eral Washington, who suspected him as a British spy. Rogers 
 was, however, visited by Colonel Stark, and other old Kangers, 
 who had since enlisted in the cause of the colonies. He seemed 
 greatly chagrined by Washington's treatment, and soon after 
 joined Lord Howe, who commanded the British army. In a 
 short time, however, he returned to England, and never again 
 visited the land in which he had won undying fame. It was 
 the opinion of General Stark, and other friends, that Washing 
 ton misjudged Rogers, and that he would have proved a true 
 and valuable soldier in the American army had he not been 
 
 tmis trusted. He was denounced as a Tory before he had declared 
 
 Mis principles. 
 
 chai 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 
 
 199 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 
 
 t j.T is only adventurers who have adventures. 
 Quiet men have quiet lives. It is the dare 
 devil who is the hero of thrilling exploits and 
 startling situations. The dangers of frontier 
 life attract only the boldest spirits. For these 
 reasons it is, that early American history con 
 tains more romance, more adventure and more 
 excitement than the annals of any other period 
 or place. The colonies were populated with 
 brave, adventurous men, the most daring spirits of the age. Such 
 men as these were sure to find themselves in exciting situ 
 ations and to perform heroic deeds. 
 
 Other countries and peoples than ours have had to gratify 
 the appetite for adventure with fictitious exploits and imagi 
 nary heroes. The French feast on such unsubstantial banquets 
 as the wild and improbable feats of the mysterious Count of 
 Monte Christo, and the feverish tragedy of the Wandering Jew. 
 Englishmen revel in the romance of chivalry and of the Middle 
 Ages, as pictured in "Ivanhoe," "The Black Dwarf," and the 
 " Idyls of the King." America, however, has within her reach, 
 not only the brilliant literature of fancy, but the equally thril 
 ling and far more substantial stories of the feats of our fathers 
 upon the frontier. 
 
 The personal characters of these dauntless men, their inex 
 haustible resources, their marvelous facility of adaptation, is 
 11 
 
200 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 nowhere better shown than in the stories of their captivities. 
 To give just a taste of this racy food, we present the stories* of 
 three of them, taken prisoner at different times and under dif 
 ferent circumstances, during the French and Indian war. 
 
 MAJOE ROBERT STOBO, 
 
 a brave and generous Scotchman, was appointed one of the 
 officers in the little company with which George Washington, in 
 1754, attempted to protect the fort at the forks of the Ohio. 
 He traveled in great style, in a covered wagon with a dozen 
 servants, and keeping a sumptuous table, adorned with spark 
 ling wines and smoking dishes of game. When Washington 
 was surrounded at Fort Necessity, he negotiated a surrender, 
 by the terms of which his men were allowed to retreat unharmed 
 from the Ohio valley, and certain French captives were to be 
 restored. As a guarantee for the latter condition, our gallant 
 Stobo was handed over as a hostage to the French at Fort 
 du Quesne. 
 
 The governor of Virginia refused to carry out Washington's 
 promises, and one pleasant morning Stobo found himself a gen 
 uine prisoner. McKnight furnishes us with a graphic outline 
 of his adventures, which we use with slight abridgment or 
 change. Stobo at once began to reflect how he could throw 
 Fort du Quesne into the hands of the English. He wrote let 
 ters to Washington, giving a full plan of the fort, information 
 as to its garrison, and urging in the most strenuous manner that 
 an expedition be fitted out at once for the capture of the fort. 
 These letters he intrusted to Indian messengers, staking his life 
 on their fidelity. The messengers kept faith. The letters 
 reached Washington all right, but no expedition could be fitted 
 out that year. Meanwhile Stobo was sent to Quebec. 
 
 Although a prisoner, Stobo's gay and popular manners, his 
 genial nature and his society accomplishments secured him every 
 privilege. He was the boon companion of the army officers, 
 and the favored gallant of every lovely lady in Quebec. Care- 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 201 
 
 less and gay, he determined to add to his accomplishments a 
 knowledge of the French language. At this announcement all 
 the salons of the city applauded. Stobo reigned without a 
 rival. 
 
 But a change came o'er the spirit of his dreams. Braddock 
 had marched to the forks of the Ohio, carrying with him Stobo's 
 letters, as a guide in the attack. By strange fatuity, these com 
 promising epistles, which had escaped falling into the hands of the 
 French when it might have been expected, now that their writer 
 was seven hundred miles away, and had forgotten all about 
 them, were left among the baggage piled helter-skelter in the 
 bloody defile, where Braddock's army was destroyed. Here 
 they were found by the victors. 
 
 Stobo took no more lessons in French from his amorous 
 lady loves. He was clapped into prison as a spy, and notified 
 that he would be tried for his life. 
 
 He effected his escape from prison, but a reward of six 
 thousand livres, offered to any who would bring him in alive 
 or dead, filled the woods with thousands of eager persons, and 
 he was soon caught and thrust into a black, horrible dungeon. 
 He found nothing but cold stone to sit or lie on, and on the 
 floor was daily placed an earthen pan with bread and water for 
 his sustenance. In this dark and dismal dungeon his eyes soon 
 acquired such power that he could discern a rat running over 
 the floor, a feat for which his opportunities were ample. 
 
 In November our hero was brought before the military court, 
 and after a brief, stern trial, sentenced to death. The day for 
 his execution was fixed, and he was remanded to prison. But 
 his indomitable heart was yet unshaken, and he busied himself 
 meditating over plans of escape. The judgment of the court, 
 however, was not approved by King Louis, and the dungeon 
 was exchanged for a jail, with two vigilant sentinels at the 
 door, and two below the single window. 
 
 Many were his plans for 'escape. The window offered him 
 the best chance. He found it firmly barred with iron up and 
 
202 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 down, but not across. He must cut a groove in the hard stone, 
 so as to throw one of the bars aside. He had but a sorry knife, 
 round at the point, and as it would imperil all to make a noise, 
 his business must be done by careful, silent rubbing. The work 
 went slowly on. Meanwhile, he must gather provisions for his 
 long journey. He managed to secrete a sort of knapsack, and 
 on the stove he parched grain to carry with him. His room 
 was always open to his jailers, and he had to fill the groove as 
 fast as he made it by stuffing it with chewed bread, which was 
 then covered with sand or ashes. Sometimes the grating noise 
 would bring in the jailer, but the groove was so neatly con 
 cealed and the major was generally found sitting so calmly, 
 walking, smoking, or reading, that, after peering around the 
 room with jealous eye, the jailer was fain to depart with 
 shaking head. 
 
 At length the groove was done ; the bar had room to play, 
 but being short and fast at top, the Major could not bend it. 
 Tying his handkerchief around the two bars, he inserted a 
 stick, and by twisting it about had leverage enough to bring 
 the bars together. The knapsack was now stored with over 
 thirty pounds of various kinds of provisions, which he had 
 managed to secrete, and all was ready for the escape. 
 
 The 30th of April was a horrible day of wind and rain and 
 hail. The night was no better. The sleepy sentries, suspecting 
 naught, sought favorable shelter from the wretched weather. 
 Stobo's eyes were on guard, and as soon as he saw the place 
 deserted he knew his time had come. Hurriedly tying about 
 him his knapsack and applying the handkerchief tourniquet, a 
 passage was soon opened, and down he jumped into the mud 
 below, and disappeared in the night. Far above the town he 
 took refuge in a farmer's outhouse and anxiously awaited the 
 chance for escape. His flight was at once detected ; again six 
 thousand livres were offered for his arrest, and the whole town 
 turned out for the search. For two days the major lay snug. 
 At midnight he stole stealthily out, and made straight for 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 203 
 
 Charles River, crossed it with knapsack on his head, the water 
 coming up to his chin. He had proceeded to a point eight 
 miles below Quebec, when just as he had set foot on the great 
 road, he spied some gentlemen riding towards him, who unfor 
 tunately were just as quick in spying him, and made hard 
 after him. He was caught and dragged back to prison. 
 
 His biographer thus quaintly laments this sad relapse into 
 captivity : " Ill-used before, better could not be hoped for ; he 
 sickens at the thought of his sad fate ; a dreary while for him 
 to linger out in sad despondency, well barred and bolted in 
 with treble vigilance. A long, long summer and a dismal 
 winter were to come, and these, for what he knew, might be 
 repeated, if life so long would stay. He could not stand the 
 thought, his spirits failed him, his looks grew pale j corroding, 
 pensive thought sat brooding on his forehead, and left it all in 
 wrinkles ; his long, black hair grows like a badger gray, his body 
 to a shadow wastes, and ere the winter came with her keen edge 
 of hardened cold, his health was gone ; yet he must struggle 
 still with the remaining span of life, for out he must not come, 
 and he's given up for dead. 
 
 " There dwelt, by lucky fate, in this strong capital, a lady 
 fair, of chaste renown ; of manners sweet, and gentle soul ; long 
 had her heart confessed for this poor prisoner a flame, best 
 suited with the spirit of the times to smother, whose tender 
 heart felt double smart at this his deep affliction, which threat 
 ened certain death; her kindred was confessed, and influence, 
 too, well known with Vaudreuil, and, strange speech of love, 
 thus she accosts the proud Canadian viceroy," etc. 
 
 We need not give this tender love song, but the burden of 
 it was an urgent appeal to change the major's prison, and give 
 him exercise and good air, and so a chance for his life. The 
 prayer prevailed. The wan and wasted prisoner was allowed 
 to 'walk the ramparts. By the care of this kind lady and 
 her daughter, the major's health recovered by degrees, and he 
 became very watchful and studious to disarm all suspicion. 
 
204 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The months passed on, and Stobo made the acquaintance of 
 some English prisoners brought in, among others a Scotchman, 
 by the name of Clarke, a ship carpenter by trade, who, by a 
 facile and timely change of religion, was released, and was soon 
 employed at work in the ship-yard. 
 
 With this man and another prisoner, by the name of Ste 
 venson, he concocted a new scheme. In order to dismiss his 
 kind lady attendant, he feigned illness. Instead of going to 
 bed, however, he dressed in a plain, coarse workman's dress, 
 incased his head in a thick worsted wig, and quietly stole down 
 the stairs, past the rooms of the family that had been so kind 
 to him, out into the garden, and leaped the wall. 
 
 No sooner out of town than he quickened his pace and 
 made his way to a little windmill on the river, which was 
 fixed as the rendezvous for the whole escaping party. He 
 found them all there, with guns, ammunition, and provisions. 
 March was the word, and Stobo, as leader of this gallant 
 little band of five, moved along the river for a couple of miles, 
 hoping to find some vessel by which to escape. At length 
 they came across a large birch canoe, which they carried to 
 the water, and all safely embarked. With nimble hands they 
 plied the paddles and flew down the strong current of the 
 St. Lawrence. By daylight Quebec was left far behind, and 
 they sought the protection of the woods, carrying their canoe 
 with them. As before, the major's flight was early discovered. 
 This time the search was fruitless. The little party lay 
 by quietly during each day, but as night came on they would 
 again launch their bark upon the river. 
 
 On the eleventh night, as they paddled out into the broad 
 St. Lawrence, they encountered a violent storm. The canoe 
 filled with water, and they tried in vain to make the shore, 
 but passed the night, tossed like a cork upon the waters, and 
 only saved from wreck by tfnintermitting bailing. A pierc 
 ing cold now set in, freezing their drenched clothes to their 
 backs. By morning they succeeded in again reaching shore, 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 205 
 
 but in a most sorry plight. Their frozen garments rattled 
 like coats of mail, scarce one could lift a limb, and a mother 
 and children, who formed part of their crew, were almost dead. 
 Two of the men, going out for game, soon ran back, frightened 
 by the appearance of two armed savages. Stobo reassured 
 them, and demanded to be led to a sight of them, thinking 
 that if they were scouts for a larger party, it might be nec 
 essary to cut them off. They soon came upon the two unsus 
 pecting savages, when Stobo broke out into a French cantata, 
 and saluting the savages in French, seized the gun of one, 
 while Stevenson grappled him and Clarke the other. Stobo 
 then said they were Frenchmen, but in search of English pris 
 oners who had escaped, and that he must be sure who they 
 were. They were much alarmed, and offered to lead the way 
 to their tent and to the fire, of which they were the guardians, 
 so that the whole country might be alarmed at the advance up 
 the river of any hostile British fleet. These fires, they said, 
 were placed at regular distances from the mouth of the St. 
 Lawrence to Quebec, so that news could be speedily carried of 
 any hostile invasion. 
 
 The wigwam was found full of furs, wild duck, and maple 
 sugar, and the major's party began to rifle it. The Indians now 
 realized their mistake, and the one Stevenson held gave a back 
 ward spring and set up a dreadful yell. To prevent any further 
 noise, Stevenson had to shoot his man, and his comrade was 
 soon made to share his fate. The camp again reached, Stobo 
 thought it was imprudent to leave the bodies unburied, and sent 
 back Clarke and another to inter them, which they did by fast 
 ening a heavy stone to the feet of each, and, having carefully 
 removed the scalps, shoving them into a deep, black pool of 
 water. Their poor, faithful dog, which sat howling on the 
 margin of the pool, was also shot. 
 
 They now saw out in the river a fleet of French transports, 
 with a convoy, ferrying their slow way up to Quebec. One ship 
 in the rear, judged by her size to be that of the commodore of 
 
206 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the fleet, was lying to. Stobo concluded that she had seen 
 their smoke and had sent her boat ashore to learn the meaning 
 of it. The fire, therefore, was put out, and the canoe and bag 
 gage moved off into the woods, and then a roundabout course 
 taken to the river again. They now espied a large four-oared 
 bateau rowing for the shore and no ship in view. "Courage, 
 my lads !" cried the fearless Stobo. " I hope, by your assist 
 ance and God's blessing on our arms, this prize shall be our 
 own ; these men our prisoners, too, and they shall lessen your 
 fatigue and row for us ; observe but what I order, and leave 
 the rest to me." 
 
 Stobo's party now lay closely concealed among some rocks 
 while the boat's crew pulled briskly in. Scarce had the prow 
 bumped the beach when a volley was sent in among them, by 
 which two were wounded. The astonished Frenchmen at once 
 cried out for quarter. The major and his companions rushed 
 down from the rocks, and ordered out the whole five. A rever 
 end old gentleman, who was steering, stepped out with a polite 
 bow of submission, and very naturally asked whose prisoner he 
 was. The major answered in French that they were British 
 subjects, who had been prisoners in Canada, and told them that 
 they and their boat must aid their escape. To this the old 
 Frenchman replied, he had been a long distance down the river, 
 and was returning with his boat laden with wheat; that he was 
 the Chevalier La Darante, and sole owner of the Camaraski 
 Isles, and that, in addition to all this, he was old and feeble, 
 and, therefore, should well be excused from being compelled to 
 row his enemies. 
 
 To all which the major answered that if he were King Louis 
 himself, and each of his crew a peer of the realm, he would 
 have to row them. This ended the matter. As the shallop 
 was too deep-laden for expedition, much of the wheat was cast 
 out, and, all hands embarking, the boat left the shore, the faith 
 ful canoe dragging astern. Thus doubly manned, they could 
 relieve the oars as well as attend the sail, which was now set 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 207 
 
 to a favoring gale, and away they sped again down the St. 
 Lawrence. Finding the canoe impeding the shallop's speed, it 
 was cut loose and turned adrift. 
 
 To lie by in the day was now impossible, neither did the 
 major like much to trust his prisoners ashore. About noon 
 they noted a lofty frigate, which had been convoy to the fleet 
 of transports. This sudden and dreadful apparition gave no 
 small alarm. Since they could not stand a fight, a run was 
 resolved upon. Stobo took the helm, and ordered all to pull 
 hard and to spread the sail, so as to pass the frigate's stern. 
 
 The usual signal to heave to came from the frigate, but the 
 party paid it no attention; a second followed, which was like 
 wise disregarded. The third report came accompanied by a 
 shot which whizzed over their heads uncomfortably near. Then 
 followed shot after shot, as long as the boat was in sight. The 
 boat flew along, continuing on its course all night. The old 
 Chevalier's remonstrance as to the hardships and indignities he 
 was compelled to undergo passed unheeded. "II est fortune 
 de guerre, monsieur" was all the reply vouchsafed by the 
 major. 
 
 Days sped on. Capes, islands, and mountains were passed, 
 one by one, but fortunately no sail was met. At length, a boat 
 was found upon the beach, and Stobo told the Chevalier that he 
 would let him go. All things being ready, the two parties took 
 separate ways. Stobo's boat continued along all night. With 
 the morning they espied abreast of them a ship at anchor, and 
 heard the signal to heave to. This they declined, when a 
 swivel, loaded with grape, opened fire, and after that another, 
 completely riddling their sail, but doing no further damage. On 
 they pushed, all that day and the next, but after that they were 
 not quite so fortunate. Toward evening a dreadful storm arose. 
 At the point they now were, the St. Lawrence was very broad, 
 and the waves ran as high as upon the ocean, while the surf 
 was quite as loud and dangerous. To beach the boat, however, 
 was the only salvation for them, and straight to shore they let 
 
208 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 her drive. Near the shore she came upon a rock with a dread 
 ful shock, bursting open the boat's bows and filling her with 
 water. The boat was completely demolished. Soaking as they 
 were, a wet and dreary night was passed. 
 
 Next morning the boat's wreck was hauled ashore, and all, 
 under the direction of Clarke, the ship carpenter, set to work 
 to make it sea-worthy again. With wistful search they scanned 
 the shore for nails and pieces of board to patch the old hulk. 
 Eight days were spent in this tedious and disheartening work, 
 and the stock of provisions was getting fearfully low. At length 
 the boat was ready for the first pitch and oakum, carefully gath 
 ered from sticks found along many miles of shore. Stockings, 
 handkerchiefs, and other articles of dress were used to stuif the 
 joints, and the frail cutter was ready for launching. 
 
 Just as this interesting ceremony was about to be performed, 
 two sails were seen standing down the river, and, finally, their 
 anchors were dropped right off the point where the crazy vessel 
 sat upon the stocks. 
 
 At this crisis Stobo conceived a desperate scheme. . Order 
 ing his companions to lie still, he ran forward to the shore, 
 fired his gun and waved his handkerchief. The signal was 
 answered from the ship, a* boat was lowered, and manned by 
 two men and a" boy, rowed within a short distance of the shore. 
 One of the men asked what was wanted. Stobo answered, in 
 good French, that he was on the king's errand, and wanted 
 passage down the river, for which he would pay well, and that 
 if they would come ashore he had a bottle of choice rum which 
 he would be glad to offer. This proved too much for their 
 prudence. In three minutes they were ashore guzzling the 
 liquor. When well under its spell, it was a quick task to make 
 them prisoners. Stobo then offered them life on condition of 
 their giving true information of the numbers on board the ships. 
 He said he would examine them separately, and if they dis 
 agreed, all would be killed. Their accounts agreed. 
 
 It was now night. The two men were bound to a tree, and 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 211 
 
 the one woman, with drawn tomahawk, left to guard them. 
 The boy was taken into the boat, to pilot them. Two rowed, 
 while two were busy bailing out the leaky craft. Swiftly they 
 pulled alongside the dark hull of the French sloop. No watch 
 was kept. Stobo and his little company climbed quickly on 
 board. Some unavoidable noise aroused the crew. The first 
 man who came on deck was shot. A short struggle over 
 powered the crew, who fought at great disadvantage. Stobo 
 found, to his joy, that the sloop was well armed, while the other 
 vessel, the schooner, had no cannon. The two vessels were 
 carrying provisions for a party of three hundred Indians at 
 Quebec. Stobo instantly ordered his men to put the sloop 
 under way, and run up the British flag. 
 
 In a few minutes the sloop was laid right alongside the 
 schooner, and without a note of warning, a heavy volley of 
 balls swept the deck of the schooner, killing every man in sight. 
 The Indians on board sprang into the water. The whites cried 
 for quarter. Stobo and his men, having boarded the prize, 
 stood, with cocked muskets at the companion door; boldly 
 ordered down the prisoners, one by one from the sloop ; removed 
 every thing valuable from the latter and smaller vessel ; trans- 
 'ferred the swivels, and then deliberately set fire to the sloop, 
 which lighted up the whole heavens with a lurid glare. 
 
 All this time the poor woman stood trembling on the shore, 
 keeping guard over the first two prisoners. When the thunder 
 of the broadside was heard, the noise went to her heart like 
 death's last summons. She was sure the guns were fired at 
 Stobo and the rest, since she knew they had no guns. She was 
 just about to surrender herself to her own two prisoners, and 
 to entreat them to save her and her children, when she saw the 
 vessel on fire. With fear and wonder, she kept her own 
 thoughts. Stobo selected two of his best men and two prison 
 ers and sent them ashore for the company there. They brought 
 all safely on board. The hatches being closed on no less than 
 eighteen prisoners, which was too many to be safe, they were 
 
212 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ordered up by ones, and eight were sent adrift in a small boat 
 with provisions plenty, a musket and shot, and fishing-tackle, 
 while the French schooner sailed away under British colors. 
 
 The small boat's party made straight to shore, and thence 
 to the nearest military post, and told all that had happened. 
 The officer, having heard of Stobo's escape from Quebec and 
 the munificent prize offered for his capture, at once raised every 
 man that could be spared, armed a suitable vessel, and made 
 chase after the schooner. Too late ! by this time Stobo was 
 far ahead, and kept steadily on his course for several days, 
 until the Island of St. John's appeared. By scudding along on 
 one side of the isle, they chanced to miss a British fleet which 
 was passing toward the river by the other channel. The armed 
 sloop in pursuit of them, however, had no such good luck, for 
 she was captured by the British. 
 
 At length our adventurous party sighted Cape Breton, away 
 across the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and soon gained the British 
 fortified port of Louisburg, having been full thirty-eight days 
 making the voyage from Quebec. The news of this wonderful 
 and gallant escape flew from mouth to mouth, and the whole 
 place was in a ferment of excitement. Stobo was for a time 
 the observed of all observers. The schooner, with its valuable 
 furs and other goods, was sold, and Stobo gave all his own 
 share of the proceeds to the poor woman and her children who 
 had so long been his patient companions. 
 
 Within two days Stobo set out to join Wolfe in his great 
 expedition against Quebec. He is said to have been the man 
 who pointed out the path up the steep cliffs by which the final 
 assault was made. On the fall of the great citadel of Canada, 
 Stobo was ordered to carry the dispatches to General Amherst, 
 at Boston. On the way, the vessel he sailed in was attacked 
 and captured by a French privateer. Stobo managed to pass as a 
 common sailor, and was set adrift in a boat with one day's pro 
 visions. After four days of anxious toil at the oars, he reached 
 Halifax, and thence made his way on foot to Boston. 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 213 
 
 On a November day in the year 1759, Stobo appeared 
 among his old friends in Virginia. He was hailed as one risen 
 from the dead. The Virginia Assembly presented him with one 
 thousand pounds, and passed a resolution in praise of his hero 
 ism. He was also granted a year's leave of absence from his 
 regiment on full pay. He went to England, and was honored 
 by an interview with Pitt himself. At this point history loses 
 sight of him. This shining portion of his career is known to 
 all the world, but the fate of the man who accomplished such 
 remarkable feats is unknown. 
 
 COLONEL JAMES SMITH 
 
 was, in May, 1755, a boy of eighteen years. . He was one of 
 the many settlers who went out to clear a path for the passage 
 of Braddock's army through the wilderness. One morning he 
 was ordered to go several miles to the rear to hurry up the pro 
 vision wagons. On his return trip he was ambushed and cap 
 tured by Indians. With a savage grasping either arm, he was 
 forced to run over broken and rocky ground for fifteen miles. 
 After a halt for the night, his captors pushed on to Fort du 
 Quesne. On the journey, Smith received his share of moldy 
 biscuit, roast venison, and wild turkey, faring comfortably, till 
 he reached the neighborhood of the fort, where he was forced 
 to run the gauntlet. In this little amusement the poor fellow 
 was badly hurt, but, through the ministration of a French physi 
 cian at the fort, he recovered. 
 
 After the terrible rout of Braddock's army the painted allies 
 of the French began to withdraw from the fort, to return to 
 their own people. Smith's captors took him with them to a 
 town on the Muskingum river. He describes the novel recep 
 tion given him. 
 
 " On my arrival at the aforesaid town, a number of Indians 
 collected about me, and one of them began to pull the hair out 
 of my head. He had some ashes on a piece of bark, in which 
 he frequently dipped his fingers, in order to take the firmer 
 
214 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 hold ; and so he went on as if he had been plucking a turkey, 
 until he had all the hair out of my head, except a small spot 
 three or four inches square on my crown ; this they cut off with 
 a pair of scissors, excepting three locks, which they dressed up 
 with ornaments. After this they bored my nose and ears, and 
 fixed me off with ear-rings and nose jewels ; then they ordered 
 me to strip off my clothes and put on a breech-clout, which I did. 
 I made no doubt but they were about putting me to death. 
 
 " The old chief, holding me by the hand, made a long speech, 
 very loud, and when he had done he handed me to three young 
 squaws, who led me by the hand down the bank, into the river, 
 until the water was up to our middle. The squaws then made 
 signs to me to plunge myself into the water, but I did not un 
 derstand them I thought that the result of the council was that 
 I should be drowned, and that these young ladies were to be the 
 executioners. They all three laid violent hold of me, and I for 
 some time opposed them with all my might, which occasioned 
 loud laughter by the multitude that were on the bank of the 
 river. At length one of the squaws made out to speak a little 
 English (for I believe they began to be afraid of me), and said 
 ' no hurt you / on this I gave myself up to their ladyships, who 
 were as good as their word ; for, though they plunged me under 
 water, and washed and rubbed me severely, yet I could not say 
 they hurt me much. 
 
 "These young women then led me up to the council house, 
 where some of the tribe were ready with new clothes for me. 
 They gave me a new ruffled shirt, which I put on ; also a pair 
 of leggins done off with ribbons and beads; likewise a pair of 
 moccasins, and garters dressed with beads, porcupine quills, and 
 red hair; also a tinsel laced cappo. They again painted my head 
 and face with various colors, and tied a bunch of red feathers to 
 one of those locks they had left on the crown of my head, which 
 stood up five or six inches. They seated me on a bearskin, 
 and gave me a pipe, tomahawk, and polecat-skin pouch, which 
 had been skinned pocket fashion, and contained tobacco, spunk, 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 215 
 
 flint, and steel. When I was thus seated, the Indians came in, 
 dressed and painted in their grandest manner. As they came 
 in they took their seats, and for a considerable time there was 
 a profound silence every one was smoking ; but not a word 
 was spoken among them." 
 
 At length an old chief made a lengthy harangue, informing 
 Smith that by this ceremony he had been adopted into the 
 tribe. " From that day to this," said he, after a captivity of 
 many years, "I never knew them to make any distinction be 
 tween me and themselves, in any respect whatever." 
 
 That evening a band of braves, who were about to go on 
 the war-path, collected together for the war-dance. An old In 
 dian began to sing and beat time on a rude drum. " Each 
 warrior had a tomahawk, spear, or war-mallet in his hand, and 
 they all moved regularly toward the east, or the way they in 
 tended to go to war. At length they all stretched their toma 
 hawks toward the Potomac, and giving a hideous shout or yell, 
 they wheeled quick about, and danced in the same manner back. 
 
 "Each warrior then sung a war-song, and, striking a post 
 with his tomahawk, in a loud voice told what warlike exploits 
 he had done, and what he now intended to do, which were an 
 swered by the other warriors with loud shouts of applause. 
 Some who had not before intended to go to war, at this time 
 were so animated by this performance that they took up the 
 tomahawk, and sung the war-song, .which was answered with 
 shouts of joy, as they were then initiated into the present 
 marching company. 
 
 "The next morning this company all collected at one place, 
 with their heads and faces painted with various colors, and packs 
 upon their backs. They marched off, all silent except the com 
 mander, who, in the front, sung the traveling song. Just as the 
 rear passed the end of the town, they began to fire in their slow 
 manner, from the front to the rear, which was accompanied with 
 shouts and yells from all quarters." 
 
 Smith's first hunting expedition resulted disastrously to his 
 
216 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 reputation. He was out with a party on a six weeks' hunt. 
 One day his Indian friends gave him a gun, and told him to 
 take the dogs, go down the creek, and try to kill some turkeys. 
 He was further cautioned not to get lost. When some distance 
 from camp, he found some buffalo tracks. Instantly all thought 
 of such small game as turkeys vanished. The young hunter 
 became fired with ambition to kill a buffalo. All day he followed 
 the trail. At nightfall he found himself without turkeys, and 
 much less buffalo. Worse than this, he was completely lost. 
 He fired his gun, and halloed, but met no response. The next 
 morning the Indians hunted him up by his tracks. "On my 
 return to camp," says he, " they took my gun from me, and for 
 this rash step, I was reduced to bow and arrows for near two 
 years." 
 
 One day he displeased the Indians in some way, and the 
 next morning found they erected a large frame-work, which he 
 concluded was a gallows, on which he was to be hung. The 
 structure proved, however, to have no more dangerous purpose 
 than to serve as a drying rack for skins. 
 
 His first winter was spent with his adopted brother, Tonti- 
 leaugo, and a small company of Indians, in a cabin, which they 
 erected near the shores of Lake Erie. Though warm and com 
 fortable, they were in great distress for want of food. There 
 were only two men in the camp besides Smith. These had to 
 provide food for several families of squaws and children. The 
 crust on the snow would break through at every step, alarming 
 the deer at the hunter's approach, and reducing them to the 
 single chance of hunting bear holes. This became their daily 
 occupation. Sometimes they drove the bear out of the hollow 
 trees, with smoke and fire-brands ; at other times, Smith and 
 Tontileaugo would chop the tree down with their tomahawks. 
 On these hunts they would build a little bark shelter for them 
 selves, where, as Smith says, " we were quite snug." In the 
 month of February, the squaws went to work to make maple 
 sugar, collecting the water in bark vessels, holding a hundred 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 217 
 
 gallons, and boiling it in two large brass kettles. Towards 
 spring, they also made vessels of dried deer skin, in which they 
 stored the oil rendered out by frying bear's fat. 
 
 While out on a hunt with Tontileaugo, Smith one day 
 renr ined in the little camp, while his companion went out after 
 gan e. A Wyandotte came to the camp, and begged for some 
 food. Smith gave him a shoulder of roasted venison, for which 
 he was very thankful. That night Smith related the circum 
 stance to Tontileaugo, who said that was right, but that of 
 course Smith gave him sugar and bear's oil to eat his venison 
 with. Smith said he had not. This answer angered the Indian 
 greatly. "You have behaved just like a Dutchman. Do you 
 not know that when strangers come to our camp, we ought 
 always to give them the best we have?" 
 
 The next winter Smith was invited by a visiting chief, named 
 Tecaughretanego, to go with him to another part of the country. 
 Smith hesitated to leave his old friends, but Tontileaugo said 
 that his new friend was a greater man than he was, and rather 
 advised him to go. The region to which Smith went was north 
 western Ohio and eastern Michigan. Game was tolerably 
 abundant, and the Indians had many apples stored up. Here 
 too, Smith saw for the first time, cranberries, which grew in 
 swamps, and were gathered by the Indians when the swamp 
 was frozen. "These berries," Smith remarks, "were about as 
 large as rifle bullets, of a bright red color, an agreeable sour, 
 though rather too sour of themselves, but when mixed with 
 sugar had a very agreeable taste." Smith met with a thrilling 
 adventure this winter, which he relates as follows : 
 
 " I went out with Tecaughretanego and some others a beaver 
 hunting; but we did not succeed, and on our return we saw 
 where several raccoons had passed while the snow was soft, 
 though there was now a crust upon it. We all made a halt, 
 looking at the raccoon tracks. As they saw a tree with a hole 
 in it, they told me to go and see if they had gone in thereat; 
 and if they had to halloo, and they would come and take them 
 
 12 
 
218 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 out. When I went to that tree, I found they had gone past; 
 but I saw another the way they had gone, and proceeded to 
 examine that, and found they had gone up it. I then began to 
 halloo, but could have no answer. 
 
 "As it began to snow and blow most violently, I returned, 
 and proceeded after my company, and for some time could see 
 their tracks ; but the old snow being only about three inches deep, 
 and a crust upon it, the present driving snow soon filled up the 
 tracks. As I had only a bow, arrows, and tomahawk with me, 
 and no way to strike fire, I appeared to be in a dismal situa 
 tion, and as the air was dark with snow, I had little more pros 
 pect of steering my course than I would in the night. At 
 length I came to a hollow tree, with a hole at one side that I 
 could go in at. I went in, and found that it was a dry place, 
 and the hollow about three feet diameter, and high enough for 
 me to stand in. I found that there was also a considerable 
 quantity of soft, dry, rotten wood around this hollow. I there 
 fore concluded that I would lodge here, and that I would go to 
 work and stop up the door of my house. I stripped off my 
 blanket (which was all the clothes that I had, excepting breech- 
 clout, leggins, and moccasins), and with my tomahawk fell to 
 chopping at the top of a fallen tree that lay near, and carried 
 wood and set it up on end against the door, until I had it three 
 or four feet thick, all around, excepting a hole I had left to 
 creep in at. I had a block prepared that I could haul after me, 
 to stop this hole ; and before I went in I put in a number of 
 small sticks, that I might more effectually stop it on the inside. 
 
 "When I went in I took my tomahawk and cut down all 
 the dry, rotten wood I could get, and beat it small. With it I 
 made a bed like a goose-nest or hog-bed, and with the small 
 sticks stopped every hole, until my house was almost dark. I 
 stripped off my moccasins, and danced in the center of my bed 
 for about half an hour, in order to warm myself. In this time 
 my feet and whole body were agreeably warmed. The snow, 
 in the meanwhile, had stopped all the holes, so that my house 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 219 
 
 was as dark as a dungeon; though I knew that it could not be 
 dark out of doors. I then coiled myself up in my blanket, lay 
 down in my little round bed, and had a tolerable night's lodging. 
 " When I awoke, all was dark not the least glimmering of 
 light was to be seen. Immediately I recollected that I was not 
 to expect light in this new habitation, as there was neither door 
 or window in it. As I could hear the storm raging, and did not 
 suffer much cold as I was then situated, I concluded I would 
 stay in my nest until I was certain it was day. When I had 
 reason to conclude that it surely was day, I arose and put on 
 my moccasins, which I had lain under my head to keep from 
 freezing. I then endeavored to find the door, and had to do all 
 by the sense of feeling, which took me some time. At length 
 I found the block, but it being heavy, and a large quantity of 
 snow having fallen on it, at the first attempt I did not move it. 
 I then felt terrified. Among all the hardships I had sus 
 tained, I never knew before what it was to be thus deprived 
 of light. This, with the other circumstances attending it, 
 appeared grievous. 
 
 " I went straightway to bed again, wrapped my blanket round 
 me, and lay and mused awhile, and then prayed to Almighty 
 God to direct and protect me, as he had done heretofore. I 
 once again attempted to move away the block, which proved 
 successful; it moved about nine inches. With this a consider 
 able quantity of snow fell in from above, and I immediately 
 received light; so that I found a very great snow had fallen, 
 above what I had ever seen in one night. I then knew why I 
 * could not easily move the block, and I was so rejoiced at obtain 
 ing the light, that all my other difficulties seemed to vanish. 
 I then turned into my cell, and returned God thanks for having 
 once more received the light of heaven. At length I belted my 
 blanket about me, got my tomahawk, bow and arrows, and went 
 out of my den. 
 
 " I was now in tolerable high spirits, though the snow had 
 fallen above three feet deep, in addition to what was on the 
 
220 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ground before ; and the only imperfect guide I had, in order to 
 steer my course to camp, was the trees, as the moss generally 
 grows on the north-west side of them, if they are straight. I 
 proceeded on, wading through the snow, and about twelve o'clock 
 (as it appeared afterwards, from that time to night, for it was 
 yet cloudy), I came upon the creek that our camp was on, about 
 half a mile below the camp ; and when I came in sight of the 
 camp, I found that there was great joy, by the shouts and yell 
 ing of the boys." 
 
 This and another somewhat similar adventure so improved 
 Smith's reputation that, soon after, the Indians went to Detroit 
 and bought him a fine new gun. At the time of this purchase, 
 the Indians, having a large surplus of beaver skins, resolved to 
 expend them for brandy. Those who were to get drunk invited 
 Smith to join in the revel, but he preferred to remain with the 
 sober party, whose duty it was to prevent the debauchees from 
 hurting themselves and one another. This dangerous task met 
 with only partial success during the several days of the drunk, 
 which lasted till the beaver skins were exhausted. 
 
 " When the brandy was gone, and the drinking club sober, 
 they appeared much dejected. Some of them were crippled, 
 others badly wounded, a number of their fine new shirts tore, 
 and several blankets were burned. A number of squaws were 
 also in this club, and neglected their corn-planting. We could 
 now hear the effects of the brandy in the Ottawa town. They 
 were singing and yelling in the most hideous manner, both night 
 and day ; but their frolic ended worse than ours : five Ottawas 
 were killed and a great many wounded." 
 
 One night a squaw reported that the dreaded Mohawks were 
 in the vicinity. Every one at once took to the bushes, except 
 Manetohcoa, the conjurer, who placed himself before the fire, to 
 exercise his magic. Among his implements were dyed feathers, 
 and the shoulder-blade of a wild-cat. After many incantations 
 and performances, he called loudly for the rest to come back. 
 Breathless with awe, his audience listened while he announced 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 221 
 
 that, instead of a number of Mohawks appearing on the flat- 
 bone, the pictures of two wolves had come, and that no enemy- 
 was near. Upon this assurance the whole camp went to sleep at 
 once. In the morning his magic was verified by the presence 
 of wolf- tracks, and the entire absence of moccasin prints. 
 
 Smith writes : " If there is any such thing as a wizard, I 
 think Manetohcoa was as likely to be one as any man, as he 
 was a professed worshiper of the devil. But let him be a con 
 jurer or not, I am persuaded that the Indians believed what he 
 told them upon this occasion, as well as if it had come from 
 an infallible oracle, or they would not, after such an alarm as 
 this, go all to sleep in an unconcerned manner." 
 
 Tecaughretanego was an Indian of unusual intelligence. He 
 had lofty opinions and original ideas on every subject with 
 which he had opportunity to become acquainted. Smith said 
 that he was. the best reasoner he ever saw, and, as compared 
 with other Indians, was as Socrates among the common Athen 
 ians. But the old chief was no longer influential or active. He 
 was sixty years of age, and was so disabled by rheumatism 
 as to be confined to his wigwam. It happened that one win 
 ter Smith found himself encamped alone with the old chief and 
 his young son, Murganey, at a great distance from any other 
 Indians. Here the old Indian was attacked by rheumatism, and 
 so lamed and disabled that a removal was out of the question. 
 On Smith's exertions the three depended to be kept from starv 
 ation. The story of the time is preserved in Smith's narrative. 
 
 " Though Tecaughretanego endured much pain and misery, 
 yet he bore it all with wonderful patience, and would often 
 endeavor to entertain me with cheerful conversation. Some 
 times he would applaud me for my diligence, skill, and activity; 
 and at other times he would take great care in giving me 
 instructions concerning the hunting and trapping business. He 
 would also tell me that if I failed of success we would suffer 
 very much, as we were about forty miles from any one living, 
 that we knew of; yet he would not intimate that he appre- 
 
222 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 hended we were in any danger, but still supposed that I was 
 fully adequate to the task. 
 
 " From Christmas until some time in February we had always 
 plenty of bear meat and venison. During this time I killed 
 much more than we could use, but having no horses to carry in 
 what I killed, I left part of it in the woods. In February, there 
 came a snow, with a crust which made a great noise when walk 
 ing on it, and frightened away the deer; and as bear and beaver 
 were scarce here, we got entirely out of provision. After I had 
 hunted two days without eating any thing, and had very short 
 allowance for some days before, I returned late in the evening, 
 faint and weary. 
 
 "When I came into our hut. Tecaughretanego asked what 
 success. I told him not any. He asked me if I was not very 
 hungry. I replied that the keen appetite seemed to be in some 
 measure removed, but I was both faint and weary. He com 
 manded Nunganey, his little son, to bring me something to eat, 
 and he brought me a kettle with some bones and broth. After 
 eating a few mouthfuls, my appetite violently returned, and I 
 thought the victuals had a most agreeable relish, though it was 
 only fox and wild-cat bones which lay about Jie camp, which 
 the ravens and turkey-buzzards had picked ; these Nunganey 
 had collected and boiled, until the sinews that remained on the 
 bones would strip off. 
 
 " I speedily finished my allowance, such as it was, and when 
 I had ended my sweet repast, Tecaughretanego asked me how I 
 felt. I told him that I was much refreshed. He then handed 
 me his pipe and pouch, and told me to take a smoke. I did so. 
 He then said he had something of importance to tell me, if I 
 was now composed and ready to hear it. I told him that I was 
 ready to hear him. He said the reason why he deferred his 
 speech till now was because few men are in a right humor to 
 hear good talk when they are extremely hungry, as they are 
 then generally fretful and discomposed, 'but as you appear now 
 to enjoy calmness and serenity of mind, I will now communicate 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 223 
 
 to you the thoughts of my heart, and those things that I know 
 to be true. 
 
 " ' Brother As you have lived with the white people, you 
 have not had the same advantage of knowing that the great 
 Being above feeds his people, and gives them their meat in due 
 season, as we Indians have, who are frequently out of provisions, 
 and yet are wonderfully supplied, and that so frequently, that 
 it is evidently the hand of the great Owaneeyo * that doth this. 
 Whereas the white people have commonly large stocks of tame 
 cattle that they can kill when they please, and also their barns 
 and cribs filled with grain, and therefore have not the same 
 opportunity of seeing and knowing that they are supported by 
 the Ruler of heaven and earth. I know that you are now 
 afraid that we will all perish with hunger, but you have no just 
 reason to fear this. I have been young, but am now old; I 
 have been frequently under the like circumstances that we now 
 are, and that some time or other in almost every year of my 
 life; yet I have hitherto been supported, and my wants sup 
 plied in time of need. Owaneeyo sometimes suffers us to be 
 in want, in order to teach us our dependence upon him, and to 
 let us know that we are to love and serve him ; and likewise 
 to know the worth of the favors that we receive, and to make 
 us more thankful. Be assured that you will be supplied with 
 food, and that just in the right time ; but you must continue 
 diligent in the use of means. Go to sleep, and rise early in the 
 morning, and go a hunting; be strong, and exert yourself like 
 a man, and the Great Spirit will direct your way.' 
 
 "The next morning I went out, and steered about an east 
 course. I proceeded on slowly for about five miles, and saw deer 
 frequently; but as the crust on the snow made a great noise, 
 they were always running before I spied them, so that I could 
 not get a shot. A violent appetite returned, and I became in 
 tolerably hungry. It was now that I concluded I would run 
 
 * This is the name of God, in their tongue, and signifies the owner and ruler 
 of all things. 
 
224 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 off to Pennsylvania, my native country. As the snow was on 
 the ground, and Indian hunters almost the whole of the way 
 before nre ? I had but a poor prospect of making my escape, but 
 my case appeared desperate. If I stayed here, I thought I would 
 perish with hunger, and if I met with Indians, they could but 
 kill me. 
 
 "I then proceeded on as fast as I could walk, and when I 
 got about ten or twelve miles from our hut, I came upon fresh 
 buffalo tracks ; I pursued after, and in a short time came in 
 sight of them as they were passing through a small glade. I 
 ran with all my might and headed them, where I lay in ambush, 
 and killed a very large cow. I immediately kindled a fire, and 
 began to roast the meat, but could not wait till it was done; I 
 ate it almost raw. When hunger was abated, I began to be 
 tenderly concerned for my old Indian brother and the little boy 
 I had left in a perishing condition. I made haste and packed 
 up what meat I could carry, secured what I left from the wolves, 
 and returned homeward. 
 
 "I scarcely thought on the old man's speech, while I was 
 almost distracted with hunger, but on my return was much 
 affected with it, reflected on myself for my hard-heartedness 
 and ingratitude in attempting to run off and leave the venerable 
 old man and little boy to perish with hunger. I also considered 
 how remarkably the old man's speech had been verified in our 
 providentially obtaining a supply. I thought also of that part 
 of his speech which treated of the fractious dispositions of 
 hungry people, which was the only excuse I had for my base 
 inhumanity in attempting to leave them in the most deplorable 
 situation. 
 
 "As it was moonlight, I got home to our hut, and found the 
 old man in his usual good humor. He thanked me for my 
 exertion, and bid me sit down, as I must certainly be fatigued, 
 and he commanded Nunganey to make haste and cook. I told 
 him I would cook for him, and let the boy lay some meat on 
 the coals for himself; which he did, but ate it almost raw, as I 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 225 
 
 had done. I immediately hung on the kettle, with some water, 
 and cut the beef in thin slices, and put them in. When it had 
 boiled awhile, I proposed taking it off the fire, but the old man 
 replied, 'let it be done enough." This he said in as patient and 
 unconcerned a manner as if he had not wanted one single meal. 
 He commanded Nunganey to eat no more beef at that time, 
 lest he might hurt himself, but told him to sit down, and after 
 some time he might sup some broth; this command he reluc 
 tantly obeyed. 
 
 "When we were all refreshed, Tecaughretanego delivered a 
 speech upon the necessity and pleasure of receiving the neces 
 sary supports of life with thankfulness, knowing that Owaneeyo 
 is the great giver." 
 
 It was April before the old chief could be removed. The 
 river being low, he said that he would pray for rain. " Tecau 
 ghretanego made himself a sweat-house, which he did by stick 
 ing a number of hoops in the ground, each hoop forming a semi 
 circle ; this he covered all round with blankets and skins. He 
 then prepared hot stones, which he rolled into this hut, and 
 then went into it himself with a little kettle of water in his 
 hand, mixed with a variety of herbs, which he had formerly 
 cured, and had now with him in his pack ; they afforded an 
 odoriferous perfume. When he was in, he told me to pull down 
 the blankets behind him, and cover all up close, which I did, 
 and then he began to pour water upon the hot stones, and to 
 sing aloud. He continued in this vehement hot place about 
 fifteen minutes. All this he did in order to purify himself 
 before he would address the Supreme Being." 
 
 When he came out of his sweat-house, he began to burn 
 tobacco and pray in the following manner : " i Great Being ! 
 I thank thee that I have obtained the use of my legs again; 
 that I am now able to walk about and kill turkeys, etc., with 
 out feeling exquisite pain and misery. I know that thou art a 
 hearer and a helper, and therefore I will call upon thee. Grant 
 that my knees and ankles may be right well, and that I may 
 
226 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 be able, not only to walk, but to run and to jump logs, as I did 
 last fall. Grant that on this voyage we may frequently kill 
 bears, as they may be crossing the Scioto and Sandusky. 
 Grant that we may kill plenty of turkeys along the banks, to 
 stew with our fat bear meat. Grant that rain may come to 
 raise the Ollentangy about two or three feet, that we may cross 
 in safety down to Scioto, without danger of our canoe being 
 wrecked on the rocks. And now, Great Being ! thou know- 
 est how matters stand ; thou knowest that I am a great lover 
 of tobacco, and though I know not when I may get any more, 
 I now make a present of the last I have unto thee, as a free 
 burnt offering; therefore, I expect thou wilt hear and grant 
 these requests, and I, thy servant, will return thee thanks, and 
 love thee for thy gifts.' " 
 
 While the old chieftain went through his devotions with 
 the most profound solemnity, the irreverent Smith, greatly 
 amused to see him waste all his tobacco, unfortunately laughed 
 at him. The savage paid no attention to it at the time, but 
 when the ceremony was over he scolded Smith roundly. The 
 latter apologized, smoked some dried willow bark with him, the 
 tobacco being all gone, and to patch up matters told him a good 
 deal about Christianity. " I told him something of the method 
 of reconciliation with an offended God, as revealed in my Bible. 
 He said that he liked my story better than that of the French 
 priests, but he thought that he was now too old to begin to 
 learn a new religion, therefore he should continue to worship 
 God in the way that he had been taught, and that if future 
 happiness was to be had in his way of worship, he expected 
 he would obtain it, and if it was inconsistent with the honor 
 of the Great Spirit to accept of him in his own way of wor 
 ship, he hoped that Owaneeyo would accept of him in the way 
 I had mentioned, or in some other way, though he might now 
 be ignorant of the channel through which mercy might be con 
 veyed. He said that he believed that Owaneeyo would hear 
 and help every one that sincerely waited upon him." 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 227 
 
 In a few days the rains descended and the floods came, and 
 the chief, duly reminding Smith that it was in answer to his 
 prayer, said that they might now embark for their people. 
 
 Smith remained with the Indians till the summer of 1759, 
 when his tribe happened to be near Montreal. Here he heard 
 of a French ship which had on board English prisoners to be 
 taken across the sea and exchanged for Frenchmen. His res 
 olution was made up. He managed to be taken captive by the 
 French as a means for getting away from the Indians. After 
 some months in prison he was exchanged, and in 1760, made 
 his way back to his Pennsylvania home, where he was joyfully 
 received. His parents had never known whether he had been 
 killed or taken prisoner. One sorrow awaited him. His sweet 
 heart was married to another man. 
 
 Smith took a very prominent part in Indian wars from this 
 time forth. He was a colonel in the Revolutionary war, and in 
 1788 removed to Bourbon county, Kentucky. Here he became 
 a prominent man, being a member of the legislature for many 
 years. In his later years he wrote a narrative of his adven 
 tures among the Indians, which is, by far, the best specimen 
 of that kind of literature extant. It has been called the 
 American Robinson Crusoe. The quotations we have made 
 show its interesting and graphic style. 
 
 THE BARD FAMILY. 
 
 Among the stories of Indian captivities which are in 
 existence is one which purports to have been prepared by 
 Archibald Bard, a son of the persons figuring in the narrative. 
 
 Richard Bard owned, in 1758, a small grist-mill in York 
 county, Pennsylvania. 
 
 One morning in April, a band of Indians surrounded the 
 mill and cabin. The doors were closed, but the Indians pre 
 pared to fire the house, and the inmates chose to surrender. 
 These were Mr. Bard and his wife, a servant-girl and boy, and 
 a Lieutenant Potter. The savages also captured a lad named 
 
228 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 White, who was bringing a bag of corn to the mill to be 
 ground, and two men named Hunter and McManimy, who 
 were at work in a neighboring field. At a short distance 
 from the house the Indians deliberately tomahawked Potter 
 and Hunter. The remaining captives were hurried on at a 
 break-neck speed over the mountains. 
 
 On the fifth day Mr. Bard received a severe beating with 
 the club of a gun, almost disabling him. One-half of his head 
 had been painted red. This indicated that one-half of the 
 council were in favor of putting him to death, and the other 
 half opposed to it. Bard's thoughts were busy with plans 
 for escape, but he was not allowed to communicate with his 
 wife. At last they were ordered to dress some turkeys. Dur 
 ing the labor, the wretched husband and wife signalled that, 
 if possible, each should escape separately at the first oppor 
 tunity, and if only one got away, that every effort should be 
 made to secure the release of the other. Bard's chance came. 
 He was ordered to bring water from a spring twenty yards 
 away. Mrs. Bard engaged the attention of the Indians at the 
 moment, and instead of stopping at the spring, her husband 
 bounded away into the forest. 
 
 The Indians soon missed him, and gave chase. Bard, being 
 so lame that he could not run far, crawled into a hollow log, 
 where he lay till his pursuers had passed him, and then started 
 in a different direction. Bruised, footsore, and famished, he 
 pressed on all that day and the next, hardly daring to look 
 behind him, much less to stop. 
 
 " Towards the close of the second day," says the . narrator, 
 "he came to a mountain four miles across, and at the top 
 covered with snow. By this time he was almost exhausted, 
 having traveled nearly constantly for two days and nights, and 
 being without food, except a few buds plucked from the trees 
 as he went along ; his shoes were worn out, and the country he 
 traveled through being extremely rough and in many places 
 covered with briers of a poisonous nature, his feet were very 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 229 
 
 much lacerated and swollen. To add to his difficulties, the 
 mountain was overgrown with laurel, and the snow lodged upon 
 its leaves so bent it down that he was unable, in many places, 
 to get along in his weak condition, except by creeping upon his 
 hands and knees under the branches. 
 
 " Three days had now elapsed since his escape ; and, although 
 he feared that the Indians were still in pursuit of him, and that 
 by traveling along the mountain they would find his tracks -in 
 the snow, and by that means be led to his place of concealment, 
 yet he found himself so lame that he could proceed no further. 
 His hands, also, by crawling upon them in the snow, became 
 almost as much swollen as his feet. He was therefore compelled 
 to lie by, without much prospect, indeed, of ever proceeding any 
 farther on his journey. Besides the danger of being overtaken 
 by his savage pursuers, he was, in fact, in a starving condition, 
 not having tasted food since his escape, except the buds already 
 mentioned, plucked, as he journeyed on, from the bean-wood, or 
 red-bud tree, as it is called. 
 
 " On the fifth day, however, as he was creeping on his hands 
 and knees (not being able yet to walk) in search of buds or 
 herbs to appease his hunger, he was fortunate enough to see a 
 rattlesnake, which he killed and ate raw. After lying by three 
 or four days, he allayed the swelling of his feet by puncturing 
 the festered parts with a thorn; he then tore up his breeches, 
 and with the pieces bound up his feet as well as he could. Thus 
 prepared, he again set out upon his journey, limping along with 
 great pain; but he had no other alternative, except to remain 
 where he was and die. He had gone but a few miles when, 
 from a hill he had just ascended, he was startled by the wel 
 come sound of a drum; he called as loud as he could, but there 
 was no one to answer ; it was but a delusion of the imagination. 
 
 "On the eighth day he crossed the Juniata by wading it, 
 which, on account of his lameness, he accomplished with great 
 difficulty. Shivering in his wet clothes, he luckily caught sight 
 of a camp-fire left by some hunters. Here he passed the night 
 
230 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 in comparative comfort. In the morning he was horrified to 
 come suddenly upon three Indians, probably the builders of the 
 camp-fire. They proved, however, to be friendly, and assisted 
 him to Fort Littleton, where he obtained food and rest." 
 
 To return to the other captives. Shortly after her husband's 
 escape, Mrs. Bard received a terrible beating from a squaw. 
 When the party prepared to move on, the wretched woman 
 pleaded to be left where she was. The answer was that she 
 might, if she preferred to be tomahawked rather than proceed. 
 One day the party arrived at an Indian town. McManimy was 
 detained outside the squalid village, while the rest were taken 
 in; Mrs. Bard receiving a terrible scratching from the long nails 
 of the squaws. 
 
 Poor McManimy met with a worse fate. A circle of Indians 
 formed around him, and commenced beating him. A stake was 
 meanwhile driven in the ground, to which he was then bound. 
 The scene of torture then commenced. Some threw shovelfuls 
 of hot coals on him. Others heated gun-barrels red-hot, and 
 seared his flesh, until the sickening odor polluted the air. The 
 wretched man was at last released from his sufferings by death. 
 
 Soon after this, Mrs. Bard was separated from the other 
 captives, and saw them no more. The only comfort she had 
 was some information from a white woman, who had been 
 taken captive years before, and had taken an Indian husband. 
 This woman told her that the belt of wampum around her 
 neck indicated that she was not to be put to death, but was 
 designed to be the wife of some warrior. She added that, as 
 soon as captive women could speak the Indian tongue, they were 
 forced to take an Indian husband or be put to death. Mrs. 
 Bard took the hint, and during the whole time of her captivity, 
 two years and a half, she never uttered a single word in the In 
 dian tongue. During this time she was treated by the family 
 in which she lived with marked kindness. They removed, soon 
 after her arrival, to the head-waters of the Susquehanna. The 
 fatigues of this journey, following so closely on the other, 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF THREE CAPTIVES. 231 
 
 brought on a dangerous illness, confining her for sev.eral months. 
 In spite of the rough fare, and rougher accommodations, she re 
 covered, and lived both to hope for liberty and receive it. 
 
 When Mr. Bard was partially recovered, at Fort Littleton, 
 his anxiety for his wife impelled him to leave his bed and start 
 to Fort Pitt. Arriving there, he found some Indians arranging 
 for a peace. He visited their camp across the river, and recog 
 nizing some of his old captors, questioned them eagerly about 
 his wife. They told him to come back the next day. That 
 night a young man who had been taken captive in childhood, 
 and had been adopted into the tribe, crossed to the fort and 
 warned Bard not to come, as he had promised, the next day, as 
 a plot was perfected to kill him. 
 
 From this time the disappointed man never ceased to search 
 for his wife. Her removal to the Susquehanna threw him com 
 pletely in the dark as to her whereabouts. At last, he obtained 
 a clue, and wrote her a letter, telling her to promise her captors 
 forty pounds for her release. But the plan failed, either through 
 the non-delivery of the letter, or the distrust of the Indians. 
 Among other schemes, he hired an Indian to steal his wife, but 
 at the last moment the fellow refused to go on such a dangerous 
 and doubtful errand. At last, peace having been made, Bard 
 determined at every hazard to go for his wife himself. He did 
 so, found her, and succeeded in purchasing her release. 
 
 A tragic incident occurred in connection with Mrs. Bard's 
 return home. Among the Indians was an adopted brother, who 
 had been kind to her, and Mr. Bard invited him to come and 
 see him some time. It was not long before the Indian accepted 
 the invitation. While on his visit, the poor red man got drunk 
 at a neighboring tavern, and received a dangerous stab in a 
 quarrel. Mr. Bard cared for the wounded Indian in the most 
 attentive manner, and he recovered. On his return to his peo 
 ple, the savage was accused of disloyalty, and of having become 
 a white man. A council of braves was held, his death decreed, 
 and the same day the fiat was put into execution. 
 
232 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIZ 
 
 i 
 
 THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 
 
 |HE web of history is woven from the countless 
 threads of individual lives. Its pattern is con 
 trolled by the genius of great men. 
 
 Pontiac was the chief of the mighty con 
 federacy of the Ottowas, the Ojibwas, and the 
 Pottawotamies, which had its center of power 
 in what is now the State of Michigan. But 
 the genius of the mighty chief had spread his 
 fame and influence, not merely through the confederacy, nor yet 
 alone to the surrounding tribes, but over the greater part of the 
 continent. 
 
 On the east his name was respectfully mentioned among 
 the Indians of the Mohawk Valley as that of their greatest 
 foe. Far to the South, the wandering tribes of Florida and 
 Louisiana, had heard of the unapproachable prowess of Pontiac, 
 and looked up to him as the greatest of all the Alg'onquin 
 chiefs. His intellect was broad, powerful, and far-seeing. In 
 him were combined the qualities of a great leader, a great war 
 rior, and a great statesman. His plans continually reached out 
 beyond the narrow limits of his tribe. His ambitions vaulted 
 far beyond the scope of those of common chieftains. His under 
 standing rose to higher generalizations, broader comprehensions, 
 than those of any other Indian mind. In 1760 he was fifty 
 years old, just at the meridian of all his splendid powers. 
 
 Great minds require great opportunities. The world is full 
 of wasted genius. "Hands that the rod of empire migfit hrve 
 

 , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 235 
 
 swayed," are to be found holding the plow-handle and the 
 plane. Cromwell without the English Revolution, Washington 
 without the Revolutionary war, Grant without the Civil war, 
 would have been indistinguishable from the common throng 
 of men. 
 
 Pontiac was great. He also had great opportunities. Let 
 us take a survey. 
 
 The English had conquered America. The French, the idols 
 of the Indian heart, to support whose cause the remotest tribes 
 of the north and west had furnished quotas of warriors, trav 
 eling hundreds upon hundreds of miles to strike a blow at the 
 English, were humiliated, driven from the continent. 
 
 From the small and widely separated forts along the lakes 
 and in the interior the red men had, with sorrow and anger, 
 seen the fleur-de-lis disappear and the cross of St. George take 
 its place. This took place, although the Indian power was 
 unbroken. Toward the intruders, victors over their friends, 
 patrons, and allies, the Indians maintained a stubborn resent 
 ment and hostility. 
 
 We have already noticed the difference ,in the policies of 
 the French and English. The abundant supplies of rifles, 
 blankets, gunpowder, beads, pipes, and brandy, which had for 
 so many years been dispensed from the forts with lavish hand, 
 were abruptly stopped. When the Indians visited the forts, 
 instead of being treated with politic attention and politeness, 
 they were received gruffly, subjected to indignities, and not 
 infrequently helped out of the fort with the butt of a sentry's 
 musket or a vigorous kick from an officer. 
 
 In addition to these things the wilderness was overrun with 
 brutal English traders, who plundered, cheated and cursed the 
 warriors, dishonored their squaws, and indulged in every form 
 of profligacy. The best settlers tried to break this up, some 
 times stopping a mad revel by force of arms. Such a scene is 
 presented in the opposite picture. Meanwhile France, still 
 smarting under her defeats, dispatched emissaries to almost 
 
 13 
 
236 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 every council house and wigwam from the lakes to the gulf, 
 saying that French armies were already on their way to drive 
 out the English, and inciting the Indians to inflict swift and 
 bloody revenge upon the foes of France. 
 
 Lashed almost into frenzy by these agencies, still another 
 disturbing influence appeared in a great Indian prophet, who 
 arose among the Delawares, preaching the recovery of the 
 Indian's hunting grounds from the white man, and claiming to 
 have received a revelation from God. Vast throngs listened to 
 his wild eloquence, his audience containing hearers who had 
 come from distant regions to hear him. The white man was 
 driving the Indians from their country, he said, and unless the 
 Indians obeyed the Great Spirit, and destroyed the white man, 
 then the latter would destroy them. 
 
 This was the state of affairs among the Indians in 1761 and 
 1762. Everywhere was discontent, sullen hatred, and explosive 
 passion. The shadows of the forest were not blacker than the 
 ominous darkness which pervaded the Indian breast. This 
 was not local, but was far more nearly universal, spreading 
 from the lakes to the gulf, than any other Indian disturbance 
 before or since. 
 
 It is impossible to say how much of this state of affairs was 
 due to Pontiac's designing intrigue and instigation, and how 
 much of it arose spontaneously. We can not tell whether Pon- 
 tiac made it, or whether it made Pontiac. Certain it is that 
 Pontiac maintained close relations with the great Shawanese 
 prophet. However this may be, we are certain of two things, 
 that it constituted Pontiac's opportunity, and that but for his 
 genius the whole mighty ferment would have evaporated in a 
 few scattering Indian raids. 
 
 While these things moved the common Indian, the vision of 
 the great and wise Pontiac took a wider scope, and was inspired 
 by loftier notions than a mere resentment at the failure of the 
 presents and the summary treatment of idle loungers about the 
 forts. He saw that as long as France and England had been 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 237 
 
 opposed to each other in America, the Indians had held the bal 
 ance of power, and received the treatment which their impor 
 tance merited. But now that England had no longer a rival, the 
 Indians were spurned and crowded to the wall. This he saw 
 must result in the destruction of the race, unless France could 
 regain her foothold on the continent. This became his ambi 
 tion. To this end he conceived and concerted the most won 
 derful conspiracy, taking into view the surroundings and cir 
 cumstances, upon which the historian's toil has shed the light 
 of day. 
 
 Toward the close of 1762, dark messengers from Pontiac, 
 bearing the war belt of wampum, broad and ,long as the import 
 ance of the occasion demanded, threaded their way through the 
 forest to the farthest shores of Lake Superior, and the distant 
 delta of the Mississippi. On the arrival of these ambassadors 
 among a tribe, the chief warriors would assemble in the council 
 house. Then the orator, flinging down the red-stained toma 
 hawk before his audience, would deliver, with energetic emphasis 
 and action, the message from his lord. The keynote was WAR ! 
 On a certain day in May, after so many moons, the Indians 
 from lakes to gulf, were to take the war-path simultaneously, 
 destroy the English fort nearest them, and then throw them 
 selves on the unprotected frontier. 
 
 The bugle call of such a mighty leader as Pontiac roused 
 the remotest tribes. Everywhere they joined the conspiracy, 
 and sent lofty messages to Pontiac of the deeds they would per 
 form. The ordinary pursuits of life were given up. The war 
 riors danced the war-dance for weeks at a time. Squaws were 
 set to sharpening knives, moulding bullets, and mixing war-paint. 
 Children caught the fever, and practiced incessantly with bows 
 and arrows. 
 
 For the one time in their history, a thousand wild and rest 
 less tribes were animated by a single inspiration am} purpose. 
 That which was incapable of union, united. Conjurors practiced 
 their arts. Magicians consulted their oracles. Prophets avowed 
 
238 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 revelations from the Most High. Warriors withdrew to caves 
 and fastnesses, where, with fasting and self-torture, they wrought 
 themselves into more fearful excitement and mania. Young men 
 sought to raise their courage by eating raw flesh and drinking 
 hot blood. Tall chieftains, crowned with nodding plumes, ha 
 rangued their followers nightly, striking every chord of revenge, 
 glory, avarice, pride, patriotism, and love, which trembled in the 
 savage breast. 
 
 As the orator approached his climax, he would leap into the 
 air, brandishing his hatchet as if rushing upon an enemy, yell 
 ing the war-whoop, throwing himself into a thousand postures, 
 his eyes aflame, his muscles strained and knotted, his face a 
 thunderstorm of passion, as if in the actual struggle. At last, 
 with a triumphant shout, he brandishes aloft the scalp of the 
 imaginary victim. His eloquence is irresistible. His audience 
 is convulsed with passionate interest, and sways like trees tossed 
 in the tempest. At last, the whole assembly, fired with uncon 
 trollable frenzy, rush together in the ring, leaping, stamping, yell 
 ing, brandishing knives and hatchets in the firelight, hacking and 
 stabbing the air, until the lonely midnight forest is transformed 
 into a howling pandemonium of devils, from whose fearful 
 uproar the startled animals, miles away, flee frightened into 
 remoter lairs. 
 
 The time for the bursting of the storm drew near. Yet at 
 only one place on the frontier was there the least suspicion of 
 Indian disturbance. The garrisons of the exposed forts reposed 
 in fancied security. The arch conspirator, Pontiac, had breathed 
 the breath of life into a vast conspiracy, whose ramifications 
 spread their network over a region of country of which the 
 north-western and south-eastern extremities were nearly two 
 thousand miles apart. Yet the traders, hunters, scouts, and 
 trappers who were right among the Indians, and were versed in 
 the signs of approaching trouble, suspected nothing wrong. 
 Colossal conspiracy! Stupendous deceit! 
 
 On the 27th of April, 1763, Pontiac met the chiefs of the 
 
'THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 239 
 
 allied tribes, from far and near, in a grand war council, on the 
 banks of the little river, Etorces, not far from Detroit. Park- 
 man gives a vivid picture of the assembly, as band after band 
 came straggling in before the appointed time. " Here were idle 
 warriors, smoking and laughing in groups, or beguiling the lazy 
 hours with gambling, with feasting, or with doubtful stories of 
 their own exploits in war. Here were youthful gallants, bediz 
 ened with all the foppery of beads, feathers, and hawks' bills, 
 but held, as yet, in light esteem, since they had slain no enemy, 
 and taken no scalp. Here also were young damsels, radiant with 
 bears' oil, ruddy with vermilion, and versed in all the arts of 
 forest coquetry; shriveled hags, with limbs of wire, and voices 
 like those of the screech owls ; and troops of naked children, 
 with small, black, mischievous eyes, roaming the outskirts of the 
 woods. 
 
 "On the long expected morning, heralds passed from one 
 group of lodges to another, calling the warriors in loud voice to 
 attend the great council before Pontiac. In accordance with the 
 summons they came issuing from their wigwams the tall, naked 
 figures of the wild Ojibwas, with quivers slung at their backs, 
 and light war-clubs resting in the hollow of their arms ; Otta- 
 was, wrapped close in their gaudy blankets ; Wyandots, flutter 
 ing in painted shirts, their heads adorned with feathers, and 
 their leggins garnished with bells. All were soon seated in a 
 wide circle upon the grass, row within row, a grave and silent 
 assembly. Each savage countenance seemed carved in wood, 
 and none could have detected the deep and fiery passions hid 
 den beneath that immovable exterior. 
 
 >c Then Pontiac rose. According to tradition, not above mid 
 dle height, his muscular figure was cast in a mould of remark 
 able symmetry and vigor. His complexion was darker than is 
 usual with his race, and his features, though by no means 
 regular, had a bold and stern expression, while his habitual 
 bearing was imperious and peremptory, like that of a man 
 accustomed to sweep away all opposition by the force of his 
 
240 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 impetuous will. His ordinary attire was that of the primitive 
 savage, a scanty cincture girt about his loins, and his long black 
 hair flowing loosely at his back; but on occasions like this he 
 was wont to appear as befitted his power and character, and he 
 stood before the council, plumed and painted in the full costume 
 of war. Looking round upon his wild auditors, he began to 
 speak, with fierce gesture and loud impassioned voice." 
 
 Parkman's story of the council reminds one of the council 
 of infernal peers in Pandemonium, as described by Milton. One 
 naturally expects Pontiac, this Moloch of the forest, to begin, 
 "My sentence is for open war," and the expectation is fulfilled. 
 He inveighed against the arrogance, rapacity, and injustice of 
 the English, and contrasted them with the French, whom they 
 had driven from the soil. He recounted the neglect, the insults, 
 the outrages, which he and his braves had suffered at their hands. 
 He pointed out how the English, no longer having the French 
 to contend with, had not only ceased to treat the Indians with 
 respect, but had stolen their hunting-grounds, and awaited only 
 a chance to destroy them. Next he showed them an immense 
 belt of wampum, saying that he had received it from the French 
 king, whose armies and war-canoes were already on the way to 
 sail up the St. Lawrence, and retake the forts from the English. 
 The Indians and their French brothers would again fight side 
 by side against the common foe, whose waving banners had 
 long, long ago been trailed in the bloody mire of defeat on 
 the Monongahela. 
 
 The orator having lashed his audience into fury, quickly 
 soothed them with the story of a Delaware Indian, probably 
 the prophet before mentioned, who had had a dream, in which 
 it was revealed to him that, by traveling in a certain direction, 
 he would at length reach the abode of the Great Spirit. 
 
 After many days of journeying, full of strange incidents, he 
 saw before him a vast mountain of dazzling whiteness, so pre 
 cipitous that he was about to turn back in despair when a 
 beautiful woman, arrayed in white, appeared to him, and 'told 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 241 
 
 him that, in order to proceed he must throw away his gun, 
 ammunition, provision and clothing, and wash in a stream of 
 crystalline purity, flowing near by. He obeyed, but again 
 failed to climb the mountain, when the vision reappeared and 
 told him he must climb with one hand and foot. So doing, he 
 succeeded, and at last came to a city of splendid dwellings. 
 Hesitating which to enter, a man, gorgeously attired, took him 
 by the hand, and led him into the largest one, where, astonished 
 by the unspeakable splendor which surrounded him, the poor 
 Delaware found himself in the presence of the Great Spirit. 
 
 The Great Spirit bade him to be seated, and addressed him, 
 saying that he was the Maker of heaven and earth, that he 
 had made this country for the Indian, and not for the white 
 man ; that as for the English, " these dogs dressed in red," the 
 Indians must lift the hatchet against them, and destroy them 
 from the face of the earth. Many other things did the Great 
 Spirit say to the Delaware before the latter found his way 
 back to his brothers. Pontiac next told the wide-laid plans for 
 the outbreak during the next moon, urged his auditors to go to 
 war, and, finally, laid before the vast council a stratagem for 
 the capture of Detroit. 
 
 He ended. A deep roar of applause burst forth. No one 
 was hardy enough to venture opposition to the proposal of their 
 great leader. Chief after chief arose, and with solemn empha 
 sis, entered his approval of the great Pontiac's conspiracy. 
 
 " The bold design 
 
 Pleased highly those infernal states, and joy 
 Sparkled in all their eyes. With full assent 
 They vote." 
 
 "With this conclusion the assembly dissolved, and all the 
 evening the women were busily employed in loading the canoes, 
 which were drawn up on the bank of the stream. The encamp 
 ments broke up at so early an hour, that when the sun rose, the 
 swarm had melted away, the secluded scene was restored to its 
 wonted silence and solitude, and nothing remained but the slen- 
 
242 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 der frame-work of several hundred cabins, with fragments of 
 broken utensils, pieces of cloth, and scraps of hide, scattered 
 over the trampled grass, while the smoldering embers of num 
 berless fires mingled their dark smoke with the white mist which 
 rose from the little river." 
 
 In 1763, the site of the city of Detroit, Michigan, was oc 
 cupied by a settlement of some twenty-five hundred people. In 
 the center of the long line of dwellings, with their little gardens, 
 straggling along the river shore for several miles, stood what was 
 known as the Fort. It was, in fact, a fortified part of the town. 
 It consisted of a palisade twenty-five feet high, with a bastion 
 at each corner, and block-houses over the gates. Within this 
 palisade were crowded a hundred small, wooden, straw-thatched 
 dwellings, crowded closely together, along narrow streets. Be 
 sides these incommodious dwellings, there was a little church, 
 a council-house, and a well-built range of barracks. A wide 
 roadway separated the houses from the palisade. 
 
 The garrison of the fort consisted of one hundred and 
 twenty English soldiers, under Major Gladwyn. Besides these, 
 were forty fur-traders, and the ordinary Canadian residents of 
 the fort. Several light pieces of artillery peeped out from the 
 bastions, and two armed schooners, the Beaver and the Gladivyn, 
 stood motionless in the stream. The settlement outside the fort, 
 stretching out more than eight miles along both sides of the 
 river, consisted of the dwellings of Canadians, and three Indian 
 villages. 
 
 It was the afternoon of the 5th of May. A Canadian woman 
 from the fort crossed the river to the Ottawa village, to buy 
 some maple sugar and venison. She noticed some warriors in 
 a strange occupation. They were filing off their gun-barrels. 
 This left the entire weapon, stock and all, only a yard in 
 length. Such a weapon could easily be hid under a blanket. 
 That night the woman mentioned it to a neighbor. " Oh," 
 said he, " that explains it." " Explains what ? " " The reason 
 why so many Indians have lately wanted to borrow my files." 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 
 
 243 
 
 He was a blacksmith. No more attention was paid to either 
 circumstance. 
 
 The next afternoon a plump and pretty Ojibwa maid came 
 to the fort. She was Gladwyn's mistress. But this time Cath 
 erine's eyes no longer sparkled with pleasure and excitement. 
 Her face was anxious, and her look furtive. She lingered long 
 at the gate till she could speak to Gladwyn alone. 
 
 The major at once saw that the girl knew something which 
 she feared, yet longed to tell. He caressed her, and sought to 
 
 CATHERINE REVEALS THE CONSPIRACY TO GLADWYN. 
 
 win her secret, but it was not for a long while, and under sol 
 emn promises that she should not be betrayed, that the dusky 
 sweetheart spoke. She said that on the morrow Pontiac would 
 come to the fort with sixty chiefs, and demand a council. Each 
 would be armed with a gun, cut short and hidden under his 
 blanket. When all were assembled in the council-house, at a given 
 signal from Pontiac, the chiefs would fire on the officers, then rush 
 out and massacre the garrison. Gladwyn believed the maid. 
 
 She went back to her people. The guards that night were 
 doubled. At times the watchers on the walls heard unwonted 
 
244 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 sounds, borne to them on the night wind from the distant vil 
 lages of the Indians. They were the steady beat of the Indian 
 drum, and the shrill choruses of the war-dance. 
 
 At the expected hour, Pontiac came, followed in single file 
 by his sixty chiefs. Each was wrapped to the throat in his 
 gaudy blanket, his face smeared with paint, and his head 
 adorned with nodding plumes. The leader started as he saw 
 the soldiers drawn up in line, and heard the ominous tap of 
 the drum. 
 
 The council took place, but under the encircling guns of the 
 soldiers. Pontiac saw that the plot was discovered. The signal 
 for attack was not given. After a short and uneasy sitting, he 
 and his chiefs withdrew with marked discomfiture and appre 
 hension. Better far had it been if Gladwyn had made prisoners 
 of the chiefs of the conspiracy. But he knew nothing of the 
 extent of the plot. He supposed it to be a fit of bad temper. 
 He allowed his enemies, and the arch-conspirator, Pontiac, to 
 slip through his fingers. Enraged at his defeat, and shrewdly 
 perceiving Gladwyn's ignorance of the real situation, Pontiac 
 returned the next day, to remove the suspicions of the garrison 
 by smoking the pipe of peace. 
 
 On the 9th of May a great throng of Indians appeared 
 before the fort. Pontiac was told that he might enter, but 
 his company must be excluded. Instantly the savage threw 
 off the mask of deceit he had worn so long, and, casting one 
 look of unspeakable rage and hate at the fort, he strode away 
 across the plain. At his approach, the whole horde of savages 
 rushed to an exposed cabin, where lived an old English woman 
 and her family. The doors were beaten in, and the inmates 
 tomahawked. On a neighboring island lived an Englishman 
 named Fisher. In a few moments he, too, was murdered. 
 
 That night, while the garrison watched with sleepless appre 
 hension, the whole Ottawa village was removed to that side of 
 the river on which stood the fort. "We will be nearer them," 
 said Pontiac. A messenger arrived at the fort with news. Two 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONT I AC. 245 
 
 Englishmen had been murdered on Lake St. Glair, and Pontiac 
 had been re-enforced by the whole war strength of the Ojibwas. 
 
 The garrison passed the night in feverish anxiety. Not till 
 the blush of dawn tinged the eastern sky did the fierce In 
 dians, yelling with infernal power, come bounding naked to the 
 assault; but when they came it was not the Ottawas alone, but 
 the Wyandots, the Pottawattamies and Ojibwas as well. For 
 six hours the cautious Indians, from behind trees, logs, and 
 cabins, showered their rifle-balls upon the fort with slight effect; 
 and for the same time the garrison ineffectually returned the 
 compliment. When the disappointed savages withdrew, Glad- 
 wyn, believing the affair ended, dispatched La Butte, a neutral 
 interpreter, accompanied by two old Canadians, to open negoti- 
 tions. Numbers of the Canadian inhabitants took this oppor 
 tunity of leaving the place. 
 
 Pontiac received the three ambassadors politely, and heard 
 their offers of peace with apparent acquiescence. La Butte 
 hastened back to the fort, reporting that a few presents would 
 fix up the difficulty, but when he returned to Pontiac he found 
 the negotiation had made no progress. After a consultation with 
 his chiefs, the treacherous Pontiac said that he desired Major 
 Campbell, the veteran soldier, second in command at the fort, to 
 come. When the word reached Campbell, he prepared at once 
 to go, in spite of Grladwyn's fear of treachery. The officer's 
 companion was Lieutenant McDougal. A Canadian met them, 
 and warned them that they were advancing into the lion's jaws, 
 but the brave officers refused to turn back. 
 
 As they entered the camp, a howling mob, armed with clubs 
 and rocks, surrounded them, but Pontiac quelled the tumult, 
 and conducted them to the council-house, where they were sur 
 rounded by sinister faces. Campbell made his speech. There 
 was no reply. For an hour he waited in dead silence before 
 the steady gaze of his dark-browed enemies. Not a chief 
 deigned to open his mouth. 
 
 At last Campbell rose to go. Pontiac made an imperious 
 
246 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 gesture for him to resume his seat. " My father/' said the wily 
 traitor, " will sleep to-night in the lodges of his red children." 
 Campbell expostulated, he argued the matter to Pontiac with 
 enforced calmness. Useless he was a captive. Late that 
 night La Butte returned with anxious face to the fort. Some 
 of the officers suspected him, no doubt unjustly, of a share in 
 the treachery. Feeling the suspicion, he stood in the narrow 
 street, gloomy and silent, refusing all efforts at conversation. 
 
 Pontiac proceeded to redistribute his forces. One band hid 
 in ambush along the river below the fort. Others surrounded 
 the fort on the land side. The garrison had only three weeks' 
 provisions. The Indians intended that this stock should not be 
 replenished. Every house in the fort was searched for grease, 
 tallow, or whatever would serve for food. Whatever was found 
 was placed in the public storehouse. 
 
 The Indians, unused to protracted sieges, also suffered from 
 want of provisions. The Canadian settlers were ruthlessly 
 despoiled of their stores. Aggravated beyond endurance, they 
 complained to Pontiac. He heard them. After that, each set 
 tler was required to contribute a certain quantity of food daily 
 to the Indians, but it was to be deposited in a certain place. If 
 any Indian entered a Canadian's premises, he was shot. 
 
 These dispositions on the part of Pontiac reveal his genius 
 for command. He was an Indian Napoleon. He did another 
 thing. After he had visited the house of each Canadian, examined 
 the property, and assigned the amount of provision to be fur 
 nished by the owner, he found he had nothing with which to pay 
 for it. In this emergency he hit upon a remarkable expedient. 
 He issued promissory notes, drawn upon birch bark, and signed 
 with the figure of an otter, the totem to which he belonged. 
 These notes were afterwards faithfully redeemed. This incident 
 is wonderful. The whole principle of paper money, the great 
 resource of modern statesmanship, was utilized by this savage. 
 It was an issue of greenbacks a war measure. 
 
 Pontiac kept two secretaries, one to write letters, one to read 
 
MAJOR CAMPBELL ARGUING WITH PONTIAC. 
 

THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 249 
 
 those received. Neither secretary knew what the other trans 
 acted. It is to be remembered that Pontiac maintained his 
 ascendancy among the Indians by the sheer force of his genius. 
 Accident, birth, fortune, laws, institutions, the power of the 
 government all these things which make and help the leaders 
 in a civilized country, were wanting. One day a bottle of 
 whisky was sent Pontiac as a present by our old friend, Rogers, 
 of Rogers's Rangers, who was in the fort. His counselors 
 urged him to let it alone, for fear of poison, As usual, he 
 listened respectfully to them. Then he at once drank a large 
 cupful, saying the man had no power to kill him. 
 
 Weeks rolled by with no change in the situation. Unawares 
 of any trouble at Detroit, the British commander-in-chief at 
 New York, had, as usual in the spring, sent a detachment up 
 the lakes with food, ammunition, and re-enforcements for the 
 forts along the lakes. In order to hasten this flotilla the 
 schooner Gladwyn was dispatched down the river. On the 
 30th of May some faint specks appeared on the watery horizon. 
 They grew larger and blacker. The sentry in the bastion called 
 aloud to the officers, who eagerly ran to look with spy-glasses. 
 They recognized the banner of St. George, under cover of which 
 advanced the expected fleet of canoes. Quick, joyous com 
 mands were given for a salute of welcome. 
 
 When the sound of the booming cannon of the fort died 
 away, every ear was strained to catch the response. It came, 
 faint but unmistakable a war-whoop, and not a salvo of 
 artillery. The faces of the watchers grew pale. The approach 
 ing flotilla was watched with breathless anxiety. When it was 
 well in view, a number of dark and savage forms rose up in the 
 leading canoe. The truth was manifest. The flotilla was in 
 the hands of the Indians. In the foremost of the eighteen 
 canoes, there were four prisoners and only three Indians. In 
 each of the others there were more savages than white men. 
 These latter were forced to row. 
 
 Just as the leading canoe was opposite the small schooner, 
 
250 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 which lay at anchor before the fort, one of the white men was 
 seen to seize the first savage by the hair and throw him over 
 board. The Indian clutched his adversary's clothes, and stabbing 
 him again and again, dragged him into the river, and locked in 
 a death embrace, the two floated down the stream. The two 
 remaining Indians jumped overboard, while the prisoners pulled 
 desperately toward the schooner, which they succeded in reach 
 ing, amid showers of bullets from the pursuing canoes. 
 
 The poor fellows told the story of their misfortune. After 
 coasting for days, without seeing a sign of life, the soldiers had 
 landed for a night encampment, when they were surrounded by 
 savages, and, after a desperate fight, overpowered. As was 
 afterwards discovered, only three, including the commander, 
 Lieutenant Cuyler, escaped. 
 
 The Indians besieging Detroit now had two causes for 
 rejoicing. One was the whisky of which the canoes, among 
 other supplies, of course, brought large quantities for the garri 
 sons. The other source of pleasure was the captives. Every 
 Indian took his choice, either to become drunk with liquor or 
 intoxicated with the fiercer frenzy of massacre. It was a 
 puzzling alternative. Many chose the latter. After every 
 species of torture and butchery, the poor, mutilated corpses 
 were thrown into the river, with knives sticking in their hearts. 
 Floating past the fort, they were seen by its defenders. The 
 gloom of despair settled upon them. At any time the slender 
 
 palisade might be cut or burned through, and then ! 
 
 Throngs of Indians, having proceeded to get blindly drunk 
 on whisky, sought consolation for their sorrow at not being 
 participants in the massacre. This they found in biting off 
 each other's noses, a cheerful and amusing sport, But even 
 this hilarious fun grew monotonous. Then they organized a 
 massacre of their own. Having no captives to kill, they killed 
 each other. 
 
 One afternoon the famished and anxious garrison heard the 
 dismal death-cry. A line of naked warriors extended across the 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 251 
 
 plain. Each savage was painted black, and carried a pole. At 
 the end of the poles were small, fluttering pennants. An officer 
 ran for a spy-glass. The pennants were discovered to be the 
 scalps of white men. What had happened ? 
 
 That night a Canadian crossed the river to the fort, bearing 
 the tidings. Fort Sandusky was about seventy miles south 
 east of Detroit. Its garrison was commanded by Ensign Paully. 
 About dark, on the evening of May 16th, there had been a 
 knocking at the gates. It proved to be a few Indians. It was 
 a time of peace. The Indians were well known to Paully. 
 What was more natural than to admit them ? The dark visitors 
 were seated in a circle in the council-house. The pipe of peace 
 was being handed from mouth to mouth. Suddenly the guests 
 sprang up, and in a hand to hand conflict butchered or over 
 powered the garrison. As the commander was hurried away 
 in a canoe, he saw the fort wrapped in flames, where he had, 
 fifteen minutes before, commanded in as he supposed monotonous 
 security. 
 
 Twenty-five miles south of the present town of Erie, then 
 Presqu 'Isle, stood a heavy block-house, known as Fort Le Bceuf. 
 Simultaneously with the treachery at Sandusky, a multitude of 
 howling savages surrounded the little post. By means of blaz 
 ing arrows the roof was fired. As the flames swept through 
 the structure, the savages poured in a continuous storm of balls, 
 expecting each moment that the garrison must be driven from 
 the building. 
 
 The brave men, however, chopped a hole through the heavy 
 logs in the rear of the building, and escaped, while the Indians 
 were still covering the doors and windows with their guns. The 
 refugees made their way to Fort Venango, to find only a heap 
 of red-hot coals. Of this post, not a single white man survived 
 to tellthe story of its fate. Overcome with suffering and starva 
 tion, most of the desolate band from Le Boeuf perished. Only 
 seven haggard and weary men succeeded in reaching Fort Pitt. 
 
 The magnitude of the Pontiac conspiracy and the powers 
 
252 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of combination which its creator possessed are demonstrated by 
 the widely separated points at which the smoldering flames of 
 Indian hostility simultaneously burst through the thin crust of 
 peace. Fort St. Joseph stood on the river of that name near 
 the southern shore of Lake Michigan. Here the priests of the 
 Roman Catholic Church had, for many years, maintained^ rude 
 temple of worship. Here, in the solitude of the wilderness, the 
 toil-worn fathers labored, without recompense, to plant in the 
 savage heart the germ of Christian faith. 
 
 One May morning a crowd of Indians pushed their way into 
 the fort under various pretexts. At a sudden signal, they ran 
 to the gates, tomahawked the sentinels, and threw them open to 
 a host of savages without. The little baud of fourteen soldiers 
 made a fluttering attempt to rally, but in less than two minutes, 
 as an eye-witness says, eleven of them were corpses, and the re 
 maining three made captives. 
 
 Everywhere the Indian attack was made by stratagem and 
 treachery. Everywhere their devilish ingenuity was successful. 
 Fort Ouatanon, situated on the Wabash river, a short distance 
 below the present flourishing and aristocratic city of Lafayette, 
 was captured in this way. The, Indians, however, did not 
 massacre the garrison. They were merely made captives. 
 About midway between Sandusky, St. Joseph, and Ouatanon, 
 that is, about one hundred and twenty-five or fifty miles from 
 each of them, on the Maumee river, stood another one of these 
 lonely and isolated wilderness posts Fort Miami. 
 
 One morning an Indian girl, a favorite of the commanding 
 officer, Holmes, came to the fort. Unlike the Ojibwa maid at 
 Detroit, this girl came to lure her lover into a trap. An old 
 squaw, she said, was lying sick in a wigwam, a short distance 
 from the fort, and she begged Holmes to come and see if he 
 could do any thing for her. The unsuspecting officer yielded to 
 the request. As he entered the lodge where the sick squaw was 
 supposed to lie, a dozen rifles were discharged, and he fell dead. 
 A sergeant, hearing the shots, ran out of the fort to see* what 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 253 
 
 was the matter, and met a similar fate. The panic-stricken gar 
 rison, possessing no longer a leader, threw open the gates and 
 surrendered. 
 
 The news of these disasters poured in thick and fast upon 
 the horror-stricken garrison at Detroit. It seemed to them that 
 the whole fabric of English supremacy in the wilderness was 
 falling around them. In the great San Domingo insurrection 
 of slaves, Toussaint L'Ouverture, their great leader, took a cup 
 full of gunpowder, and placed a few grains of rice on top. 
 Showing it to his officers, he said : " The black grains of powder 
 are the multitudes of negroes on the island. The few white 
 grains of rice on top are the few white men who are our 
 masters." Shaking the cup, the rice was quickly overwhelmed 
 and covered by the powder. " This," said he, " is the negro 
 rebellion." The illustration applies equally to the situation of 
 the defenders of Detroit ' at the time of which we write. But 
 the worst news was yet to come. 
 
 Fort Presqu 'Isle, standing near the present site of Erie, 
 was constructed on the lake shore, at the mouth of a small 
 brook. At one angle of the fort was a heavy block-house. Its 
 roof was of bark, and easily fired, but on the comb was an 
 opening, with a small bulwark of plank, where the guard could, 
 from behind this partial protection, pour water on the flames. 
 One lovely June morning, just as the rising sun shot his hori 
 zontal rays far across the blue expanse of Erie, tipping each 
 wave with gold, hideous yells broke the silence of the lonely 
 spot. The soldiers, catching the alarm, ran to the block-house. 
 
 Two hundred Indians had surrounded the post, and from be 
 hind some neighboring ridges of land discharged their guns at 
 every opening visible in the walls of the block-house. In a 
 short time fire arrows were showered on the roof. Again and 
 again it burst into flames. Again and again they were extin 
 guished. The tireless savages rolled logs to the summit of the 
 ridges, and from these loftier barricades were enabled to com 
 mand every point in the parade ground. Hour after hour the 
 
 14 
 
254 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 soldiers returned the shots of the savages. About two o'clock 
 the besiegers could be seen throwing up vast heaps of earth and 
 stone behind their breastworks. What did it mean? A mine? 
 
 The garrison had no time to speculate on this problem. A 
 more pressing danger was at hand. It was no longer possible 
 to procure water from the well in the parade ground. The 
 water barrels in the block-house were almost empty. Yet 
 almost every moment the flames curled upward from the bark 
 roof. The only resource was to dig a well in the block-house. 
 While a part of the men discharged their heated muskets from 
 the port-holes, the rest, with a strength inspired by the emer 
 gency, dug a hole in the ground. Before the well was finished 
 the last drop of water was poured on the roof. It caught again. 
 A soldier said, " I will put it out." He crawled out on the roof, 
 amid a storm of balls, and tore the blazing shingle from its 
 place. 
 
 Night came, but it brought little respite for the worn men. 
 Some slept, while the others watched. All night long the flash 
 of the enemy's guns startled the darkness. By morning the well 
 was finished. It was fortunate! The savages had dug a mine 
 to the commandant's cabin, which stood in the parade-ground. 
 The building was fired. So close did it stand to the block 
 house, that the walls of the latter scorched, blackened, then 
 burst into flames. Still the men passed water up from the 
 well, and choked and blinded with the hot, sulphurous air of 
 their wooden redoubt, fought with all the fury of the first 
 repulse. 
 
 All day the storm raged, and nightfall brought no interrup 
 tion. At midnight there was a sudden lull in the Indian fire. In 
 a moment a voice was heard from the breastworks, calling for a 
 surrender, saying that the speaker was an Englishman, who had 
 been taken captive in childhood, and. had espoused the Indian 
 cause; that the besiegers had now completed a mine to the 
 block-house itself, making its destruction certain ; that a surren 
 der would save the garrison's lives, while further resistance 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 255 
 
 would result in certain death. At daybreak, the pale and hag 
 gard defenders of the block-house looking, after their fiery 
 ordeal, almost like blackened specters, marched out and surren 
 dered. They were made captive, but not massacred. 
 
 The news at Detroit of the fall of Presqu 'Isle was only 
 surpassed in tragic importance by that of the fall of Michilli- 
 mackinac. 
 
 The pleasure seeker who spends a summer on the lovely 
 Island of Mackinaw, with its white cliffs, its piny woods, its 
 " Tower Rock," and " Devil's Kitchen," its old fort and venera 
 ble hotels, its meandering drives, and all the quiet scenes which 
 go to make up the Mackinaw of to-day, is impressed with a 
 sense of its antiquity. The prevailing air of decay, the old- 
 time buildings of the Old Mission and Island House hotels, the 
 quaint manners of the resident population, the rotting sail boats, 
 which lie at abandoned wharves, all tend to make this impression. 
 
 The old fort looks as if it had been built in some remote 
 age. Every thing is antique, quiet, un-American. Our summer 
 traveler is completely shut in from the roar and bustle of the 
 busy world. Mails come twice a week, or rather did a year or 
 two ago, when the writer spent a summer there. The only 
 event of the day is the arrival of some steamer. One feels as 
 if the clock had been turned back a hundred years. 
 
 Drinking in the pure and bracing atmosphere, indulging in 
 such quiet sports as the place affords, he soon learns to love 
 the island. Sometimes he spends a day in fishing. More often 
 he wanders with some friends through the woods. Now he 
 joins his lady friends, and visiting the few little stores, inspects 
 the stocks of Indian ware. Birch bark canoes, from six inches 
 to three feet long, pipes, bows and arrows, birch baskets, all 
 these he finds in immense quantities. 
 
 Lower down on the island he will find the shanties of the 
 Indians who manufacture these articles. Stolid, copper-colored 
 men, with straight, black hair, everlastingly smoking tobacco 
 pipes, lounge around on benches in the open air on a summer 
 
256 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 day. Now and then a grunt or a guttural ejaculation breaks 
 the silence. That is all. They look sullen and sad. Too 
 infinitely lazy to do any work, they seem simply to be waiting, 
 waiting the extinction of their race. Yet these are the descend 
 ants of the fierce Ojibwas, whose principal village occupied the 
 Island of Mackinaw in the year 1763. 
 
 So the air of antiquity which hangs about Mackinaw is an 
 illusion. In 1763 no white man resided on the island. It was 
 the home of the terrible Ojibwa chief. Fifteen miles to the 
 south, across the beautiful straits, in which the blue waters of 
 Michigan meet and mingle with the fresh tides of Huron, near 
 the site of old Mackinaw, stood the fort of Michillimackinac, at 
 the time of which we write. 
 
 This post was in 1763 nearly a hundred years old, while the 
 Island of Mackinaw was yet only the seat of an Indian town. 
 Parkman describes the post as it was on the eventful morning 
 of June 4, 1763. The houses and barracks, containing thirty 
 families, and a garrison of thirty-five men, were arranged in a 
 square, inclosing a considerable area. Outside of this square 
 was a larger one, formed by the high palisades. "In the vacant 
 space inclosed by the houses, appeared the red uniforms of 
 British soldiers, the gray coats of Canadians, and the gaudy 
 blankets of Indians, mingled in picturesque confusion. Women 
 and children were moving about the doors; knots of Canadian 
 voyagers reclined on the ground, smoking and conversing; 
 soldiers were lounging listlessly at the doors and windows of 
 the barracks, or strolling in undress about the area." 
 
 There was absolutely no suspicion of danger. Yet the gar 
 rison had had warnings plain enough to put the British on their 
 guard. Several Canadians had warned them that the Indians 
 were plotting their destruction. The commander of the fort, 
 Captain Etherington, did not overlook these warnings. He 
 threatened to send the next alarmist in chains to Detroit ! Only 
 the day before the tragic fourth of June an .Indian named 
 Wawatam, who had taken a fancy to Alexander Henry, a trader, 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 257 
 
 who was in the fort, came . over and first advised, then urged, 
 and finally begged Henry, on his knees, to leave the fort that 
 night. In vain ! 
 
 All that day unusual throngs of Indians had visited the 
 fort. Their special demand was for guns, hatchets, and knives. 
 Valuable articles of jewelry were also called for, the place of their 
 keeping carefully marked, and then the treacherous customers 
 would leave, saying, "We will call to-morrow." This remark 
 was deeply significant. What was the real state of affairs? 
 
 The news of Pontiac's attack on Detroit, at the head of the 
 Ottawas and their neighbors, had inflamed the Ojibwas of Mack 
 inaw. With the exception of the tribes around Detroit, the 
 State of Michigan was occupied by the Ottawas and . Ojibwas. 
 Their territory was separated about equally by a line running 
 south from Michillimackinac. The western, or Ottawa, tribe 
 had their principal village, L'Arbre Croche, on what is now 
 Little Traverse Bay. At the head of this lovely inlet now 
 stands the bustling town of Petosky, while a pocket in the 
 shore of the bay forms a quiet harbor which the wildest storm 
 scarcely ripples. The spot where now stands the microscopic 
 settlement of Harbor Springs was once occupied by the popu 
 lous lodges of the Ottawas. 
 
 The original plan was for the warriors of L'Arbre Croche to 
 unite with the Ojibwas of Mackinaw in the attack on the fort. 
 But so jealous were the latter that they resolved on carrying 
 out the plot without telling their neighbors. 
 
 The scene outside the fort on the morning of June 4, 1763, 
 was quite different from that we have described within the 
 palisade. The plain in front was covered by throngs of Indians 
 engaged in ball playing. The gates of the palisade were wide 
 open. Groups of soldiers stood in the shade of the palisade 
 looking at the sport. Most of them were without their arms. 
 Sober Indian chiefs stood as if intently watching the fortunes 
 of the game. In fact, however, their thoughts were far other 
 wise employed. Large numbers of squaws also mingled in the 
 
258 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 throng, collecting chiefly near the open gates. In spite of the 
 warm day they were wrapped to the throat in blankets. The 
 game of ball or baggattaway was between the Ojibwas and the 
 neighboring Sacs. At either extremity of the open ground 
 stood a post, which constituted the station of one of the parties. 
 Except that the ball was smaller and that a bat much like those 
 used in lawn tennis served instead of the kick, the game was 
 identical with our well known foot-ball. 
 
 The ball was started from the middle of the ground, and the 
 game was for each side to keep it from touching their own post, 
 and drive it against that of their adversaries. The game was 
 played on this morning with unprecedented fury and abandon. 
 Hundreds of naked Indians were running, jumping, bounding 
 over each other, turning hand-springs, executing aerial somer 
 saults, striking with the bats, tripping each other up, every 
 way, any way, to get at the ball and foil the adversary. Now 
 they surged together in a knotted mass, struggling furiously for 
 the ball; now the sphere rose high in air, with the players 
 bounding after it like hounds, with hilarious uproar. 
 
 Suddenly the ball rose high, and descending in a wide curve, 
 fell near the gate. It was no chance stroke. The players 
 instantly bounded toward the ball, but just as they reached the 
 neighborhood of the gates the shouts of sport changed suddenly 
 to the ominous war-whoop. The squaws threw open their 
 blankets, and withdrawing therefrom guns, hatchets, and knives, 
 the players instantly flung away their bats, seized the weapons, 
 and fell upon the defenseless garrison and traders. Fifteen of 
 the garrison were butchered outright. 
 
 The story of Alexander Henry, the trader, is full of interest. 
 At the time the war-whoop was raised, he was in his room writ 
 ing letters. 
 
 " Going instantly to my window, I saw a crowd of Indians 
 within the fort, furiously cutting down and scalping every 
 Englishman they found. 
 
 "I had in the room in which I was a fowling-piece, loaded 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 259 
 
 with swan-shot. This I immediately seized, and held it for a 
 few minutes, waiting to hear the drum beat to arms. In this 
 dreadful interval I saw several of my countrymen fall, and more 
 than one struggling between the knees of an Indian, who, hold 
 ing him in this manner, scalped him while yet living. 
 
 "At length, disappointed in the hope of seeing resistance 
 made to the enemy, and sensible, of course, that no effort of my 
 own unassisted arm could avail against four hundred Indians, I 
 thought only of seeking shelter. Amid the slaughter which 
 was raging, I observed many of the Canadian inhabitants of the 
 fort calmly looking on, neither opposing the Indians, nor suffer 
 ing injury; and from this circumstance I conceived a hope of 
 finding security in their houses. 
 
 "Between the yard-door of my own house and that of M. 
 Langlade, my next neighbor, there was only a low fence, over 
 which I easily climbed. At my entrance I found the whole 
 family at the windows, gazing at the scene of blood before them. 
 I addressed myself immediately to M. Langlade, begging that 
 he would put me into some place of safety, until the heat of 
 the affair should be over, an act of charity by which he might 
 perhaps preserve me from the general massacre ; but while I 
 uttered my petition, M. Langlade, who had looked for a moment 
 at me, turned again to the window, shrugging his shoulders, and 
 intimating that he could do nothing for me, 'Que voudriez-vous 
 que fen ferais ? 
 
 "This was a moment for despair; but the next, a Pani 
 woman,* a slave of M. Langlade's, beckoned to me to follow 
 her. She brought me to a door, which she opened, desiring me 
 to enter, and telling me that it led to the garret, where I must 
 go and conceal myself. I joyfully obeyed her directions ; and 
 she, having followed me up to the garret-door, locked it after 
 me, and with great presence of mind took away the key. 
 
 "This shelter obtained, if shelter I could hope to find it, I 
 
 * Usually written Pawnee. This tribe lived west of the Mississippi, and was 
 frequently at war with the northern nations. This woman was a captive of war. 
 
260 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 was naturally anxious to know what might still be passing with 
 out. Through an aperture, which afforded me a view of the 
 area of the fort, I beheld, in shapes the foulest and most ter 
 rible, the ferocious triumphs of barbarian conquerors. 
 
 " The dead were scalped and mangled ; the dying were writh 
 ing and shrieking under the unsatiated knife and -tomahawk; 
 and from the bodies of some, ripped open, their butchers were 
 drinking the blood, scooped up in the hollow of joined hands, 
 and quaffed amid shouts of rage and victory. I was shaken not 
 only with horror, but with fear. The sufferings which I wit 
 nessed, I seemed on the point of experiencing. No long time 
 elapsed before, every one being destroyed who could be found, 
 there was a general cry of 'All is finished !' At the same 
 instant I heard some of the Indians enter the house in which 
 I was. 
 
 "The garret was separated from the room below only by a 
 layer of single boards, at once the flboring of the one and the 
 ceiling of the other. I could therefore hear every thing that 
 passed; and the Indians no sooner came in than they inquired 
 whether or not any Englishmen were in the house. M. Lang-' 
 lade replied that 'he could not say; he did not know of any;' 
 answers in which he did not exceed the truth ; for the Pani 
 woman had not only hidden me by stealth, but kept my secret 
 and her own. M. Langlade was therefore, as I presume, as far 
 from a wish to destroy me as he was careless about saving me, 
 when he 'added to these answers, that ' they might examine for 
 themselves, and would soon be satisfied as to the object of their 
 question.' Saying this, he brought them to the garret-door. 
 
 " The state of my mind will be imagined. Arrived at the 
 door, some delay was occasioned by the absence of the key, 
 and a few moments were thus allowed me in which to look 
 around for a hiding-place. In one corner of the garret was a 
 heap of those vessels of birch-bark, used in maple-sugar making, 
 as I have recently described. 
 
 "The door was unlocked and opening, and the Indians 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 261 
 
 ascending the stairs, before I had completely crept into a small 
 opening which presented itself at one end of the heap. An 
 instant after, four Indians entered the room, all armed with 
 tomahawks, and all besmeared with blood upon every part of 
 their bodies. 
 
 " The die appeared to be cast. I could scarcely breathe ; but 
 I thought that the throbbing of my heart occasioned a noise 
 loud enough to betray me. The Indians walked in every direc 
 tion about the garret, and one of them approached me so closely 
 that at a particular moment, had he put forth his hand, he must 
 have touched me. Still I remained undiscovered ; a circum 
 stance to which the dark color of my clothes, and the want of 
 light in a room which had no window, and in the corner in 
 which I was, must have contributed. In a word, after taking 
 several turns in the room, during which they told M. Langlade 
 how many they had killed, and how many scalps they had 
 taken, they returned down stairs, and I, with sensations not to 
 be expressed, heard the door, which was the barrier between 
 me and my fate, locked for the second time. 
 
 " There was a feather-bed on the floor ; and on this, exhausted 
 as I was by the agitation of my mind, I threw myself down and 
 fell asleep. In this state I remained till the dusk of the even 
 ing, when I was awakened by a second opening of the door. 
 The person that now entered was M. Langlade's wife, who was 
 much surprised at finding me, but advised me not to be uneasy, 
 observing that the Indians had killed most of the English, but 
 that she hoped I might myself escape. A shower of rain hav 
 ing begun to fall, she had come to stop a hole in the roof. On 
 her going away, I begged her to send me a little water to drink, 
 which she did. 
 
 "As night was now advancing, I continued to lie on the bed, 
 ruminating on my condition, but unable to discover a resource 
 from which I could hope for life. A flight to Detroit had no 
 probable chance of success. The distance from Michillimacki- 
 nac was four hundred miles; I was without provisions; and the 
 
262 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 whole length of the road lay through Indian countries, countries 
 of an enemy in arms, where the first man whom I should meet 
 would kill- me. To stay where I was, threatened nearly the 
 same issue. As before, fatigue of mind, and not tranquillity, 
 suspended my cares, and procured me further sleep, 
 
 " The respite which sleep afforded me during the night was 
 put an end to by the return of morning. I was again on the 
 rack of apprehension. At sunrise I heard the family stirring, 
 and presently after Indian voices, informing M. Langlade that 
 they had not found my hapless self among the dead, and that 
 they supposed me to be somewhere concealed. M. Langlade 
 appeared, from what followed, to be by this time acquainted 
 with the place of my retreat, of which, no doubt, he had been 
 informed by his wife. The poor woman, as soon as the Indians 
 mentioned me, declared to her husband, in the French tongue, 
 that he should no longer keep me in his house, but deliver me 
 up to my pursuers ; giving as a reason for this measure, that, 
 should the Indians discover his instrumentality in my conceal 
 ment, they might revenge it on her children, and that it was 
 better that I should die than they. 
 
 " M. Langlade resisted at first this sentence of his wife's, but 
 soon suffered 'her to prevail, informing the Indians that he had 
 been told I was in his house, that I had come there without 
 his knowledge, and that he would put me into their hands. 
 This was no sooner expressed than he began to ascend the 
 stairs, the Indians following upon his heels. 
 
 " I now resigned myself to the fate with which I was men 
 aced, and regarding every attempt at concealment as vain, I 
 arose from the bed, and presented myself full in view to 
 the Indians who were entering the room. They were all in 
 a state of intoxication, and entirely naked, except about the 
 middle. 
 
 " One of them, named Wenniway, whom I had previously 
 known, and who was upward of six feet in height, had his 
 entire face and body entirely covered with charcoal and grease, 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 263 
 
 only that a white spot, of two inches in diameter, encircled 
 either eye. This man, walking up to me, seized me with one 
 hand by the collar of the coat, while, in the other, he held a 
 large carving-knife, as if to plunge it into my breast. His eyes, 
 meanwhile, were fixed steadfastly on mine. At length, after 
 some seconds of the most anxious suspense, he dropped his arm, 
 saying, ' I won't kill you !' To this he added that he had been 
 frequently engaged in wars against the English, and had brought 
 away many scalps ; that on a certain occasion he had lost a 
 brother, whose name was Musinigon, and that I should be called 
 after him. 
 
 "A reprieve upon any terms placed me among the living, 
 and gave me back the sustaining voice of hope ; but Wenniway 
 ordered me down stairs, and there informing me that I was to 
 be taken to his cabin, where, and indeed everywhere else, the 
 Indians were all mad with liquor, death again was threatened, 
 and not as possible only, but as certain. I mentioned my fears 
 on this subject to M. Langlade, begging him to represent the 
 danger to my master. M. Langlade, in this instance, did not 
 withhold his compassion, and Wenniway immediately consented 
 that I should remain where I was, until he found another oppor 
 tunity to take me away. Thus far secure, I re-ascended my 
 garret-stairs, in order to place myself the farthest possible out 
 of the reach of drunken Indians." 
 
 In an hour a rough voice again summoned Henry from his 
 hiding-place. The savage ordered him to strip, and then follow 
 him. The fellow owed Henry for some goods, and as he 
 carried a dangerous knife, Henry feared that he was to be 
 murdered. The Indian conducted his prisoner some distance, 
 when Henry, finding that their way led to a lonely and hidden 
 spot behind some sandhills, stopped and told the Indian he 
 believed it was a plot to murder him. The savage coolly replied 
 that it was, and raising his knife, was about to suit the action 
 to the word, when Henry turned and ran with all his might to 
 the fort. The savage followed with uplifted knife, but the 
 
264 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 trader regained the house from which he had been taken, and 
 the pursuit was abandoned. 
 
 The next morning Henry, with two other prisoners, was 
 placed in a canoe, to be taken by several Indians to the Isles 
 du Castor. When well out of the straits and into Lake Mich 
 igan, a heavy fog and stormy weather caused them to hug the 
 gloomy coast. When within twenty miles of L'Arbre Croche, 
 a hundred Indians suddenly jumped out of the woods into the 
 surf, dragged the canoe ashore, and while making captives of 
 the guards, explained to the three Englishmen that their lives 
 had been saved by the Ottawas, as the Ojibwas were going to 
 eat them. In a short time the Ottawas embarked for the fort, 
 and Henry started back, arriving at Michillimackinac, the 
 Ottawas coolly took possession of the fort and proceeded to 
 abuse the Ojibwas for springing the trap without notifying their 
 brothers. Henry hoped to be freed, but the two tribes patched 
 up the quarrel, and he again found himself a prisoner of the 
 Ojibwas. 
 
 The latter removed the disappointed man to a neighbor 
 town. Here, by strange good fortune, the trader met his friend 
 Wawatam, who had given the unheeded warning. The Indian 
 possessed more than the ordinary nobility of the human heart. 
 He at once asked the council to set his friend free, and his elo 
 quent appeal was emphasized at every pause by presents, which 
 literally impoverished the savage. His request was granted, 
 and Henry found himself established in an Indian family, on the 
 footing of a brother of Wawatam. 
 
 On the morning following his release, Henry, whose fears 
 were by no means quieted, was alarmed by a noise in the prison 
 lodge from which he had been removed. "Looking through the 
 openings of the lodge in which I was, I saw seven dead bodies of 
 white men dragged forth. Upon my inquiry into the occasion, 
 I was informed that a certain chief, called by the Canadians Le 
 Grand Sable, had not long before arrived from his winter's 
 hunt; and that he, having been absent when the war began, 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 265 
 
 and being now desirous of manifesting to the Indians at large 
 his hearty concurrence in what they had done, had gone into 
 the prison-lodge, and there with his knife put the seven men 
 whose bodies I had seen, to death. 
 
 " Shortly after, two of the Indians took one of the dead 
 bodies, which they chose as being the fattest, cut off the head, 
 and divided the whole into five parts, one of which was put into 
 each of five kettles, hung over as many fires, kindled for this 
 purpose, at the door of the prison-lodge. Soon after things 
 were so far prepared, a message came to our lodge, with an invi 
 tation to Wawatam to assist at the feast. An invitation to a 
 feast is given by him who is the master of it. Small cuttings 
 of cedar wood, of about four inches in length, supply the place 
 of cards; and the bearer by word of mouth states the particulars. 
 
 "Wawatam obeyed the summons, taking with him, as is 
 usual, to the place of entertainment, his dish and spoon. 
 
 "After an absence of about half an hour, he returned, bring 
 ing in his dish a human hand, and a large piece of flesh. He 
 did not appear to relish the repast, but told me that it was then 
 and always had been the custom among all the Indian nations, 
 when returning from war, or on overcoming their enemies, to 
 make a war-feast from among the slain. This he said inspired 
 the warrior with courage in attack, and bred him to meet death 
 with fearlessness." 
 
 Soon after this agreeable information, Henry learned that 
 the Indians were going to remove to the Island of Mackinaw, 
 which was accordingly done. One day the Indians captured a 
 couple of canoes from Montreal, carrying a quantity of liquor. 
 The savages began to drink heavily, a proceeding full of danger 
 to every one near. Wawatam told Henry that he was bound to 
 get drunk, and that it would not be safe for the Englishman to 
 remain where he was during the debauch. Wawatam therefor 
 conducted him to a cave in the center of the island, where he 
 was to hide himself until the liquor was all gone. 
 
 Henry broke some branches from the trees, and spreading 
 
266 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 them down in a corner of the cave for a bed, went to sleep. 
 During the night he felt some hard substance under him, and 
 groping for it, seized some kind of a bone, and threw it away. 
 Not till morning did he discover that "he was lying on nothing 
 less than a heap of human bones and skulls, which covered all 
 the floor." He remained in this cheerful apartment a day or 
 two without food, until Mr. Wawatam, with swollen eyes and 
 thick utterance, staggered up to the cave, and told him the 
 drunk was over. For more than a year Henry lived with his 
 protector, Wawatam, hunting through the gloomy forests of 
 Michigan, before he finally succeeded in making his way to 
 Montreal. 
 
 When Henry had met with his friend Wawatam, and been 
 adopted into his family, the other survivors of the massacre 
 were still kept by the Ottawas at Fort Michillimackinac, whence 
 they were removed to L'Arbre Croche. Captain Etherington 
 dispatched a letter to Lieutenant Gorell, the commander of the 
 little post of Green Bay. The latter was requested to bring 
 all his force to the relief of the prisoners. Gorell was on the 
 point of obeying and abandoning his post, when the neighboring 
 Indians intimated that his departure would be prevented. The 
 threat might have been carried out had not a messenger from 
 the terrible Dakota nation, with its thirty thousand braves, 
 arrived with words of loyalty to the English, and denouncing 
 with threatenings and slaughter, every tribe which was unfaith 
 ful to them. This sentiment must be attributed to no loftier 
 source than the ancient hostility of the Dakotas to the Ojibwas. 
 Gorell was now allowed to depart, and making his way to the 
 Ottawa village, negotiated the release of the prisoners. 
 
 On July 18, 1763, they embarked in their canoes for Mon 
 treal, reaching there more than a year sooner than Henry. 
 With the fall of Michillimackinac, and the abandonment of Green 
 Bay, the Detroit garrison found itself left alone in the wilder 
 ness. There was not a British soldier west of Fort Niagara, 
 except those behind the palisades of Detroit. 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 267 
 
 We have wandered far from the story of the defenders of 
 Detroit. The news of the disasters which we have related 
 was received by the despairing garrison with sad punctuality. 
 Meanwhile, though we have neglected to follow their fortunes or 
 misfortunes, events crowded each other in this remarkable siege. 
 
 One night some friendly Canadians, from the other side of 
 the river, reported at the fort that there were rumors among 
 the Indians that the schooner Gladwyn was coming up the river. 
 This vessel had gone down to hasten Cuyler's ill-fated expedi 
 tion. Having passed the flotilla, which was yet voyaging pros 
 perously, she held on her way to Niagara. She was still riding 
 at anchor in the smooth river above the falls, at the time when 
 Cuyler and two companions, haggard and exhausted, reached 
 the fort with the story of the disaster, and of themselves alone 
 being left to tell the tale. 
 
 A force of sixty men was at once placed on board the 
 schooner, with such ammunition and supplies as could be spared 
 from the fort. She had made her way up the river, and was 
 about to undertake the few dangerous miles which separated her 
 from the fort. The garrison fired two guns to let the crew 
 know that the fort still held out. This done, they waited. 
 
 The schooner, meanwhile, weighed anchor and started up 
 the narrow channel between the shore and Fighting Island. 
 Just as she reached the narrowest part, the afternoon breeze 
 grew more and more gentle, and at last died away, leaving the 
 white sails drooping idly in the air. Nothing is so absolutely 
 helpless as a sail-vessel without a favoring wind. It is hardly 
 possible to understand how the commerce of the globe was car 
 ried on entirely by means of them until within the present cen 
 tury. The anchor chain rattled off rapidly from the capstan. 
 The great iron fluke disappeared in the water, and energetically 
 grabbed the bottom of the river. The vessel was standing still, 
 within gunshot of an Indian ambush. 
 
 As the sun sank to rest in his couch of flame, the guards 
 on board the vessel were doubled. Hour after hour their 
 
268 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 strained eyes sought to penetrate the darkness. At last, the 
 plash of muffled oars was heard. Dark objects came mov 
 ing swiftly down the river toward the vessel. Every man was 
 silently summoned on deck. A blow of a hammer on the mast 
 was to be the signal for firing. The long black canoes approached 
 the dark and silent schooner. The Indians thought the prize 
 was theirs. At last the hammer struck the mast. The slumber 
 ing vessel burst into a blaze of cannon and musketry. The 
 hostile fleet was demoralized. Many Indians were killed. Some 
 canoes were sunk outright. As the enemy opened fire from 
 their barricade, the schooner weighed anchor, and, drifting with 
 the river's tide, floated down out of danger. 
 
 The following day the passage was again attempted, this 
 time with success. The beleaguered garrison received the much- 
 needed supplies of men, ammunition, and provision. 
 
 Pontiac was disappointed. Everywhere success had crowned 
 the conspiracy except that part of it which he superintended 
 himself. For forty days his genius and resolution had held his 
 restless followers to the dull monotony of the siege. How much 
 longer could he do it? His uneasiness manifested itself. One 
 thing which showed it was his attempt to force the neighboring 
 Canadians to lend active assistance. He called them together 
 in council, made a long speech, told them that he fought for the 
 king of France, their sovereign ; that if they were loyal French 
 men they must lend their help ; that if they were friendly to 
 the English, and would not join in the war against them, then 
 he would make war on them as enemies of France. 
 
 All men can, on occasion, be hypocrites. Some of the Cana 
 dians pretended to take up the hatchet and join in the siege. 
 This accession required a celebration. Pontiac ordered a feast 
 of dogs. In every one of all the numberless wigwams which 
 formed the besieging lines, a dog was slain, and the flesh eaten. 
 If an Indian happened to dislike the dish, it was so much the 
 worse for him. An enormous piece of the delicacy was placed 
 before him. By all the laws of Indian society and etiquette, 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 269 
 
 he was not allowed to rise from the repast till he had eaten 
 every bit of the meat. 
 
 Another incident revealed Pontiac's rage. It is hard even 
 for a great leader to hide his real feelings from his followers. 
 At first he had protected Major Campbell from Indian cruelty. 
 But his red retainers now read a new lesson in his imperious 
 eye. The captive was murdered in his prison. 
 
 The two schooners in the bay were regarded by the Indians 
 with mingled rage and superstition. The broadsides with which 
 their camps were bombarded, the white wings which they 
 spread, the mysterious control of their movements by the sailors, 
 the knowledge that the schooners served to connect the other 
 wise isolated garrison with the rest of the world, inspired the 
 savages with apprehension and fury. 
 
 One night in July, the lookout on one of the schooners 
 saw a glowing speck of flame far up the river. It came 
 nearer, growing brighter and brighter as it approached. The 
 white beach along the river front, the dark pine trees in the 
 background, were lit up by the illumination, revealing dense 
 throngs of Indians crowded along the water's edge. The pali 
 sades of the fort, and the spars and rigging of the vessels, 
 glowed like fire itself. Far across the harbor the waves were 
 reddened with the light. The anxious soldiers of the garrison 
 could be seen, watching with anxiety the singular apparition. 
 As the flaming object came nearer, it was discovered to be a 
 fire-raft. The inventive genius of Pontiac had caused a number 
 of canoes to be lashed together, and a vast quantity of com 
 bustibles to be piled on the structure. A torch was applied, 
 and the thing of destruction was pushed off into the current. 
 
 . But fortune or providence protected the schooners. The 
 blazing monster, sending up vast volumes of roaring flames, 
 missed them by a hundred feet, and floated harmlessly down 
 the river, consuming nothing but itself. As the relieved soldiers 
 and sailors watched it receding into the night, the light grew 
 fainter and fainter, until, at last, with a mighty hiss, the demon 
 
 15 
 
270 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of fire plunged into the watery depths, as if to drown its sor 
 row at the wretched failure. This attempt was made again 
 and again, but the crews of the vessel arranged a barricade 
 of boats and chains, which foiled every effort. 
 
 Unknown to the garrison, Captain Dalzell was on his way to 
 Detroit with two barges, two hundred and eighty men, several 
 small cannon, and a fresh supply of provision and ammunition. 
 Under cover of night and fog, they reached the fort in safety, 
 having been attacked only once, a conflict which, however, 
 resulted in the loss of fifteen men. Boat after boat discharged 
 its loads on shore amid the cheers of the soldiers and the 
 booming of cannon. Among the arrivals was Major Rogers, of 
 Rogers's Rangers, with twenty of his old followers. 
 
 Captain Dalzell, on the day of his arrival, much against 
 Gladwyn's advice, insisted on attacking the Indians. These 
 had been forced, by the cannonading from the schooners, to 
 remove their camp to the rear of a great marsh, several miles 
 from the fort. 
 
 At two o'clock on the morning of July 31st, the gates of the 
 palisades were noiselessly opened, and two hundred and fifty 
 men marched down the road along the river shore. Not a 
 sound was heard in the still night but the muffled footfalls of 
 the soldiery and the occasional rattle of an officer's sword. Close 
 to the river shore, keeping pace with the troops, two bateaux, 
 each carrying a swivel gun, were rowed with stealthy stroke. 
 The starlit sky was moonless. But for the fresh lake breeze, 
 which sighed among the foliage of the overhanging forest, the 
 midsummer night would have been intolerably sultry. On the 
 right of the winding road lay the river, with its dark and 
 restless tide ; on the left, the houses and farms of Canadian 
 settlers. 
 
 A mile and a half from the fort the road wound over a 
 narrow, wooden bridge which spanned a small stream, and then 
 crossed a succession of ridges lying parallel with the rivulet. 
 These ridges were crowned with low barricades. The spot had 
 
ARRIVAL OF DALZELL WITH SUPPLIES. 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 273 
 
 been Pontiac's old camp. On either side of the road were vast 
 piles of firewood, cut by the Canadians, and stumps of trees 
 from which the fuel had been cut. Here was a long line of 
 heavy picket fence, inclosing several orchards. There, on rising 
 ground, stood the house of a Canadian named Meloche. Over 
 it all hung the pall of darkness and mist from the river which 
 made the various objects indistinct. 
 
 The soldiers supposed their attack would be a complete sur 
 prise to Pontiac. Yet, in spite of this, the men shuddered as 
 they filed down the descent which led across the narrow, wooden 
 bridge. The ravine looked lonely and suspicious. The spot 
 seemed fit for a massacre. 
 
 The advance guard had proceeded half-way across the bridge. 
 Suddenly there was a wild war-whoop in the darkness, and the 
 ridges, the intrenchments, the orchard fence, the black wood 
 piles, the half-chopped logs, whatever could afford. a shelter to 
 a savage, burst into flame. Half the advanced guard fell at the 
 first fire. The unhurt men fled to the rear, and in a moment 
 the whole column wavered. Dalzell dashed to the front. His 
 clear voice rang out above the infernal din. The men rallied, 
 and in a spasm of rage, charged across the bridge and up the 
 opposite slope. It was sad folly. Before one-third of the way 
 up the slope, every howling Indian had fled to another spot, 
 from which he could fire upon the English. The latter pushed 
 on with the courage of insanity. The charge which they main 
 tained so stubbornly was a bloody mockery. The lines were 
 broken and entangled in a labyrinth of fences, outhouses, 
 trees, and woodpiles, from behind which the red foes kept up 
 a murderous fire. 
 
 To advance was madness. To halt was folly. To retreat 
 was a necessity. One company, under Captain Grant, hurried 
 back across the bridge, and taking possession of the road pre 
 pared to cover the retreat. The two bateaux had been rowed 
 up the creek to the bridge, and the dead and wounded were 
 hurriedly placed on board. A heavy fire was poured in upon 
 
274 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the English during this last office of friendship. All at once 
 a concentrated volley was received from another direction. 
 The men of Grant's company turned to find a body of Indians 
 strongly posted on their left flank about the house of Meloche 
 and the neighboring orchards. To stop the deadly cross-fire, 
 Grant's men charged up the hill, and, at the point of the bayo 
 net, drove the savages from the orchards and house. In the 
 latter were two Canadians. They said the English should 
 retreat at once to the fort, as large numbers of Indians had 
 posted themselves on the road in the rear. 
 
 The situation was critical. The men retreated rapidly and 
 without serious opposition for a half mile. At this spot the 
 road again ran through a region thickly planted with houses 
 and fences. Here, also, was a newly dug cellar for a house. 
 This pit was near the road. It was full of Indians. As the 
 center of the column arrived opposite the ambuscade, a heavy 
 volley of balls was discharged at the soldiers. 
 
 Already unnerved by the disaster at the bridge, the men 
 were well-nigh panic-stricken at this new surprise. They 
 started down the road in wild confusion, breaking ranks, tram 
 pling on each other, throwing away their weapons, any way, 
 every way, to fly from the storm of bullets. Dalzell, with 
 drawn sword, shouted at the men, and forced some to stop. 
 Others he seized by the shoulders and held. He was twice 
 wounded, but paused not till his panic-stricken command was 
 rallied. 
 
 It was almost daybreak. But a dense fog from the river, 
 illuminated by incessant flashes from the enemy's guns, never 
 theless concealed the enemy. Finally it grew light enough to 
 discern the shadowy outline of a house, of which the Indians 
 had taken possession, and from the windows of which they 
 poured murderous volleys upon the little band of Englishmen. 
 This house commanded the road along which the men must 
 pass to reach the fort. Major Rogers, with his handful of 
 Hangers, burst in the door of the house with an ax, and, in a 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 275 
 
 fearful hand-to-hand conflict, killed every Indian in the house 
 who did not fly. Another detachment charged a line of fences 
 behind which the savages were concealed. This, too, was in 
 the main successful. 
 
 In the lull that ensued after these two advantages, Dalzell 
 at once ordered the retreat to recommence. The column had 
 not moved twenty feet when the Indians came running from 
 every direction with wild yells, and fell upon their rear and 
 flank. Dalzell was shot and killed. The loss of their leader 
 threatened the battered and unnerved command with total 
 destruction. 
 
 In the crisis Major Rogers and his Rangers took possession 
 of another house which commanded the road. Some of the 
 terrified regulars followed him, in frantic eagerness to gain 
 shelter from the tempest of destruction without. The building 
 was large and strong. The Canadian women and children of 
 the neighborhood had already fled to it for refuge. They were 
 crowded into the cellar. 
 
 As the Rangers entered the building, its owner, an old man 
 named Campan, resolutely planted himself on the trap-door 
 leading to the cellar, and thrust back every soldier who sought 
 to lift it. No time was to be lost. Rogers's stentorian voice 
 shouted to the men to barricade the windows. In a moment 
 the yells of two hundred Indians, surrounding the house, mingled 
 with the shrieks and cries of the half-stifled women and children 
 in the cellar. With skilled hands, the Rangers piled the windows 
 full of furs, bedding, clothes, whatever would serve to shelter 
 them from the bullets of the savages, which now rattled against 
 the building like the roar of a hailstorm. 
 
 While Rogers and his men boldly risked their lives to cover 
 the retreat of the others, Captain Grant hurried forward for 
 another half mile, and posted a squad of men in a strong situa 
 tion, from which base of operations he sent forward other de 
 tachments, as they came up, to occupy other points along the 
 road within supporting distance of each other, until by these 
 
276 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 tactics he had a complete line of communication with the fort. 
 Each squad in turn, commencing with the farthest, then guard 
 edly retreated to the fort, till all were in. 
 
 The gallant Rogers and his handful of Rangers, who had by 
 their courage saved the command from complete destruction, 
 were yet defending themselves in Campan's house against a vast 
 multitude of savages, who had concentrated their force upon 
 this isolated band of heroes. To relieve these brave fellows 
 from their imminent peril, Grant ordered the bateaux to ascend 
 the river to a point opposite the house. The swivel-guns were 
 brought to bear, and in a short time the assailants were driven 
 to the rear of the house. Rogers and his men seized the op 
 portunity to rush out, just as the savages burst in at the rear 
 door. Under cover of the cannonade, the Rangers made their 
 way to the fort. At eight o'clock in the morning, after six 
 hours of fighting, the last man entered the sheltering palisade. 
 The fight at Bloody Run, as the creek was known from that 
 time, had cost the English a loss of fifty-nine men. 
 
 The news of the Indian victory spread far and wide through 
 the north, and bands of painted warriors arrived daily to re-en 
 force the besiegers. The siege resumed its old monotony, which 
 was at last disturbed by a thrilling attack on the schooner 
 Gladwyn. This vessel, the smaller of the two, was returning 
 from a trip to Niagara. She had on board ten sailors and six 
 Iroquois, who were supposed to support the cause of the English. 
 One morning these wily children of the forest asked to be put 
 ashore. In a moment of folly the request was complied with. 
 That they repaired at once to Pontiac with reports of the 
 weakness of the crew, there can be no doubt. 
 
 That night the schooner attempted the narrow river channel 
 below the fort, but was caught midway in a dead calm. The 
 pitchy darkness concealed from the eyes of the anxious look 
 outs a fleet of canoes, with three hundred and fifty Indians, 
 which floated unobserved to within a few yards of the schooner. 
 One cannon-shot was fired, but before its echoes had ceased the 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 277 
 
 savages swarmed over the sides of the vessel by scores. A 
 fearful hand to hand conflict ensued. 
 
 But resistance was useless. Ten or fifteen savages sur 
 rounded each sailor. Just as all was about over the mate 
 shouted, " Boys, fire the magazine, and blow her up ! " A mo 
 ment more and the vessel would have been a dismantled wreck. 
 But some Wyandots understood the words. With a wild cry 
 of alarm the Indians leaped from the vessel into the water, 
 swimming away at the top of their speed. The deck was 
 cleared instantaneously. The astonished crew found not an In 
 dian on board, where a minute before they had been by scores. 
 The savages ventured no more near the vessel. The next morn 
 ing a stiff breeze filled the languid sails, and the plucky little 
 schooner made her way safely to the fort. 
 
 We can not follow the detailed story of the siege further, 
 but turn to view other fields which the ambition of Pontiac 
 desolated with the horrors of war. When the weak line of 
 frontier forts was overwhelmed, the news of the successive dis 
 asters was carried, not alone to the starving garrison of Detroit, 
 and the great chieftain who sat watching it like an Evil Grenius, 
 but the same tidings spread like wild-fire along the defenseless 
 frontiers, and among the wild Indians of the west, who yet 
 hesitated to take up the hatchet. Venango, Sandusky, Le Boeuf, 
 St. Joseph, Miami, Ouatanon, Michillimackinac, Presqu' Isle, 
 these were the fated names which flashed over the frontiers, 
 carrying dread and terror to every cabin. 
 
 It is to be remembered that the defenseless frontiers of Vir 
 ginia and Pennsylvania bore the recent scars of the fearful 
 desolation of the French and Indian War, which ensued after 
 Braddock's defeat. Their sufferings were recent. The memory 
 of the mighty panic which desolated vast stretches of settled 
 country, and of the awful fate of hundreds and thousands of 
 settlers, who, with dogged courage, faced the savage hordes, 
 was fresh and vivid. 
 
 The imaginations of the terror-stricken pioneers dilated with 
 
278 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 horror as the black-winged rumors flew from cabin to cabin, 
 and from settlement to settlement. Nor were these apprehen 
 sions untimely. The very worst came to pass. The most exag 
 gerated fears were those which most nearly foretold the truth. 
 The war-parties of savages, with reddened tomahawk and 
 flaming torch, followed swiftly after the tidings of the fall of 
 the forts. 
 
 It was the French and Indian war over again. This state 
 ment must be received with some qualifications. It was more 
 extended. It was bloodier. It was more sudden. It was more 
 fearful in its details. In these respects the war of Pontiac was 
 worse than that of the French and Indians. From the tall 
 Creeks, who dwelt among the palms and magnolias of the sunny 
 south, to the wiry! savages who shivered around frosty Halifax, 
 the war-cry resounded through the unending forests, and the 
 tomahawk was uplifted by cruel hands. 
 
 The details of the fearful conflict may not be followed in 
 this place. Only a few of the most striking incidents can be 
 mentioned. In three months more than two thousand families 
 were driven from their homes in Pennsylvania and Virginia to 
 the settlements and cities of the east, and more than a thou 
 sand persons were massacred or taken captive. As in the 
 former war, vast sweeps of settled country were absolutely 
 abandoned by the flying inhabitants. As before, the multitudes 
 of unhappy refugees were crowded together in the towns to 
 which they had hurried, seeking shelter in barns, hovels, -and 
 temporary huts of bark, where they were confronted by all the 
 horrors of penury and famine. As before, the Quaker govern 
 ment sat with folded hands, extending to the bleeding frontiers 
 no comfort but counsels to non-resistance, and no aid but pious 
 maxims. From every valley of the Alleghanies rose black 
 columns of smoke from burning cabins and blazing hay-stacks. 
 
 The commander-in-chief of the British army was reluctantly 
 forced to believe in a wide-spread Indian insurrection. From 
 the meager resources at his command, two relief expeditions 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 279 
 
 were organized for the two posts, which were thought to be in 
 imminent peril. The story of the one designed for Detroit, 
 under the brave but incautious Dalzell, we have already traced. 
 The other expedition, under Henry Bouquet, consisting of five 
 hundred emaciated and feeble regulars from the West Indias, 
 was designed for Fort Pitt. 
 
 Day after day the weak, little band pressed on their errand 
 <of succor. Now they passed the charred ruins of desolated set 
 tlements in some lovely valley; now they came to some lonely 
 little block-house, from which a swarm of beleaguering Indians 
 fled at their first approach; now suffering from the heat of the 
 July sun, they toiled, panting up the long slopes of the Alle- 
 ghanies ; now from the crest of some range they looked out over 
 the landscape, with its purple mountain ranges, its shimmering 
 rivers, and its deep valleys, embowered in all the luxuriance of 
 midsummer foliage. 
 
 The fate of Braddock's army, of more than ten times the 
 strength of this little command of regulars, already wasted by 
 disease contracted in the burning atmosphere of the Indias, and 
 wholly unused to Indian warfare, hung constantly before the 
 eyes of the men. Every possible precaution against ambuscade 
 was taken. They were within twenty-five miles of Fort Pitt, 
 descending a hill through a dense forest, when a volley of shots 
 at the head of the column announced to every startled soldier 
 that they were attacked. A command to charge was given, and 
 company after company dashed down the hill. Before the 
 impetupus onset the Indians fled. 
 
 Just at the moment of victory, a heavy fire in the flank and 
 rear announced that the enemy were by no means all in the 
 front, and that the provision wagons, carrying the precious 
 stores for Fort Pitt, as well as the supplies for the troops, had 
 been attacked. No time was to be lost. The men turned and 
 hurried back up the hill to the relief of the convoy. A circle 
 was formed about the wagons right on the hill-side. It was 
 none too soon, for the Indians at once flung themselves on this 
 
280 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 protecting ring of soldiers. The forest rang with the war- 
 whoops of the savages. Every tree and log served as a shelter 
 from which they peppered the British regulars, who were wholly 
 unused to bush fighting. The fight was kept up for seven hours, 
 until night hid the combatants from each other. 
 
 The English were forced to encamp on the hill where they 
 were. To attempt a remove was certain destruction. Yet not 
 a drop of water could be had in their camp. After seven hours 
 of fighting in a scorching midsummer sun, the men were almost 
 insane with thirst. The gloom of the night could hardly darken 
 the prospect which confronted the command. Sixty of their 
 number had been killed and wounded. The latter were placed 
 behind a low barricade of sacks of flour from the wagons. 
 Fever lent its flames to intensify the fearful sufferings from 
 thirst. 
 
 Bouquet, cool, competent commander, saw so little hope for 
 the morrow, that he wrote a concise report of the engagement 
 to his commander-in-chief, that the latter might be informed 
 concerning it, " whatever our fate may be." The dream-haunted 
 slumbers of the restless men were broken as the first gray light 
 came stealing through the damp forest. It was the struggle of 
 the previous day renewed. Yet some changes could be noticed. 
 The Indians, confident of victory, dashed more openly and 
 boldly upon the lines. The soldiers, on the other hand, fought 
 with less hope, and some demoralization from their sufferings. 
 
 At ten o'clock in the morning there was no further altera 
 tion in the situation. Bouquet saw that it was only a question 
 of time until his men were overpowered, unless a change came 
 soon. The savages pressed harder and harder upon the dis 
 tressed soldiery. The horses picketed in the circle near the 
 barricade for the wounded, received many shots, and maddened 
 with pain, added to the uproar of battle their own wild and 
 unearthly cries, or sometimes breaking loose they would bound 
 through the lines of friends and foes, and run up and down the 
 mountains screaming with agony. 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 281 
 
 One thing was true. If the Indians could be collected into 
 a body and stand long enough to fight it out, Bouquet might 
 yet achieve a victory. He resolved on a desperate stratagem. 
 Two companies, forming a part of the line hotly pressed, were 
 ordered to fall back quickly, while the troops on either side 
 were to rapidly cover the gap by a thin extension of their own 
 lines, as if to cover the retreat. 
 
 The maneuver was executed successfully. The savages, as 
 Bouquet had foreseen, mistook the movement for retreat. They 
 sprang forward at the gap from all directions, and throwing 
 themselves on the slender line, were on the point of breaking 
 into the very heart of the camp, when the aspect of affairs 
 underwent a sudden change. The two companies which had 
 withdrawn made a quick flank movement, hidden by the forest, 
 and just as the Indians were on the point of victory, discharged 
 a fearful volley into their flank at point-blank range. 
 
 The astonished savages turned at bay, and fought like tigers 
 to extricate themselves from the trap. Before they could do 
 so, and break out of the circle which they had fought so long 
 to break into, two other companies were precipitated upon the 
 Indians. At this new onslaught they broke and fled, pursued 
 by the English and overwhelmingly routed. The exhausted 
 troops collected their wounded, and, by the following evening, 
 reached Fort Pitt. 
 
 This place had been in peril, but on the report of the defeat 
 of their warriors at Bushy Run, near which the battle had been 
 fought, the besiegers fled. The defenders of the fort had taken 
 every precaution possible. They had cleared the land around 
 it so that the savages might have no shelter. They had raised 
 the palisade, strengthened the barracks, and even constructed a 
 rude fire-engine to be used in case the savages succeeded in 
 firing the buildings. 
 
 On the other hand, the Indians had displayed equal ingenu 
 ity. Under cover of night, they had crawled up the open river 
 banks, under the ramparts, and by incredible industry had dug 
 
282 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 out innumerable rifle-pits with their knives. Each one of these 
 burrows held one or two warriors, whose deadly aim was cer 
 tain to bring down every exposed soldier. The peril of the 
 fort, thus closely invested, arose from famine. The arrival of 
 Bouquet, however, happily averted it. 
 
 Bouquet's victory caused only a temporary lull in the deso 
 lation of the frontiers in its immediate neighborhood. The his 
 tory of the time is full of fearful incidents. A party of twenty- 
 four soldiers, in charge of a train of provision wagons, was 
 ambuscaded three miles below Niagara Falls, where the narrow 
 road ran close to the brink of the gloomy precipices and black 
 abysses of Devil's Hole. Such as were not killed on the spot 
 were thrown over the -cliff, and were shattered beyond recogni 
 tion far below upon the rocks. A relief party started out from 
 Fort Niagara on hearing the sound of rifles, but fell into an 
 ambuscade not less terrible than the first, leaving over fifty of 
 their number slain. 
 
 In the war on the Pennsylvania border one incident stands 
 out unmatched in its cruelty. In the center of a lonely forest 
 stood a small school-house. This building was attacked by 
 Indians just as the master was about to begin the daily round 
 of study with prayer. He was killed with the open Bible in 
 his hand, and an agonized plea for the safety of his scholars on 
 his lips. At nightfall, when the little fellows who attended the 
 school failed to return home, anxious searchers made their way 
 to the school-house, where they fourid the lifeless remains of 
 the teacher, surrounded by the corpses of his nine scholars. 
 
 Before the winter closed in, another attempt was made to 
 relieve Detroit. Major Wilkins, with a force of six hundred 
 regulars, collected with painful effort from the colonies, started 
 up the Niagara River. Before proceeding far they were attacked 
 by Indians and driven back in confusion to Fort Schlosser. 
 
 A second time the ill-fated expedition set out, and succeeded 
 in reaching Lake Erie. The inland lake of azure, as deceitful 
 as a coquette, had been almost traversed. The broad mouth of 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 283 
 
 the Detroit River was already in sight. The tired garrison were 
 just on the point of being relieved. But the sailors in the flo 
 tilla shook their heads with misgiving, and talked in low voices, 
 as they saw rising in the north-western sky the dark battalions 
 of the Storm King. With inconceivable rapidity, the little line 
 of blue vapor which hung lazily on the horizon expanded and 
 dilated until the blue canopy was obscured with dark and thun 
 derous clouds. The ragged rain line advanced swiftly. A heavy 
 gale of wind arose. The helpless bateaux were rocked more 
 and more uneasily on the rising waves. 
 
 The surface of the lake grew black as ink, and was flecked 
 with angry white-caps. The bright day was succeeded by the 
 greenish darkness of the tempest. Every muscle was strained 
 by the crew of each canoe to make the shore. It had been 
 four miles away when the first signs of the approaching storm 
 were detected. For fifteen minutes they had been headed for 
 land. Yet it was still two miles and a half away. 
 
 The gale rose higher and higher. Now a rolling wave lifted 
 the prow of a canoe five feet in the air, now plunged it as far 
 below the surface of the lake, and broke athwart the bow, del 
 uging the rowers with spray and water. Red lightnings shot 
 zigzag across the angry sky, and terrific peals of thunder 
 exploded like the trumps of doom. As the tempest grew 
 heavier and wrought the mobile lake into more perfect reflec 
 tion of its own fury and violence, the bateaux heaviest latfen 
 began to fill and sink. Some of the crew would be taken on 
 board other boats ; others, with white faces upturned, and pierc 
 ing screams for help, sank out of sight forever in the raging 
 depths. Great drops of water began to fall. The oarsmen 
 pulled with swollen arteries and knotted sinews. 
 
 At last, as the flood-gates of the sky were opened, the flotilla 
 attempted to land. The frail vessels were caught in the arms 
 of giant breakers and flung again and again with remorseless 
 violence against the beach. The men jumped overboard, and 
 abandoning provisions, weapons, and ammunition to the greedy 
 
284 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 waves, fought their way through the seething surf to the land so 
 many had failed to reach. The equipment of the expedition was 
 utterly lost. To proceed to Detroit was only to treble the num 
 ber behind the palisade which must be fed, without replenishing 
 the scanty supply of provision. With misery and hardship the 
 men struggled back to Niagara. Detroit was still left alone. 
 
 Before the news of this disaster reached the garrison, infor 
 mation of a very different kind had filled the spirit of the 
 mighty Pontiac with bitterness and rage. While Pontiac had 
 been maturing the far-reaching plans of his ambitious conspiracy 
 in the winter of 17621763, to overthrow the English, re-estab 
 lish France in the military dominion of the west, and seat the 
 Indians, the aboriginal lords, upon the throne of the balance of 
 power between the two European nations, these latter had been 
 maturing a counter movement, culminating on the 10th of 
 February, 1763, in the treaty of Paris, by which France 
 resigned all claim to the territory east of the Mississippi. 
 
 The news of this treaty reached Pontiac when the siege of 
 Detroit was but a month old. But with iron-headed skepti 
 cism the dark-browed king of the forest refused to believe it, 
 and threatened death to every person who ventured to bring 
 such news. As the summer rolled away, with Detroit still 
 unsubdued, and the expected war canoes of the French king, 
 which he had promised his followers months before were 
 alre.ady on their way to strike the English, were yet as far off as 
 ever, Pontiac stamped his foot with rage, and dispatched a 
 fierce, haughty demand for weapons, provisions, and re-enforce 
 ments to the French commandant of Fort Chartres, in the Illi 
 nois country. 
 
 The reply to this demand reached the haughty Pontiac 
 about the time of the Lake Erie disaster. It was to the effect 
 that the French king had made peace and resigned all claim to 
 her territory in America; that instead of expecting help for 
 war, Pontiac should himself lay down the hatchet. 
 
 On receipt of this message, of which the authenticity could 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 285 
 
 not be doubted, Pontiac's fierce spirit was wrought into unspeak 
 able fury. For hours no man or woman dared go near him, so 
 terrible was his rage. He sat raving and cursing, like an 
 46 archangel fallen." There are fiercer storms than those of wind 
 and wave. This was one. It was a tempest in a brain. At last 
 he rose, and with imperious gesture ordered the frightened 
 squaws to take down the wigwams. That night the dark con 
 spirator withdrew to the tribes along the Maumee River. The 
 siege of Detroit, however, though practically suspended during 
 the winter, was renewed the following spring, but with less 
 pertinacity and zeal. The eye of the master was no longer there 
 to oversee it. 
 
 Though Detroit still baffled the fierce tribes of the north, 
 the defenseless borders of Pennsylvania and Virginia ceased not 
 to be desolated with fire and blood. Farther and farther to the 
 east the savages pushed their depredations. Nearer and nearer 
 to the quick of the nation did the assassin's knife cut its way. 
 To these things the Quaker Assembly of Philadelphia refused 
 to make any resistance. With placid obstinacy and undisturbed 
 countenances, they heard the horrible tales of border massacre 
 and bloodshed, and then declared that resistance would be sin 
 ful ! The poor frontier people flooded the assembly with 
 memorials, pleas, petitions, prayers, and supplications, imploring, 
 begging, demanding protection. To these things the good 
 Quakers turned an ear of stone. 
 
 So the frontiersmen, as is always the case where the govern 
 ment fails to discharge its duty and enforce the law, took the 
 law and its execution into their own hands. Bands of maddened 
 and desperate men organized for protection and revenge. As the 
 report of their telling blows against the savages reached Phila 
 delphia, the Quakers raised a fearful clamor of denunciation. 
 As the majority of the frontiersmen were Presbyterians, the gall 
 of sectarianism was added to the wormwood of political strife 
 over the issue of resistance or non-resistance which ? 
 
 The bold borderers fought well, shouting their notes of defi- 
 
286 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ance to the citizens of the Quaker capital. Among them, our 
 old friend James Smith, whose fortunes in captivity we traced 
 in a former chapter, was one of the most notorious and success 
 ful leaders. Of course this irregular warfare, a sort of unli 
 censed murdering, led to excesses. One of these has become 
 historic. It illustrates ths stormy time. 
 
 Near the broad and mirror-like Susquehanna, and at no great 
 distance from the town of Lancaster, at a spot known as the 
 Manor of Conestoga, lived a small band of Indians. The set 
 tlement was old, and in former years had been prosperous, 
 but at the time of which we write had dwindled, till nothing 
 remained of it but a cluster of squalid hovels, inhabited by 
 twenty wretched Indians, regarded in the neighborhood simply 
 as lazy, but harmless vagabonds. On the east bank of the Sus- 
 quehanna, and some distance farther up, stood the town of Pax- 
 ton. It had been burnt by the Indians in the French war. Of 
 this burning and the massacre which followed, the inhabitants 
 carried in their hearts the memory. For the Indians they had 
 no mercy, but only black hate and an undying thirst for 
 revenge. For some time, as the horrors of Indian warfare again 
 swept along the frontiers, they had watched the poor vagabonds 
 of Conestoga with an eye of fierce suspicion. The verdict of 
 history is that one or two of the Conestoga Indians were guilty ; 
 the rest innocent. 
 
 One night word was brought to Paxton that an Indian, 
 known to have committed depredations, had been tracked to 
 Conestoga. The Paxton blood was fired. Fifty men, athirst 
 for blood, mounted on horses, proceeded to the Indian settle 
 ment and surrounded it just before daybreak. As they drew 
 near to the hovels, an Indian overheard them and looked out. 
 One of the men thought or pretended that he recognized him. 
 " Curse him ! he is the one that killed my mother," he shouted, 
 and firing at the instant, the poor wretch fell dead. With wild 
 shouts, the ruffians burst into the cabins, and shot, stabbed, and 
 butchered the inmates. As it happened, there were only six 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 287 
 
 Indians in the settlement, the rest, vagabonds that they were, 
 being scattered over the surrounding country. After firing the 
 cabins, the fierce Paxtonians rode rapidly away, freely scattering 
 the news. 
 
 In an hour or two the sheriff of Lancaster arrived on the 
 ground. He at once proceeded to collect the fourteen other 
 Indians who had escaped the massacre by being absent, and 
 lodged them in the Lancaster jail for safety. On receipt of the 
 news at Philadelphia, the government at once offered a reward 
 for the apprehension of the murderers. This measure inflamed 
 the Paxton men beyond all control. On December 27, 1763, 
 they started to Lancaster, against the protests of the cooler- 
 headed people of the community, with the purpose, more or less 
 understood among them, of breaking into the jail and killing 
 the Indians who had escaped the first massacre. 
 
 About three o'clock in the afternoon the rioters, all heavily 
 armed, galloped into the little town and up to the jail, quickly 
 burst in the door, and made their way to the Indians. The 
 latter gathered billets of wood for self-defense. At sight of 
 resistance the rioters fired into the crowd. " In a moment 
 more," "says Parkman, " the yard was filled with the ruffians, 
 cursing and firing upon the cowering wretches, holding the 
 muzzles of their pieces, in some instances, so near their victims' 
 heads that the brains were scattered by the explosion. The 
 work was ^oon finished. The bodies of men, women, and chil 
 dren, mangled with outrageous brutality, lay scattered about 
 the yard, and the rioters were gone." 
 
 The whole country was thrown into an uproar by this event. 
 On the one hand, the government was offering rewards for the 
 apprehension of the murderers ; on the other hand, the hardy 
 frontiersmen threatened to destroy a government which left 
 them to their fate, and branded them as murderers if they but 
 defended themselves. The sectarian quarrel, and political dis 
 putes concerning inadequate representation, and taxation without 
 protection, filled the country with agitation and clamor. 
 
 16 
 
288 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 To Philadelphia there had been removed, a few weeks before 
 the Lancaster affair, a community of Moravian Indians from 
 Bethlehem, in order to save them from the fate which after 
 wards befell the Conestogas. All along the line of march the 
 refugees had been insulted, and a howling mob assaulted them 
 in the streets of Philadelphia. They were protected by the 
 Quakers, and afforded shelter and food. This thing was remem 
 bered as the agitation over the Paxton matter grew greater and 
 greater. Far and wide through the frontier borders, the notion 
 sprang up of proceeding to Philadelphia, destroying these poor 
 savages, and overturning the government. 
 
 Towards the close of January, a force of from five hun 
 dred to fifteen hundred desperate borderers started on this 
 mission to Philadelphia. They expected co-operation from the 
 city mob. Rumor had anticipated their movement by several 
 days, and thrown the city of Philadelphia into a panic 
 of fear. 
 
 The first resolution was to send the Indians away to New 
 York. The execution of the timid plan was hastily begun. 
 Before daybreak, one bitter cold January morning, the half-clad 
 Indians filed mournfully through the streets of the City of 
 Brotherly Love. The report of their removal had filled the 
 streets with a howling mob, even at that hour. Under the pro 
 tection of soldiers little less hostile than the mob itself, the 
 unfortunate and shivering Indians commenced their march on 
 foot to New York. 
 
 Greeted everywhere by the curses of the people, the sad 
 children of the forest proceeded as far as Amboy, where they 
 were notified by the governor of New York that they would not 
 be allowed to enter that province, and that an attempt to do so 
 would be resisted by force. For some days the poor Indian 
 converts remained in the barracks at Amboy, engaged almost 
 constantly in singing and praying. But there seemed to be no 
 resting-place for them in the land of their fathers. The gov 
 ernor of New Jersey sent a message requiring them to leave 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAG. 291 
 
 that province forthwith. Beaten from pillar to post, the 
 unhappy Indians again turned their faces to Philadelphia. 
 
 The return of the Indians, together with the news of the 
 approach of the Paxton men, again convulsed the city with appre 
 hension, discord, and fright. A large element in the city openly 
 declared that they would espouse the cause of the borderers if 
 it came to an armed conflict. The rest of the inhabitants took 
 active measures for defense. The Quakers said no more about 
 non-resistance. Barricades were thrown up in the streets, cannon 
 were mounted, patrol guards posted, and a citizen soldiery 
 hastily organized. 
 
 At two o'clock one morning the wild clangor of the alarm 
 bells sent a shudder to every heart. By previous arrangement, 
 every window was filled with candles. A vast multitude of 
 armed citizens surged up and down the streets of the city. 
 The alarm proved groundless. The rioters, learning the recep 
 tion prepared for them, advanced no nearer than Germantown. 
 Here they were visited in camp by many citizens. 
 
 A compromise treaty was drawn up. The Paxton men con 
 tented themselves with presenting elaborate memorials to the 
 assembly, which were never acted on. They withdrew to their 
 homes without having accomplished any thing further than to 
 demonstrate the weakness of the provincial government, and the 
 folly of all doctrines of non-resistance. As for the city, as soon 
 as the external danger was removed, the rival factions engaged 
 in a war of pamphlets and newspapers, which at the time was 
 one of the most serious, but now appears . as one of the most 
 laughable, disputes in American history. 
 
 With this outline of tne border wars of the time we must 
 be content. The year 1764 witnessed serious military efforts 
 commensurate with the undertaking to crush the Indian power. 
 Bradstreet in August of this year effected the relief of Detroit. 
 The weary garrison, after a siege of fifteen months, during which 
 they had been cut off from communication with the rest of their 
 race, had been pent up in rigorous and wearisome confinement, 
 
292 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 had contended with a sleepless and powerful foe, had subsisted 
 on scanty and wretched food, and had worn their clothes thread 
 bare, were at last relieved, and permitted to step outside the 
 worn and hard beaten inclosure of the palisade, and return, to 
 a world from which they had been so long banished. 
 
 In the south, Bouquet, at the head of a strong army, pushed 
 westward from Fort Pitt, compelled the Indian tribes every 
 where to submit, make treaties of peace and surrender their 
 captives. 
 
 On a certain day the Indians from far and near brought their 
 captives, taken during many years of warfare, to an appointed 
 rendezvous for their surrender. Thither also repaired anxious 
 throngs of settlers, whose relatives and friends had long been 
 missing. The scene was tragical. The long lost were restored. 
 Friend recognized friend ; mothers clasped their children to 
 their eager breasts. There was great joy. There was ateo great 
 grief. Many persons failed to find the faces of the loved ones 
 sought. Some of the captives had their hopes crushed, their 
 hearts broken by failing to meet a single familiar face. 
 
 As his gigantic conspiracy crumbled into ruins, Pontiac, furi 
 ous as a lion at bay, unconquered, because in spirit unconquer 
 able, placed himself in person among the Indians of what are 
 now the States of Indiana and Illinois, rousing them by his indi 
 vidual influence into a state of frenzy and warlike wrath. To 
 defend this region, over which still waved the flag of France, 
 into which no English foot had dared to penetrate, he resolved 
 to devote all of his great and desperate energies. French traders, 
 hostile to the advance of the English which would destroy their 
 occupation, practiced on his ignorance and favorite belief. By 
 means of forged letters, purporting to be written by the king 
 of France, they again inspired in him that belief which was the 
 corner-stone of his conspiracy, namely, that France would lend 
 him her powerful aid and re-enforcement. 
 
 Bent on this idea, Pontiac presented himself to the French 
 commander at St. Louis, and demanded arms and ammunition. 
 
THE RETURN OF THE CAPTIVES 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 295 
 
 The Frenchman tried to soften his refusal by presents of a less 
 warlike character. But Pontiac had one absorbing, overmaster 
 ing ambition. Whatever ministered to that ambition he desired 
 and demanded. Whatever did not minister to it he flung aside 
 as unworthy his attention. So he refused the presents with 
 angry scorn and bitter words. 
 
 Still the resources of this Napoleon of the forest were not 
 exhausted. He dispatched an embassy all the way to New 
 Orleans to demand help from the French Government. These 
 ambassadors also carried war-belts to the distant warriors of 
 Louisiana, to whom the name and fame of the mighty Pontiac 
 were as the sun at noon. These tribes were urged at every 
 cost to prevent the English from ascending the Mississippi, 
 which Pontiac's military genius foresaw they would attempt. 
 In this he was right, and their attempts to ascend the river 
 were completely foiled. 
 
 The principal mission of the ambassadors was, however, 
 a complete failure. The French rule was just about to give 
 way to that of Spain, to whom France had by the treaty of 
 Paris resigned Louisiana. The governor interviewed them and 
 explained the true situation. From France no help was to be 
 expected. 
 
 To this announcement the Indian orator made a reply full of 
 the most cutting sarcasm. " Since we last sat on these seats, 
 our ears have heard strange words. When the English told us 
 they had conquered you, we always thought they lied ; but now 
 we have learned that they spoke the truth. We have learned 
 that you, whom we have loved and served so well, have given 
 the lands that we dwell upon to your enemies and ours. We 
 have learned that the English have forbidden you to send traders 
 to our villages to supply our wants, and that you, whom we 
 thought so great and brave, have obeyed their commands like 
 women, leaving us to starve and die in misery. We now tell 
 you once for all that our lands are our own; and we tell you, 
 moreover, that we can live without your aid, and hunt, and fish, 
 
296 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 and fight as our fathers did before us. All that we ask of you y 
 is this, that you give us back the guns, the powder, the hatchets, 
 and the knives which we have worn out in fighting your battles. 
 As for you," hissed the orator, shaking his long forefinger at 
 some English officers who were present, "as for you, our hearts 
 burn with rage, when we think of the ruin you have brought 
 
 on us." 
 
 When the report of this embassy reached Pontiac, he saw 
 that all was lost. The foundation of all his ambitious schemes 
 was French interference. He had rested on a delusion. He 
 had believed in a lie. His solitary will, which had controlled 
 and combined into co-operation a thousand restless tribes, had 
 breathed life into a conspiracy continental in its proportions, and 
 had exploded a mine ramifying to forts, isolated by hundreds of 
 miles of unbroken wilderness, could no longer uphold the crum 
 bling fabric. His stormy spirit had warred with destiny, and 
 had been conquered. 
 
 For the proud Pontiac there remained but two alternatives, 
 destruction or submission. With a hell of hate in his heart, he 
 chose the latter. Near the site of Lafayette, Indiana, he met 
 an English officer and formally tendered the traditional calumet 
 of peace. He proceeded to Detroit with his diminished retinue, 
 and, in the old council-hall, where he and his blanketed chiefs 
 had attempted to destroy the garrison, the terms of the peace 
 were arranged. The following spring he visited Sir William 
 Johnson, at his castle in the Mohawk valley, and finally con 
 cluded the peace, renouncing forever the bold ambition by which 
 he expected to avert or retard the ruin of his race. 
 
 From this time he disappears from the historic page, only 
 to reappear in the last scene in the eventful drama of his life. 
 Of his movements during the intervening years no record exists. 
 He is known to have planted his lodge, and to have hunted and 
 fished like a common warrior, through the region which now 
 forms the great States of Indiana and Illinois. 
 
 In April, 1769, he appeared at St. Louis, and made a two 
 
THE AMBITION OF PONTIAC. 297 
 
 days' visit on his old friend, St. Ange, who was still command 
 ant, though by that time his command was in the interest of 
 Spain. On the second day, word came that the Indians of an 
 Illinois town, across the river, were having a dance and carousal, 
 and Pontiac announced his intention of going over. He drank 
 deeply, and, marching down the street into the forest, sang the 
 medicine song. 
 
 An English trader named Williamson, apprehensive of the 
 proximity of such a mighty chieftain and conspirator as Pontiac, 
 and especially suspicious on account of his visit to the French 
 at St. Louis, resolved to dispatch him while he was in his power. 
 A drunken Illinois Indian was bribed with liquor to watch Pon 
 tiac as he left the place, and stealing after him through the 
 forest, to kill him. The assassin carried out the plan, and buried 
 a tomahawk in the mighty brain in which all ambitions were 
 dead forever. 
 
 Parkman, the great chieftain's biographer, thus closes his 
 work : " The dead body was soon discovered, and startled cries 
 and wild howlings announced the event. The word was caught 
 up from mouth to mouth, and the place resounded with infernal 
 yells. The warriors snatched their weapons. The Illinois took 
 part with their guilty countryman, and the few followers of 
 Pontiac, driven from the village, fled to spread the tidings and 
 call the nations to revenge. Meanwhile, the murdered chief lay 
 in the spot where he had fallen, until St. Ange, mindful of 
 former friendship, sent to claim the body, and buried it with 
 warlike honors near his fort of St. Louis. 
 
 " Thus basely perished this champion of a ruined race. But 
 could his shade have revisited the scene of murder, his savage 
 spirit would have exulted in the vengeance which overwhelmed 
 the abettors of the crime. Whole tribes were rooted out to ex 
 piate it. Chiefs and sachems whose veins had thrilled with his 
 eloquence, young warriors whose aspiring hearts had caught the 
 inspiration of his greatness, mustered to revenge his fate ; and, 
 from the north and east, their united bands descended on the 
 
298 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 villages of the Illinois. Tradition has but faintly preserved the 
 memory of the event ; and its only annalists, men who held the 
 intestine feuds of the savage tribes in no more account than 
 the quarrels of panthers or wildcats, have left but a meagre 
 record. Yet enough remains to tell us that over the grave of 
 Pontiac more blood was poured out in atonement than flowed 
 from the hecatombs of slaughtered heroes on the corpse of 
 Patroclus ; and the remnant of the Illinois who survived the 
 carnage remained forever after sunk into utter insignificance. 
 
 " Neither mound nor tablet marked the burial-place of Pon 
 tiac. For a mausoleum, a city has risen above the forest hero ; 
 and the race whom he hated with such burning rancor trample 
 with unceasing footsteps over his forgotten grave." 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 299 
 
 CHAPTEH VIII 
 
 JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 
 
 |HE traveler along the New York Central railroad 
 may have pointed out to him, near the town of 
 Amsterdam, a heavy stone mansion, half hidden 
 from view by a grove of locust trees. The 
 building is "Johnson Castle," a name which its 
 owner gave it one hundred and forty years ago. 
 Its walls are thick and massive, its windows 
 small and deep-set. Though extremely odd in 
 its architecture, its size and durability still give it just rank as 
 a fine residence. A century and a half sit lightly on its shoul 
 ders, and, barring accidents, it will survive two or three times 
 that period. A few miles away, in the edge of Johnstown, the 
 curious visitor will find " Johnson Hall." It is twenty years 
 younger than the castle. 
 
 A visitor describes the place as follows : "Although both 
 house and grounds have been greatly altered and modernized, 
 we can even now judge well what they must have been origi 
 nally. The hall is a two-storied double mansion, built of wood, 
 in the most substantial, conscientious manner, with raised panels 
 on the outside in imitation of stone. It was, without doubt, in 
 its day the most spacious and elegant edifice in the colony out 
 side of New York City. The hall is fully fifteen feet wide, and 
 the ceilings over twelve feet high, surrounded with massive 
 wooden cornices of carved work. The sides of the rooms are 
 elegantly wainscoted with pine panels and heavy carved work. 
 A broad staircase, of easy ascent, leads from the lower to the 
 
300 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 upper hall, ornamented with massive mahogany balustrades, 
 which still, at every foot, bear the marks of the tomahawk's 
 hacking, said by tradition to have been notched there by Chief 
 Brant himself, when he fled the valley with Sir John Johnson, in 
 1776, "to protect the house from the torch of Indians, who 
 would understand and respect these signs." 
 
 " Of the garden and nursery, situated to the south of the 
 hall, and which in the olden times were the delight of their owner, 
 and the pride of the surrounding country, no vestige remains. 
 Some of the poplars, however, which he planted, still stand, 
 green and vigorous. The hall was formerly flanked by two 
 stone block-houses, with sundry loop-holes for musketry cut 
 directly under the eaves. But one of these now converted into 
 a servants' dwelling yet stands, the other having been burned 
 down many years ago. Of the stone wall which surrounded the 
 whole place as a protection against attack, but little now remains. 
 
 "A subterranean passage formerly led from the main build 
 ing to the block-house on the left, and thence another communi 
 cated with the block-house on the right flank. These passages, 
 however, as well as the port-holes in the remaining block-house, 
 have been filled up. Although the building never experienced 
 a siege, yet it was twice fortified ; once, as stated, by a strong 
 stone rampart in 1763, and again in 1776." 
 
 The builder and original proprietor of these singular and 
 romantic looking mansions was Sir William Johnson, Baronet. 
 He came to this country when a young man, without title or 
 fortune. Engaging in traffic with the Indians, Johnson, by dint 
 of great natural abilities, which were assisted rather than 
 retarded by a coarse nature, made money in large quantities. 
 In 1742 he bought from the Mohawk Indians a large tract of 
 the richest land in the world, lying in the very heart of the 
 far-famed Mohawk valley. To this he added by yearly pur 
 chases, until he became the wealthiest man, and, next to the 
 Penns, the largest landed proprietor in America. The " castle " 
 was his residence throughout the year, until he built the " hall," 
 
A GUEST AT JOHNSON HALL. 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHA WKS. 303 
 
 in 1763, which he occupied as a summer residence, using the 
 older mansion only in winter. 
 
 Four or five years after he built the castle, the wife of Colonel 
 Johnson, as he was then called, a plain, fair-haired German girl, of 
 humble lineage, died, leaving her husband one boy, John, and two 
 baby daughters. One day the widower attended a muster of 
 the county militia. As an officer came riding by on a prancing 
 steed, a bright-eyed, red-cheeked Indian girl of sixteen, a real 
 beauty, with her white teeth, long, flowing, black hair, and a 
 form of rare symmetry and grace, laughingly bantered him for 
 a ride. The officer told her she might jump on if she could. 
 Quick as flash the agile girl leaped on the horse behind the 
 gallant rider, and clinging to him, her hair and ribbons blowing 
 wildly in the breeze, rode round and round on the flying steed 
 before the applauding crowd. One man took more than ordinary 
 interest in the incident. It was the susceptible and lonely wid 
 ower. That night Mollie Brant, for such was the name of the 
 dusky beauty, went home with the baronet to Johnson Castle, 
 becoming thenceforth the mistress alike of it and its proprietor. 
 
 The two motherless daughters were assigned apartments 
 of their own, where they lived in complete seclusion under the 
 care of a devoted friend of their mother, an officer's widow. 
 Their time was occupied with needle-work or study. Their 
 library consisted of the Bible and prayer-book, a lot of the 
 ponderous romances, which mark the beginning of the English 
 novel, and Hollin's " Ancient History." A game of chess, a 
 walk in the park or a drive up the valley, constituted their only 
 amusements. At the age of sixteen they had never seen a lady 
 other than their governess. Occasionally some gentleman vis 
 itor found his way to Johnson Hall. This was a rare treat to 
 the lonely girls, to whom such a guest was always presented. 
 They married early, and their father built for them two elegant 
 stone residences a few miles from the castle. 
 
 Far different from this conventual life of the two sisters 
 was that led below stairs by the baronet. From the first, Sir 
 
304 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 William, as we will call him, though the title was not conferred 
 by the king until the French and Indian War, acquired great 
 influence over the warriors of the far-famed Six Nations. He 
 had located himself in the heart of the territory of the Mo 
 hawks, the most easterly of the Iroquois nations. Thoroughly 
 understanding the Indian character, he won their confidence 
 and attained an ascendancy in their councils which no other 
 white man ever approximated. The negotiations of the British 
 Government with the Iroquois were all carried on through him. 
 The castle was his store-house, where all the wonderful supplies 
 of guns, ammunition, and trinkets were kept for trade. Around 
 the castle were clusters of cabins for the accommodation of 
 Indians who came to trade. 
 
 Sir William kept a bounteous table, open to every comer, 
 and dispensed his hospitality in lord-like style. The Indians 
 would visit him day and night, sleeping in the halls, on the 
 steps, or in the cabins, as suited their fancy, and faring on 
 their host's sumptuous provision for days at a time. The nat 
 ural genius of the man for controlling the restless red men, 
 and bending their rigid natures to his will, was powerfully 
 supplemented by his rather questionable alliance with Mollie 
 Brant. She was immensely popular, possessed a shrewd intelli 
 gence, and herself acquired great influence over her people. 
 
 The baronet, moreover, by this connection, for it was not 
 a marriage, won the hearts of the warriors. His castle, to 
 which they were always delighted to come, was looked up to 
 as the splendid establishment of one of their own people. As 
 they exchanged their valuable furs for the wares of the baronet, 
 the heavy profit which went into his pocket was, they felt, well 
 earned by the free and easy manner with which he treated 
 them. In winter, the baronet often humored them by arraying 
 himself in Indian disguise war-paint, feathers, and tomahawk, 
 complete and living with them for weeks at a time as one of 
 their own braves. His word once given them, whether a threat 
 or a promise, was kept inviolate. 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 305 
 
 His vast landed estate was parceled out among Dutch and 
 Highland tenantry, who were as devoted to his interests as 
 the Indians themselves. "Nature had well fitted him," says a 
 writer, " for the position in which his propitious stars had cast 
 his lot. His person was tall, erect, and strong ; his features, 
 grave and manly. His direct and upright dealings, his courage, 
 eloquence, and address were sure passports to favor in Indian 
 eyes. 
 
 "He had a singular facility of adaptation. In the camp or 
 at the council-board, in spite of his defective education, he bore 
 himself as became his station ; but at home he was seen drink 
 ing flip and smoking tobacco with the Dutch boors, his neigh 
 bors, talking of improvements or the price of beaver-skins ; and * 
 in the Indian villages he would feast on dog's flesh, dance with 
 the warriors, and harangue his attentive auditors with all the 
 dignity of an Iroquois sachem. His temper was genial, he 
 encouraged rustic sports, and was respected and beloved alike 
 by whites and Indians. 
 
 "His good qualities, however, were alloyed with defects. 
 His mind was as coarse as it was vigorous ; he was vain of his 
 rank and influence, without any scruples of delicacy as to pro 
 claiming them. Eager and ambitious in pushing his own resist 
 less way, he trampled beneath his iron heel whomsoever might 
 cross his pathway." 
 
 Before proceeding to the story which forms the more imme 
 diate subject of this chapter, it may be well to speak more at 
 length than we have heretofore done of the far-famed Iroquois, 
 among whom Sir William Johnson lived, and over whom he 
 exerted such a commanding influence. Francis Parkman gives 
 the following eloquent summary of their tragic history : 
 
 "Foremost in war, foremost in eloquence, foremost in their 
 savage arts of policy, stood the fierce people called by them 
 selves the Hodenosaunee, and by the French the Iroquois, a 
 name which has since been applied to the entire family, of which 
 they formed the dominant member. They extended their con- 
 
306 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 quests and their depredations from Quebec to the Oarolinas, and 
 from the western prairies to the forests of Maine. On the 
 south, they forced tribute from the subjugated Dela wares, and 
 pierced the mountain fastnesses of the Cherokees with inces 
 sant forays. On the north, they uprooted the ancient settle 
 ments of the Wyandots. On the west, they exterminated the 
 Eries and the Andastes, and spread havoc and dismay among 
 the tribes of the Illinois ; and on the east, the Indians of New 
 England fled at the first peal of the Mohawk war-cry. 
 
 " Nor was it the Indian race alone who quailed before their 
 ferocious valor. All Canada shook with the desolating fury of 
 their onset; the people fled to the forts for refuge; the blood- 
 besmeared conquerors roamed like wolves among the burning 
 settlements, and the youthful colony trembled on the brink of 
 ruin. 
 
 " The Iroquois, in some measure, owed their triumphs to the 
 position of their country ; for they dwelt within the present 
 limits of the State of New York, whence several great rivers 
 and the inland oceans of the northern lakes opened ready thor 
 oughfares to their roving warriors through all the adjacent 
 wilderness. But the true fountain of their success is to be 
 sought in their own inherent energies, wrought to the most effect 
 ive action, under a political fabric well suited to the Indian 
 life ; in their mental and moral organization ; in their insatiable 
 ambition and restless ferocity. 
 
 " In their scheme of government, as in their social customs 
 and religious observances, the Iroquois displayed, in full sym 
 metry and matured strength, the same characteristics which in 
 other tribes are found distorted, withered, decayed to the root, 
 or, perhaps, faintly visible in an imperfect germ. They con 
 sisted of five tribes or nations, the Mohawks, the Oneidas, the 
 Onondagas, the Cayugas, and the Senecas, to whom a sixth, the 
 Tuscaroras, was afterwards added. 
 
 " To each of these tribes belonged an organization of its 
 own. Each had several sachems, who, with the subordinate 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 309 
 
 chiefs and principal men, regulated all its internal affairs ; but 
 when foreign powers were to be treated with, or matters involv 
 ing the whole confederacy required deliberation, all the sachems 
 of the several tribes convened in general assembly at the great 
 council-house in the valley of Onondaga. Here ambassadors 
 were received, alliances were adjusted, and all subjects of gen 
 eral interest discussed with exemplary harmony. The order of 
 debate was prescribed by time-honored customs ; and, in the 
 fiercest heat of controversy, the assembly maintained its iron 
 self-control. 
 
 "But the main stay of Iroquois polity was the system of 
 totemship. It was this which gave the structure its elastic 
 strength; and but for this, a mere confederacy of jealous and 
 warlike tribes must soon have been rent asunder by shocks 
 from without or discord from within. At some early period, the 
 Iroquois must have formed an individual nation, for the whole 
 people, irrespective of their separation into tribes, consisted of 
 eight totemic clans; and the members of each clan, to what 
 nation soever they belonged, were mutually bound to one 
 another by those close ties of fraternity which mark this sin 
 gular institution. 
 
 "Thus the five nations of the confederacy were laced 
 together by an eight-fold band; and to this hour their slender 
 remnants cling to one another with invincible tenacity. The 
 Iroquois had no laws, but they had ancient customs, which took 
 the place of laws. Each man, or rather each clan, was the 
 avenger of its own wrongs; but the manner of the retaliation 
 was fixed by established usage. The tribal sachems, and even 
 the great council at Onondaga, had no power to compel the exe 
 cution of their decrees; yet they were looked up to with a 
 respect which the soldier's bayonet or the sheriff's staff would 
 never have commanded ; and it is highly to the honor of the 
 Indian character that they could exact so great an authority where 
 there was nothing to enforce it but the weight of moral power. 
 
 " The superiority of the intellect of the Iroquois was as 
 
310 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 marked as that of their political organization. The energy of 
 their fancy displayed itself in that peculiar eloquence which 
 their wild democracy tended to call forth, and to which ,the 
 mountain and the forest, the torrent and the storm, lent their 
 stores of noble imagery. That to this imaginative vigor was 
 joined mental power of a different stamp, is witnessed by the 
 caustic irony of Garangula and Sagoyewatha, and no less by the 
 subtle policy, sagacious as it was treacherous, which marked the 
 dealings of the Iroquois with surrounding tribes. 
 
 " Their dwellings and w r orks of defense were far from con 
 temptible, either in their dimensions or in their structure; and 
 though by the several attacks of the French, and especially by 
 the invasion of De Nonville, in 1687, and of Frontenac, nine 
 years later, their fortified towns were leveled to the earth, never 
 again to reappear; yet in the works of Champlain and other 
 early writers, we find abundant evidence of their pristine condi 
 tion. Along the banks of the Mohawk, among the hills and 
 hollows of Onondaga, in the forests of Oneida and Cayuga, on 
 the romantic shores of Seneca Lake, and the rich borders of 
 the Genesee, surrounded by waving maize fields, and encircled 
 from afar by the green margin of the forest, stood the ancient 
 strongholds of the confederacy. The clustering dwellings were 
 encompassed by palisades, in single, double, or triple rows, 
 pierced with loop-holes, furnished with platforms within, for the 
 convenience of the defenders, with magazines of stones, to hurl 
 upon the heads of the enemy, and with water conductors to 
 extinguish any fire which might be kindled from without. 
 
 " The area which these defenses inclosed was often several 
 acres in extent, and the dwellings, ranged in order within, were 
 sometimes more than a hundred feet in length. Posts, firmly 
 driven into the ground, with an intervening frame-work of poles, 
 formed the basis of the structure; and its sides and arched roof 
 were closely covered with layers of elm bark. Each of the 
 larger dwellings contained several distinct families, whose sep 
 arate fires were built along the central space, while compart- 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 311 
 
 ments on each side, like the stalls of a stable, afforded some 
 degree of privacy. Here rude couches were prepared, and bear 
 and* deer skins spread ; while above, the ripened ears of maize, 
 suspended in rows, formed a golden tapestry. 
 
 "In the long evenings of midwinter, when in the wilderness 
 without the trees cracked with biting cold, and the forest paths 
 were clogged with snow, then, around the lodge-fires of the Iro- 
 quois, warriors, squaws, and restless, naked children were clus 
 tered in social groups, each dark face brightening in the fickle 
 firelight, while, with jest and laugh, the pipe passed round from 
 hand to hand. Perhaps some shriveled old warrior, the story 
 teller of the tribe, recounted to attentive ears the deeds of 
 ancient heroism, legends of spirits and monsters, or tales of 
 witches and vampires superstitions not less rife among this 
 all-believing race than among the nations of the transatlantic 
 world. 
 
 " The life of the Iroquois, though void of those multiplying 
 phases which vary the routine of civilized existence, was one 
 of sharp excitement and sudden contrast. The chase, the war 
 path, the dance, the festival, the game of hazard, the race of 
 political ambition, all had their votaries. When the assembled 
 sachems had resolved on war against some foreign tribe, and 
 when, from their great council-house of bark, in the Valley of 
 Onondaga, their messengers had gone forth to invite the warriors 
 to arms, then from east to west, through the farthest bounds of 
 the confederacy, a thousand warlike hearts caught up the sum 
 mons with glad alacrity. With fasting and praying, and con 
 sulting dreams and omens ; with invoking the war-god, and 
 dancing the frantic war-dance, the warriors sought to insure the 
 triumph of their arms; and, these strange rites concluded, they 
 began their stealthy progress, full of confidence, through the 
 devious pathways of the forest. 
 
 "For days and weeks, in anxious expectation, the villagers 
 await the result. And now, as evening closes, a shrill, wild 
 cry, pealing from afar, over the darkening forest, proclaims the 
 
 17 
 
312 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 return of the victorious warriors. The village is alive with 
 sudden commotion; and snatching sticks and stones, knives and 
 hatchets, men, women, and children, yelling like fiends let loose, 
 swarm out of the narrow portal, to visit upon the miserable 
 captives a foretaste of the deadlier torments in store for them. 
 And now, the black arches of the forest glow with the fires of 
 death ; and with brandished torch and firebrand the frenzied 
 multitude close around their victim. The pen shrinks to write, 
 the heart sickens to conceive, the fierceness of his agony ; yet 
 still, amid the din of his tormentors, rises his clear A 7 oice of 
 scorn and defiance. The work is done ; the blackened trunk is 
 flung to the dogs, and, with clamorous shouts and hootings, the 
 murderers seek to drive away the spirit of their victim. 
 
 "The Irpquois reckoned these barbarities among their most 
 exquisite enjoyments ; and yet they had other sources of pleas 
 ure, which made up in frequency and in innocence all that they 
 lacked in intensity. Each passing season had its feasts and 
 dances, often mingling religion with social pastime. The young 
 had their frolics and merry-makings; and the old had their no 
 less frequent councils, where conversation and laughter alter 
 nated with grave deliberations for the public weal. There were 
 also stated periods, marked by the recurrence of momentous 
 ceremonies, in which the whole community took part the mys 
 tic sacrifice of the dogs, the wild orgies of the dream-feast, and 
 the loathsome festival of the exhumation of the dead. Yet, in 
 the intervals of war and hunting, these multiform occupations 
 would often fail; and, while the women were toiling in the 
 cornfields, the lazy warriors vainly sought relief from the scanty 
 resources of their own minds, and beguiled the hours with smok 
 ing or sleeping, with gambling or gallantry. 
 
 "If we seek for a single trait pre-eminently characteristic 
 of the Iroquois, we shall find it in that boundless pride which 
 impelled them to style themselves, not inaptly as regards their 
 own race, 'the men surpassing all others.' 'Must I/ exclaimed 
 one of their great warriors, as he fell wounded among a crowd 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 313 
 
 of Algonquins, 'must I, who have made the whole earth trem 
 ble, now die by the hands of children?' Their power kept pace 
 with their pride. Their war-parties roamed over half America, 
 and their name was a terror from the Atlantic to the Missis 
 sippi ; but, when we ask the numerical strength of the dreaded 
 confederacy, when we discover that, in the days of their great 
 est triumphs, their united cantons could not have mustered four 
 thousand warriors, we stand amazed at the folly and dissension 
 which left so vast a region the prey of a handful of bold 
 marauders. Of the cities and villages now so thickly scattered 
 over the lost domain of the Iroquois, a single one might boast 
 a more numerous population than all the five united tribes." 
 
 Before leaving the history of the Iroquois, it is possible to 
 give the account of their terrible destruction of the Eries, which 
 is said to have been handed down by their traditions. This 
 mighty tribe, which, prior to their subjugation, far exceeded in 
 strength any other single tribe of Indians, lived at the lower 
 end of the lake which bears their name. Their chief town, 
 Tushuway, occupied the site of the modern city of Buffalo. 
 Jealous of the great confederacy to the eastward of them, the 
 proud Eries sent a challenge to the Senecas, their nearest neigh 
 bors, for a game of ball between one hundred young men from 
 each tribe. The great council of the Five Nations deliberated 
 upon the challenge, and decided to decline it. 
 
 The next year the " Lords of the Lake " renewed the chal 
 lenge. It was again declined. A repetition of it the third year 
 so inflamed the younger warriors of the Five Nations, that the 
 challenge was reluctantly accepted. One hundred braves, the 
 very flower of the confederacy, armed with nothing but the 
 small bat, used in ball-playing, and commanded by a chief of 
 approved experience, marched away through the forest to the 
 city of the Eries. A vast pile of furs, bracelets, beads, silver, 
 and copper was to be the stake. 
 
 The eventful day arrived. The great Eries far excelled the 
 more timid young men from the Five Nations in their self-con- 
 
314 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 fidence. But the superiority went no farther. After a despe 
 rate contest the Iroquois bore off the prizes. The chief of the 
 chagrined Eries at once challenged the visitors to a foot-race, 
 with ten runners on a side. The Iroquois accommodated him, 
 and were again victorious. As a last trial of skill, the Erie 
 chieftain proposed to select ten wrestlers to be matched against 
 an equal number from the ranks of the visitors, the victorious 
 antagonist, in each case, to dispatch his adversary on the spot, 
 by braining him with a tomahawk and scalping him. This 
 bloody proposal was assented to by the Iroquois with altered 
 countenances. 
 
 The first pair of wrestlers struggled furiously. The Iro 
 quois finally threw his opponent on the ground, but refused to 
 kill him. In a moment the angry chief of the Eries flung his 
 own tomahawk revolving through the air and with unerring aim 
 scattered the brains of his defeated kinsman on the soil of the 
 arena. Another pair of champions from the rival sides then 
 grappled for the conflict. Again victory was achieved by the 
 strangers. Again the victor refused to strike his fallen foe. 
 Again the Erie chieftain, black and choking with a tempest of 
 rage, killed the vanquished brave with his own hand. A third 
 time the singular scene took place. This was the last. At a 
 signal from their leader, the well-disciplined Iroquois suddenly 
 withdrew from the field, and, taking their canoes, returned 
 home to relate their victories and the strange customs of their 
 hosts. 
 
 The Eries at once resolved on war. The confederacy, on 
 the other hand, prepared for defense. Three thousand war 
 riors and a thousand reserves rode with nodding plumes into 
 the forest to meet their foes. The two armies met half-way 
 between Canandaigua Lake and the Genesee River. The battle 
 raged with indescribable fury. The Eries saw too late that 
 their enemies, too weak to cope with them single-handed, had 
 combined against them, and that it was no longer a fight for 
 glory, but a struggle for existence. Hour after hour, far into 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 315 
 
 nightfall, the awful carnage proceeded. With unyielding cour 
 age and invincible obstinacy the doomed Eries, like the Spartans 
 of old, refused to fly, but fought to the bitter end, preferring 
 death on the battle-field to survival of defeat. The battle 
 was lost. 
 
 The victors, like avenging demons, pushed on to the Erie 
 strongholds. Using their canoes for scaling ladders, the mad 
 dened Iroquois, insane with the delirium of victory, leaped 
 down like tigers, and butchered the defenders without mercy. 
 For the Eries it was not merely defeat. It was destruction. 
 The proud people were literally destroyed from the face of the 
 earth. To-day nothing remains to tell us that they ever existed, 
 except the name of ERIE, which the generations of men still 
 give to the blue inland sea along whose shores. they flourished 
 and then fell forever. 
 
 Such also was the fate of the noble Hurons, the Neutral 
 Nation, and the Wyandots. 
 
 Thus, within less than a quarter of a century, four nations, 
 the most brave and powerful of the North American savages, 
 sank before the arms of the confederates. Nor did their tri 
 umphs end here. Within the same short space they subdued 
 their southern neighbors, the Lenape or Delawares, the leading 
 members of the Algonquin family, and expelled the Ottawas, a 
 numerous people of the same lineage, from the borders of the 
 river which bears their name. In the north, the west, and the 
 south, their conquests embraced every adjacent tribe ; and mean 
 while, their war-parties were harassing the French of Canada 
 with reiterated inroads, and yelling the war-whoop under the 
 very walls of Quebec. 
 
 They were the worst of conquerors. Inordinate pride, the 
 lust of blood and dominion, were the mainsprings of their war 
 fare, and their victories were stained with every excess of savage 
 passion. That their triumphs must have cost them dear ; that, 
 in spite of their cautious tactics, these multiplied conflicts must 
 have greatly abridged their strength, would appear inevitable. 
 
316 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Their losses were, in fact, considerable; but every breach was 
 repaired by means of a practice which they, in common with 
 other tribes, constantly adhered to. 
 
 When their vengeance was glutted by the sacrifice of a suffi 
 cient number of captives, they spared the lives of the remainder 
 and adopted them as members of their confederated tribes, sep 
 arating wives from husbands and children from parents, and 
 distributing them among different villages, in order that old ties 
 and associations might be more completely broken up. This 
 policy, as Schoolcraft informs us, was designated among them 
 by a name which signifies "flesh cut into pieces and scattered 
 among the tribes." 
 
 With two explanations, we resume the thread of the story, 
 interrupted to relate the history and character of the Iroquois. 
 A southern tribe, the Tuscaroras, having been expelled from 
 their former home, came north, upon the invitation of their old 
 allies, the Five Nations, and were received into the confederacy, 
 which, from that time, became the " Six Nations." Although 
 the Iroquois had been such as we have related, it is to be 
 remembered that they had been greatly weakened by successive 
 wars, and at the time of Sir William Johnson, though still pow 
 erful, the " Six Nations " were very far from being what they 
 had once been. 
 
 From early times the Iroquois were allies of the English and 
 Dutch colonists of the coast. Through them the confederacy 
 procured fire-arms and ammunition far earlier than other nations, 
 and by this means their power was infinitely increased. In 
 return they constituted themselves a sort of police for the colo 
 nies against other tribes of Indians. They had early come in 
 conflict with the French, as we have seen in the story of La 
 Salle, and their prejudices were for the English. But the latter, 
 by long years of neglect and aggression, lost their advantage. 
 
 When the French and Indian war broke out, the Six Nations 
 were strongly disposed to join their red brethren in a war which 
 was to drive the white man out of the country which he had 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 317 
 
 wrongfully invaded. That they did not do so was solely owing 
 to the ascendancy and influence, the earnest eloquence, the tire 
 less efforts, the superb diplomacy of Sir William Johnson. For 
 his sake they buried the hatchet. Such an important figure did 
 the British Government find him, that he was appointed Indian 
 commissioner for the North, a position which he held for twenty 
 years, rendering heroic and invaluable service to England. He 
 was further made baronet, and received vast grants of land, as 
 a reward for his work during the war. When Pontiac, "the 
 archangel fallen," planned his gigantic conspiracy, the baronet 
 again needed all his influence and resources to hold the confed 
 eracy to its alliance with England. Indeed, the Senecas, far 
 thest removed from his influence, did get away from him and 
 join the conspiracy. 
 
 From 1763 Sir William lived in ease, his immense posses 
 sions multiplying year by year. But a struggle was coming, in 
 which it would have been as difficult for him to choose his own 
 side as for his Indian allies themselves. The volcanic fires of 
 the AMERICAN REVOLUTION were, at the time of which we write, 
 shooting their forks of flame upward through the fissures in the 
 political and social crust. Which side should he take? Should 
 he, on the one hand, turn traitor to the government which he 
 had served so long, and from which he had received such abun 
 dant favors? Or should he, on the other hand, let loose the 
 thunderbolts of savage warfare which he held within his grasp, 
 upon the struggling colonists, his neighbors, friends, and coun 
 trymen, who were so clearly in the right? He never gave his 
 final decision. 
 
 Deeply disturbed at the approaching crisis, and perhaps 
 lacking the nerve which had belonged to the earlier years of 
 his strange life, the great baronet gave way to his anxieties, and 
 died suddenly in the summer of 1774. The belief was wide 
 spread at the time that his sudden death was the work of his 
 own hand. 
 
 The zeal of Sir William Johnson for the improvement of his 
 
318 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Mohawk neighbors had planted churches and sent missionaries 
 among them. More than this, he selected promising youths 
 from the Mohawk nation, and sent them to be educated at a 
 school in Lebanon, Connecticut. 
 
 Women are often designing, and use their influence over men 
 for their own purposes. It is natural to find that Mistress 
 Mollie Brant made use of her influence with the baronet to 
 further the interests of her brother Joseph. He was born about 
 1742, and became a lad of unusual precocity. Of course he 
 became the recipient of Sir William's bounty. He was sent to 
 the school at Lebanon. He was employed by the baronet in the 
 discharge of his multitudinous duties as Indian commissioner. 
 He acted as interpreter, he labored to carry out his master's 
 notions concerning his people, and he was often sent on long 
 journeys to the wild Indians of the west. In this work he early 
 exhibited rare diplomatic ability. 
 
 Nor was this all. His precociousness and talent were turned 
 to the assistance of the missionaries. The smart heathen helped 
 to prepare translations of portions of the Bible, and of the 
 prayer book and ritual, into the Mohawk tongue. With a 
 readiness which is suspicious, he joined the Episcopal Church. 
 So zealous was Joseph in the observance of the forms of wor 
 ship, and in partaking of the sacraments of the Church, that 
 enthusiastic friends pointed him out as a model Christian. 
 
 As he took the rank which his lineage and his native abilities 
 alike insured him, these good missionaries predicted that he 
 would absolutely lift his people out of their savage state and 
 transform them into solid citizens. No doubt they expected the 
 wild Mohawk warriors to lay aside their filthy blankets, and don 
 knee-breeches, silk stockings, knee-buckles, and powdered wigs, 
 all on account of Joseph. He lived much of the time with Sir 
 William, and was devotedly attached to him. His Indian name 
 was Thayendanegea, of which " Brant " was a translation. 
 
 At the time of the baronet's death, Brant was a powerful 
 Mohawk sachem. The title and much of the property of Sir 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 319 
 
 William went to Sir John Johnson, the only son of the dead 
 baronet. Guy Johnson, the son-in-law, became Indian commis 
 sioner. To him Joseph Brant became private secretary. By 
 means of their great wealth and family prestige, Sir John and 
 Guy Johnson naturally inherited much of the influence of Sir 
 William over the Six Nations. This influence was greatly 
 strengthened by the attachment of Brant. 
 
 Meanwhile, the colonies were hurrying forward to a crisis. 
 The spirit of patriotism entered into and possessed the people. 
 Resistance to tyranny, free-trade, and self-government became 
 the catch-words of the hour. The struggling colonies, hitherto 
 a mere outlying and uninfluential province of a great empire, 
 suddenly felt themselves assuming a vast and startling import 
 ance before the eyes of mankind. 
 
 Political discussion became loud and heated. The people 
 found themselves ranged into two hostile parties. The great 
 majority were patriots. They believed in the colonies having 
 justice, though the heavens fell. These were the Whigs. 
 There was also another party, a minority, who retained their old 
 attachment to England. They justified the home government. 
 They abused the Whigs. They were opposed to revolution and 
 even to agitation. They were the Conservatives, or Tories. 
 The lines between these two parties were very clearly marked 
 out. The warfare was bitter. The same party lines exist in 
 every epoch of progress. They are the Radicals and Conserva 
 tives. The one demands a change, a reform, a revolution. The 
 latter cries out, " Let be ; let well enough alone ; peace ! peace !" 
 when there is no peace. 
 
 These party dissensions extended to the Mohawk valley. 
 As elsewhere, there were Whigs and Tories. The majority of 
 the people were enthusiastic Whigs. They wished to better 
 their condition. They were therefore Radicals. 
 
 The Johnsons, however, were Tories. Property and aristoc 
 racy are conservative. The wealthy few who are on top are 
 comfortable. They are averse to change. They desire only 
 
320 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 that things remain as they are. If you touch them they 
 scream. This is natural, but it is selfish. On the other hand, 
 the many who are underneath, want to take the risk and make 
 a change. They have nothing to lose and every thing to gain. 
 This also is natural, but selfish. 
 
 Sir John Johnson held a title of nobility under the British 
 crown. Gruy Johnson held the lucrative office of Indian com 
 missioner under the same government. They had vast posses 
 sions. They lived in baronial splendor in magnificent stone 
 castles, from whose turrets the eye swept over an estate, 
 stretching many miles along the lovely valley, and supporting 
 a vast tenant population. These gentlemen, therefore, were 
 strongly conservative. What cared they for a tax of a few 
 cents on tea ? Their dinner table would not be thereby deprived 
 of the steaming tea-pot. What was it to them if troops were 
 quartered in Boston? It cost them nothing. So they wanted 
 things to continue as they were. 
 
 As the times became more violent and explosive, the colo 
 nists instinctively felt, rather than foresaw, that war was inevit 
 able. In case this should come to pass, the leading men also 
 rightly foresaw that the western tribes of Indians, always ready 
 to strike a blow at the white invaders, would seize the oppor 
 tunity to assail the colonies on the west, while England would 
 levy war on the Canada frontier and along the coast. While 
 the attitude of the western Indian was thus certainly hostile and 
 dangerous, that of the Six Nations was more a matter of doubt. 
 From the earliest times, the Iroquois, with the single exception 
 of the Senecas, during the war of Pontiac, had been allies of 
 the colonies and therefore of England. To. which would the 
 Indian allies incline if the colonies engaged in war with 
 England ? 
 
 Both parties to the contest saw that the alliance of the Six 
 Nations was a strategic point. The powerful influence of the 
 Johnsons and of Brant might be confidently counted on by 
 England. The colonies relied mainly on the old friendship, and 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHA WKS. 321 
 
 the influence of the patriotic missionaries. They hoped simply 
 that the Iroquois would remain neutral. The Oneidas early 
 took "this position. In May, 1775, their chiefs wrote to the 
 governor of New York, "You are two brothers of one blood. 
 We are unwilling to join on either side in such a contest, for 
 we bear an equal affection to both Old and New England. 
 Should the great king of England apply to us for aid, we shall 
 deny him ; if the colonies apply we shall refuse. The present 
 situation of you two brothers is new and strange to us. We 
 Indians can not find, nor recollect, in the traditions of our 
 ancestors, the like case or a similar instance." 
 
 Both British and Americans were busily engaged in fever 
 ish preparations for war. Sir John Johnson constructed heavy 
 fortifications around his castle. Guy Johnson, alarmed at the 
 popular threatenings, raised a band of several hundred Mohawk 
 warriors, headed by Brant, and re-enforced by the leading chiefs 
 of the Senecas, Cayugas, and Onondagas. With this force he 
 fled to Oswego and then to Canada, leaving his splendid man 
 sion desolate and unoccupied. 
 
 The colonies, on the other hand, issued a call for a grand 
 council at Albany, in August. The meeting was attended very 
 thinly, except by the Oneidas, and the Lower clan of the 
 Mohawks. However, the representatives of the colonial con 
 gress made speeches, urging the Six Nations to remain neutral. 
 A treaty to that affect was made, but it amounted to little. 
 
 On their return home, a plague broke out among the 
 Mohawks. Like all ignorant people, they regarded it as a vis 
 itation from the Great Spirit. They believed that he was 
 angry for their desertion of the cause of the king. Supersti 
 tion is both blind and deaf. It has neither eyes to look at 
 facts, nor ears to listen to argument. It transforms a man into 
 a mummy. The Mohawks were superstitious. Many of them 
 at once joined Brant's forces. A few, however, of the Lower 
 clan still remained neutral. Probably they were not much 
 troubled with the plague. 
 
322 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 As a price of their neutrality they demanded one thing, 
 that Sir John Johnson be left at his house in peace. This gen 
 tleman on his part bound himself by agreement to remain neu 
 tral. This promise was a sham. He remained in his fortified 
 castle with a strong force of Indians and tenantry. He 
 intrigued incessantly to excite the remaining Iroquois to a 
 revolt. He carried on constant correspondence with leading 
 Tories. In other words, he was a spy. 
 
 The colonies resolved to arrest him. Troops were dispatched 
 up the Mohawk Valley for that purpose. A messenger was 
 sent in advance to quiet the nerves of the excitable Iroquois. 
 In this way Sir John heard of the plan for the seizure of his 
 person. He hurriedly buried his treasure in the garden, and, 
 regretfully leaving his splendid home, plunged into the wilder 
 ness with a band of retainers, to make his way to Canada. 
 After nineteen days of hardship and suffering the proud baronet, 
 ragged, footsore, and starved, with such remnant of his fam 
 ished followers as had not fallen by the weary wayside, arrived 
 at Montreal. Such are the vicissitudes of war ! 
 
 Meanwhile, Joseph Brant had been advanced to the position 
 of principal war-chief of the Six Nations. Around his standard 
 rallied the dark warriors of the great confederacy, in whose 
 veins ran the blood of the most terrible fighters among the 
 American Indians. Thayendanegea was a fit leader for them. 
 He was tall, erect, and majestic, with the manners and bearing 
 of a king of men. He was distinguished alike for his courage 
 and his intelligence, for his prowess as a warrior and his skill 
 as a diplomate. His name was a tower of strength among the 
 nations of the confederacy. While in native genius and origi 
 nality of intellect he was inferior to Powhatan, Philip, and Pon- 
 tiac, he knew more of the world than either of his great prede 
 cessors. If he was not inspired by the burning loyalty to his 
 race, by the lofty ambitions and purposes of the two latter, he 
 at least had a much wider education and range of ideas. If he 
 was less of an Indian, he was more of a white man. 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 32$ 
 
 Although Thayendanegea had pledged himself to the cause 
 of the king, he still hesitated to take up the hatchet. The 
 Americans opened the campaign in Canada with a brilliant vic 
 tory. Our Indian friend had an eye to the main chance. He 
 sailed for England in the winter of 1775-6 to interview the 
 king, and, no doubt, with a view to forming an estimate of the 
 war strength of the English. The wily war-chief wanted to be 
 on the winning side. 
 
 On his arrival in London he was conducted to a rather 
 obscure inn, called " The Swan with the Two Necks." State 
 lier lodgings were soon provided for the great " Indian king," 
 as the Englishmen called him. But Brant politely declined, 
 declaring that the kind treatment of his host at " The 
 Swan" had won his heart, so that he could not think of leav 
 ing him. 
 
 In this Joseph showed his innocence. He mistook the 
 broad smile and hearty handshake, which forms such an impor 
 tant part of the landlord's stock in trade, for the genuine article. 
 If he was taken in by the patronizing airs of the shrewd tavern- 
 keeper, Brant showed no other sings of verdancy. He dressed 
 in European clothing. His courtly manners and clear-cut En 
 glish caused the throng of titled men and jeweled women who 
 sought his company and pressed upon him the honors of the 
 capital to lose sight of the fact that this lordly gentleman of for 
 eign accent and distinguished air was, in fact, a red-fisted savage, 
 accustomed to lead his yelling band of braves to midnight mas 
 sacres, a man whose flashing tomahawk eagerly brained the 
 fallen foe, and whose nervous fingers had often clutched the 
 bloody scalps of his victims. 
 
 When he appeared at court on visits of business or ceremony, 
 he laid aside his European habit, and wore a gorgeous costume 
 of the fashion of his own people. Bands of silver encircled 
 his sinewy arms. Tall plumes adorned his head-dress, and 
 highly colored fabrics, hung with copper pendants, formed his 
 clothing. A glittering tomahawk and a scalping-knife dangled 
 
324 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 carelessly from his belt. On such occasions he attracted the 
 greatest attention. 
 
 Of course, the magnificent entertainments and presents which 
 were pressed upon the war-chief of the Six Nations, together 
 with the material splendor of England, the dazzling pageantry 
 of the court, and the soldiery, with their equipment of cannon, 
 small arms, ammunition, uniforms, and- all the accoutrements of 
 war, made a profound impression on his mind. When he sailed 
 for America in April, he had pledged himself and his people to 
 the cause of England in her conflict with the colonies. 
 
 He and his six hundred warriors in Canada at once 
 joined the British army, and commenced vigorous hostilities. 
 The great majority of the Iroquois still remained in their 
 ancient seats in the Mohawk valley, and seemed peaceably 
 inclined to the colonists. The people of the frontier built 
 block-houses and organized parties of rangers for self-defense. 
 They kept scouts constantly on the watch for an Indian out 
 break. The isolated settlers moved into towns. At Cherry 
 Valley, the most exposed point, the inhabitants, daily excited by 
 the news of the battles of the Revolution, were deeply anxious 
 about the Indians. But month after month rolled by, and the 
 Iroquois still lingered idly in their wigwams. 
 
 In the spring of 1777 Brant reappeared in the Mohawk 
 valley. -The influence of the great war-chief at once made 
 itself felt in the remotest wigwam. Carefully concealing his 
 plans, he commenced collecting an enormous war-party at the 
 Indian town of Oghkwaga. There were further indications, as 
 the excited and patriotic Whig settlers thought, of a Tory upris 
 ing, in connection with Brant's movement. On June 15th, 
 General Herkimer reached Cherry Valley with a force of three 
 hundred local militia. He was an old acquaintance of Brant, 
 and determined to have an interview with him. The meeting 
 was near Unadillo. 
 
 On the first day Brant threw off the mask, and declared 
 himself as a soldier of the king. By agreement, the conference 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 325 
 
 was to be resumed in the morning. That night Herkimer laid 
 a dark plot to massacre the chief and his few attendants when 
 they returned to his camp the following day. Brant, however, 
 was up to such tricks. At the appointed hour he appeared in 
 Herkimer's camp with fiVe hundred picked warriors, plumed and 
 painted for war. The raw recruits with Herkimer were com 
 pletely in the power of the Indians. With a haughty gesture 
 Brant said, "You may go." The colonists took the hint, and 
 we nt at the highest possible speed. 
 
 At Cherry Valley the people selected the strongest house for 
 a fort, surrounding it with embankments. Near this place the 
 road ran along the edge of a precipice. A hundred and fifty 
 feet below lay a gloomy glen, filled with a dense growth of 
 evergreens. In this lonely spot, Brant and a half-dozen braves 
 hid in ambush. Late one afternoon, a gallant young colonial 
 officer, "well-mounted, and clad in a suit of ash-colored velvet," 
 spurred out of the settlement along the road by the glen on 
 some errand of war. A few moments after the gentleman had 
 left the village, the sharp crack of rifles was heard from the 
 direction of the glen, and shortly the young officer's horse came 
 galloping back, riderless, and the saddle crimsoned with blood. 
 
 A party of armed men at once started out to solve the 
 mystery. Not till the following day, however, did they find 
 the lifeless body of the gay lieutenant, gay no longer, but 
 rather pale, mangled, and bloody. Brant, however, withdrew 
 after this murder, without attacking Cherry Valley. He was 
 deceived as to the strength of the place by some false dis 
 patches found by him on the person of a captive whom he 
 secured near the settlement. The man carried double dis 
 patches, and, when captured, was smart enough to destroy the 
 genuine and surrender the bogus documents. 
 
 While the settlers were being daily horrified by these and 
 a hundred other isolated deeds of violence, information was 
 brought them by friendly Indians and scouts of an impending 
 danger of much greater magnitude. As Burgoyne descended 
 
326 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 from the north along Lakes Champlain and George, Colonel 
 Barry St. Leger, with Thayendanegea's wild warriors, was to 
 rendezvous at Oswego, and then sweep down the Mohawk valley 
 from the west, conquering and destroying, and form a junction 
 with Burgoyne at Albany, whence the united armies would 
 descend the Hudson. At the upper end of the valley, on a 
 strategic spot on the carrying path which led from the Mohawk 
 River to Wood Creek, stood Fort Schuyler. Wood Creek 
 flowed into Oneida Lake, from which the Oswego River led 
 into Lake Ontario. The carrying path between the Mohawk 
 and Wood Creek was thus the only interruption which the war 
 canoes of the Iroquois would meet in their voyage from Oswego 
 to Albany. The carrying path was the door to the Mohawk 
 valley. Fort Schuyler was the lock on the door. To unlock 
 that door was the first task of Colonel Barry St. Leger and 
 Thayendanegea. 
 
 Fort Schuyler was an old fortification, originally built by 
 the British during the French and Indian War, at an enormous 
 expense. It was not a mere block-house, nor a stockade, but, 
 as originally laid out, was a regular fort, costing over a quarter 
 of a million of dollars. It was square, with a bastion at each 
 corner. It had had the traditional moat or ditch, the glacis 
 or earth embankment, and the draw-bridge. A covered way led 
 to a spring. In the center of the ditch had been planted rows 
 of pickets. In the interior was constructed what was supposed 
 to be a bomb-proof citadel. On one side, the fortification was 
 further protected by a swamp. But at the outbreak of the 
 Revolution the old fort was a miserable ruin. The ditch was 
 filled up. The draw-bridge had fallen to pieces. The rows of 
 pickets consisted of nothing but rotten stumps, projecting a foot 
 or so from the ground. The ground about the fort, which had 
 been cleared with infinite trouble of every obstruction which 
 might afford a cover to the enemy, was once more overgrown 
 with a dense forest, which flung its shadows over the decaying 
 fortification. 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 327 
 
 In the spring of 1777, Colonel Gansevoort took command of 
 the feeble and sickly garrison. Such men as were able to work 
 were employed in placing the fort in a defensible state. But 
 their feeble labors made slight impression on the old ruin. The 
 commandant ceased not to write for re-enforcements and sup 
 plies. On the 4th of July, when St. Leger's plan was already 
 made known, the place was still in a deplorable condition. Can 
 non there were, but not a ball in the magazine. The rifle balls 
 on hand were too large for the fire-locks, and there were no 
 moulds to make others. The supply of powder was dangerously 
 small. As for provision, a quantity of spoiled beef, sufficient, 
 perhaps, for six weeks, formed the larger part of the supplies. 
 
 From time to time, small re-enforcements had reached the 
 fort, until the garrison was something over five hundred men. 
 Of these, a hundred and fifty were employed in cutting and 
 hauling timber to repair the fort and to build an obstruction in 
 the channel of Wood Creek. As many more were required to 
 keep guard over the workmen, for the woods were infested by 
 hostile Indians. Others still were out on scouting and foraging 
 parties, so that the fort proper was left with scarcely a man 
 behind the ramparts. 
 
 One morning two officers went gunning, to secure, if possible, 
 some untainted meat. A mile and a half from the fort they 
 were fired upon. Madison was killed outright, but Gregg was 
 only wounded. The Indians sprang forward to secure the scalp. 
 Gregg, with incomparable grit, feigned death, and endured the 
 horrible pain of being scalped, without the quiver of a muscle, 
 or the utterance of a groan. 
 
 Some fishermen, a quarter of a mile distant, were that after 
 noon disturbed by a dog, who bounded toward them, and by 
 lamentable howls, and every sign of distress, attracted their 
 attention. The poor animal would run a short distance into the 
 forest, and seeing they did not follow, would return and pull at 
 their clothing, as if asking them to come with him. The men's 
 suspicions were aroused, and they started to follow the dog, 
 
 18 
 
328 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 who at once gave a yelp of joy. Every time the men stopped 
 he would resume his supplications. 
 
 At last the men reached the spot where lay the dog's fallen 
 master, Captain Gregg, still breathing, but stupefied from pain 
 and loss of blood. They bore him to the fort, with the corpse 
 of his companion, followed by the faithful dog, who had seen his 
 master's need. Gregg afterwards recovered. 
 
 On another day sixteen of the garrison were out cutting 
 turf, about three-quarters of a mile away. All at once they 
 discovered a party of thirty or forty Indians coming toward 
 them at a rapid run. The men turned to fly. Only nine men 
 reached the fort. Of these, two were badly wounded; a third 
 was dying in the arms of his companions. 
 
 This was not all. On the 3d of July, a little girl ran 
 screaming toward the fort, with a basket in her hand, and her 
 calico frock stained with blood. She and two others of her age 
 had been picking berries in the neighborhood. The other chil 
 dren had been killed, while she herself was wounded, though 
 slightly. 
 
 While the garrison of Fort Schuyler were thus preparing, as 
 well as they could, for the coming storm, of which the indica- 
 cations were so clear, the friendly Oneidas looked on the 
 approach of Brant with as much uneasiness as the whites them 
 selves. Their neutrality had incurred the wrath of the other 
 tribes, and they feared, not without reason, that the indiscrimi 
 nate fury of the invaders might involve them in destruction. 
 They ceased not to urge the colonies to send prompt and power 
 ful succor to Fort Schuyler. Ticonderoga had fallen before 
 Burgoyne without the firing of a shot. " The chiefs " wrote the 
 Oneidas, with cutting directness, " desire the commanding officers 
 of Fort Schuyler not to make a Ticonderoga of it." 
 
 On the 2d of August, a re-enforcement of two hundred 
 men, with two bateaux of provision, reached Fort Schuyler. 
 The supplies were hurried into the fort as fast as possible, for 
 the enemy was expected at any moment. All scouting and 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 329 
 
 repairing^ parties had been called into the fort. The time for 
 further strengthening their defenses was gone. The siege was 
 about to begin. As the boats were just emptied of their cargoes, 
 and the last armfuls were being hurried into the fort, the sava 
 ges burst from the forest with loud yells. The captain of the 
 expedition, with drawn sword, hurried his men forward. Too 
 brave to t^iter the fort before his men, he remained to the last, 
 and was unfortunately made prisoner. 
 
 The siege was begun. Inside the fort were seven hundred 
 and fifty men, with supplies and ammunition for six weeks, and 
 no longer. But *the garrison was without a flag ! In this 
 emergency stripes of white from officer's shirts, of blue from a 
 cloak captured from the enemy, and of red from some ragged 
 sashes, were sewed together, and the patchwork run up on the 
 flag-staff. The besieging army numbered some seventeen hun 
 dred, composed of one thousand warriors under Thayendanegea, 
 together with some Hessian and Canadian troops. They at once 
 threw up redoubts for their batteries and commenced active 
 hostilities. 
 
 Meanwhile, General Herkimer was marching to the relief of 
 the defenders of Fort Schuyler, at the head of eight hundred 
 militia-men, from the anxious settlements farther .down the val 
 ley. Thayendanegea was kept constantly informed of Herkimer's 
 movements. He repeated the stratagem which had resulted in 
 the destruction of Braddock's army and brought Bouquet's 
 entire command so near to death. 
 
 A few miles below the fort, the, Albany road, along which 
 Herkimer was advancing, crossed a low marsh by means of a 
 causeway. Just at this point the road was intersected by an 
 immense lateral ravine, r v depression. Here, with devilish 
 sagacity, Thayendanegea amoushed his dark followers. They 
 were arranged in a circle, in which a narrow segment was left 
 open at the bridge, for the militia-men to enter the trap. As 
 soon as the main body had crossed the bridge, a band of war 
 riors rushed in to close the gap of the circle, completely inclos- 
 
330 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ing the colonists, with the exception of the rear guard, consist 
 ing of about sixty men, and the supply train, which had not 
 entered the causeway. 
 
 A frightful struggle ensued. Herkimer was wounded at the 
 first fire. Propped against the foot of a tree, with a pipe in his 
 mouth, the brave old man continued to command his men. From 
 
 THE PATTLE NEAR FORT SCHUYLER. 
 
 every side the savages poured in the most galling fire. Every 
 where that the men attempted, like wild beasts at bay, to break 
 through the fatal lines which encircled them, they were beaten 
 back with fearful slaughter. The men got stuck in the mire, 
 and the vast boa-constrictor, which had wound its fearful coils 
 about them, began to tighten. Yet many of the men fought 
 bravely. 
 
 Observing that a savage, waiting till a colonist had dis 
 charged his gun from behind some tree, would rush forward 
 and tomahawk him before he could reload, they placed two men 
 behind each tree, one reserving his fire. Finding themselves 
 

 JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 331 
 
 pressed on all sides, the militia-men disposed themselves in a 
 circle. It was a small wheel within a larger one. 
 
 Just as the Indians charged on their foes with desperate 
 valor, to conquer them at the point of the murderous bayonet, 
 a fearful thunder-storm broke over the dark field of battle. 
 The trees of the forest writhed in the fury of the tempest. 
 Unearthly bolts of lightning, followed by peal after peal of sky- 
 splitting thunder, lent horror to the scene. In a moment a 
 mighty flood of waters burst forth from the surcharged clouds. 
 The conflict of men became puny in comparison with the con 
 flict of the elements. The noise of battle was but a stillness 
 contrasted with the awful roar of the storm. The awed com 
 batants desisted. The dark clans of Thayendanegea withdrew 
 in sullen rage to the sheltering distance. 
 
 The tempest, however, gradually subsided. Not so the fierce 
 passions of the men. The Indians renewed the onset, re-enforced 
 by a detachment of Johnson's " Greens." These were American 
 Tories. Many of them were friends, or even relatives of the 
 members of the colonial militia. In the close hand to hand 
 fighting these foes recognized each other. With the fiercest 
 rage these enemies flew at each others' throats like tigers. 
 
 War is horrible. Civil war is awful. These neighbors and 
 acquaintances grappled each other, kicking, biting, stabbing, each 
 refusing to let go of his antagonist until, at last, some fatal thrust 
 opened the ruddy door through which the spirit took its flight. 
 As a ruse de guerre, another detachment of Greens hurried for 
 ward to the front with hats disguised as Americans. The men 
 were about to receive them as friends from the fort, when the 
 counterfeit was at the last moment discovered. 
 
 A militia-man ran forward to give his eager hand to an 
 ' acquaintance. The hand was grasped, but not in friendship. 
 The Tory sought to make his verdant friend a prisoner. In 
 the struggle, Captain Gardenier, of the colonial forces, sprang 
 forward and felled the would-be captor to the ground. Several 
 Greens set on him, the first falling dead, the second severely 
 
332 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 wounded. His spur catching in the clothes of one, threw Gar- 
 denier to the ground. A bayonet was just entering his breast, 
 when the brave man seized it, and, with a terrific effort, dragged 
 his opponent down, and used him as a shield from the blows of 
 two other assailants. One of the militia-men now ran to his 
 relief. As his foes turned on the new enemy, Gardenier sprang 
 to his feet, and buried his sword in the body of the man whom 
 he had dragged down. This was but one of a thousand indi 
 vidual combats. 
 
 The militia-men fought hand to hand with the Indians and 
 Greens. "Let me recall, gentlemen, to your recollection," said 
 the eloquent Gouverneur Morris at a later time, "that bloody 
 field in which Herkimer fell. There was found the Indian and 
 the white man, born on the banks of the Mohawk, their left 
 hand clenched in each other's hair, the right grasping in a gripe 
 of death the knife plunged in each other's heart. Thus they 
 lay frowning." 
 
 At last Thayendanegea reluctantly called off his braves, of 
 whom so many were falling. The colonists could not be driven 
 from the field. They had determined to die in their tracks 
 rather than yield. Two hundred of the Americans had been 
 killed, and twice as many more wounded or taken prisoner. 
 Hardly a cabin in the valley was there from which some father 
 or son had not gone forth to return no more. Many of the 
 unfortunate captives were tortured and put to death by the 
 Indians. The direct reason for the withdrawal of the enemy 
 was a spirited sally by the garrison of Fort Schuyler. So well 
 conducted was the sortie that nearly the entire camp equipage 
 of St. Leger fell into their hands. 
 
 Thus ended one of the bloodiest battles of the Revolution. 
 Thayendanegea had commanded the enemy in person. Heavy 
 as was the loss of the Americans, that of the enemy was still 
 heavier. Two or three days afterward a solitary scout chanced 
 to come upon the field of battle. " There I beheld the most 
 shocking sight I had ever witnessed. The Indians and white 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHA WKS. 333 
 
 men were mingled with one another just as they had been left 
 when death had first completed his work. Many bodies had 
 also been torn to pieces by wild beasts." 
 
 General Herkimer did not long survive the battle. His 
 wounded limb was unskillfully amputated. The flow of blood 
 was not properly staunched. As the hemorrhage renewed again 
 and again, the hero calmly called his friends about him. With 
 mind unclouded, and a body almost free from pain, he read the 
 thirty-eighth Psalm aloud, while the red tide ebbed fast away. 
 " Make haste to help me, Lord, my salvation." As the clos 
 ing words of the psalm died away on his pallid lips, the light 
 of an unseen morning momentarily lit up his eye, and then it 
 closed in eternal sleep. 
 
 Meanwhile the siege was resumed. One day an Indian 
 entered St. Leger's camp. His clothes were riddled with shot. 
 He was a half-crazy fellow, regarded by the Iroquois with con 
 siderable awe and superstition. With knowing looks and a few 
 significant words, he led them to believe that a vast army of 
 Americans was on the way to Fort Schuyler. He had, he said, 
 been informed in a dream. A panic seized the Indian camp. 
 Wigwams were hastily taken down and preparations made to 
 decamp. St. Leger persuaded, threatened, and expostulated. 
 In vain. The whole Indian army abandoned the siege, and fled 
 in precipitation before nightfall. For St. Leger no alternative 
 was left but retreat. As it turned out, the dreamer was a liar. 
 Having been captured by the Americans and condemned to 
 death, he was offered his liberty if he could frighten the 
 Indians away from Fort Schuyler. His brother stood as host- 
 ^age while the knave went on his errand, and, as we have seen, 
 achieved success. 
 
 During the winter of 1777-78 Brant kept his head-quarters 
 at Niagara, from which point he maintained constant communi 
 cation with the western Indians, inciting them to co-operate 
 with the Iroquois. As the spring advanced, he again returned 
 suddenly to his old haunts at Unadillo on the Susquehanna. 
 
334 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 This was sufficient to cause innumerable patriotic hearts to pop 
 into their owners' mouths. Brant, with a large force of war 
 riors, secure enough behind his fortifications, forthwith inspired 
 and directed incessant ^aids up and down the defenseless 
 valley. 
 
 Besides their Indian foes, the people were also torn by polit 
 ical animosities. In one locality the male settlers capable of 
 bearing arms were summoned from far and wide to meet the 
 king's commissioners at the house of Captain Mann, a wealthy 
 loyalist. At the appointed day a large assemblage met. Num 
 bers of Indians came, impressed by the warlike preparations. 
 Each man was required to take the oath of allegiance to the 
 king, and wear a scarlet badge on the hat. Earnest loyalists 
 wore red caps. Less zealous ones pinned on a small piece of 
 red cloth. Others, who were at heart Whigs, through fear of 
 confiscation and arrest, contented themselves with a bit of red 
 yarn. Two men refused absolutely to take the oath. Just as 
 they were about to be arrested, a thick cloud of dust down the 
 road betokened the approach of horsemen. In a moment a 
 strong body of American cavalry, with drawn swords flashing 
 in the sunlight, dashed up, and ordered the loyalist gathering 
 to disperse. 
 
 Captain Mann made his escape. The orders were to take 
 him alive, if possible, but dead, if not. Late at night, a young 
 patriot, a neighbor lad, found him in a wheat-stack. He sum 
 moned Mann to surrender on pain of instant death. The latter 
 answered with entreaties to be spared. The country boy hesi 
 tated to shoot down the richest man in the locality. He wa 
 vered. It was midnight. A heavy rain was falling. Perhaps, 
 in the pitchy darkness, he did not see Mann edging away. 
 Perhaps his heart softened, and at the crisis his nerve became 
 weak. The loyalist got away. 
 
 The whole country turned out to hound him down. In the 
 search a party ran across a stray Indian. He wore a bit of 
 scarlet cloth in his hat. Unstrung by excitement, the whites 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 337 
 
 absolutely butchered the poor fellow. The badge may have 
 been that of a loyalist. More likely the bright color had 
 caught the barbarian's eye, and he wore it as an ornament. 
 After fifteen days' search, Mann was captured in the mountains. 
 He was thrown into a prison at Albany, and detained until the 
 war was over. 
 
 During the year 1778 the valley was filled with a thousand 
 frightful rumors. Many of these were true. Innumerable 
 lonely farm-houses were plundered and burned, and their occu 
 pants massacred. Rage is often near-sighted. In their indis 
 criminate fury the Indians massacred a woman and six children. 
 She was the wife of a Tory. 
 
 But a greater enterprise was at hand. The valley of Wy 
 oming, in North-eastern Pennsylvania, is one of the loveliest 
 spots of earth. It is a second Eden. It has been the burden 
 of the poet's song and of the historian's admiration. Yet from 
 the earliest time this paradise had been the scene of the blood 
 iest contentions. Indian tribes had warred over it, until both 
 of the contending parties were extinct. A civil war had 
 broken out there between rival settlers from Connecticut and 
 Pennsylvania, and again drenched its soil with blood. But in 
 the year 1778, the sounds of violence had long since died away 
 in this sequestered vale, and the crimson foot-prints of war had 
 been effaced. From many a rude cabin chimney the blue smoke 
 curled peacefully upward toward the sky. Around many a 
 fireside sat happy families. 
 
 Towards this lovely spot the English commanders at Niag 
 ara turned their cruel eyes. A large force of whites and Indians 
 pushed across the country on their mission of destruction. Two 
 or three days before the 1st of July wild reports of their 
 approach were carried down the valley by galloping horsemen. 
 These reports were followed by others even more dreadful. 
 Nine men at work in a field had been murdered. Two forts 
 near the upper end of the valley had been captured and burnt. 
 Colonel Zebulon Butler at once toiled day and night to collect 
 
338 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a force of settlers to resist the enemy. The country was 
 already drained of its men to fill the ragged, but heroic, ranks 
 of the American army. Still, from far and near, they came, 
 with their fire-locks and ammunition, until about three hundred 
 men assembled in Fort Forty. 
 
 The name of this fort is a history in itself. At one time, 
 in the earlier border wars, it had been defended by forty men 
 against fearful odds. Hence its name. The enemy took posses 
 sion of Fort Wintermoot, farther up the valley. The impatient 
 and undisciplined militia-men, roused by the unusual occasion to 
 a fever of martial excitement, demanded that they advance to 
 attack the foe. Of course, the attempt at a surprise failed. The 
 whites, under Colonel John Butler, fought the settlers from the 
 front. In this engagement the militia gained a slight advantage. 
 They were pressing forward to pursue it. 
 
 Suddenly a terrific yell from hundreds of savage throats, just 
 in their rear, thrilled every patriot with horror. The Indians, 
 under their leader, for a long time supposed to have been Brant 
 himself, had passed around to the rear of the Americans. The 
 latter fought with boldness. But it was useless. They were 
 being crushed between the two forces. Besides this, some one 
 blundered. The drummer beat a retreat when the order was 
 an advance. They broke and ran ran for life. The Indians 
 leaped after them, flinging down their rifles, and using only the 
 tomahawk. They pursued every straggling runner. Only sixty 
 out of the noble three hundred escaped unhurt. Some of 
 these did so by swimming the river, others by fleeing to the 
 mountains. 
 
 This was not a battle. History calls it a MASSACRE. An 
 eye-witness, an Englishman, slightly changes these figures. He 
 says there were three hundred and forty Americans, arid that 
 forty only escaped. The other statement was frightful enough. 
 But for this latter unquestionable testimony, the former report 
 would have been regarded as an exaggeration. 
 
 As the news of the defeat was carried down the valley by 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 339 
 
 the hunted fugitives, the women and children fled panic-stricken 
 into the wilderness. Colonel Zebulon Butler managed to make 
 a stand in Fort Wyoming, where large numbers of settlers were 
 huddled together. Concerning what followed, there is a bitter 
 historical dispute. The earliest writers relate the following : 
 On the morning of July 4th, the invaders demanded surrender 
 of the fort. A parley was proposed. A large body of Ameri 
 cans marched to the appointed place. Instead of the truce 
 being respected, the Indians suddenly sprang, howling, upon 
 them from the shadowy recesses in the forest, and commenced 
 a second and more horrible massacre, slaughtering nearly all in 
 cold blood. "A remnant only regained the fort. A demand 
 was sent in for surrender, accompanied by one hundred and 
 ninety-six bloody scalps, taken from those who had just been 
 slain. When the best terms were asked, the infamous Butler 
 replied, the hatchet! 1 It will be observed that the hostile 
 commanders bore the same name. They were cousins and 
 old friends. 
 
 Some of the occupants of the fort, including Colonel Zebulon 
 Butler, managed to escape to the wilderness. The rest, with 
 those who were found in the settlement men, women, and 
 children were locked up in the houses, which were set on 
 fire, and "the whole consumed together." This was not all. 
 Another fort was near by with seventy soldiers. They sur 
 rendered, under solemn promises that their lives would be spared. 
 They were butchered to a man. Some details have been handed 
 down to us. " One of the prisoners, a Captain Badloek, was 
 committed to torture, by having his body stuck full of splinters 
 S? ^iiie knoco, and a fire of dry wood made around him, when 
 his two companions, Captains Rauson and Durkee were thrown 
 into the same fire and held down with pitchforks until con 
 sumed. One Partial Terry, the son of a man of respectable 
 character, having joined the Indian cause, with his own hands, 
 murdered his father, mother, brothers, and sisters, stripped off 
 their scalps, and cut off his father's head ! " 
 
340 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 These were the earliest reports of the Wyoming tragedy. 
 Later and more critical authorities deny them. It is creditable 
 to human nature to disbelieve them. Whether the particular 
 incidents recorded took place or not is of no importance. All 
 agree that a Reign of Terror was inaugurated in the peaceful 
 valley. At the best, history is only approximately true. 
 Froude, Gibbon, Macaulay, Bancroft, have alike drawn on their 
 imagination for details. The outline of history only is correct. 
 The "historical imagination" is what makes history readable. 
 It furnishes one a picture of the past. 
 
 Whether the particular details are true is immaterial. The 
 scene, as a whole, may be true, nevertheless. Who doubts that 
 one of Dickens's novels presents us with a better view of English 
 life and manners than any history can do ? Yet the whole book 
 is a tissue of fiction. The truth or falsity of history is not 
 to be determined merely by the pictorial and graphic details, 
 which give life and animation to the scene. The real test is, 
 whether the general outline, the perspective, the tone, propor 
 tion, and coloring is true to the original. Any thing else is 
 impossible. No two witnesses will ever agree as to the exact 
 details of a street brawl. Yet a hundred will substantiate each 
 other as to the general and obvious facts. 
 
 One of the disputes over the Wyoming tragedy was, the 
 leadership of the Indians. Early reports charged it to Brant. 
 The poet Campbell, acting on this authority, gave him an immor 
 tality of shame in his "Gertrude of Wyoming." In his later 
 years, however, Brant's son went to England and charged the 
 poet with traducing his father. Indeed, the proofs strongly 
 indicate that Brant was not present at the inva? ; < rT7 -omin<r 
 
 If Brant was not at Wyoming, there were enough raids, 
 burnings, ambushes, fights, and massacres which did take 
 place during this summer under his leadership. One incident 
 must suffice. German Flatts was the very flower of the Mohawk 
 valley. A settlement of some sixty-five houses, was distributed 
 equally on either side of the river. On one side stood the mas- 
 
JOSEPH BE ANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 341 
 
 sive stone residence of the Herkimer family, used as a fort. 
 One evening, half an hour before sunset, a scout brought word 
 that Brant and several hundred warriors was on his way to 
 this settlement. There had been four in the scout's party. The 
 other three were killed. As the great and solemn sunset flung 
 its dying splendors across the evening sky, there was alarm and 
 terror in every household, for ten miles along the valley. The 
 poor people piled their most valuable furniture into canoes, and 
 hurriedly made their way to Fort Herkimer, and Fort Dayton, 
 on the. opposite side of the river. All night the fugitives con 
 tinued to arrive. Their houses and flocks had been abandoned. 
 A heavy rainstorm occurred after midnight, adding to the mis 
 ery of the unhappy people, who were dragging their things up 
 the river bank to the forts. 
 
 Brant arrived, and halted in a neighboring ravine, little sus 
 pecting that his approach was known. Anxious eyes kept 
 watch from the fort. At the first flush of dawn, the Indians 
 could be seen swarming through the settlement. The black 
 smoke and flames from the incendiary torch rolled up at nearly 
 the same moment from every house in the place. The Indians 
 waited, in the morning air, with drawn tomahawks, impatient 
 for the roasting inmates to rush forth. But they were disap 
 pointed. Not a scalp graced their victory. The unhappy set 
 tlers were forced to see every house and barn, one hundred and 
 twenty in number, with the . contents, and five mills burnt, and 
 nearly a thousand head of live stock driven away. 
 
 Linked by a common fate with the melancholy Wyoming, 
 is Cherry Valley. On the 10th of November, 1778, Brant and 
 w ;*.lLcr N. Butler appeared suddenly before the place. No 
 alarm had reached the settlement. For this there was a reason. 
 All the scouts had been taken prisoners. The settlers were 
 sleeping quietly in their houses. Even the officers of the fort 
 were staying at the houses of the neighbors. 
 
 Just before daybreak the savages, a name which belongs 
 equally to the Tory rangers and to Brant's Indians, dashed into- 
 
342 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the settlement. The house of Mr. Wells was first surrounded. 
 The family was awakened by the bursting in of the door. Mr. 
 Wells, his mother, his wife, three sons, and a daughter, were 
 butchered in their beds. His sister Jane, a lovely girl, man 
 aged to get out of the house. She sought refuge in a wood 
 pile, but was killed in the act of reaching it. The guards in the 
 house were either killed or taken. Here too, was Captain Alden, 
 commandant of the fort. He fled down the hill, pursued by an 
 Indian. Refusing to stop, the savage hurled his tomahawk, with 
 fatal accuracy. This was but a specimen of the horrid scenes. 
 
 Every house in the settlement was burnt. Thirty-two 
 inhabitants, largely women and children, were slain, besides 
 sixteen soldiers. In addition to this, some forty persons were 
 taken prisoners. Most of the women and children were set 
 free, but- the rest were taken to Niagara. 
 
 For the atrocities at Cherry Valley, Brant's biographer 
 claims, with much plausibility, that he was not responsible, 
 that Walter N. Butler had entire command of the expedition. 
 Indeed, there are many authentic instances where Brant inter 
 posed to save women and children from outrage. In this 
 regard he differed from nearly all of the great Indian chiefs. 
 He was always sensitive to any charge of cruelty. 
 
 There were other raids by Brant during this season. But 
 they hardly deserve mention. Not more than twelve or fifteen 
 firesides were desolated by each attack. What place can such 
 small massacres find in history ? One with fifty victims will do, 
 but five hundred is better. 
 
 The whites managed to extract some sport out of affairs 
 themselves. About this time the Onondagas were suspected by 
 the Americans of infidelity. An expedition, under Colonel Van 
 Schaick, fell upon their principal village, the capital of the con 
 federacy, destroying it and numbers of the inhabitants. The 
 immemorial council-fire was extinguished. The faithful Onei- 
 das trembled in their moccasins at the fearful vengeance 
 wreaked Upon their neighbors. They at once sent an embassy 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 345 
 
 to ask what it meant. " Was it done by mistake or design," 
 they asked. " If our brethren, the Americans, mean to destroy 
 us also, we will not fly- we will wait here and receive our 
 death." " They were cut off by design. I was ordered to do 
 it it is done," was the reply. For the injury the Onondagas took 
 ample revenge. Three hundred of their warriors fell upon, the set 
 tlement of Schoharie, and destroyed it. 
 
 Another of Brant's exploits was the destruction of Mini- 
 sink. In the massacre large numbers of whites suffered death. 
 One man, Major Wood, was about to be killed when, either by 
 accident or design, he made a Masonic signal, though he did 
 not belong to the order. Brant was an enthusiastic Freemason, 
 and at once rescued him. When the Indian leader found out 
 the deception, he boiled over with rage, cursing the man terri 
 bly, but yet sparing his life. 
 
 In the summer of; 1779, the colonies resolved on a united 
 effort to crush the power of the Six Nations by an invasion of 
 their country. The army for that purpose was strong and well 
 equipped. Brant, on the other hand, rallied all his forces for 
 the defense of his country. The battle took place on the site 
 of the present city of Elmira, New York. It raged all day. 
 The Americans gradually forced the enemy back. So many 
 Indians were killed, that " the sides of the rocks next the river 
 appeared as though blood had been poured on them by pailfuls." 
 
 All was lost. The Indian warriors fled, taking women and 
 children with them, and leaving their smiling country, with its 
 populous and regularly laid out villages, its vast acreage of 
 waving grain, its numerous orchards, in which the ruddy fruit 
 was -already peeping from among the clustering leaves, open to 
 the destroyers' advance. Town after town was laid in ashes. 
 Of Kanadaseagea, the capital of the Senecas, not one wigwam 
 was left standing. Genesee, the principal western town, con 
 taining all the winter stores of the confederacy, was completely 
 obliterated. The fields of grain were burnt. The very gardens 
 were uprooted, and the harmless apple trees hewn down. 
 
346 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Yet the wrath of the invaders wreaked itself alone upon 
 these inanimate objects. The Indians fled at their approach, 
 leaving their villages silent and deserted. Fires were still 
 burning in the wigwams. Iron pots, with their noonday meal, 
 were still simmering away over the coals. The rude cradle was 
 still warm from the babe which had lain there. But no human 
 being could be found. The hand which built the fire was 
 invisible. The cook who had prepared the pot of broth was 
 nowhere to be seen. The mother of the babe was out of sight. 
 All were gone. The women and children were sent to Niagara. 
 The warriors remained lurking in the forest, insane with wrath 
 at the destruction of their lovely country, sometimes venting 
 their rage in nameless tortures upon unfortunate stragglers 
 whom they captured, but otherwise offering no resistance to the 
 invaders. 
 
 The flight of the Iroquois on this occasion reminds one of 
 the flight of the Russians on Napoleon's march to Moscow. 
 But in one regard it is different. Napoleon found himself in a 
 frozen wilderness. These invaders found themselves in a bloom 
 ing garden. A soldier took the trouble to measure an ear of 
 corn which he plucked from the rustling stalk. He found jt to 
 be twenty-two inches long. Another soldier made a rough 
 count of the number of apple trees in a single orchard which 
 was on the point of destruction. He estimated that there were 
 fifteen hundred bearing trees. This was not unusually large. 
 Of the number of orchards, the men said they were " innumer 
 able." This, probably, included those of peach and pear trees. 
 They were the product of the toil and care of countless genera 
 tions of Iroquois. "A wigwam can be rebuilt in two or three 
 days,"the Indians sadly said; "but a tree takes many years to 
 grow again." 
 
 Their sorrows became the source of dissension. There arose 
 a peace party. Among the Senecas was a young orator named 
 Red Jacket. He had the gift of eloquence. He became the 
 leader of the peace party. He spoke with thrilling earnestness 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 347 
 
 of the folly of a war which was driving them forever from the 
 lovely valley which they had inherited from their fathers; a 
 war, too, in which they fought, not for themselves, but for the 
 English. " What have the English done for us," he exclaimed, 
 drawing his proud form to its fullest height, and pointing with 
 the zeal of despair toward the winding Mohawk, " that we should 
 become homeless and helpless wanderers for their sakes?" His 
 burning words sank deep into the hearts of his passionate 
 hearers. It was secretly resolved by his party to send a 
 runner to the American army, and ask them to oifer peace on 
 any terms. 
 
 Brant was the leader of the war party. All his tremendous 
 prejudices and masterful abilities were enlisted in behalf of 
 England. He hated the young and eloquent Red Jacket. 
 Moreover, Brant was no orator. He could not contend with 
 his gifted rival in mere words. He was rather a man of 
 action, a Cromwell of great executive ability and possessing a 
 will of iron. He heard of the plot to make peace. He kept 
 his own council. The runner left the camp. Two confidential 
 warriors were summoned by Brant. In a few stern words he 
 explained to them that the American flag of truce must never 
 reach the Indian camp. Its bearers must be murdered on the 
 way, yet with such secrecy that their fate should not be 
 known. The expectant peace party, waiting for the message in 
 vain, were to believe that the Americans had scornfully refused 
 to hear their prayer for peace. The plot was carried out. The 
 man of words was vanquished. The man of deeds triumphed. 
 The flag of truce never arrived. 
 
 General Sullivan had now destroyed the home of the proud 
 Iroquois, and driven their families abroad to strange and inhospit 
 able regions. More than forty populous towns had been literally 
 blotted out from the map of the country. The landscape was no 
 longer variegated with fields of golden grain, with burdened 
 orchards, staggering beneath their tinted fruitage, with verdant 
 pastures, dotted over with sleek and peaceful herds, nor with 
 
 19 
 
348 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 waving forests of ancient trees, whose emerald foliage formed 
 such a rich contrast with the sunny sky and the winding river. 
 As far as the eye could stretch, the prospect presented a sin 
 gle ominous color. That color was black. It was a landscape 
 of charcoal! The American general was happy. 
 
 Instead of pressing on to Niagara, and destroying the mili 
 tary head-quarters of the north-west, he turned about. Only 
 one ambition remained unfulfilled. He had no captives. Casting 
 about in his mind, he remembered a few families of the Lower 
 clan of the Mohawks, who, as will be recollected, had refused 
 to follow Brant. They had remained peacefully at home in their 
 wigwams and fields. They were neutral. They expected no 
 danger. As General Sullivan thought of them his eye bright 
 ened. He would add the missing plume to his hat. He would 
 take these Mohawks prisoners. Happy thought! Brilliant 
 idea! It was carried into execution. The peaceful tillers of 
 the soil were rudely torn from their homes. It is hardly neces 
 sary to add that they were soon released, by order of Sullivan's 
 superiors. The general himself soon found it convenient to 
 resign on account of ill-health. 
 
 The winter of 1779-80, was one of unprecedented rigor. 
 The shivering Iroquois, at Niagara, suffered severely. But the 
 fire of hate burnt in the heart of Brant as hot as ever. Long 
 had he been meditating a terrible revenge upon the Oneidas, 
 who had refused to follow his leadership, but had persisted in 
 neutrality. Upon them he laid the blame of all his disasters. 
 That winter he led his warriors across frozen rivers, and through 
 snowy forests, to the home of the unsuspecting Oneidas. Of 
 what followed we have no detailed history. The Oneidas had 
 no historian. Their sufferings have passed, like the sufferers 
 themselves, into the unremembered past. It is only known 
 that Brant fell upon them without mercy, that their villages 
 and wigwams, their storehouses, and castles, were suddenly 
 destroyed, that vast numbers of them were slain, and that the 
 survivors fled to the white men for protection. 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 349 
 
 The poor refugees, stricken for a fault which was not their 
 own, were allotted rude and comfortless quarters near Schenec- 
 tady, where they were supported by the government till the 
 close of the war. Their misfortunes did not end with their dis 
 persion. Driven from their homes, reduced to want, depend 
 ence, and abject poverty, they lapsed from their regular and 
 industrious habits. They became intemperate and idle. Of the 
 proud and loyal Oneidas,, a few lazy drunkards came in time to 
 be the only representatives. 
 
 In pursuing Brant's larger enterprises we omit wild fields of 
 incident and individual adventure. One brave man, Solomon 
 Woodworth, lived all alone, in a block-house, eight miles from 
 Johnstown. He was repeatedly attacked in his lonely stronghold, 
 and managed not only to repulse such small bands as came that 
 way, but on one occasion, at least, pursued the Indians, and 
 killed several. Another dramatic incident was the burning of 
 Ellis's mills. They were located at the wild waterfall, where 
 the foaming Mohawk plunges through a rocky gorge into the 
 lower valley. Since the burning of the mills at Fort Herki- 
 mer, these w r ere resorted to by the settlers from miles around, 
 with their bags of grain carried on horseback. The mill was 
 garrisoned by twelve men. The Indians attacked it at dead 
 of night. The building was in flames before its defenders 
 knew their danger. A brief and hopeless resistance was made, 
 and then every man sought safety by flight. Six or seven 
 were quickly captured. 
 
 Two of the men plunged into the race above the mill, leav 
 ing only their faces above water, and hoping to escape dis 
 covery in the darkness. Before long, however, the red tongues 
 of flame were thrust out through the windows. The glare 
 became brighter and brighter. Glowing seams appeared between 
 the logs, through which shone the fierce fires within the doomed 
 building. The roar grew louder and louder. The yells of the 
 shrieking savages mingled with the crackling of the flames. 
 Snatching brands in their hands, they ran up and down the 
 
350 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 shore, eagerly watching for lurking whites. At last, the roof 
 tree fell in with an infernal crash. Millions of sparks flitted 
 upward, followed by dense volumes of smoke. The surround 
 ings grew darker for a moment. But suddenly the pall lifted. 
 Mighty billows of seething fire burst upwards into the heavens, 
 as if furious at their confinement. In a moment the race became 
 as light as day. The poor fellows were discovered, and put 
 to death. 
 
 Two others, Cox and Skinner, had sought a more dangerous 
 and yet a safer hiding place. They were under the great water 
 wheel, nearly choked with the dashing spray. The great embers 
 from the conflagration above them dropped down, but were 
 knocked off by the revolving water wheel. The savages sought 
 for them in vain. When at last the mill was a smoking ruin, 
 the Indians rode away with hideous yells. Then the poor fel 
 lows came out. They were severely burnt where coals had 
 fallen on them. But they were safe. 
 
 From the beginning of 1780 the sufferings of the settlers 
 of the lower Mohawk Valley steadily increased. It will be 
 remembered that at the time of Sir John Johnson's hasty flight 
 to Canada, he had secretly buried his papers and treasure. His 
 estates were confiscated*, and his splendid mansion passed into 
 the possession of another. One morning, a year or so previous 
 to the time of which we are writing, the owner was disturbed 
 to find a hole dug in his garden walk, the marks of many foot 
 prints, and a number of papers scattered through the garden. 
 A small band of Johnson's followers had recovered his chest of 
 papers. 
 
 In the spring of '80, Sir John, incredible as it seems, made 
 his way with five hundred men from Montreal to Johnstown, 
 without his approach being discovered. His avowed object was 
 the recovery of his treasure, which was still buried in the cellar. 
 This expedition was one of the most impudent as well as brutal 
 occurrences of the war. Entering Johnstown at dead of night, 
 the ruffians proceeded to murder large numbers of the old 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 351 
 
 acquaintances, neighbors, and friends of Sir John, and apply 
 the torch to their homes. The treasure was recovered, the out 
 rages consummated, and the strangers coolly made their retreat 
 without a straw of opposition from the terrified people. On 
 this occasion Jacob and Frederick Sammons were taken prison 
 ers, of whose adventures more hereafter. 
 
 On the 2d of August harvesters in the fields around Johns 
 town noticed dark columns of smoke from the direction of 
 Canajoharie. A company was at once collected to march to 
 the relief of the settlers, who were undoubtedly attacked by 
 Indians. The place had, for defense, a block-house, called 
 Fort Plain, but on this occasion the fort was without a garrison. 
 
 For some time the valley had been filled with rumors to the 
 effect that Brant intended to attack a convoy of boats, carry 
 ing supplies to Fort Schuyler. To prevent this the militia from 
 the lower part of the valley were withdrawn and dispatched up 
 the river. As soon as this was done, the wily Brant led his 
 warriors by swift marches to Canajoharie, which, in common 
 with the rest, had let her garrison go up the river. The scenes 
 of slaughter and destruction which took place on this raid of 
 Brant's were almost a duplicate, though, perhaps, covering a 
 smaller territory, of those which had marked General Sullivan's 
 great invasion of the Indian country during the previous year. 
 In one regard it was much worse. The settlers were taken by 
 surprise and had no time for flight. Great numbers of them 
 were killed, and immensely more taken prisoner. 
 
 But still Brant's appetite for vengeance was unabated. 
 Again he raised a force for a third .invasion of the Mohawk 
 Valley within a year. It was not enough to have equaled the 
 work of Sullivan. It must be surpassed. To this end he and 
 Sir John Johnson united their savages. To be sure, Johnson's 
 men were white. History's verdict is that they were more sav 
 age and brutal and cruel in their warfare than the wild chil 
 dren of the forest by whose side they fought. The summer 
 had brought a rich harvest to the glad settlers. When the 
 
352 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 season of the sere and yellow leaf approached it found grana 
 ries almost bursting with their golden treasures, and barns 
 stuffed to the rafters with the sweetest hay and oats. 
 
 On the morning of October 16, 1780, the occupants of the 
 little mud fort at Middleburg, far down the Mohawk Valley r 
 and the settlers of the lovely region looked out at sunrise on a 
 startling sight. In every direction barns, hay-stacks, granaries, 
 and many houses were on fire. The product of the summer's 
 toil was mounting to the skies in chariots of flame. Everywhere 
 the people fled, abandoning all their effects, in the madness of 
 fear. Their alarm was justifiable. Brant's army of fifteen 
 hundred warriors and Tories was upon them without a single 
 note of warning. At first, the enemy mounted their little can 
 non, and prepared to besiege the fort. But the little mud 
 redoubt held plucky men. 
 
 Finding that the siege would delay them, Brant, a true mas 
 ter of guerrilla warfare, gave up the notion of taking the fort, 
 and swept on down the valley with his terrible band of destroy 
 ers. In their course the whole valley was laid in ruins. Houses 
 and barns were burned, the horses and cattle killed or taken r 
 and those of the inhabitants who were not safely within the 
 walls of their little fortifications were either killed or taken 
 captive. The very churches were fired. 
 
 But the torch of war was not applied to the property of 
 Tories. Wherever lived a loyalist to England, the horde of 
 destroyers stayed its ruthless hands. They passed by, leaving 
 the property untouched. Then one of the strange sides of human 
 nature displayed itself. The settlers, furious at their own wrongs, 
 and aflame with passion at the sight of their disloyal neighbors' 
 immunity from harm, issued from the forts, and, with their own 
 hands, completed the desolation of the valley, destroying every 
 bit of Tory property. 
 
 As the invading army hurried on, transforming, with its 
 breath of flame, the verdant valley into a mighty cinder, many 
 a cabin became the scene of a tragedy, more thrilling than those 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHA WKS. 353 
 
 performed behind the flashing footlights of any theater. The 
 humble pioneers and their clinging families were enrolled in the 
 terrible dramatis personce. 
 
 John Vraoman was on a scout some miles from his home. 
 An Indian jumped out of a bush. Vraoman killed him. A 
 second Indian bounded forward, his long and sinewy fingers 
 reaching to clutch the white man's throat, but a lightning blow 
 with the clubbed musket stretched the savage senseless on the 
 sod. At that moment a swarm of savages started up in the 
 forest. Vraoman fled. By great skill and marvelous endurance 
 he eluded his pursuers. After hours of strenuous exertion, he 
 neared his cabin. His heart leaped for joy at the thought that 
 his wife and children were saved from the lonely, unprotected, 
 and poverty-stricken life of the widow and the fatherless. Near- 
 ing the spot, he caught a smell of burning. His tired steps 
 were quickened with anxiety. Too late ! The cabin was a 
 heap of glowing coals, the wife and children captives. He suf 
 fered -but a few days of anguish. Brant sent back the captives, 
 with a note on birch bark, giving them sweet liberty. 
 
 A farmer was unloading a wagon of corn at his granary. 
 Hearing a shriek from the house, he looked about to find a 
 swarm of Indians and Tories surrounding it on all sides. "The 
 enemy, my boys !" shouted the father, but, as he leaped down 
 from the wagon, a rifle ball pierced his patriotic breast. The 
 shriek came from his wife, who was tomahawked. Her five-year 
 old boy ran screaming to his fallen mother, his childish heart 
 bursting with the frantic agony of sorrow. He knelt down in the 
 crimson pool about the form he loved so well. In a moment a 
 tomakawk ended his grief and life together. 
 
 An aged man in the fort at Middleburg owned a mill two 
 miles away. His son had passed the night there alone. At 
 the first discovery of the Indians, the white-haired father, know 
 ing they would speedily attack the mill, started, regardless of 
 earnest remonstrances on account of the danger of the attempt, 
 to warn his son of his peril. He hoped to reach the mill before 
 
354 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the savages, and succeeded. The father and son then hurried 
 back to the fort, to find it already attacked. By a bold move 
 they managed to get inside of the sheltering redoubt. Of the 
 havoc wrought by Brant, one instance was the suffering of the 
 large and prominent Vrooman family, three of whom were 
 killed and nine carried captive to Canada. 
 
 These incidents are but a few drops from the bloody deluge. 
 The invaders divided into two parties. One marched down one 
 side of the Mohawk. The other division kept pace on the 
 opposite side. In this way the country was laid waste in every 
 direction. The goal of the expedition was Schenectady. It 
 was never reached. Flying horsemen had long since carried 
 the news of the invasion to Albany. Too much time had been 
 taken up in the advance. General Van Rensselaer, with a 
 strong army, was on the way to meet the enemy. Brant and 
 Johnson began a retreat. It was too late. A heavy battle was 
 fought. At sunset the advantage was with the Americans, but 
 they failed to push it, and fell back to encamp. That night 
 the enemy fled, without the rustle of a leaf or the rattle of 
 a bayonet. 
 
 Some funny things occur in a forced retreat. Nine Tories 
 were hurrying through the forest, each trying to outdo the 
 other in the speed of retreat. Suddenly a stern voice cried out 
 in the darkness, " Lay down your arms." They obeyed with 
 precipitation, and were made prisoners. They could not see 
 their hand before them. Of the number of their captors they 
 had no idea. Every Tory was securely pinioned and led away. 
 In the morning they found themselves in a little block-house. 
 Their captors were seven militia-men. The nine had surren 
 dered to the seven ! 
 
 An incident of the invasion is worth relating. The Senecas 
 were led by a half-Indian named Corn Planter. His father 
 was a white trader, who had, many years before, on one of 
 his trips, been enamored of a pretty Seneca maiden. Corn 
 Planter became one of the living evidences of his affection. 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 355 
 
 The son was not ignorant of his father's name and whereabouts. 
 With a dozen trusty followers/ he sought the old man's cabin, 
 where he lived in peace with his family, and took him prisoner. 
 After proceeding a few miles the proud Seneca stepped up, and 
 said : " I am your son. You are my father. I am a warrior. 
 Many scalps have I taken. Many a captive have I tortured. 
 Yet you have nothing to fear. If you will come with me to 
 the distant lodges of my people, I will cherish you in your old 
 age, and give you plenty of venison. If you scorn the simple 
 life of the children of the forest, and prefer to return to the 
 arms of your pale-face squaw and the caresses of your pale-face 
 ohildren, my brothers, it is well. You are free to choose." 
 
 It may be imagined that the old man, who was or wished to 
 be ignorant of his near relationship to the stalwart savage, 
 ohose pretty quickly, and scampered off home as fast as he 
 could. The young chief bowed to his wishes, and sorrowfully 
 turned to hide himself in. the forest. 
 
 The common name of John Shell, a Dutch settler who lived 
 with his family in a lonely block-house four miles from Fort 
 Herkimer, has been embalmed in an incident which comes down 
 to us. A band of sixty or seventy Mohawks suddenly sur 
 rounded the little fortress one day, and laid siege. Mrs. Shell 
 loaded the rifles, while her husband and sons fired them. The 
 attack lasted from two o'clock until sunset. McDonald, the 
 leader of the enemy, made repeated efforts to break in the door 
 of the structure. He was in the act of using a heavy iron 
 crowbar when he received a shot in his leg. He fell. None of 
 his men were just at hand. The bold Dutchman, Shell, flung 
 open the door and dragged him in a prisoner. The cartridges 
 found on him were greedily seized by the defenders, whose 
 stock of ammunition was dangerously low. 
 
 Enraged at the capture of their leader, the enemy made a 
 furious assault. Five guns were stuck through the port-holes. 
 Quick as flash, Mrs. Shell seized an ax and ruined every gun 
 by bending the barrels. As the Indians fell back, Shell ran up 
 
356 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 to the second story and calling out to his wife told her Captain 
 Small was at hand from Fort Dayton with re-enforcements. 
 Then, in a loud voice, he shouted to the imaginary Small to 
 
 march his men 
 around by the 
 left side. It 
 was a ruse, and 
 it succeeded. 
 The Indians 
 fled, supposing 
 that a heavy 
 force was at 
 hand. Shell 
 hastily collected 
 his family, and 
 placing such 
 food as they 
 had, within 
 reach of their 
 wounded pris 
 oner, set out for 
 Fort Dayton, 
 leaving McDon 
 ald in solitary 
 possession of 
 
 the block-house. He was removed the following day, but died 
 from an unskillful amputation. 
 
 The war of the American Revolution at last came to an end. 
 For Brant's wonderful raids there was no longer opportunity. 
 He received from the British government for his tribe a new 
 home on the Grand River, Canada. Here he devoted himself 
 to the work of civilizing and improving his people. He made 
 another trip to England, being received with more splendor and 
 ceremony than before. This was in consideration of his emi 
 nent services in the Mohawk valley. 
 
 JOSEPH BRANT. 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 357 
 
 During the Indian wars of the west, his prejudices were all 
 against the United States, though he never actually took the 
 field. He translated a number of devotional books into English, 
 and sought to induce his people to give up the uncertainties and 
 demoralizations of the chase and substitute agriculture. His own 
 opinion, as expressed at a dinner party given him by the dis 
 tinguished Aaron Burr, was that the civilization of the Indians 
 must take place through their intermarriage and mingling of 
 blood with the whites. His correspondence, of which much is 
 yet extant, reveals a rugged and powerful intellect, on which 
 his associations with white men had exerted a marked influ 
 ence. He encouraged missionaries to come among his people, 
 and renewed his Christian professions, which had, perhaps, been 
 suspended or eclipsed while he was hurling his warriors like 
 destroying lightnings upon the defenseless inhabitants of the 
 Mohawk valley. His letters reveal a proud, sensitive spirit, 
 jealous of its dignity, and which could not brook the slightest 
 imputation of dishonor. Nothing escaped the attention of his 
 eminently diplomatic mind, whether it transpired in the cabinets 
 of ministers or around the council fires of the distant tribes of 
 western Indians. He erected for himself a fine mansion on the 
 western shore of Lake Ontario, where he lived in unprecedented 
 splendor. Here he held his barbaric court, " with a retinue of 
 thirty negro servants, and surrounded by gay soldiers, cavaliers 
 in powdered wigs and scarlet coats, and all the motley assem 
 blage of that picturesque era." 
 
 Two or three times Brant condescended to visit the eastern 
 cities, receiving every attention from the great men of the day. 
 That "uneasy lies the head which wears a crown" was freshly 
 demonstrated by his career. On one of his trips east, he was 
 followed by an assassin, a Dutchman, from the Mohawk valley, 
 whose entire family had been murdered by Brant's warriors. 
 The man shadowed him day and night, seeking a convenient 
 opportunity to kill him. Brant knew his danger, and took un 
 usual precautions. One day the assassin had well-nigh accoin- 
 
358 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 plished his purpose. Brant had taken a room in a New York 
 hotel, which fronted on Broadway. Looking out of the win 
 dow, he saw his enemy on the opposite side of the street, 
 aiming a gun at him. The alarm was given, and the Dutch 
 man taken care of. 
 
 On the way home, after this or a similar trip, Brant wanted 
 to go by way of the Mohawk valley, a region so dear to him by 
 reason of its associations, older than the dreadful scenes of the 
 war. There as a boy he had been employed at the baronial hall 
 of his friend and patron, Sir William Johnson. There, too, his 
 people had from time immemorial lived, and loved, and died. 
 But the people of the valley confronted this sentiment of Brant 
 with a widely different one. If any man was ever hated with 
 all the abhorrence of which human nature is capable, such was 
 the feeling with which Brant was regarded throughout the 
 length and breadth of the Mohawk valley. When word came 
 that the monster was to pass through the country, the settlers 
 prepared, with exultant curses, to kill him. A rumor of the 
 danger reached Brant in time for him to change his route and 
 escape secretly by another way. 
 
 Brant's ascendancy among the Iroquois was not maintained 
 without some heart-burnings. His old enemy, Red Jacket, 
 gathered a number of malcontents around his standard, and at 
 a pretended meeting of, the sachems of the confederacy, during 
 Brant's absence, he was impeached and formally deposed from 
 the head chieftancy of the Six Nations. When the old warrior 
 returned he confronted his enemies in public council, boldly 
 defied and denied their calumnies and charges, and demanded a 
 fair hearing before his people. For reasons which Americans 
 of the present generation will readily understand, the military 
 fame and prestige of the great war chief overcame even the 
 burning invectives of Red Jacket, and Brant triumphed over all 
 opposition. 
 
 One unfortunate affair made a terrible impression on his 
 mind, and he was never really himself again. One of his sons 
 
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE MOHAWKS. 
 
 was in the habit of getting drunk. While on one of his sprees 
 he entered his father's room and commenced a storm of cursing 
 and abuse. The exact circumstances are unknown, but Brant, 
 in a sudden heat, stabbed his son, from the effects of which he 
 died. The old man never ceased to lament the deed, and it is 
 said would lie awake at night and cry by the hour. 
 
 On November 24, 1807, as the shrill winds of winter 
 began to whistle through the forest, and the first light snow 
 spread a delicate mantle over the earth, the old chief looked out 
 upon the whitened landscape for the last time. He had been in 
 ill-health for quite awhile. That day a sudden change for the 
 worse took place. After several hours of suffering, Thayen- 
 danegea, Joseph Brant, turned his face to the wall, and died. 
 Among his latest words were those to his adopted nephew, in 
 which he uttered the burden of his heart. "Have pity on the 
 poor Indian; if you can get any influence with the great, 
 endeavor to do them all the good you can." 
 
 In 1876, William Cullen Bryant, the poet, whose lyre i& 
 now attuned to celestial harmonies, visited the old house of 
 Brant. His description will form a pleasant conclusion to our 
 story. 
 
 " To visit this quaint old mansion and find it untenanted for 
 the moment, as chanced to the writer one sunny day last June, 
 is like stepping backward from the nineteenth century into the 
 last quarter of the eighteenth. You enter a spacious hall, and 
 turning to the right, find yourself in a large old-fashioned draw 
 ing-room, whose front windows look out upon the blue expanse 
 of Burlington Bay. 
 
 "On the opposite side of the room is a grate, surmounted by 
 an absurdly tall mantel, and flanked on each side by a curious, 
 arched recess. Life-size oil portraits of Brant, in his paint and 
 war-dress ; of John Brant, the ideal of an Indian hero ; of Sir 
 William Johnson and members of his family, in stiff wigs and 
 scarlet coats, richly laced, stare down upon you from the walls. 
 
 " Upon the mantel lies Brant's dagger, which drank the blood 
 
360 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of his ruffianly son Isaac ; carelessly disposed upon a table are 
 a pair of richly ornamented dueling pistols, the gift of the Duke 
 of Northumberland ; there lies his tomahawk, yonder hangs the 
 queer conch-shell medal, which he wore, and in the corner is 
 flung his small sword, its ivory handle studded with gems, a tes 
 timonial from his sacred majesty, George the Third, to his gal 
 lant and faithful ally. So carelessly are these and other relics 
 strewn about the room as to lend encouragement to the fancy 
 that the old chief had hurriedly thrown them down, expecting 
 momentarily to return and claim them. A dreamy atmosphere 
 pervades the apartment, disposing the mind to reverie and ren 
 dering it hospitable to visions of the past. 
 
 " The writer, on the occasion mentioned, instinctively cast a 
 look toward the door, expecting to hear the tread of moccasined 
 feet, to catch a glimpse of those swarthy features, and be trans 
 fixed by a glance of the basilisk eyes which are reproduced in 
 the portrait over the mantel. But the spell was broken by the 
 hum of approaching voices, and a peal of childish laughter, pro 
 ceeding from three bright little elves, descendants in the fourth 
 generation from Joseph Brant. 
 
 "I can readily credit the rumor reported to me in good faith 
 by a neighboring farmer, that Brant house is haunted." 
 
THE ESCAPE OF TWO BOYS FROM CHAMBLEE. 
 
 361 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ESCAPE OF TWO BOYS FROM CHAMBLEE. 
 
 HEN Sir John Johnson made his secret and 
 expeditious return to the Mohawk Valley in 
 1780, for the recovery of the treasure which 
 at the time of his flight he had buried in the 
 cellar of Johnson Hall, his followers took cap 
 tive Jacob and Frederick Sammons. They were 
 the sons of an old gentleman who had been 
 occupying the Hall since the confiscation of the 
 baronet's estate by the American Congress. 
 
 The two young men were carried prisoners to the fort at 
 Chamblee, in Canada. This prison was one of the most loath 
 some and awful dungeons from which the light of day was ever 
 shut out. On their arrival Jacob Sammons took an accurate 
 survey of the garrison and the facilities for escape. He noticed 
 that the guards were few and undisciplined. Once a day the 
 door of the prison was opened for an inspection by the com 
 manding officer. The quick eye of Sammons also detected the 
 fact that the guards stacked their arms in the prison-yard. He 
 at once conceived a bold plan for the escape of the prisoners, 
 of which no less than forty were immured in the awful place. 
 When the door was opened for the inspection, a part of the 
 prisoners were to rush upon and overpower the sentinels, while 
 the -rest were to rush forth and seize the arms there stacked up. 
 But the timid prisoners shrank from the bold undertaking. 
 
 Foiled in this, Jacob Sammons and his brother Frederick 
 studied day and night for some mode of escape for themselves 
 
362 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 alone. Within a few days their ingenuity had devised a plan. 
 The prisoners were allowed a supply of spruce beer. Each day 
 two prisoners, under a guard of five men, with fixed bayonets, 
 went to the brew-house to obtain the keg of beer. Sammons also 
 discovered that the garrison generally carried their arms charged, 
 but not primed. By a shrewd stratagem Jacob and Frederick 
 Sammons contrived one day to be sent together for the beer. 
 Their plan was at a certain point to break boldly from the 
 guards and run for their lives, hoping that the delay occasioned 
 by the lack of priming in the muskets might enable them to 
 escape beyond the reach of gun-shot. 
 
 At the concerted moment the project was boldly executed. 
 The young men dashed across the plain at the top of their 
 speed. The excited garrison at once gave hot pursuit. Jacob 
 had not proceeded far when he stumbled into an open ditch, 
 and was thrown down with terrific violence. His ankle was 
 badly sprained. Frederick turned to the assistance of his 
 brother, but the latter generously commanded him to leave him 
 to his chances and make good his own escape. Jacob managed 
 to crawl, unobserved, from the ditch into a clump of bushes, 
 where he hid himself between two logs. The guards passed him, 
 unnoticed, in their wild pursuit of Frederick. The fleet-footed 
 young Dutchman was, however, soon lost to their sight. In 
 half an hour they returned greatly out of breath and furiously 
 enraged. 
 
 The brothers had arranged, in case of separation, to meet at 
 a certain spot at ten o'clock that night. Under cover of dark 
 ness, Jacob Sammons left- his hiding-place and made his way to 
 the rendezvous. No one was there. He called aloud to his 
 brother Frederick, but only the sighing of the midsummer- 
 night breeze among the branches of the forest answered hi& 
 anxious cries. 
 
 Disheartened at the disappointment, Jacob at once began his 
 journey through the wilderness. On the morning of the 14th 
 of June he was about to swim the Sorel River^ near Fort St. 
 
THE ESCAPE OF TWO BOYS FROM CHAMBLEE. 363 
 
 Johns, and make his way homeward by the shores of Lake 
 Champlain. Just as he entered the water he discovered a boat 
 approaching filled with British soldiers. He concealed himself 
 quickly and eluded their observation. Proceeding two or three 
 miles through the forest he heard a noise from a vast number 
 of woodmen's axes. A party of several hundred men from the 
 fort were felling timber to strengthen its defenses. By a wide 
 detour he succeeded in avoiding these enemies. 
 
 About noon he came upon a small clearing, in the center of 
 which stood a cabin. Near by a man and a boy were in a small 
 field, hoeing potatoes. Sammons, who was famished for want of 
 food, resolved to throw himself upon the mercy of these people. 
 Instead of finding, as he hoped, a friendly Frenchman, the for 
 ester proved to be a malignant Tory, and declared his intention 
 of surrendering Sammons to the soldiers. Sammons replied that 
 it was more than he could do, that all Canada should not take 
 him alive. 
 
 The Tory returned to his potato field, leaving Sammons upon 
 the door-step, where the compassionate wife of the forester gave 
 him a bowl of bread and milk. Hanging on the wall Sammons 
 discovered a musket, powder-horn, and bullet-pouch. If he 
 could possess himself of these he felt that he might make his 
 way home. He traveled into the woods but a little way. At 
 nightfall he returned to the cabin to take the weapon by force. 
 Scarcely had he entered when the noise of voices without caused 
 him to hurry up the ladder into the loft. Here, through the 
 cracks of the floor, he beheld with anxiety, eleven British 
 soldiers buying and drinking milk from the people of the house. 
 His situation was critical. At any moment the proprietor of 
 the house might discover his presence. At last the soldiers 
 were satisfied, and left the place. 
 
 The man and boy went to bed. Jacob stealthily descended 
 from the loft. The good woman supplied him with another 
 bowl of bread and milk. She tried to persuade him to sur 
 render himself to the British. Her arguments failing, she told 
 20 
 
364 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 him that if he would conceal himself in the woods for two days 
 she would procure for him a supply of provisions and a pair of 
 stout shoes. To this dangerous scheme Sammons would by 
 no means consent: He was meanwhile undergoing an inward 
 struggle as to whether he should take the gun and ammuni 
 tion. He reflected that the theft would discover to the good 
 woman's husband the fact that he had returned to the cabin, 
 and perhaps might betray the kindness of the woman. With 
 reluctant heart he resolved to forego this breach of hospitality, 
 and without food, or the means of procuring it, he gallantly bade 
 his benefactress farewell, and plunged into the forest. 
 
 Arriving at the shore of Lake Champlain, he came upon a 
 cabin full of soldiers. A canoe was lying at the water's edge. 
 Waiting till night, when the soldiers were asleep, Sammons 
 boldly jumped into the canoe, and rejoiced at the prospect of 
 an easy journey home, proceeded up the lake. His glad antic 
 ipations were not realized; As he approached the Isle Au Noix, 
 he discovered a fortification. A hundred bayonets glistened in 
 the moonlight. To pass the fort was impossible. He ran 
 his canoe ashore, and footsore and famished, again began his 
 dreary journey through the forest. His only subsistence was 
 birch-bark. 
 
 On the fourth day he succeeded in catching a fish, from a 
 brook, with his hands. Being without means to make a fire, he 
 ate it raw. His feet were cut and bruised, his legs full of 
 thorns. When he fell asleep hungry swarms of mosquitoes 
 feasted upon him. On the fifth day he caught a black duck. 
 Removing the feathers, he at once devoured the whole, not 
 omitting head and feet. He then attempted the eggs which he 
 found under the duck. In the first he found a half-formed 
 duckling. Such food even his appetite would not accept. 
 
 On the tenth day he lay down, unable to proceed farther. 
 Lying there, half stupefied, he felt a sharp pain in his right leg. 
 It was the bite of a rattlesnake. Quick as thought, he cut out 
 the poisoned flesh with his pocket-knife. Next he seized the 
 
THE ESCAPE OF TWO BOYS FROM CHAMSLEE. 365 
 
 serpent, killed it, and made a meal off of the body. Further 
 advance was impossible. Unable to crawl more than a few feet, 
 he lay here for three days, subsisting upon the remains of the 
 serpent. At last, when this resource was gone, his weakness 
 increased hourly. Feeling that death was very near, he crawled 
 to the foot of a tree, and feebly attempted to carve his name 
 upon the bark, hoping that when his bones were found, they 
 might not be unrecognized. 
 
 Strange as it may appear, he felt somewhat stronger the 
 next day. He cut up his hat and waistcoat, and bound them 
 upon his feet. Hobbling along through the day he came upon 
 human habitations. It proved to be the town of Pittsford. Here 
 kind hands bound up his wounds and ministered to his wants. 
 In time he made his way home. 
 
 Not less interesting were the adventures of Frederick Sam- 
 mons. Having escaped the pursuit from the fort at Chamblee, 
 he concealed himself until the hour at which he was to meet his 
 brother at the rendezvous. He arrived at the appointed time, 
 but Jacob, as we have seen, had come and gone. He lingered 
 till toward morning, then crossed the river. He proceeded to 
 a barn, hoping to find some chickens on which to breakfast. 
 No poultry was to be found, but a fine bullock afforded a better 
 prospect. Frederick succeeded in cutting the animal's throat. 
 He then severed one of the hind quarters, shouldered it, and 
 marched off into the forest. Arrived at a safe retreat, he 
 dressed the beef, cut it into strips, and packed it in a knap 
 sack made from the skin. 
 
 Proceeding five or six miles he came across a cabin. Here 
 he attempted to obtain bread, salt, and means for kindling a 
 fire. The latter only could he procure. Again making his way 
 through the woods, he paused to build a fire, dressed and smoked 
 his beef, and cured the knapsack of rawhide. 
 
 On the third day he had the good luck to kill a fawn. 
 Reaching Lake Champlain he found an old canoe. Scarcely 
 had he launched the shell, when it split asunder and he was 
 
366 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 precipitated into the water. He journeyed on by land in good 
 spirits until the dose of the seventh day. 
 
 He had slept but an hour or two when he was attacked by 
 an enemy. The foe could not be seen nor heard, but only felt 
 by Frederick. The same enemy had attacked him before. Poor 
 Sammons recognized him at once. For several years this sleep 
 less foe had followed him day and night, seeking a favorable 
 moment to accomplish his destruction. The name of the enemy 
 was Pleurisy. A drenching rain came on, continuing steadily 
 for three days,, during which time Sammons lay at the foot of 
 a tree without food, fire, or shelter, and racked by the most 
 agonizing pains. 
 
 On the morning of the fourth day the sun rose clear. The 
 sufferer crawled to a stagnant pond near by for a sup of water 
 to quench his feverish thirst. The pool was full of frogs. 
 Some of these he caught. Unable to build a fire he ate them 
 raw. For fourteen days Frederick Sammons lay here unable 
 to proceed. He was on a high bluff, in full view of the lake. 
 Supposing that he would die, he nevertheless hung his hat on 
 a pole as a signal of distress. At last some sailors on a pass 
 ing ship noticed the hat. A boat was sent ashore and Sam 
 mons, living but speechless, was transferred to the vessel. 
 
 After all this suffering Frederick Sammons was again a pris 
 oner of the British ! As soon as he recovered he was returned 
 to Chamblee. Heavy irons were forged about his limbs by 
 blacksmiths. He was not allowed to leave his dungeon for a 
 moment. The irons inflicted wounds upon his limbs, eating 
 their way to the bone; even then an order for the removal of 
 the irons was obtained by the prison surgeon with the greatest 
 difficulty. 
 
 In November of 1781 Sammons was transferred from Cham 
 blee to another hell-hole called Prison Island. Here with nine 
 fellow-prisoners he organized a conspiracy for escape. By this 
 attempt Sammons succeeded in having the irons restored to his 
 limbs. In time, however, the manacles were again removed. 
 
THE ESCAPE OF TWO BOYS FROM CHAMBLEE. 367 
 
 y day, week by week, month by month, Sammons 
 watched with sleepless vigilance for an opportunity for escape. 
 At last it came. On the 17th of August fifty prisoners were 
 allowed to walk to the foot of the island around the shores of 
 which a chain of sentinels was extended. Sammons and a 
 fellow-prisoner, McMullen, watched their chance. The nearest 
 sentinel happened to turn his back. The two prisoners at once 
 leaped down a precipice into the foaming surges of the St. Law 
 rence. The tremendous current bore them swiftly away. Before 
 the sentinel discovered the escape they were beyond reach. 
 Both men were expert swimmers. In their perilous course they 
 descended foaming rapids, one hundred and fifty rods long. Two 
 miles below the island they attempted to land, but the buffeting 
 waves only mocked their mad endeavors and drove them farther 
 from the shore. 
 
 Two miles farther down they succeeded better. A cluster 
 of houses stood near the place of their landing. Arming them 
 selves with clubs, they entered the nearest house. No one was 
 in it except an old lady. She was paralyzed with fright at the 
 wild and savage appearance of the escaping prisoners. The 
 latter ransacked the house for food, fire-arms, and ammunition. 
 The old woman was poor. The plunderers found only one small 
 loaf of bread. This they took, broke in two, and greedily 
 devoured. To them it was but a crumb. The old lady had 
 depended upon it. for a week's subsistence ! Only one other 
 article in the house was worth taking. This was a small, thin 
 blanket. It was the old woman's bed-cover. In the bitter cold 
 of the Canadian winter she had been accustomed to double it 
 and draw herself up, so as to make it cover her shriveled limbs. 
 This, she said, was "quite a luxury." 
 
 As the prisoners started to leave the house they were 
 assaulted by* two Canadians. In criminal courts insanity is a 
 defense. Imprisonment makes men insane. The prisoners beat 
 the two Canadians to the ground with their clubs, and yet were 
 innocent. They made their way to the woods. Amid excessive 
 
368 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 hardships they pursued their journey homeward. For the first 
 few days they subsisted on a calf which they had stolen. Both 
 men were destitute of pantaloons. Their hats they bound upon 
 their feet. 
 
 At last they reached Schenectady. They had forgotten 
 their appearance. They were half naked. Their nails were an 
 inch long. During their lengthened captivity their hair and 
 beards had grown into vast and matted masses. The people of 
 Schenectady gathered around them, supposing they were wild 
 men of the woods. Suddenly a lady named Ellis recog 
 nized Frederick Sammons. She rushed through the crowd, 
 seized his hands, and fainted. The adventures of the fugitives 
 were over. 
 
 One singular coincidence remains to be mentioned. At the 
 time when Jacob Sammons lay weak and exhausted on the shore 
 of Lake Champlain, and tried to carve his name on the tree, 
 that his bones might not be without a memorial, his brother 
 Frederick was near at hand, with his hat hoisted upon the pole 
 as a signal of distress. At the time of their greatest suffering, 
 when each, ignorant of the other's fate, felt that death was near 
 at hand, the brothers were not two miles apart ! 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 369 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 
 
 JHE keys to history are the names of its epochs. 
 Every remarkable period somehow and from 
 somewhere takes to itself a name. It is the 
 way the people have of writing history. The 
 great masses of humanity have neither time to 
 write elaborate histories of the age in which 
 they live, nor have their posterity time to read 
 them. The millions simply give a name to their 
 age. They place an everlasting brand upon its brow, which it 
 must wear forever amid the great procession of historic periods. 
 The mighty artist paints the picture complete at a single stroke. 
 Such a name was that given by the French to the climax of 
 their revolution the Reign of Terror. It is itself a panorama. 
 It is itself a whole historical library. Others may write and 
 elaborate the details. These words tell it all. 
 
 Of this sort is the title of this chapter. Among the settlers 
 of the Ohio valley the year 1777 stood out in a solitude of 
 horror. Standing in the midst of a long series of years dark 
 ened by ceaseless conflict with the savages, it was darker than 
 the darkest. It was bloodier than the bloodiest. It stood 
 alone, a lofty mountain peak, amid ranges of nestling hills. Then 
 the settlers of the valley, as if by instinct, gave that year a 
 name. It is also that of this chapter. Earth has run red with 
 other wars when they were at rest forever. But so long as 
 men look at the past, so long as the lovely valley of the Ohio 
 unrolls its laughing landscapes to the sunlight, the children of 
 
370 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the settlers, hearing that name, may not forget the sorrows of 
 their fathers. 
 
 KENTUCKI ! This was the land of promise toward which the 
 boldest spirits of the colonies had been looking for several years 
 before the outbreak of the Revolutionary war. New-year's 
 day, of 1777, with its heavy snow-fall and extreme cold, was 
 celebrated in this wilderness by several hundred settlers. There 
 were forts already built at Harrodsburg, Boonesborough, and at 
 the present town of Stanford. Amid the frolic of this New-year's 
 day were uplifted the cheery voices of wives and mothers and 
 the romping noise of children, as well as the loud laugh of 
 shaggy hunters and pioneers. In the cabins at the forts, huge 
 fires burned in immense fire-places. Before these roasted and 
 sizzled the smoking game of rarest flavor, while the bright 
 yellow of the sweet but homely corn-dodger silently deepened 
 into a richer brown. 
 
 When at last the women, with faces which had caught the 
 ruddy tint of the roaring fire, announced that dinner was ready, 
 there was great clatter to drag up rude seats to the puncheon 
 table. If the feast lacked variety, it was toothsome, and the 
 mighty appetites of the family and guests would put to blush 
 the dainty eaters of a later day. Nor was the entertainment 
 thought complete without hearty draughts of liquors that are 
 now proscribed. In the wild loneliness of their lives these 
 brave people forgot not the holidays which they had been 
 used to celebrate amid gentler surroundings. Amid their 
 rough and dangerous career these days shone out bright, joyous 
 and happy. 
 
 The snow had not yet melted from the cleared fields around 
 the Harrodsburg fort, in March, 1777, when signs became man 
 ifest of an unusual disturbance among the Indians. Four miles 
 from the fort, Coomes, Shores, and the two Ray boys were fell 
 ing trees. Without a moment's warning a rifle ball, aimed by 
 a dusky hand, killed William Ray. 
 
 The rest undertook to escape by flight. Shores was over- 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 371 
 
 taken and captured. Coomes, unable to maintain his terrific 
 speed, flung himself among some briers, and was overlooked. 
 James Ray was a wonderful runner. The swiftest warriors 
 could not get within gunshot of him. In thirty minutes he 
 dashed into the fort and gave the alarm. There was a dis 
 agreement as to the course to pursue. McGary, father-in-law 
 of William Ray, wanted to go to the rescue. Harrod opposed 
 it. In the heat of the moment the men raised their guns to 
 shoot. McGary's wife rushed between and snatched her hus 
 band's weapon. McGary galloped off with thirty men. The 
 bleeding corpse of Ray was found. Coomes was rescued. Poor 
 Shores and his captors were gone. 
 
 A few days after this tragedy a cabin outside of the stock 
 ade was seen to be on fire. When the whites attempted to 
 extinguish it, a large number of Indians sprang into sight, and, 
 after a sharp struggle, drove them back into the fort. The 
 Indians encamped in full view. For days they acted as if no 
 such thing as a white man's fort was anywhere near. It was 
 a ruse. One afternoon, without a single indication of their pur 
 pose, the whole force rushed forward to the fort. The scheme 
 failed. In three minutes forty men leveled their rifles through 
 the port-holes of the fort, and checked the advance with fatal 
 volleys. 
 
 During the night the Indians decamped, and proceeded to 
 Boonesborough. After an unsuccessful attack, they again 
 changed their purpose, and advanced to Logan's Fort, one mile 
 west of the present town of Stanford. This little redoubt and 
 its precious population of mothers and children was defended 
 by thirteen men. 
 
 One morning the women, attended by half the garrison, 
 went out to milk the cows. The Indians, concealed in a cane- 
 brake, at once fired, killing three men outright. A fourth fell 
 wounded. The rest fled to the fort. In a few moments the 
 wounded man was seen dragging himself, with great difficulty, 
 to the fort. His strength gave out; he could proceed no farther. 
 
372 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The Indians withheld their fire, hoping to decoy a party out 
 of the fort to rescue the poor fellow. His wife and children 
 were agonized at the sight, but could do nothing. Benjamin 
 Logan, the builder of the fort, called for volunteers to join him 
 in a rescue. One man responded. 
 
 Thus attended, Logan started. At the gate his companion's 
 heart failed him. Logan went on alone. In a shower of balls 
 Logan ran down the hill, seized the wounded man, and started 
 back. A shot brought him to his knees, but he struggled on 
 till the great wooden gate shut out the danger. A furious 
 assault followed. The nine men within the fort fought the 
 two hundred without. Blind with rage, the assailants again and 
 again swarmed up the hill, and again and again retreated in 
 confusion before the deadly firing from the fort. Foiled in 
 their attempt to carry it by storm, the savages determined 
 to reduce it by famine. 
 
 Days passed. The supply of provisions at the fort grew 
 smaller. Their ammunition could not hold out much longer. 
 When it was gone, the savages would beat down the wooden 
 gates, and the defenders of the fort would be conquered. Har- 
 rodsburg and Boonesborough would not be able to divide their 
 own dwindling supplies, even if they could be reached. 
 
 In this emergency, the lion-hearted Logan determined to 
 make his way to the nearest settlement in Virginia. On a 
 dark and stormy night he left the fort, crawled through the 
 lines of the Indian encampment, and struck out through the 
 wilderness. He reached his destination. He loaded himself 
 down with gunpowder and lead. The settlement refused to 
 send a relief party, but promised to dispatch a messenger to 
 the Virginia government with news of the alarming condition 
 of affairs in Kentucky. With this promise, he hastened to 
 return. His way was beset with difficulties. Rains came near 
 ruining his gunpowder, rivers almost overwhelmed him, savages 
 pursued him. Yet he reached the little fort in safety. He 
 brought relief. Days and weeks passed. Still the stubborn 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 373 
 
 besiegers did not move. The situation at the fort again grew 
 desperate. At this point a relief party, under command of 
 Colonel Bowman, arrived. The agony was ended. Logan's 
 Fort was saved. 
 
 This, however, by no means relieved the settlers. Indians 
 continued to swarm into the country from all directions. Boones- 
 borough and Harrodsburg were practically in a continued siege. 
 Throughout the summer a camp of five hundred Indians was 
 maintained within a quarter of a mile of Harrodsburg. To 
 procure game for "the fort was full of difficulty and danger. 
 Yet it was indispensable. It had been impossible to go out of 
 the fort to raise a crop of corn in the cleared land. The old 
 supply was exhausted. For weeks they had lived in the fort 
 without bread. Yet the daring hunters at the fort braved 
 every danger. McGary, Harrod, and Ray would slip out of 
 the fort at night, make their way to some distant game cover, 
 load themselves with the spoils of the chase, and return as they 
 went, by night. 
 
 The details of personal heroism can not be followed. One 
 day, Ray and McConnell had incautiously gone outside the 
 stockade to practice target shooting. While they used a tree, 
 some Indians used them for the target. McConnell was killed. 
 Ray started for the fort, but the gate was closed against him. 
 Twenty feet from the wall was a stump, behind which he threw 
 himself. He lay in this situation four hours, the balls of 
 the enemy striking within a few inches of him. At last a 
 hole was dug under the wall, and he was taken into the fort in 
 that way. 
 
 Winter alone brought relief to the Kentuckians. The year 
 had been one of unparalleled hardship. They were unable to 
 leave the country, and, reduced almost to starvation, had carried 
 on a defensive war with overwhelming forces of Indians for 
 nearly a year. Of the causes of this bloody invasion the Ken 
 tuckians knew little. History, however, shows that it was a 
 part of the Revolutionary War. While England fought the 
 
374 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Colonies from the north and east, her emissaries incited the 
 Indians to become her allies, and attack the exposed settle 
 ments of the west. Far more terrible was the conflict of the 
 bloody and ominous year of the three sevens in the western 
 part of Virginia than in Kentucky. 
 
 In the war of 1774 in this region, known as "Lord Dun- 
 more's war," the great Shawanese chief, Cornstalk, had shared 
 with his warriors the crushing defeat of Point Pleasant. When, 
 therefore, the agents of Great Britain induced all the tribes 
 north-west of the Ohio to unite for an attack on the whites, and 
 held out the hope, that the tide of pioneers could thus be rolled 
 faack even beyond the Blue Ridge, Cornstalk alone refused to 
 enter the confederacy. His voice alone was lifted to warn of 
 the hopelessness of a struggle with the white man. Unable to 
 control his warriors, he went to the fort at Point Pleasant, and 
 laid before the officers the details of the great conspiracy. It 
 was decided to detain him and his company as hostages, as 
 security for the neutrality of his tribe. To this he assented. 
 A small force of colonial troops was also collected at Point 
 Pleasant. 
 
 One August morning Cornstalk was drawing in charcoal on 
 the cabin floor a map of the route the Indian army would take. 
 Suddenly a halloo was heard from the opposite shore of the 
 Ohio. Cornstalk recognized it as the voice of his son Elenip- 
 sico. He had grown uneasy at his father's absence. The meet 
 ing of father and son was full of joy. The next day two sol 
 diers, out hunting across the river, were fired on from a thicket. 
 Gilmore was killed. The shots, and the flight of the other 
 hunter to the shore of the river, were perceived at the fort. A 
 canoe full of men at once crossed the river. Hamilton was res 
 cued. Gilmore's scalped and bloody corpse was recovered. 
 
 The soldiers at the fort were enraged beyond measure. 
 Many of them had suffered from the savages. One had been a 
 captive. Another's parents had been massacred. Yet another's 
 wife had been carried into captivity and never heard of more. 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 
 
 The entire family of the dead Gilmore had been massacred 
 twelve years before. These cruelties had filled their hearts 
 with hatred for the savages. They brooded over the awful 
 injuries. 
 
 At the first note of war they had taken the field against the 
 Indians. Now, when the "poor, poor, dumb mouths" of Gil- 
 more's wounds spoke in silent eloquence of the bloody wrong, 
 a dreadful cry arose. " KILL THE INDIANS IN THE FORT!" The 
 crowd at the river shore where the canoe had landed, inflamed 
 by the cry, became a maddened mob. Up the hill they started 
 in headlong fury to carry out the horrible threat. Two officers, 
 hearing the riot, rushed out to turn aside the men from their 
 awful purpose. But the flood-gates of murder were open, and 
 the red tide would have its way. " Interfere with us, and you 
 are dead men !" A score of rifles were leveled at the two 
 young officers. 
 
 On towards the fort swept the mob, as if possessed by soma 
 raging demon, their faces crimson with fury, and every voice 
 lifted in hoarse yells of rage. A woman saw them coming. 
 She listened. She caught the advancing cry of "Kill the 
 Indians." She ran to their cabin, and told them in hurried 
 accents that the soldiers believed that Elenipsico had brought 
 with him the Indians who had killed Gilmore, and were coming 
 to kill them. The young chief vehemently denied the charge. 
 Lifting his hand to heaven, he called on the Great Spirit to 
 bear witness to his innocence. As the shouts of the mob grew 
 plainer he trembled with excitement. Cornstalk spoke sooth 
 ingly to him. "Die like a man. The Great Spirit has sent 
 you here to die with your father, that you may not live to see 
 the sorrows of your people. It is best." 
 
 The words quieted Elenipsico. He seated himself on a 
 stool to rise no more. Red Hawk attempted to hide in the 
 chimney. The murderers were at the door. Cornstalk, with 
 folded arms and a look of unspeakable majesty and courage, 
 advanced to receive them. No word escaped his lips. 
 
376 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 soldiers fired. Without a groan the mighty chieftain fell dead, 
 pierced by seven balls, slain in cold blood by the very men 
 whom he was trying to serve and to save. Elenipsico remained 
 quiet. In a moment he was quiet forever. He met his fate in 
 a manner worthy of his fallen sire. Red Hawk was dragged 
 from his hiding-place, and killed. A fourth Shawanese was then 
 dispatched with the clubs of the murderers' guns, and the hor 
 rid massacre was ended. 
 
 That the whites murdered their friend is beyond doubt. The 
 killing of Gilmore, the only evidence which caused them to 
 think Elenipsico had brought the Indians with him, and the 
 only evidence which has ever been adduced to prove his guilt, 
 really tended strongly to prove his innocence. Had the Indians 
 been companions and friends of Elenipsico they would never 
 have committed such a murder while their own great chief, 
 Cornstalk and his son, their friend, were defenseless and in the 
 power of the soldiers at the neighboring fort. 
 
 It is said that after the battle of Point Pleasant, three years 
 before, Cornstalk called his warriors together, and said : " The 
 Long Knives are coming to burn our town, and will soon be 
 in sight. What shall we do." After a long silence Cornstalk 
 arose and said : " You have proposed nothing. We have been 
 beaten in a great battle. The Long Knives are pursuing us. 
 When the sun rises, he will look upon the ashes of our wig 
 wams and the corpses of our people. I have a plan. Let us 
 kill our women and children; then let our warriors go out and 
 fight until they too are killed." Still there was no response. 
 " Then," said he, striking his tomahawk into the tent-post, " I 
 will go and make peace." He did so. Dunmore's war was 
 ended. From that time he was the firm friend of the whites. 
 For this friendship, he and his son, the pride of his life, the 
 flower of the tribe, were murdered by an insane mob. 
 
 The murderers of Cornstalk were rewarded. During the 
 time he was at the fort, messengers had been dispatched to 
 the Virginia authorities, carrying the warning of the coming 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 377 
 
 storm, and asking help. But the eyes of the people were turned 
 in another direction. The thirteen colonies were adrift upon the 
 stormy sea of revolution. Every purse was emptied, every arm 
 lifted, every nerve strained, to strengthen the cause of the suf 
 fering patriots. The new British commander, Burgoyne, with 
 his splendid army, was sweeping down from the north, along the 
 shores of Champlain and George, carrying every thing before him. 
 Crown Point, Ticonderoga, Fort Edward, Fort Ann, one after 
 another were falling. But there yet lay in his path, to the 
 heart of the colonies, the army of the north, under General Gates. 
 
 Toward the conflict which was shortly to ensue, every pat 
 riot looked with anxiety and apprehension. But the invasion 
 of Burgoyne was not the only danger. Lord Howe was begin 
 ning his advance upon Philadelphia, the capital of the confeder 
 acy. Opposed to him was George Washington, with his army 
 of the south, that immortal band which had seven months before 
 startled the world with their memorable escape over the crum 
 bling ice of the Delaware, at Trenton, and who were destined to 
 make another retreat not less famous, in which their bare and 
 bleeding feet were to mark their stony path to Valley Forge 
 with the red insignia of suffering. 
 
 The patriots felt that the eyes of the world were upon them. 
 The ragged un-uniformed, bare-footed soldiery, transfigured and 
 inspired by immortal ideas, suffered and fought with a conscious 
 ness that all that was good in the past, and all that was bright 
 in the future of humanity, was staked upon the issue of the war. 
 The women of the colonies toiled in field and kitchen, at the 
 loom, and in the hospital, to supply food, clothing, and medi 
 cine to the starved and bleeding troops. Men were spending 
 every dollar of their private fortune in the cause of liberty and 
 independence. The very children caught the spirit of self-sac 
 rifice from their sires. Memorable struggle ! Immortal victory ! 
 
 What then could Virginia, the home of Washington, Jeffer 
 son, and Patrick Henry do for the frontier? Nothing. Her 
 zeal, her attention, her resources, were all absorbed in the 
 
378 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 momentous conflict of the Revolution. On receipt of the news 
 from Point Pleasant, the Virginia authorities were filled with 
 dismay. Not a man could be spared to repel the Indian inva 
 sion. A small quantity of ammunition was sent to each of the 
 four forts which at that time guarded the entire frontier Red 
 Stone, on the Monongahela, Fort Pitt, Fort Henry, at Wheeling, 
 and the one at Point Pleasant. Of these, Fort Henry had no 
 regular garrison at all. The settlers who might take refuge in it 
 were its only defenders. 
 
 In addition to the little supply. of ammunition, the Virginia 
 government dispatched mounted messengers along the frontier, 
 carrying the news of the approaching invasion to the scattered 
 cabins, and of the government's inability to send relief, and 
 advising them to abandon their exposed situations, and fly to 
 places of safety. In some localities these tidings of alarm were 
 followed by hurried preparations for flight, but generally the 
 brave frontiersmen were reluctant to abandon their little proper 
 ties, won from the wilderness by such persistent toil, and began 
 to erect block-houses, store provisions, and drive their cattle into 
 stockades, by way of defense against the painted invaders. 
 
 During the summer, isolated murders and depredations 
 became more and more frequent along the frontier, but it was 
 not till the latter part of August that the scouts brought word 
 to the settlements that the Indians of the west were on the war 
 path, and would shortly be upon them. Where the blow would 
 fall, no one could tell. The anxious settlers gathered in their 
 forts and block-houses. 
 
 Wheeling, a village of thirty houses, was, with the excep 
 tion of Pittsburg, the most important place on the Ohio River. 
 Fort Henry was its citadel. The fort stood on a lofty bluff. 
 It was an oblong square, of oak palisades, inclosing two or 
 three acres of ground. At the corners of the stockade were 
 block-houses. Inside were the magazine and a few solid cabins, 
 quarters for the neighboring settlers who might take refuge 
 there. In the few years since their coming, the founders of 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF TELE THREE SEVENS. 379 
 
 Wheeling had made the wilderness to blossom as the rose. 
 Standing on the ramparts of Fort Henry, looking out over the 
 landscape, one might have seen not only the encircling forests, 
 the distant purple of the mountains, and the winding river, but 
 also green pastures, populated with contented cattle, waving 
 .fields of yellow grain, leafy orchards, from which peeped the 
 blushing fruit, and solid barns to store the products of the farms. 
 
 On the 31st of August, 1777, scouts brought definite infor 
 mation of the approach of five hundred Indians, all armed with 
 the best weapons, and abundantly supplied by the British Gov 
 ernment with ammunition. They were commanded by a white 
 man. On receipt of this intelligence, every one repaired to the 
 fort. The cattle were driven into the stockade. Provisions 
 and ammunition were hurriedly carried up the bluff, and lodged 
 in the store-house and magazine. Camp fires were built inside 
 the stockade. 
 
 As night came on, the women and children spread improvised 
 beds on the floors of the cabins. But, though they retired, they 
 were wide-awake. The women talked to each other in excited 
 whispers. The crackling of a twig caused shudders of appre 
 hension. Forty times during the night, it was said : " There 
 they are !" The men remained outside to watch. They sat 
 around the camp fire, gun in hand, saying little, constantly on 
 the alert, and grimly awaiting the attack. There were just 
 sixty men in the fort. But the night passed without any indi 
 cation of the presence of the foe. The truth was the Indians had 
 come within sight of the fort. They had seen the sparks from 
 the camp-fires, and the lights in the block-houses. This showed 
 that the garrison was awake. The night attack was abandoned. 
 
 For this disappointment the Indians resolved to compensate 
 themselves. An ambuscade would be about as gratifying as the 
 night attack. They ranged themselves in a double line across 
 the fields. When the sun rose they lay hidden in the weeds. The 
 people at the fort did not suspect the trap. A white man and 
 a negro went out to drive in some horses which had been over 
 
 21 
 
380 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 looked the night before. They walked into the snare. Six 
 Indians sprang up. The white man was killed. But the negro 
 was purposely allowed to escape, that he might carry word to 
 the fort and induce more men to come out. The scheme suc 
 ceeded. He reported that there were six Indians down there. 
 Fourteen men, under Captain Mason, at once set out to punish 
 the murderers. Sure enough they found six Indians retreating 
 across the field. The pursuers fired. As if by magic the field 
 was instantly blackened with Indians starting up from their 
 concealment. Retreat was cut off. The white men fell on the 
 encircling lines with the fury of despair. They hacked, clubbed, 
 cut, gashed, and beat their way through. We said " they." 
 Who? The fifteen? No, ihefour! Eleven never got through. 
 Mason and three men started to run for the fort. William 
 Shepherd's foot caught in a grape vine. He fell. Before he 
 could rise, a tomahawk clove asunder his skull. Another was 
 shot as he ran. Mason snatched his gun. He, himself, was 
 wounded twice, but he pressed on in the race for life, fle felt 
 the warm breath of his pursuer. He stopped short, tripped up 
 the savage, and shot him. He could proceed no farther. He 
 crawled into a hollow log, and lay there till the pursuers ceased 
 to be such. 
 
 The discharge of guns and the yells of the Indians had 'been 
 the only information at the fort of the ambuscade. As has 
 been said, it was a little after sunrise. A dense fog from the 
 river made it impossible to see an object ten feet off. The 
 defenders of the fort saw nothing. Captain Ogle took twelve 
 more men, and went to the rescue. He was a little in the 
 rear of his party. Suddenly a ring of Indians was discovered 
 to have completely surrounded the party in the fog. Ogle alone 
 was left outside the circle. The scene that followed was the 
 worst sort of a butchery. In two minutes all but two of Ogle's 
 men were killed. Ogle hid himself in a fence corner. An 
 Indian came, and sat just above him on the fence. He was 
 wounded and in pain. He did not notice the white man. When 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 381 
 
 the wounded Indian left. Ogle made his way to the fort. They 
 were making a list of the dead. Twenty-seven of the best men 
 had left the fort. Only four had returned alive, and they were 
 wounded. 
 
 There was no time to grieve. " The whole force of Indians 
 was starting up the hill, flourishing the bloody scalps of the 
 slain, for an assault on the. fort. These scalps were valuable. 
 Colonel Hamilton, the British commandant at Detroit, who had 
 fitted out this terrible war-party, paid thirty dollars for every 
 settler's scalp. Twenty-three scalps were worth six hundred 
 and ninety dollars. Hamilton is known to history as the "hair 
 buyer." There were thirty-three men and about a hundred 
 women and children left in the fort. Every heart was heavy 
 with grief from the terrible' disasters of the morning. The 
 Indians called for a surrender. But the weakened garrison 
 replied that death alone could conquer them. 
 
 The Indians began the attack. At first, they fought at long 
 range, firing into the walls of the palisade, and doing no execu 
 tion. The defenders of the fort reserved their fire. At last, 
 the Indians started in a dead run for the gates of the palisade, to 
 tear them down and force an entrance. They were met by a 
 deadly fire at point-blank range. The charging column wavered. 
 To hesitate in a charge is to retreat. The Indians retreated. 
 
 It was an hour before this maneuver was repeated. This 
 time the danger to the fort was great. Its defenders were 
 splendid marksmen. Many a noble form was stretched lifeless 
 in the grass as the Indians swarmed up the slope. But the 
 numbers of the foe were so great that it seemed almost impos 
 sible to beat them back. Instead of retreating at the first fire, 
 the survivors continued to advance. 
 
 The women of the fort were busy. Some moulded bullets. 
 Others loaded guns, and handed them to the men, who could, 
 as a consequence, fire three times where they could only have 
 done so once. The garrison seemed to multiply itself. Some 
 of the women stood at port-holes, loading and firing with ' 
 
382 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 all the skill and precision of the men. The battle is said ta 
 have lasted twenty-three hours. During the lulls in the con 
 flict, the women would carry bread and meat to the smoke- 
 blackened men at the port-holes. It seemed as if the strength 
 of the Indians would never be weakened. It seemed as if their 
 persistence would never be wearied out. During all that time, 
 not an eye was cldsed in slumber, not a hand removed from 
 a rifle. 
 
 There were many incidents of personal heroism during the 
 siege. As there was another siege of Fort Henry in 1782, 
 there has been great dispute as to which siege the respective 
 incidents belong. The best authorities differ. But for our pur 
 pose, this doubt is unimportant. The place, persons, and cir 
 cumstances were the same at both sieges. The defenses were 
 equally heroic. This is not a critical history. It is a popular 
 recountal. We will take advantage of the doubt as to time. 
 We will range ourselves with those authorities which hold that 
 Elizabeth Zane's gunpowder exploit and Sam. McCullough's 
 leap for life occurred in the siege of 1777. It would be inter 
 esting to relate this historical dispute. Both sides rest their 
 argument on the sworn testimony of eye-witnesses. Either 
 account, taken by itself and judged by the canons of historical 
 criticism, would appear unimpeachable. Yet they are abso 
 lutely contradictory. . They differ not only as to time, but as 
 to the actors themselves, and as to the transaction itself. 
 
 One woman, who was an eye-witness, swears that she saw 
 the gunpowder exploit performed by Mollie Clark, in 1782, that 
 she herself handed out the gunpowder, that the supply had run 
 short, not at the fort, but at Colonel Zane's cabin outside the 
 stockade, and that Elizabeth Zane was not present at the siege 
 at all. On the other hand, the first published accounts of the 
 affair were prepared by scrupulously careful writers who 
 obtained their whole information from the people of Wheeling, 
 who were participants in the siege. They say the exploit was 
 performed at the first siege, and relate it as we give it herein. 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 383 
 
 This dispute shows how apt eye-witnesses are, after a shorter 
 or longer lapse of time, to exaggerate, to pervert, to wholly 
 hange the facts, no matter how honest their intentions. It 
 illustrates the slenderness of so much of what is called histor 
 ical evidence. It warns us to be cautious as to how we receive 
 accounts of marvelous and unusual occurrences, and explains 
 in a very practical way the growth of legends and histor 
 ical myths. 
 
 During the afternoon of the first day, the supply of gun 
 powder was perceived to be dangerously small. Colonel Zane, 
 the founder of Wheeling, remembered that in his cabin, sixty 
 yards from the fort, was a full keg of powder. He called the 
 men about him, told them the facts, and asked for volunteers to 
 procure the keg of powder. Several brave fellows offered, but 
 at this point, Elizabeth Zane, a handsome and vivacious girl, 
 stepped forward. 
 
 She was a younger sister of the colonel, and had just come 
 from Philadelphia, where she had been educated in the best 
 school for young ladies in the city. Though wholly unfamiliar 
 with border warfare, she had thrown herself into the work of 
 casting bullets, making cartridges, and loading rifles, with the 
 .greatest zeal and courage. Now she bounded forward and 
 imperiously announced, " No one shall go but myself !" The 
 men turned quickly as her clear voice rang out in the air. Her 
 flashing eyes and mounting color added emphasis to the bold 
 declaration. At first, her offer was peremptorily refused, but the 
 high-spirited girl was not to be denied. She argued that the 
 enfeebled garrison could better spare her than any of the men. 
 
 In a moment she opened the heavy gate, and flew towards 
 the cabin. The Indians saw her and watched her movements. 
 When she came out of the building, and, with the keg of pow 
 der in her arms, sped with the fleetness of a fawn toward the 
 fort, they sent heavy volleys of bullets after her, but not a ball 
 touched the person of the daring girl. The gates were opened. 
 She entered safely with her prize. A loud cheer welcomed her, 
 
384 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 / 
 
 and every man, inspired by her heroism, and thrilled with her 
 loveliness, resolved to repulse the foe or die in the effort. The 
 young heroine lived to a ripe age, becoming the founder of 
 Zanesville, Ohio, it is said. "The story of Elizabeth Zane," 
 says Lossing, "ought to be perpetuated in marble and preserved 
 in the Valhalla of our Revolutionary heroes." 
 
 During the night the savages kept up their assaults with 
 unwearied vigor. About midnight they began to fire the houses 
 of Wheeling, one after another. Meanwhile, relief was coming 
 from two directions. How news flies so rapidly in a wilderness 
 where there are neither telegraphs, railroads, mails, stage coaches, 
 couriers, nor travelers, is a mystery impossible to explain. How 
 ever it may be, Major Sam. McCullough, at the head of forty 
 mounted men, was on his way from the Short Creek settlement, 
 and Colonel Swearinger, with fourteen men, was coming down 
 the river in a boat from Halliday's fort. About four o'clock in 
 the morning McCullough's men dashed through the burning vil 
 lage and up to the fort. McCullough himself reined in, refusing 
 to go in till all of his men had entered. The Indians made a 
 rush to intercept the relief party, but were too late for any one 
 except McCullough. He was left outside as the gates closed. 
 They could have killed him, but desired to take him alive and 
 save him for torture, to avenge themselves for the many injuries 
 he had inflicted on them. McCullough, the hero of many a close 
 encounter, put spurs to his horse and dashed along the hillside, 
 toward Van Meter's block-house, several miles away. He had 
 reached the top of Wheeling Hill, fairly distancing his pursuers, 
 when a body of Indians appeared just ahead of him, moving 
 rapidly to surround him. 
 
 A glance taught him the peril of the situation. On one side 
 was a steep precipice ; on the others were his foes. He hesi 
 tated not an instant, but curved his horse abruptly toward the 
 precipice, and, with a leap disappeared from the view of his 
 astounded pursuers. The hill was very high and . exceedingly 
 abrupt in its declivity. The Indians ran to the brink, expect- 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 385 
 
 ing to see his mangled corpse on the rocks below. Instead of 
 this, they saw him firmly seated in his saddle, galloping rapidly 
 around a point of rocks safe from their pursuit. 
 
 Swearinger's party, coming down the dark and foggy river, 
 now running ashore, now far out in mid-stream, out of sight of 
 land, half rowing, half drifting, were apprehensive lest they 
 should pass Wheeling in the pitchy darkness. Their fears were 
 groundless. Long before they reached the place, a red and 
 angry glare lit up the black canopy of clouds which overhung 
 the unfortunate settlement. 
 
 It was dawn before they reached their destination. Half- 
 stifled by the smoke from the ruined cabins, they crawled up to 
 the fort, and entered. Not an Indian was visible. A furious 
 attack had been repulsed and was followed by an unusual still 
 ness. Two bold scouts went out to reconnoiter. They returned 
 without discovering the whereabouts of the foe. Then Colonel 
 Zane took twenty men and explored the field and forest where 
 the savages had so lately encamped. They were gone. Dis 
 couraged by the re-enforcement of McCullough's men, they had 
 abandoned the siege, after burning the village and killing three 
 hundred cattle. , 
 
 A day passed. No signs of Indians were visible. The set 
 tlers ventured out of the fort to the desolate site of their fron 
 tier homes. Many a family had lost not only its home, but the 
 strong right arm of the husband and father, which could have 
 replaced the home. Place and prospect were to them but a 
 vista of dreariness. With many a stifled sigh the survivors 
 took up again the burden of life. In a day or two Captain 
 Foreman arrived with more re-enforcements from Hampshire. 
 For several weeks the people at Wheeling kept on their guard. 
 That the Indians had returned to their towns in the west seemed 
 possible. 
 
 On September 26th a cloud of smoke seemed to be rising 
 from the region of Tomlinson's place, twelve miles below Wheel 
 ing. To ascertain the facts and lend assistance if necessary, 
 
386 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Foreman took a strong party and started in the direction of the 
 smoke. Grave Creek, as the place was called, was found all 
 safe. The men remained over night and commenced their 
 return trip. 
 
 Foreman, a thick-headed fellow, inexperienced in Indian fight 
 ing, indulged in fatal recklessness. He would build large fires 
 at night, and went to sleep right by them. In his company was 
 a weather-beaten scout, named Lynn. His crafty eye took in the 
 danger of this proceeding, and after a caution to Foreman, he 
 and two or three of his fellows withdrew to a dark spot in 
 the forest for their night's repose. About two o'clock in the 
 morning, a faint plashing could be heard by a practiced ear. 
 It came from the other side of the river. It was too regular 
 and rythmical to be occasioned by the dash of the current on 
 a hidden rock, or the sportive leapings of the fish from the 
 dark depths. Lynn awoke. He listened. He made his way 
 over to Foreman, roused him, and told him that he believed that 
 Indians had seen their camp-fire, and were embarking from the 
 opposite shore of the river on rafts, for an attack. Foreman 
 repulsed him rudely, and turning over went to sleep. A shade 
 fell on the honest face of the scout. He withdrew again into 
 the forest. But he remained wide awake. He stood behind a 
 tree, his finger on the trigger of his musket. He watched. 
 
 But the enemy, if present, gave no indications of it. With 
 the morning came the order for marching. There were two 
 routes. One along the creek bottom, the other along a ridge of 
 hills. Lynn urged the latter, as being safer from ambuscade, 
 and a different way from the one by which they came. Whom 
 the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad. Foreman was 
 mad. He scoffed at the rusty-looking scout. The fatal com 
 mand was given to take the lower route. 
 
 Lynn and a half dozen companions left the company to 
 return by the ridge. It was well. As Foreman's party pro 
 ceeded the men discovered some Indian trinkets on the ground. 
 A man in advance picked them up. Such a find is unusual. 
 
THE BLOODY YEAR OF THE THREE SEVENS. 387 
 
 The backwoodsman is, after all, a man. He has curiosity. But 
 his life is barren. Of the splendors of a great city, with its 
 magnificent store windows, filled with dazzling and brilliant dis 
 plays, he has no conception. A few beads are to him an object 
 of wonder. To find them in the woods is a miracle. The men 
 crowded eagerly around the finder of the treasure. The big, 
 rough fellows, brave as lions, behaved like children. They 
 jostled and crowded each other to get a better sight of the toy. 
 They were intently absorbed. Every eye was on the treasure. 
 Had one of them looked around he would have seen that they 
 were surrounded by Indians. 
 
 There was a fearful explosion. The unseen circle of enemies 
 had fired. Twenty-one white men fell dead on the spot. The 
 rest would have fallen at the second fire. But suddenly there 
 were heard terrific yells from the top of the hill. The Indians 
 turned to listen. It seemed as if a whole army was coming. 
 The Indians broke and ran ; the faster the better. In a moment 
 they were gone. The yslls did not come from an army. They 
 came from Lynn and his companions. The remainder of Fore 
 man's party was saved. He, himself, had paid the penalty for 
 his obstinacy. But it was small recompense for the poor fel 
 lows lying cold in death. 
 
388 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 
 
 changes have been mirrored in the blue 
 Ohio during the last hundred years ! The 
 waters of the river itself have not been more 
 changing than the landscape. This is the true 
 age of magic. Who 'is there that does not see 
 that the Lamp of Civilization far surpasses the 
 dull luminary of one Aladdin? Not a single 
 palace, but whole cities have sprung into exist 
 ence, as it were, in a single night. Instead of transforming 
 towns into lakes, and their inhabitants into blue, green, and yel 
 low fish, by our -magic, swamps and reedy lakes are transformed 
 into cities, and in the place of innumerable suckers, cats, and 
 minnows, behold thronging populations of men. Unnumbered 
 generations of wide-eyed children have wondered at the 
 enchanted horse, which, by the turning of a peg, in a single 
 day transported the Prince of Persia and his lady love to his 
 distant dominions. But we have enchanted horses which travel 
 at the rate of a mile a minute, able to carry, not merely two 
 persons, but whole populations. Yet we do not wonder. The 
 author of the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments" thought his 
 fancy had transcended the bounds of all that was possible. But 
 the creations of his imagination are tame and dull beside the 
 marvelous handiwork of the real Genie, the Spirit of Civilization. 
 It is still possible to imagine the past. We can conjure up 
 faint visions of the majestic river rolling on in everlasting 
 solitude. The winding shores lie wrapped in the mantle of per- 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 389 
 
 ennial forests. Not a sound is heard above the muffled roar 
 of the flood. 
 
 It is evening. At points where the shore slopes gradually 
 to the water, stand shadowy herds of mild-eyed deer, now 
 drinking from the cooling current, now lifting their graceful 
 necks, and watching with timid anxiety some spot along the 
 shore, from which had come the suspicious sound of rustling 
 leaves. Lying hid in the thicket is a phantom canoe. A dusky 
 form steals cautiously through the underbrush toward the gentle 
 denizens of the forest. He obtains a view of the lovely sight, 
 His eye flashes, his nostril quivers, but not with admiration of 
 the beautiful. 
 
 There is a whirring sound, as a light shaft whistles through 
 the air. The startled deer leap toward the shadow of the for 
 est. Too late. The arrow-head is buried in the heart of a 
 noble buck. His leap was unto death. The crimson tide spurts 
 forth in hot jets upon the brown leaves of the wild wood. His 
 large and intelligent eye is slowly covered with a film which 
 shuts out forever the view of his forest home. His slender form 
 stiffens. The head is partially lifted, as if to look with mild 
 reproachfulness upon the enemy whom he had never harmed. 
 Then it sinks back upon the spreading antlers. The agony 
 is ended. 
 
 The dim picture quickly fades. Where stood the shadowy 
 outlines of the forest, now stately buildings and the stony 
 expanse of a great city's public landing, covered with vast piles 
 of merchandise, force themselves upon the vision. Along the 
 shore stretches a mile of stately steamers. From some just 
 landed, streams of busy passengers pour forth over the wharf- 
 boat. Others are about to depart. Dozens of drays thunder 
 down the stony slope with freight for the out-going vessels. 
 Gangs of deck-hands are hurriedly carrying aboard the last of 
 the cargo. The voice of the master is heard above the din, 
 incessantly urging the hands to greater exertions, now cursing 
 them for clumsiness or abusing them for laziness, now threat- 
 
390 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ening them with discharge and no pay, now promising various 
 glittering rewards for more speed. 
 
 At last the cargo is loaded. The last barrel is rolled aboard. 
 The last consignment of brooms and wooden buckets is stowed 
 away. The smoke, which has been rising, from the steamer's 
 chimneys in thin, idle currents, now rushes upward in black 
 Tolumes. The gangway is hauled aboard, the hawser cast off. 
 There is a hasty jingling of various signal bells. A heavy puff 
 from the engines, and the roaring swash of the paddle-wheels is 
 heard as the steamer slowly draws off from the dock. 
 
 If we turn from the din and confusion of the landing, we 
 hear above us the roar of the Queen City. Miles upon miles 
 of bowldered streets stretch on between tall rows of gloomy 
 buildings. The air is heavy with the smell of groceries, and 
 tremulous with the clangor of metropolitan activity. The street 
 lamps are being lighted, and as we look up the long avenue 
 their yellow flames on either side extend in a narrowing vista, 
 until, far up the hill, the walls of the street seem to come 
 together. 
 
 How came the change? Whence is the marvelous trans 
 formation ? Few of us think of it. The cities are here it is 
 enough. What care we for the struggles of our fathers ? No 
 doubt they were gentlemen, loving quiet, and, following their 
 tastes, they left the settled towns and cities of the east to build 
 rude homes in the peaceful valley of the Ohio. Unmolested 
 by any disturber, we think they quietly plowed the glebe, 
 harvested crops, reared their children, and were gathered to 
 their graves. 
 
 What a mistake ! The peace we now enjoy is the offspring 
 of war. Our fathers were not peaceful, timid men. They 
 were bold adventurers. They were scouts. They were Indian 
 fighters. The Ohio valley was won from the savages only after 
 the longest, the bloodiest struggle on record. It was a war 
 which raged without perceptible intermission from the breaking 
 out of Lord Dunmore's war, in 1774, to the battle of Fallen 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 391 
 
 Timbers, in 1794, a period of twenty years. During that time 
 the pioneers of the magnificent valley knew no peace. The 
 battles of the Revolution were fought and won, but in the 
 struggle with the savages there was no victory for the brave 
 colonists. The independence of the New Republic was achieved 
 by force of arms in spite of the greatest military nation on 
 earth, but against the redskins of the Ohio the arms of the 
 colonies prevailed not. 
 
 Peace was made with England, but with her Indian allies 
 no armistice took place. Treaties were concluded with every 
 European government, but the outraged red man still shook ' 
 aloft the gory tomahawk. Years rolled by. Expedition after 
 expedition was sent against the Indians of the west, only to 
 end in rout and massacre. Children grew to be men and women, 
 middle-aged men and women grew gray in the ceaseless conflict, 
 yet they fought with all the zeal of the bygone years. 
 
 The prize was worth the struggle, and the combatants knew 
 it. The region of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Kentucky, and Ten 
 nessee is the finest part of the American continent. The 
 Indians of the west for unnumbered generations knew it as the 
 best hunting-ground between the oceans. The white settlers 
 saw in it a seat of empire for their posterity, unequaled in 
 Europe or America. Midway between the extremes of temper 
 ature, with mild winters and cool summers, with the richest soil, 
 moderate rain-fall, a rolling surface, and abundant forests, it is 
 evident at this day that the pioneers did not overestimate the 
 prospect. There is hardly any limit to the population which 
 the region is capable of sustaining. Delightful for residence, it 
 is also the natural home of trade, agriculture, and manufacture. 
 
 As a nursery of great men, the Ohio valley has long since 
 distanced any other portion of the country. Henry Clay, Abra 
 ham Lincoln, Ulysses S. Grant, Joseph E. McDonald, John Sher 
 man, James A. Garfield, Rutherford B. Hayes, Hugh McCulloch, 
 Robert G. Ingersoll, Oliver P. Morton, Stephen A. Douglas,. 
 Thomas A. Henaricks, Allen G. Thurman, Benjamin Harrison,. 
 
392 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Matthew Simpson, E. S. Ames, Tom Corwin, Thomas Marshall, 
 George D. Prentice, Robert Dale Owen, Henry Ward Beecher, 
 William T. Sherman, Henry Bascom, A. E. Burnsides, Stonewall 
 Jackson these are the men whom the valley of the Ohio has 
 already furnished to the Republic. Where can be found any 
 other portion of the country, which, within less than a hundred 
 years after the first settlers found it a silent wilderness, has 
 given to the world such a constellation of statesmen, orators, 
 military commanders, and writers ? , 
 
 The Ohio valley then was won by war, by twenty years of 
 conflict. Reserving for separate chapters the stories of the dif 
 ferent expeditions and the most famous Indian fighters, in this 
 chapter we will collect the crumbs which fall from the table of 
 the feast. 
 
 The greater part of the romantic stories of Indian adventures 
 have been buried with the daring actors in oblivion. Besides, 
 the few tales which happened to be preserved in manuscript or 
 print, there yet linger in certain old families shadowy traditions 
 of their ancestors' struggles and adventures. Gray-haired men 
 are yet to be found in warm chimney corners, who can repeat 
 many romantic stories told them by their mothers. But in an 
 other generation these dim traditions will be gone, as will be the 
 men who tell them. Even with a recountal of the feats of which 
 the stories have been preserved, many volumes could be filled. 
 Here we can only outline some representative deeds and dangers. 
 
 THE ESCAPE OF McCONNEL. 
 
 People will eat. Alexander McConnel, of Lexington, Ken 
 tucky, though no philosopher, had observed this. So it came 
 to pass that he went hunting one spring morning in 1780, and 
 killed a fine deer. It was necessary to procure a horse to trans 
 port the game. Five Indians happened to find the fallen buck, 
 understood the situation, and, from a neighboring thicket pre 
 pared a reception for the hunter. Presently Mconnel, care 
 less of danger and chuckling over his good luck, appeared on 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 393 
 
 his horse. The Indians fired, killed the horse, but not the 
 rider, and took the latter captive. 
 
 His captors turned out to be jolly fellows, in spite of the deep 
 melancholy which is supposed to haunt the heart of the savage. 
 They let McConnel have his gun, and he chimed in with the 
 fun by killing game for them with fancy shots. About the 
 fourth evening the travelers encamped on the shore of the Ohio. 
 McConnel concluded the fun had gone far enough. He resolved 
 to escape before they crossed the river. He complained that 
 the cords with which they tied him at night were painful. 
 Being polite gentlemen, they tied him loosely, passed the ends 
 of the buffalo tug around their own bodies, and went to sleep. 
 McConnel lay quiet till midnight. 
 
 Then he made his right hand as small as possible, and tried 
 to draw it out of the loop. Impossible ! He tried the left hand 
 with the same result. He attempted to reach the knot with his 
 mouth. It could not be done. Heretofore he had borne his 
 light captivity with considerable resignation. Now he became 
 frantic. His veins grew swollen with rage. He strained and 
 pulled with the energy of despair. Useless ! He thought of 
 his home, of perpetual captivity, of a death by torture, of 
 suicide. 
 
 As he lay almost bursting with fury, something on the 
 ground, glittering in the firelight, caught his eye. He studied 
 it attentively. At last he made it out. It was a knife. How 
 could he reach it? He could not move his hands two inches 
 without waking his sleeping guards. It lay nearly two yards 
 from his feet. He commenced to slowly move his body toward 
 the foot of his rude pallet, under the cover of buffalo skin. As 
 this singular movement continued, he gradually drew his hands 
 upward, leaving them in the same relative position. Now they 
 were over his face, now above his head ; now stretched at full 
 length toward the head of the bed. His head was covered with 
 the buffalo robe. It could no longer be lifted. Unable to see 
 the knife he sought it with his foot. He felt everywhere for 
 
394 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 it. He could not find it. With his great toe he made a mark 
 in the ground. Then he drew himself up. He raised his head. 
 The knife was there. The mark made by his toe was eleven 
 inches this side of it. Eleven inches between liberty and a 
 death by torture ! 
 
 McConnel thought. In a little while he commenced moving 
 his head from side to side. At each movement he seized the 
 edge of the buffalo skin in his teeth and dragged it a little. 
 Presently the skin was partially pulled off the savage on the 
 right. He got cold. He turned over in his sleep to warm his 
 cold side. This threw him much nearer McConnel. But it 
 also gave considerable play to the prisoner's hands. Again 
 the latter cautiously wriggled toward the foot. Again he 
 extended his hands above his head. Again the foot sought 
 for the precious knife. 
 
 It was reached, grasped firmly between the toes, and drawn 
 upward. In a moment McConnel had it in his hand and sev 
 ered his bonds. He rose. Instead of fleeing, he deliberately 
 sat down by the fire. Strange conduct for a fugitive ! Too 
 well he knew that to fly without killing his captors meant cer 
 tain pursuit and recapture. The trail he would leave would be 
 as plain to their eyes as a plow furrow. He might succeed in 
 cutting the throats of one or two. But the death rattle must 
 rouse the rest. 
 
 At last he took all but two of the guns of the savages and 
 hid them in the forest. Of the two he carefully examined the 
 loads. They appeared satisfactory, for he noiselessly laid the 
 barrels across a log, and aimed each at a savage. The flicker 
 ing light of the camp fire revealed his calm but determined face. 
 Bang! Bang! The guns were fired almost simultaneously, kill 
 ing two of the savages outright. At the report the other three 
 sprang to their feet. McConnel rushed instantly to the spot 
 where he had hid the guns. As his enemies bounded towards 
 him, he fired again. The ball passed through the body of the 
 foremost Indian and wounded the one behind him. The fifth 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 395 
 
 and last savage instantly fled. McConnel clubbed the wounded 
 brave, shouldered his gun. and made his way home in safety. 
 The surviving Indian paused not till he reached his people. 
 Among them was a white captive, Mrs. Duulap. Afterward 
 she escaped, and told McConnel of this Indian's account of the 
 affair to his people. He related that he and his companions had 
 captured a fine young hunter at Lexington, and had brought him 
 as far as the Ohio ; that, while there encamped, a large party of 
 white men had fallen upon them in the night, and killed all his 
 companions, together with the defenseless prisoner, who lay 
 bound hand and foot, unable either to escape or resist. 
 
 A RACE FOR LIFE. 
 
 One July evening in 1781, as the tired harvesters of what 
 is Hardin County, Kentucky, were trudging to their cabins, a 
 war party of Indians burst into the settlement with wild yells, 
 murdered no less than twelve persons, and withdrew as swiftly 
 as they came. The stricken pioneers started in pursuit. In 
 their party was Peter Kennedy, a young Indian fighter, known 
 as the swiftest runner in Kentucky. This talent caused him to 
 be looked on as -a very brilliant fellow. In the fury of pursuit 
 the settlers ran into an ambuscade. Better had it been for the 
 anxious women and children, left behind in the cabins, if the 
 brave ones had never gone from them. The savages fired from 
 ambush, killing every white except * Kennedy. He jumped 
 behind a tree. As an Indian ran at him with uplifted toma 
 hawk, the runner fired, killed the savage, and ran. Nine rifles 
 were discharged. A ball in his leg disabled him. It also cost 
 him two years' captivity in the wigwams along the Wabash River 
 in Indiana. 
 
 The time came at last when his wound healed and his cap 
 tors were off their guard. He made his w^y to the Ohio River, 
 built a raft, and crossed it. He felt pret|ty safe. A fat deer 
 was shot by him, and, building a fire, he (proceeded to roast a 
 delicious haunch of venison. The savory iroast was just done, 
 
396 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 and the hungry man was putting the first rare morsel to his 
 lips, when a rifle was fired from the thicket, and Kennedy felt a 
 sharp sting on his leg. Hurt, but not disabled, he seized his gun 
 and started at the top of his speed for the mountains. Thirty 
 miles away was Gooden's Station. That point he must make. 
 
 The Indians started in hot pursuit. Now Kennedy sum 
 moned to his aid all the skill and endurance which had won his 
 fame as a runner. Up-hill, down-hill, through underbrush, over 
 fallen logs, across stony ground, and in the midst of quagmires, 
 he sped like an arrow. He gained on his pursuers. At the 
 end of five miles he was out of gun-shot. But still they fol 
 lowed. At the end of ten miles the perspiration streamed from 
 his brow. His face and neck were swollen till the blood seemed 
 ready to burst forth. Still he ran on without the least abate 
 ment of speed. Fifteen miles were accomplished. He found 
 himself at the summit of a ridge of hills, near Rolling Fort. 
 He paused for a moment. The pursuers were no longer in 
 sight. He leaned against a tree for a whole minute. This 
 seemed to refresh him immensely. 
 
 With redoubled speed he .bounded down the rugged hillside, 
 leaping from rock to rock, momentarily planting his flying feet 
 on spots which seemed to furnish no foothold. A vast plain 
 was before him. He was a mile from the ridge before he heard 
 the yells of his pursuers. He looked over his shoulder. They 
 had paused on the summit. At the moment Kennedy saw the 
 Indians they caught sight of him. Far away on the hill-top he 
 saw their gestures of rage outlined against the sky. Suddenly 
 they leaped down the slope as he had done. 
 
 Kennedy redoubled his exertions. Mile after mile was 
 accomplished. Hour after hour he maintained his terrific speed. 
 At times he could see his pursuers crossing the open country 
 two miles behind him. Once, losing sight of them, he thought 
 the pursuit was abandoned. He threw himself on the ground. 
 His limbs trembled violently. His chest heaved up and down 
 in convulsive respiration. In a moment more stupor would 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 397 
 
 have seized him. Just then the wind bore to his ears a faint 
 yell. They were .still after him, only much nearer. He had 
 not been able for an hour to hear their voices. 
 
 Once more he started. The speed was no longer so great. 
 His gate was stumbling and irregular. Twice he fell headlong 
 over trifling obstacles. But he was nearing his goal. Twenty- 
 five miles were completed. Kennedy again lost sight and sound 
 of his pursuers. Twenty-six miles they were hopelessly in 
 the rear. Twenty-seven miles the flaming disk of the after 
 noon sun sank behind the tree-tops. Twenty-eight miles Ken 
 nedy felt he had won the race. Thirty miles and he sank 
 exhausted, but victorious, on the floor of the fort. He gasped 
 out an explanation. A party was organized. Almost within 
 gunshot of the fort lay the savages. When discovered, they 
 tried to run. But their strength was exhausted. They had 
 run their race only to meet death at the end. 
 
 It was several weeks before Kennedy recovered from 
 the effects of his fearful exertions. His race is without parallel 
 in frontier chronicles. 
 
 A FIGHT IN A FOG. 
 
 Bryant's Station was a fort. It was on the bank of the 
 Elkhorn Creek, between Lexington and Maysville, Kentucky. 
 Being exposed and liable to frequent attack, it was strongly 
 built, containing forty cabins, in parallel rows, connected by 
 heavy palisades. From this shelter no man dared to venture 
 alone. The garrison of fifty men required food. But the hunt 
 ing parties never went out with less than twenty men. 
 
 It was in May, 1781, that such a party sallied forth, under 
 command of William Bryant. The men picked their way 
 cautiously through the overhanging branches of the forest. No 
 enemy was seen. A ravine, which had been the site of many 
 a bloody ambuscade, was passed in peace. What reason was 
 there for further caution ? Why not divide the party, sweep a 
 large tract of country, and, gather a heavy supply of game 
 
398 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 while they had the opportunity? Ten men, under James 
 Hogan, took the north bank of the creek and Bryant the south 
 bank. They were to meet and join camps at night-fall. Hogan's 
 men were proceeding on their way, when they were startled by 
 a loud cry of " Stop !" in good English. In their rear a party 
 of Indians was to be seen in rapid advance. 
 
 The whites at once turned loose a pack-horse, put spurs to 
 their animals, and galloped into the forest at a break -neck speed. 
 After a run of several miles they reined in, and held a hurried 
 consultation. That their flight had been premature was evident. 
 The* strength of the attacking party was unknown. Bryant's 
 men might be in great peril. To cross the creek, and lie in 
 ambush till the Indians came along, learn their numbers, then 
 either fight, join Bryant, or fly to the fort in case of overwhelm 
 ing force, seemed the best way to remedy the mistake. It 
 was three hours before the crunching of twigs across the creek 
 announced the footsteps of the enemy. 
 
 It was already night. The starlight revealed an Indian 
 starting to cross the stream. Hogan fired. There was a yell, 
 and a mighty splash of waters. The bullet had made its home 
 in his heart. At once all became still. After an hour's wait 
 ing, the hunters mounted and made their way to the fort. 
 Bryant and his little company were still out. Long before day 
 light, Hogan and his men, ashamed at their flight and anxious 
 about Bryant, started once more down the creek to join him. 
 The morning was very foggy. Objects were invisible at a dis 
 tance of ten feet. 
 
 While they were thus on their way, Bryant met with a sad 
 disaster. He had gone into camp the night before at the 
 appointed time, but Hogan came not. The men prepared and 
 ate their supper. They sat around the camp fire, speculating 
 anxiously on his absence. Usually, these hunting parties were 
 jolly crowds. The evenings in camp were filled with rough fun 
 and jokes. But on this evening the men were in no humor for 
 levity. The horses were picketed more closely than usual. 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 399 
 
 The men grouped themselves in a narrower circle. They talked 
 in anxious whispers. A dozen times Bryant left the circle and 
 went out into the forest to listen for Hogan's approach. As 
 many times he returned with his anxiety unallayed. It was far 
 in the night before the men rolled themselves in their buffalo 
 robes for sleep. 
 
 The night passed uneasily. In the morning the men rose, 
 and were preparing breakfast. Just then the faint tinkle of a 
 bell was heard through the fog. Every one listened. In a few 
 moments it was heard again. This time Bryant recognized it. 
 It was the bell of Hogan's pack-horse. Believing Hogan to 
 have missed the camp and to be wandering in the fog, Bryant 
 and Grant mounted their horses and rode to the spot where the 
 bell was still giving irregular tinkles. Just as they had about 
 reached it, a dozen Indians started up in the fog and fired. 
 Both men were wounded, Bryant mortally. The bell was the 
 bell from Hogan's pack-horse, which the Indians had captured. 
 But instead of being on the horse's neck, the bell was held by 
 a savage, and shaken slightly from time to time. Both men 
 retained their seats and managed to make their way to the 
 fort, where Bryant shortly expired. 
 
 The Indians at once charged on the camp, killed some, and 
 dispersed the rest. They proceeded to occupy the camp, and 
 lounged about the fire, smoking their tobacco. At this moment 
 Hogan's party rode upon them, unseen in the fog. The surprise 
 was equal. Each side sought shelter, and a sharp battle was 
 fought, lasting half an hour, at the end of which time the 
 Indians fled, leaving several dead behind them. The camp 
 trappings of Bryant's party were found by Hogan in the camp. 
 His suspicions were at once aroused concerning the fate of their 
 owners. After a vain search for them, he and his men sadly 
 returned to the fort, to find their worst apprehensions realized. 
 Bryant, the leader of the fort, the man for whom it was named, 
 the hero of a hundred fights, was lying cold in death amid the 
 corpses of the men who fell in the same attack. 
 
400 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 A SETTLEE'S SELF-DEFENSE. 
 
 Not in Kentucky alone, but throughout the length of the 
 Ohio valley, raged the conflict with the red man. David Mor 
 gan occupied a cabin on the Monongahela River, several miles 
 from the nearest neighbor. He was seventy years of age, but 
 still braved the dangers of his situation. 
 
 One morning two of his younger children went to plow a 
 field a mile away from the cabin. Morgan became uneasy from 
 some cause, and taking his trusty rifle, determined to go to 
 them. He found the boys all right. Taking a seat on the top 
 rail of the worm fence, he was giving some directions about the 
 work, when he suddenly became aware of the fact that he and 
 his children were not alone. In the edge of the forest he per 
 ceived two Indians gliding stealthily and rapidly upon the boys. 
 Morgan called to the latter to fly to the house. For himself, he 
 determined to cover their retreat. The children, having twa 
 hundred yards the start, and being fleet runners, were soon out 
 of reach. 
 
 The old man also ran with considerable activity for a short 
 distance, but as his strength failed, his pursuers gained on him. 
 He turned at bay, to contend with the two powerful and well- 
 armed savages. The woods were thin. Morgan planted him 
 self behind the only large tree in the locality. His pursuers 
 instantly sought cover behind some saplings, but old Morgan r 
 seeing a little of the person of the nearest savage exposed, fired 
 with unerring skill and killed him. The other Indian at once 
 rushed on Morgan, w r hose gun was of course empty. The lat 
 ter ran, but in a moment his pursuer, less than twenty steps 
 behind him, fired. By great fortune, the ball missed its mark. 
 Morgan again turned at bay, clubbing his musket, while the 
 Indian raised his tomahawk. Both blows took effect, the gun 
 stock being broken on the Indian's skull, and the tomahawk, 
 shattered by striking the gun-barrel, having cut off two of 
 Morgan's fingers. The savage reached for his knife, but the 
 old man grappled with him, hurling him to the ground. 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 401 
 
 An awful struggle took place, but the youth and superior 
 strength of the Indian availed to turn Morgan. The savage 
 planted his knee on his opponent's breast, and again reached 
 for his knife. Again his luck turned. He had lately stolen a 
 woman's apron. It was tied around his waist, covering the 
 knife handle, so he could not readily get at it. Old Morgan, 
 however, was game to the last. He managed to get one of the 
 savage's fingers between his teeth. This maneuver caused the 
 Indian to howl with rage, and struggle furiously to get loose, 
 but Morgan's jaws were locked on that finger with the grip of 
 a steel vise. 
 
 Seizing his little advantage, Morgan reached for the Indian's 
 knife himself. Both grasped it at the same instant, Morgan 
 getting a small grip on the handle, the savage a better one on 
 the blade. At this juncture, Morgan gave the finger a terrific 
 bite, and with swift dexterity twitched the knife out of his 
 adversary's hand. Quick as thought he plunged it into the 
 Indian's side, then into his stomach, blade, handle, and all. The 
 latter fell over on his side. 
 
 Old Morgan rose, greatly exhausted by the exertion and 
 excitement of the struggle, and feebly made his way home. A 
 party of neighbors was raised within an hour or two, who found 
 that the old man's antagonist had crawled some little distance 
 to a clump of bushes. When discovered, he held out his hand, 
 and feebly uttered " Brothers ! " The whites, however, failed to 
 acknowledge this claim of relationship. He was killed, scalped, 
 and skinned, the hide being tanned by the settlers for bul 
 let-pouches. 
 
 AN AMERICAN MEG MERRILES. 
 
 The genius of Walter Scott has immortalized the character 
 of old Meg Merriles throughout the world. Her character was 
 drawn from life, the original being a certain Jean Gordon, a 
 famous gypsy of the Scottish border. Great novelists must 
 have appropriate subject-matter on which to base their stories. 
 The border lore and legendry from which Scott drew his treas- 
 
402 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ure, is popularly supposed to be unparalleled. Nowhere is the 
 error of this notion, to which we have called attention in our 
 preface, better shown than in the fact that in the conflict of the 
 Ohio valley, there arose a woman, if such she might be called, 
 more remarkable in career, more strange and wild in character, 
 than Jean Gordon ever was. " Mad Ann Bailey," as she was 
 known among the settlers, though of vastly different origin and 
 surroundings, bears a general resemblance to the immortal Meg 
 Merriles of " Guy Mannering." 
 
 The strange creature of whom we write was born in Liver 
 pool, England, about 1750. Her maiden name was Hennis; her 
 husband being Richard Trotter. Along with other adventurous 
 spirits of the time, she and her husband emigrated to America, 
 and, as if by instinct, sought the perils and excitement of bor 
 der life. Trotter was an Indian fighter. He became a volun 
 teer in Dunmore's war, and was killed in the bloody battle of 
 Point Pleasant. From that day his widow lead that strange 
 career which spread her name far and wide through the bor 
 der settlements, and which will perpetuate it so long as the 
 stories of the border struggles are read among men. 
 
 Thenceforth she followed but one pursuit that of fighting 
 the Indians. She unsexed herself, wore men's clothes, and 
 instead of household tasks, she took upon herself the toilsome 
 life of a scout. She became a dead-shot with a rifle. She 
 learned to throw the tomahawk with all the accuracy and 
 strength of an Indian warrior. As a hunter, she had no supe 
 rior on the border. Wherever prizes were offered in contests in 
 rifle shooting, tomahawk throwing, or other athletic sports, far 
 or near along the border, this strange and solitary woman 
 always appeared at the last moment as a contestant, and carried 
 off the prize. She rode a powerful black horse, called " Liver 
 pool," after her birthplace. It was the only living creature she 
 loved. Her horse and rifle were her constant companions. 
 
 She spent her time as other scouts, roaming the forests in 
 search of game, or stealthily watching in ambush for some wan- 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 403 
 
 dering Indian. Amid storms of rain and sleet, beset by the 
 rigors of winter, followed by wild beasts, or pursued by Indians, 
 her immense frame of iron strength knew no fatigue, her rest 
 less rancor no slumber. As she bestrode her horse, her male 
 attire, her weather-beaten features, her black, wiry hair, cut 
 short in men's fashion, her cold, gray eyes and grating voice, 
 her rifle easily thrown over her shoulder, revealed the AMAZON. 
 No service in behalf of the settlers was too arduous, no mode 
 of injury to the savages too cruel or bloody for her fierce zeal. 
 
 The story of one incident has come down to us. She 
 was making her head-quarters at Charleston Fort, in West Vir 
 ginia, when the fort was besieged by an overwhelming force of 
 Indians. Unable to subdue it by force, the besiegers undertook 
 to reduce it by famine. The brave pioneers defended it reso 
 lutely until their hearts were chilled to find the supply of 
 ammunition nearly exhausted. The nearest point from which 
 supplies could be had was more than a hundred miles away. 
 The way lay through dense forests, bottomless morasses, vast 
 ranges of mountains, terrible precipices, and rushing rivers. 
 Worse than all this, the whole country was overrun with war- 
 parties of savages. Great as was the peril of the fort, great as 
 was the peril of the journey, this bold woman alone would 
 undertake the task of procuring supplies. Avoiding all trails, 
 roads, and regular passes, she took her way directly across the 
 mountains of West Virginia for more than a hundred miles. 
 
 Reaching her destination in safety, she procured lead and 
 gunpowder, loaded it on a pack-horse, and commenced the fear 
 ful return journey. Followed by raving packs of wolves, at 
 every step beset by hissing serpents which still infest the mount 
 ains of Virginia, discovered and pursued by Indians, hardly 
 daring to sleep a moment, she recrossed the mountains by a 
 different route, swam her two beasts across foaming mountain 
 torrents, and, after exposure to every conceivable peril, and 
 escape from all, delivered her precious load to the beleaguered 
 garrison. This service became famous throughout the border. 
 
404 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 On- her return she again took her place among the resolute 
 defenders of the fort, doing guard duty, or sharing in the fray 
 of every attack. 
 
 At some period in her career, this strange, unsexed creature, 
 with her disordered intellect, was actually wooed and won by a 
 man named Bailey, but this marriage made no change in her life, 
 except that, instead of being known as " Mad Ann," she was 
 thereafter " Mad Ann Bailey." Her numerous services to the 
 settlers caused her to be as much loved by the whites as she was 
 feared and hated by the Indians. In the latter part of her life, 
 when times had become more settled, she used at times to 
 visit the families she had known and served in her earlier 
 years. From such visits she never failed to return laden down 
 with presents. 
 
 THE GREAT FIGHT OF POE AND BIG FOOT. 
 
 ""No man ever took more satisfaction in hunting deer, bear, 
 wolves, and buffalo than I have, but the greatest enjoyment I 
 ever took was in hunting Indians." The speaker was an old 
 man, of gigantic frame and shrunken muscles. He sat by an 
 open fire-place, with its great andirons and blazing back-logs. 
 Around him sat a group of younger people, his family and 
 friends. A hush was upon the little circle. The old man was 
 still quivering with excitement, as if he had gone through some 
 violent exertion far beyond his strength. He had sat silent for 
 a few moments, as if recovering his breath, and then uttered the 
 sentence given above. 
 
 The old man was Andrew Poe, a man whose name was 
 known in every cabin in the Ohio valley during the twenty 
 years' conflict. His excitement and apparent exhaustion had a 
 cause. He had just been relating to the company for the hun 
 dredth time the thrilling story of his fight with Big Foot. As 
 he set himself afloat in the current of the story, he illustrated 
 it by action. He went through all the fury and effort of a 
 death-struggle with an imaginary adversary. Not a detail of 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 405 
 
 the fight had been omitted. With flashing eye, tense and 
 knotted muscles, almost choked with frothing rage, he had 
 re-enacted the scene with all the spirit of the original conflict, 
 for the benefit of the little group. 
 
 We have entered the room too late to hear the old man tell 
 it himself, too late to see him reproduce the conflict in all its 
 vividness. All we can do is to learn the story from others who 
 heard old Poe relate it. 
 
 In 1781, there stood on Harmon's Creek, twelve miles back 
 from the Ohio River, in what is Washington County, Pennsyl 
 vania, a small settlement of white people. 
 
 Among the settlers were two brothers, Andrew Poe, then 
 thirty-nine years of age, and his brother Adam, six years 
 younger. The elder was a man of large build and splendid 
 muscular development. He and his brother were both Indian 
 fighters, and were looked on as the chief defenders of the set 
 tlement. Andrew, especially, by reason of his great strength, 
 his matchless agility, and rare courage, was the pride of the 
 valley. In the spring of the year of which we write, the set 
 tlement, in common with the rest of the valley, had suffered 
 heavily from Indian attacks. On one occasion, while the Poes 
 and their nearest neighbor, Kennedy, were off on a scout, a 
 party of Indians had burst into Kennedy's house, and murdered 
 his young wife and child. 
 
 A short time afterwards, probably in June, a band of seven 
 bloody Wyandots stole into the settlement at midnight, broke 
 into a lonely cabin, in which lived William Jackson, all alone. 
 He was an old man, sixty years of age. Having made 
 Jackson a captive, they attempted to enter another house, but 
 aroused the inmates, who gave the alarm. The seven Indians 
 made off with their prisoner. The men of the settlement were 
 quickly collected. Jackson was discovered to be missing. 
 
 Arrangements were made for pursuit. In the morning, as 
 soon as it was light enough to see the trail of the marauders, 
 which was tolerably distinct in the high dewy grass, the settlers 
 
406 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 set out to save their friend. Twelve of them rode at full speed 
 toward the river. At the top of a steep descent to the river, 
 down which the trail led, the horses were hitched, and the men 
 pressed forward on foot. At the foot of the hill the trail turned 
 down the river. It led across a shallow rivulet that entered the 
 Ohio. The waters of the stream were muddied. They had 
 been recently disturbed. Andrew Poe called the attention of 
 the men to it, as a suggestion that the game was near. He had 
 been convinced by the indications of the trail that the Indians 
 were led by a person no less distinguished than the renowned 
 "Big Foot," chief of the Wyandots, so called from the size of 
 his feet, which, however, were not out of proportion to his 
 immense stature and Herculean proportions. 
 
 Poe was not unwilling to measure his strength with such a 
 famous adversary, should opportunity occur. For some reason, 
 after crossing the rivulet, while the others followed the trail 
 leading away from the river bank, Poe turned to his right, and 
 kept on alone through some heavy willows along the shore. 
 Suddenly he discovered, about twelve feet below him on the 
 slope toward the water, two Indians, crouching behind a small 
 bluff or elevation in the river bank. They had guns cocked 
 .and were looking intently towards a spot from which they had 
 heard a noise. One Indian was of enormous size, and Poe at 
 once conjectured that he was no other than Big Foot. The 
 other, though smaller, was fully the equal of Poe, who was 
 himself the boast of the settlements. 
 
 To take in the situation at a glance, to level his gun at the 
 breast of Big Foot, and draw the trigger was the work of an 
 instant. But the much vaunted weapons of the pioneers were 
 clumsy affairs to those of to-day. The gun missed fire. The 
 Indians yelled. Poe hastily drew back into the bushes. Just 
 then the rest of the party had overtaken the other five Indians 
 a hundred yards down the river. The shots momentarily 
 attracted the attention of Poe's adversaries. He a second time 
 attempted to fire. 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 407 
 
 A second time, as if reluctant for its task, the gun missed 
 fire. Poe flung it down, boldly jumped over the bluff, throw 
 ing one arm around Big Foot's neck, and the other around his 
 companion, throwing both to the ground by his weight and 
 momentum. Big Foot fell on his back, with Poe on top of him, 
 on his left side, his left arm around the Indian's neck. The 
 smaller Indian fell to the right of the other two, but with 
 his head caught in the vise-like grip of Poe's right upper arm 
 and side. From this embarrassing situation the smaller savage 
 struggled to withdraw his head, but in vain. 
 
 Poe felt that in order to save his life he must kill one of his 
 opponents, before either disengaged himself from him. If one 
 of them should get free while he still held down the other, he 
 saw little hope. To kill Big Foot, however, he must get at his 
 knife. This was in its scabbard,, pressed tightly between his 
 left side and Big Foot's body. Nor could he use more than his 
 fore right arm in his effort to disengage it. He pulled and 
 tugged frenziedly to get the knife out, but Big Foot's hand was 
 also on it. While Poe and his larger antagonist tugged at the 
 knife, the other lunged and twisted to free himself. At last 
 Poe gave a furious wrench to the knife, and Big Foot suddenly 
 letting go, the weapon came out suddenly. ' Poe's arm pulling 
 at the knife, and unexpectedly released, jerked back, releasing 
 the smaller Indian from its grip, the knife at the same time 
 slipping from Poe's fingers, and flying into the river. 
 
 Almost at the same moment Big Foot threw his long arm 
 about Poe, and hugged with all his strength. The latter strug 
 gled to free himself. The smaller Indian overlooking, or, per 
 haps, for fear of shooting Big Foot, afraid to use a cocked gun 
 lying just at Poe's head, ran to a canoe, ten feet away, seized 
 a tomahawk, and running back, gave a terrific hack at Poe's 
 head. The latter, however, though still a prisoner in the iron 
 embrace of Big Foot, managed, just as the Indian delivered the 
 stroke, to give his wrist a terrific kick with his right foot, divert- 
 ing the blow, and flinging the tomahawk into the river. 
 
408 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 At this Big Foot bellowed furiously at his companion in his 
 own tongue. The latter procured the other tomahawk, and, care 
 fully avoiding Poe's heels, again struck at him. This time Poe 
 threw up his right arm, received the blow in his wrist, one bone 
 and the cords of three fingers being cut, and the hand practi 
 cally disabled. Giving his arm a jerk, the tomahawk, which 
 was caught in the sinews, was snatched from the Indian's hand, 
 and Poe in turn threw it into the river. 
 
 At this moment Big Foot's embrace relaxed. Poe tore him- 
 self loose, snatching up the cocked gun with his left hand as he 
 rose, and in a moment shot the smaller Indian through the body. 
 Just as the builet left the barrel, Big Foot, who had risen only 
 less quickly than Poe, seized him by the neck and leg, and 
 pitched him toward the river as if he were a chip. Poe, how 
 ever, could not be excelled for activity. Though too late to 
 prevent this, he threw his left hand back, caught the Indian's 
 buckskin breech clout firmly, and, as he fell, dragged Big Foot 
 with him over the bank into the river. 
 
 The water was deep. Each man struggled with unearthly 
 fury to drown the other. The water was lashed into angry 
 foam by their conflict. First one and then the other obtained 
 the advantage. At last, Poe got his fingers on the Indian's 
 scalp-lock, and held him under, as he supposed, till he was 
 strangled. But the Indian had deceived him by keeping quiet. 
 As Poe let go the scalp-lock to get his knife and end the 
 contest, the latter seized Poe, and in turn put him under. 
 
 But Poe was still full of resources ; though half strangled, he 
 managed to struggle toward deeper water. The current seized 
 them, carried both beyond their depth, and the Indian, as well 
 as Poe, was obliged to let go his hold and swim for life. There 
 was yet one loaded gun on shore. To get that weapon each 
 adversary put forth every exertion. Poor Poe, however, hav 
 ing only one hand to swim with, saw Big Foot beating him in 
 the race. He therefore turned again to mid-stream, intending to 
 dive. Big Foot gained the shore, picked up the loaded gun, but 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 409 
 
 in cocking it broke the hammer. Throwing it down he snatched 
 the empty rifle, and ran to the canoe for ammunition. 
 
 At this moment Adam Poe came running down the shore, to 
 find out what was the matter. Andrew shouted to him to 
 "shoot the big Indian on shore." Adam's gun was empty. 
 Just as Big Foot was loading his gun, Adam began the same 
 act with his. Each felt that his life depended on completing 
 the charge first. Big Foot would inevitably have been ready to 
 fire first, had not another mishap befallen him. In withdrawing 
 his ramrod too hastily, it slipped from his hand. The time it 
 took to pick it up gave Adam Poe the advantage. Just as Big 
 Foot raised his gun, Poe fired, and killed him. 
 
 The fight was ended, but not its mishaps. Another white 
 man following Adam Poe down the bank, seeing that the latter 
 had shot an Indian on shore, and perceiving Andrew Poe, with 
 bloody face, swimming rapidly from the shore, mistook him for 
 an Indian, fired and shot him in the shoulder. Adam Poe, 
 alarmed for his brother, started to swim to his help, but the lat 
 ter shouted to him to let him alone, and "scalp the Indian." 
 Adam, however, refused, thinking more of his brother's safety 
 than of the trophy. Big Foot, mortally wounded, exerted his 
 failing strength to roll himself into the river and keep his tri 
 umphant antagonist from winning the glory of taking Big Foot's 
 scalp. As the two brothers started to the shore, the swift cur 
 rent of the Ohio swept the body of Big Foot, scalp and all, 
 out of sight. 
 
 It may be easily understood how the story of this fight 
 spread throughout the border settlements, and , made Andrew 
 Poe the most famous man in his part of the country. 
 
 FIVE KENTUCKY BOYS AND THEIR PLUCK. 
 
 It is easy to see what sort of men the pioneers were. But 
 what about the children ? ^Nothing is more interesting than the 
 influence of border life upon boys. There is something in it 
 which summons forth all the latent heroism of the youthful 
 
410 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 heart. We yet see this trait in the boys of our Middle and 
 Western States. Books of adventure, of pioneering, of Indian 
 fights, of explorations, form their chosen literature. No matter 
 how quiet and attentive they may be in school, one may be cer 
 tain that stuffed away in some corner of their desk is a dog 
 eared book of adventure, a book in which scouts perform impos 
 sible exploits, in which one man whips a dozen red Indians, 
 and rescues a pretty girl whom they have made a captive; in 
 which abound hair-breadth escapes, and bold adventures of boys 
 of their own age, who either by chance or by choice live in 
 that mysterious and wonderful region known as THE BORDER. 
 
 Many of these books no doubt are vicious. We pause not 
 to moralize. We simply call attention to the fact that this 
 appetite for adventure is in a boy, in such strength, that no 
 vigilance of parents, nor instruction of teachers can prevent him 
 from gratifying it. He will have and will read books of adven 
 ture the best, the worst. " The Last of the Mohicans," and 
 "Long Haired Jack, the Mountain Avenger," alike. If there is 
 a public library in the community, it is the books of this sort 
 which are seized and read with appalling voracity. If not, then 
 each boy furtively lends his treasure to every other boy, until 
 the worn volume has gone the rounds, whereupon, if no other 
 be at hand, the same book is read over again. Whence conies 
 this appetite? Is it not an inheritance from our fathers who 
 fought the wars of the real border, and which is only over 
 whelmed and destroyed by contact with the practical side 
 of life ? 
 
 Let it be remembered that America has been colonized and 
 populated by the boldest spirits of every clime, men and women 
 who spurned the quiet comfort of their homes in the "old coun 
 try," and chose rather the excitement and dangers of the wil 
 derness. Then we may understand how natural it is for the 
 American boy to love books of adventure. Then we may see 
 whence comes that restless longing, which, unsatisfied with the 
 quiet life of home, and the rigid discipline of school in short, 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 411 
 
 finding no scope or outlet in real life seeks vent and gratifica 
 tion in imaginary adventures and exploits. 
 
 The children of the pioneers were offspring worthy of their 
 sires. It was about 1785 that a group of five Kentucky boys 
 afforded a splendid illustration of this. Colonel Pope was a 
 leading citizen in a settlement near Louisville, Kentucky. Feel 
 ing keenly the total absence of educational facilities for his two 
 sons on the frontier, he employed a tutor for them. He gen 
 erously invited several of the neighbor's lads to share the privi 
 leges of instruction. Among them were two sons of Colonel 
 Linn, a famous scout, who had been killed by Indians. To 
 them Colonel Pope sustained the relation of guardian. 
 
 The little school had no session on Saturdays. On these 
 days the boys were accustomed to have their fun. One Satur 
 day in February five of these school-boys went out for a hunt. 
 In the party were the two Linns, William Wells, Brashear, and 
 a fifth whose name is not preserved. They were little fellows, 
 ranging from ten to fourteen years old. Yet they were marks 
 men who might well put to blush many of the best shots of the 
 present day. They made a trip of several miles from home, to 
 a region of ponds and swamps, in which abounded ducks, geese, 
 and swans. They had a rare day, and, delaying until too late 
 to return home, they decided to encamp for the night on the 
 spot. As to the proper method of building a hut and spread 
 ing boughs for their beds, they were thoroughly posted. Dur 
 ing the night a light snow covered the ground. 
 
 Rising early, they prepared their breakfast, and made ready 
 to return home, when suddenly a party of Indians "burst into 
 their little camp with unearthly yells. Two of the boys 
 attempted to run. Of these, the elder Linn being fat and 
 clumsy, and encumbered with some game he had hung over his 
 shoulder, stumbled and fell. For this the Indians called him 
 "Fat Bear." Brashear, however, was fleet of foot, and came 
 near escaping. He, however, like all the rest, was captured, 
 but his agility won him the name of " Buck Elk." 
 
 23 
 
412 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Having secured their boy captives, the Indians demanded to 
 know where they came from. " From Louisville," said Brash- 
 ear. "You lie," was the gentle response of the leading Indian. 
 But the boys stuck to the falsehood, and by their sagacity and 
 firmness prevented the savages from advancing upon the defense 
 less settlement in which they lived. 
 
 When they found themselves prisoners the boys took it 
 coolly enough. Their captors at once started on the journey to 
 their distant wigwams. They crossed the Ohio River and 
 moved northward through what is the State of Indiana. Every 
 day took the five plucky little fellows farther from home, and 
 decreased their chances for rescue. Yet they kept quiet, ate 
 heartily of the game and other food provided by the Indians, 
 and above all remained cheerful. Their journey did not end 
 till they reached an Indian village on the Little Calumet River, 
 near the present town of Valparaiso, in north-western Indiana. 
 
 On entering the village they were compelled to run the 
 gauntlet. This, however, they knew exactly how to do, having 
 heard about it all their lives, and having prepared themselves in 
 mind for the ordeal. Two rows of Indian boys, some smaller, 
 many larger than themselves, were drawn up. The young 
 Indians had their hands full of clubs, tomahawks, dirt, salt, 
 and stones. 
 
 At the word, away dashed the five spirited little Kentuck- 
 ians at the top of their speed. They were met with showers 
 of filth, missiles, and blows, but by rapid running and skillful 
 dodging, they were in a fair way to get through all right. Just 
 as the younger Linn, who was in front, was three-quarters down 
 the pmks of howling redskins, an Indian boy, much larger than 
 himself, hit him a stunning blow with his fist. Linn was a hot- 
 blooded and fiery-tempered fellow at best. Resenting the insult 
 with all the fury of his impetuous nature, he knocked the ruffian 
 down by a left-handed stroke. At this clever feat, the assem 
 bled crowd of warriors gave vent to a huge uproar of laughter, 
 but the squaws sympathized with their own blood. 
 
stfK.- '- KjM; ^BTFj 
 
 i 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 415 
 
 Young Linn quickly planted himself with his back to the 
 council-house, and with clenched fists uplifted, and his eyes 
 blazing with rage through his heavy, tangled hair, which in the 
 melee had fallen over his forehead, awaited the onslaught which 
 he knew was sure to come. A large and brawny young Indian, 
 with a sinister countenance, ran at him. Linn received him 
 with the same left-handed stroke which had been so effective 
 before, and knocking him down, sprang on him with the ferocity 
 of a panther, kicking, biting, pinching, and pounding till, in a 
 moment, his formidable foe was completely demoralized. 
 
 The ring of warriors shouted and danced with delight at 
 this sport, which was so much better than any gauntlet running. 
 But the whole crowd of juvenile Indians, seeing their champions 
 vanquished, now became pugnacious, and rushed upon him to 
 demolish him. At this, the other four Kentuckians came to 
 their friend's rescue, and fought the howling mass of Indian 
 youth with the fury of tigers turned at bay. They fought 
 against great odds, but being far superior to their enemies in 
 athletic and pugilistic skill, they overthrew them one by one, 
 until the rest were glad to run off. 
 
 The warriors here intervened, and proudly carried the boys 
 into the council-house, to be adopted into the tribe as Indians. 
 Four of the boys were adopted into the families of the leading 
 warriors of the village. Poor Wells, however, fell to the lot 
 of an Indian living in a remote village. With sad hearts the 
 boys parted from him as he went from them, and they never 
 saw him again. For many years he lived with the Indians, 
 marrying a sister of -Little Turtle, one of their celebrated chiefs, 
 and fighting with his tribe against the whites. He afterwards 
 rejoined the whites, and became a noted scout under General 
 Wayne. 
 
 The other boys, becoming gradually accustomed to the loss 
 of their friend, rapidly adapted themselves toward their new 
 mode of life. They soon excelled in all Indian sports, and 
 seemed so well satisfied with the pleasures of savage life, fish- 
 
416 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ing and hunting, wrestling, racing, riding Indian ponies, and 
 romping with the maidens, that their captors no longer enter 
 tained any suspicion of their disloyalty, and they were allowed 
 to roam about as they pleased. The boys, however, were play 
 ing a deep game, and were only biding their time to escape. 
 
 The chance came at last. In the autumn after their capture 
 the warriors went off on their annual hunt, roaming far and 
 wide over the country in quest of game, leaving the village 
 inhabited only by old men, squaws, and children. One day the 
 four boys arranged to go fishing some miles from the village. 
 An old Indian and his wife alone accompanied them. 
 
 The boys felt this to be their opportunity for escape. But 
 a serious problem had first to be solved. Did they dare to 
 leave the old Indian and his squaw alive ? The struggle in 
 their minds was painful. The old people were kind to them in 
 their way. To kill them seemed terrible. Yet to leave them 
 alive meant speedy discovery of their flight, pursuit, and prob 
 ably recapture, as the long journey to their homes lay through 
 a wilderness of which they were ignorant, while their pursuers 
 were thoroughly familiar with it. These boys, it must be 
 remembered, had been brought up to regard the Indians as 
 their most abhorred enemies. Frontier life was a constant war 
 fare with them. The father of two of them had been killed by 
 savages only four years before. These things decided them. 
 
 At dead of night the boys rose stealthily, armed themselves 
 with tomahawks, and two of them placed themselves at the head 
 of each sleeping Indian. At a signal from Brashear, they all 
 struck at the skulls of the sleepers, killing them instantly. 
 Hastily collecting the little stock of provisions in the camp, the 
 boys set out in the darkness for home. Happy thought ! With 
 the skill of a band of Indian warriors themselves, they pursued 
 their flight, traveling by night, guiding their course by the 
 north star, lying by, hid in bushes and deep grass by day. 
 They subsisted on nuts, wild berries, roots, and occasionally a 
 squirrel or rabbit, which they succeeded in killing with a stone. 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. , 417 
 
 Their journey lay through a vast wilderness of gloomy 
 swamps, lonely forests, solitary rivers, and silent prairies, which 
 is now thickly populated with the citizens of Indiana. Their 
 journey must have taken them over the site of the present 
 splendid city of Indianapolis, the capital of the State, a city 
 of fine public buildings, of wide, well-paved and brilliantly 
 lighted streets and avenues, lined with tall business blocks, a 
 city with miles of elegant residences, with numerous churches, 
 handsome theaters, large manufacturing establishments, modern 
 school-houses, and more railways than any other strictly interior 
 city on the globe. The site of all this was, at the time of 
 the boys' journey, a bottomless marsh. Besides this, our young 
 heroes' path led them through the sites of innumerable flour 
 ishing county towns, such as Loganspoft, Franklin, Columbus, 
 Seymour, New Albany, and Jeffersonville. Yet, in all their 
 journey, they saw not a white man's clearing, nor a single cabin, 
 nor a settlement. 
 
 After a three weeks' journey, they reached the shores of the 
 Ohio, opposite Louisville. Here they tried by shouts and ges 
 tures to induce their friends to come over for them. But the 
 Indians had been very troublesome that summer, and moreover, 
 the young pioneers were dressed and disguised until they looked 
 for all the world like four young Indians. So the good people 
 of Louisville remained on their own side. 
 
 Nothing disheartened the boys went up the river some dis 
 tance, and, with no tool but a small knife, constructed a raft. 
 Their haste to finish it was so great, and the thing was so rick 
 ety, that it would only bear the weight of three. The elder 
 Linn, being a splendid swimmer, swam by its side while the 
 others paddled. In this way they reached the Kentucky 
 shore. Just as they landed, their pursuers appeared on the 
 opposite shore, mad with rage at their escape. Linn was nearly 
 exhausted by his long swim in the chilly waters. But they 
 soon found Colonel Pope, who had been driven from his settle 
 ment by Indians, and was living in Louisville. He gave them 
 
 < 
 
418 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a hearty welcome, supplied their wants, and listened to their 
 thrilling story with the joy of a loving father. The only cloud 
 in the sky was the absence of poor Wells, whose fate remained 
 unknown to his companions. 
 
 WHO WAS HE? 
 
 It was one morning in 1780, that the inmates of a cabin in 
 what is Bourbon County, Kentucky, were startled by strange 
 yells from the outside. The door was slightly opened, and, 
 while no person was in sight, the yells were discovered to 'pro 
 ceed from a dense clump of underbrush. The bushes were vio 
 lently shaken, and in a moment there stepped into view a man. 
 His features were European, but his complexion, costume, and 
 speech were Indian. He continued to jabber in a loud voice, 
 rolling his eyes and gesticulating in a frightful manner. In 
 a short time all the people in the little settlement had formed 
 in a circle around him. 
 
 From his jargon, the settlers, who knew a little of the 
 Indian language, made out that, when a little child, he had 
 been captured by the Indians and had been reared by them ; 
 that of his home or parents he remembered nothing ; that he had 
 gone out on a hunt with his Indian father and brothers, and 
 had accidentally come within sight of the white men's cabins. 
 The view had acted like a magician's wand. In an instant all 
 the associations and attachments of the long years of life in the 
 wigwam had been swept away. He was seized with an over 
 whelming desire to rejoin the people of his birth, and now he 
 begged them to receive him. His Indian father would miss him, 
 but he wanted to rejoin the white people, and, if possible, learn 
 something of his own birth and parentage. 
 
 The settlers conversed in a low tone among themselves, and, 
 fearful lest he should be a decoy, asked him many questions. 
 Among other things he said that he and his companions had 
 ascended the Licking River in a canoe, and burying it, had 
 struck into the woods. The cautious pioneers, therefore, as a 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 419 
 
 test of the truth of his story, proposed that he conduct them 
 to the spot where the canoe lay concealed. 
 
 As soon as he understood the request, the stranger protested 
 most vehemently against it. He said, that while he desired to 
 leave his Indian father and brother, yet they had raised him 
 and been very kind to him for many years ; that they were the 
 only friends he could remember having ever had, and he would 
 not on any account betray them. The suspicion of the group 
 of listeners deepened at this answer. They demanded that he 
 lead them to the canoe at once, or they would treat him as a 
 prisoner. With the strongest reluctance he set out to guide the 
 company of twenty mounted men to the buried canoe. 
 
 Perhaps, with the hope of giving his Indian friends time to 
 escape, the wild stranger nervously explained that he would 
 first lead the white men to a spot where he and his father and 
 brother had encamped, and where he said they would find a 
 kettle hidden in a hollow log. As they approached the spot 
 from a distance they discovered two Indians in the camp, an 
 old man and a boy, sitting by the fire, roasting some venison. 
 At the sight the stranger burst into tears, and falling on his 
 knees, begged and implored the white men in the most vehement 
 and frenzied manner, to spare his Indian father and brother. 
 
 Moved by his entreaties, the pioneers formed a circle to sur 
 round the two Indians, with the notion, real or pretended, of 
 taking them captive. The old man, however, fought with such 
 desperation that they killed him, while the boy, with incredible 
 agility, escaped into the forest. Seeing the old Indian fall, the 
 stranger leaped from his horse, and running, threw his arms 
 around the neck of the dying savage, begging his forgiveness 
 for having unwittingly betrayed him to death. The aged Indian 
 evidently recognized him, giving him a pressure of the hand, 
 but he was too far gone to speak. 
 
 The settlers at once called loudly to the stranger to lead 
 them at a gallop to the buried canoe. He wrung his hands in 
 bitter agony, begging them to see that he had already given 
 
420 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 proof of his honesty at the cost of his father's death, and 
 beseeching that they might spare his younger brother. The 
 only response was a peremptory demand to lead them to the 
 canoe without delay. They rightly surmised that the young 
 Indian would hasten thither. Overwhelmed with grief, the 
 stranger again mounted his horse. In two hours they reached 
 the spot. No footprints were visible. The young Indian had 
 not arrived. 
 
 The men at once hid themselves in the bushes to wait. In 
 ten minutes the young savage came running to the spot, and 
 commenced hastily to dig up the canoe. In a moment he fell, 
 pierced by a dozen balls. With a mournful cry the strange 
 white man hid his face in his hands. They took him back to 
 the settlement, but he mourned all the day long, saying over 
 and over to himself in the Indian tongue, "I betrayed my best 
 friends. I killed my father. I killed my brother. Oh, me!" 
 
 One morning the strange and unhappy man was missing. 
 He appears only for this single act in the drama of history. 
 That act is tragedy. Whether he sought out the white settle 
 ments of the east, or returned to the smoky wigwam which he 
 had deprived of both its support and its hope, or whether, mad 
 dened with grief, Judas like, he went out into the solitary wil 
 derness, and there, alone with his God, expiated his crime with 
 the act of self-destruction, will never be known. 
 
 THE FIEST CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 Horse-stealing is in the frontier code the worst of all crimes. 
 This is because it is the one against which there is the least 
 protection. In the spring of 1784, a small Kentucky settlement 
 suffered this depredation from Indians. The pursuing party 
 failed to overtake the thieves. Three of the pursuers, all hot- 
 blooded fellows, named McClure, Davis, and Caffree, determined 
 to push on south to some Indian village, make reprisals of other 
 horses, and thus balance the account. 
 
 One day, traveling along a trail, the three white men fell in 
 
 * 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 421 
 
 with three Indians. It was in the vicinity of the Tennessee 
 River, probably south of it, and near an Indian village called 
 Chicacaugo, or Chicamaugo. It seems not improbable that this 
 was near the field of the great battle of Chickamauga, in the civil 
 war, to which the name was given from the creek near which it 
 was fought. The two parties were equal in numbers. After 
 a moment's thought each seemed to come to the same conclu 
 sion. Instead of fighting, they made signs of friendship, and 
 agreed to travel together. The three white men walked in sin 
 gle file on one side of the path; the three Indians walked in 
 single file on the opposite side of the path. 
 
 For a while this interesting procession held its way along 
 the forest trail without incident or delay. It was observed at the 
 end of a quarter of an hour that the Indians were marching very 
 close together. Moreover they were, without turning their 
 heads, whispering to one another. The white men saw danger. 
 Each selected his man. Caifree, the most powerful of the party, 
 leaped upon one Indian. Davis, at the same instant, fired at 
 the second Indian, but missed him. McClure, with better suc 
 cess, killed his man. 
 
 Leaving Caffree still wrestling with his foe, his two compan 
 ions jumped behind trees. The other Indian fired at Caffree, 
 inflicting a mortal wound, and was in turn shot by the cool- 
 headed McClure, who had reloaded his weapon. Caffree, poor 
 fellow, struggling now not only with the Indian, but with 
 the arch-enemy Death himself, called for help. Davis ran 
 towards him, but when half-way to him, the Indian threw off 
 Caffree's weakening grasp, seized his gun, and took aim at 
 Davis. The latter dropped his gun, still unloaded, and ran off 
 into the forest. 
 
 McClure, the coolest man of the trio, having already killed 
 two Indians, shouldered Davis's gun, and ran after him. Strange 
 as it may seem, in the short instant of picking up the gun, he 
 lost sight of both pursuer and pursued. On he ran into the 
 thick shadows of the southern forest, but not a trace could he 
 
422 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 discover of their flight. He stopped to listen. Not a sign was 
 audible, but the steady plash of the little creek of Chica- 
 maugo, or the twittering of the birds. He ran on a little farther, 
 and called aloud. No answer came, but the mocking echo, which 
 rang in thousand-voiced responses, each fainter than the last, 
 from every direction in the forest. He shouted with all his 
 power. It only seemed to wake a thousand fiends, who took 
 up his words and hurled them back and forth. The fate of 
 Davis is unknown to this day. 
 
 McClure, left alone in the Indian country, resolved to make 
 his way home at once, if possible. No more fine notions in 
 him about running off a whole herd of Indian ponies from their 
 masters. Still carrying Davis's rifle as well as his own, our 
 brave young friend set his face to the north. He had only 
 pushed forward for a mile or two, when he discovered approach 
 ing him, an Indian warrior, on a horse with a bell around its 
 neck, and a boy walking by his side. A ready wit is valuable 
 anywhere. McClure dropped one of his rifles, lest it excite 
 suspicion, and boldly advanced, making signs of peace. The 
 fellow returned them, dismounted, seated himself on a fallen 
 tree, and producing a pipe, drew a few puffs, then handed it, 
 following true Indian etiquette, to McClure. 
 
 Just then another tinkle was heard in the forest, followed 
 by quite a troop of gayly attired Indian horsemen. McClure's 
 companion now informed him that the Indians intended to tie 
 him on a horse, and carry him off as a prisoner. To illustrate 
 the thing, Mr. Indian, in the excess of his politeness, bestrode 
 the fallen tree, and locked his feet beneath. As the dusky 
 gentleman twined his legs about the log, the white man raised 
 his rifle, and shot him dead. The Indian boy jumped on the 
 horse and rode away. McClure ran in the opposite direction. 
 A lot of small Indian dogs took after him, harmless in them 
 selves, but succeeding in tripping him up. He fell several times 
 with terrific force, but scrambled to his feet and ran on, until 
 an unlucky fall filled his eyes with dust. 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 423 
 
 % 
 
 Blinded and exhausted, he lay still, expecting each moment 
 to be seized by savage hands. Several minutes passed. No foe 
 more formidable than the snapping dogs appeared. The silence 
 of the woods was unbroken by a single foot-fall. His path 
 homeward was open. Still anxious, but inspired with hope, he 
 regained his feet, and again commenced the journey which 
 brought him safely to his Kentucky cabin. 
 
 A WIDOW'S CABIN. 
 
 The homely name of "Widow Scraggs" has survived the 
 death of its obscure bearer only by reason of her fate. Her 
 home was an isolated cabin in Bourbon County, Kentucky. 
 The structure contained two rooms, separated by a porch 
 or passage-way, which was covered by the same roof as the 
 rooms. In summer months on this porch was spread the frugal 
 meal of the widow's family. In winter, but little use was made 
 of it except for piles of firewood. One room was occupied by 
 the old lady, two grown sons, a widowed daughter and her 
 infant child. The other room was used by two unmarried 
 daughters, one twenty years old, the other just blooming with 
 all the blushing beauty of sweet sixteen, a girl living with the 
 family, and the children. 
 
 It was twelve o'clock, on the night of April 11, 1787. 
 In one room the elder daughter was still spinning flax at the 
 old-fashioned spinning-wheel; in the other, one of the young 
 men still busied himself with the humble task of cobbling his 
 shoes by the flickering firelight. The remainder of the family 
 were asleep. From time to time, the young cobbler raised his 
 head, nnd, with awl arrested in mid-air, seemed to listen with 
 anxiety to some sounds in the forest, which now and then dis 
 turbed the silence of the cabin. 
 
 These noises, to the ordinary listener, were no reason for the 
 apparent apprehensions of the young man. They were but the 
 hooting of owls and the restless neighing of a couple of horses in 
 the barnyard. The young spinner in the other room seemed not 
 
424 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 * 
 
 to notice them. Probably the noise of the spinning-wheel or 
 the preoccupation of her mind explained this. The shoes were 
 almost mended, when a footfall was heard from the porch, fol 
 lowed by a knock on the door. " Who keeps house ?" the 
 person knocking inquired in good English. The young man, 
 supposing it to be some belated settler, rose to unbar the door. 
 At that moment his mother, roused by the unusual disturbance, 
 screamed, " Keep the door shut! They are Indians!" 
 
 The other young man, till then asleep, sprang from his bed, 
 and the two prepared for defense. The Indians, of whose char 
 acter there could now be no doubt, set up terrific yells, and 
 attempted to batter down the heavy door. A shot from a port 
 hole in the cabin caused them to fall back quickly, only to dis 
 cover the door to the other room, in which were the three 
 defenseless girls. This door was out of range of the rifles of 
 the young men. The fence supplied the savages with heavy 
 rails. Using these as battering rams against the door, the 
 savages filled the air with wild yells and discordant clamor, 
 mingled with the heavy thuds of the rams, and the sharp sound 
 of splitting wood and breaking hinges as the door began to 
 give way. 
 
 At last the frail defense fell inward, and the savages leaped 
 with exultant cries toward the frightened girls. The eldest, 
 pale and desperate, braced herself against the door, but a savage 
 hand and arm, thrust through a breach, buried a knife in her 
 back. The second girl was captured without a struggle. The 
 youngest one, in the uproar, slipped under a bed, and out of 
 the door. Instead of escaping, however, the little girl ran to 
 the door of the other room, screaming that her sisters were 
 murdered. The young men were about to attempt her rescue, 
 when the mother firmly interposed, declaring that she must be 
 left to her fate, as to open the door would be the death of all. 
 At that moment a piercing scream announced that she lived no 
 longer. 
 
 But a new horror was at hand. The room filled with smoke, 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 427 
 
 the crackling of flames was heard. The dreadful truth was 
 plain. The cabin had been fired. The inmates were forced to 
 flight. Their plans were quickly made. The door was flung 
 open. The widow, supported by her eldest son, ran in one 
 direction ; the daughter, with her child and the younger son, ran 
 in another direction. The mounting flames lighted up the yard 
 with the brightness of day. The widow was shot as she reached 
 the fence ; her son, by strange fortune, escaped. The other 
 party also reached the fence, but were attacked in the act of 
 crossing, by several Indians. 
 
 The younger brother, careless of his own safety, and seek 
 ing only that his sister and her child might have time for escape, 
 fought with all the fury of despair and the sublime courage 
 which is inspired by a consciousness of self-sacrifice. He had 
 placed one foot on the fence. A spring, and he would have 
 been over. Instead, he withdrew his foot. He resolved to 
 remain on the side where he was. The foremost Indian he shot 
 dead. Then, with clubbed musket, he beat back his swarming 
 foes, till his sister and her child were well out of the way. 
 
 But the unequal contest ended. Wounded unto death, he 
 fell into the fence corner, where the ground was stained with 
 the ebbing life tide. Four members of the family had been 
 killed on the spot and one, the second daughter, taken prisoner. 
 The fugitives carried the dark tidings to their neighbors. There 
 were hurried preparations, eager inquiries, and dreadful male 
 dictions among the settlers. By morning, a company of thirty 
 men was raised for pursuit. They tracked the foe easily through 
 the light snow. The latter, finding themselves hard pressed, 
 tomahawked the young girl, taken captive. While the main 
 band fled, two of their number posted themselves on a woody 
 ridge, where, by terrific yells and incessant darting among the 
 trees, they deluded the whites into thinking that a large force 
 of Indians occupied the hill. Such is heroism to die for 
 others. The two dusky braves suffered death to aid their 
 friends' escape. 
 
428 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 A TYPICAL HEROINE. 
 
 John Merril was a white settler in Nelson County, Kentucky. 
 One night, about the time of the last incident, he and his wife 
 had retired to bed. The glow of coals from the fire-place alone 
 illuminated the rude apartment, and the loud tick of an old- 
 fashioned clock measured off the flight of time, while the sleep 
 ers dreamed of other days. Suddenly the dogs without the 
 cabin set up a. furious barking. Mr. Merril, but half awake, 
 rose to see what was the matter. As he opened the door, he 
 was shot dead, receiving seven bullets in his body. His wife 
 sprang forward, and closed and barred the door, which the 
 Indians at once began to chop down with their tomahawks. A 
 breach was soon effected. But Mrs. Merril was of great strength 
 and invincible courage. Her hard life on the frontier had done 
 much to prepare her for this crisis. As the Indians sought to 
 enter the breach, the daring woman, with fearful exertion, suc 
 cessively killed or disabled four of the enemy. 
 
 Foiled in this, the savages climbed on the roof and commenced 
 to descend the chimney. Again the courage and address of the 
 solitary woman confronted them. Snatching up a feather-bed, 
 she flung it on the fire. In a moment the volumes of flame 
 and stifling smoke overcame two of the Indians, who fell help 
 lessly down into the fire. Seizing an ax, the now widowed 
 woman quickly dispatched them, and then, with a quick side 
 stroke, inflicted a fearful gash upon the head of the last sav 
 age, who was again attempting an entrance by the breach. This 
 fellow escaped. The story of the immense strength and valor 
 of the "long knife squaw" agitated many a barbarous audience 
 in the wigwams of his tribe. 
 
 THE SUFFERINGS OF MASSY HARBISON. 
 
 Two hundred yards from Reed's block-house, which was 
 itself about twenty-five miles from Pittsburgh, stood, in the year 
 1792, the rude cabin of an Indian fighter, named Harbison. At 
 sunrise, one morning, while Harbison was absent on a scout, 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 429 
 
 the horn sounded at the block-house. Not thinking the bugle 
 blast a danger signal, Mrs. Harbison fell asleep again. Dream 
 ing of trouble, she awoke, to find a huge savage dragging her 
 from the bed by her foot, and the house swarming with Indians. 
 After ransacking the house, they forced her to come along with 
 them. She carried in her arms her infant child, and led by the 
 hand her little boy of five years. 
 
 There was yet a third child, three years old. For the little 
 fellow the mother had no hand. To relieve her of this embar 
 rassment, an Indian took him by the feet, whirled him through 
 the air, and brained him against the cabin wall. To relate these 
 details is sickening, the mother fainted at the awful sight. 
 For this the murderers had a cure. It deserves the attention 
 of medical men. In her story the mother describes it. " The 
 savages gave me a blow across my head and face, and brought 
 me to sight and recollection again." 
 
 With this delicate attention the procession marched on. In 
 a few minutes the path led down a steep hill. The little five- 
 year-old boy fell. It hurt him. He was but a child. With 
 uplifted voice and face filled with liquid grief, he sought conso 
 lation from the mother's heart, which had never failed. As she 
 put forth her hand in gentle caresses, such as only a mother 
 can give, her arm was seized and she was jerked back. Instead 
 of the soft maternal touch, an Indian's hand seized the little fel 
 low. His crying was stopped forever. The toy which quieted 
 him was a tomahawk. Her babe alone was left to the mother. 
 
 All day she marched with her captors. At night, they 
 spread a blanket on the ground, and, tying her hand and foot, 
 said " Go sleep." Two Indians lay down on each side of the 
 poor woman. The next day the march was continued. This 
 day she had food. It was a piece of dried venison, "about the 
 bulk of an egg." One of the Indians went away for a few 
 hours. In his absence another savage busied himself with 
 making a small hoop. At first the captive watched him with 
 languid curiosity. Then, full of wretchedness, she turnei 
 
430 INDTAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 head to look upward into the waving foliage of the forest, and 
 the vast illimitable sky-dome. When her eyes fell on the sav 
 age again, he had something in his hand. A flash of horror- 
 struck recognition flickered in the woman's eyes. It was the 
 scalp of her boy. The savage was stretching it on the hoop. 
 
 The second night was passed like the first. Towards morn 
 ing one Indian rose and left the camp. The wakeful mother 
 managed to slip loose from her bonds. With a step, noiseless as 
 a spirit, she fled with her babe in arms on and on, pausing not to 
 look behind, breathless, frantic, "over rocks, precipices, thorns, 
 and briers, with bare feet and legs," as she says pathetically. 
 
 She was a pioneer woman, the wife of a scout. At two 
 o'clock in the afternoon she could no longer keep up her flight. 
 She waited. At night, when the north star appeared, she 
 marked out the course for the next day. Long before sunrise 
 she was on her way, resting not. It rained all day. She had 
 no food for herself or child. Yet she bravely pushed on. At 
 dark she made a bed of leaves in the forest. The child was 
 hungry. The little creature wept aloud. "Fearful of the con 
 sequences," writes the mother, " I put him to my breast, and he 
 became quiet. I then listened, and distinctly heard footsteps. 
 The ground over which I had traveled was soft, and my foot 
 prints had been followed. 
 
 " Greatly alarmed, I looked about for a place of safety, and 
 providentially discovered a large tree which had fallen, into the 
 top of which I crept. The darkness greatly assisted me, and 
 prevented detection. The savage who followed me had heard 
 the cry of the child, and came to the very spot where it had 
 cried, and there he halted, put down his gun, and was at this 
 time so near that I heard the wiping-stick strike against his gun 
 distinctly. My getting in under the tree and sheltering myself 
 from the rain, and pressing my boy to my bosom, got him warm, 
 and, most providentially, he fell asleep, and lay very still dur 
 ing that time of extreme danger. All was still and quiet; the 
 was listening^tcr hear the cry again. My own heart was 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 433 
 
 the only thing I feared, and that beat so loud that I was appre 
 hensive it would betray me. 
 
 " After the savage had stood and listened with nearly the 
 stillness of death for two hours, the sound of a bell and a cry 
 like that of a night-owl, signals which were given to him by 
 his companions, induced him to answer, and after he had given 
 a most horrid yell, he started off to join them. After his retreat, 
 I concluded it unsafe to remain there till morning. 
 
 " But by this time nature was so nearly exhausted that I 
 found some difficulty in moving ; yet, compelled by necessity, 
 I threw my coat about my child and placed the end between 
 my teeth, and with one arm and my teeth I carried him, and 
 with the other groped my way between the trees and traveled 
 on, as I supposed, a mile or two, and there sat down at the 
 root of a tree till morning. The night was cold and wet, and 
 thus terminated the fourth day and night's difficulties, trials, 
 and dangers ! " 
 
 After two days more of incredible suffering, the unfortunate 
 woman made her way to a settlement. So changed was she by 
 the six days of hardship, that her nearest neighbor failed to 
 recognize her. " Two of the females, Sarah Carter and Mary 
 Ann Crozier, took out the thorns from my feet and legs, which 
 Mr. Felix Negley stood by and counted, to the number of 
 one hundred and fifty, though they were not all extracted at 
 that time, for the next evening there were many more taken 
 out. The flesh was mangled dreadfully, and the skin and flesh 
 were hanging in pieces on my feet and legs. The wounds were 
 not healed for a considerable time. Some of the thorns went 
 through my feet and came out at the top." 
 
 Thus the pioneers of the Ohio valley endured for the sake 
 of the hope which was set before them. Forty years they wan 
 dered in the wilderness that their children might enter into and 
 possess the land of promise. What honor is due them by the 
 thoughtless thousands who eat the fruit of their toil! Yet the 
 shores of the Ohio contain no monument to their memory! 
 
 24 
 
434 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 MOREDOCK'S REVENGE. 
 
 Nature is full of compensations, of balances. Light and 
 darkness ; heat and cold ; love and hate ; positive and negative ; 
 more and less these are but a few instances of a law running 
 through the universe. Indian massacres made Indian fighters. 
 In the shadow of the murderer skulks the avenger. There was 
 a woman named Moredock, who lived about 1793, at Vincennes, 
 Indiana, the oldest and, historically, the richest town in the 
 State. She had had several husbands, all of whom had fallen 
 victims of Indian hostility. She had lived for twenty years on 
 the extreme frontier. Husbands, children, neighbors, all these 
 she had seen slain by the red destroyers. Yet with calm heart, 
 stony face, and tearless eye, she faced the danger. She did 
 more. She resolved to move farther west, that her boys might 
 have a chance to grow up with the country. 
 
 The party of twenty-five or thirty voyagers, of which she 
 and her family were members, journeyed easily down the Ohio 
 and up the Mississippi. One noon they went ashore at what 
 is Grand Tower, to tow the boats around a high cliff, by which 
 the foaming river rushed with furious current. It was their 
 last landing before reaching their destination. Every one was 
 cheered at the happy prospect. At that moment a dark and 
 dreadful band of warriors burst upon the little company. The 
 surprise was too great, the force too overwhelming for the emi 
 grants to rally. Only one man escaped. John Moredock, the 
 widow's son, more lucky than the others, hid in a fissure in 
 the rock. When the murderers left, glutted with the feast of 
 blood, he climbed down and found the corpses of his family 
 and friends. He buried them. Looking out over the majestic 
 river, he lifted his hand heavenward, and with dark and rigid 
 countenance, hissed out between clenched teeth, " Before God, 
 I will have revenge." 
 
 That night the lonely youth started for the Kaskaskia settle 
 ments. By daylight he reached them. He told his story. Bold 
 frontiersmen, hardy scouts, appalled by the extent of the horror, 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 435 
 
 inspired by the suppressed fury of Moredock, vowed to help him 
 track the murderers. The flower of the frontier joined the expe 
 dition. They set out. It was days before they came within 
 reach of the fleeing murderers. 
 
 At last they were discovered. Their camp was on the 
 banks of the Missouri River. But Moredock refused to allow 
 an attack. Why? Did his heart fail him? No. Were he and 
 his companions, after all their tremendous pursuit, going to let 
 the Indians escape? Yes, and no. Moredock's determination 
 was to kill every Indian in the party. Their camp was so 
 pitched that some might escape. He contained himself. Almost 
 bursting with hatred, he was as calm and cool as a marble 
 statue. He said to his men, "We will wait." For several 
 days the avengers shadowed the band of warriors. Their 
 patience was inexhaustible; their pertinacity tireless. 
 
 At last they were rewarded. At last, the Indians, uncon 
 scious of danger, stepped into a trap. They encamped on a 
 little island in the middle of the Mississippi. Moredock said, 
 " We have them." At midnight the white men landed on the 
 island. They were as noiseless as specters. The canoes of the 
 Indians were floating at the water's edge. These were cut 
 adrift. This made escape for tne Indians impossible. More- 
 dock stepped to the canoes from which he and his men had dis 
 embarked. With a face of cast-iron, he cut them adrift also. 
 What did this mean ? It meant that escape for the white men was 
 also impossible. " We will fight to the death !" said Moredock. 
 
 The struggle which followed on the island was terrible. 
 The Indians, surprised, ran to their canoes. They were gone. 
 With a howl of despair, the red sons of the forest turned 
 to fight to the death. Out of thirty, twenty-seven were slain. 
 Was not Moredock's revenge complete ? No ! Three had 
 escaped, by swimming. His appetite for vengeance was unap- 
 peased. He dismissed his friends with thanks. They returned 
 to their settlements. For himself, he struck out into the wil 
 derness. For two years he followed the three Indians like 
 
436 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 shadows. Across mountains, down rivers, over prairies he pur 
 sued them, day and night. One by one they fell before the 
 avenger. 
 
 At the end of two years he returned to Kaskaskia with their 
 scalps. His revenge was complete. He settled down. He was 
 known as a quiet, peaceable man, strongly domestic in his 
 tastes. This was his true character. Such men, once roused, 
 make the deadliest of all foes. Moredock lived to be not only 
 a respected, but a leading, citizen. He was chosen to hold 
 offices of honor and profit. With it all, he spoke but seldom of 
 the past. Many of the people among whom he lived and moved 
 little suspected him of being a blood avenger. Yet it was the 
 case. Such is our ignorance of our neighbors ! 
 
 THE WIZARD'S PUNISHMENT. 
 
 Early in this century, a strange Indian appeared in a white 
 settlement, near what is now the capital of Ohio. He seemed 
 to be continually apprehensive of some danger, but otherwise 
 acted as any Indian of the better sort. Gradually the white 
 men won his confidence. He explained why he was always so 
 watchful to see that no pursuer was after him. He was a Wyan- 
 dot. His tribe had taken up a notion that he was guilty of witch 
 craft. His life was in peril. He fled to the wilderness. For 
 a long time he had eluded them. But his tribe ceased not to 
 pursue him with undying malignity. He was growing old. 
 He needed a more settled habitation as he advanced in years. 
 He had thrown himself upon the mercy of the white man, his 
 father's foe. 
 
 One June morning he was sitting in a chair in his cabin. 
 Suddenly a band of Wyandots entered the room. They had 
 tracked him to his retreat. He made no effort to escape. With 
 calm disdain and unruffled courage, he submitted quietly to be 
 bound and carried away. The settlers asked his captors what 
 it meant. With dark and bigoted looks they replied that he 
 was a bad Indian, that he had caused horses, dogs, and even the 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 437 
 
 people of his tribe to fall sick. For this crime he must die. 
 The settlers labored to convince them that their captive had no 
 power to achieve such wonders. To this the savages obsti 
 nately shook their heads. The white men exhausted their 
 powers of argument and persuasion. The victim could only be 
 saved by force of arms. This was out of the question. The 
 band of savages greatly outnumbered the population of the 
 settlement. 
 
 Finding that he must die, the suspected wizard asked that 
 he might be arrayed in his finest clothes and ornaments. Gor 
 geously decked out in his gay trappings of silver, gold, and 
 scarlet cloth, he took his place in a ring, and asked that 
 a paper, which he handed them, be read aloud, and then 
 fastened to a tree. It was done. The document was only a 
 recommendation from a prominent settler. With much emotion 
 he bade farewell to his white friends, and then obediently took 
 up his march to a lonely wood, chanting the while the Indian 
 death-song. Arriving at his destination, he was made to kneel 
 before a shallow grave. His relentless executioners formed a 
 circle about him. There was a pause. Then a young warrior 
 stepped briskly forward. His uplifted tomahawk glittered for 
 a moment in the light of the afternoon sun, then sank to the 
 heft in the skull of the victim. 
 
 Herein Indian haters may find a text. The barbarism, the 
 cruelty, the blood-thirstiness, the ignorance, the superstition of 
 the savage ! Softly, friend, if you please. Yonder, on the 
 stormy New England coast, sits an old town, with its single 
 street and its queer old houses, which look as if they were 
 haunted. In the town museum you may see the wooden pegs 
 which witnesses swore had been suddenly and mysteriously 
 thrust into the flesh of tender babes, without any visible 
 agency, except it. was through the black art of the culprit at 
 the bar. Near by is Witches'. Hill, where innocent women and 
 men were executed, under sentences rendered on just such tes 
 timony. Not ignorant savages were the witnesses, the jury, 
 
438 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the judge, the approving crowd; but intelligent, educated, 
 New England Puritans, from whom is said to flow the best 
 blood in America. When we remember the Reign of Supersti 
 tion in Salem, when we open to the black pages of the witch 
 craft persecutions, let us withhold our obloquy from the 
 wretched Indian. 
 
 Why do we look with such intense aversion, such anger, such 
 disgust upon these crimes, which were committed in the name 
 of justice ? It is because it is a part of this age to abhor super 
 stition. We know that the poison flower sheds a fatal perfume. 
 We see that nothing so enervates the intellect, corrupts charac 
 ter, and demoralizes society as this denial of the laws of cause 
 and effect, this belief in a lie, which we call superstition. We 
 hate it. But the place for us to attack superstition is right 
 here and now, and not in the past. There are historical reasons 
 for the witchcraft persecutions of New England. There are 
 reasons, too obvious to be named, for the rank superstition of 
 the Indians. Those reasons do not exist for us. Let us tear 
 from our hearts every cherished bit of superstition. Let us not 
 merely not believe in witches. Let us also trample under our 
 feet every vague belief in table-tipping spirits, in luck, in good 
 and bad omens, in fortune-telling, in the infallibility of the 
 past. This is our work. But it is not our work to abuse 
 the Indians or the Salemites, or any other people under heaven 
 because they believe or believed in superstitions at which we 
 smile with scorn. 
 
 Let us pause. This chapter and others, both before and 
 after it, deals with the massacres, the bloodshed, the midnight 
 surprises, the deadly combats, the decoys, the ambushes of the 
 Indian wars in the Ohio valley. These terrible records cover a 
 period of twenty years, from 1774 to 1794. During all that 
 time the frontier was a line of battle. 
 
 The history of the time is a history of murders, of cruelties, 
 of tortures. It recites the slaughter of children, the tomahawk 
 ing of women, the burning alive of men. It recites captivities,. 
 
THE CONFLICT IN THE OHIO VALLEY. 441 
 
 starvations, and wanderings. It tells of ruined homes, of deso 
 lated lives, of suffering hearts. The midnight sky is forever red 
 with the glare of blazing cabins ; the forest is forever filled with 
 blood avengers; yelling Indians are forever battering down the 
 doors of lonely dwellings. Little bands of devoted pioneers are 
 constantly being shut up to starve in block-houses. Strong men, 
 brave women, and tender girls are alike ever running the gaunt 
 let of the encircling foes, to secure food, ammunition, and relief. 
 Lion-hearted men, maddened by the outrages, the murders, the 
 cruelties of the foe, are giving up their farms, their settlements, 
 to roam the forests with the dark occupation of the Indian scout. 
 This is but another name for Indian killer. 
 
 Young men, snatched away when children from the arms of 
 agonized mothers, and reared in the squalid wigwams of the 
 savage, remembering not the loving parents who bore them, but 
 knowing only their filthy and ignorant captors, are ever return 
 ing, when they reach years of maturity, to the habitation of 
 the white man. They' feel themselves strangely moved. Faint 
 memories of their real parents are pictured on their minds. 
 They forever search, without success, to find that early home, 
 and carry with them through life a dull sorrow in the heart. 
 All this, and much more, enters into the story of the time. 
 Seated in our comfortable homes, we read this history. The 
 Indian hater says, "I told you so." Their baseness, their bru 
 tality, their wickedness made and makes it just that the red 
 men should be destroyed from the face of the earth. 
 
 Let us take a wider view. Let us turn from the silent for 
 ests, the majestic rivers, the unpopulated landscapes of the wil 
 derness during the years of this war, to the sunny cities of 
 France, with their cathedrals and palaces, with their gay nobil 
 ity, their thronging populations, their courts, their literature, 
 their civilization. View them as they were during these same 
 years which the wild Indians of the west marked out upon the 
 historic calendar with the emblems of death and destruction. 
 Need we to be reminded that these very years were the years 
 
442 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of the French Revolution; that at the very time when a few 
 half starved Indians were attacking some cabin in the beautiful 
 valley, infuriated thousands were thronging through the streets 
 of Paris, crying "Bread or Blood?" 
 
 The past rises before us. The red panorama of the Revolu 
 tion, with its sacked cities, its burning chateaux, its wild orgies 
 of massacre, its streams of blood, its guillotine blades rising and 
 falling with the regularity of heart beats, severing the heads of 
 the bravest, the tenderest, the noblest, the loveliest, the truest 
 sons and daughters of France, all these move in lurid procession 
 before our startled eyes. Mirabeau, Danton, Robespierre, rise 
 before us now terrible phantoms, but once, more terrible reali 
 ties. Charlotte Corday, the peasant girl, leaving her rural home, 
 seeking admittance to Marat's chamber, thrusting the dagger into 
 his guilty heart, and then calmly waiting for her own execution, 
 which came so soon; the awful tan-yard, where the skins of the 
 guillotine's victims were transformed into a "fine soft leather, 
 which made excellent breeches ;" the Hall of the Jacobins ; the 
 procession of black tumbrils winding daily through the streets 
 of Paris, bearing poets, nobles, statesmen, even the silly king 
 and the sorrowful queen, to the place of public execution ; these 
 are but a few of the flame-lit scenes of the Reign of Terror. 
 
 Yet all this was civilization, progress, political birth-throes, 
 the regeneration of the French, the richest, the gayest, the most 
 brilliant, the most highly civilized people of Europe. How 
 much worse was the '92 of the Ohio valley than the '93 of 
 France ? Upon the surface, the savages of the Revolution were 
 blacker, bloodier, than the red men of America. The Philosophy 
 of History steps in, and laying her hand alike upon the raging 
 madmen of France and the untutored savages of America, says 
 to us, JUDGE NOT ! 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 
 
 443 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 
 
 HERE were not a half dozen white men's cabins 
 in the Ohio valley when an honest Dutchman 
 named John Wetzel located with the Zanes, at 
 Wheeling. He was no Indian fighter. He 
 roamed the woods without caution, and in 1787 
 was murdered by the savages, without a strug 
 gle. Peaceful as he was, his cabin was a nest 
 of thunderbolts. Of five boys, every one was 
 a famous Indian fighter. 
 
 Martin Wetzel, the oldest son, was taken prisoner by Indians. 
 His cheerful adaptation of himself to circumstances disarmed 
 suspicion among his captors. But his mind was full of plans 
 for a tragic revenge and escape. The fall hunt was undertaken 
 by him with three Indians. Their camp was pitched near the 
 headwaters of the Sandusky. One evening, when two miles 
 from the camp, he met one of his Indian companions. When 
 the other's attention was called in another direction, Wetzel 
 brained him with his tomahawk. The body was thrown in a 
 hole, and carefully covered with earth and leaves. Hastening 
 to the camp, Wetzel commenced cooking supper, when the other 
 two Indians came in. He expressed surprise at the absence of 
 their missing companion, but they said he had probably gone on 
 a longer hunt than usual. 
 
 That night Wetzel could not sleep. In his heated brain he 
 revolved many plans for completing the tragedy. He wavered 
 between attacking them while asleep and waiting for an oppor- 
 
444 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 tunity to dispatch them separately. Though consumed with the 
 fever of excitement, he chose the latter as the surer plan. When 
 the Indians started out for their day's hunt the next morning, 
 Wetzel resolved to follow one. All day he shadowed him. 
 Towards evening Wetzel walked up to him openly, and com 
 menced a conversation with him about the day's hunt. The 
 Indian, completely off* his guard, turned to look at a flock of 
 birds. With a lightning stroke of his terrible tomahawk, 
 Wetzel killed him. This body also he buried, and then hur 
 ried to the camp. 
 
 At sunset Wetzel saw the third Indian coming heavily 
 loaded with game. The captive went out to meet him, under 
 pretense of relieving him of a part of his load. As the hunter 
 stooped down to allow Wetzel to lift off a part of the pack> 
 the latter for a third time swung his tomahawk, and a third 
 time stretched his foe forever upon the ground. Wetzel, safe 
 from pursuit, began and successfully accomplished the return to 
 his home. 
 
 Similar incidents might be related of each of the Wetzels. 
 Their figures, as outlined on the red panorama of border war 
 fare, stand out in striking contrast with those of every other 
 pioneer family. There seemed to run in their veins the blood 
 of banditti. Yet their desperate deeds were all performed in 
 the interests of the settlers. For themselves they cared noth 
 ing. They were a tower of defense against Indian invasion. 
 
 Of this strange group of brothers, Lewis Wetzel, the young 
 est of the five, surpassed the rest by his exploits as much as 
 they surpassed all the other settlers of the valley. His first 
 recorded exploit took place in 1776, when he was thirteen years 
 of age. He and his brother Jacob were at a little distance from 
 the house, playing near the barn, when Lewis saw a gun-barrel 
 sticking out from the corner of the barn. He jumped back at 
 the same instant, but received a painful wound in his breast 
 bone. Escape was impossible. 
 
 The Indians having taken the two boys prisoner, began a 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 445 
 
 hasty retreat. They crossed the Ohio, and headed for their 
 wigwams on the Muskingum. Lewis suffered greatly from his 
 wound during the toilsome journey, but refrained from com 
 plaint, knowing that the Indian cure for his wound would be 
 the tomahawk. The first night the boys were tied. The sec 
 ond night the captors gorged their stomachs with the single 
 meal of the day, and, thinking the boys too far away from home 
 to attempt an escape, left them untied. When the noble red 
 men were snoring loudly, Lewis arose, and pretending to fix the 
 fire, made sure that all were sleeping heavily. Rousing his 
 brother Jacob, he told him they must go. Jacob was frightened, 
 but Lewis urged him out into the woods. The younger boy then 
 slipped back, secured two pair of moccasins and his father's gun. 
 
 The runaways moved on rapidly through the pitchy dark 
 ness of the forest for two hours. Then the quick ear of Lewis 
 heard a noise. Drawing his brother into a clump of bushes, 
 they lay still till their pursuers passed them. Shortly they 
 came out from their hiding-place, and pushed on boldly in the 
 rear of the Indians. At last they discovered that the Indians 
 were coming back. Again the boys hid, this time in a hollow 
 tree, and again eluded the enemy. Their journey to the Ohio 
 was not interrupted further. The river the little fellows 
 crossed on a raft of their own construction, and they reached 
 home in safety. 
 
 Another story of Wetzel's youth associates him with the 
 famous Lydia Boggs. She was a young girl in Wheeling, and, 
 unlike Elizabeth Zane, of the same place, who had been brought 
 up in the best young ladies' schools of Philadelphia, and was 
 rather aristocratic and reserved, Miss Lydia was a regular 
 daughter of the frontier. She roamed the woods, climbed trees, 
 engaged in jumping and shooting matches, and thought nothing 
 of swimming the Ohio. She was a great favorite in the settle 
 ment. She lived until 1867, and furnished much of the infor 
 mation on which the books of border warfare were based. 
 
 On the occasion in question, Miss Lydia had crossed in a 
 
446 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 canoe to an island in the Ohio. Just as she landed an Indian, 
 plumed and painted, rushed at her with uplifted tomahawk. 
 The girl dropped to her knees, and begged for mercy. But 
 instead of striking her, the savage broke into a loud laugh, and 
 exclaimed in good English : " Why, do n't you know me, Lydia ?" 
 It was the mischievous Lewis Wetzel, just returning in Indian 
 disguise from a scout. He had stopped to eat some wild rasp 
 berries, which were ripening on the island. The two young 
 folks took the canoe, and Lewis went home with the light- 
 hearted girl to supper. 
 
 The tragic, however, excluded the romantic element in Wet 
 zel. In 1782, one of Crawford's men, having made his escape 
 after the great defeat, left his horse ten miles below Wheeling, 
 and persuaded Wetzel to go back with him for it. The trip was 
 made. The horse was found standing tied to a tree. Wetzel at 
 once saw the snare, and tried to hold his companion back. It 
 was too late. The man was shot as he placed his hand on the 
 bridle. Wetzel at once fled, pursued by four fleet Indians. 
 
 At the end of a half mile, Wetzel stopped short, wheeled, 
 and shot the foremost Indian, and then ran on. From boyhood 
 he had practiced the art of loading as he ran. Again he turned 
 to shoot, but the pursuer sprang forward and caught the barrel. 
 Wetzel had no time for a prolonged contest. In one minute the 
 other two Indians would be upon him. By a desperate effort 
 he wrenched the gun loose, and shot his opponent through the 
 neck. The third Indian was killed in the same way after a fur 
 ther chase, whereupon the fourth one fled into the forest. 
 
 The settlers at Wheeling were justly alarmed by the signs 
 of unusual Indian activity in 1782, before the second siege of 
 Fort Henry actually took place. Some little distance away was 
 a cave, from which had been heard several times one morning, 
 the gobble-gobble-gobble of wild turkeys. This was a favorite 
 decoy sound of the Indians. They could imitate a turkey call 
 so that it would deceive the very elect. Wetzel was convinced 
 that there was a redskin in the cavern. Making a long detour 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 447 
 
 in the grass, he reached a point from which he could observe 
 the mouth of the cave. After a patient wait, he saw a red 
 figure slowly emerge from the cavern, straighten itself lip, and 
 give forth a gobble as natural as life. Then the figure disap 
 peared. It was but a few moments till the savage again 
 appeared to re-enact the little part, in which he took great satis 
 faction. He inflated his lungs, and puckered his lips, but just as 
 the first note of that gobble was sounded, the crack of Wetzel's 
 rifle ended it and all other gobbles from that savage forever. 
 
 About 1786 the red man became a little too festive in the 
 vicinity of Wheeling. The settlers clubbed together, made up 
 a purse of one hundred dollars, and offered it to the first man 
 who should bring in an Indian scalp. This offer greatly excited 
 the borderers. They justly considered themselves engaged in 
 a constant war with the Indians, and one scalp more or less, 
 one wigwam without its owner, one squaw mourning over the 
 corpse of her lord, what difference could it make ? On the other 
 hand, one hundred dollars was a fortune. 
 
 To make sure of securing the prize, a company of twenty 
 Indian fighters was raised, each man to receive four dollars of 
 the blood money, and the actual murderer and scalp-taker to 
 receive twenty dollars. Lewis Wetzel joined this party. They 
 moved rapidly and secretly toward the Muskingum. A scout 
 of five men was detailed to hunt up the red man. The chase 
 was discovered, but the numbers of the savages were so over 
 whelming that, instead of making an attack, the brave scalp- 
 takers determined to retreat to the settlements as rapidly as 
 they came. Wetzel said nothing, but scowled sarcastically at 
 the men. When the word came to march, he coolly sat down 
 and refused to budge. They argued with him, persuaded, and 
 expostulated over his stubborn fool-hardiness. " Go on, you 
 fools. I came out to fight Indians. I 'm not going to run 
 home with my finger in my mouth !" jerked out this aesthetic 
 and gentle young fellow. His great, rugged nature was inca 
 pable of fear. 
 
448 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 So his companions marched off, leaving Lewis leaning 
 against a tree, utterly indifferent to their movements. The 
 situation which he confronted so calmly was full of sudden and 
 secret dangers. He was near the Indian villages, a long ways 
 from any white settlements. The very forest around him was 
 traversed by red men incessantly in their hunts. Not ten feet 
 from him were the white ashes of an Indian camp-fire which 
 had not been cold a dozen hours. 
 
 When his friends disappeared from view, Wetzel's whole man 
 ner underwent a change. From an air of indifference and scorn, 
 he suddenly changed to one of intense vigilance. Moving noise 
 lessly from tree to tree through the darkest depths of the wav 
 ing forest, not a decaying log, with its velvet upholstering of 
 emerald mosses, not a shadow which fell across his path darker 
 than the unbroken shades of the place itself escaped his careful 
 and suspicious scrutiny. His piercing eye scanned every clump 
 of bushes, and every hollow tree. Walking on with gun cocked 
 and ready for instant use, now he leaped lightly over gigantic 
 piles of fallen timber, huge trunks of trees, prostrated by some 
 tempest and interlaced in inextricable confusion, now he crawled 
 skillfully through thorny underbrush, and now waded, neck 
 deep, up the channel of some stream. 
 
 For hours he continued in this way, but not an Indian was 
 discovered. At last the greenish gloom of the forest began 
 to change to a somber yellow. The air became damp and chilly. 
 It was the approach of night. In a sheltered ravine, Wetzel 
 selected a spot behind some fallen trees, and dug a small hole. 
 In the bottom of this he built a little fire, covering it loosely 
 with leaves and earth. He was cold. Seating himself on the 
 ground, and encircling the hole with his legs, he covered him 
 self with his blanket. This arrangement would not discover 
 him to any wandering savages, and yet was, said he, "as 
 warm as a store-room." When thoroughly warm, he took out 
 some dried venison and parched corn, and ate his supper. A 
 drink from a neighboring spring quenched his thirst. Spreading 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 449 
 
 some branches on the ground, he lay down close behind the 
 sheltering log, and amid the twitter and bickerings of innumer 
 able birds, the hum of insects, and howls of invisible animals, 
 he quickly fell asleep. 
 
 On the afternoon of the next day Wetzel suddenly came 
 across an empty camp. Two blankets and a kettle taught him 
 that its occupants were two Indians, who would return from 
 their hunt at night. He was patient. He concealed himself 
 near by. At nightfall the two redskins came in. They cooked 
 a savory supper. The odor from the roasting venison was 
 wafted to the hungry Wetzel. He intended to wait till they 
 slept. But these two citizens of the forest were in high humor. 
 Hour after hour they laughed and joked in their unintelligible 
 jargon, and making the forest ring with their merriment. At 
 last one seized a flaming brand and started into the forest. 
 
 It was a tableau. Through the black darkness moved with 
 silent tread this strange figure, on which fell the ruddy light 
 from the glowing ember. Was it some deed of vengeance or 
 some act of worship which impelled the torch-bearer on into the 
 night ? The red coal danced in and out among the trees, grow 
 ing fainter and fainter. At last it disappeared from view alto 
 gether. Wetzel turned. The calm, regular snore of the remain 
 ing savage told plainly of his slumber. It was but a moment's 
 work for the wakeful foe to steal forward, and, with one knife- 
 stroke, plunge the Indian into a sleep which knew no waking, 
 seize the coveted scalp, and quickly commence the homeward 
 trip. In two days Wetzel delivered his trophy at Wheeling, 
 and with untroubled conscience received the blood-money. 
 
 If Wetzel needed any further influence to develop him into 
 a professional Indian fighter, it came in the murder of his 
 peaceful old father in 1787. The honest German, while in his 
 canoe on the Ohio, was fired at from the shore and killed. 
 From this time Lewis Wetzel roamed the woods incessantly in 
 quest of savages. To kill Indians became the trade of himself 
 and his brothers. One exploit alone served to render him 
 
450 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 famous as the most terrible scout in the Ohio valley. He was 
 out on a lone hunt, and came across a camp of four Indians, 
 all asleep. Three of them he dispatched, only the fourth 
 escaping. 
 
 On another occasion he was out one night in a terrible 
 storm. He happened to be near a deserted cabin. Toward this 
 he made for shelter. Always cautious, instead of throwing 
 himself down on the floor, he arranged some boards in a sort of 
 loft to sleep. The tempest exerted its utmost fury upon the 
 lonely hovel. The floods of rain beat in at the open door and 
 the shutterless window. A bolt of lightning shivered a tree 
 near by. Yet the uproar of the elements was defied by Wetzel, 
 who felt snug enough on his boards. He had not yet fallen 
 asleep, when he heard rapid footsteps splashing through the 
 rain. They came toward the cabin. He listened. 
 
 In a moment some person entered the hut. Presently 
 another dashed in, and another and another. Wetzel at once 
 recognized them from their voices as Indians. The new-comers 
 struck a light and built a fire. Wetzel saw six stalwart saA^- 
 ages within arm's length beneath him. If they looked up and 
 discovered the object in the loft, Wetzel determined to jump 
 down in their midst, stab one or two, and try to escape. The 
 new-comers spitted their meat, and prepared and ate a hearty 
 meal without once lifting their eyes to the spot where Wetzel 
 lay, braced for a spring, and holding his glittering knife in hand. 
 Not a movement dared he to make. His breath seemed to him 
 like the wind rushing in and out of a mighty cavern. 
 
 The meal ended, the dusky company stretched themselves 
 out on the floor and slept. With a skill attained only by the 
 most expert scouts, the white hunter climbed down from his 
 rickety boards, without making a sound, stept swiftly to the 
 door and away. The rain had ceased. Pattering drops fell 
 from the wind-shaken branches of the trees, but the floods no 
 longer descended. Wetzel suddenly stopped short in his flight. 
 A hundred feet from the cabin was a thicket. In that he hid 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 451 
 
 himself. At sunrise there was a stir in the cabin. A huge 
 Indian rose and came to the door. He was yet half-asleep, and 
 rubbing his eyes with his fingers. He was in full view of Wet- 
 zel. The latter fired with fatal effect, and then fled. 
 
 The qualities of the imaginary hero which excite the admi 
 ration of the American school-boy as he furtively reads some 
 wretched border romance, and which existed in reality in Lewis 
 Wetzel, also excited the love and admiration of the pioneers 
 and border settlers of the Ohio valley. Judging him by our 
 standards, Wetzel was a murderer. But this is by no means 
 the rule of judgment. It is the cheapest sort of moralizing for 
 a pert historian to erect for himself a throne of judgment, 
 and measuring men, customs, and institutions of the remote 
 past, condemn them as wicked and criminal. Conscience has 
 only two monitions to men. " Do right," and " avoid wrong." 
 But the great problem of what particular things are right, and 
 what particular things are wrong, is one which conscience does 
 not solve. It is a matter of reason, intelligence, civilization, 
 and progress. It is a question to which every age has given 
 different answers. What was yesterday the highest virtue, 
 to-day is regarded as the blackest crime. What the last age 
 considered an unpardonable sin, to-day is considered to be harm 
 less and innocent. 
 
 Judging him as an individual, in the light, or rather the 
 darkness, of his age, country, religion, and institutions in short, 
 by his civilization there is every reason to think that there 
 may have been as much virtue in the Hindoo holding his out 
 stretched arm upward for twenty years, until it became a rigid 
 and fleshless bone, as in the more enlightened Christian customs 
 of to-day. The Bible itself is the best of all illustrations of the 
 change which takes place in the notion of what is right and 
 what is wrong. The Old Testament repeatedly asserts that 
 burnt offerings of animals were pleasing to the Lord and atoned 
 for sin. The New Testament explicitly denies that the Almighty 
 delights in such offerings. An eye for an eye, is the morality 
 
 25 
 
452 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of Moses. Render unto no man evil for evil, is the teaching 
 of Jesus of Nazareth. 
 
 Clearly, then, we have no business to judge Lewis Wetzel, 
 or any other border hero, or even the Indian himself, by any 
 other standard of morality than that which existed in the 
 time and place in which he lived. The pioneers loved Wet 
 zel. He was their favorite friend and hero. They regarded 
 him as both great and good. That verdict we must accept. 
 Judged by that standard to which he is justly entitled, he was 
 a hero. To call him a murderer, or a desperado, is unfair and 
 untruthful. 
 
 General Harmar was the commander of the troops in the 
 Ohio valley. His head-quarters were Fort Harmar, at the mouth 
 of the Muskingum, where Marietta now stands. The Indian 
 question gave the United States Government great anxiety. 
 Washington and his contemporaries gave it great thought. 
 
 As a part of their policy, efforts were made in 1787 and 
 1788 to make treaties of peace with the Indians. These efforts 
 were looked on by the settlers with great chagrin. They had 
 been bearing the brunt of a bloody war for fourteen years. 
 Every treaty of peace which had been negotiated in all that 
 time had proved to be a delusion and a snare. It had served 
 simply to disarm the frontier, and prepare the way for Indian 
 surprises and massacres. For their part, the settlers wanted 
 the government to destroy the war-power of the Indians. How 
 ever, the flags of truce, the belts of wampum, and the pipes of 
 peace whiph messengers had carried among the tribes of Ohio, 
 Indiana, and Illinois, resulted on January 9, 1789, in a very 
 large assemblage of Indians in a camp at Fort Harmar, to meet 
 General Harmar and arrange for a treaty. 
 
 Wetzel, sharing the contempt of the settlers for such pro 
 ceeding, took a companion and repaired to the neighborhood of 
 Fort Harmar. To him, of course, the killing of an Indian was 
 as the killing of a wolf. The red men had occasion to pass and 
 repass from their camp to the fort. Wetzel hid himself near 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 453 
 
 this path. A large and powerful Indian appeared on horseback. 
 The white man fired. The savage kept his seat and rode rap 
 idly to his camp. But the wound had been fatal. In attempt 
 ing to dismount, he fell dead in the arms of his dusky friends. 
 
 Wetzel and his companion at once made a rapid retreat, 
 before the swarms of Indians were alarmed into pursuit. When 
 the incident was told at the fort, General Harmar was hot with 
 indignation. Such an outrage, committed just when a treaty 
 of peace was being made, and upon Indians who had assembled 
 under guaranties of good faith, was a wicked crime. Protesting 
 his indignation to the reproachful chieftans, he ordered Lewis 
 Wetzel, who, for some reason was at once suspected to be the 
 murderer, to be taken alive or dead. 
 
 A detachment of men under Captain Kingsbury, was ordered 
 to execute this command. They marched at once to the Mingo 
 Bottoms, where Wetzel was known to live. The rough bor 
 derers, however, were ugly customers. Great shaggy fellows, 
 thoroughly used to fighting, caring nothing for discipline, and 
 believing only in that crude and irregular thing known as bor 
 der justice, they were the last men in the world from whom 
 their leader could be taken peaceably. When they learned of 
 Kingsbury 's approach, their rage and fury knew no bounds. 
 
 They prepared an ambuscade for the massacre of Kings- 
 bury's entire party. Among them, however, was a Major 
 McMahan. Thoroughly understanding their temper, he per 
 suaded the infuriated border-men to let him first try the effect 
 of an interview with Kingsbury. This was sullenly agreed to. 
 McMahan hastened to meet the commander. He warned him 
 that the notions of the frontiersmen concerning the killing of 
 Indians were vastly different from those of General Harmar; 
 that the settlers approved of Wetzel's act, and that any further 
 attempt to arrest Wetzel would bring the entire country upon 
 him, and result in the certain destruction of himself and his 
 command. Kingsbury listened. He saw the point. In five 
 minutes he commenced a retreat. 
 
454 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Wetzel was a restless fellow. He determined on a lone hunt 
 in Kentucky. Packing his canoe with provision, the great bor 
 derer started down the Ohio, supposing the little affair with 
 Harmar was fully adjusted. Near Fort Harmar, on an island, 
 lived one of Wetzel's friends, named Carr. The custom of the 
 lonely frontier made it a matter of great importance that Wetzel 
 should stop over with his friend. Such visits broke the monot 
 onous solitude of the life. They were looked forward to, as 
 well as remembered, for months by host and guest alike. 
 
 The joy of meeting on such occasions might well put to 
 shame the hollow ceremonies of welcome with which we .of a 
 later day receive our friends. The husband, wife, and children 
 in one of these lonely cabins knew no higher pleasure than 
 to receive and entertain a friend. The best cheer the cabin 
 afforded was furnished with lavish hand. Rare liquor, carefully 
 hoarded for such occasions, coffee, sugar, and all those, to -us, 
 common articles, which constituted the dainties and delicacies 
 of the pioneer cabin, were brought forth from the bottom of 
 mighty chests. A few pieces of porcelain ware, a silver spoon 
 or two, an old china sugar-bowl, a linen table-cloth, all these 
 treasures, relics of other days, were carefully set out in gay 
 parade in honor of the guest. 
 
 Wetzel remained over night with his friend Carr. About 
 midnight, however, a force of men might have been seen silently 
 putting out from Fort Harmar in a fleet of canoes. They 
 directed their course to Carr's island. They landed at a point 
 farthest removed from the cabin. With still and stealthy step 
 they stole towards the cabin. By some means they effected an 
 entrance. Wetzel was made a prisoner before he could leave 
 his bed. He was bound hand and foot, swiftly carried to a 
 boat, transported to the fort, heavily manacled with iron fetters, 
 and thrown into a guard room. 
 
 Picture to yourself a caged eagle. Now, maddened with 
 fury at his restraint, he dashed himself in frantic frenzy against 
 the imprisoning bars. Now, beaten back, bruised and bleeding. 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 455 
 
 he sinks in exhaustion upon the floor, still quivering with the 
 violence of his passion. Now he stands and looks out with 
 unutterable melancholy into the blue expanse, whither his soar 
 ing spirit burns to mount on majestic pinion. As he gazes 
 upward he presses toward the bars. His wings expand; he 
 has forgotten his narrow prison. He is about to fly. Just 
 then the prison wall catches his attention. The wings droop. 
 His imperious eye blazes with the fires of rage and scorn. His 
 unconquerable spirit, baffled in its infinite yearnings for freedom, 
 yet lifts him far above his captors. He spurns their kindness. 
 He refuses their attentions. Imprisoned, broken-hearted, to all 
 outward appearances crushed, he yet maintains his lofty pride, 
 and from his lowly prison looks down with indescribable scorn 
 upon his brutal keepers. As Napoleon on the lonely rock of 
 St. Helena, as Mary, Queen of Scots, in the English jail, the 
 monarch, though dethroned, is monarch still. 
 
 Such was Wetzel in captivity, the man, who of all men, 
 prompted by the tremendous bent of his own wild nature, had 
 led a life of the most unrestrained liberty and the wildest free- 
 doin. "Let me not live longer, strangled and suffocated by 
 these choking prison walls," said he to General Harmar. " I 
 have lived like a man, let me die like one. Let the Indians 
 form a circle. Place me in the center, with no weapon but my 
 knife, and let us fight it out till I am gone." There in the cell 
 of that frontier fort the brave but illiterate borderer, who had 
 devoted his life to rescuing the beautiful valley of the Ohio 
 from the hands of barbarous savages, unwittingly re-echoed the 
 sentiment of the great Virginia orator before the senate, "Give 
 me liberty, or give me death." 
 
 It proved to be liberty. General Harmar, strongly impressed 
 by the rugged courage of Wetzel, arid his fierce love of freedom, 
 ordered his guards to remove the fetters from his limbs, leaving 
 on the handcuffs, and take him out each day for a walk i$ the 
 open air. Once outside the fort, Wetzel began to run, jump, 
 and caper around his guards, as if overjoyed at his freedom. 
 
456 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 When they would turn to pursue him, he would stop, and laugh 
 ingly return. Each time he ran a little further, but returned 
 quietly, until his guards, refusing to be teased longer, quit pur- 
 
 WETZEL'S ESCAPE FROM THE GUARDS. 
 
 suing him. At this moment Wetzel summoned all his strength, 
 and with a bound, disappeared in the forest. 
 
 Four days they searched for him. Once two of his pursuers 
 sat upon the very log in which he lay concealed. His object 
 was to cross the Ohio. With the fetters still on his wrists he 
 could neither build a raft nor swim. Every point on the river, 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 457 
 
 where he could have procured a canoe, was guarded. Making 
 his way to a spot opposite the cabin of a settler named Wise 
 man, with whom he was acquainted, he succeeded in attracting 
 his friend's attention. The latter brought him across under 
 cover of night. A file removed the handcuffs. 
 
 Once on the Virginia side Wetzel felt safe. Every cabin 
 contained warm and true-hearted friends, who would willingly 
 shed their blood in his defense. Borrowing a gun and blanket, 
 Wetzel again set out for his Kentucky hunt. At Point Pleas 
 ant Wetzel went ashore. He was here some days among his 
 friends, when one day he met Captain Kingsbury on the street. 
 This gentleman had, been stationed there without Wetzel's 
 knowing it. Both men were startled at the meeting. After a 
 moment's gaze, Wetzel slowly and cautiously backed away 
 without being molested. 
 
 Lewis again embarked on the Ohio for his trip to Ken 
 tucky, this time accomplishing the undertaking. Here he 
 passed his life in the wild, free manner which he had chosen 
 for his own. Long hunts, Indian scouts, shooting matches, 
 fiddle playing, foot-racing, wrestling these were his occupa 
 tions. His head-quarters were at Washington, now Mason 
 County, Kentucky. 
 
 General Harmar, meanwhile, had moved his head-quarters 
 to Fort Washington, on the site of which is now Cincinnati. 
 Learning that Wetzel was in Kentucky, he offered a large 
 reward for his capture. No one, however, seemed willing to 
 attempt it. Wetzel, meanwhile, took no pains to conceal him 
 self. One evening a detachment of soldiers, who were descend 
 ing the Ohio, landed at Maysville for rest and refreshment. 
 One or two of the company strolled into a tavern, and discov 
 ered Wetzel sitting on a bench in the bar-room. At this time he 
 was about twenty-six years old. He was ^omewhat less than 
 six feet in height, but of immense breadth across the shoulders, 
 and possessing arms and limbs of immense size and prodigious 
 muscular development. His skin was dark, his face deeply 
 
458 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 marked by small-pox. His jet-black eyes were as piercing as 
 dagger-points. The most remarkable thing, however, about the 
 appearance of this modern Samson was his hair. It was coal- 
 black, and when combed out reached to the calves of his legs. 
 He was exceedingly careful of his hair, and wore it braided and 
 knotted about his shoulders. 
 
 Wetzel apprehended no danger. The soldiers left the tavern 
 carelessly. Once outside, they hurried to rally the entire com 
 pany for his capture. One by one they sauntered into the 
 bar-room. Still Wetzel sat unconcernedly playing on a fiddle. 
 Suddenly, at a preconcerted signal, twenty men jumped on him. 
 He was again a prisoner. 
 
 When the news spread through the valley that Wetzel was 
 a prisoner at Cincinnati, and was to be tried for his life for the 
 murder of the Indian at Fort Harmar, the frontiersmen from far 
 and near cursed the government which so little understood 
 Indian warfare. They did more. A conspiracy was laid for 
 the rescue of Wetzel and the massacre of the garrison at Cin 
 cinnati. Petitions poured in upon General Harmar for his 
 release. A scout who had just been through Kentucky, 
 reported to Harmar that the frontiersmen would wipe the set 
 tlement, ( fort, and troops from the face of the earth unless 
 Wetzel was liberated. At this point Wetzel's friends procured 
 a writ of habeas corpus, to be issued from the bench of the 
 young court of Ohio. Through this great defender of personal 
 liberty Wetzel's release was procured. 
 
 The grounds of the release are not before us. We can 
 easily see what they may or must have been. The murder of 
 the Indian was a civil offense, and it is more than doubtful 
 whether a military court could lawfully exercise any jurisdiction 
 in the matter. There was no indictment or information against 
 Wetzel, and no warrant for his arrest other than the order of 
 General Harmar. There was no evidence at hand to prove that 
 he had committed the murder, for the deed was without wit 
 nesses, and it was unlawful to force Wetzel to criminate himself. 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 459 
 
 So he went free. His rough companions celebrated his libera 
 tion with a supper and jollification. 
 
 At every step Wetzei met with adventures. Returning to 
 West Virginia, he accepted an invitation to visit a young man 
 residing on Dunkard's Creek. When he and his friend reached 
 the spot where should have stood the cabin home of the host, 
 they found only a heap of smoking embers. Wetzei made a 
 hurried examination of the ground, and reported that the depre 
 dation had been committed by three savages and what seemed 
 to be a white companion ; that they had a prisoner, a young 
 woman, with them, and that they had retreated toward the 
 Ohio. The captive was none other than the young man's sweet 
 heart and betrothed. Love lent wings to the stricken man, and 
 Wetzei was the comrade, of all others, to render his friend 
 invaluable assistance in such a crisis. 
 
 Instant pursuit was begun. The trail had been carefully 
 concealed, but Wetzei confidently pushed on to the Ohio. Rest 
 ing only a few hours in the middle of the night, they galloped 
 on for two days. They were in a quiet valley, surrounded by 
 velvety hills. Wetzel's keen eye caught sight of something 
 which caused him to rein in sharply. It was the print of the 
 heel of a little shoe. Traveling thirty-six hours, without sight 
 of the trail, he had here recovered the clue. Pressing on eagerly 
 they at last discovered the savages lolling about their camp-fire. 
 In their midst sat the girl, her eyes swollen with weeping and 
 her face filled with unutterable distress. At the sight the fran 
 tic lover well-nigh ruined all by his impulsiveness. Controlling 
 him with difficulty, Wetzei instructed him to take careful aim 
 at one savage while he fired at another. At the fire the tAvo 
 savages were killed. While the lover leaped in to rescue the 
 girl, the other two of her captors took to the forest with Wetzei 
 in pursuit, nor did he relinquish it until both Indians fell, mor 
 tally wounded. 
 
 As the Indian wars of the Ohio valley gradually approached 
 their end, Wetzei, unfitted for any settled mode of life, and, 
 
400 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 perhaps, tired at the prospect of a monotonous peace, planned 
 for himself an expedition to the far South. Once in New 
 Orleans, our brave Indian fighter, like many another child of 
 the backwoods, seems to have succeeded, without loss of time, 
 in forming intimate associations with the worst kind of ruffians, 
 which formed a large part of the population of the Crescent 
 City. He managed, in short order, to get himself thrown into 
 a Spanish prison, on the charge of making counterfeit money. 
 Another .charge made against him was an amour with the wife 
 of some Spaniard. 
 
 For two years he occupied a dark stone dungeon, loaded 
 with heavy irons. Through the intervention of the United 
 States, he was at last set at liberty and sent back to his old 
 home at Wheeling. He remained only a few days. Then with 
 darkened brow and fearful imprecations, this long-haired son 
 of thunder, started back to the South to avenge himself, as he 
 said, on a Spaniard named Anelota. His trip was made. Months 
 afterwards he again appeared in Wheeling. What bloody deed 
 of vengeance he had wrought, no one knew. 
 
 These meager fragments of the tale of this imprisonment in 
 a Spanish dungeon, of the story of a Spanish amour, of hoards 
 of ill-gotten and unlawful money, of an enemy who had thrown 
 his toils about him and involved him in a fearful confinement, 
 of the journey for revenge to the passionate South, of the dark 
 curtain of mystery and impenetrable reserve with which Wetzel 
 covered the past, are all that have come down to us. Yet they 
 would furnish some American Dumas the clue to a romance 
 which would rival those of the illustrious French writer. 
 
 Though changed in personal appearance by his long impris 
 onment in the- slimy Bastile of the South, Wetzel retained his 
 old appetite for hunting, and, on his return to Wheeling, seemed 
 for awhile to enjoy as in bygone years his tramps, gun in hand, 
 through the forests. He was employed by surveyors and land 
 speculators to aid them in their explorations, and, it is said, even 
 went with one party across the Rocky Mountains. 
 

PARTY. 
 
THE EXPLOITS OF WETZEL. 463 
 
 But the "valley" was no longer what it. had been. The 
 wedding procession, making its way in joyous freedom through 
 the darkling woods that skirted the stream, was no more 
 startled from its loud hilarity by the sudden burst of the am 
 buscade by the river. Very rarely was a straggling Indian 
 to be met with. The game was rapidly disappearing. Set 
 tled farms and pleasant cottages were taking the place of 
 the decaying stockades and dismantled block-houses. Sick 
 at heart, Wetzel went south for the last time, taking up his 
 abode near Natchez. He lived without work, and died in 
 the summer of 1808, being then forty-eight years old. He 
 never married. Being questioned on the subject by the 
 wife of a friend whom he visited, he said, "I never intend to 
 marry. There is no woman on this earth for me, but I expect 
 there is one for me in heaven." Lewis Wetzel, on a larger 
 scale, is but the representative of a host of brave scouts and 
 Indian fighters who took part with himself in the long strug 
 gles of the Ohio valley. To us, he is a desperado. To the 
 settlers of that day he was a hero. 
 
464 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 OHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 THE COURAGE OF KENTON. 
 
 AITHFUL, rugged, and bold, the character of 
 Simon Kenton is rarely equaled among the 
 pioneers of the Ohio valley. He was by birth 
 a Virginian, born in 1755, the long-remembered 
 year of Braddock's defeat. He was reared an 
 ignorant farm boy. The doors of a school- 
 house were never opened to him, and labor 
 early marked him for her child. Beneath the 
 rough youth's exterior throbbed a warm and affectionate heart. 
 In the neighborhood of Kenton's home lived a young lady, 
 whose spirited manners, personal charms, and coquettish arts 
 had fascinated many a less susceptible young man than Kenton. 
 The maiden of the frontier, like others of her sex in gentler 
 situations, is full of stratagems. This belle of the border pre 
 tended to be interested in Kenton, who was but sixteen years 
 old, and in another young fellow named Leitchman, some years 
 Kenton's senior. All her ingenuity was exerted to bring about a 
 conflict between these two suitors. She succeeded. Kenton sent 
 a challenge to his rival. He repaired to the appointed spot alone, 
 and was surprised to find Leitchman accompanied by a number 
 of his friends, who at once assailed him with a volley of insults. 
 Kenton, burning with jealousy and wrath, stripped himself of 
 all but his pants and prepared to fight. The combat had pro 
 ceeded but a few moments when Kenton's superior skill became 
 manifest. Seeing their friend about to be punished severely, 
 Leitchman's companions jumped upon Kenton and pounded, 
 beat, and kicked him until he was nearly dead. 
 
I 
 
 THE CO URA GE OF KENT ON. 465 
 
 Kenton recovered from his injuries, but not from the insult. 
 In the following spring he went over to Leitchman's house, and 
 announced that he was ready to fight it out. In the combat 
 which followed, Leitchman, more wary than before, succeeded 
 in throwing Kenton to the ground, and at once sprang on him 
 with malignant fury. Kenton lay still, enduring this severe 
 punishment till his eye caught sight of a bush growing near by. 
 He at once conceived a terrible revenge. He managed to lure 
 his rival, who had remarkably long hair, to the spot where the 
 bush grew. Watching his opportunity, he made a sudden and 
 violent effort, sprang to his feet, pushed his foe into the bush, 
 and quickly wrapped his long hair around its thick, tangled 
 branches. Leitchman gave an unearthly roar of pain. 
 
 In that moment the long-suppressed rage burst forth from 
 Kenton's heart. He took revenge terrible and complete for all 
 his injuries, and leaving Leitchman for dead, he cast a last 
 glance at his gasping foe, and then fled. Fled, he knew not 
 whither, but any place to escape the pursuers with which his 
 imagination peopled the woods through which he sped. Day 
 and night passed, and he paused not. 
 
 In time he reached a region where the settlers were talking 
 about the wonderful country of Kantuckee. In their stories it 
 was an earthly paradise, an Eden in the wilderness. He fell in 
 with two explorers, Yager and Strader. Yager had been a cap 
 tive among the Indians, and claimed to have visited this El Do 
 rado of the west. Fired by his glowing descriptions, his two 
 companions resolved to join him in his search for this wonderful 
 region, where fruits blushed unseen on the branches of trees 
 which the hand of man had never planted ; where fields of gol 
 den grain sprang spontaneously from the fertile soil and ripened 
 untended beneath the summer sun; where the forests were 
 stocked with supplies of rare and noble game, exhaustless and 
 unequaled. 
 
 A boat was built, provisions gathered, and the trio of excited 
 adventurers commenced their journey down the Ohio. Days 
 
466 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 went by, but the Land of Promise did not appear. For weary 
 weeks they journeyed, but Yager, whose memory of the beauty 
 and luxuriance of the region was so vivid, was unable to locate 
 it. Worn out with searching for a country which was a myth, 
 they turned their attention to hunting and trapping on the great 
 Kanawha. This profitable occupation they followed for two 
 years, exchanging their furs with the traders at Fort Pitt for 
 such things as they needed. 
 
 One evening in March, 1773, they were lying around their 
 camp-fire in the forest, when a dozen shots were fired at them 
 from the darkness. Strader was shot dead. Ken ton and Yager 
 took to flight, leaving behind them guns, ammunition, and 
 all the accumulation of the two years' work. For five days 
 they wandered through the woods, tortured with hunger and 
 benumbed with cold. At sunset on the last day, to their great 
 joy, they fell in with a party of traders. 
 
 Kenton soon obtained another rifle, and again began his for 
 est life. He took part in Dunm ore's war in 1774, acting as a 
 scout. In the summer of 1775 he determined to join a party 
 of explorers and again make search for the country which Yager 
 had described. By careful exploration of the country for miles 
 on either side of the Ohio, they at length reached a region 
 which indeed afforded some basis for Yager's tales. In the 
 neighborhood of what is now Maysville, Kentucky, the soil 
 was found to be of wonderful fertility, far exceeding any thing 
 in the Ohio valley, a reputation which it bears to this day. 
 Here too, the eyes of the hunters brightened at the sight of 
 vast herds of buffalo. Elk of rare size, were found in great 
 numbers. The explorers were beside themselves. On the site 
 of what is now Washington, Mason County, Kentucky, they 
 cleared an acre of ground, and planted it with Indian corn. 
 Here, in comfortable cabins, they made their home. Such for 
 tune in hunting as they had surpassed their wildest dreams. 
 
 One day Kenton, while roaming along the banks of the Lick 
 ing River, heard moans from the direction of some bushes. 
 
THE COURAGE OF KENTON. 467 
 
 Curious and alarmed, the trapper made his way with caution to 
 the spot. He was astonished to find two white men lying on 
 the ground, almost destitute of clothing and emaciated by star 
 vation. The hunter hurriedly prepared them some food, and 
 then started to conduct them to his cabin. The journey proved 
 too much for the exhausted men, and a camp had to be pitched 
 in the woods. 
 
 The unfortunate strangers related their story. Some time 
 previous they had been descending the Ohio, when their boat 
 capsized. All their supplies were lost. They saved their lives 
 by swimming. But the hardships of the wilderness, finding 
 them without food, cover, or arms, "o'ercame them quite." 
 They had given up all hope when found by Kenton. The hun 
 ter informed them of his station, and invited them to join him 
 and his companions there. One of the men accepted the invi 
 tation, but the other declared his intention to abandon the for 
 est life forever. 
 
 Leaving Hendricks in the camp at the Blue Licks, without 
 a gun, but well supplied with provisions, Kenton and his two 
 companions, who had been with him on the hunt, courteously 
 accompanied Fitzpatrick, who was eager to commence his home 
 ward journey, as far as the "Point," by which name the site 
 of Maysville was known. Bidding him farewell, they retraced 
 their steps to the camp to rejoin Hendricks. To their great 
 concern it was found deserted. The tent was thrown down and 
 its contents scattered about. A number of bullets were found 
 lodged in the neighboring trees. At a little distance was a 
 .ravine. A cloud of thick, white smoke, as if from a newly 
 kindled fire, hovered over it. 
 
 That Hendricks had been captured by Indians was plain. 
 That they themselves were in danger was no less so, and a 
 hasty retreat was at once begun. They were halted at a dis 
 tance of a few miles by some stinging rebukes from Kenton, 
 who declared that common humanity demanded that an effort 
 be made to save Hendricks. Caution compelled them to wait 
 
468 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 till nightfall. Under Kenton's lead they then made their way 
 back to the camp. The fire was still dimly glowing. No 
 Indians were near. 
 
 As the men proceeded to reconnoiter the locality, one of 
 them kicked a round object lying on the ground. It rolled 
 nearer the fire. He stooped 'to pick it up. He saw what the 
 object was. It was Hendricks's skull! The poor fellow had 
 been roasted and eaten. Sadly enough Kenton and his com 
 rades made their way to the cabin at Washington. Not for 
 several months did they behold the face of a human being. 
 One lazy September day, Kenton was startled to discover a 
 man at some distance. The stranger came nearer. His com 
 plexion was white. He informed Kenton that there were other 
 white men in Kentucky besides himself and his companions. 
 Daniel Boone had already founded a settlement in the interior. 
 Tired of solitude, Kenton and his companions broke up the set 
 tlement at Washington, and repaired to Boonsborough. 
 
 In 1778 Kenton met with a remarkable adventure. -He was 
 with an expedition led by Daniel Boone against an Indian town 
 on Paint Creek. While scouting some distance ahead of the 
 main force, he was startled by a loud laugh. To conceal him 
 self in a thicket was the work of a moment. Two large Indians 
 mounted on one small pony rode along the path, laughing and 
 joking in high glee. Kenton fired at short range, killing not 
 only the first Indian, through whose body the ball passed, but 
 wounding the second. 
 
 The scout sprang forward to scalp the wounded Indian, 
 when a noise from a thicket attracted his attention. He turned 
 to find two guns aimed at him by a couple of stalwart savages. 
 Kenton jumped to one side just in time to miss the deadly 
 balls. Without delay he sought the best shelter the place 
 afforded. Before his gun was reloaded a dozen Indians were 
 on a dead run toward him. The result would in all probability 
 have been fatal to Kenton, had not Boone's party, alarmed by 
 the sight of the riderless pony, which had galloped toward 
 
THE COURAGE OF KENTON. 469 
 
 them when relieved of its riders, hurried to the rescue. Sev 
 eral Indians fell dead at the first fire. 
 
 Knowing that his approach was now discovered at the 
 Indian town, Boone resolved on instant retreat. Not so with 
 Kenton. He and a friend named Montgomery left the party, 
 and proceeded alone to a neighborhood of the village. All day 
 they lay in ambush in a corn-field, hoping that some Indian 
 would come out to gather roasting ears. Disappointed in this 
 expectation, they entered the town after night, captured four 
 good horses, made a rapid night ride to the Ohio, which they 
 swam in safety, and on the second day reached Logan's Fort 
 with their booty. 
 
 No sooner was the restless Kenton through with this adven 
 ture than he set out on a scout with Montgomery and a young 
 man named Clark to an Indian town on the Little Maumee 
 River, against which an expedition was contemplated by the 
 whites. Under cover of night a thorough investigation of the 
 place and the number of its warriors was made. Having accom 
 plished this, the scouts might have returned in safety. But the 
 temptation to steal some horses was too strong to be resisted. 
 In their greed they determined to take every horse in the vil 
 lage. Unfortunately they had attempted too much, and were 
 discovered. The scouts saw their peril and rode for their lives, 
 but were unwilling to abandon a single horse. Two rode in front 
 and led the horses, while the third plied his whip from behind. 
 
 They were checked in their furious career by a swamp, in 
 an attempt to avoid which they occupied the whole night. On 
 the morning of the second day they had reached the Ohio. The 
 wind was high, the river rough, the crossing dangerous. Ken- 
 ton resolved to swim the horses across, while his companions 
 hurriedly framed a raft on which to transport their guns and 
 baggage. Again and again Kenton forced the horses into the 
 water, but as often the ' animals, frightened by the boisterous 
 waves, turned about, and swam back to shore. 
 
 No time was to be lost. The Indians were in hot pursuit. 
 
 26 
 
470 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Instead of abandoning the horses, which could not be made to 
 cross the river, the trio still clung to their plunder and started 
 down the banks of the Ohio. When the setting sun flung his 
 red radiance over the stormy river, tipping the waves with crim 
 son splendor, the horse-thieves still found themselves unable to 
 cross. Totally infatuated, the three men encamped for the 
 night. At dawn they awoke, rejoiced to find the river as placid 
 as the blue morning sky which arched above them. But horses 
 have memories, and the captive equines, mindful of their former 
 experience, stubbornly refused to enter the water. Blows and 
 curses were unavailing. For the white men but one course 
 remained. Each mounted a horse, determined to ride to a point 
 opposite Louisville, where they could obtain transportation. 
 
 It was too late. Scarcely had they ridden a hundred yards 
 when the furious pursuers were heard in their rear. The for 
 tunes of the scouts were widely different. Clark escaped. 
 Montgomery was killed. Kenton was taken prisoner. Among 
 the stolen horses was a wild colt, a vicious and powerful ani 
 mal. Kenton was placed astride this animal, his hands tied 
 behind him, and his feet bound together under the horse's 
 belly. The animal was then turned loose without rein or bridle. 
 A terrible cut from a whip caused it to dash furiously into the 
 forest. On, on it went, its defenseless rider being scratched, 
 bruised, and torn by the overhanging limbs of the trees. 
 
 Though blinded by the blood which flowed down his lacer 
 ated face, Kenton escaped without fatal injury. He was taken 
 to the famous Indian town of Old Chillicothe. For amusement 
 his guards beat his naked back and shoulders with hickory 
 switches. Of all the borderers of the time no one was better 
 known, more greatly feared, and so bitterly hated as Simon 
 Kenton. 
 
 At his appearance the inhabitants of the town were beside 
 themselves with rage. Their fury found no words adequate to 
 give it utterance. Foaming at the mouth, they gave it vent in 
 inarticulate and blood-curdling howls and curses. A stake was 
 
THE COURAGE OF KENTON. 471 
 
 driven in the ground. To this the captive was tied, with his 
 hands extended above him and fastened to the top of the stake. 
 He was painted black. Instead of the torture fires being 
 applied at once, the savages, choked with speechless rage, 
 danced and howled around him until midnight, pelting him with 
 stones, lacerating him with switches, and searing his body with 
 red-hot irons. 
 
 The rare pleasure of the occasion was prolonged by his grim 
 captors. In the morning he was ordered to run the gauntlet. 
 At the beat of a drum he started down the line of warriors, 
 armed with clubs, hoe handles, tomahawks, and butcher knives. 
 Again and again he was felled to the ground by his ferocious 
 assailants. When the race was over, and he lay bloody and 
 unconscious in the corner of a cabin, a council was held in the 
 village. The assembled warriors were unanimous in their opin 
 ion that such fun had not been enjoyed for many a year. They 
 generously resolved to share the sport with the other villages. 
 Kenton was accordingly dragged about from town to town. 
 Once the poor man attempted an escape. The pursuit was 
 instant and keen. 
 
 Kenton put forth all his powers. At every step he remem 
 bered that he was flying from the stake and the red-hot irons. 
 But he was retaken and carried back back to beatings and 
 bruising, back to searing irons and the cruel gauntlet, back to 
 the dreadful stake and the torturing flames. 
 
 He was taken to Wapputomica, where his execution was to 
 end his sufferings. He arrived there just as Simon Girty, the 
 notorious renegade, returned from an unsuccessful expedition. 
 When the angry monster saw Kenton, he saluted him by knock 
 ing him down with his brutal fist. Too weak to rise, Kenton 
 called to Girty for protection. For once in his life a prayer for 
 mercy was not unheard by Girty. He paused. He scanned 
 the emaciated stranger closely. He asked his name. As the 
 word " Kenton " was feebly murmured, Girty, with a start of 
 surprise, seized the fallen man in his arms and lifted him to a 
 
472 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 couch. The savages looked on in wonder. Such a thing had 
 never been known before. Bloodier than the bloodiest, crueler 
 than the cruelest, had ever been Simon Girty, a savage born 
 amid civilization, an Indian who was the child of white parents. 
 
 The white chief sent forth a summons for a council. The 
 dark audience assembled. On the rows of faces ranged round 
 the room, rigid as if carved in ebony, not a trace of curiosity 
 could be seen. But beneath every blanket beat a heart filled 
 with fierce and cynical wonder. For some moments there was 
 silence in the council hall. 
 
 Then Girty arose. He strode forward to the center of the 
 room. He recounted the story of his own life; of how he had 
 renounced the cause of the white man, and become an Indian of 
 Indians ; of his enormous services to the Wyandots, and of the 
 rows of white men's scalps which decorated his cabin. He asked 
 if he had ever been accused of mercy to the race from which 
 he sprang. Yet, for this single time, he had a favor to ask. 
 That favor was the life of a friend. That friend was Simon 
 Kenton, the wretched captive lying there on that blanket. 
 Many years before, said the orator, in rugged and convulsive 
 eloquence, he and that captive had been brothers. They had 
 slept under the same blanket. They had hunted through the 
 same forests. They had dwelt in the same wigwam. For his 
 own sake he asked that the life of the captive be spared. 
 
 Girty's influence was great. But the Wyandots regarded 
 Kenton as their arch-enemy. The dbbate raged long and loud. 
 At length the vote was taken. The captive was saved. Girty 
 took Kenton to his own wigwam. For three weeks he remained 
 there, recovering from his injuries. 
 
 At the end of twenty-one days new war party returned. 
 Many of their number had been slain. The families of the dead 
 demanded vengeance. A cry rang through the village for the 
 life of Kenton. A council was called. Speaker after speaker 
 arose, and with vehement gesture and heavy emphasis, argued 
 that Kenton must be put to death. Girty again put forth all 
 
THE COURAGE OF KENT ON. 473 
 
 his powers to save his friend. But he was overwhelmed. The 
 sentence of death was passed. 
 
 Kenton was bound and marched away to another village. 
 An old Indian was sitting by the roadside. As he caught sight 
 of Kenton a spasm of passionate hate convulsed his sullen fea 
 tures. He sprang forward, and with a blow from his toma 
 hawk cut open Kenton's shoulder, breaking the bone, and almost 
 severing the arm from the body. In this condition he was 
 driven on to Sandusky, arriving there in the evening. Arrange 
 ments were at once made to burn him alive on the follow 
 ing morning. 
 
 By strange coincidence a British Indian agent was in the 
 town. Learning of Kenton's arrival, he at once demanded the 
 captive, in order that the commandant at Detroit might obtain 
 from him information of the enemy. The Indians consented to 
 give him up only on condition that he be returned to them. 
 That condition was never kept. He remained at Detroit, under 
 mild restraint, from October, 1777, to June, 1778. In the lat 
 ter month he resolved upon an escape, taking into his confidence 
 two young Kentuckians, captives like himself. By great adroit 
 ness Kenton managed to get possession of three guns and some 
 ammunition. After a journey of thirty days through a wilder 
 ness infested by Indian war parties, the three refugees arrived 
 at Louisville. 
 
 " Thus," says a writer, " terminated one of the most remark 
 able series of adventure in the whole realm of western history. 
 Kenton was eight times exposed to the gauntlet, and three 
 times tied to the stake for execution. For three weeks he 
 vibrated between life and death. Yet, amid the changes of 
 fickle fortune, he remained perfectly passive. No wisdom, fore 
 sight, or exertion could have saved him. Fortune, and fortune 
 alone, fought his battle from first to last." 
 
 For many years, Kenton continued to be one of the most 
 formidable Indian fighters of the valley. Through the details 
 of his eventful career we may not follow him. One incident is 
 
474 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 worth mentioning. While at Detroit, an English officer observ 
 ing his fondness for smoking, and the difficulty of lighting his 
 pipe, presented him with a fine burning glass or lens, by which 
 the tobacco could easily be kindled from the rays of the sun. 
 Two or three years afterward Kenton was again taken prisoner. 
 He was bound hand and foot, preparatory to an immediate exe 
 cution. As his last request to his captors, he asked the privi 
 lege of smoking his pipe. He placed the long, wooden stem in 
 his mouth. The chief handed him the customary flint, steel, and 
 tinder for lighting the tobacco. 
 
 With a gesture of indifference, Kenton refused the imple 
 ments, to the great astonishment of the savage. Extending 
 his hand toward the midday sun, cleverly grasping the burning- 
 glass, he adroitly focused the rays in the pipe bowl and was 
 quickly puffing clouds of smoke from his lips. The Indians 
 were dumfounded. Not having noticed the glass, they sup- 
 possed he . had lighted his pipe by letting the sunlight pass 
 through the circle formed by his thumb and forefinger. Awe- 
 stricken and amazed, they grouped together at a little distance, 
 with mutterings and grunts of wonder. 
 
 In a little while, Kenton refilled his pipe, and repeated the 
 trick, accompanying it with three or four cries, mysterious and 
 startling to the Indians. No one understood better than Ken- 
 ton the superstition of their minds. Seizing his advantage, lie 
 made a sweeping gesture, clasping his hands above his head, 
 and transferring the glass to his left hand. In a moment he 
 had kindled some dry leaves at his side into a flame. 
 
 Struggling to his feet, tied though they were, and giving a 
 terrific leap, such as Kenton alone could make, he brought him 
 self to the pile of fagots which had been gathered for his tor 
 ture. In a moment a flame blazed up around the stake as if 
 the victim were already fastened to it. Kenton then beckoned 
 to the chief to unbind his ankles. The mystified Indian durst 
 not disobey such a man. While fumbling at the thongs, Kenton 
 raised his burning-glass, and in a moment raised a blister on the 
 
' ' ''" :" ' _ : ." i ' '< '<.' '. ..fe'/. 1 [ : J Ai 
 
THE COURAGE OF KENTON. 477 
 
 red man's wrist. He jerked his hand away with a howl of 
 pain only to feel a spot of fire on his head. This was too much. 
 The chief and his companions hurriedly got behind the nearest 
 trees. Kenton then unbound his own ankles. Waving his arms 
 towards the sun, he withdrew the stopple from a powder-horn, 
 dropped by the Indians, focused the sunbeams upon the powder 
 within, and shook his fist at his foes. In an instant the powder- 
 horn exploded with a flash and roar. Not only had the pow 
 der-horn disappeared. The Indians left at the same instant. 
 Kenton was free. 
 
 The later career of Kenton is a strange illustration of the 
 reverses in the fortunes of men. When the Indian wars were 
 over, the brave and generous Kenton found himself without an 
 occupation. The lands which he had bought were lost to him 
 through technical flaws in the title. He had braved the toma 
 hawk, the gauntlet, and the stake in vain. The people who 
 now came in to occupy and possess the fair region, to redeem 
 which from the savages he had devoted the best years of his 
 life, found no use for the old scout. His very body was taken 
 for debt. He was imprisoned for a year on the very spot where 
 he had built the first cabin, planted the first corn, and fought 
 the savages in a hundred fierce encounters. 
 
 Beggared by losses and law-suits, he moved to Ohio about 
 the beginning of this century. He was elected brigadier-general 
 of the State militia, and was a soldier of the war of 1812. In 
 1810 he joined the Methodist Episcopal Church, and ever after 
 lived a consistent Christian life. After the war of 1812 he 
 returned to his lonely cabin in the woods, near Urbana, Ohio. 
 In 1820 he moved to Mad River, in sight of the old Indian town 
 of Wappatomica, where he had once been tied to the stake. 
 Even here he was pursued by judgments and executions from 
 the courts of Kentucky. He still had some large tracts of 
 mountain lands in Kentucky which were forfeited for taxes. He 
 tried boring for salt on them, but failed. His last resource was 
 an appeal to the Kentucky Legislature to release the forfeiture. 
 
478 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 " So," says McClung, " in 1824, when about seventy years 
 old, he mounted his sorry old horse, and, in his tattered gar 
 ments, commenced his weary pilgrimage. The second night he 
 stopped at the house of James Galloway, of Xenia, Ohio, an 
 old friend and pioneer. 
 
 " Kenton at last reached Frankfort, now become a thrifty 
 and flourishing city. Here he was utterly unknown. All his 
 old friends had departed. His dilapidated appearance and the 
 sorry condition of his horse and its wretched equipments only 
 provoked mirth. The grizzled old pioneer was like Rip Van 
 Winkle appearing after his long sleep. He wandered up and 
 down the streets, /the observed of all observers.' The very 
 boys followed him. At length, the scarred old warrior was 
 recognized by General Fletcher, an old companion-in-arms. He 
 grasped him by the hand, led him to a tailor-shop, bought him a 
 suit of clothes and hat, and, after he was dressed, took him to 
 the State capitol. 
 
 "Here he was placed in the speaker's chair, and introduced 
 to a crowded assembly of judges, citizens, and legislators, as 
 the second pioneer of Kentucky. The simple-minded veteran 
 used to say afterwards that 'it was the very proudest day of 
 his life/ and ten years subsequently, his friend Hinde asserted, 
 he was wearing the self-same hat and clothes. His lands were 
 at once released, and shortly after, by the warm exertion of 
 some of his friends, a pension from Congress of two hundred 
 and fifty dollars was obtained, securing his old age from abso 
 lute want. 
 
 " Without any further marked notice, Kenton lived in his 
 humble cabin until 1836, when, at the venerable old age of 
 eighty-one, he breathed his last, surrounded by his family and 
 neighbors, and supported by the consolations of the Gospel. 
 He died in sight of the very spot where the savages, nearly 
 sixty years previous, proposed to torture him to death. 
 
 "General Kenton was of fair complexion, six feet one inch 
 in height. He stood and walked very erect, and, in the prime 
 
THE COURAGE OF KENT ON. 
 
 479 
 
 of life, weighed about a hundred and ninety pounds. He never 
 was inclined to be corpulent, although of sufficient fullness to 
 form a graceful person. He had a soft, tremulous voice, very 
 pleasing to the hearer; auburn hair and laughing gray eyes, 
 which appeared to fascinate the beholder. He was a pleasant, 
 good-humored, and obliging companion. When excited, or pro 
 voked to anger, which was seldom the case, the fiery glance of 
 his eye would almost curdle the blood of those with whom he 
 came in contact. His wrath, when aroused, was a tornado. In 
 his dealings he was perfectly honest. His confidence in man 
 and his credulity were such, that the same man might cheat him 
 twenty times and, if he professed friendship, might still con 
 tinue to cheat him." 
 
 Such was the man after whom was named the county of 
 Kenton, Kentucky. 
 
480 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 BRADY, THE BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 JAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY, the hero of this 
 narrative, was born in 1758, in the town of 
 Shippensburg, Pennsylvania. John Brady, his 
 father, had before him been a brave and adven 
 turous man. On the eleventh day of April, 
 1779, this gentleman, being in command of an 
 exposed post, set out for Fort Augusta, to pro 
 cure supplies of provisions. He had loaded his 
 wagon heavily, and with several guards started early in the 
 afternoon to return. 
 
 At a certain point the road forked. Those in charge of the 
 wagon went one way, while Brady and a companion named 
 Smith, who Avere on horseback, took the shorter cut. The spot 
 was lonely. As the two men rode slowly along, Brady related 
 to his companion an incident in his life which had made a deep 
 impression on his mind. 
 
 The story he told was as follows: In 1776, information 
 had been received at Fort Augusta, of the approach of Indians. 
 Runners were at once dispatched to the neighboring settlements. 
 In the afternoon Brady remembered that they had forgotten to 
 send word to a trading post, occupied by a Dutchman named 
 Derr. He threw himself into his saddle to carry the message. 
 Arriving at his destination, Brady found the yard full of 
 Indians, stretched out on the ground, brutally drunk, while Derr 
 sat calmly by, smoking his pipe, as if nothing unusual had 
 occurred. Brady rebuked him sternly. The Dutchman replied 
 
BRADY, THE BACKWOODSMAN. 
 
 481 
 
 that the Indians had come and informed him that they would 
 kill him unless he gave them liquor. Acting on the hint, he 
 had politely rolled out a barrel of rum for his guests' enter 
 tainment. As he spoke, a drunken Indian, with a long scar on 
 
 his left cheek, staggered toward the half-emptied barrel to take 
 another drink. Brady, however, interfered, and upset the barrel, 
 spilling its contents. The Indian broke out into Curses, and, 
 with bitter emphasis, told Brady that the day would yet come 
 when he would regret that act. 
 
482 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Ever since that time, said the Captain to his companion, the 
 memory of that threat had haunted him. Knowing the Indian 
 character, he believed that if that savage should ever chance to 
 meet him, the threat would be fulfilled by an attempt on his 
 life. By this time the riders had reached a place of exceeding 
 wildness. At that moment three rifles were fired in quick suc 
 cession. Brady dropped lifeless on the road. Smith bounded 
 away. Momentarily glancing back, he saw an Indian standing 
 over his dead friend flourishing a bloody scalp. He also saw 
 that the savage had a long and prominent scar on the left side 
 of his face. 
 
 Such was the fate of the father of Captain Samuel Brady. 
 Only the year before, his younger brother, James, had also been 
 killed by Indians. The young man, with three or four compan 
 ions, had stood their guns against a tree. An Indian suddenly 
 fired, at which the others fled. Brady, however, seized a gun, 
 and shot the savage, only to find himself left to contend alone 
 against a host of enemies. Two other guns he also fired at his 
 foes with fatal effect, but while reaching for the fourth gun was 
 knocked senseless. He was tomahawked, scalped, and left for 
 dead. Coming to conciousness, the plucky fellow managed to 
 <3rawl to a settler's cabin. He lived three or four days, and 
 then died from his wounds. 
 
 In conformity to the wild customs of the frontier, the elder 
 brother took a solemn oath that the remainde" of his life should 
 be devoted to wreaking a dreadful vengeance on the race whose 
 members had thus twice desolated the family circle. 
 
 In 1780 Brady was dispatched from Fort Pitt to the distant 
 towns of the Sandusky on a scout. He chose for his compan 
 ions a few men and four Chickasaw Indians. The season was 
 wet. The streams were swollen beyond their banks. Owing to 
 several mishaps, their provisions ran low. The chart of the 
 country which Brady carried proved to be defective and mis 
 leading. In time ? however, they reached the neighborhood of 
 the Indian towns. 
 
BRADY, THE BACKWOODSMAN. 483 
 
 While stealing through the woods, the sound of human 
 voices broke upon them. Leaving his comrades behind him, 
 Brady slipped forward to make observations. Sitting beside 
 the embers of a camp-fire he found two squaws. He turned 
 back unnoticed, leaving them unharmed. Coming back to his 
 companions, he detected by their sullen looks and gruff answers 
 that something had happened. The young scout sat down 
 unconcernedly to clean his rifle. For some time nothing was 
 said. He then called on the men to hand him their ammuni 
 tion pouches, in order to make an equal distribution of the pow 
 der on hand. Instead of obeying the command, the men flatly 
 refused. They informed Brady that the faithless Chickasaws 
 had deserted, taking with them all the provisions, and that 
 instead of continuing the scout, they had resolved on flight. 
 
 To this startling announcement Brady replied by handing 
 the speaker his powder-horn, and asked him to see how much 
 powder it contained. There was not a grain left. Raising his 
 gun to his shoulder, Brady announced that he had one load yet 
 in the weapon and that he would use to maintain his authority. 
 The men, awed into admiration for their young leader, yielded. 
 Matters having been thus settled, Brady hid all of his company 
 but one man in a ravine. He and his companion then started 
 to the village, wading the river to an island opposite the town, 
 where they lay during the night. 
 
 In the morning a dense fog covered the landscape. At noon 
 it lifted. The astonished spies discovered a vast concourse of 
 Indians, evidently just returned from an expedition against the 
 frontiers, bringing with them a number of fine horses. The 
 crowd was wild with hilarity over some races, by which they 
 were testing the animals and celebrating the occasion. That 
 night Brady, having accomplished the object of his journey, 
 rejoined his men and commenced the return trip. Entirely des 
 titute of provisions they nevertheless subsisted for a time on 
 strawberries. Only one rifle-charge was left in the party. 
 
 The loaded gun was given to Brady. Discovering a deer- 
 
484 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 track, the scout followed it, and, coming within sight of the 
 animal, attempted to fire. To his intense disappointment the 
 gun failed to go off, and the deer fled. Brady picked the 
 touch-hole of the weapon, and was starting in renewed pursuit 
 of the game, when he discovered a party of Indians. They 
 were led by a large and powerful savage on horseback, carrying 
 in his arms a white child. The child's mother rode behind him 
 on the horse. Ten warriors followed the leader. 
 
 Brady was a kind-hearted man. Moreover, he was young, 
 and, therefore, gallant. From his concealment his quick eye 
 perceived that the woman had been brutally mistreated. One 
 of her arms was broken. Her face was a mass of bruises. Brady 
 forgot himself. He raised his gun, and aiming carefully for fear 
 of injury to the mother or her child, fired, the unerring bullet 
 plunging into the heart of the savage. The Indians were par 
 alyzed by fright and confusion. 
 
 Seizing his opportunity, Brady rushed forth, caught the child 
 in one arm, the woman in the other, and disappeared in the 
 brush amid a shower of balls. He was infinitely disgusted to 
 find that his cowardly men had fled, allowing two prisoners to 
 escape. Nevertheless he made his way with his two helpless 
 companions to Fort Mclntosh, and from there to Pittsburgh, 
 where he received the congratulations of General Broadhead. 
 
 Brady's next service was a scout, with a man named Phouts, 
 in the direction of the Susquehanna. Their start was made two 
 hours before day. At evening they halted by a small creek and 
 built a fire. While out hunting they discovered a deer-lick, 
 and, as a consequence, brought into camp some excellent ven 
 ison. The following day, a blue smoke, floating above the top 
 of a distant forest, indicated an Indian camp. They approached 
 cautiously and discovered, to their surprise, one old Indian sit 
 ting by the fire mending his moccasins. Phouts prepared to 
 fire, but Brady prevented him from doing so, and the two men 
 left unobserved. 
 
 A few hours later they came upon a well-defined Indian trail. 
 
BRADY, THE BACKWOODSMAN. 485 
 
 Brady noted the signs, and became convinced that a strong party 
 of Indians had passed there the previous day. He at once deter 
 mined to take the old savage captive, and return forthwith- to 
 Pittsburgh. Early in the morning they returned to the Indian's 
 camp, and found the savage lying on his back by the fire. 
 Brady crept forward toward the Indian, and when within a few 
 feet, gave a whoop and jumped on the prostrate savage. A brief 
 struggle ended in the old fellow being strongly tied. 
 
 On being assured that he would be taken to Pittsburgh 
 unharmed, the captive politely pulled aside some bushes, and 
 pointed out a most excellent canoe. The trio embarked, floating 
 down the creek to the spot where they had encamped the pre 
 vious night, and landed. Here they encamped until morning. 
 Brady rose early and went up the 'creek to where they had 
 left some venison hanging on a tree, which they wanted for 
 breakfast. 
 
 Meanwhile, an interesting little occurrence took place in 
 Brady's absence. The wily Indian complained to Phouts, who 
 was a dull Dutchman, that his cords hurt him, and begged his 
 guard to loosen them for a few moments. The Dutchman, 
 charmed by the docile behavior and extreme humility of the 
 prisoner, took off the cords entirely. 
 
 The old man sat meekly on the ground without a suspicious 
 movement. At a moment when Phouts stooped to fix the fire, 
 the Indian gave a lightning spring toward the Dutchman's gun, 
 which was leaning against a tree, seized it, and fired at point- 
 blank range. In the hurry his aim was bad, and the ball only 
 took off a part of the Dutchman's bullet-pouch. Phouts rushed 
 on the savage, and, with one blow from his tomahawk, clove 
 asunder his skull. Brady, alarmed by the report, hurried back, 
 relieved to find that nothing worse had happened. Their return 
 to Pittsburgh was made without further incident. 
 
 Brady's genius for scouting was soon recognized, and he 
 was constantly employed on the most perilous missions. On one 
 occasion his bravery almost brought about a fatal result. He 
 
486 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 was taken captive by a band of Indians, near Beaver River. 
 He and four companions had come upon an Indian camp. A 
 fire was burning, and near by lay some tempting deer meat. 
 Their hunger overcame their prudence, and the men, roasting the 
 venison, were soon in the midst of a hearty meal. 
 
 It is said that one of the men stopped eating, and suggested 
 that the meat might be poisoned. At that instant there was a 
 report from a dozen rifles. Brady's four companions dropped 
 dead. The Indians, recognizing him, had saved his life only to 
 reserve him for the pleasure of torture. He was taken to their 
 village, given the usual reception of blows and beatings, and was 
 forced to run the gauntlet. The traditional stake, with a pile of 
 fagots, was prepared. Previous to commencing the torture^ 
 he was stripped and a circle of Indians formed around him for 
 a fantastic dance. 
 
 The torture fires were already blazing. He felt that his end 
 was at hand, but still, with cool head and fearless eye, he cal 
 culated the chances of escape. When the dance was at its 
 height, a squaw, carrying in her arms a young child, strode up 
 to Brady and hit him a terrible blow with a war-club. She 
 was about to repeat the outrage when Brady, gathering all his 
 strength, sprang upon her, tore the child from her arms, and 
 threw it clear over the circle of dancers into the flames beyond. 
 The Indians, struck with horror, rushed, as by one thought, to 
 rescue the child. This Brady had foreseen. In the midst of 
 the confusion he dashed through the crowd, overturning every 
 one in his way, and disappearing in a neighboring ravine. 
 
 Another story related of Brady places him in company with 
 sixteen companions. The party was encamped for a night. 
 Towards morning a gun was heard, and the scouts quickly 
 withdrew to an elevated bluff. Beneath them they discovered 
 six Indians standing around a fire. Brady ordered his men to 
 lie down while he kept watch. At day-break he placed them 
 side by side, with himself at the end of the line. At an oppor 
 tune moment Brady touched, with his elbow, the man on his 
 
BRADY, THE BACKWOODSMAN. 487 
 
 left, who in turn communicated it to his neighbor, and so on 
 down the line. When the nudge reached the last man, he fired, 
 followed by all the others. Every Indian in the camp was 
 killed, with perhaps, a single exception. 
 
 Brady and two companions, passing along the northern shore 
 of the Ohio, once reached the neighborhood of a cabin occupied 
 by a man named Gray. Suddenly Brady detected the pres 
 ence of Indians. In the moment of concealing himself Brady 
 saw Gray approaching carelessly on horseback. As the hunter 
 passed him Brady sprang out, dragged him off his horse, 
 and whispered, "I am Sam Brady. For heaven's sake, keep 
 quiet." 
 
 That this summary treatment saved Gray's life there can be 
 no doubt. The four men approached the site of the cabin and 
 discovered it to be a heap of embers. Of Gray's wife and chil 
 dren there was no trace. Gray, frantic with grief, begged his 
 companions to join him in pursuit of the abductors. To Brady 
 such an appeal was never made in vain. In two hours they 
 came upon the Indians, who were there in force. There, bound 
 hand and foot, sat Gray's wife and children. 
 
 The number of the savages so much exceeded that of Brady's 
 party that a night attack was the only hope for the rescue of 
 the captives. At an auspicious moment the four avengers stole 
 noiselessly into the camp and distributed themselves among the 
 sleepers. At a given signal from Brady each man tomahawked 
 the nearest Indians. The survivors, leaping to their feet, 
 bounded into the forest, leaving their captives in the Hands of 
 the white men. 
 
 Probably the most famous of Brady's exploits is that known 
 as "Brady's Leap." He had been pursued by Indians for some 
 distance from Sandusky, and, at last, seemed to be hedged in 
 in all directions. It was a principle with the scout to never 
 surrender. Taking in the situation with a quick glance, he 
 bounded off toward a creek, at a point where it rushed through 
 a rocky gorge. From bank to bank was more than twenty-five 
 
488 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 feet. On his way, Brady hurled two savages to the ground. 
 The whole swarm were following him with wild yells, believing 
 that when he reached the brink of the chasm, he must be forced 
 
 to pause and be 
 come their captive. 
 Rushing forward 
 with the greatest 
 impetuosity, Brady 
 collected all his 
 energies, and as 
 his foot touched 
 the verge of the 
 precipice, he gave 
 a terrific leap, 
 catching the bushes 
 on the steep, rocky 
 cliff of the opposite 
 bank, and quickly 
 [I scrambling to his 
 feet. 
 
 The Indians were 
 dumfounded. It 
 I was not long, how 
 ever, till they made 
 their way around, 
 | and were again in 
 pursuit of Brady. 
 For his part, he had 
 received a bullet in 
 his leg as he jumped 
 the chasm, and found himself unable to maintain his terrific 
 speed. He made his way to a body of water, which still bears 
 the name of "Brady's Lake." He unhesitatingly plunged in, 
 diving to a spot covered by pond lilies. Here he found that 
 he could keep his face under water by breathing through the 
 
 BRADY'S LEAP. 
 
BRADY, THE BACKWOODSMAN. 489 
 
 hollow stem of a weed. The Indians followed his bloody track 
 to the edge of the lake, and concluded that he had committed 
 suicide. When their pursuit was abandoned Brady came out of 
 the water and made his way home. 
 
 In 1786 Captain Brady married a Miss Drucilla Swearingen. 
 Her father, a prominent soldier of the Revolution, objected to 
 the match, but the beautiful young lady, enamored with the 
 prowess and prestige of her lover, married him. The fond and 
 lovely wife suffered greatly in mind during the absences of her 
 brave husband on lengthy scouts. He was always a little lame 
 from the wound received at the time of his famous leap. He 
 also became quite deaf in his old age. This he attributed to 
 his having remained so long under the water of the lake. His 
 last years were spent at West Liberty, West Virginia, where 
 he died. 
 
490 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 OHAPTEE XY. 
 
 THE DAYS OF DA'NIEL BOONE. 
 
 BOOK of American pioneers would be incomplete 
 without a sketch of Daniel Boone, the pioneer 
 of Kentucky. It is not because he had such 
 thrilling adventures, for the experiences of 
 many of the borderers far surpassed those of 
 Boone in wild heroism and wonderful feats. It 
 is the character of Boone which impressed itself 
 upon the minds of his contemporaries, and gives 
 him such a prominent place in the history of the Ohio valley. 
 His grandfather came to this country from England. No fur 
 ther reason need be sought for this move on the part of the 
 old gentleman than the fact that he had nineteen children. He 
 possessed peculiar qualifications for the population of a new 
 country. 
 
 Our hero was born in Berks County, Pennsylvania, but his 
 family removed at an early day to North Carolina. His educa 
 tion consisted in a short term at a school, opened by a wander 
 ing Irishman. The building was a square log structure, with a 
 fire-place occupying one side of the room, and holding a log ten 
 feet long. One day young Boone found himself at a spot where 
 his schoolmaster had been observed to frequently stop. Under 
 some vines he discovered, to his surprise, a bottle of whisky. 
 That night Master Boone took some comrades into his confi 
 dence, and poured into the bottle a quantity of tartar-emetic. 
 Having set up the job, the boys waited on the following 
 morning for the denouement. During recess the boys, with 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 491 
 
 many a poke in one another's ribs, observed the unsuspecting 
 pedagogue going to the spot where the bottle was hidden. He 
 reappeared in a few moments with his face red as fire. The 
 school was called together more quickly than usual, and the 
 urchins trembled on their puncheon seats. The first two schol 
 ars made wretched failures of their lessons, and received terrific 
 thrashings. Boone's turn came next. The Irishman's face was as 
 white as paper. Boone's head was buzzing with curiosity about 
 the whisky bottle, and he too failed. The master began to 
 whip his pupil when the medicine began to take fearful effect. 
 Boone revenged himself for his beating by throwing the wretched 
 man down, at which signal the whole school joined in a shout 
 and ran off. 
 
 We have one other brief glimpse of Boone's boyhood. One 
 evening he failed to return from a hunt. His father and neigh 
 bors set out to search for the missing lad, who was but fourteen 
 years old. At the end of two days the father found the lad living 
 in a temporary hovel of sods and branches. Numerous skins of 
 wild animals decorated the place. A piece of venison was roast 
 ing at the fire. Here the boy was enjoying himself all alone. 
 
 When he arrived at manhood, Boone married Rebecca Bryan. 
 The first explorers brought back glowing reports of Kentucky, 
 and in 1769, Boone, fascinated by these stories, with five com 
 panions, started to view this inland paradise themselves. They 
 built a cabin on Red River, to protect themselves from a 
 tremendous rain, which fell steadily for two weeks. Here they 
 remained almost stationary for six months. The vast droves of 
 buffalo and shadowy herds of deer supplied the men with profit 
 able employment and exciting pleasure. 
 
 On the 22d of December, 1769, Boone and Stuart resolved 
 to explore the interior of the country. In all the six months 
 of their residence in the lovely region, neither the figure or even 
 a foot-print of a savage had been seen. After a few days' jour 
 ney, the men discovered a lofty mountain, which they climbed, 
 in order to obtain a view of the country. Standing on its top, 
 
492 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 their dark figures outlined against the sky, and visible for many 
 miles, the hunters' eyes were gladdened with a view of the fair 
 est landscape in the world. Sloping hills, alternated with lovely 
 valleys; leafless forests, with wide extended plains. Far to 
 the north rolled the peaceful Ohio, beyond which lay expanses 
 of a country destined to be the seat of empire, the home of busy 
 millions. 
 
 Coming down from the mountain, little suspecting any dan 
 ger, the two hunters were startled by a terrific yell just to their 
 right. At the same instant the bushes parted, and dark forms 
 emerging quickly, surrounded them, and they were ' taken 
 prisoners. 
 
 The captives were as yet ignorant of Indian customs. They 
 knew not one word of the language. As the howling captors 
 bound them and marched them off to the forest, Boone did not 
 know but that it might be to his death. He had, however, the 
 cold and self-possessed temper which has in all times charac 
 terized men of action and leadership, a disposition which knows 
 no special joy nor disheartening depression. There was nothing 
 to be done except to obey his savage guards. 
 
 Manners are an art. It has been said that there is a mode 
 of conduct possible which will blind the shrewdest insight and 
 foil the most expert observer. The popular notion of the art of 
 manners assumes that it belongs solely to the refined, the ele 
 gant; that its home is in society, and its disciples the votaries 
 of fashion. Yet the languid belle and the prancing dandy are 
 by no means the only nor the real experts in manners. The 
 shaggy backwoodsman, dressed in the skin of wild animals, 
 speaking in a peculiar dialect of frontier phraseology, and pass 
 ing his life in restless warfare with a hideous and blood-thirsty 
 foe, practices the so-called parlor art with infinitely more zeal 
 and success than the empty-headed throngs of fashionable society. 
 
 Boone, on this occasion, revealed his superior skill in this 
 regard. Though his heart was full of apprehension, his 
 demeanor indicated the most fearless indifference. He acted 
 
MEETING OF BOONE AND HIS BROTHER. 
 

 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 495 
 
 a part. He had a care for the tone of his voice, the poise of 
 his head, the length of his step, the expression of his eye. 
 He succeeded in what he was about. The Indians insensibly 
 gave way to the influence of his manners. Reading in his eye 
 no fear, and in his air no discontent, their vigilance insensibly 
 relaxed. They and their captive could not exchange one single 
 word. It was all pantomine, or manners. 
 
 On the seventh night after the capture, the Indians went 
 to sleep. For three days Boone had been unbound. At night 
 the' bonds had heretofore been replaced. But what need was 
 there to tie a man who was willing to stay with them anyhow. 
 
 Boone, and his companion escaped. They did not kill any 
 of their guards, nor did they attempt it. It was not a phys 
 ical achievement, but a mental one. They made their way back 
 to their cabin. The door was open. The rude furniture was 
 broken in pieces. There was no fire in the fire-place. The stock 
 of skins, the fruit of six months' toil, was gone. There was no 
 clue to their companions. The whole thing was a mystery, and 
 continued to be so. To the day of his death, Boone never 
 knew whether the other men had stolen the stock and made off 
 with it, or whether they had been killed by Indians, and the 
 cabin plundered by the murderers. 
 
 There are some rare joys in the life in the wilderness. Such 
 was the accidental meeting in the wilderness of Boone with his 
 brother, who, with a companion, had also come up to Kentucky. 
 There are many sorrows in a life in the wilderness. Such was 
 that which befell Boone when, a few days later, he and Stuart 
 were pursued by Indians, and Stuart was killed and scalped. 
 
 Only a week afterward, a still more distressing calamity hap 
 pened. The companion of Boone's brother happened to remain 
 away from the camp one night on a hunt. Finding, in a day or 
 two, that he did not return, the two brothers began a search. 
 In time they came upon the remains of the unfortunate man. 
 While asleep by his fire, he was surrounded and attacked by a 
 troop of famished wolves. The stock of his gun was shattered 
 
496 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 from the desperate use he had made of it in trying to beat back 
 the animals. At last, his strength failing, the throng of brutes 
 had borne him to the ground, and quickly stripped the flesh 
 from his bones, which the Boones found scattered about. But 
 for the gun, the remains would have been beyond identification. 
 
 Boone and his brother thus left alone soon found their ammu 
 nition supply running low. The brother returned to Carolina 
 to procure a new stock of powder and ball, leaving Boone in 
 complete solitude. " I was," he says, " left by myself, without 
 bread, salt, or sugar, without the company of my fellow-crea 
 tures, or even a horse or dog." On the 27th of July, 1770, his 
 brother returned. He brought with him two good horses, with 
 heavy packs of the much-needed supplies. Not till March, '71, 
 did they think of returning. During all this time they main 
 tained ceaseless vigilance, never making a permanent camp. 
 During his brother's absence, Boone had frequently slept in a 
 canebrake, without fire, and heard the yell of the Indians 
 around him. 
 
 At the date last named Daniel rejoined his family after an 
 absence of three years, during which he had tasted neither 
 bread nor salt. He came home fired with the fever for remov 
 ing to the new country. He sold out his property, loaded some 
 horses and milch cows with the necessary baggage, and, amid 
 prophecies of their destruction, started back to the wilderness 
 with his wife and children. 
 
 His clear statements of the advantages of the region induced 
 five other families and forty well armed men to accompany him. 
 The party felt great confidence in its strength. Pride goeth 
 before destruction. The party of immigrants were attacked by 
 Indians near Cumberland Mountain, and six of their number 
 killed, among whom, to the infinite sorrow of the great pioneer, 
 was Boone's eldest son. This reception so startled the party 
 that they beat a hasty retreat to the settlements on Clinch 
 River, forty miles to their rear, where they remained for sev 
 eral years. 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 497 
 
 In 1774 and 1775 Daniel Boone was engaged in the border 
 conflicts of the time. Only one incident of his part in these 
 struggles has been preserved. He was taken prisoner one 
 night by the Indians. He had just extinguished his camp-fire, 
 wrapped himself in his blanket, and lain down to sleep, being, 
 as was his custom, on a lone hunt, when he suddenly felt him 
 self seized in the darkness by a number of hands. 
 
 Resistance was useless. He was bound with strips of buf 
 falo hide, and carried to the Indian camp. The squaws imme 
 diately began to search their prisoner for valuables, and they 
 soon drew forth a flask of strong whisky. Boone looked on 
 with secret joy as he saw the bottle passed around from mouth 
 to mouth. He earnestly wished that the bottle was ten times 
 its size, and that every drop might stretch a brave dead-drunk 
 on the ground. He felt, to his sorrow, that there was not 
 enough liquor to intoxicate the company. 
 
 At that moment a gun was heard in the distance. The 
 braves jumped up, held a short talk with the squaws, pointing 
 frequently to Boone, and then seizing their guns, hurried away 
 in the darkness to see what the firing of the gun meant. The 
 squaws sat down cross-legged around the fire, and took frequent 
 drinks from the bottle until, one by one, they sprawled out on 
 the ground, and went- sound asleep. 
 
 It was the time for action. With the frontiersman's inge 
 nuity and pluck, Boone rolled over and over toward the fire, 
 held his feet and then his hands in the blaze, in spite of the 
 torture, until his bonds were burnt asunder. He sprang to his 
 feet, and, though severely burned, snatched up his rifle for 
 escape. He says, that at that moment he was on the point of 
 tomahawking the drunken squaws, but on second thought 
 reflected that to kill such defenseless wretches would be mur 
 der, and he desisted. Devoting his tomahawk to less bloody 
 work, he walked to an ash sapling, and chopped out three large 
 chips to mark the spot. He concealed himself in a canebrake, 
 and, in a day or two, made his way home. 
 
498 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Many years afterward a gentleman laid out and purchased 
 a tract of several thousand acres, and, by chance, took as one 
 of the corners of his survey "an ash marked by three distinct 
 notches of the tomahawk." Another series of years rolled by, 
 the ash had grown until the bark had completely covered the 
 marks. The land became involved in litigation. It was impos 
 sible to find the boundary tree. 
 
 Daniel Boone, who at that time was living in Missouri, was 
 sent for to identify the spot. He had almost forgotten the inci 
 dent we have related, but, after talking the matter over, remem 
 bered it. He returned to Kentucky, and, in company with sev 
 eral witnesses, went to the locality where he had been a pris 
 oner twenty years before. Waiting until the moon rose, so as 
 to reproduce, as far as possible, his surroundings on the night 
 of his capture, Boone started through the woods, eying each 
 tree attentively, and at last stopped before a large ash, averring 
 positively that it was the tree. 
 
 His companions examined the trunk closely. Not a mark 
 was to be seen in the bark. The men were skeptical, but Boone 
 took an ax and cut off a strip of the bark. Still nothing was 
 to be seen. He then scraped and cut with his butcher-knife, 
 until he did come to a place where the tree had been scarred 
 a long time before. The astonished men then went to work, 
 scraped the whole trunk carefully until three hacks, as plain as 
 three notches ever were, could be seen. On the strength of 
 this remarkable testimony the gentleman who had sent for 
 Boone won his lawsuit. 
 
 In the spring of 1775 Boone and some companions were 
 employed to guard a company of surveyors through Kentucky. 
 The party had two battles with the Indians, losing eleven of 
 their number. These attacks suggested the necessity of build 
 ing a small fort, lest the Indians should little by little destroy 
 the whole party. For two weeks the men worked with unre 
 mitting toil in the construction of a block-house on the Ken 
 tucky River, to which the name of Boonesborough was eventu- 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 499 
 
 ally given. Beside the block-house several cabins were built, 
 and the whole surrounded by a palisade. 
 
 When the work was done it looked so strong, so secure ; it 
 was such a snug retreat from all the dangers of the forest, that 
 Boone resolved to bring his family there. He returned to the 
 settlement on the Clinch River, and at once started with Mrs. 
 Boone and her daughters for the new fort in Kentucky. The 
 women of Boone's family were the first white women who ever 
 looked upon the Kentucky River. A few months prior to the 
 founding of Boonesborough James Harrod had erected a block 
 house at Harrodsburg. These two places soon became famous 
 as the only refuge from the savages south of the Ohio. 
 
 Boone's family had a lonely life. Yet the excitement in 
 which they lived, growing out of constant danger from wild 
 animals and Indians, took the place of companionship. Three 
 more families soon came to make their home in the fort. After 
 a few months' residence, the women of the place were accus 
 tomed to venture outside of the palisade for short distances. 
 
 One July day, Jemima Boone, with two girls named Gal 
 loway, growing weary of the cramped quarters of the palisade, 
 *took a canoe, and crossed the Kentucky River to a point where 
 the overhanging trees formed a dense and pleasant shade. The 
 cool retreat afforded an agreeable relief from the heat of a July 
 day. These pioneer girls had few pleasures, and the little 
 diversion was all the more enjoyed. 
 
 While floating lazily in the water, sometimes splashing with 
 their paddles, five Indians hid themselves near by. The girls 
 were unconscious of any impending danger, until they discov 
 ered that their boat, propelled by an unseen force, was moving 
 into a leafy nook out of sight of the fort. Looking for the 
 cause, they discovered in front of them the head of an Indian. 
 He was swimming with all his might with the tying rope of the 
 boat in his teeth. The girls screamed at the top of their voices. 
 They were heard at the fort. The men were scattered through 
 the forest, busy with their usual occupations. 
 
500 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Before any thing could be done to rescue the girls, the 
 Indians had seized them and started off through the forest at 
 the top of their speed. It was nearly two hours before word 
 of the horrible mishap could be sent to the men of the fort 
 and a party of sufficient strength made up to attempt a rescue. 
 Those hours seemed ages. The women at the fort wrung their 
 hands in agony, while the one man who happened to be there 
 hurried off to find help. When Boone at last got started with 
 eight companions, the Indians were several miles in advance. 
 
 Darkness came on, but the pursuers caught no glimpse of 
 the chase. All through the night the white men, with a skill 
 which we of the present day can neither explain nor understand, 
 followed the trail of the savages. Some time during the follow 
 ing night the ruffians were discovered. They were attacked 
 and driven off before they had time to kill their fair prisoners. 
 Two of the Indians were killed, while Boone's party was unin 
 jured. The poor girls were overjoyed at their rescue, and the 
 glad welcome which they received at the fort on their return 
 may well be imagined. 
 
 The wandering band of Indians who had captured the three 
 girls was a precursor of a host of warriors who were on their 
 way to destroy the white settlements. Two hundred braves 
 surrounded Boonesborough, and for two days attempted to cap 
 ture the place. They retreated only to renew the attempt a few 
 days later. Now and then some defender of the fort was killed, 
 so that the garrison was depleted to fifteen men. The Indians 
 fought with great boldness. Under cover of night, they stole 
 up to the gates of the fort, and attempted to hew them down 
 with their tomahawks. The arrival of a hundred men, under 
 Colonel Bowman, coming to the relief of Boonesborough, Har- 
 rodsburg, and Logan's Fort, suddenly put an end to the siege. 
 
 The wants of the little community could not be supplied 
 without some exposure and risk. The dangers of hunting were 
 great. Behind each tree or log might lurk a savage. A still 
 greater danger was the procurement of salt. In January, 1778, 
 

 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 503 
 
 Boone took thirty men to the Blue Lick, to make salt for all 
 the different stations in Kentucky. 
 
 It is related that one day he had wandered some distance 
 from his party, and was suddenly confronted by two stalwart 
 Indians. Boone threw himself behind a tree, and cautiously 
 exposed a small portion of his body, to attract their aim. An 
 Indian fired, and Boone dropped as if killed. To make the 
 second savage throw away his shot, Boone repeated the trick, 
 and while the two Indians were hurriedly attempting to reload, 
 rushed out and deliberately shot the foremost savage. He then 
 advanced upon the other Indian. 
 
 The white man relied on his knife, the Indian on his toma- 
 .hawk. Boone planted his foot on the corpse of the dead sav 
 age, and awaited the attack with resolute eye and compressed 
 lips. His antagonist advanced, and with the well-known, quick, 
 circular movement, was about to bury his hatchet in the white 
 man's brain. At the instant, when the Indian's arm was lifted, 
 Boone, quick as lightning, plunged his knife into his exposed 
 side. There was a spurt of hot blood which crimsoned the 
 hand upon the knife handle, a convulsive, despairing groan. 
 The hatchet descended, but slipped from the nerveless grasp 
 and stuck in the ground. The Indian threw his hands to his 
 side in vain attempt to stop the crimson tide, bestowed one look 
 of unutterable malignity and hopelessness upon the man who 
 still stood confronting him with the bloody hand and knife yet 
 held aloft, then fell to rise no more. 
 
 On the 7th of February Boone, while out hunting, discov 
 ered a war party of a hundred Indians approaching him. He 
 took to flight, but being then a man beyond the prime of life, 
 and somewhat stiff from exposure, he was unable to contend 
 with the swift braves who pursued him. He was captured and 
 taken back to the lick, where he found his whole party of 
 twenty-seven men prisoners like himself. 
 
 At this point we note a significant fact. The Indians 
 neither tortured their prisoners nor offered to put them to death. 
 
504 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The conflict with the white man was a recent thing with the 
 tribes so far west. Boone and his companions were taken to 
 the Indian town of Chillicothe. As usual, Boone's mild and 
 patient character made its impression upon the savages. While 
 his courage excited the admiration of the fiercest brave, his 
 gentleness touched the heart of the humblest squaw. His 
 knowledge of human nature also helped him. Sometimes he 
 was invited to engage in shooting matches with the Indians. 
 On such occasions he usually took care to plant his bullets a 
 little wider from the mark than the Indians, lest he should excite 
 their animosity by beating them. 
 
 In the spring Boone was taken to Detroit. Here Governor 
 Hamilton himself offered 100 for his ransom, but so strong 
 was the affection of the Indians for their prisoner that they 
 refused to consider it. Several English gentlemen, touched 
 with sympathy for the misfortunes of the old pioneer, made 
 pressing offers of money and other articles ; but old Boone, 
 with sturdy independence, refused to receive benefits which he 
 could never return. In this incident we discover the character 
 of Boone's reputation. It was in the midst of the Revolution 
 ary War. Yet the Englishmen recognized Boone as a non- 
 combatant. The Indians themselves knew that he was not an 
 Indian fighter. He was simply and truly a pioneer. 
 
 Boone was taken back to Chillicothe, only to be terrified by 
 the preparation of a great war-party for an attack on Boones- 
 borough. His anxiety on account of his wife and children 
 became intolerable. He resolved, at every risk, to attempt an 
 escape so as to warn them of the impending danger. Early 
 one morning he started from Chillicothe, directing his course 
 toward Boonesborough. He traversed the one hundred and 
 sixty miles in four days, during which time he ate but one meal 
 and slept none. 
 
 Just at sunset he came in sight of the fort. The gates 
 were open. Some women were leisurely milking the cows on a 
 pleasant stretch of turf some distance from them. A little 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 505 
 
 further off a man was chopping wood. The whole place looked to 
 the returned captive like a bit of Acadia. Every thing wore an air 
 of peace and quiet, as if danger were the farthest thing from the 
 minds of the little company of pioneers. Boone, hoarse, hag 
 gard, disfigured by Indian paint and costume, his eyes glaring 
 wildly from their sunken sockets, shouted to the people to come 
 into the fort. At the apparition waving its arms in the twi 
 light, the people made haste to follow its advice, fleeing wildly 
 to the gates as if it were a wild man. 
 
 A moment later old Boone was recognized. A shout of 
 welcome went up. Receiving the greetings of his friends, he 
 told them in a few short words of their danger, ordered every 
 person outside the gates to be called in, and preparation to be 
 made for an Indian attack. This done, he looked anxiously 
 around for his family. A hard disappointment awaited him. 
 Wife and daughters, giving him up for dead, had returned to 
 North Carolina, taking all his property with them. Swallowing 
 his chagrin, Boone, after a rest, went to work with a will to repair 
 and strengthen the fort. Traces of lurking Indians could be 
 seen in the surrounding woods, spies, no doubt, upon the fort. 
 Their reports must have been bad, as the Indian invasion was 
 not forthcoming. 
 
 In the previous September, Simon Kenton had abandoned 
 his cabin at Washington, Kentucky, and seeing a white man 
 who told him that a settlement had already been made in the 
 interior at a place called Boonesborough, had repaired to this 
 place. He was overjoyed to find a substantial fort, and was 
 greeted by Boone himself. 
 
 Kenton was a valuable accession to the place. It was on 
 the failure of the Indian invasion to materialize that Boone 
 resolved on his expedition against the Indian village at Paint 
 Creek. We have elsewhere mentioned the fact of Boone's 
 retreat, on finding that his advance was discovered, and have 
 related the adventures of Kenton, who resolved to go on with 
 his friend Montgomery. 
 
506 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Boone's reason for retreat was the conviction that the whole 
 Indian force were now on their way to Boonesborough, and that 
 the condition of the fort and of his own party was extremely 
 critical. He hurried back, and fell in with the trail of a great 
 Indian war-party headed directly towards Boonesborough. Mak 
 ing a wide detour to avoid the savages, and traveling night and 
 day, he and his men reached the fort on the evening of the 
 seventh day, in advance of the Indians. 
 
 On the following morning, five hundred warriors appeared 
 before the fort. They were commanded by British officers. 
 The ensuing siege was, in fact, an obscure chapter in the Revo 
 lutionary War. A demand for surrender was made, accompanied 
 by the significant and cruel hint that, if hostilities ensued, the 
 handful of British officers would hardly be able to restrain the 
 Indians from massacring the members of the garrison should 
 they be taken prisoners. Boone asked two days to consider. 
 The request, strange to say, was granted. 
 
 The intervening time was busily employed in strengthening 
 the fort. Every man resolved to die in its defense rather than 
 surrender. When Boone informed the British commander of his 
 decision, the latter said that he meant no harm to the settlers, 
 and that if nine of the p al men would come out of the 
 
 fort and treat with him, he |d his Indians would at once go 
 away. For some unexplained reason, Boone assented to this 
 proposal, and, with eight picked men, emerged from the fort, 
 and was soon surrounded by throngs of hideous braves. Some 
 sort of "a treaty" was pretended to be patched up. 
 
 Boone and his friends prepared to return, when the British 
 commander said that it was an invariable custom of the Indians 
 at the close of a treaty for two warriors to take hold of either 
 hand of each white man. The Indians at once proceeded to act 
 on the hint. The white men, who were not surprised by the 
 movement, flung off their assailants, and started for the fort. 
 The men at the latter place, who were looking on with deep 
 anxiety, instantly fired upon the Indians, under cover of which 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 507 
 
 the nine men reached the fort and barred the gates. Only one 
 of their number had been wounded in this scrimmage. 
 
 A siege of nine days followed. Every attack by the Indians 
 resulted in the Igss of many of their braves, while the whites 
 suffered but little. The fort stood sixty yards from the river 
 bank. The enemy, foiled in their other efforts, commenced to 
 dig a mine from the river bank into the fort. One morning 
 Boone's quick eye detected the discoloration of the river from 
 the fresh earth thrown into it, and instantly divined the state 
 of affairs. A deep trench was cut by the garrison under the 
 palisade and then in front of the fort so as to intersect the 
 approaching mine. This stratagem forced the Indians to aban 
 don their attempt. At last, foiled in every effort, the savages 
 withdrew. This was the last siege Boonesborough ever sus 
 tained. It occurred in the summer of 1778. 
 
 In the fall of this year, Boone, who was piqued at the facil 
 ity with which his family had given him up for lost, returned 
 to North Carolina. He was detained here by family troubles 
 until 1780, when he again returned to Boonesborough with his 
 wife and daughters. 
 
 Shortly after his return, Boone and his brother went to Blue 
 Licks, where he had been taken captive, and were surprised by 
 Indians. The brother was killed and scalped. Boone fled, 
 urged on by a relentless pursuit. The Indians had with them 
 a remarkable dog, which tracked Boone incessantly, and pre 
 vented his concealing himself. The situation was critical. Every 
 twist and turn he made was detected by his pursuers, who 
 were guided by the dog. At last Boone calmly paused, and 
 waited till the animal should come in sight. It was a hazard 
 ous thing to stop with the Indians so near. In a moment the 
 dog came bounding toward him, with a great red tongue lolling 
 from his mouth, and uttering loud and mournful bays. At that 
 moment Boone fired, and killed the brute. Then, under cover 
 of the forest and approaching night, he made his escape. 
 
 Somewhere about this time in Boone's career, he, with a few 
 
 28 
 
 \ 
 
508 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 companions, was surprised in the woods by a large party of 
 Indians. The whites were eating their breakfast, and the sav 
 ages sat down near by without hostile demonstrations, and pre 
 tended to prepare their own meal, acting as if they were com 
 pletely ignorant of the presence of Boone. The latter cautioned 
 his men in an undertone to be prepared for a fight at any 
 moment. Boone then walked toward the Indian chief unarmed, 
 and intently gnawing the meat from a bone. The savage, who 
 was also eating, licked his greasy fingers, and rose to greet 
 Boone. The latter asked to see a knife, with which the Indian 
 was cutting his meat. Boone took the long knife, and with a 
 dexterous juggle, aifected to swallow it, concealing it at the 
 same time in his sleeve. 
 
 The Indians looked on with wide-eyed astonishment, while 
 Boone struck his stomach, pronouncing the knife very good. In 
 a few moments he went through another contortion, and appar 
 ently vomited forth the knife, which he wiped on his sleeve and 
 returned to the Indian. The latter took it cautiously between 
 his thumb and forefinger, and flung it into the bushes, as if the 
 thing were contaminating. The whole party of savages then 
 instantly broke and ran, regarding Boone, no doubt, as the 
 devil himself. 
 
 Kentucky was filling up rapidly with settlers. Numerous 
 other stations besides Boonesborough and Harrodsburg afforded 
 refuge from savages. For a year or two the country was freB 
 from Indian hostilities. The settlers, busy with their farms, 
 began to hope that the wars with the savages were over. In 
 1782, however, the tempest of destruction broke forth again. 
 Numerous isolated outrages were committed by Indians. 
 
 In the spring, twenty-five savages sneaked up to Estill's 
 station, entered a cabin somewhat apart from the rest, and after 
 outraging a woman and her two daughters, brutally murdered 
 them. A few moments later some women of the settlement dis 
 covered the tragedy which had been enacted. The men of the 
 place were nearly all absent, searching for this very band of 
 
THE DA Y>S OF DANIEL BOONE. 509 
 
 Indians. Word was with difficulty conveyed to Captain Estill, 
 who commanded the squad of pioneers. On receiving the infor 
 mation, instant pursuit was resolved on. Five men, anxious 
 about their families, returned to the station. Ten more were 
 soon left behind on account of their jaded horses. 
 
 The party, reduced to twenty-five men, pushed on, and over 
 took the Indians, whose number was exactly the same. The 
 battle, which is memorable in the annals of pioneer warfare, took 
 place at a small stream, on the opposite banks of which the com 
 batants were posted. For an hour the loss on both sides was 
 equal. The Indians fought with the pertinacity and coolness of 
 the whites themselves. It seemed, as the battle continued, that 
 nothing remained except to fight until all the men on each side 
 were killed. Estill resolved on a stratagem. Six men were 
 ordered to attempt a flank movement. They were, however, 
 utterly destroyed in the effort. The Indians now pressed their 
 foes hard. Estill, himself, became engaged in a terrible hand- 
 to-hand struggle with the Wyandot chief. Each man made furi 
 ous exertions to overpower his adversary. The friends of each 
 dared not fire for fear of wounding the wrong man. 
 
 At last, a mishap of the most serious character occurred. 
 Estill had in the year before broken his arm. In this combat, 
 the bones, imperfectly knitted, came apart. As the arm gave 
 way, Estill gave a cry of despair, and the next instant the 
 Indian sunk a knife into his heart. The triumph of the sav 
 age was short. Just as he shook the gory scalp in air, a rifle 
 ball laid him in the lowly dust beside his fallen foe. The whites 
 fled, bearing wild reports of the numbers of the Indians to the 
 agitated settlements. Panic and defeat seemed about to over 
 whelm the pioneers. Band after band met the fate of Estill's 
 company. 
 
 In August came the famous attack of Simon Girty, on Bry 
 ant's station, on the southern bank of the Elkhorn, between 
 Maysville and Lexington, Kentucky. The garrison of the place 
 was about to march to the relief of Hoy's station. Just as the 
 
510 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 gates were thrown open, a volley of rifle-balls rattled against 
 the sides of the fort. No weakening of the garrison was to be 
 thought of; instead, preparations for a siege had to be made 
 at once. Their greatest peril in case of a siege arose from a 
 scarcity of water. The spring on which they depended was 
 some distance away from the fort. In a neighboring wood, 
 signs of an ambush could be detected. 
 
 A council was held in the fort, and it was suggested that 
 all the women get buckets, and go down to the spring after 
 water, as if no ambush was suspected. The Indians, believ 
 ing themselves undiscovered, would hardly attack a party of 
 squaws, when by waiting longer, some of the fighting part of 
 the garrison might be ambuscaded at the spring. This plan 
 was adopted. Only one thing was wanting. This was the 
 women's consent. Sharp words were indulged in. They did 
 not see why the men could not go after the water. At last, 
 some of the stronger and more sensible women took a practical 
 view of the situation, and seizing their buckets, started boldly 
 to the spring. The others followed with fear and trembling. 
 On they went, defenseless and frightened, to within a short 
 distance of the deadly ambush, where five hundred Indians 
 lay concealed. 
 
 The buckets were filled with assumed deliberation, and the 
 trembling procession of females started back to the fort. As 
 they crossed the wide, open space their steps quickened, until 
 every woman was in a dead run for the gates. Though pale 
 with fear, they reached the fort without having been molested. 
 As had been surmised, the Indians withheld their attack in the 
 belief that some of the men of the fort could be caught at the 
 spring before long. 
 
 Meanwhile an Indian decoy party had appeared on the oppo 
 site side of the fort. Thirteen men went out and attacked them, 
 a maneuver which at once brought the whole Indian force upon 
 the opposite side of the fort, which they believed to be unpro 
 tected. Heavy volleys of rifle-shots poured into them at point- 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 511 
 
 blank range, destroyed their delusion, and the Indians fled to 
 the woods. A regular battle was now begun. 
 
 At two o'clock a diversion occurred. Two messengers had 
 carried the news of the attack to Lexington, near which a com 
 pany, on its way to Hoy's station, was met, and its course changed 
 to Bryant's station. At two o'clock in the afternoon this re- 
 enforcement reached the vicinity of the fort. The Indians, dis 
 covering their approach, attempted to cut them off. The horse 
 men spurred on through clouds of dust, and made their way into 
 the fort. Those on foot were not so fortunate. Finding them 
 selves about to be destroyed, they took to a corn-field and 
 attempted to escape. Some succeeded, but several were cut 
 down in their flight. In the evening Girty called on the place 
 to surrender. A man named Reynolds replied from the fort 
 with taunts and insults, which put Girty in a terrible rage. 
 
 In the morning the men looked out through the palisades 
 toward the spot where the Indians had encamped the night 
 before, and were astonished to find the place entirely deserted. 
 The enemy was in full retreat. Re-enforcements also began to 
 pour into the fort, among them a strong company under Daniel 
 Boone, from Boonesborough. Each little party which arrived 
 had a leader, and among the multitude of counselors arose a 
 discussion, which ended in a unanimous resolve not to wait for 
 General Logan, who with a strong force was marching to Bry 
 ant's, but to commence pursuit of the Indians at once. 
 
 On the afternoon of the 18th of August, 1782, began the 
 fatal march. The trail of the Indians was very plain. Here 
 and there the enemy had chopped bits out of the trees. These 
 signs made Boone and a few others cautious, as they indicated 
 no anxiety to conceal retreat, but rather the reverse. At the 
 Lower Blue Licks the whites, on the following day, came in 
 sight of the enemy. The pursuers were gathered on the 
 southern bank of the Licking River. On the opposite side a 
 small group of savages could be seen standing on the top of a 
 ridge. They coolly stared at the whites, and then disappeared. 
 
512 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 A hurried consulation was held as to what should be done. 
 The men were now a long way from any point of support. 
 The country was wild and lonely, well adapted for ambuscades. 
 The enemy was largely superior in strength to the whites. 
 Boone advised a return or, at least, a halt, until Logan's force 
 could come up with them. The discussion continued, when sud 
 denly Hugh McGary, whose fierce and impetuous temper chafed 
 at delay or deliberation when Indians were so near, gave a loud 
 yell for "all who are not cowards" to follow him. At the same 
 instant he spurred his horse into the stream. 
 
 The example was contagious. Calm deliberation was at an 
 end, and the whole company crowded pell-mell after him. 
 Through the river and up the opposite ridge they rushed in 
 confused tumult. They hurried along the trail about a mile, 
 burning with the reckless zeal which the rash McGary had 
 inspired. Suddenly a party of Indians confronted them and 
 fired. The place was inauspicious for the whites. They were 
 on open ground, while the foe occupied a ravine, filled with a 
 dense growth of trees and bushes. This ravine flanked the 
 ridge from which the whites fought. 
 
 A severe battle at once began. The lagging settlers hurried 
 to the front to the support of their companions. As soon as 
 the Indians saw the whites well bunched together, a strong 
 party of several hundred warriors started to throw themselves 
 in their rear and cut off retreat. The movement was easy and 
 on the point of success. The whites, seeing their peril, broke 
 and ran back toward the river. The scene was awful. The 
 battle of Blue Licks was really a slaughter. The Indians fell 
 upon the fugitives, outnumbering them ten to one, and toma 
 hawking them not singly, but by dozens. 
 
 At the moment of the retreat, Boone, who was in the front 
 of the fight, and had already seen his son and many neighbors 
 killed, found himself and a few friends surrounded by savages, 
 and retreat hopelessly cut off. Thoroughly acquainted with the 
 ground, he spurred forward boldly into the ravine which the 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 513 
 
 Indians had occupied, finding it, as he expected, almost deserted. 
 By a roundabout course he reached the Licking, crossed it at a 
 remote point, and reached the settlements in safety. 
 
 At the ford the Indians plunged into the water, falling upon 
 and scalping their unhappy victims, and then letting the corpses 
 float away, leaving behind a crimson trail in the blue water. 
 There was no selfishness among the whites. Those who were 
 able boldly helped their companions. Young Reynolds, who 
 had given Girty the insult from the walls of the fort, was 
 mounted on a fine horse. Half-way to the ford he overtook 
 Captain Patterson, a man infirm from former wounds, and in 
 his flight on foot in good way to be killed. With kingly gen 
 erosity Reynolds sprang to the ground, placed his protesting 
 friend in the saddle, and continued his own flight on foot. He 
 saved his friend, but was taken prisoner. 
 
 He was at first guarded by three Indians, but the excite 
 ment of the pursuit was so fascinating that two of the savages 
 turned their prisoner over to the third one, and eagerly ram on 
 to take part in the fray. Reynolds marched quietly on, under 
 the eye of his captor, who carried a tomahawk and loaded rifle. 
 But when the Indian stooped down for a moment to tie his 
 moccasin, Reynolds leaped on him, stunning him with terrific 
 blows from his fists, and instantly disappeared in a thicket, 
 making his way home in safety. 
 
 The survivors of the battle of Blue Licks spread terror 
 among the sorrowing settlements. Sixty of the picked men of 
 Kentucky had been slain, and a number taken captives. It was 
 a time when every man was worth much to the new commu 
 nity. On the second day after the slaughter General Logan, with 
 four hundred and fifty men, visited the fatal spot, and interred 
 the swollen and disfigured bodies of the dead. Blue Licks was 
 the most unlucky spot Boone ever knew. Here he had been 
 taken captive, and kept so for many months. Here, too, his 
 brother had been killed before his eyes, while he himself barely 
 escaped with his life. And here, at last, his son Israel, together 
 
514 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 with sixty of his neighbors and friends, had fallen in the battle 
 we have just described. He subsequently took part in an 
 expedition against the Indian towns of Ohio, but without results. 
 
 Here Boone's adventures close. We have no record that he 
 ever figured in any subsequent fight with the Indians. He 
 remained for some years a quiet farmer. As the years rolled 
 on and his old friends, one by one, passed away, he became 
 lonely, and, to some extent, unhappy. The country in which 
 he had been a pioneer grew and developed into a splendid State 
 of fertile farms and thrifty towns. Political questions succeeded 
 the old agitations of the border wars. 
 
 But in all this Boone took no part. He wandered around 
 in the present, but not of it. In 1792 he dictated a brief and 
 rather dry sketch of his life to some young man who could 
 write. The young scribe palmed off some cheap rhetoric on 
 the old man, who, no doubt, regarded it as thrilling eloquence. 
 He was never so happy as when some one would take the book, 
 in which his name appeared "in print," and read it to him. He 
 never wearied of it. Innumerable times the dull book was read 
 over to him, and he never failed. to listen with intense interest, 
 rubbing his hands and exclaiming, "All that 's true every word 
 of it not a lie in it !" He never spoke of himself unless ques 
 tioned, but this published account of his life was the Delilah of 
 his imagination. 
 
 The last years of Boone were strikingly like those of Simon 
 Kenton, George Rogers Clark, and many others of the earliest 
 settlers. The brave and heroic race of pioneers seemed to have 
 no capacity for adapting themselves to the new and changed 
 conditions of life which surrounded them. Their rigid and 
 unyielding disposition, which refused to yield to circumstances, 
 but viewed the advancing tide of civilization with sullen and 
 morose regrets, has in it something ^f the very nature of the 
 red men, in fighting whom they passed their lives. 
 
 Boone became embarrassed and involved in lawsuits, lost all 
 his property, and, at last, heartsore and unhappy, took his way 
 
THE DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE. 515 
 
 to Missouri. Here, in the wilderness, he once more found com 
 parative peace. He hunted and trapped, selling his furs at St. 
 Louis, till he had laid up a considerable sum. 
 
 One day he reappeared at Boonesborough. He spent no 
 time in reminiscence or pleasure, but with an expression on his 
 face which indicated that he had some important task to per 
 form, which would never let him rest until it was accomplished, 
 sought out all his creditors, took their word for the amount 
 which was owing to them, and paid them all off in full. This 
 done, the honest old man shouldered his gun, and trudged 
 back to Missouri. His face wore a brighter look than for some 
 time. He took long hunting and trapping expeditions to the 
 north-west, to the sources of the Missouri River. On one occa 
 sion he was on the Osage River, and was taken dangerously ill. 
 His only companion was a negro lad. One pleasant day he 
 managed to crawl out of his cabin, and marked out the spot 
 where he wished the boy to bury him. He did not die, how 
 ever, but lived to meet with further reverses. 
 
 The title which he had acquired through the Spanish gov 
 ernment to certain Missouri lands was declared invalid, and at 
 the age of seventy-six the venerable pioneer again found him 
 self without one acre in all the boundless domain which he had 
 explored. He, however, maintained his sweetness of temper, 
 and in 1812, petitioned the Legislature of Kentucky to use its 
 influence with Congress for the confirmation of his Spanish title 
 to ten thousand acres of land. The request was granted, but 
 Congress hesitated, and, after long delay, confirmed in him the 
 title to one thousand acres of land, unmarketable at two cents 
 an acre. Before this tardy and insufficient act of justice was 
 done, his faithful wife, who had followed him through so many 
 years of adventure, passed away. From that time he lived 
 with his son, passing his days in meditative rambles through 
 the forests. At the advanced age of eighty- two years he went 
 on a hunting expedition of more than two hundred miles. 
 
 In 1819 a distinguished artist visited Boone at his dwelling 
 
516 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES, 
 
 near the Missouri, for the purpose of taking his portrait, and 
 found him in a " small, rude cabin, indisposed, and reclining on 
 his bed. A slice from the loin of a buck, twisted about the 
 ramrod of his rifle, within reach of him as he lay, was roasting 
 before the fire. Several other cabins, arranged in the form of 
 a parallelogram, were occupied by the descendants of the 
 pioneer. Here he lived in the midst of his posterity. His 
 withered energies and locks of snow indicated that the sources 
 of existence were nearly exhausted." 
 
 He died September 26, 1820, at the home of his son-in-law, 
 in Flanders, Galloway County, Missouri, being then eighty-seven 
 years old. 
 
 Daniel Boone is the most honored of all the pioneers of the 
 Ohio valle*y. This is as it should be. The gentleness and 
 humanity which pervaded his life stand out in marked contrast 
 with the fierceness and brutality which characterized so many 
 of the borderers. He was a true pioneer. 
 
 Governor Morehead, in a memorial address on the life and 
 services of Daniel Boone, has said : " His life is a forcible 
 example of the powerful influence a single absorbing passion 
 exerted over the destiny of an individual. Possessing no other 
 acquirements than a very common education, he was enabled, 
 nevertheless, to maintain through a long and useful career, a 
 conspicuous rank among the most distinguished of his contempo 
 raries. He united, in an eminent degree, the qualities of 
 shrewdness, caution, courage, and uncommon muscular strength. 
 He was seldom taken by surprise, he never shrank from danger, 
 nor cowered beneath the pressure of exposure and fatigue. His 
 manners were simple and unobtrusive exempt from the rude 
 ness characteristic of the backwoodsman. In his person there 
 was nothing remarkably striking. He was five feet ten inches 
 in height, and of robust and powerful proportions. His counte 
 nance was mild and contemplative. His ordinary habits were 
 those of a hunter. He died as he lived, in a cabin, and perhaps 
 his trusty rifle was the most valuable of all his chattels." 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 517 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 
 
 T is not for us to go back to the dim obscurity 
 of the middle ages, or even to the dreadful 
 epoch of religious wars and religious persecu 
 tions following them, to trace the unnappy his 
 tory of the peaceful sect which we know as the 
 Moravians. We look back no further than to 
 see a band of unfortunate exiles offered and 
 accepting a resting-place on the ample estate 
 of a young German nobleman, Count Zinzendorf. Here the 
 weary outcasts, burning with the purest spiritual devotion, built 
 a town. When their membership reached six hundred, the 
 little society became transfigured with a sublime missionary 
 zeal. They longed to carry the Gospel of Peace to the darkest 
 spots of earth, and by simple appeals and the example of pure 
 and blameless lives to win men from wars and wickedness to 
 peace and virtue. So. amid prayerful farewells, many of the 
 brethren and sisters, the very flower of the congregation, set 
 out from the little German village on diverse paths. Some of 
 the pious missionaries went to the West Indies, some to Green 
 land, some went to the distant Cape of Good Hope, where, under 
 southern skies, they toiled among the savage Hottentots ; others 
 took their way to the regions of everlasting snow and ice, 
 where their converts were the fur-clad and blubber-eating 
 Esquimaux. Of the fortunes of these heroic missionaries it is 
 for others to tell the history. 
 
518 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 It was natural that the simple-minded Moravians should 
 turn their prayerful hearts to the fierce Indians of America. 
 The stories of their enormous stature, their hideous cannibal 
 ism, their appalling blood-thirstiness and cruelties, which floated 
 in distorted fragments to the placid Moravian community, instead 
 of deterring them only impressed more deeply on their minds the 
 midnight darkness, the infinite needs of the poor savages. So 
 they sought the New World pale-faced scholars and slender 
 nuns, weak in every thing but their sublime faith and utter 
 forgetfulness of self. A mere outline of the tragic history of 
 the Moravian missions in America but poorly represents the 
 toils, the hardships, the sufferings, the sickness, the deaths, 
 which from the first was the lot of the frail missionaries. 
 
 Their first attempts were made in Georgia, in 1732. After 
 seven years of labor, in which time they had managed to build 
 a tolerably comfortable settlement, a war broke out between 
 England and Spain. The fierce Cherokees became involved in 
 it. The poor missionaries had to abandon the product of those 
 seven years of weary toil, and fly for their lives. Their next 
 location was in Pennsylvania, where, in the process of time, 
 they founded several settlements to which they gave such 
 gentle names as Nazareth, Bethlehem, Nain, Gnadenhutten 
 (Tents of Mercy), and Friedenshutten (Tents of Peace). 
 
 At the same time that the tired wanderers commenced anew 
 their labors in Pennsylvania some of their number pushed on 
 into New York and Connecticut. A small settlement was 
 founded in each State, on the lands of the white people. Little 
 by little, the pious missionaries won a handful of converts from 
 the Indians around them, perhaps fifty or sixty in each place. 
 These Christian Indians came and settled with the missiona 
 ries, leading settled and upright lives. They worked in the 
 field, assembled for morning and evening worship, and, catch 
 ing the fire from the burning hearts of the Moravians, labored 
 to win others of their race from habits of war, indolence, and 
 drunkenness. 
 
 
PERSECUTIONS OF THE MORAVIANS. 
 
 519 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORA VIAN MASSACRE. 521 
 
 But if the Moravians were saints, their white neighbors were 
 devils. These latter spared no pains to tempt the converts with 
 rum, and to destroy the influence of the missionaries with lies. 
 They drove the Moravians from their fields with open violence. 
 This was not all. They circulated reports through the prov 
 inces that the pale-faced preachers were French spies, and were 
 laboring to detach the Iroquois from the English. The gentle 
 missionaries were dragged before justices of the peace, petty 
 tyrants, whose criminal jurisdiction has always been, and yet 
 remains, an intolerable and outrageous shame. They were 
 dragged about from place to place for examination, thrown into 
 prison, and subjected to cruel insults. The ministry of other 
 Churches joined the hue and cry against the martyrs, and 
 denounced them as papists. These men, whose sect had un 
 dergone every species of infernal persecution and torture from 
 the Catholic Church, upon whom the fagot, sword, and thumb 
 screw had been used without mercy, were publicly accused of 
 being papists ! The devil must have thrust his tongue into his 
 cheek and almost exploded with infernal laughter at the mon 
 strous joke. Still worse, men declared that the Brethren had 
 three thousand stand of arms, with which they intended to arm 
 the Iroquois in the interest of France. 
 
 Such an uproar was raised that the governor of New York, 
 on December 15, 1744, sent a sheriff and three justices of the 
 peace to notify the Brethren that they were prohibited from 
 holding any further meetings, and further ordering them to 
 appear before the governor. Nothing was developed, except 
 that the missionaries were conscientiously opposed to taking 
 oaths. The assembly at once passed a law prohibiting any 
 person from living in the province who refused to take an oath. 
 Two of the leading missionaries, men of eminent piety, on their 
 way from Bethlehem to the Iroquois confederacy, were arrested, 
 taken to New York, thrown into a loathsome prison cell, and 
 kept there seven weeks. Let us remember that these things 
 were done in our own country. Let us learn from the bitter 
 
522 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 past. Let us resolve, earnestly and honestly to rebuke super 
 stition and religious intolerance wherever we find it, and at 
 every cost to keep our courts free from partisan and political 
 prejudice. 
 
 The sequel is evident. The New York and Connecticut mis 
 sions were given up. Amid a hooting mob, the ministers of 
 peace and their poor ignorant converts, who were no doubt con 
 fused and troubled at the dark and devious ways of the white 
 man, humbly marched away to join their brethren in Pennsyl 
 vania. In a material way the Pennsylvania settlements had 
 much greater prosperity. The towns were laid out regularly, 
 with smooth, broad streets. At the time of the Revolution the 
 Brethren at Bethlehem owned nearly a hundred buildings, all of 
 stone, and of picturesque, though simple, architecture. Among 
 these was a large church, from whose belfry a sweet chime of 
 bells sounded a musical call to morning and evening worship. 
 There was also the " Home for Single Brothers," and at a little 
 distance, surrounded by trees, the pretty " Home for Single 
 Sisters," as well as a third companion building, the " Home for 
 Widowed Sisters." Here in their sober garments, with white 
 aprons and white linen head-dress, the neat Moravian nuns plied 
 their busy fingers. The buzz of the spinning-wheel and the 
 rattle of the old-fashioned loom never ceased. The spacious 
 buildings and tidy rooms were neatly though plainly furnished, 
 and not a speck of dirt was allowed on the premises. Each 
 inmate had a separate bed of scrupulous whiteness. 
 
 Around the picturesque village many a hundred acre field 
 of grain flashed in the sunlight. The whole community was 
 ideal, such as one reads about in fiction. During the hour's 
 rest at noontide, the laborers would snatch up musical instru 
 ments, and fill the air with. quaint, rich melodies. These plain 
 people were skilled musicians. The place also contained the 
 finest artisans in America. In all Europe could not be obtained 
 such rarely ornamented pistols, such accurate watches, and such 
 ingenious embroidery. A fine water works was a part of the 
 
ONADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 523 
 
 product of the skill and industry of the Brethren. European 
 travelers went wild over the rare and curious souvenirs to be 
 bought at Bethlehem. 
 
 Perhaps nothing, however, added so much to the reputation 
 of the place as its inn and hostelry. In all America there was 
 not another such haven of rest for the tired traveler. The build 
 ing was a large and handsome stone structure, with commodious 
 sleeping rooms, and beds for which no praise was too high. The 
 table was all that could be desired. It abounded in the rarest 
 mountain trout, the sweetest venison and partridges, together 
 with famous beef and mutton, and the fattest poultry. Of the 
 vegetables and fruits there was no end, and at no other table 
 in America was to be found such rarely flavored wines, and such 
 famous brands of other liquors. It is evident that the simple 
 and abstemious Brethren knew well how to minister to their 
 more worldly guests. 
 
 To this pleasant retreat the president of Congress, in per 
 son, brought the young Marquis de La Fayette when he was 
 wounded. Here he lay for two months, under the care of the 
 gentle sisters. As he afterwards said, they were the two hap 
 piest months of his life. Here, also, came another stranger, 
 Count Pulaski, asking in broken English for his friend La Fay 
 ette. For Pulaski, it was, that the Moravian nuns embroidered 
 an elegant silk banner. 
 
 In addition to this material prosperity, the gentle strangers 
 made many converts from the Indians. These would settle 
 near them in peaceful communities, strangely contrasted with 
 the wild villages in which they had been born and reared. 
 They were faithful even unto death. 
 
 But the pleasant picture of Bethlehem and its surroundings 
 is by no means the only thing to be described. Troubles there 
 were for the Moravians, on which we have twice already 
 touched. We have seen the massacre at the first Gnadenhut- 
 ten, on Mahony Creek, in November, 1755. We have also seen 
 how, during the ferocities of the border warfare of 1763, the 
 
524 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Christian Indians were removed for safety to Philadelphia. 
 These Indians were the poor, surprised converts, gathered in 
 quiet little settlements, near Bethlehem. Sheep gathered near 
 their shepherds. We have given a brief sketch of their suffer 
 ings, of the cruel mob which mocked their sorrows, and insulted 
 their weakness; of the terrible journey toward New York; of 
 the peremptory refusal to admit them to the province, and the 
 weary return to Philadelphia. Even this was not the end of 
 their misfortunes. The small-pox broke out among them in the 
 barracks, and carried off large numbers. In the midst of these 
 afflictions, their missionaries stayed with them, offering the com 
 fort and solace which is from above. The poor outcasts 
 remained faithful to the end. Suffering wrung from them only 
 prayers. The plague itself only inspired the unhappy converts 
 to new praises for God's providence. For more than a year they 
 were cooped in the unhealthy Philadelphia barracks. Much of 
 the time the guards with difficulty protected them from the 
 ruffians of the city. Far more dangerous would it have been 
 for them in their homes. The Moravians themselves were 
 regarded by the borderers as French sympathizers, if not spies. 
 Several of the settlements where the Indians had lived were 
 laid in ashes by furious rangers, from whom the inhabitants 
 themselves had barely escaped. Even the mills and expensive 
 water-works at Bethlehem w r ere set on fire by incendiaries. 
 
 At last the glad word came that the war was over. The 
 doors of the barracks were thrown open. The unhappy Chris 
 tians were told to go where they pleased. But where to go 
 was a question. That a return to their former settlements, 
 where they would be exposed to the ruffians of the border, 
 was highly dangerous, and even foolish, was evident. The 
 wanderers journeyed to Bethlehem, guided and guarded by the 
 ever faithful missionaries. From here it was decided that they 
 should go to Wyoming. The journey thither was so difficult 
 that many of the party who had survived all the sufferings of 
 the Philadelphia barracks died by the way. At last they 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 525 
 
 reached the pleasant shores of the Susquehanna. Here they 
 industriously set to work to clear and fence the ground for 
 planting. For provision, the men killed such game as they 
 could find, while the women and children gathered wild pota 
 toes and roots, to eke out the scanty meals. Here, in spite of 
 the hostility of the Six Nations, the antagonism of Indian 
 prophets and conjurors, and the meanness of the white settlers, 
 who tempted the converts with rum, the Christian Indians pros 
 pered. In the course of seven years, their constant revivals 
 greatly recruited their ranks, and tireless industry had built a 
 pleasant village. There were forty well-built houses of squared 
 logs and shingle roofs, a large, new church, " with a neat cupola 
 and bell on top." The gardens were surrounded by paling 
 fences, and the young orchards were beginning to bear well. 
 
 Their enemies, however, began to annoy the regenerated sav 
 ages greatly. The lordly Iroquois sold the land on which the 
 village was located to English speculators, and had the impu 
 dence to send two Spanish dollars to the Christian Indians as 
 their share of the purchase money. Surveyors came and pre 
 tended to lay out the land for the new owners. A thousand 
 indications of hostility were seen. The poor Indians became 
 alarmed. It was evident that they must leave their happy 
 settlement, throwing away the product of seven years' of toil, 
 and start anew in some other region. Long and prayerful con 
 sultations were held. The final resolution was taken. They 
 met to hold public worship for the last time in the chapel of 
 whiqj3> they had been so proud. A last look was taken at the 
 comfortable houses, the neat gardens, and the rich fields. Then 
 they, for whom there seemed to be no resting place on earth, 
 turned their faces toward the new home in the west. Surely 
 it at last would be one of permanent peace, happiness, and 
 security. 
 
 There were two hundred and forty-one persons in the party. 
 The details of the journey which have been preserved are few. 
 Some went by boat, taking all the plows, pick-axes, harrows, 
 
 29 
 
526 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 iron-pots, and other utensils. The land party had seventy head 
 of cattle to care for. They waded tremendous morasses, crossed 
 steep and rocky mountain ranges, waded and swam rivers with 
 out number. Many of the party were bitten by rattlesnakes. 
 They were stung by vicious insects. The measles broke out 
 among the children. One faithful Indian mother had a poor, 
 crippled son, whom she carried in a basket on her shoulders. 
 Day by day she journeyed on, feeling the burden on her back 
 grow lighter, and that on her heart grow heavier, until one 
 morning she found the load all transferred to the latter. A 
 rude grave was made, a simple prayer offered, and then the slow 
 procession moved on. One can feel that mother's heart turning 
 back forever afterward to the little mound in the wild wood. 
 
 Their destination was the banks of the Muskingum River, 
 where the Delawares had invited them to come. Worn and 
 weary they reached the river's banks, and knelt in simple 
 prayer of thankfulness to God. Here the new-comers built 
 three villages, Shonbrun, Lichtenau, and, in ( memory of the 
 past, and unwittingly in prophesy of the future, a third, named 
 Gnadenhutten. They succeeded, as they had ever done. Shon 
 brun was the larger and handsomest of the villages yet built 
 by the Christian Indians. It had sixty houses. The prospect 
 for the conversion of the entire Delaware nation seemed bright. 
 An " infidel " medicine man from the Six Nations, who came to 
 argue with the converts, was confuted and confused. The pleas 
 ant state of affairs was interrupted by Lord Dunmore's war. 
 
 War had always brought harm to the Christian Indians. The 
 hostilities ended without serious injury to the colony. It was 
 not long, however, till the black portents of the Revolution 
 appeared in the sky. The missionaries explained the trouble to 
 the Delawares, and through the influence of their chief, Captain 
 White Eyes, the nation resolved to remain neutral. This, of 
 course, was the attitude of the Christian colony. The colonies 
 invited the Delawares to come under the protection of their 
 government, but the recollection of the fate of the Conestogas 
 
,,...,... 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 529 
 
 and the Moravians, made them shrink from such a protector. 
 Yet, through 1776, and the stormy time of 1777, the Dela- 
 wares remained at home in peace. 
 
 The English, at Detroit, attributed this to the influence of 
 the missionaries. The Wyandots three times offered the war- 
 belt to the Delawares. Finally, word was sent to Shonbrun that 
 all would be murdered unless they left the place at once. Once 
 more these sad children were driven from home. The chapel 
 was torn down, that it might not be used for unholy purposes, 
 and the procession of exiles again wound through the forest, to 
 join one of the other settlements. As the terrible drama of 
 the border war progressed, the war parties of Indians would 
 pass through the peaceful settlements very frequently. Their 
 object was, perhaps, to annoy the people and excite the Dela 
 wares, or, perhaps, only to get a good meal, which they uni 
 formly demanded, and as uniformly received. One is not likely 
 to refuse some victuals to a band of painted savages, armed 
 with rifle and tomahawk. To have done so would probably 
 have resulted in the destruction of the settlements. Yet, these 
 acts were liable to misconstruction by the bold Indian fighters 
 of the border. Bitter experience had shown that the Christian 
 Indians would be confounded with the general mass. 
 
 On the other hand, a trio of deserters from Fort Pitt McKee, 
 Elliot, and Grirty spread reports among the Delawares that it 
 was the purpose of the Americans to kill every Indian in the 
 Ohio valley, and that an army was then on the march to carry 
 out the plan. An official denial of this lie was necessary in 
 order to prevent the Delawares from going to war at once. No 
 runner could be found to carry the message from Fort Pitt. 
 Heckewelder, the Moravian, undertook the dangerous journey. 
 He arrived among the Delawares not a moment too soon, but 
 he succeeded in convincing them of the falsity of the renegades' 
 story. For the present Captain White Eyes, chief of the peace 
 party among the Delawares, triumphed over his adversaries, who 
 threatened to lead the tribe against the helpless frontiers. 
 
530 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The Moravian settlements were between two merciless fires. 
 The English commander at Detroit burned with suspicion and 
 hostility toward the peaceful missionaries. He rightfully sus 
 pected them of holding the Delawares in check, but he attrib 
 uted to them the wrong motive. As has been said, the mission 
 aries were neutral, both in conduct and spirit. Nevertheless, 
 the petty annoyances, the everlasting incitements to warfare, 
 the harassing threats, the mysterious inuendoes, and the open 
 insolence of the emissaries, both white and Indian, compelled 
 the evacuation of not only Shonbrun, but also of the other set 
 tlements. Shonbrun was destroyed. At Gnadenhutten, the 
 chapel, cottages, barns, and gardens were left standing, unoccu 
 pied and desolate. 
 
 The refugees assembled at Lichtenau, some thirty miles 
 away. Here they were packed into small apartments, crowded 
 together at scanty and insufficient tables, and subjected to the 
 greatest discomforts. Their cattle, horses, and sheep were 
 herded in small pastures, designed for only one-third of their 
 number. Here, throughout the winter of 1778-79, the unfor 
 tunates, both human and brute, were compelled to remain. 
 
 As spring came on, grave questions confronted the mission 
 aries. The Christian Indians, impatient with their surround 
 ings, longed to return to the fertile gardens and tenantless houses 
 which they had, in their panic, abandoned during the previous year. 
 Aside from the motives which inspired these homesick creatures, 
 the missionaries became aware of other powerful reasons for 
 dividing the Lichtenau settlement. The American borderers had 
 suffered severely during the preceding year. They were now 
 waging an offensive warfare. They were pursuing the Indian 
 war-parties far into the west. Many Indian warriors passed 
 through Lichtenau to beg a meal. The whites, following their 
 trail, might at any time be led to the open village, throughout 
 the extent of which scarcely a gun was to be found, and, roused 
 by every feeling of hatred and indiscriminate vengeance, might 
 butcher every helpless inmate of the place. 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORA VI AN MASSACRE. 531 
 
 Gladly did the Christian Indians return to their old homes 
 at Gnadenhutten and Shonbrun. For nearly two years these 
 people considered themselves fortunate. They were left to till 
 their gardens in peace, with no more alarming occurrence than 
 the theft of their live stock. Lichtenau, however, continued 
 to have its troubles. Captain White Eyes, the great peace 
 chief of the Delawares, whose ambition and leadership had 
 always been directed toward the civilization of his low 
 browed people, died. Deputations from distant tribes, not 
 omitting the remote and terrible Cherokees, visited the Dela 
 wares. With blackened faces, with cruel thorns thrust in their 
 flesh, and with the sorrowful eloquence of the forest, these 
 ambassadors paid their tribute of grief to the memory of the 
 great departed. If the missionaries omitted to prick themselves 
 with thorns, paint themselves black, and utter lugubrious howls, 
 it was not because they were less sad at the chieftain's death. 
 
 Captain Pipe, the rival of White Eyes, at once became the 
 master spirit of his people. His voice was lifted for open war. 
 The poor people at Lichtenau became the victims of robbery 
 and murder. So intolerable did their situation become, that, in 
 the spring of 1780, they, in turn, were forced to abandon 
 their place. With streaming eyes, with hands uplifted to the 
 heavens, which seemed as brass above them, they join in a 
 farewell service, then thrust the torch into handsome little 
 church and settlement, and as the encircling flames leap upward, 
 the wanderers turn their faces toward Gnadenhutten. Earth 
 seemed to have no resting-place for her most heroic children. 
 
 Seven miles from Gnadenhutten, the brave Christian Indians 
 who, by their constancy, in the midst of suffering, to their new 
 religion, rivaled the martyrs who had preceded them by many 
 an age, again began the construction of a town. To this the 
 simple-minded people gave the gentle name of Salem. It was 
 eight weary months in building. December snows lay thick 
 upon the frozen ground, the wild animals were sleeping benumbed 
 in hollow trunks and hidden caverns, and cutting blasts roared 
 
532 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 loudly among the leafless branches of the trees, before the refu 
 gees were again gathered around the cheery firesides of comfort 
 able homes. Still, by their removal, they gained one thing. 
 That thing was peace. By peace, we are to understand, not a 
 life exempt from trouble, danger, and violence, but merely an 
 immunity from scalp-lifting and the insolent exactions of hostile 
 savages. The white people of the frontiers were very attentive. 
 Not a week passed in which horses, cattle, or sheep were not 
 stolen. These robberies, however, took place at night, and 
 the polite plunderers took great care not to disturb the sleeping 
 settlement. 
 
 The monotony of the settlers' lives was varied by disagree 
 able episodes. One day, when the good missionary Zeisberger 
 was passing through the forest, eight red ruffians, headed by 
 the white monster Simon Girty, sprang forward from the 
 shadow to murder him. This was the fruit of a wicked plot,, 
 of which warnings had already reached the settlement. But 
 Zeisberger, when told of it, had simply lifted his eyes to 
 heaven with a prayer to the God in whom he put his trust. 
 When his friends urged him to take precautions, he gently 
 rebuked them. To such he said, suggestively, " God will pro 
 tect me." Either in answer to the good man's prayer, or by 
 some happy chance, some Delawares passed by just as the 
 murderers were about to put the missionary to death. And 
 at sight of the new-comers, Girty and his gang took to their 
 heels. Zeisberger found in his deliverance a new miracle with 
 which to excite the reverence of the Indians among whom 
 he labored. 
 
 This incident was the first indication to the missionaries of 
 a dark and far-reaching conspiracy for their destruction, more 
 portentous than any which had yet alarmed them. The Iro- 
 quois had been urged to take in hand the work of destruction. 
 This lordly people had, however, no mind to soil their fingers 
 with the bloody task. They simply sent messengers to the 
 Ojibwas, Ottawas, and Wyandots. Their messages ran thus : 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORA VIAN MASSACRE. 533 
 
 " We herewith make you a present of the Christian Indians on the 
 MusJcingum to make broth of!' 
 
 The Wyandots accepted the bloody gift. An expedition was 
 at once fitted out. On the 10th of August, 1780, one hundred 
 and fifty plumed and painted warriors appeared before the 
 startled town of Salem. They demanded an interview with 
 the leading men of the settlement. Messengers were sent off 
 in the night to Shonbrun and to Gnadenhutten with short, sharp 
 information of the danger. When Zeisberger received the news 
 he said, " It then has the appearance as if Satan is again about 
 to make himself merry by persecuting us." 
 
 The old missionary was about correct. During the follow 
 ing day, the Indians, with re-enforcements, having forced the 
 frightened settlers to empty their larders of their choicest con 
 tents, repaired to Gnadenhutten for the conference. Only the 
 chiefs took part in this. The common Indians had a grand 
 drunk, which lasted a week. In this time they frightened the 
 peaceful Christian Indians almost to death by their hideous 
 threats and insults. The half king of the Wyandots demanded 
 that the Christian Indians should at once leave their settlements 
 and go upon the war-path. To this the unfortunates replied 
 with tears and entreaties. The situation of the settlement was 
 critical. That the inhabitants would be murdered in case of 
 refusal to comply with the demands of the Wyandots was 
 highly probable. 
 
 The plan for the murder of the missionaries was perfected. 
 The warriors became surly and threatening. They would bran 
 dish their hatchets in the faces of the missionaries with horrid 
 curses. In spite of their danger, the Christian Indians stood by 
 their bold refusal. In this crisis, Zeisberger delivered a power 
 ful and eloquent sermon in the hostile camp. It seems to have 
 had but little effect. Within half an hour Zeisberger, Sense- 
 man, and Hecke welder found themselves prisoners. The settle 
 ments were panic-stricken. The prisoners were bound and 
 placed under guard. Poor Heckewelder, to his anguish, was 
 
534 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 shortly informed that forty Indians were going to Salem to get 
 his wife and child. The information was correct. At midnight 
 the party returned in triumph. Hecke welder's home had been 
 entered, his wife and child made prisoners. The feather beds 
 had been emptied into the yard, and sacks of coffee, and barrels 
 of flour scattered through the streets. 
 
 For several days these terrible scenes continued. The result 
 was inevitable. For perhaps the fifteenth time the settlements 
 of the Moravians were abandoned. Gnadenhutten, Shonbrun, 
 and Salem were left desolate and deserted. Many head of cat 
 tle were left behind. Large stores of provision remained in 
 the cellars of the houses. Many hundred acres of corn, almost 
 ripe for harvest, were left in the field without a hand to gather 
 in the abundant yield. 
 
 The journey was made partly by land, partly by canoes. 
 One night a terrific storm burst upon the encampment of 
 wretched refugees. Even the women, with babes in their arms, 
 stood knee-deep in the flood which covered their camping- 
 ground. Large trees were torn up by the roots. Others were 
 broken off and carried by the wind for an immense distance. 
 Every camp-fire was put out. Alarmed and wretched, the poor 
 people passed hour after hour in the darkness of the night, amid 
 the convulsions of the elements and the fury of the storm. This 
 was but one of many hardships. Sometimes the Indians cruelly 
 struck the prisoners, staggering under heavy packs. 
 
 At last, on the eleventh day of October, 1781, they reached 
 their destination, on the upper Sandusky River. There the 
 Wyandots, taking all the valuable provision, unceremoniously 
 left the unfortunates to shift for themselves. The situation was 
 full of wretchedness. The milch-cows failed for want of pas 
 turage. Corn was only to be had by paying a dollar for two 
 or three quarts. Increasing cold caused the keenest suffering 
 to the wanderers, who were encamped in the open air in the 
 midst of a vast and barren prairie. The very logs with which to 
 construct houses had to be dragged a great distance. 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 535 
 
 Leaving the others to prepare such shelter as they could, the 
 four white missionaries were summoned to Detroit, to be tried 
 for treason to the English. They made the journey amid insuf 
 ferable hardships, arriving at Detroit with scarcely a rag on 
 their backs, barefooted, famished, and sick at heart. The good 
 missionaries made a favorable impression on their judges. They 
 were not only acquitted, but sent back home with generous 
 supplies of provision, clothing, and blankets. Their return to 
 the rough camp on the Sandusky was the occasion of great joy. 
 A little meeting-house was built. Heckewelder writes : " The 
 Christmas holydays, notwithstanding our poverty, were cele 
 brated with cheerfulness and a blessing, and the year concluded 
 with thanks and praises to Him who is ever the guardian and 
 savior of his people." 
 
 The memorable year of 1782 opened with disasters which 
 formed true omens of the sad events which were near at hand. 
 The cold became insupportable. Fire-wood was almost wholly 
 wanting. At every thaw the water forced itself into the floor- 
 less cabins. The cattle dropped dead from starvation. Suck 
 ling babes perished for want of nourishment from their mothers' 
 impoverished breasts. One pint of corn a day was the allow 
 ance to each person. In spite of this destitution, bullying 
 Wyandots, and even Simon Girty himself, would force their 
 way into the cabins of the unhappy people, and insolently 
 demand the preparation of .a good meal. 
 
 These hardships led the Christian Indians to a desperate 
 resolve. They determined to make their way back to Gnaden- 
 hutten, gather the corn left standing in the fields, and bring 
 supplies to their starving families. They set out at once on 
 their journey, leaving those behind to count the weary days till 
 their return. Arrived at Gnadenhutten, they commenced the 
 work of gathering the corn. Some was stored in holes in the 
 ground. Quantities were put up in packs for transportation. 
 They were on the point of beginning their return trip, when 
 four Sandusky warriors met them with alarming news. This 
 
536 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 quartet of savages had captured a white woman and her child 
 and put them to death. The whites had found, the mangled 
 remains, and were in full pursuit of the murderers. Before the 
 Christian Indians had made their start homeward, a party of 
 two hundred enraged borderers dashed into Gnadenhutten. 
 Their hands were already reddened with the murder of two 
 half-bloods on the outskirts of the settlement. Of this, the 
 Indians, scattered through their corn-fields, were ignorant. One 
 party of Indians surrendered at once on the promise that they 
 would be taken to Pittsburgh. No one suspected the bloody 
 intentions of the whites. The innocent Christian Indians were 
 completely deceived. The whites represented themselves as 
 devout Christians. They took a pious interest in the meeting 
 house, and solemnly inquired as to the state of the Indians' 
 souls. Their only wish was to have the Indians lay down their 
 arms and go with them to Pittsburgh, where their hardships and 
 sufferings would be over, and where they would be joined by 
 their friends from the Sandusky. 
 
 To this plan the unsuspecting Indians gave a joyous assent. 
 The designing whites induced them to send messengers to Salem 
 and elsewhere, to summon their companions to assemble at Gna 
 denhutten. These simple-hearted people fell into the snare. No 
 sooner were they all at Gnadenhutten, and disarmed, than the 
 conduct of the whites underwent a sudden change. The Indians 
 were informed that they were prisoners. They were accused of 
 having stolen property from the white people of the frontiers. 
 They were charged with having massacred the settlers. They 
 were impeached for sympathy with the British, and for treach 
 ery to the Americans. The borderers heaped upon them insults, 
 and with the most frightful curses struck one after another of 
 the unresisting people to the ground. 
 
 The Christian Indians were informed that they must die. 
 To the protestations of innocence and prayers for mercy the 
 black-hearted and enraged borderers turned an ear of stone. 
 The condemned saw that their doom was fixed. Faithful even 
 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORA V1AN MASSACRE. 537 
 
 in death to the religion which had involved them in such suf 
 fering: which, while it had opened their eyes to the truth, had 
 only led them into an unending career of misery, they begged a 
 short respite in which they might make a last sad preparation 
 for death. The request was granted. Asking pardon for what 
 ever offense they had given or grief they had occasioned, they 
 kneeled down, offering fervent prayers to God, and kissing one 
 another under a flood of tears, they commended their souls to 
 the Savior, their great exemplar in suffering. 
 
 A farewell song, which they had been singing, was scarcely 
 finished, when one of the murderers picked up a cooper's mal 
 let. " This," said he, " will exactly suit our purpose." A 
 deadly hatred glittered in his unfeeling eye. With a hasty 
 stride forward he dashed out the brains of the nearest Indian, 
 whose eyes were closed and hands uplifted, as he still knelt in 
 prayer. Not an Indian stirred as the murderer proceeded down 
 the line. Again and again he performed the act of murder, 
 until a row of fourteen ghastly corpses marked his bloody 
 path. Breathless with the awful work, he tossed the mallet to 
 a companion, saying, " Go on with the glorious work. I have 
 done pretty well." 
 
 This was but the opening scene in the tragedy. The flood 
 gates of murder were open. The tide would have its way. 
 Old men and young men, loving mothers, gentle maidens, and 
 unconscious babes, innocent in the -sight of earth and heaven, 
 meek and unresisting as lambs led to the slaughter, were mas 
 sacred outright. Ninety persons were put to death within 
 a half an hour. Sixty-two of the number were grown per 
 sons, the remainder laughing bright-eyed children. Only two 
 captives escaped the massacre. One crept under a plank in 
 the floor, and lay concealed, while the blood of his compan 
 ions dripped through the open cracks upon his face. The 
 other, though knocked down and scalped, was not killed. After 
 nightfall, he crept through a small window and stole away. 
 Another boy was unable to get out at the window, on account 
 

 538 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of his size, and was left imprisoned until the building was fired 
 and the crackling flames released his soul from earth. 
 
 Glutted with their deeds of vengeance, finding no more 
 work for their reddened hands to do, the monsters reluctantly 
 withdrew to the shades of the neighboring forest. One of 
 them, as if unsatisfied, returned to feast his fiendish eyes upon 
 the horrid scene. At that moment, a youth, mangled and 
 bloody, was lifting himself upon his hand. A smile of gratifi 
 cation crossed the white man's face as he buried his tomahawk 
 in the brain of the unfortunate. As night drew on, the houses 
 of the settlement were fired. Henceforth the peaceful name of 
 Gnadenhutten was to stand as the title of the place which the 
 wrath of man, insane and wicked, had given over, without right 
 or reason, to fire and blood. 
 
 Days and weeks passed by, and still the scene of slaughter 
 remained a solitude. The flowers of spring blossomed out in all 
 their old-time fragrance and beauty. The somber forests were 
 embowered in soft, green foliage as rich and lovely as before. 
 The sunny skies of May were just as blue, the waving verdure of 
 the prairies had just as bright an emerald hue, the gentle breezes 
 of the spring were just as balmy as when the humble converts 
 of the Moravian missions looked out upon the landscape with 
 happy faces and grateful hearts. The awful crime had left no 
 stain upon the face of nature. Its only record was the unburied 
 skeletons of the slain. Years have come and gone, until a cen 
 tury has rolled its ponderous wheels around. Other genera 
 tions of men, ignorant or thoughtless of the past, now popu 
 late the accursed spot of the slaughter. Only now and then 
 does some curious reader peruse the red pages of the story of 
 the massacre. 
 
 It would be interesting to fellow the career of the missionaries 
 and their converts, which were left on the Sandusky River. 
 They endured this blow, as they had all others, without a mur 
 mur against the God they worshiped. It was not long, however, 
 before they were compelled to abandon their settlement. Again 
 
MORAVIAN MISSIONARIES AMONG THE INDIANS. 
 

 
GNADENHUTTEN AND THE MORAVIAN MASSACRE. 541 
 
 and again they sought to find a resting place; sometimes in 
 Canada, sometimes in the territory of the States, once even 
 near the site of the fated Gnadenhutten. But in no place did 
 their neighbors permit them to remain longer than two or three 
 years, and often scarcely as many months. No less than seven 
 removals are recorded after the massacre. At last, even the 
 invincible courage and sublime faith of the missionaries wavered. 
 The converts, already weary with the conflict with their external 
 foes, were attacked by internal enemies. Skepticism, heathen 
 ism, and savage passions fought hand-to-hand with the Christian 
 faith of the proselytes. A few remained faithful. Some suc 
 cumbed. After so many years of suffering, the western mis 
 sions of the Moravians were abandoned. Some twenty-five 
 times since they came to America had these peaceful ministers 
 been driven from their settlements, which they had founded 
 with infinite pain and toil. The odds of ignorance, brutality, 
 and wickedness were too great. Such of the pious missionaries 
 as had survived the struggle made their way back to the 
 peaceful Bethlehem. They had gone out from there young, 
 vigorous, full of faith. They returned gray-headed, bent with 
 age and exposure, disappointed and defeated. 
 
542 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. 
 
 OR the traitor there has been erected in every 
 age and country a pillar of historic infamy. 
 By whatever name he is known, apostate, ren 
 egade, turncoat, or Tory, mankind have for him 
 one universal expression of contempt. His 
 name, of all historic characters, is buried the 
 deepest in the inire. He becomes a by-word, 
 a hissing, a reproach among the nations of the 
 earth. For him no curse is bitter enough, no oblivion black 
 enough. He lives in the midst of the fiercest passions which 
 darken the human heart. He is a hater and the hated. The 
 rage which he excites among the followers of the cause which 
 he has deserted is only equaled by the disgust and secret 
 loathing which he inspires among the partisans of the cause 
 which he has joined. 
 
 Of all enmities, that of the apostate is most bitter. Of all 
 hatreds, that of the renegade is most bloody. Within him rage 
 storms of wrath, without him storm tempests of calumny. 
 When the occasion for his shame has passed, and he is no longer 
 useful to the ranks of which he became the dishonored recruit, 
 he is sent without the camp. He is spurned as a viper. He is 
 shunned as a leper. He is despised as a devil. 
 
 Another man fights and falls in the cause of wrong, yet to 
 him mankind accords the laurels of heroism. Upon his tomb 
 the historian inscribes the legend, "He was mistaken, but he 
 was great." From that time on his error is forgotten. His 
 
THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. 543 
 
 name is inscribed among those of the heroes and the martyrs. 
 The philosopher moralizes upon his career. He points out the 
 fact that the dead was in the grasp of immutable laws ; that he 
 was not his own master; that ancestry, birth, place, tempera 
 ment, surroundings, fortune, accident, and circumstances are the 
 powers which have controlled him, in whose Titanic grasp he 
 was but a puppet. This is the charity of history. This is the 
 kindness of philosophy. This is the imperial task to which 
 the human mind of after ages devotes herself, the task of pre 
 serving and immortalizing Truth, Heroism, and Honor, where- 
 ever found. 
 
 Not so with the renegade. He is the abhorrence of all 
 future generations. He may have fallen fighting in the ranks 
 of the brave and true. No matter. Above his grave rises the 
 black shaft of sharne. He may have made fearful sacrifices. 
 He may have deserted one cause and joined another from an 
 honest intellectual conviction. It is nothing. For him men 
 have but epithets of shame, sneers of derision. He is disowned 
 and dishonored. For him there is no charity. His virtues pass 
 into oblivion. His solitary crime of apostasy becomes over 
 shadowing and colossal. Philosophy refuses to inquire into the 
 origin and reasons of his infamy. He, too, may have been a 
 puppet, moved by invisible wires from remote agencies. Yet 
 for his sin there is no atonement, no mercy-seat. His name is 
 inscribed with those of Benedict Arnold and Brutus, of Julian 
 and Judas Iscariot. 
 
 Concerning such characters the real truth is never known. 
 The whirlwinds of abuse which overwhelm their lives throw 
 dust in the eyes of the historian. He sees only a vast mass 
 of slanders, invectives, reproaches, and vilifications. There 
 seems to have been no good in the man. Passion, it may be, 
 has exaggerated his vices. Enmity may have lied about his 
 virtues. But the exact truth can never be obtained. He may 
 have been worse than he seems ; he may have been better than 
 he seems. Concerning these things it is impossible to judge. 
 
544 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 To the ranks of traitors of which we have been speaking 
 belongs Simon Girty, the Renegade, or the White Savage. It is 
 not impossible that he has been slandered. We can not tell. 
 The story of his life is certainly a black one. 
 
 Among all the Tories of the Revolution Simon Girty was 
 the most notorious. He was born in north-western Pennsyl 
 vania. His father was an Irishman. " The old man was beastly 
 intemperate. A jug of whisky was the extent of his ambition. 
 Grog was his song, and grog would he have. His sottishness 
 turned his wife's affection. Ready for seduction, she yielded 
 her heart to a neighboring rustic, who, to remove all obstacles 
 to their wishes, knocked old Girty on the head, and bore off the 
 trophy of his prowess." 
 
 The murdered man had been an Indian trader. He left 
 four boys, Thomas, Simon, George, and James. During the Old 
 French war the three younger boys were taken captive by the 
 Indians. Inheriting the nature of savages, their surroundings 
 only developed them. Each was adopted into an Indian tribe. 
 Each became a blood-thirsty ruffian, and during long careers of 
 violence inflicted every cruelty upon the persons and families 
 of the white settlers. 
 
 Of the three brothers Simon became the most notorious, as 
 he was the most wicked. At the close of Pontiac's war, Girty 
 was delivered to Bouquet as a hostage for the good behavior of 
 the Senecas, of which tribe he was a member. The savage pro 
 pensities of the young ruffian were so strong that he escaped 
 from his civilized companions, and sought again the wild and 
 wicked life of the wigwams. Strangely enough his appetite for 
 barbarism was at this time forced to remain unsatisfied. The 
 Senecas, being bound by the condition in the treaty of peace, 
 deliberately took Mr. Girty by force, and dragged him back to 
 Pittsburgh. 
 
 Of course, when Dunmore's war broke out in 1774, Girty's 
 natural taste for scenes of violence led him to take an active 
 part. Here he met Simon Kenton, for whose life he afterwards 
 
THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. . 545 
 
 interceded with the Wyandots. Here, too, he met Colonel Craw 
 ford, at whose hospitable cabin on the Youghiogheny he was a 
 frequent guest. In attempting to account for his subsequent 
 treachery and desertion, the border writers mention several 
 incidents, which tradition reports as having transpired about 
 this time. 
 
 One story goes that he aspired to the hand of one of Colonel 
 Crawford's daughters. The refusal, with which his advances 
 were met, poisoned his malignant heart with a sleepless long 
 ing for revenge. This account is supposed to furnish some 
 reason for Girty's awful inhumanity to Colonel Crawford some 
 years later. 
 
 Another story runs to the effect that Girty and another 
 scout, having rendered some two or three months' service in the 
 militia, without receiving their pay, repaired to the head 
 quarters of General Lewis, and insolently demanded that the 
 arrears of salary be made up. The military discipline of the 
 time seems to have been a little singular, for General Lewis not 
 only received the application with a storm of curses, but pro 
 ceeded to exercise himself in bloodying the heads of the two 
 scouts with several severe blows from his cane. Strangely 
 enough this style of reception and military etiquette displeased 
 the untutored scouts. Girty picked himself up, and shaking his 
 fist at the general, with a fearful oath, threateningly said, " jSir, 
 for this your quarters shall swim in blood." 
 
 On the 22d of February, 1775, a day which, at that time, 
 was not yet celebrated as the birthday of the Father of his 
 country, Girty became a commissioned officer in the militia at 
 Pittsburgh. In accordance with English laws, he took the 
 necessary oaths of allegiance to the king and his abhorrence 
 of papacy. 
 
 Here, again, the ingenious border writers find a reason for 
 Girty's faithlessness. They say he aspired to a captaincy, but 
 was only made an orderly-sergeant. This affront his sensitive 
 soul could by no means endure. He remained, however, in the 
 
 30 
 
546 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 service at Fort Pitt until the early part of 1778. That his real 
 sympathies, if such his inclinations might be called, were with 
 the Indians, among whom he had been raised, and not with the 
 struggling cause of the colonial patriots, is natural, and easy to 
 believe. 
 
 A savage seeks the society of savages, just as surely as a 
 gentleman seeks that of gentlemen. Accordingly we find Girty, 
 together with a pair of precious scoundrels, McKee and Elliott, 
 and twelve followers, one day making up their packs and desert 
 ing from Fort Pitt. The news spread far and wide over the 
 agitated frontiers. Wherever the ruffians went, they spread lies 
 about the defeat of the American forces, the triumph of the 
 British, and the intention of the colonists to avenge their defeat 
 by the murder of every Indian in the Ohio valley. The settlers 
 trembled for the safety of their families. The mischief which 
 the white scoundrels might work among credulous and excitable 
 savages was incalculable. Their evil designs were looked upon 
 as a matter of certainty. 
 
 Nor did the fears of the settlers exaggerate the real dan 
 gers of the situation. The Indians were made to believe that 
 George Washington was killed, and that the members of Con 
 gress were hung in the very chambers where they had been 
 accustomed to deliberate. As poor Hecke welder said, speaking 
 of the renegade's visit to Gnadenhutten : " It was enough to 
 break the hearts of the missionaries." 
 
 Girty started for Detroit. On the way he was captured by 
 the Wyandots. Some Senecas demanded that he be delivered 
 up to them, on the ground that he was an adopted member 
 of their tribe, and had taken arms against them. In fact, 
 Girty's national allegiance was a little mixed. "Was he a traitor 
 to the Senecas, or to the Americans, or to both, or to neither ? 
 For this enigma, the Wyandot chief had a solution. " He is our 
 prisoner." Such logic won the day. By shrewd explanations 
 that he was now devoted to their cause Girty procured himself 
 to be set at liberty, and proceeded to Detroit. Here the com- 
 
THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. 547 
 
 mandant, Hamilton, gave him a hearty reception. He was at 
 once employed by the British upon a salary to incite the Indians 
 to warfare upon the unprotected settlers of the border. 
 
 Girty was now in his element. To the instinctive ferocity 
 of his own nature, he added the relentless zeal of the renegade. 
 His name became a household word of terror all along the 
 border, from Pittsburgh to Louisville. About it hung every 
 association of cruelty and fiendishness. Dressed and painted 
 like an Indian, he seemed, as he really was, the very incarna 
 tion of fierceness and brutality. Inheriting from his Irish ances 
 try a capacity for rude eloquence, with which the children of 
 the Emerald Isle are often gifted, his terrible voice rose high 
 and commanding above all the hideous clamor and savage din 
 of every Indian council-house. Convulsed with fury, a human 
 volcano in eruption, he awed the savages themselves by the 
 resistless torrents of his rage, and excited their admiration and 
 emulation by his infinite thirst for blood and infernal schemes 
 of vengeance. 
 
 The picture of the man, as it is preserved for us in the 
 tales of the borders, represents him as a monstrosity in human 
 form. We can fairly hear him yet, as he stalked through the 
 village, or galloped through the forest, filling the air with an 
 awful din and roar of oaths and curses. He it was who inspired 
 and directed the many attacks on the settlers of the Ohio val 
 ley. It was the diabolical brain of Girty which tormented the 
 Christian Indians of the Moravian settlements, drove them from 
 spot to spot, and placed them in that ambiguous position which 
 the pioneers mistook for treachery or hostility, and which 
 resulted in the slaughter of more than ninety of their number. 
 
 One, among many instances of his cruelty toward them, 
 must be related. Shortly after the massacre at Gnadenhutten, 
 Heckewelder, Zeisberger, and two other missionaries were 
 ordered by Girty to meet him on the lower Sandusky. Here 
 they were hospitably received by some traders. The traders 
 told them that Girty had commanded them to proceed to 
 
548 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Detroit forthwith. But exhausted by their toilsome journey 
 on foot, the missionaries availed themselves of the kind invi 
 tation of the traders to remain at this point for a week or two. 
 
 Here, for the first time, they learned of the awful tragedy 
 on the Muskingum. Their minds were greatly uneasy, not only 
 by reason of the fearful news, but also from an apprehension 
 that Girty might return from a terrible expedition against the 
 frontiers and find his orders disobeyed with regard to their 
 being taken to Detroit. 
 
 The two missionaries were quartered in different houses, 
 separated by some distance. Between them lay the restless 
 and filthy town of the Wyandots. For the missionaries to pass 
 through the village and visit one another was an undertaking 
 of considerable danger. Nevertheless, it was attempted a time 
 or two. One day, when the Indian village seemed all quiet, 
 Heckewelder ventured to cross it to the house where his friends 
 were lodged. He reached the place in safety. 
 
 While engaged in conversation, the missionaries were horri 
 fied and startled by two scalp-yells from different directions. Two 
 war-parties were just returning. Heckewelder at once started 
 from the house, which stood on a lofty ridge of ground, to make 
 his way back to his quarters. The elevated ground prevented 
 the people of the village from hearing the scalp-yell of the war- 
 party approaching from the rear of the house in which Hecke 
 welder was talking. The savages all ran in the opposite direc 
 tion to meet the other party. Heckewelder followed in their 
 rear, and passed the deserted village in safety. 
 
 But the missionaries' troubles were not ended. Girty re 
 turned, and behaved like a madman on learning that they were 
 there. "He flew at the Frenchman," says Heckewelder, "who 
 was in the room adjoining ours, most furiously, striking him, 
 and threatening to split his head in two, for disobeying the 
 orders he had given him. He swore the most horrid oaths 
 respecting us, and continued in that way until after midnight. 
 His oaths were all to the purport that he would never leave the 
 
THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. 549 
 
 house until 'he split our heads in two with his tomahawk, and 
 made our brains stick to the walls of the rooms in which we 
 were ! I omit the names he called us by and the words he 
 made use of while swearing, as also the place he would go to if 
 he. did not fulfill all which he had sworn he would do to us. 
 He had somewhere procured liquor, and would, as we were told 
 by those who were near him, at every drink renew his oaths, 
 which he repeated until he fell asleep. 
 
 "Never before did any of us hear the like oaths, or know any 
 one to rave like him. He appeared like a host of evil spirits. 
 He would sometimes come up to the bolted door between us and 
 him, threatening to chop it in pieces to get at us. No Indian 
 we ever saw drunk w r ould have been a match for him. How 
 we should escape the clutches of this white beast in human 
 form -no one could foresee." 
 
 The poor missionaries passed a miserable night, within the 
 sound of the fearful ravings of the monster. When morning 
 dawned they were fortunately enabled to leave the place in a 
 boat which was going to Detroit. 
 
 The wicked and devilish part which Girty played in the exe 
 cution of Colonel Crawford is given in another chapter, as is 
 also the incident of a different character, in which he attempted 
 to save Kenton's life. Toward the close of the Revolutionary 
 War a thread of romance is twisted like a skein of gold through 
 the dark web of Girty's career. 
 
 In March 1779 a family of emigrants named Malott embarked 
 on the Monongahela in two flat-bottomed boats for a voyage to 
 Kentucky. Mrs. Malqtt and her five children, with Captain 
 Reynolds, were in the rear boat. Mrs. Reynolds, several chil 
 dren, and a Mrs. Hardin were in the forward boat. Some forty 
 miles below Wheeling the little fleet, in which there were also 
 some canoes, was attacked by Indians. 
 
 Several of the voyagers were killed, and no less than nine 
 teen of them taken prisoner to the squalid villages of the Dela- 
 wares and the Wyandots. Among these was Catharine Malott, 
 
550 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 then fifteen years old. Some three years afterward, when Mrs. 
 Malott had obtained her liberty at Detroit, she seems to have 
 employed Girty to trace her children. He found Catharine, a 
 very pretty girl, adopted into an Indian family. The people 
 being very proud of her, refused to give her up. Girty 's influ 
 ence, and a well-timed promise, which was never intended to be 
 kept, that she should be returned after visiting her mother in 
 Detroit, secured her release. 
 
 Once at Detroit, Girty married her. During the next seven 
 years Girty, softened somewhat by his new relations, remained 
 comparatively quiet, leading the life of an Indian trader. For 
 awhile he was tolerably quiet. In time, however, he became a 
 hard drinker, and was separated from his family. 
 
 When the Indians of the west, after some years of compar 
 ative quiet, following the close of the Revolutionary War, .com 
 bined in one last and furious effort to drive the white man from 
 the territory of their fathers, an attempt which was met by the 
 memorable and unfortunate expedition of General Harmar in 
 1790, by the no less tragic campaign of St. Glair in 1791, and 
 finally, by the triumphant and overwhelming blow inflicted by 
 General Wayne in 1794, Simon Girty again became prominent 
 among the savages. At every council his voice 'was lifted in 
 the support of bitter, relentless, and continued war. He was 
 present, animating the Indian forces by his reckless courage, at 
 each important battle of these campaigns. One incident early 
 in 1791 has been preserved. 
 
 A party of hunters from Cincinnati were startled by the 
 discharge of fire-arms from the neighborhood of Dunlap's Sta 
 tion. This was a settlement on the Great Miami River, eight 
 miles from Hamilton. Here the settlers had erected several 
 block-houses, connected by a stockade, fronting southward on 
 the river at a point where the water is deep. The hunters beat 
 a hasty retreat for Cincinnati, seventeen miles away. No one 
 doubted that the station had been attacked by Indians. 
 
 Before daylight seventy men left Cincinnati for the relief 
 
THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. 551 
 
 of the station. On arriving at the fort, they learned that the 
 Indians had withdrawn. One man had been killed by a shot 
 fired through a crack between the logs. Not far from the fort 
 they found the body of Abner Hunt. It was mangled, the 
 brains beaten out, and two war-clubs laid across the breast. 
 Hunt had been out with three companions named Wallace, 
 Sloan, and Cunningham, exploring the country. Cunningham 
 was killed on the spot by an ambuscade of Indians; Hunt was 
 captured only to be subsequently put to death. Wallace took 
 to flight. Two fleet Indians pursued. In his flight Wallace 
 had the misfortune to be tripped and thrown by the loosening 
 of his leggins. He pluckily tied them up, and escaped in spite 
 of the mishap. Sloan and Wallace carried the news of the 
 Indians' approach to the fort. 
 
 Before sunrise on the 10th of January, the women of the 
 fort, while milking the cows, raised an alarm cry that the 
 Indians were upon them. Before the fight was begun, Simon 
 Girty strode forward toward the fort, driving Abner Hunt before 
 him by means of a rope, with which the prisoner was bound. 
 Within speaking distance of the fort was a large stump. This 
 Girty compelled Hunt to mount and to urge the surrender of 
 the fort in the most earnest manner. Lieutenant Kingsbury, in 
 command at the station, replied that he would not surrender if 
 he were surrounded by five hundred devils and persuaded to do 
 so by Demosthenes himself. An Indian shot at him, and struck 
 off the white plume from his hat. Girty, to revenge himself 
 for this disappointment, drove poor Hunt back to a spot on the 
 plain, which, though out of range of the guns, was in full view 
 of the garrison. Here he proceeded to torture the unhappy 
 wretch, and finally put him to death. 
 
 This scene over, the Indians began a desperate attack. They 
 fired from behind stumps, trees, and logs. A pile of brush near 
 the stockade was soon in flames. The Indians then rushed for 
 ward with fire-brands to burn the block-houses, but they were 
 driven back by a whirlwind of bullets. All day long the attack 
 
552 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 was continued. Night brought no relief. The entire number in 
 the fort was about thirty men, and as many women and chil 
 dren. Girty conducted the attack with great boldness and inge 
 nuity. But the stubborn resistance of the defenders of the 
 station successfully met him at every point. Both men and 
 women teased the savages by momentarily exposing themselves 
 above the pickets and inviting a shot. 
 
 That night, at ten o'clock, John S. Wallace attempted to 
 leave the fort, in order to make his way to Cincinnati and pro 
 cure relief. So vigilant were the besiegers, that he was unable 
 to pass through their lines. For three hours he continued his 
 attempts. Driven back each time, he next turned his atten 
 tion to the river. The night was very dark. There were no 
 indications of the presence of savages on the opposite bank. 
 
 About three o'clock in the morning, Mr. Wallace and a sol 
 dier named William Wiseman got into a canoe, and silently 
 paddled across the river. They then made their way on foot 
 through the river bottoms for a couple of miles. An attempt 
 to cross the river on the floating ice proved unsuccessful. At 
 the spot where New Baltimore stands, they at last did get 
 across, and early in the day met the relief party from Cincin 
 nati, of which we have already spoken. 
 
 Another battle in which Girty was known to be engaged 
 was that which resulted in St. Clair's defeat, twenty-three miles 
 north of Greenville, Ohio. During the rout of the American 
 army, Girty captured a white woman. A Wyandot squaw at 
 once demanded that the female captive be given to her, in 
 accordance with the Indian custom. Girty refused, and became 
 furious. The decline of his influence, a thing which has been 
 experienced by every renegade, is shown by the fact that the 
 warriors came up and forced Girty to give up the captive. 
 
 After this we hear of Girty establishing a trading-house on 
 the siyte of the present town of St. Mary's, Mercer County, Ohio. 
 Girty was also present at the famous battle of Fallen Timbers, 
 in 1794, after which he moved to Maiden, Canada. He was 
 
THE CRUELTIES OF GIRTY. 553 
 
 perpetually haunted by the fear of falling into the hands of the 
 Americans. In 1796, when Detroit was upon the point of a 
 final surrender by the British, he happened to be in the city. 
 Some boat loads of American troops were coming in sight. 
 Girty would not wait for the ferry-boat, but excitedly plunged 
 his horse into the Detroit River, and made for the Canada 
 shore, pouring out volleys of curses upon the Americans all 
 the way. 
 
 In 1813 a Mr. Workman, of Ohio, stopped at a hotel kept 
 by a Frenchman, in Maiden. Sitting in the bar-room in a cor 
 ner by the glowing fire-place was a blind and gray-headed old 
 man. He was about five feet, ten inches in height, broad across 
 the chest, and of powerful and muscular build. He was then 
 nearly seventy years old. The old man was none other than 
 the notorious Simon Girty. He had been blind for four years, 
 and was afflicted with rheumatism and other intolerable diseases, 
 a perfect sot, a complete human wreck. He lingered on through 
 two more years of misery, and, at last, died without a friend 
 and without a hope. 
 
554 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 
 
 MONGr the many unfortunate military enterprises 
 undertaken on the western border during the 
 Revolutionary War, none is more notable than 
 that against Sandusky, under Colonel William 
 Crawford. Cornwallis had surrendered. The 
 war with England was at an end. The patri 
 otic minds of the colonies, inspired by the mag 
 nificent destiny dawning upon their country, 
 were already busy with the great problems of self-government. 
 On the western frontiers, however, the murderous forays of 
 the Indians raged with unprecedented violence. The settlers 
 continued to be roused at midnight in their lonely cabins by 
 the blood-curdling war-cry. Children continued to be snatched 
 away into captivity by dark hands thrust out from behind 
 clumps of bushes and fallen logs. The corpses of the near and 
 dear still continued to be found in lonely ravines or open fields. 
 The center of the Indian power was at Sandusky. In 1782 
 a permission for the organization of a great volunteer expedition 
 against the Indians of the west was about all the government 
 could do. This, however, was enough. Far and wide through 
 the settlements along the Monongahela, the Youghiogheny, and 
 the Ohio went the thrilling word that the expedition was to 
 start on the 20th of May. 
 
 The popular heart, inspired by the successes of the Revolu 
 tion, was now fired with enthusiasm and zeal for an attack on 
 the deadly enemies of the west. In many an isolated cabin 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 555 
 
 there was a lively stir of preparation. With troubled forebod 
 ings many a mother heard the resolutions of brave sons to join 
 the march to the front. Maidens, parting from their lovers, sat 
 in the shadow of their first sorrow. Children, whose tongues 
 had scarcely learned to lisp the dreaded syllable of war, sobbed 
 in solitude at the absence of the stalwart forms they loved. 
 
 The scene at Mingo Bottom, the rendezvous for. the expedi 
 tion, was truly American. For ten days beforehand the border 
 ers came riding in, equipped in homely fashion for the campaign. 
 The pioneer soldier was a curiosity. His buckskin hunting-shirt 
 was belted at the waist. Through the belt was thrust the cruel 
 tomahawk, the glittering scalping-knife, and the string of his 
 ammunition-pouch. His hat of felt or fur was not infrequently 
 decorated with tossing plumes, or the tails of animals. Over 
 his shoulder he carried his rifle. Perhaps in his bosom was 
 thrust some memento, a handkerchief or a scarf from some 
 admiring maiden. 
 
 When at last the grim and motley assemblage was complete, 
 its first task was to elect officers. William Crawford received 
 two hundred and thirty-five out of the four hundred and sixty- 
 five votes cast, and was declared colonel in command of the 
 expedition. He had had considerable military experience, and 
 was fitted by nature to be a soldier and a leader. He was 
 ambitious, cool, and brave. Familiar with border warfare, the 
 expedition in hand was adapted to the highest qualities of his 
 genius. Yet he accepted the command with reluctance. Before 
 his tender farewell to his family, the prudent father made 
 his will. 
 
 His associate officers were the very flower of the border. 
 Among them was David Williamson, second in command ; John 
 McClelland, field major ; Dr. John Knight, surgeon ; John 
 Slover, Jonathan Zane, of whom we have heard before, guides 
 of the expedition ; and an officer of the regular army, who gave 
 his name as John Rose, who volunteered for the purpose of act 
 ing as aid-de-camp to the commanding officer. 
 
56 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Concerning this latter gentleman more will be said hereafter. 
 For the present it is sufficient to say that, early in the Revolu 
 tion, he had applied to the American army for a commission. 
 Though fine looking, of elegant manners, and, as was supected, 
 of noble birth, speaking the French language, and highly gifted, 
 his request was refused. He had studied medicine, he said, and 
 sympathizing with the colonists, had left the Old World, against 
 the protest of his friends, to join his fortunes with theirs. Upon 
 the details of his history and life, the young stranger preserve^ 
 the most profound silence. He had, at last, received a commis 
 sion as surgeon; but, after two or three years of service, discov 
 ering a jealousy on the part of some young American officers, 
 he had resigned. In spite of the mystery that surrounded him, 
 he was a great favorite. It was not long before the wild bor 
 derers, assembled at Mingo Bottom, absolutely idolized the 
 young officer, who volunteered from lack of other service. 
 
 On the 25th of May the expedition set out for Sandusky, 
 one hundred and fifty miles away. Though not an Indian had 
 been seen, the greatest precautions were taken against ambus 
 cades and surprises. Their route led them through the deso 
 late and fire-blasted -settlements of the Moravians on the 
 Muskingum. 
 
 David Williamson, the officer second in command of the 
 expedition, was familiar with this spot. He it was who had 
 commanded the gang of murderers, by whose bloody hands the 
 inncocent Moravian Indians had been put to death. Yet, when 
 he found himself once more near the scene of this appalling 
 massacre, there is no record, no evidence that his heart was 
 moved with one sensation of regret, with a single throb of pity. 
 Such is the brutalizing influence of war upon the warrior. 
 
 The march was designed to be hasty. The plan was to 
 surprise the savages. Day after day they advanced, without 
 finding the print of a single moccasin or hearing the crack of a 
 single hostile rifle. It was not the advance of an army with 
 banners, to the music of the fife and drum. It was the insidious 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 55T 
 
 movement, swift and silent, of a mighty serpent, winding 
 stealthily through the sunless forests toward the unsuspecting 
 towns of the Indians. Now and then an incident happened 
 which attracted the attention of the men. Some of the volun 
 teers lost their horses, and were compelled to return to the 
 settlements. This the borderers regarded as a bad sign. 
 " Perhaps the rest of us will not go back at all !" said one of 
 the men. 
 
 On another day, a fox got into the lines. The men at once 
 surrounded it on all sides, but in spite of their utmost efforts to 
 capture it, the animal escaped. In every considerable company 
 of men there will be some who are positively and blindly 
 superstitious. In addition to these there will be a larger num 
 ber of credulous and talkative persons who, when informed 
 that a certain thing is an omen or sign, at once take it up as a 
 matter of fact. So it came to be whispered through the camp 
 that the escape of the fox was a bad omen. "If the whole 
 army," said they, "is unable to kill a fox, under such circum 
 stances, what success can be expected against Indians ?" 
 
 The army at last emerged from the forests, which they had 
 traversed, into the rolling prairies of Ohio. " To most of the 
 volunteers," says the historian of this expedition, "the sight 
 of the plains was a novel one. The high, coarse grass, the 
 islands of timber, the gradually undulating surface, were all 
 objects of surprise. Birds of strange plumage flew over them, 
 prairie hens rose before them, sailing away and slowly dropping 
 into the grass on either hand. Sand-hill cranes blew their shrill 
 pipes, startled by the sudden apparition. Prairie owls, on cum 
 brous wings, fluttered away in the distance, and the noisy bit 
 tern was heard along the streamlets. Wild geese were fright 
 ened from their nests, and, occasionally, in widening circles far 
 above them, soared the imperial eagle." 
 
 At length the destination of the expedition, into which the 
 entire western border had concentrated its energy and valor, 
 was almost reached. On the morning of the 4th of June the 
 
558 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 men were awake and ready for the march before the brightness 
 of the sunrise had illuminated the landscape. Throughout the 
 whole camp there was a bustle of unusual excitement. Through 
 their long march scarcely an Indian had been seen. The men 
 felt themselves to be approaching a crisis. Their nerves were 
 strung at the highest tension. Guns were examined, and fresh 
 charges put in. Packs were readjusted, and saddle girths care 
 fully tightened. The army were encamped near the site of the 
 present village of Wyandot in the county of that name in the 
 State of Ohio. 
 
 The march was begun just as the flaming disk of day 
 appeared above the horizon. The direction taken was nearly 
 north-west. Six miles' travel brought them to the mouth of 
 the Little Sandusky. The spot was a familiar one to Slover. 
 He had been taken captive by the Miami Indians when only 
 eight years of age, spending the next six years of his life with 
 that tribe. 
 
 Three Indian trails led from the spot of which we are now 
 speaking. One south-east, through the Plains, to Owl Creek, 
 now the Yernon River, leading thence to Walhomding. This 
 was the route taken by the Moravian missionaries and their 
 converts at the time of their exile from the settlements on the 
 Muskingum to the barren plains of Sandusky. A second trail 
 led to the south, up the east side of the Little Sandusky. The 
 third ran to the south-west, toward the Shawanese town upon 
 Mad River. Besides these, there was also a fourth trace, lead 
 ing north along the east side of the river, through the woods. 
 
 This latter was the one which Crawford took. The army 
 moved cautiously, for Slover assured Crawford that the Wyan 
 dot town was near at hand. Following the turn of the river, 
 the army marched rapidly in a westerly direction. There was 
 an opening in the woods, towards which the men pressed on 
 eagerly. Just before them lay the Wyandot town, the goal of 
 the expedition. 
 
 Yet, though a hostile army was now within full view of 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 559 
 
 the place, there was no sign of life in the village. The shrill 
 war-cry, the screams of the squaws, the barking of the dogs, 
 were all wanting. Were the inhabitants of the place asleep, or 
 was the village enchanted ? As the invaders drew nearer, they 
 found, to their surprise, that the Wyandot town was without 
 an inhabitant. All was a solitude. The empty huts were silent 
 and deserted. Grass was growing in the doorways. The ashes 
 of the camp-fires seemed to have been beaten by many a rain 
 since the hot coals had glowed in their midst. 
 
 The army was astonished. Some mistake had been made. 
 Where, then, was Sandusky, the principal town of the Wyan- 
 dots, to attack which the volunteers had traveled one hundred 
 and sixty miles ? A halt was called. It was one o'clock in the 
 afternoon, the officers of the army were hastily called together 
 for a council of war, to consider the strange aspect of affairs. 
 
 Leaving the officers of the volunteer army in anxious con 
 sultation, let us briefly sketch the state of affairs among the 
 Indians. The reverses experienced by them early in the year, 
 together with the Gnadenhutten massacre, had roused the 
 Indians to the highest activity and watchfulness. Every white 
 settlement on the frontier was placed under the surveillance of 
 invisible spies. When the cabins of the pioneers began to be 
 pervaded by an unusual stir in preparation for the expedition 
 against Sandusky, fleet runners, unbeknown to the white -men, 
 bore the startling news to the villages of their tribes. 
 
 When the assemblage of volunteers took place at Mingo 
 Bottom, every movement was observed ' by subtle scouts, and 
 the tidings reported to their chiefs. That a great expedition 
 was forming was evident. Its destination, however, was 
 unknown. In every forest through which the army had passed 
 lurked unseen savages, watching their course. Meanwhile, run 
 ners were dispatched to every village, bearing the news that the 
 Indians must concentrate all their forces to successfully resist 
 this invasion. Messengers were also dispatched to Detroit, 
 begging the British commandant to send instant and powerful 
 
560 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 aid to his Indian allies. The old Wyandot town had been 
 deserted some time before this. Its people had removed to a 
 point on the river eight miles below the old town. Its location 
 was five miles below the present town of Upper Sandusky, just 
 where the Kilbourne road crosses the river. 
 
 That the destination of Crawford and his men was to be the 
 Sandusky towns seemed clear to the Indians. In this they 
 were confirmed by Crawford's encampment on the night of the 
 3d of June. Eighteen miles down the river from that camp 
 was the chief Wyandot town, where the warriors were prepared 
 to march at any instant. Eleven miles in another direction 
 stood the village of Captain Pipe, the war chief of the Dela-* 
 wares. Here, too, the savages stood all night long plumed and 
 ready for battle. 
 
 On the morning -of the 4th of June the Delaware war-chief 
 moved forward with his two hundred braves to an appointed 
 rendezvous with the Wyandot braves. From the village of the 
 latter the squaws and children were carefully removed and con 
 cealed in a deep ravine. The traders in the town hastily packed 
 their goods and started for Detroit. 
 
 Besides the Wyandots, whose numbers exceeded those of 
 the Delawares, the combined forces of which already surpassed 
 the volunteer army, there was also moving to the Indian ren 
 dezvous, two other re-enforcements. From the Shawanese town, 
 forty miles away, were coming two hundred braves of that tribe. 
 They were not expected to arrive until the next day. From 
 the north was coming powerful succor of a different sort. The 
 commandant of Detroit had dispatched to the scene of action 
 Butler's Mounted Rangers, with three pieces of artillery. 
 
 It was impossible for this re-enforcement to reach the ren 
 dezvous before the 5th of June. Far in advance of the Rangers, 
 however, mounted on the swiftest horse in the company, rode 
 Matthew Elliott at the top of his speed. He it was who was 
 to have command of all the allied forces. He reached his com 
 mand about noon of the fourth. Second in command to him was 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 561 
 
 his fellow-ruffian and Tory, Simon Girty. Such were the prep 
 arations made for the destruction of Crawford's army. 
 
 The council of war, held on the site of the deserted Wyan- 
 dot town, resulted in an advance in search of the real Sandusky, 
 which Slover rightly believed to be eight miles farther down the 
 river. The army had proceeded some three or four miles when 
 some of the men expressed an earnest desire to return home, 
 for the reason that there remained only five days' provisions. 
 Crawford again called a halt. His officers were at once sum 
 moned for another council. Jonathan Zane urged an immediate 
 retreat. He was of the opinion that the Indians would in the 
 end bring an overwhelming force against them. The failure to 
 discover any Indians as yet convinced him that they were con 
 centrated at some point not far away for a determined resist 
 ance. In this view Crawford coincided. It was, however, at 
 last, resolved to continue the advance during the afternoon, and, 
 in case of continued failure to meet the enemy, that a retreat 
 should be commenced during the night. 
 
 In front of the army rode a party of scouts. The country 
 was rolling prairie, flecked with island-groves of thickly growing 
 trees. At one of these green oases the scouts reined in their 
 panting horses. One mile to the east of them lay the Sandusky 
 River, its winding course marked out upon the landscape by a 
 fringe of forest trees. Midway between the grove and the river 
 ran the trail leading to the Wyandot town. South-west of the 
 grove, not very far off, was a cranberry marsh, impassable to horse 
 men. This swamp the scouts had passed without discovering it. 
 After a few moments' pause, this advance guard put spurs to their 
 horses, and galloped on over the prairie. Having left the grove 
 about a mile to the rear, the scouts suddenly discovered a large 
 body of Indians running directly toward them they were in 
 sight of the Indian rendezvous. One of their number, riding 
 their fleetest horse, at once galloped back to inform Crawford 
 of the enemy's whereabouts. The rest retired slowly as the 
 savages advanced. 
 
 31 
 
562 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Just as the Americans had finished their council of war the 
 breathless scout dashed in, bearing the news of the discovery 
 of the Indians. In a moment the lagging army took fire with 
 enthusiasm, and started forward at the top of their speed. They 
 found that the Indians had already reached the island grove 
 and taken possession of it. Crawford's military eye at once 
 discerned this to be a strategic point. By a rapid charge the 
 Indians were driven, and the Americans, in turn, took posses 
 sion of the cover. 
 
 The firing began at four o'clock in the afternoon. The 
 Indians, led by Elliott and Girty, were concealed by the thick, 
 high grass of the open prairie. They would creep forward, 
 unseen, close to the trees, and fire upon the Americans from 
 their concealment. Some of the borderers climbed the trees, 
 and from their bushy tops took deadly aim at the heads of the 
 enemy moving about in the grass. Great execution was done 
 in this way. One man said afterward, "I do not know how 
 many Indians I killed, but I never saw the same head again 
 above the grass after I shot at it." The battle raged with 
 fury. Every tree and log in the grove blazed with the inces 
 sant flashes of the American rifles. Not a foe was visible on 
 either side. Yet every point in the surrounding prairie gave 
 forth continuous explosions, and, over all floated a bank of 
 white smoke. 
 
 The afternoon was exceedingly sultry. Not a breath of air 
 was stirring. The river was a mile away. No spring or stream 
 of water was to be found in the grove. The soldiers were 
 attacked by the intolerable torment of thirst. In this emer 
 gency one of the men, John Sherrard, distinguished himself. 
 In the excitement of the conflict he had rendered his gun use 
 less by ramming a ball into the barrel without having put in a 
 charge of powder. He said " I will not be idle." He went in 
 search of water. He found a place where a tree had been torn 
 up by the roots. In the cavity left in the ground had collected 
 a pool of stagnant water. Pushing aside the green scum, he 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 563 
 
 filled his canteen and hat, and ran to carry the water to his 
 thirsty comrades. During the afternoon he made twenty trips 
 of this kind. 
 
 For a while the issue of the battle was doubtful. Toward 
 sunset the fire of the savages weakened. Their caution about 
 exposure increased. They had evidently suffered. At dark 
 they had withdrawn beyond the range of the American rifles. 
 The Americans, being left in possession of the field, were the 
 victors. To guard against a night surprise, each party resorted 
 to the same device. They built a line of huge camp-fires, and 
 then fell back from them for some distance. By this means any 
 approaching foe would be revealed. The loss of the American 
 army was five killed and nineteen wounded. The battle-field 
 was three miles north, and half a mile east of the spot now 
 occupied by the court-house in Upper Sandusky. 
 
 At sunrise on the beautiful morning of the 5th of June, occa 
 sional shots at long range began to be exchanged between the 
 contending forces. As the day advanced the enemy's firing con 
 tinued to be slack and irregular. As to the cause of this feeble 
 ness the Americans were fatally mistaken. They regarded it as 
 an indication of depression occasioned by the defeat of the pre 
 vious day. In fact, however, the Wyandots and Delawares 
 were abundantly satisfied with simply being able to hold the 
 Americans in check until the arrival of the band of braves from 
 the Shawanese village, and of the redoubtable Butler's Rangers. 
 Every hour brought these re-enforcements, of which the Ameri 
 cans were totally ignorant, nearer to the field of battle. 
 
 Crawford would gladly have attacked the foe early in the day, 
 but the volunteers seemed in a poor condition for the undertak 
 ing. Many of the men were sick from the fatigues of the march. 
 Others were suffering from the combined effects of the heat and 
 of the poisonous water which they had been compelled to drink. 
 Besides these there were nineteen wounded. Fifteen or twenty 
 more were required to nurse the sick. These subtractions from 
 the little army so weakened its strength for the time being that 
 
564 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 it was thought best to withhold the attack until nightfall. The 
 morning was spent in comparative repose. The volunteers were 
 confident of an easy victory. The men lay in the shade, already 
 chatting gayly of the success of the expedition. Some even 
 talked of the welcome they would receive on their return. A 
 change, however, was to come over the spirit of the idlers in the 
 grove. 
 
 An hour or two after noon a sentinel stationed in a copse 
 north-east of the grove discovered a small speck at a great dis 
 tance in the prairie. As his eager eye watched the apparition 
 it grew larger. A few moments later he perceived it to be a 
 body of mounted men. Pausing yet a moment, it became plain 
 that these troops were white men. The sentinel stood no longer, 
 but dashed toward his commander with information of the dis 
 covery. The grove at once became the scene of animation and 
 excitement. The loungers sprang from their mossy couches and 
 buckled on their fierce equipment for battle. Horses were sad 
 dled, the wounded were carried to the rear. While the volun 
 teers were thus making their active preparations for a battle, 
 the officers were grouped in a hurried council of war. The no 
 tion of an attack was at once abandoned, in the presence of the 
 civilized foe. A defensive policy was all that remained. It was 
 no longer a question of the destruction of the Indian towns ; it- 
 was a question of the destruction of the army. 
 
 While deliberating upon the critical situation, another scout 
 came running in with the news of the approach of other re-en 
 forcements to the enemy. The officers looked with anxious gaze 
 in the direction indicated; there they beheld, in full career over 
 the open prairie, the painted warriors of the Shawanese, with 
 fluttering plumes and fantastic decorations, coming to the help 
 of their brethren. 
 
 Let us take a survey of the situation. Crawford and his 
 men were still encamped in the small grove. To the north of 
 them, in the direction of their town, were encamped the Wyan- 
 dots, supported by the newly arrived Butler's Rangers. To the 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 565 
 
 south of the grove, and a little to the west of the trail along 
 which the army had come, were posted the Dela wares. This 
 position they had assumed during the battle of the previous day. 
 Posted as they were, in the rear of Crawford, they endangered 
 his . retreat. The Shawanese, as if by previous arrangement, 
 encamped to the south-east of the grove. The trail along which 
 the army must pass in case of retreat was thus made to run be 
 tween the two camps of the Shawanese and the Dela wares a 
 maneuver of great skill. 
 
 As the council of war continued, small squads of Indians 
 were discovered pouring in from all quarters as re-enforcements. 
 But one course was open to the Americans. That was retreat. 
 Orders were given for a retrograde movement, to commence at 
 nine o'clock that night. The dead were buried. For the seven 
 dangerously wounded, litters were made. The army was to 
 march in four divisions, keeping the wounded in the center. 
 As soon as it was dark the sentinels were called in, and the 
 body formed for the march, with Crawford at the head. 
 
 At the moment of starting, the enemy, having discovered 
 the intentions of the Americans, opened a hot fire. Some of 
 the men became alarmed. The arrangements for a regular 
 retreat were, in the excitement and panic of the moment, for 
 gotten. The men in the foremost ranks started to run, and, the 
 example being contagious, the whole army was soon in full 
 flight. The seven men in the litters were left behind. Of 
 these, five were helped upon comrades' horses. Two unfortu 
 nate men were left to the insatiate vengeance of the savages. 
 The first division, under Major McClelland, was soon engaged 
 with the Delawares and Shawanese. McClelland fell from his 
 horse, dangerously wounded, at the first fire. Calling to John 
 Orr, who was on foot, the wounded captain bade the man 
 take his horse, and make his escape, which he did. In the 
 darkness and confusion McClelland was believed by the few 
 who saw him fall, either to have been killed outright, or 
 to have been trampled to death under the hoofs of the 
 
566 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 oncoming horses. In fact, he was reserved for a more dread 
 ful fate. 
 
 The enemy, on their part, fearful lest Crawford's movements 
 formed some kind of maneuver, and not a flight, hesitated in 
 their pursuit. Meanwhile, the rear divisions, seeing McClel- 
 land's party furiously attacked by the Delawares, bore off to the 
 south-west to avoid the Indians, leaving their struggling com 
 panions to their left. At an earlier point in the narrative men 
 tion has been made of a vast cranberry swamp, lying west of 
 the trail followed by the army in its advance. Into this swamp, 
 owing to the darkness, some of the Americans unfortunately 
 blundered. Many of the men were compelled to leave their 
 horses hopelessly mired in the bog. To add to their danger, 
 the Americans were attacked in the rear by the enemy, suffer 
 ing considerable loss. The remainder skirted the morass on 
 the west, clear around, to a point nearly opposite that of their 
 entrance to the swamp. 
 
 A little before daylight they again found themselves on the 
 trail, having, in their march, described a half circle around the 
 swamp, of which the center was the present town of Upper 
 Sandusky. The men of McClelland's division had fought their 
 way along the diameter of the circle, and, in a badly demoral 
 ized condition, reunited with their friends at the deserted Wy- 
 andot village. At this point a halt was made. Straggling 
 parties came up with the others, until nearly three hundred of 
 the volunters were once more together. 
 
 An investigation was made, to find who were missing. To 
 the great sorrow of the entire army, Colonel Crawford was 
 nowhere to be found. Nothing was known of him. Whether 
 killed, captured, or escaped was a matter of conjecture. Dr. 
 John Knight and John Slover, together with the brave McClel 
 land, were also missing. The command of the army now 
 devolved upon Williamson, who, seconded by the brilliant mili 
 tary genius of Rose, made the most powerful exertions to rally 
 the broken army for a regular retreat. 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 567 
 
 Even in the midst of such tragic scenes as these occur inci 
 dents calculated to provoke a smile. One of the volunteers 
 discovered a brass kettle, left in a deserted Indian sugar-camp. 
 In spite of his peril, the prize was too great for his prudence. 
 He dismounted from his horse, seized a huge bowlder, and 
 pounded the utensil flat for transportation. Through all the 
 exciting scenes of the retreat, this article kept its place on 
 Vance's saddle. 
 
 John Sherrard, the man who had carried water to his com 
 rades during the battle, had, in the confusion of the flight from 
 the grove, become separated from his companions. In company 
 with Daniel Harbaugh, he followed the track of the army as 
 best he could. Riding through the forest soon after sunrise on 
 the 6th, Harbaugh, less agile than his companion, was shot by 
 an Indian. Sherrard, sickened at the death of his companion, 
 nevertheless removed the saddle and bridle from the dead man's 
 horse and substituted them for his own, which were inferior. 
 He had proceeded but a short distance, when he recklessly 
 resolved to return for a pack of provisions which he had left 
 tied to his own saddle. Securing this, he resumed his journey, 
 and overtook the retreating army. 
 
 At two o'clock in the afternoon of the 6th of June, the 
 retreating army, by that time somewhat rallied from the demor 
 alization of the night, were attacked from the rear by a large 
 force of the enemy. The volunteers succeeded in beating off the 
 foe, an achievement in which they were aided by a terrible 
 thunder-storm which broke over the combatants. When the 
 rain ceased the foe renewed the attack, and at night the two 
 armies slept within sight of each other. In the morning shots 
 were again exchanged near the spot where the village of Crest 
 line now stands. Thenceforth the retreat of the broken and 
 dispirited army was continued without interruption. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that the volunteers all reached home 
 at once. For days they continued to straggle back. Some of 
 the men became completely bewildered. Nicholas Dawson had 
 
568 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 become separated from his companions, and was endeavoring to 
 make his way home when he was discovered by two other vol 
 unteers. Dawson at that time was traveling in exactly the wrong 
 direction, going back toward Sandusky. The men attempted to 
 convince him of his error, but he pertinaciously insisted that he 
 was right. At last the men told him that he would certainly 
 be captured by the savages and tortured to death if he pro 
 ceeded in his present course, and that as it would be better for 
 him to die from a painless and sudden gun-shot wound than 
 from the merciless barbarities of the savages, they would kill 
 him out of friendship. This argument proved successful. Daw- 
 son turned about reluctantly, and, with the others, reached home 
 in safety. 
 
 Philip Smith and a young man named Rankin had also 
 become separated from the army, owing to the loss of their 
 horses. They had their guns, but were afraid to use them to 
 procure game for fear of attracting the attention of the Indians. 
 By chance they came across an Indian pony, which Smith under 
 took to dispatch with his tomahawk. The animal, however, 
 proved to be an expert dodger. Rankin at last blindfolded it, 
 and thus enabled Smith to deal a fatal blow. On the flesh of 
 the pony they subsisted for some time. 
 
 On the third night of their retreat two volunteers on horses 
 fell in with them. While proceeding along the banks of a stream 
 they were ambuscaded by four savages. Smith was in the act 
 of stooping to get a drink from the river. The two men on 
 horseback were shot dead. Smith seized a gun and ran up the 
 bank after his .companion, Rankin, who had also taken to flight. 
 The latter mistook Smith for a enemy, and three times attempted 
 to shoot him. He succeeded, however, in dodging, until he came 
 near enough to be recognized. Escaping from these Indians, 
 the wanderers came upon a camp, evidently just deserted. A 
 white man, freshly scalped, lay on the ground. As they looked 
 at him, he took his hand and rubbed his bloody head. He had 
 been scalped while alive, but, of course, death was near. Over 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 569 
 
 the camp fire hung a pot of boiling hominy. This the famished 
 wanderers feared to eat lest it should be poisoned. They, at 
 last, reached home naked, footsore, and famished. To acquaint 
 ances they were unrecognizable. The loved ones of their fam 
 ilies, however, knew the wanderers at once. 
 
 Many were the cabins of the frontier in which were weep 
 ing of women and wailing of children for the brave ones which 
 returned not. Sherrard made his home with the widowed 
 mother of James Paull, who had also accompanied the expe 
 dition. Concerning her boy nothing could be learned. At the 
 moment of retreat from the grove, Sherrard noticed that the 
 young man was sound asleep. He gave the sleeper a shake, 
 and shouted, " Up, James ! let 's be off. They 're all starting, 
 and we '11' be left." He had seen the young man spring to his 
 feet, but at that moment lost sight of him in the darkness, and 
 of his fate could tell nothing. The poor widow bore her 
 mighty sorrow alone, and never ceased to look for the return 
 of her boy. 
 
 Sherrard had another distressing scene to go through with. 
 As soon as he had obtained a little rest, he started to return 
 the pack-saddle of Daniel Harbaugh, which he had taken from 
 his dead companion's horse, to his widow. The story \ of her 
 husband's death was heart-breaking to the sorrowing woman. 
 She, however, knew that he was dead. Though stricken with 
 grief she was not doomed to be haunted forever after by a fear 
 ful uncertainty. 
 
 Among those who could learn nothing definite concerning 
 their loved relatives, was Hannah Crawford, wife of the colonel 
 in command of the expedition. For a long time she suffered 
 from hope deferred until the heart grew sick indeed. When at 
 last she heard the awful truth, which will be hereafter related 
 in these pages, she was of all the sorrowing ones of the stricken 
 frontier the most to be commiserated. 
 
 As has been stated, to the genius and exertions of John 
 Rose, aid-de-camp to Colonel Crawford, more than to any thing 
 
570 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 else was due the fact that so many of the expedition escaped 
 destruction. Without detailing his further splendid services to 
 the colonies, we here give his own explanation of the mystery 
 which surrounded him. Just before leaving America, he wrote 
 to his friend, General Irvine, his true history. His name, he 
 said, was not John Rose, but Gustavus H. de Rosenthal, of Lav- 
 onia, Russia, a baron of the empire. He had had a duel, 
 brought on by a blow inflicted by his enemy upon an aged 
 uncle. In the encounter, which took place in an apartment in 
 the royal palace at St. Petersburg, he had killed his antagonist. 
 He at once fled to America to draw his sword in behalf of the 
 colonies. At the close of the Revolution he received from the 
 emperor a pardon, as a result of which he returned to his 
 native land. 
 
 It yet remains for us to detail the remarkable adventures, or 
 perchance the tragic doom, of those men who, either at the 
 moment of retreat from the grove, or subsequently in the con 
 fusion and entanglement in the cranberry marsh, became at once 
 separated from their companions and found themselves alone in 
 the midst of an enemy's country, separated from the nearest 
 white settlement by a wilderness one hundred and sixty miles 
 in width, infested by swarms of hostile Indians, who were 
 certain to scour the woods in every direction in search of strag 
 glers from the retreating and broken army. 
 
 Among those who had the misfortune to lose their horses in 
 the mire of the cranberry marsh were John Slover, the guide, 
 and James Paull. These, with five others, being pursued by 
 savages, fled in a northerly direction. After pursuing this 
 course all night they turned, for some unaccountable reason, 
 toward the south-west. About ten o'clock in the forenoon they 
 halted to eat. Each man had a scrap of pork. From this they 
 proposed to make a sumptuous breakfast. 
 
 Hardly had the poor fellows seated themselves on the 
 ground when a file of Indian warriors was discovered coming 
 along a neighboring trail which the volunteers had not observed. 
 
THE DOOM OF CRA WFORD. 571 
 
 The latter ran off, leaving their baggage and provisions, but 
 were not discovered. Their loss of provisions, scanty though 
 the supply was, was a most serious mishap. At last they 
 resolved to return and secure them, which was accomplished 
 successfully. At twelve o'clock they perceived another party 
 of Indians approaching, but by skulking in the grass and bushes 
 of the prairie, they again escaped discovery. 
 
 The progress of the party was slow, one of the men having 
 burnt his foot, and the other being attacked with rheumatism, 
 contracted from exposure to the rain storm which has been pre 
 viously mentioned. When at last they struck woodland, they 
 turned due east in their line of march. On the 7th of June, 
 the man with the rheumatism was left behind in a swamp. 
 " Waiting for him some time," says Slover, in his narrative, " I 
 saw him coming within one hundred yards, as I sat on the body 
 of an old tree mending my moccasins ; but taking my eye from 
 him I saw him no more. He had not observed our tracks, but 
 had gone a different way. We whistled on our chargers, and 
 afterwards halloed for him, but in vain." This man afterwards 
 reached his home in safety. The terrible adventures which he 
 escaped by thus missing his way will be hereafter related. 
 
 The man with the burned foot was James Paull. On the 
 afternoon of the 5th, in making their hurried preparations for 
 retreat, he, with many others, was engaged in baking bread. In 
 this task some of the men, for want of a better baking-pan, 
 made use of a spade which had been picked up in the deso 
 lated settlement of the Moravians. When the last loaf had 
 been turned out, the hot spade was thrown down, and Paull 
 had stepped on it with his bare foot, burning himself badly. 
 
 Passing through what is now Wayne county, about nine 
 o'clock on the 8th of June, the party was ambuscaded by a 
 band of Shawanese. With tireless pertinacity, these red detec 
 tives of the wilderness had all the while been on the trail of 
 the fugitives. Two of the white men were shot dead. Paull, 
 notwithstanding his burnt foot, ran for his life, and escaped. 
 
572 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Slover and the other two men were taken captives. By a 
 remarkable coincidence, one of the captors had been in the party 
 which had captured Slover in the mountains of Virginia when 
 but a boy. The Indian, however, had nothing but curses for 
 his old acquaintance. Sick at heart, the three prisoners started 
 for the Shawanese towns, on Mad River, in what is now Logan 
 county, Ohio. 
 
 On the third day after their capture they came in sight of 
 a small Indian village. Slover had hoped that his old captor 
 might treat him with some clemency. On his entrance to the 
 village this hope was dashed in pieces. The inhabitants of the 
 place, crazy with joy over the great victory at Sandusky, were 
 delighted to find that the fun was not yet over. They at once 
 began the enjoyment of abusing the captives. The three white 
 men were beaten with clubs, chastised with lashes, and buf 
 feted by the vile mob from one side of the village to the other. 
 
 This treatment was not the most ominous circumstance. 
 The rabble seized one of Slover's companions, the oldest man 
 in the party, and stripped him naked. Two of them at once 
 began the task of painting the unfortunate man black. As the 
 artists progressed with their work a dense throng of hideous 
 squaws and screaming children surrounded them, watching 
 every stroke of the brush with intense interest. The captive, 
 alarmed at the proceeding, began to surmise that it was an indi 
 cation that he was to be burnt. He broke down in tears, and 
 called to Slover, asking him what it meant. With devilish 
 temper, the Indians warned Slover not to tell the man any thing. 
 
 The three men were next told that they were to run the 
 gauntlet to the council-house, which was about a thousand feet 
 away. Foremost in the dreadful race ran the man who had 
 been painted black. Upon him were concentrated the chief 
 efforts of the savages. Many fired powder into his flesh as he 
 passed them. Stunned, bruised, and bleeding from the assaults 
 of his enemies, the poor man was unable to reach the goal as 
 soon as Slover and his companion. When he did so, his body 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 
 
 573 
 
 had been gashed in a dozen places with tomahawks. Here and 
 there large holes had been burnt in the flesh. A gun wad, 
 
 SLOVER'S COMPANION RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 
 
 fired into his neck, had inflicted a painful wound, from which 
 the blood streamed in large quantities. 
 
 Shattered as he was, through exertions nerved by despair 
 
574 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 itself, he reached the council-house. Exultant with hope, he 
 stretched out his hand to lay hold of the door. But for him 
 there was no rest, no mercy. While his hand was still extended 
 in the belief that he had secured ' temporary safety, a dozen 
 slimy hands jerked him back from the door, whose refuge 
 mocked him. Again and again, he fought to tear himself loose 
 from their grasp. But a few steps would he run, till again he 
 was seized and hurled back. 
 
 Though growing weaker at every moment, and frantic with 
 despair, the instinct of self-preservation still remained to him, 
 and he sought to wrest from his tormentors a club or toma 
 hawk. Perceiving his purpose, the savages would hold out to 
 him their weapons, and then, as his eager fingers were about to 
 clutch the object, would snatch it away with hideous laugh 
 ter, and deal the wretch another blow. Sometimes they would 
 allow him to run from them a considerable distance, only to 
 make his recapture the occasion for a pretended punishment 
 and renewed beatings. 
 
 There is a limit to human endurance. There is a point, 
 beyond which the will, electric, exalted, sublime, can no longer 
 sustain one. That point was reached. The captive fell to the 
 ground. As the showers of blows were rained upon him, he 
 no longer fought back with the ferocity of a tiger and the cour 
 age of a madman. He only feebly tried to screen his face and 
 head with his lacerated arms. At last even this frail defense 
 gave way. The blows of the club and the tomahawk fell upon 
 the body of the prostrate man, and met with neither resistance 
 nor retaliation. Now and then a sob, a gasp, a quiver was to 
 be heard escaping from his lips. Finally, even these last, faint 
 flutterings of life disappeared. The spirit had departed, leav 
 ing the shapeless mass, which had been its splendid home, to 
 be tossed by cruel hands to hungry dogs. 
 
 That evening Slover, with an anguish in his heart which no 
 pen can describe, looked on not only this scene, but also on 
 three other black and mangled bodies. As they lay in all their 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 575 
 
 mutilation, the scout could recognize in one the remains of 
 William Harrison, the son-in-law of Colonel Crawford. Remov 
 ing his eye to the second corpse, he saw in it young William 
 Crawford, the youthful nephew of the commander. The third 
 corpse was that of Major John McClelland. These three 
 brave men had furnished a gorge of infernal revelry for the 
 beastly savages. The heads and limbs were impaled on lofty 
 poles in the center of the town. The trunks became food 
 for dogs. 
 
 Harrison was one of the most noted men in the Ohio valley. 
 He was a lawyer of polished education and lofty intellect. He 
 had rendered distinguished services to the colonies. 
 
 The surviving companion of Slover was shortly sent away 
 to another town. Of his fate we have no account. There is no 
 reason to suppose that it was different from that of the brave 
 men which we have described. That night a great council was 
 held in the village. Slover was placed in the center of the room, 
 and there subjected to every question which the Indian intellect 
 could invent. 
 
 The council lasted fifteen days. In it were represented a 
 dozen different tribes. Here in this assembly all the pride, all 
 the exultation, all the savage joy to which the destruction of 
 Crawford's army had given rise found expression. No rhetoric 
 was bombastic enough for the vanity of the orators ; no con 
 gratulations were complimentary enough for the pride of the 
 warriors. 
 
 In the midst of the council was received a message from the 
 commandant at Detroit. Of this communication the key-note 
 was clear to the dullest ear. It bade the Indians to take no 
 more prisoners. The exhortation was received with a mighty 
 uproar of applause. The council resolved to follow the advice. 
 Henceforth they were to take no more prisoners, but kill outright 
 every unfortunate who fell into their hands. This was not all. 
 In the enthusiasm of the moment they determined that if any 
 tribe not represented at the council took any captives, the others 
 
576 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 would go upon the war-path, take away the captives, and put 
 them to death. 
 
 During these days Slover suffered more from the villainous 
 white men in the village, who were continually instigating the 
 savage mind to cruelty, than from the Indians themselves. .Simon 
 Girty was there. This abominable liar almost drove the inhab 
 itants of the place insane by telling them that he had asked 
 Slover how he liked to live there, and that he had answered 
 that he intended at the first opportunity to take a scalp and 
 escape. 
 
 Another white man came to him and told him that his home 
 had been in Virginia ; that he had three brothers there, and 
 wanted to get away. Slover was too ol.d a scout to say any 
 thing to the treacherous villain. This prudence, however, did 
 not save him. The fellow went off and reported in the village 
 that Slover had consented to go with him. 
 
 There was another white man in the place. He lived two 
 miles from the town, in a house built of squared logs, with a 
 shingle roof. He dressed in a gorgeous uniform of gold-laced 
 clothes. He spoke but little in the council. When he did it 
 had a marked effect. He did not question Slover, but during 
 all the time he seemed to be oblivious of the latter's presence 
 in the town. He never spoke to him. This man was in the 
 employ of the British Government. He was the counterpart of 
 Girty and Elliott. His name was Alexander McKee. 
 
 On the morning after the close of the council Slover was 
 sitting before the door of the cabin where he had been kept. 
 A file of forty Indian warriors suddenly came up and surrounded 
 the cabin. Their captain was a white man. It was George 
 Girty, a brother of Simon. These Indians took Slover, and put 
 a rope around his neck. They stripped him naked. His arms 
 were bound behind him, and he was painted black from head to 
 foot. During this operation Girty stood before him, hurling at 
 him a storm of curses. Slover was then taken to a town five 
 miles away. Being a stranger, the inhabitants of the place had 
 

 THE DOOM OF CRA WFORD. 577 
 
 prepared a reception for him. The emblem of their hospitality 
 was the war club ; their method of expressing it was falling upon 
 Slover, and beating him half to death. 
 
 Two miles away was another town. It was not far from the 
 site of what is now West Liberty, Logan County, Ohio. Only 
 one-half of the council house had a roof. Slover noticed this. 
 In the center of that part of the structure which had no cover 
 ing was a huge post, sixteen feet in height. About four feet 
 from the post were three large piles of firewood. Slover was 
 taken to the post. One rope was passed around his neck, another 
 about his waist, and a third about his feet. These were tightly 
 bound to the post. This done, a large savage, carrying a torch, 
 stuck it into the dry wood, which quickly leaped into flame. 
 
 At this moment a wind began to roar through the forest, 
 swaying the trees in a frightful manner. The dust in the 
 streets of the village was caught up and whirled along in 
 mighty clouds. Terrific thunder-peals seemed to split asunder 
 the sky-dome. The crowd around the stake withdrew their 
 fascinated gaze from the dreadful drama being there enacted, 
 and looked with apprehension at the darkening landscape and 
 the ragged storm-line which was rapidly approaching. Huge 
 drops of rain began to fall. With screams and pushings the 
 crowd scrambled for the sheltered part of the council-house. 
 Here and there an old squaw or an aged warrior stood stolidly 
 where they were, as if to express their contempt for the others, 
 while the floods of water which now descended drenched them 
 to the skin. 
 
 The fire was quickly extinguished. The rain lasted about 
 twenty minutes. When it was over, and the sun reappeared in 
 an azure sky from which the clouds were rapidly clearing, the 
 Indians stood still for some minutes, awe-stricken and silent. 
 
 At last the spell was broken. The crowd before so still 
 became noisy and turbulent. A dispute arose. Some wanted 
 to proceed with the torture, the prevailing part insisted on sav 
 ing the prisoner until the next morning. Slover was untied. 
 
 32 
 
578 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Even though the respite was short, his spirits rose. Making 
 him sit down the Indians began a war dance around him. 
 
 At eleven o'clock at night Half Moon asked Slover if he 
 was sleepy, The captive answered " Yes." Three Indians were 
 appointed for his guard. Taking him to a block-house, they 
 tied his arms around the wrists and above the elbows so tightly 
 that the cord cut deep into the flesh. To his neck was fast 
 ened a rope, the other end of which was tied to a beam in 
 the house. It was long enough to permit him to lie down on 
 a couch, which consisted of a board. 
 
 Slover, overcome with anxiety at the fate prepared for him, 
 waited nervously hour after hour for his guards to go to sleep. 
 But they too, though from different motives, were full of excited 
 interest concerning the festivities of the morrow. Not till an 
 hour before daybreak did they weary in their animated con 
 versation. At that hour two of them lay down and went to 
 sleep. The third copper-colored gentleman came over and ques 
 tioned Slover as to how he would like "eating fire." The pris 
 oner was giving up his last earthly hope for a chance to escape, 
 when to his great joy the third Indian rolled over and began 
 to snore. 
 
 The scout instantly set to work. Turning on his right side 
 he managed little by little, with infinite effort and skill, to slip 
 the cords from his left arm. At that moment his heart sank 
 within him. One of the warriors rose and stirred the fire. 
 Slover expected to have his bonds examined, and thought all 
 was over. But the sleepy savage lay down and again became 
 unconscious. 
 
 There was no time to be lost. It was within a few minutes 
 of daybreak. The people of the village were likely to rise early 
 in preparation for the sports of the day. Some old squaws might 
 already be stirring in the lodges. Slover made frantic efforts 
 to loosen the rope from his neck. He tried to gnaw it, but 
 might as well have bitten a bar of iron as to chew the cursed 
 buffalo hide. He tugged at it till his fingers bled. But all 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 579 
 
 in vain. At last, just at- daybreak, he discovered, to his joy, 
 that it was a slip-knot. He pulled the noose apart, slipped it 
 over his head, lightly stepped over the sleeping warriors, and 
 left the cabin. 
 
 He sped through the town, passing a squaw and five chil 
 dren who were asleep under a tree, and jumped into a cornfield. 
 Here he untied his right arm, which had swollen till it had 
 turned black. Collecting his thoughts, he remembered to have 
 seen some horses on his way to the cornfield. He started back, 
 snatched up an old quilt hanging on a fence, quickly caught one 
 of the horses by the mane, threw the rope, with which he had 
 himself been tied, around the horse's neck for a halter, sprang 
 astride the animal and galloped away. 
 
 His course lay to the north-east. On he dashed, without a 
 pause or a backward look. His horse was strong and swift. 
 He had only the quilt for a saddle, and the rope halter for a 
 bridle. He was entirely naked. As his horse plunged through 
 the forest, the branches of the trees lacerated his bare body 
 until he was covered with blood from head to foot. Yet of this 
 he was unconscious. He felt not the strokes and bruises. He 
 noticed not the torn flesh, nor the flowing blood. He only knew 
 that he was flying, flying from fiends and flames to liberty and 
 life ; flying from torture and the stake to home and friends. 
 Fifty miles away lay the blue Scioto. For his horse he had no 
 mercy, but mindful of the keen and swift pursuers, who were 
 already swarming after him, devising in their hellish hearts new 
 and fearful vengeance, he urged the animal on, hour after hour, 
 at its topmost speed. 
 
 At eleven o'clock in the morning he reached the Scioto. At 
 three o'clock in the afternoon he had left the river twenty-five 
 miles behind him. At this point his horse failed. All its splen 
 did powers had been expended in the noble race. Seventy-five 
 miles had been accomplished in eleven hours. It could go no 
 further. Slover instantly sprang from the animal, and started 
 ahead ruining on foot. 
 
580 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The sun set in the west, but still he ran. Stars came out 
 in the blue canopy of night. It was the hour of repose for all 
 mankind. Yet for the fugitive there was neither rest nor relief. 
 Once he relaxed into a walk. At that moment he heard halloo 
 ing behind him. It may have been the phantom of his fevered 
 imagination, the offspring of a brain heated with surges of boil 
 ing blood. No matter. The fugitive sprang forward as if every 
 tree in the forest was a savage, and every wandering star-beam 
 the glint of a rifle. 
 
 Not until daybreak did Slover resume a walk. In his hand 
 he carried a. crooked stick. Was it a weapon, a means of defense 
 against his pursuers ? No, and yes. No, because it was as 
 worthless as a shadow as a physical weapon. Yes, because by 
 it he carefully replaced the weeds bent by his feet, in order to 
 hide his trail. Once he sat down. 
 
 That moment exhausted nature entered a protest. He vom 
 ited. Feeling somewhat better, he again proceeded. The high 
 excitement of the previous day was no longer present to sus 
 tain him. He became painfully conscious of his wounds. Poi 
 soned nettles irritated his flesh. Thorns and briers stuck in his 
 legs. Swarms of flies hovered about the festering sores. Mill 
 ions of mosquitoes feasted on him, lingering, hurrying, or paus 
 ing with their victim. Sleep was impossible. His only defense 
 was the piece of quilt, and a handful of bushes which he carried. 
 
 On the third day about three o'clock he found some rasp 
 berries. This was the first food he had eaten since the morn 
 ing before his escape. He was not hungry, but extremely weak. 
 Yet he had strength enough to swim the Muskingum at a point 
 where it was two hundred yards wide. On the fourth day h& 
 found two small crawfish, and ate them. The next night he 
 came within five miles of Wheeling. During the whole time he 
 had not slept one moment. When opposite Wheeling he saw a 
 man on the other side of the river, and called to him. The 
 stranger, however, was not disposed to venture over at the bid 
 ding of such a wild and suspicious looking character as Slover. 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 581 
 
 At length, by earnest persuasion, and by naming various 
 persons in the expedition, known to the stranger, the latter 
 came to Slover's help. The trials of the fugitive were over. 
 In a few days he was able to make his way home. Such were 
 the powers of endurance and recuperation of the iron frames of 
 the pioneers. 
 
 Such were Slover's adventures. What had become of James 
 Paull? He, as will be remembered, had made his escape into 
 the woods at the moment of Slover's capture. He was pursued 
 by two Indians. Lamed by his burnt foot, every step gave him 
 intolerable pain. In spite of this he outran his pursuers, seeing 
 which they fired at him. Coming to a steep bank of a creek, 
 he fearlessly leaped over, gun in hand. At this moment the 
 savages lost sight of him, and either abandoned the chase or 
 passed another way. In the descent of the precipice Paull had 
 torn his burnt foot in a horrible manner. To enable him to pro 
 ceed at all he was forced to tear a strip from his ragged panta 
 loons, and bind it around the injured member. 
 
 Paull was an experienced woodsman. To hide his trail he 
 walked on fallen logs, traveled in circles, and, climbing trees, 
 would crawl out to the extremity of their branches, and let him 
 self drop. At night he slept in a hollow log. In the morning 
 the unhappy man found his foot swollen to the size of a 
 water bucket. He had no provisions, and was afraid to fire 
 his gun. Nevertheless, he gathered enough wild berries to sus 
 tain life. 
 
 The second night he crawled into a crevice in a rock, mak 
 ing himself a bed of leaves. The next morning he saw a deer. 
 At that moment the pangs of hunger overcame his prudence. 
 He shot the animal. But he had no knife ; he had to cut open 
 the skin with his gun-flint, and tear off the flesh with his fingers. 
 This he ate raw, as a fire was not to be thought of. Continuing 
 his journey, he crossed the Muskingum, and came upon an aban 
 doned Indian camp. Some empty kegs were lying around. In 
 one of them he ventured to kindle a little fire and cook some veni- 
 
582 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 son. When he lay down to sleep the smoke protected him from 
 the gnats and mosquitoes. 
 
 In two days he reached the Ohio River at a point above 
 Wheeling. Building himself a rude raft, bound together with 
 withes of bark, he crossed the Ohio, and for the first time felt 
 himself out of danger. In the river bottom he found a number 
 of horses. He at once set to work, with an ingenuity of which 
 only the most skillful pioneer is capable, to manufacture a rude 
 halter out of the bark of trees. 
 
 This done, he attempted to capture a horse a much more 
 difficult task. The animals were both smart and wild. They 
 would graze quietly, apparently without noticing his approach, 
 until his hand had almost grasped the mane of one of their 
 number. At that moment, with a wild snort and a lofty kick, 
 they would turn and gallop out of his reach. 
 
 After great trouble Paull succeeded in capturing an old mare, 
 the worst in the lot. On this animal he continued his journey, 
 finally reaching a fort near Short creek. Here the inhabitants, 
 alarmed by the news of the destruction of Crawford's army, 
 had collected, in anxious expectation of an Indian invasion. 
 Here too, he found some of the volunteers who, like himself, had 
 escaped from the clutches of the savages. Resting for a day, 
 he procured a horse that was a horse, and proceeded to a settle 
 ment where he had some relatives. 
 
 For some time he was detained here by his foot, of which 
 the terrible inflammation threatened him with the loss of the 
 member. In time, however, he made his way back to the hum 
 ble home of his widowed mother, who, ignorant of her boy'& 
 fate, had nevertheless continued to watch for his return. 
 
 In after years Paull became a prominent man in Virginia. 
 He took an active part in the Indian campaigns toward the close 
 of the century. His descendants are numerous and of high 
 standing. Personally he was a man of splendid physique, 
 formed like a king, and bearing the head of a philosopher. He 
 was generous to a fault, and possessed a heart of unflinching 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 583 
 
 courage. He died on the ninth day of July, 1841, at his home 
 in Fayette County, Virginia, aged nearly eighty-one years. 
 
 Of all the men in the army the returned volunteers could 
 tell the least of the fate of Colonel Crawford and Doctor Knight. 
 The explanation of this is to be found in the account which fol 
 lows. It will be remembered that as the army was formed in 
 line of march in the deep darkness of the grove near Sandusky, 
 at nine o'clock of the evening of June the 5th, waiting for the 
 word of command to commence their perilous retreat, a furious 
 assault was made by the enemy. This precipitated matters. 
 The volunteers, without waiting for command, broke ranks and 
 galloped away in the greatest confusion. 
 
 At the moment of flight Colonel Crawford missed his son, 
 John Crawford, his son-in-law, William Harrison, and his 
 nephew, William Crawford. Alarmed at their absence, he com 
 menced to search for them in the darkness, and shouted aloud 
 their names. He ran hither and thither among the trees in 
 frantic endeavor to find the missing men. At this moment Doc 
 tor Knight came up, and declared that the young men must be 
 ahead of them, as the grove was then nearly deserted. Craw 
 ford answered that he was positive they were not in front, and 
 begged Knight not to leave him. The doctor promised him he 
 would not, and joined in the anxious search. 
 
 By this time the grove was rapidly filling up with the 
 enemy. Knight and Crawford were now joined by an old 
 man and a lad, both on horseback. The four endeavored to 
 make their escape, in their course overtaking the volunteers 
 who were entangled in the cranberry marsh. They traveled 
 fifteen or twenty yards apart, guiding themselves by the north 
 star. The old man frequently lagged behind, and never failed 
 when he did so to call out for the others to wait. While cross 
 ing a stream the old man made his usual halloo from the rear. 
 He was about to be reprimanded for the act, when an Indian 
 yell was heard not far from him. After that the old man was 
 not heard to call again, and no more was seen of him. 
 
584 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 At sunrise, Crawford and his companions, whose progress 
 had been slow and circuitous, found themselves only eight miles 
 from the battle-field. The horses of Crawford and the young 
 man already jaded, now gave out, and had to be abandoned. At 
 two o'clock in the afternoon the travelers fell in with Captain 
 Biggs, who had carried Lieutenant Ashley from the field of 
 action dangerously wounded. 
 
 On the next morning, journeying through what is now Craw 
 ford county, they found a deer which was freshly killed. The 
 meat was joyously cut up, and bound in *packs for transporta 
 tion. A mile farther on they were startled by the smoke of a 
 camp-fire. Leaving the wounded man with the lad, the others 
 cautiously approached the fire. No one was found near it. 
 While roasting their venison one of the volunteers came up. 
 He was the man who had killed the deer. Hearing the others 
 approach, he mistook them for Indians, and ran off. From that 
 time he also was a member of the little company with Crawford. 
 
 In their journey, somewhat against the judgment of Knight 
 and Biggs, they followed the trail of the army. Crawford and 
 the doctor, who had loaned his horse to Ashley, proceeded on 
 foot about two hundred yards in advance of the others. Biggs 
 and the wounded officer were placed in the center on horses, and 
 the two young men followed on foot. While advancing along 
 the south bank of the Sandusky, at a point just east of the pres 
 ent town of Leesville, three Indians started up within twenty 
 steps from Knight and Crawford. Knight sprang behind a tree 
 and was about tojjre. Crawford shouted to him not to do so. 
 
 While hesitating, one of the Indians, a Delaware, who had 
 often seen Knight, ran up and took him by the hand, calling 
 him "doctor." Biggs fired on seeing the Indians, but missed 
 his aim. " They then told us to call these people," says Knight, 
 " and make them come there, else they would go and , kill 
 them ; " which the colonel did, but the four got off, and escaped 
 for that time. 
 
 Crawford and Knight were at once led captive to the camp 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 585 
 
 of the Delawares. This was on Friday afternoon. On Sunday 
 evening, five Indians came into camp. They carried in their 
 hands two small and bloody objects. It was dusk. This made 
 it difficult to discern what they were. Crawford stooped and 
 looked closely. Turning, deathly sick, to Dr. Knight, he said, 
 " They are the scalps of Captain Biggs and Lieutenant Ashley." 
 
 Besides Crawford and Knight, there were other prisoners in 
 the camp. Altogether there were eleven. The Indians soon 
 discovered, to their joy, that Crawford was the commander of 
 the American army the " Big Captain." This information was 
 immediately carried to Captain Pipe. 
 
 The startling and important news at once became the occca- 
 sion for a grave council of the chiefs of the Delaware nation. 
 All other captives might be easily disposed of by the braves in 
 any village. Not so with the American " chief." For him 
 there must be devised no common fate. Captain Pipe presided 
 over the assembly which discussed the grave question. There 
 was complete unanimity of opinion. From the great and terri- 
 rible chief, who, in years gone by had been the greatest rival 
 of the noble White Eyes, who, on the latter's death, became the 
 most prominent man of all the Delawares, and who, by his sol 
 itary prestige and influence, had won his people from a policy 
 of neutrality, and made them of all the Indian allies of the 
 British the bitterest and the bloodiest, down to the youngest 
 brave, who, by the taking of some scalp in the recent battles, 
 had earned a warrior's privilege of admission to the council-hall 
 every voice pronounced in favor of DEATH B^FIRE. 
 
 The Delawares, however, were subject to th^ sway of the 
 Wyandots. Among the latter the burning of prisoners was no 
 longer practiced ; nor did the Delawares dare to inflict the death 
 penalty in that manner upon so great a captive, without first 
 obtaining permission from the Half King of the Wyandots. 
 How could his consent be obtained ? This was the question 
 which agitated the council. At last the oldest and wisest chiefs 
 devised a stratagem. A runner, bearing a belt of wampum, was 
 
586 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 despatched to the Half King of the Wyandots, with the follow 
 ing message : " Uncle ! We, your nephews, salute you in a spirit 
 of kindness, love, and respect. Uncle ! We have a project in 
 view which we ardently wish to accomplish, v and can accom 
 plish, if our uncle will not overrule us ! By returning the 
 wampum, we will have your pledged word!" 
 
 The Half King was puzzled. He questioned the messenger, 
 but the latter, carefully trained, professed ignorance. At last 
 the Half King, supposing the project to be some secret foray 
 against the white settlements, returned the wampum to the 
 bearer, with the word, " Say to my nephews, they have my 
 pledge." Crawford's doom was fixed. 
 
 On Monday morning, the 10th of June, the prisoners were 
 informed that they must go to Sandusky. Crawford, learning 
 that Simon Girty who, as will be remembered, was an old 
 friend, was at Sandusky, urged strongly to be taken to that 
 place at once. While the other prisoners halted for the night 
 at the deserted Wyandot town, Crawford, under two guards, 
 was taken to Sandusky, arriving there in the night. He 
 demanded to be at once taken to Girty's lodge. Here, sitting 
 in the dim light of a smoldering camp-fire, he made his appeal, 
 long and earnest, to the renegade, to save him. He offered 
 Girty one thousand dollars to save his life. 
 
 The ruffian moodily stirred the ashes, and said nothing. At 
 last, being urged by Crawford for an answer, he turned, and 
 with a look , which, to any other than a despairing man would 
 have told that he was lying, promised, in a cold, indifferent tone, 
 to do what was asked. He also told the colonel that William 
 Harrison and young William Crawford had been captured by 
 the Shawanese, but pardoned. The falsity of this statement we 
 already know from what Slover had witnessed. 
 
 Knight and his nine companions, on the morning of the 
 llth, were met by Captain Pipe at the old Wyandot town. The 
 latter, with his own hands, proceeded to paint the faces of all the 
 prisoners black. While thus engaged, he told Knight in very 
 
THE DOOM OF CRA WFORD. 587 
 
 good English, that he was to be taken to the Shawariese towns 
 to see his friends. The ominous import of these smooth words 
 was at once read by Knight. During the morning Colonel 
 Crawford was also brought to this place. Pipe, who had not 
 seen him the night before, with whom he was well acquainted, 
 received him with pretended kindness, joked about his making a 
 good Indian, but nevertheless painted him black. 
 
 The whole party now started toward the Wyandot town. 
 Crawford and Knight were kept somewhat in the rear. Pres 
 ently a savage shouted back some unintelligible words. Their 
 guards hurried them forward. They now understood what the 
 maneuver meant. Lying by the roadside were the corpses, pale 
 and gory, of four of their companions. They had been scalped 
 and tomahawked. 
 
 The suspicion of Knight was confirmed as to their real des 
 tination, when, instead of proceeding to the Wyandot village, 
 their guards struck into another trail leading to the north-west. 
 Coming to a small creek, Crawford and Knight were removed 
 to a little distance, while the others were seated around the foot 
 of the tree. At the place where they halted they had found a 
 number of squaws and Indian boys. In a moment Crawford and 
 Knight were horrified to see these fall upon the five prisoners 
 and tomahawk them all. A squaw cut off the head of one man 
 and kicked it around in great glee as a football. 
 
 Saddened at this awful scene, and wrapped in the blackest 
 gloom concerning their own fate, the two prisoners, now left 
 alone, resumed their march. On their way they met Simon 
 Grirty, but he had no word of kindness. Waiting until Knight 
 came up, the latter went toward him reaching out his hand, but 
 the ruffian bade him be gone, calling him a "damned rascal." 
 Three quarters of a mile from the village of Tymochtee another 
 halt was made. The reason of this and the awful occurrences 
 which transpired will appear when we return to the story of 
 the unfortunate Crawford. For the present we proceed to relate 
 the incidents which afterwards befell Knight, "who for over two 
 
588 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES, 
 
 hours before leaving the place drank to the dregs, it may be 
 premised, a cup of inexpressible horror." 
 
 After nightfall Knight was taken on to Tymochtee, where 
 he lay bound all night. The next morning he was placed in 
 charge of an Indian named Tutelu, who at once started with 
 him for the Shawanese towns, forty miles away. The prisoner 
 was on foot. Behind him strode his savage guard, wielding an 
 enormous lash, with which he urged the prisoner forward. 
 Knight, pretending to think that he was to become an Indian, 
 asked Tutelu if they were not to live together as brothers, 
 in one house, when they reached the town. The Indian, 
 human as he was, was touched by the flattery, and answered 
 "Yes." At night the captive was bound and laid down to 
 rest, but the vigilant guard closed not his eyes. At daybreak 
 he untied his captive. 
 
 Tutelu rose and began to replenish the fire. A swarm of 
 mosquitoes was bothering them, and Knight asked the savage if 
 he should make a smoke behind him. He answered "Yes." 
 The doctor stooped and picked up the end of a small stick 
 which had been burnt till it was but eighteen inches long. For 
 the purpose which, he contemplated it was altogether too small. 
 Yet it was the best to be had. He then took up another little 
 stick, taking a coal between them, and went behind the Indian. 
 Instantly dropping the coal, he struck the savage on the head 
 with all his force, so that he fell forward with both his hands 
 in the fire. The Indian scrambled to his feet, badly burned, 
 and ran off, howling in the most fearful manner. Knight fol 
 lowed at the top of his speed to shoot him, but in drawing back 
 the hammer of the Indian's gun, he broke the mainspring, and 
 was forced to abandon the chase. 
 
 Tutelu never stopped running, it is presumed, till he reached 
 the Shawanese towns. He arrived there, finding Slover, who 
 was then still a captive. The 'Indian had a wound four inches 
 long in his head. He also had another thing in his head. It 
 was a story. With pompous manner and swelling words he 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 589 
 
 related that his prisoner, the doctor, was a big, strong, tall man, 
 that, being promised by Knight that he would not go away, he 
 had untied him. 
 
 According to Tutelu, while he was kindling the fire, the doc 
 tor had snatched up the gun behind him and struck him ; Tutelu 
 had made a slash at Knight with his knife, cutting off his 
 fingers and inflicting two stabs. As soon as his relation was 
 over, Slover stepped into the group and told the Delawares that 
 Tutelu had lied, that he knew the doctor, and he was a weak, 
 little man. The Indians laughed heartily, and told Tutelu that 
 they believed his whole story was false. 
 
 After abandoning his chase, Knight returned to the fire. 
 He equipped himself for a journey home with the blanket, moc 
 casins, gun, and ammunition of the Indian. He was not far 
 from the spot now occupied by Kenton, Hardin county, Ohio. 
 In his journey the only food he could find was green gooseber 
 ries. These, however, he was unable to eat on account of a 
 wound in his jaw, which had been inflicted by an Indian out 
 of pure malice. He tried every way possible to fix his gun, but 
 failing, finally threw it away. His medical knowledge proved of 
 some value to him. After his jaw got better, and he began to 
 eat gooseberries, mandrakes, raw black birds, and terrapin, these 
 delicacies gave him dyspepsia. Unlike most of the borderers, 
 he was a delicate man, unused to hardships. To cure the 
 trouble spoken of, he would gather and eat a little wild ginger. 
 On the morning of the 4th of July he reached Fort Pitt. 
 
 Sadly let us turn back to the scene where Crawford was 
 halted on the afternoon of the llth of June, three-quarters of 
 a mile from Tymochtee. When he arrived he found a large 
 fire burning. As it was a hot summer day his suspicions were 
 at once aroused. A hundred Indians were lying about on the 
 ground. The picture, if transferred to canvas, would be one of 
 utter inactivity and laziness. 
 
 As the approaching party suddenly appeared in sight, an 
 electric shock would not have more quickly and completely 
 
590 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 transformed the scene of idleness to One of intense activity and 
 animation. A dozen warriors ran forward and seized Crawford. 
 They tore his clothes from him with eager hands. He was 
 made to sit down on the ground. Surrounded by a howling 
 mob, he at once became the object of showers of dirt, stones, 
 and sticks. While some were engaged in this sport, others 
 quickly fixed in the ground a large stake, some fifteen feet 
 long, which had been previously prepared. Others still ran 
 quickly to and fro, piling up around the stake great heaps of 
 light, dry hickory wood, which had also been split and prepared 
 for the occasion. The wood was arranged loosely, with large 
 apertures, through which the draft might more quickly carry 
 the sputtering blaze. 
 
 Crawford had taken in the entire scene at a glance. He 
 called to Girty, who was in the crowd, and asked if he was to 
 be burnt. The brute, who had -not made the least exertion to 
 save his old friend, yelled back, "of course." The wretched 
 man was seized and his hands bound behind him. A rope was 
 fastened to the stake, and the other end passed around his body. 
 It was long enough to permit him to walk around the stake 
 several times. 
 
 It was four o'clock. The afternoon sun was already casting 
 somber shades through the forest. O.ver head patches of the 
 azure sky, as calm and peaceful as eternity, could be seen by 
 the doomed man. From the top of a lofty tree a little bird 
 caroled forth its woodland song, happy, innocent, and free. But 
 in the dark assemblage beneath the trees every malignant coun 
 tenance was lit up by the wild insanity, the everlasting unrest, 
 of sin, of wickedness, of hell. 
 
 Willing hands applied a. torch to the heaps of wood. The 
 crackling flames leaped quickly through the open spaces. As 
 the wood began to kindle, Captain Pipe arose, and addressed the 
 crowd briefly, but earnestly, in his own dark language, making 
 all the while the most terrible gestures at the heroic man, who 
 stood calmly at the stake confronting his doom. As the speaker 
 
THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. 591 
 
 finished, an unearthly yell burst from the hoarse throats of his 
 auditors. Heedless of the small flames which were already 
 shooting upward through the wood, they leaped within the cir 
 cle, and fell upon the unfortunate Crawford. 
 
 A hundred yards away stood Doctor Knight, an unwilling 
 spectator, filled with an anguish which it is impossible to con 
 ceive. The throng about Crawford was so dense for the time 
 being that his friend could not tell what was being done. He 
 could only see uplifted hands rising and falling above the heads 
 of the crowd, and hear its angry roar. In a moment the throng 
 fell back. Knight could then see that they had cut off Craw 
 ford's ears, and beaten him black and blue. 
 
 Though compelled by the circle of flames which now leaped 
 up and walled in the unfortunate man, to remain at a little dis 
 tance, the tormentors were by no means through. Warriors 
 shot burning blasts of powder into his quivering flesh. Indian 
 boys snatched blazing hickory poles, and held them against his 
 body. As, wild with pain, he ran around and around the stake, 
 to avoid one party of tormentors, he was confronted at every 
 point by others, with burning fagots and redhot irons. The 
 squaws threw quantities of burning coals against him, which, 
 falling on the ground at his feet, left him a path of fire 
 to tread. 
 
 In the extremity of his agony, a scream from the maddened 
 man rang out through the forest, " Girty ! Girty ! shoot me 
 through the heart ! Quick ! ! For God's sake, do not refuse 
 me !" And it is on record that to this appeal the monster made 
 answer with a laugh. Crawford turned then in his supplica 
 tions from man to God. Leaning against the stake, enduring 
 all the torments which malice could invent, with manly fortitude 
 and heroic calmness, in low, earnest tones he poured out his 
 supplications to the Almighty. 
 
 How long the awful scene continued, we do not know. Dr. 
 Knight says two hours. But this is, probably, much too long. 
 That the time should ,.have seemed to him almost endless, is 
 
INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 not surprising. At last nature seemed to be able to endure no 
 more. Crawford fainted, and fell on his stomach. An old hag, 
 with the countenance of a devil, threw a quantity of coals 
 and ashes on the back of the prostrate man. With a deep 
 groan, he again arose, probably in a delirium, and began to walk 
 slowly around the stake. He was as black as coal from head 
 to foot, save where the burnt flesh had broken off, from which 
 spots ran reddened rivulets. 
 
 The end came at last. Tradition says that the spirit of the 
 dying man took its flight just as the western sun threw its 
 setting beams across the landscape. 
 
 Such was THE DOOM OF CRAWFORD. Far and wide through 
 the settlements of the white man spread a melancholy gloom 
 as the story passed from lip to lip. Heart-rending was the 
 anguish in a lonely cabin upon the banks of the Youghiogheny, 
 where the widow wept without hope. 
 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNEtiSEEANS. 
 
 593 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 
 
 HERE is an egotism about nearly all Indian 
 story-tellers. The events which these chimney- 
 corner oracles relate are local, and closely con 
 nected with themselves or their ancestors. In 
 the locality where they lived, the scenes of 
 violence and the feats of heroism were une- 
 qualed. This characteristic has passed from 
 the story-teller to the story-writer. Books 
 of border warfare are usually books of neighborhood warfare. 
 So it comes that the reader of two or three of such books imag 
 ines that the region whose history they recount was fearfully 
 afflicted by Indians, while other localities were exempt. 
 
 Most northern readers of Indian literature have the impression 
 that the long warfare carried on in the Ohio valley and around 
 the lower lakes between the white man and the red man consti 
 tuted the entire struggle. They think that the savages of the 
 south were peaceful, innocent, and happy; that every time a 
 white man came along, the savages gave him a generous strip 
 of land and supplied him with food, and as the settlers became 
 more numerous and encroached more and more upon the game 
 preserves of the lords of the forest, the latter unresistingly 
 withdrew farther and farther to the west. This. notion is false. 
 The frontiers from the lakes to the gulf were for nearly thirty 
 years the scene of the most furious Indian warfare. If any 
 thing, the savages of the south were more hideous, more pas 
 sionate, more cruel, and more revengeful than their northern 
 
 33 
 
594 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 cousins. As an illustration of this, we give in the present 
 chapter a sketch of the border warfare of Tennessee. 
 
 In 1756 a British nobleman caused to be erected at the head 
 of navigation on the Tennessee River, thirty miles south-west 
 of the present busy and beautiful city of Knoxville, a stockade 
 fort. It was called Fort Louden, named after its founder, of 
 course. In that day this post was, perhaps, the most exposed 
 of any on the western frontier. It was deemed to be five hun 
 dred miles from Charleston. Even when the Indians were at 
 peace, it was a matter of the greatest difficulty to transport 
 supplies over the lofty Alleghanies to this lonely and isolated 
 outpost of civilization. It was garrisoned by two hundred 
 British soldiery. Sometimes the men talked among themselves 
 of their danger in case of an Indian war. On such occasions the 
 bravest shuddered. 
 
 The Indian war came. Brands from the conflagration raging 
 in the north fired the hearts of the fierce Cherokees. In a sin 
 gle day all communication between Fort Louden and the eastern 
 settlements was cut off. An expedition was organized in North 
 Carolina and Virginia to march against the Cherokees. The 
 rangers attacked Little Keowee, Estatoe, and Sugaw Town, 
 burnt the wigwams, and put every warrior to the sword. In 
 the brief chronicles of the time, however, we find that the 
 expedition was ambuscaded soon after these victories, and 
 utterly routed. 
 
 So it came about that the distant garrison of Fort Louden 
 was left to itself. Animated by a hope of relief, the men sub 
 sisted for a month upon the flesh of lean horses and dogs, and 
 a small supply of Indian beans, smuggled into the fort by some 
 kind-hearted Cherokee women. When the last dog in the place 
 was killed and eaten, the garrison, inexperienced in Indian war 
 fare, resolved to surrender to the Cherokees on the best terms 
 that could be had. The terms, indeed, were liberal. The sol 
 diers marched out with their guns and ammunition, under the 
 escort of a band of Indian hunters, who were to provide game 
 
THE TROUBLE* OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 595 
 
 on the homeward march. By the capitulation the white men 
 were to withdraw unmolested. 
 
 On the first night the men were startled to learn that every 
 one of their Indian escort had left them. They remained 
 throughout the night in great anxiety. At daybreak one of 
 the sentinels, which had been posted, came running in, his face 
 white with fear, saying that he had seen a vast number of 
 Indians, armed and painted in the most dreadful manner, creep 
 ing through the bushes toward the camp. The men, enfeebled 
 by starvation, grasped their arms with unsteady hands. At 
 that moment the surrounding woods burst into flame and roar. 
 Thirty men fell dead. The survivors fled panic-stricken, only 
 to be captured and taken back to Fort Louden. 
 
 Captain Stuart was purchased by a friendly Indian, and taken 
 into the latter's family. A day or two afterwards the Indians dis 
 covered ten bags of powder, which had been buried in the fort 
 to prevent their falling into the hands of the Indians, a discov 
 ery which almost cost Stuart his life. The Indians now resolved 
 to take the cannon, which they had captured, and march against 
 Fort Prince George. Ignorant of the management of artillery, 
 they informed Stuart that he must go with them, and handle the 
 cannon for them. In case he refused, the prisoners were to be 
 brought forth and burned, one at a time, before his eyes, until 
 his obstinacy gave way. Stuart w r as alarmed. He determined 
 to escape, an undertaking in which he succeeded through the 
 connivance of his friend, Attakullakulla. Making his way to 
 the white settlements, he at once compelled the government to 
 ransom such of the unhappy prisoners as still survived. A 
 few months afterwards, a second army was sent against the 
 Cherokees, forcing them after a terrible battle to sue for and 
 obtain peace. 
 
 By 1776 north-eastern Tennessee was studded with many 
 settlements. There were grist mills, cleared fields, clusters of 
 cabins, and blacksmith's shops at many eligible points. The 
 beauty of the scenery, the delightful climate, and the fertile 
 
596 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 soil had attracted many adventurous spirits. On these happy 
 communities burst the news of a Cherokee invasion. Nancy 
 Ward, the wife of a Cherokee chief, sent warnings to the set 
 tlers of the intrigues of British agents among her people. 
 
 The warning given by the kind-hearted squaw proved true. 
 Such preparations for defense as were possible were hastily 
 made. One band of warriors fell upon the settlements near 
 Long Island. They were met by a force of pioneers, who, 
 instead of waiting in the fort, had determined to attack the 
 Indians and save the settlements. The battle took place at 
 sunset. The white men were victorious. More than forty 
 Indians were killed during the ten minutes which the engage 
 ment occupied. 
 
 In the midst of the struggle Lieutenant Moore shot a big 
 Cherokee chief in the knee. Moore sprang on him with a drawn 
 knife, which the Indian caught by the blade. A desperate strug 
 gle followed. The combatants rolled over and over, each cling 
 ing to the knife with one hand, and seeking with the other to 
 inflict some mortal wound on his antagonist. The Indian's hand 
 was cut to the bone by the knife blade. Yet still he held on. 
 Moore finally succeeded in getting his tomahawk loose from his 
 belt, and with a quick circle in the air killed his enemy. 
 
 Another division of the Cherokees stole toward the settle 
 ments on the Wollichucky River. The settlers at Gillespie Sta 
 tion fled before the invaders to Watauga. The Indians, coming 
 upon the freshly deserted settlement, paused not to destroy the 
 corn, stock, and improvements, but hurried on in hot pursuit of 
 the flying white men. Scarcely were the latter safely sheltered 
 behind the palisade, when the pursuers dashed up and assaulted 
 the fort at Watauga. The assault on the fort was unsuccessful, 
 but some stragglers without fell into the hands of the Indians. 
 A Mrs. Bean was captured, taken back to the Indian towns, 
 and condemned to death. She. was tied, taken to the top of a 
 mound, and was about to be burned, when Nancy Ward inter 
 fered, and saved her life. 
 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 597 
 
 James Cooper and Samuel Moore were out making clap 
 boards, when they were attacked by the Indians. Cooper 
 leaped into the river, hoping to dive and escape. The water was 
 too shallow, and he was killed. Twenty feet further down, the 
 river was deeper. Had he run to that spot, he might have 
 escaped. Moore was carried away by the Indians, and burned 
 to death. 
 
 After the withdrawal of the Indians, a corpse was found in 
 a thicket near the fort. The man had been flying for refuge, 
 and in two minutes more would have reached the gate. 
 
 The settlers of the south were terrible fighters. One army 
 of two thousand men marched against the southern towns of 
 the Cherokees, burning thirty or forty villages. At the same 
 time, another force of eighteen hundred men fell upon the over- 
 hill towns. This force was confronted by three thousand war 
 riors. At night the white men built enormous camp-fires, and 
 erected lodges, as if to encamp for several days. In the dark 
 ness a strong detachment was sent down the river with instruc 
 tions to cross and fall upon the flank of the enemy. The Indians 
 were assembled on Big Island, in French Broad River. That 
 night they fled. The maneuvering of the whites had been dis 
 covered. The invading army advanced into the heart of the 
 Indian country unopposed by a single warrior. 
 
 In the center of each of the Indian towns which fell into 
 their hands, the whites were astonished to find a circular tower 
 thirty feet in diameter and twenty feet high, built of cane, and 
 covered with dirt. Within were rude couches, arranged around 
 the wall. This was the council-house, and on these couches 
 the chieftains of the south, more fond of luxury than those of 
 a colder clime, reclined at ease during their deliberations, fn 
 one of these structures were arranged the terms of peace. 
 
 While these events were happening east of the Cumberland 
 Mountains, there were as yet west of the mountains no perma 
 nent settlements. Now and then a few bold explorers from 
 Kentucky pushed their way down into the wilderness, but few 
 
598 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 had the courage to remain. One settlement was formed near 
 Bledsoe's Lick, in the very heart of the Chickasaw Nation. 
 
 In 1778 two hunters. Spencer and Holliday, came from Ken 
 tucky into this region. Spencer found a hollow tree, and an 
 nounced his intention of living in it. In vain Holliday endea 
 vored to persuade him to return to Kentucky. The man was 
 fascinated with the notion of living in a tree. No argument 
 nor entreaty could move him. With true southern generosity 
 he accompanied his companion a part of the way home. Holli 
 day had lost his knife. Spencer at parting broke the blade of 
 his own in two, and gave his comrade half. Spencer then re 
 turned to his hollow tree. 
 
 Not a great distance off another white man had erected a 
 temporary cabin. Neither the owner of the cabin nor the occu 
 pant of the tree knew of the other's proximity. One morning 
 Spencer happened to pass near by, leaving the print of his enor 
 mous foot in the rich soil. Soon afterward the strange hunter 
 discovered these tracks. The alarm of Robinson Crusoe at dis 
 covering the footprints of the cannibals on his lonely island was 
 not greater than the 'hunter's fright at his discovery. He at 
 once concluded that the track, which was very large, had been 
 made by some giant. Leaving every thing behind him but his 
 gun, the man fled through the wilderness, and never stopped 
 until he reached the distant settlements on the Wabash River. 
 Spencer continued his lonely life for more than a year. 
 
 The fair region which had so fascinated Spencer was not 
 destined to remain a solitude. From the north and east brave 
 pioneers were making their way amid incomparable hardships, 
 to reclaim this region from the 'grasp of barbarism. The adven 
 tures of one party of emigrants who set out in boats from the 
 fort on Holston River, are well worth mentioning. There must 
 have been of men, women, and children some two hundred in 
 the company. Their departure was made December 22, 1779. 
 Their course lay down the Holston and Tennessee rivers. 
 
 One day one of the boats was wrecked against an island and 
 

 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 601 
 
 much of the cargo lost. While the other crews were attempting 
 to save the precious property, Reuben Harrison went into the 
 wood to look for game. Night came and the man did not 
 return. At intervals guns were fired, but without result. On 
 the following day the emigrants proceeded on their way, leav 
 ing the lost man's father and a few others still engaged in fran 
 tic search. In two or three days they found the man, almost 
 famished. He had lost his way. 
 
 The trials of the emigrants were many. On the 6th of 
 March, one of the party died. That night Mrs. Ephraim Pey 
 ton was delivered of a child. On the following day the fleet 
 passed an Indian village. The savages seemed friendly, but on 
 leaving the place the emigrants were alarmed to find a body of 
 Indians keeping up with them along the shore. 
 
 Here Mr. Stewart was killed. He had embarked with the 
 company on Holston River, but on account of the fact that his 
 family were afflicted with the small-pox, his boat, with twenty- 
 eight persons, was kept a mile or more to the rear of the others. 
 At night, when the encampment was made by the main party, 
 a horn was sounded as a signal to the infected boat to stop 
 also. The Indians, noticing the isolation of this boat, inter 
 cepted it, and killed or captured the entire company. The cries 
 of the unfortunate people were distinctly heard by those in the 
 other boats. Yet, for fear of the savages, and of the mofe ter 
 rible enemy of disease, no rescue was attempted. 
 
 Toward evening of the same day, John Cotton's canoe over 
 turned. The company, pitying his distress, landed in order to 
 assist him. As they touched the bank Indians attacked them, 
 and the emigrants were driven off with loss. An hour later 
 the boat of Jonathan Jennings ran on a rock, "where," says 
 the historian of the expedition, "we were compelled to leave 
 Jennings and his family, perhaps to be slaughtered by their 
 merciless enemies." 
 
 About four o'clock the next morning cries of "Help poor 
 Jennings," reached the ears of the emigrants. The man had 
 
602 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 followed them after a terrible adventure. No sooner had the 
 fleet disappeared than the Indians commenced firing at him. 
 Jennings had ordered his people to throw over the cargo and 
 try to get the boat off the rock. Three men of the company, 
 instead of obeying, had jumped overboard and made their way 
 to land. The women in the boat, left alone with Jennings, who 
 was a brave and clear-headed man, kept at the task with des 
 perate exertions. Mrs. Jennings finally gave the boat a terrific 
 shove, almost precipitating herself into the water, but neverthe 
 less getting it off the rock. 
 
 The narrator, at this point, gives us a biography from birth 
 to death of Mrs. Peyton's infant. He says : " It is to be 
 remarked that Mrs. Peyton, who was the night before delivered 
 of an infant, which was unfortunately killed in the hurry and con 
 fusion incident to such a disaster, assisted Mrs. Jennings consider 
 ably." After many other adventures, the party made their way 
 to the Ohio, and thence up the Cumberland River, where they 
 settled at Big Salt Lick. The trials of this party were but 
 specimens of the misfortunes which befell many others, but the 
 selfishness with which they refused to help each other in dis 
 tress, it is hoped, was not usual. 
 
 During one of the intervals of peace with the Cherokees, 
 Colonel James Hubbardt and a companion ventured to one of 
 their towns on a trading expedition. Hubbardt's family had 
 been butchered by Indians in Virginia, and he had become a 
 dangerous foe to every savage. In the Cherokee wars many an 
 Indian's scalp had fallen into his hands. On one occasion he 
 had had a conflict with an Indian named Butler. The savage, 
 terribly punished, escaped alive to brood over the injury and 
 meditate revenge. Learning of Hubbardt's presence in tha 
 Indian country, Butler and a friend sought him for the pur 
 pose of killing him. They met on a narrow trail leading 
 through the forest. 
 
 To the fierce and insulting challenge of his Indian enemy, 
 Hubbardt replied with soft words, leaning his rifle against the 
 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 603 
 
 tree, and drawing forth a bottle of whisky, which he offered to 
 the savages. These things the chieftain received with stony in 
 difference. His eye alone indicated emotion. In it blazed the 
 fiercest fires of scorn and hate. Hubbardt wished to avoid a 
 conflict. The troubled pioneers had had little enough of peace. 
 A fight with Butler meant another war. The white man avoided 
 taking up his gun. He simply placed his hand upon the barrel. 
 The Indian commenced to move his horse from side to side, and 
 quick as lightning raised his gun, and fired. The ball cut the 
 hair from Hubbardt's head, but failed to wound. The Indians 
 at once retreated, but Hubbardt shot his enemy, and killed him, 
 before he had proceeded a hundred feet. 
 
 The history of the Tennessee settlements during the decade 
 of 1780 to 1790 is a tangled mass of murders, outrages, sur 
 prises, captivities, burnings, and avenging expeditions. It was 
 a time which tried men's souls. Hardly a settlement of West 
 Tennessee escaped the hand of the destroyer. On the 2d of 
 April, 1781, a desperate attack was made on the fort at the 
 bluff on the Cumberland River. The garrison observed three 
 warriors approaching. Suddenly the trio halted, fired at the 
 fort, and took to their heels. Nineteen horsemen at once started 
 in pursuit. The latter had proceeded some distance from the 
 fort, when a lot of savages rose up in a thicket, and fired. 
 The whites dismounted for battle. Their horses, frightened by 
 the guns, ran off. Several of the men were killed outright, 
 while the rest fled toward the fort. 
 
 Meanwhile a line of Indians rushed forward between the 
 men and the stockade. But for the greed of a few savages not 
 a man would have escaped. As the horses of the whites gal 
 loped away, a number of Indians left the line in pursuit of 
 them. Toward the gap thus made the flying white men ran. 
 At this moment a pack of hounds from the fort flew at the 
 Indians, and embarrassed them sufficiently to prevent them from 
 filling up the interval until several of the whites had passed 
 through toward the fort. 
 
604 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 In the flight Isaac Lucas fell, wounded by a rifle ball. An 
 Indian ran forward to scalp him, but Lucas, supporting himself 
 on one hand, fired and killed the savage. His comrades in the 
 fort cheered the exploit, and rushing forth, rescued him. 
 
 Edward Swanson in his flight was pursued by a powerful 
 Indian. The latter came closer and closer. Swanson could hear 
 his very breath. Suddenly the white man felt the cold muzzle 
 of a rifle on the back of his neck, and heard the click of the 
 trigger. The gun failed to go off. Swanson seized the gun 
 barrel, and with a jerk emptied the priming from the pan. The 
 Indian at once clubbed his gun, and knocked his antagonist 
 down. At this moment John Buchanan fired, wounding the 
 Indian, and enabling Swanson to escape. 
 
 The year 1788 was memorable for the adventure of Colonel 
 James Brown, a Revolutionary soldier, who was emigrating to 
 Western Tennessee, to take possession of the lands awarded him 
 for his military services. He had with him his wife, five sons, 
 and four daughters, together with some slaves. Warned by the 
 settlers, who had had a bitter experience of many years of 
 unintermittent warfare with the Indians, of the danger of a pass 
 age through the lonely Cumberland Gap, as well as along the 
 Indian-haunted trail through the mountains, he determined to 
 descend the Tennessee River to the Ohio, thence by way of the 
 Ohio and Cumberland Rivers to his destination. 
 
 He had a boat built at the settlement on the Holston River. 
 Around its sides were placed bulwarks of heavy oak plank. 
 These were perforated with port-holes. In the stern of the boat 
 was provided the additional defense of a swivel gun. Five 
 young men besides Brown's family joined the party. The start 
 was made on the 4th of May. At an Indian town three or four 
 days' journey down the river, the chief and a few warriors met 
 the voyagers, and appeared friendly enough. Their friendliness, 
 however, was but the mask of treachery. 
 
 That night swift runners set out for the lower towns, carry 
 ing news of the passage of the vessel down the river, and of 
 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 605 
 
 the exact strength of its crew. Two days afterwards, the voy 
 agers were disturbed to see four canoes coming up the river 
 with ten Indians in each. They carried white flags. Colonel 
 Brown ordered them to remain at a distance. To this no atten 
 tion was paid. Brown at once put his boat about, and prepared 
 to sink the canoes with a shot from his swivel-gun. At that 
 moment the Indians cried out that it was a time of peace, and 
 claimed protection under a treaty, that they only wished to find 
 out where the white men were going, and to trade with them. 
 Brown was inexperienced in Indian fighting. He knew nothing 
 of the treaty, but supposing that there might be some such 
 thing, and fearful of bringing on an Indian war, directed the 
 young men not to fire. 
 
 The Indians came alongside the boat. Presently seven or 
 eight more canoes came up. At this re-enforcement, the sav 
 ages coolly began to transfer the cargo of the boat to their own 
 canoes. Brown begged them not to take his little property, all 
 that remained to him at the close of the Revolutionary War. 
 Their spokesman replied that their chief was away, but would 
 return that night, and make the Indians give up what they bad- 
 taken, and further, promised to furnish a pilot to take the boat 
 down some dangerous rapids. The voyagers looked on in utter 
 helplessness while the robbery continued. Suddenly a hideous- 
 looking savage caught one of the white boys by the throat, and 
 was about to kill him with a sword. Colonel Brown sprang 
 forward to protect his son. The Indian let go of the child, but 
 struck at the father, cutting his head nearly half off. Another 
 Indian seized the wounded man, and to the inexpressible anguish 
 of his family, threw him overboard. 
 
 The Indians then took possession of the boat, and headed 
 it toward the shore. They landed at the town of Mckajack. 
 The Indians got out, taking with them the women and children, 
 and ordered the young men to take the boat to a point a little 
 farther down the shore. As they started to obey, the savages 
 from the shore fired at, and killed, every man on board. 
 
606 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The prisoners met different fates. Little Joseph Brown was 
 taken by an old white man and his wife to their home. The 
 old man looked much like an Indian; there was no external dif 
 ference. The boy had scarcely reached the house when a very 
 large old squaw came in in a towering rage. She yelled out 
 that the boy ought to be killed, as otherwise he would live to 
 guide an army to the place. The old Irishman stood in the 
 door, and informed the squaw that the boy should not be killed. 
 At this moment the squaw's son came up, and asked if there 
 was a white man in the house. The old man answered, " Only 
 a bit of a boy." 
 
 The white man who had thus voluntarily undertaken the 
 protection of young Brown was a British deserter, who had 
 lived among the Cherokees for some years. Young Brown had 
 been captured by a son of the deserter's wife, a French woman, 
 who had been taken by the Indians when a child. 
 
 When Cufcleotoy insisted on killing young Brown, the old 
 man answered that the boy was his son's prisoner. Incensed 
 at this, the Indian, who was a man in authority, rushed upon 
 the Irishman with uplifted tomahawk. The latter at once cried 
 out that he might have the boy. The savage jerked the child 
 out of the house into the midst of a group of Indians, who were 
 carrying the scalps of the boy's murdered brothers. They took 
 the clothes off of the little fellow, and he knelt down in -the act 
 of prayer, expecting each moment to be struck dead. The old 
 French woman begged the Indians not to kill him there, lest his 
 spirit should haunt the road along which 'she passed on her way 
 to the spring. 
 
 A couple of Indians made off with the boy, when Cutleotoy 
 stopped and said, as the child was the prisoner of poor Job (the 
 French woman's son), it was wrong to take him. He, himself, 
 had a negro from the boat, and was afraid that Job would come 
 ami kill his prisoner. 
 
 That night the chief of the town, named The Breath, came 
 home. He was displeased at what had been done. He sent 
 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 607 
 
 for the captive-boy, and told him that his only safety would be 
 for him to be adopted into his family. This was done, and the 
 little gentleman from a northern city was transformed into a 
 young savage, with a scalp-lock and ear-rings. The boy found 
 a friend in a grandson of the French woman. 
 
 While young Joseph met with these adventures, his two sis 
 ters were carried off by some Creek Indians, who took part in 
 the capture. The Cherokees pursued, recaptured the girls, and 
 brought them back. The children became servants of the Indian 
 families in which they lived. Mrs. Brown was carried off by 
 another band of Creeks, driven on foot more than two hundred 
 miles, and became a slave in one of their villages. After long 
 delay she escaped, and made her way to the residence of 
 McGillevray, the great chief of the Creeks, and told him her 
 misfortunes. The latter at once generously ransomed her from 
 her captor, as also one of the daughters, and the two were 
 restored to their friends. In time, McGillevray performed the 
 same kind office for little Joseph Brown. Of him we will 
 hereafter see how the prophecy of the old squaw, that he would 
 live to guide an army against Mckajack, was fulfilled. 
 
 In 1792 and 1793 the Indian outrages came thick and fast. 
 Every settler passing along the road, every planter at work in 
 his cotton-field, every ferryman pushing his boat with heavy 
 oar through the sluggish current of the river, was liable to fall 
 a victim to some shaft of destruction from an unseen hand. If 
 we take the annals of the time for a single fortnight, and itemize 
 the outrages committed by Indians, it would read something 
 like this : 
 
 January 22, 1793. John Pates killed and scalped by Indians 
 on Crooked Creek. 
 
 January 24th. The Cherokees stole three of William David 
 son's horses. 
 
 January 27th. A party of Indians assaulted the house of 
 Mr. Nelson, near Knoxville. Two of his sons, James and 
 Thomas, were killed. 
 
608 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 February 1st. Fourteen horses stolen from Flat Creek. 
 
 February 3d. Two young men named Clements killed. 
 
 February 5th. William Massey and Adam Green ambus 
 caded and killed at the gap of Powell's Mountain. 
 
 February 7th. A party of Indians burned the house of 
 Gallaher. 
 
 February 9th. Great alarm on the frontier. Two hundred 
 white men, women, and children crowded together in great dis 
 comfort at Craig's Stockade. 
 
 And so we might go on with the red record, week after week, 
 and month after month. 
 
 Andrew Creswell was a settler, living in the neighborhood 
 of McGaughey's station. He had with him his family and two 
 other men. One day William Cunningham, walking along a 
 winding road through the forest, heard a shot, felt a sharp pain 
 in his right arm, and saw behind a neighboring tree the figure 
 of a lurking Indian. Cunningham ran with all haste to Cres- 
 well's house. He clutched the door-knob, pushed his way in, 
 and fell breathless on the floor. Every inmate of the cabin 
 knew at once what it meant. Doors and windows were barri 
 caded. They waited, but no foe appeared. An agitated con 
 ference was held as to whether they should abandon the cabin 
 and seek refuge at McGaughey's station or not. Mrs. Creswell 
 spoke. She said, "I would rather die than go to liver in the 
 filth and confinement of the stockade." 
 
 66 Then," said Creswell, " I will defend this house until it is 
 burned over my head." Every preparation was made for defense. 
 From the barn-door a long lever reaching into the house under 
 neath the ground, was arranged so that it could not be opened 
 except from inside the house. With this and other arrange 
 ments Creswell calmly awaited the foe. Whether they ever came 
 or not we do not know. Such was the courage of the settlers. 
 
 Exasperated by these and similar outrages, the settlers took 
 such retaliatory measures as were possible. Volunteer expedi 
 tions went out every season to attack the Indians. Toward 
 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 609 
 
 the latter part of December 1793, breathless scouts reported 
 that one thousand mounted Indians were marching against 
 Knoxville. 
 
 Two or three accidents caused them to abandon their pur 
 pose. First, there was a quarrel between some of the leaders 
 as to their rank. Again, there was a bitter schism in the camp 
 growing out of the question of whether all the inhabitants of 
 Knoxville should be massacred or only the men. Besides these 
 things the Indians, passing by a small fort just as the sunrise 
 gun was fired, imagined that their secret advance was discov 
 ered. They halted. In sight was a house occupied by Alex 
 ander Cavet, his household numbering thirteen women and chil 
 dren, and three men. 
 
 Upon this little place the Indians determined to wreak 
 revenge for their disappointment. As a troop of yelling sav 
 ages ran toward the house its defenders fired, killing two and 
 wounding three of the assailants. After a. moment's hesitation 
 a half-breed, who spoke English, called aloud to the garrison for 
 a surrender, and promising that their lives should be spared. 
 The house was at once surrendered. The unhappy and fearful 
 family marched out of the door. They had scarcely looked 
 around when a band of Indians, led by Double Head, fell upon 
 them, and slaughtered all but one boy, who was carried into cap 
 tivity. It had been better that he should have died with his 
 brothers and sisters than have survived for his ultimate fate. 
 The whole place was then given over to the flames. The firing 
 was heard at Knoxville, and the whole town was thrown into 
 a panic. In fact, however, no attack was made. 
 
 This invasion led to a counter invasion on the part of the 
 whites. An expedition of seven hundred mounted men set out 
 against the Indian towns. Estinaula was found deserted. The 
 huts were destroyed, and a camp pitched in the vicinity. 
 
 That night the sentinels heard a peculiar rustling of the 
 high sedge grass. At first they thought it was but the autum 
 nal wind. In a few moments the sound became clearer, and 
 
610 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 they discovered that it was rythmical. In fact, it was caused 
 by the creeping of hundreds of warriors toward the white men's 
 camp. The assailants fired a volley into the camp, but with 
 drew, doing little damage. The next night the whites built 
 large camp-fires, and then withdrew to another position. Again 
 the Indians advanced. Again they fired their volley. This 
 time, however, as the smoke cleared away they saw nothing 
 but the flickering of the camp-fires .and the darkness of the 
 forest beyond. The army pushed on to Etowah, which 
 occupied a position near that of the present city of Rome, 
 Georgia. 
 
 A heavy battle took place at this point. Great numbers of 
 the Indians were killed. The town was burnt, and the object 
 of the expedition was accomplished. This expedition was com 
 manded by Colonel, afterwards Governor, Sexier, the most 
 noted of all the Indian fighters of Tennessee. He was in 
 thirty-five battles, and yet in all his engagements lost only 
 fifty-six men. Such was his strategy. Etowah was his last 
 battle. The Indian wars were drawing to a close. 
 
 On the 22d of April, 1794, the cabin of Dr. Cozby, seven 
 miles above Knoxville, was the scene of an adventure. . Cozby 
 was an expert Indian-fighter. He was always prepared for an 
 attack, and knew every sign of an approaching enemy. On the 
 evening in question he noticed a disturbance among his animals. 
 A few moments later, he discovered twenty warriors stealthily 
 surrounding his house. The doors were closed and barred. 
 Cozby took his two guns, and, placing himself at a port-hole, 
 issued commands in a loud voice to a lot of imaginary soldiers. 
 The Indians, supposing the house strongly garrisoned, gradually 
 sneaked away. 
 
 Two miles further on lived William Casteel and his family. 
 In the morning a neighbor, Anthony Reagan, went to Casteel's 
 cabin to go hunting with him, as had been arranged. He went 
 in. Lying near the fire-place, he was horrified to discover his 
 friend Casteel, half-dressed, and with his brains scattered over 
 
THE TROUBLES OF THE TENNESSEEANS. 611 
 
 the floor by a blow from a war-club. Near by lay his wife, 
 with a butcher-knife sticking in her side, one hand cut off, and 
 the other arm broken. At her feet lay a bloody ax, with which 
 she had defended herself to the last. In the bed lay one of the 
 daughters. A huge knife had been thrust through the cover into 
 her heart. In the corner lay the mangled body of a babe, and 
 another daughter, ten years old, lay on the floor bleeding from 
 six wounds. As the man's horrified gaze swept around the 
 apartment of death, an awful fear entered into and possessed 
 him. He fled. When he reached the nearest house he had 
 become cooler. He had recovered his senses. 
 
 A company of neighbors assembled. Armed with guns and 
 knives, and examining with suspicion every clustering thicket, 
 they made their way to the scene of the tragedy. A grave was 
 dug. The corpses, one by one, were carried out by reverent 
 hands and laid away. When they picked up the body of Eliz 
 abeth, the daughter wounded in six places, the girl moaned. 
 Seeing signs of life, the neighbors at once carried her to one of 
 their houses. After two years she recovered, and lived without 
 a scalp to an extreme age. 
 
 In September, 1794, a large volunteer army assembled at 
 Knoxville for what was designed, and indeed proved to be, the 
 last great Indian expedition within the borders of what is now 
 the State of Tennessee. Colonel Whitley, of Kentucky, who had 
 gallantly brought a company of men from his own State to the 
 assistance of his distressed neighbors, was chosen commander- 
 in-chief. The guide of the expedition was Joseph Brown, who 
 was about to fulfill the prophecy of the old squaw, that he 
 would live to lead an army against Nickajack. So successfully 
 and so secretly did he perform his task, that the entire town of 
 Nickajack fell into the hands of the whites with scarcely the 
 loss of a man. Fifty-five warriors were killed in the place. Some 
 hastily jumped into their canoes and sought to escape. Others 
 swam the river. But nearly all were killed. 
 
 A mile above Nickajack stood the larger village of Running 
 34 
 
612 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Water. Thither fled such of the Indians as succeeded in escap 
 ing, where they posted themselves behind rocks on the sides 
 of a mountain, to await the attack. This was made with great 
 skill. The men pushed their way undiscovered, toward the 
 village, through a field of standing corn. At the river bank 
 were six canoes. Twenty-five warriors were standing near by, 
 as if about to embark. A volley from the column in the corn 
 field laid every boasting brave in the lowly dust. 
 
 Another line of men approached the Indian position from 
 another direction. On their way the men passed two cabins, 
 which a detachment was at once detailed to attack. A squaw 
 stood outside of the door to watch. When the whites were 
 discovered, the brave warriors within the cabin gallantly shut 
 and barred the door, leaving the poor squaw outside. She 
 attempted to escape by flight, but after a hard chase was cap 
 tured. She was carried up to the town, and placed with other 
 prisoners in canoes. As the boat in which she was carried was 
 being taken down the river, the squaw loosened her clothes, 
 sprang head foremost into the river, disengaging herself art 
 fully from the encumbrance, leaving the garments floating upon 
 the water. She swam with the grace and swiftness of a fish. 
 A cry went up of " shoot her, shoot her." But the men who 
 were near, admiring her address and agility, were gallant enough 
 to suffer her to escape. 
 
 Another detachment, in command of Joseph Brown, was 
 placed at the mouth of a creek, to cut off the escape of any 
 who should be missed by the two main columns. Colonel 
 Whitley mounted a small swivel-gun on his own riding horse, 
 so that he could wheel and fire in any direction. Nearly all 
 the Indians were killed or captured. Brown was recognized 
 by the captives, and whenever they caught sight of him they 
 gnashed their teeth and lifted up their voices in howls of rage. 
 
 This battle was fought on the 13th of September, 1794. It 
 broke the spirit of the hostile savages, and virtually ended the 
 Indian troubles of Tennessee. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF SPENCER. 613 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY OF SPENCER. 
 
 LIVER M. SPENCER was a boy. The reader 
 would know this from the following story. His 
 home was in Columbia, Ohio, a suburb of Cin 
 cinnati. On the 4th of July, 1791, he was 
 allowed to accompany a party of friends to Port 
 Washington, now Cincinnati, to celebrate the 
 holiday. After the usual sports of a day or 
 two, Spencer, then ten years old, and another 
 boy of eleven, resolved to go home before the rest of the party. 
 Going down to the river, they succeeded in getting a place in 
 another canoe. They had proceeded about a mile when one of 
 the men, who was drunk, was put out of the boat. Spencer 
 becoming frightened at the state of his companions, also de 
 manded to be put on shore. The request was granted. He 
 had proceeded but a little distance when he saw two of the 
 men in the boat fall overboard, and heard two rifle-shots. 
 Turning quickly, he discovered an Indian within ten feet of 
 him, and after a short flight found himself a prisoner. 
 
 The Indians at once started across the country with him, 
 but treated him with some kindness. At night they bound 
 him in a gentle manner, and but for the grief of his childish 
 heart, he might have slept soundly. Meanwhile, unknown to 
 Spencer, the news of his capture had been borne to Fort 
 Washington. One of the occupants of the canoe, Mr. Light, 
 though wounded, had escaped. Another, an old woman named 
 Mrs. Colman, had jumped into the river, and, supported by her 
 
614 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 clothes, had floated down with the current until she was oppo 
 site Cincinnati, where she was rescued. 
 
 For several days Spencer was hurried across the country. 
 When his guards wanted to go hunting, they tied him to a 
 tree, and fastened a large piece of bark over his head to shel 
 ter him from the sun. One day, secured in this way, he 
 managed to get loose. He at once gathered some provision, 
 mounted a horse which the Indians had stolen, and started in 
 the direction of home. The horse proved to be a slow-footed 
 beast, but the boy urged him on unceasingly. At night he 
 dismounted, bent a twig so that it would point in the direc 
 tion he was to take on the following morning, and concealed 
 his horse in the bushes. Boy-like, he was attracted by some 
 raspberries growing near by, and ran around from bush to 
 bush picking them, until he lost the way to where he had 
 left his horse. Finally he made his way back to the animal, 
 and lay down to sleep. 
 
 His rest was not long. In a few moments he heard his cap 
 tors' voices. They were after him. With considerable tact he 
 at once rushed out, surrendered himself, and begged for mercy. 
 After a short altercation the Indians decided not to kill him. 
 but contented themselves with giving him a terrible switching. 
 For the night he was bound tightly to a tree. 
 
 In the morning the journey was renewed, and Spencer was 
 given further cause to reflect on his sin in running away, by 
 being given no breakfast. Later in the day they came to an 
 immense hollow sycamore tree. At the foot was a large open 
 ing, protected by a barricade of logs. From this tree a quan 
 tity of blankets and brass kettles were taken and packed on the 
 horse. On the 13th of July the travelers reached an Indian 
 village at the junction of the Auglaize and Maumee rivers. 
 Here Spencer was adopted into an Indian family, and here he 
 saw Simon Girty, who addressed the boy roughly, telling him 
 that he must never hope to see his home again. 
 
 As the months went by a well-defined purpose arose in the 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF SPENCER. 
 
 615 
 
 boy's heart to make an escape. In order to do this he resolved 
 to labor without ceasing to serve the Indians and gain their 
 confidence. One cold December day he was sent by the old 
 
 SPENCER'S ENCOUNTER WITH THE WILD-CAT. 
 
 squaw with whom he lived to chop some firewood. He took 
 with him into the forest a sharp ax, and was accompanied by 
 a faithful dog. Having prepared a bundle of small wood, he 
 
616 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 was about to swing it over his shoulder, when his dog began 
 to give forth the most lugubrious howls, which were followed 
 by short and furious barks. Seizing his ax, Spencer went 
 toward the dog, and discovered, crouched on the lower limb 
 of a neighboring tree, "a large grayish cat-like animal, ready 
 to spring." 
 
 Spencer knew nothing of the character of the animal. With 
 the natural instinct for conflict which belongs to the pioneer, 
 young or old, he threw a club at the animal. At that instant 
 puss seemed to grow larger. A strange yellow light flamed in 
 her eyes, and her tail waved angrily in the air. There was a 
 hiss, a howl, a shower of dried leaves. The wild-cat and the 
 dog were on the ground together, fighting. The dog did well, 
 but his antagonist, getting her teeth in his nose, was rapidly 
 overcoming his pugnacity, and, indeed, was in a situation to 
 demand and extort an apology for his uncivil treatment. At this 
 point Spencer raised his ax and killed the animal. Taking the 
 body home, it was found to measure four feet from tip to tip. It 
 would probably have killed the boy had he encountered it alone. 
 
 In time Spencer's friends arranged for his ransom. The 
 ruffian, Elliott, of whom we have spoken in other chapters, 
 came after him. On the way the omnipresent Girty met him, 
 told him that Elliott was not going to take him home, but 
 intended to make him his slave, and that he, for his part, 
 intended to mark Spencer by cutting off his ears, so that he 
 would know him again when he met him. Spencer, seeing his 
 danger, ran out of the house, and the threat was not executed. 
 
 On the way north, for Spencer's liberation had to be made 
 through the British commandant at Detroit, he stopped over 
 night in a Wyandot town. A young Indian, much his superior 
 in size and strength, came up and demanded that he should 
 wrestle with him. Spencer reluctantly consented, and succeeded 
 in throwing his antagonist. The young savage, enraged at his 
 want of skill, seized Spencer by the hair, whereupon the* latter 
 proceeded to plant his fist violently in his opponent's stomach. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY OF SPENCER. 
 
 617 
 
 For the moment the trouble was ended and Spencer walked 
 away. Suddenly he was assailed from behind by the cowardly 
 Indian, who gave him a dangerous cut with a knife. An old 
 Indian, however, interfered, drove off the would-be murderer, 
 and bound up the white boy's wounds. After a long and event 
 ful journey, Spencer reached his relatives in Elizabethtown, 
 New Jersey. Thence he made his way back to his parents in 
 the town of Columbia, on the Ohio River. 
 
618 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 
 
 .R to the south, within sound of the restless 
 roar of the Gulf of Mexico, in a country of 
 remarkable fertility, threaded by numberless 
 creeks and rivers, the white man found a great 
 Indian confederacy. This moist region was 
 called, for want of a better name, the Creek 
 Country. In the process of time, the Indians 
 who inhabited it came to be called the Creeks. 
 This nation, thus so unceremoniously christened by the whites, 
 was, in fact, composed of many tribes of Indians. Long before 
 La Salle had paddled his weary way down the Mississippi, the 
 Muscogees, whose original home, according to their traditions, 
 had been in the country of Mexico, had, after long wanderings 
 as far north as the Ohio, finally settled in the region which we 
 know by the nances of Alabama and Mississippi. The Musco 
 gees were warriors. They at once began a series of conquests, 
 and, like Rome^ adopted! , the policy of incorporating the con 
 quered tribes with themselves. 
 
 When theArst bold explorers threaded their way through 
 the tropical forests and the network of lagoons to the towns of 
 this confederacy, they found a people who, in the darkness of 
 their native barbarism, were in a crude way working out for 
 themselves the problem of civilization. Tiaey had fixed rules 
 governing marriage and divorce. They lived i.n houses. They 
 wore clothes. Each town had a separate local government. It 
 had public buildings and pleasure houses. They had fixed 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 621 
 
 maxims and methods of government. They had, moreover, a 
 system of social caste. There were certain families who consti 
 tuted a hereditary nobility. Of these, the family of the Wind 
 ranked first. To it belonged the right of chieftaincy. It was, 
 so to speak, the royal family. Inferior to the family of the 
 Wind was the family of the Bear ; and next in rank was that 
 of the Deer. These three castes managed to absorb all the posi 
 tions of rank and profit. 
 
 At the time of the war of which we are about to write, they 
 had, in addition to their unaided achievements, derived great 
 benefit from intercourse with the white men. Many of them 
 had intermarried. The upper classes had learned to read and 
 write. Many half-breed children had been sent to northern 
 schools for education. The system of a community of property, 
 which is the very core of barbarism, was giving way to the sys 
 tem of individual property. They owned in their own right, 
 horses, houses, looms, farms, and farming implements. They had 
 learned, not merely to trade, but even to manufacture cloth and 
 other articles. All this, too, they had achieved in spite of 
 their fertile soil and the genial climate. History shows that 
 nature prodigal of her gifts, enervates, while a sterile country 
 and vigorous climate stimulate and sharpen the intellect and 
 energies of men. 
 
 The Creeks were treated by the United States Government 
 with justice and fairness. There was no reasonable cause for 
 complaint on either side. 
 
 About 1780 there was born in the Creek nation a child des 
 tined to be known among his own people as Red Eagle. To 
 the whites he was known as William Weatherford. His mother 
 was a princess ; that is, she belonged to the family of the Wind. 
 He was the nephew of Alexander McGillivray, a man of mixed 
 blood, whose genius, shrewdness, and abilities won for him the 
 leading place in the Creek nation. He styled himself Emperor 
 Alexander. One author speaks of him "as a man of towering 
 intellect and vast information, who ruled the Creek country for 
 
622 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a quarter of a century." Another writer says : " He was a 
 man of the highest intellectual abilities, and of wonderful tal 
 ents for intrigue and diplomacy. A more wily Talleyrand never 
 trod the red war-paths of the frontiers, or quaffed the decep 
 tive black drink at sham councils." 
 
 When Charles Weatherford, a shrewd and wily Scotch 
 trader, married the sister of the Emperor Alexander McGilli- 
 vray, he attained at once a rank and influence among the Creeks 
 which few men of the purest Muscogee blood possessed. The 
 Scotchman, while serving the nation, managed to accumulate 
 almost boundless wealth. He lived like a king in his splendid 
 mansion on the banks of the Alabama. Here he had every 
 luxury which money could procure. Troops of negro slaves 
 ministered to himself and to his guests. His table abounded in 
 the rarest tropical fruits, choice game from distant forests, and 
 sparkling liquors, cobweby with age. 
 
 From the spacious verandas which surrounded his palatial 
 home, one looked out over a tropical landscape of surpassing 
 loveliness. The grounds immediately surrounding the house were 
 filled with noble forest trees, from whose branches hung grace 
 ful festoons of southern vines and mosses. Magnolia blossoms 
 showered their fragrance upon the summer air. Wild orange- 
 trees, bearing the emblems of every season of the year, were 
 scattered here and there. Roses and honeysuckles, in wild and 
 negligent profusion, wound their clinging arms in fond embrace 
 about the nearest object of support. Near the house Weather- 
 ford kept the finest race-track in America. To indulge his 
 favorite sport, he imported blooded stock from the most famous 
 stables of Europe. 
 
 Amid these surroundings was born Red Eagle. The son of 
 the wealthiest man in the nation, and by inheritance a chief 
 of the ruling family, he had the best of tutors, and no pains 
 nor expense were spared in his education. He grew up a 
 spoiled child of fortune. He cared nothing for books. His 
 tastes were the offspring of the wild ancestry of his Indian 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 623 
 
 mother. He was fond of every athletic sport. He was a splen 
 did swimmer, a tireless walker, and an unequaled hunter with the 
 bow and the rifle. He was a natural master. From no meeting 
 for athletic sports among the Creek towns was Red Eagle ever 
 absent. No young man iu all the nation could approach him in 
 a foot-race. In games of ball, a sport conducted with such vio 
 lence that broken limbs and even death were not infrequent, 
 he was the acknowledged king. 
 
 While but a child, he displayed the rarest graces of horse 
 manship. No colt was too unruly, no stallion too high-mettled 
 for this adventurous youth to mount and dash in mad career 
 across the country. Such was his perfection as a rider that he 
 seemed almost a part of the animal he rode. An old Indian 
 woman, who knew the young chief in his boyhood, telling of 
 his daring, his skill, his grace as a horseman, said : " The squaws 
 would quit hoeing corn and smile and gaze upon him as he rode 
 by the coi'n-patch." 
 
 These things made Red Eagle the idol of his people. In 
 the wars with the Choctaws and Chickasaws, even before he 
 reached manhood, he displayed the most tireless activity and 
 reckless courage. His name was greeted with enthusiasm as 
 that of the coming chief in every house in the nation. Besides 
 this, he possessed great personal beauty. His figure was sym 
 metrical and imposing, and his countenance that of a born king. 
 He possessed intellectual ability of the highest order. His 
 mind, ignoring trifles, grappled with the most important subjects 
 which agitated his country. 
 
 To all these gifts was added that of eloquence. Red Eagk 
 was the greatest orator that ever lived among the Creeks. It 
 was his ambition from boyhood to become distinguished in coun 
 cil. Lazy and indifferent about his general education, he gave 
 the most persistent attention to the study of declamation and 
 oratory. As he reached maturity, his eloquent voice soon 
 reigned without a rival in the council-hall. His imagination 
 was rich, bold, and vivid ; his manner impressive in the highest 
 
624 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 degree. When unimportant questions were being discussed, 
 Red Eagle looked on with indifference. His lips were sealed. 
 But when great themes agitated the council. Red Eagle, with 
 
 TECUMSEH ENTERING THE COUNCIL. 
 
 his unapproachable power of statement, his wealth of imagery, 
 his burning zeal, took the lead in the debate, and bore down all 
 opposition. His very vices endeared him to the popular heart. 
 Reared in wealth and idleness, the young chief was, it is said, 
 given to many excesses. 
 
 Such was the man, longing for some great popular cause in 
 which to employ his wealth of talents and influence, whom Te- 
 cumseh found when, in 1811, he had arrived, from the far north, 
 in the Creek country, accompanied by thirty warriors. The 
 great chief who dwelt by the waters of the Miami had jour 
 neyed all the way to the mighty confederacy of the south for 
 two purposes. As an agent of the British, he was to incite 
 the southern tribes to join in the approaching war with the 
 Americans. For himself, he came to form a great offensive and 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 625 
 
 defensive alliance of all the Indians of America against the 
 white man. 
 
 On the day when, with great pomp, he entered the council- 
 hall of the Creeks, he called on the red men to abandon the 
 plows and looms and arms of the whites, to burn the garments 
 they had been induced to wear, to trample under foot and forget 
 the lessons and customs which they had been taught by their 
 white foes. He told them that the white men, by teaching 
 them to till the ground, were seeking to weaken and degrade 
 their martial spirit, so that the conquest of their country might 
 be more easy. Then, with impressive gesture and accent, he 
 warned them that, as the whites already held the negroes in 
 bondage, their purpose was, as soon they became strong enough, 
 to reduce the Indians to slavery. 
 
 A prophet accompanied Tecumseh, whose business it was to 
 practice upon the superstition of the people. He told them 
 that the Great Spirit commanded the red man to make war 
 upon the white man. To prove that this message was from the 
 Great Spirit, the prophet promised them a miracle. Whoever 
 fought in the war should come out of it unharmed, while the 
 Americans would be destroyed in impassable morasses with 
 which the Great Spirit would surround them. Besides these 
 methods, Tecumseh employed another. He went among the 
 people, and electioneered with the warriors in person. 
 
 In this way a large part, perhaps a majority, of the Creeks 
 became ready and impatient for a war with the whites. A 
 strong and influential minority, however, refused to yield to 
 Tecumseh's arguments. Among these was Big Warrior. Al 
 though Tecumseh was his honored guest, he obstinately refused 
 to forsake his allegiance. It is said that Tecumseh at last grew 
 so angry with Big Warrior, that he threatened, when he reached 
 Detroit, to stamp his foot on the ground and shake down all the 
 houses in Tookabatcha, and that a few months afterwards an 
 earthquake made the Creeks believe that this threat had been 
 carried out. The wealthier Creeks, who were, of course, a 
 
626 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 minority, having accumulated property, which is the greatest of 
 all conservative forces in society, were strongly opposed to the 
 war. They saw in it nothing to gain, and every thing to lose. 
 
 Among his converts, Tecumseh readily discovered that of 
 all men in the nation Red Eagle was the man for his purpose. 
 His great talents seemed to be lying idle, waiting for some 
 employment worthy of their owner. He was wealthy, and had 
 nothing to gain by commerce with the whites. He was born 
 to fortune, and consequently held his possessions in light 
 esteem. Of wild and undisciplined passions, and full of a lofty 
 patriotism and love of state affairs, he had nursed in his heart 
 for many years a bitter jealousy and overmastering hostility 
 towards the whites. He hated the restraint of law and civil 
 ization. He loved the license and wild liberty of savage life. 
 As his tastes led him to the sports of the forest, he looked 
 with concern on the encroachments of the white men. More 
 over, he seemed to fear that an attempt would be made to 
 reduce his people to slavery like that of the negroes. 
 
 So, after listening to the wily Tecumseh, Red Eagle, who 
 saw in his plans a gratification for his own fierce love for war 
 and a new field for fame, threw himself heart and soul into 
 the enterprise of the northern chieftain. Re-enforced by Red 
 Eagle, Tecumseh found new methods of working upon the 
 Creeks. He directed his prophet to "inspire" some Creeks 
 with prophetic powers. 
 
 A shrewd and unscrupulous half-breed named Francis, was 
 shut up alone in a cabin for ten days, during which time the 
 prophet howled and danced around the building in the most 
 fantastic manner. When the ten days were accomplished, he 
 brought Francis forth, telling the people that he was now 
 blind, but would soon receive his sight back so improved 
 that he could see what was to happen in the future. Fran 
 cis allowed himself to be led around, pretending to stumble 
 over obstacles like a blind man. Suddenly he affirmed that 
 he had received his sight, with the improved quality of 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 627 
 
 prophecy. He, with others inspired in a ; similar manner, worked 
 night and day, practicing all sorts of conjurations in behalf of 
 the war-party. Public feeling among the Creeks was roused 
 to the highest pitch of excitement. The strife of factions 
 became very bitter. The two parties indulged in crimination 
 and recrimination. The Creeks were ready for civil war. 
 
 A spark soon fell in the tinder box. Some Creeks, return 
 ing with Tecumseh to Canada, assaulted a settlement and mur 
 dered seven families. Under the treaty between the Creeks 
 and the United States, the murderers were required to be pun 
 ished. The chiefs of the peace party at once organized bands 
 of warriors for this purpose. The murderers were pursued to 
 their retreats among the most distant tribes, hounded down 
 by the relentless avengers, shot, stabbed, or tomahawked in 
 open fight or by secret stealth wherever found, until the last 
 criminal paid for his fault with the penalty of death. 
 
 This vengeance widened the schism in the Creek nation. 
 The war party retaliated by committing a number of outrages 
 upon the white men. Big Warrior was aroused. He asked for 
 a council with the chiefs of the war party. The request was 
 haughtily refused. Next he sent word to them, saying, that if 
 the miracles which they talked about should also be wrought 
 before the chiefs of the peace party, then the latter would 
 also believe. To this the war Creeks responded by murdering a 
 party of emigrants, by sacking a plantation, and by destroying 
 the property of some of the peaceful Creeks themselves. 
 
 About this time a friendly ^half-breed named McNac was 
 attacked in his home and had his cattle stolen. He saved him 
 self for awhile by hiding in the swamp, but was unluckily cap 
 tured by High Head Jim. McNac lied. He said he belonged 
 to the war-party. He found out that a plot was laid to kill 
 Big Warrior, Captain Isaacs, Mad Dragon's son, and all the 
 chiefs of the peace party. This done, High Head Jim said 
 war was at once to be waged upon the whites. McNac escaped 
 and warned the intended victims. Meanwhile marauding parties 
 
628 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of increasing size roamed over the country, plundering planta 
 tions of whites and peace Indians alike. The settlers resolved 
 on self-defense. An army of two hundred volunteers went out 
 to whip a marauding party of the Creeks. The battle fought 
 is known as the battle of Burnt Corn. The white men were 
 ingloriously whipped. 
 
 At this point in the war Red Eagle wavered. He discov 
 ered that he had failed to carry with him the entire Creek 
 nation. Among the minority who sternly opposed him were 
 many of his friends and relatives. He had met them face to 
 face in the bloody battle of Burnt Corn. His ambition had led 
 him to seek a war with the whites. In fact, it had involved 
 him in a civil war. 
 
 There was yet another motive. He was rich, young, hand 
 some, and a widower. He had a sweetheart, Lucy Cornells, a 
 young girl of mixed blood, the rarest beauty of the Creek 
 nation. Upon her Red Eagle had lavished all the wealth of 
 his passionate affections. In his nature there was much of 
 romance and sentiment. In debate he was the sternest of the- 
 stern. In love he was the tenderest of the tender. He now 
 found that among the Creeks against whom he was about 
 to wage cruel and bloody civil war was the family of his 
 sweetheart. 
 
 On the discovery by McNac of the plot for the assassina 
 tion, the peace Indians and half-breeds were struck with con 
 sternation. Among throngs of others, Lucy Cornells's father fled 
 with his family to take refuge in Fort Minis. Against this very 
 fort Red Eagle was already plotting a campaign. What were 
 all the affairs of state, the triumphs in debate, the glory of the 
 battle-field to Red Eagle, who was as chivalrous as he was 
 brave, if thereby he must lose the affection of the girl he 
 loved? More than this, how could he imperil her life, which 
 was dearer to him than his own, by a siege and probably mas 
 sacre, where she had sought refuge from his own arms. 
 
 These things perplexed Red Eagle. He kept his own 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 629 
 
 counsel, and resolved to seek the advice of his relatives, who 
 belonged to the peace party. He secretly made his way to 
 their homes. He told them that he was in love. A man in 
 love has no reason, no judgment. He is like a diver at the 
 bottom of the ocean. All around him is strange, mysterious, 
 and unreal. All his past life is forgotten. All his plans and 
 hopes for the future are driven from his mind. He even forgets 
 his own identity. Those who are most nearly and dearly related 
 to him seem to him but phantoms. With them he has no real, 
 tangible connection. All thought, all memory, all consciousness 
 are absorbed and concentrated into a single notion, one overmas 
 tering feeling. It is the fact that he is countless fathoms deep 
 beneath the surface where others float. If any emergency 
 befalls, if for any reason he needs help, all he can do is to 
 make the signal of distress to friends above him. This was 
 what Red Eagle did. From the depths of the ocean he pulled 
 the signal rope. 
 
 His friends, like all friends, were ready with advice. They 
 told him to go back, to remove as secretly as possible his fam 
 ily, his negroes, and as much of his live stock as he could, to 
 their plantations, which were in the district of the peace party ; 
 that he should follow them there, and remain quietly at home 
 until the troubles of the nation were over. Red Eagle accepted 
 this advice. *He was like one who is mesmerized. All that is 
 necessary to make the subject do any, particular thing is simply 
 to crook the finger. No matter how ridiculous it may be he will 
 not refuse to obey. He went back to his home. 
 
 But it was now too late for him to retreat. His infidelity 
 had been suspected. In his absence his children and negroes 
 had been seized, and were held as hostages for his fidelity. 
 He was told that if he deserted the cause of the war-party, his 
 children should at once be put to death. 
 
 Red Eagle was now overwhelmed by the very storm which he 
 tad stirred. He had evoked the Genii from their prison, and the 
 spirits would riot down at his bidding. For him there remained 
 
 35 
 
a 
 
 I D 
 
 630 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 but one thing. It was to lead his men to battle. So there was 
 preparation for war. The Creek braves painted themselves in 
 
 gaudy colors, and concentrated in large 
 numbers. The white men, on their part, 
 hastily constructed small forts, or re 
 paired fortifications which were already 
 in existence. Of these, of which there 
 were more than twenty among the set 
 tlements, Fort Mims was the largest and 
 strongest. It was located near the Ala 
 bama River, and a few miles above its 
 junction with the Tombigbee. Samuel 
 
 REGION OF THE CREEK WAR. ,,. , , . . , , , , , 
 
 Minis and his neighbors had constructed 
 
 the fortification, and to that place the people of the surrounding 
 country men, women, and children, white, black, red, and 
 yellow fled for safety. 
 
 General Claiborne, with a small force of volunteers and reg 
 ulars, was the military commander of the whites. To Fort 
 Mims he dispatched Major Beasley, with one hundred and 
 seventy-five men. These, with the militia already there, gave 
 the post a garrison of two hundred and forty-five men. Beas 
 ley was ordered to construct a second stockade around the 
 first, and two additional block-houses, an order which was but 
 partially carried out. 
 
 Altogether there were about five hundred and fifty people 
 in the fort whose lives were committed to the care of Major 
 Beasley. He, however, neglected the proper precautions. He 
 forgot the great responsibility resting on his shoulders. His 
 raw troops, instead of being disciplined by daily drills and 
 military routine, passed their time in playing cards and drink 
 ing. The new line of picketing was left unfinished, as w r ere 
 also the new block-houses. He was even deaf to the plainest 
 warnings of danger. A negro, who had been captured by Red 
 Eagle, escaped, and making his way to Fort Mims with infinite 
 peril, told the commandant that an overwhelming force of 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 631 
 
 Indians were on their way to attack it. Beasley sent out some 
 scouts, but they, as they discovered no Indians in the immediate 
 neighborhood of the fort, returned and told the negro he was a 
 liar. On another day, two negroes, who had been out guarding 
 some cattle, came running to the fort in the greatest terror. 
 They declared that they had seen a large body of Indians. A 
 party of horsemen at once sallied forth to the spot where the 
 negroes averred they had seen the savages. They found the 
 forest silent, and apparently unoccupied. Red Eagle's men had 
 disappeared like phantoms. So the brave horsemen rode back 
 to the fort and denounced the negroes as liars. One of them 
 was at once tied to a whipping-post and flogged, for giving a 
 false alarm. The other was saved for awhile by the inter 
 ference of his master. It is a historical fact that when the 
 attack, which we are about to describe, was made upon the 
 fort, this negro was standing tied, waiting for his whipping. 
 
 When the negro who had been whipped went forth to attend 
 to his cattle, he again saw the Indians, but fearing to return 
 to the fort and give the alarm, lest he should be whipped, he ran 
 away. Such was the work of the commander's folly. 
 
 Red Eagle was a soldier a strategist. Of him, Andrew 
 Jackson afterwards said : " This man is fit to command great 
 armies." The negroes had told the truth. The Indians were 
 hovering near the fort. They had been there for several days, 
 watching their opportunity. Of all this the defenders of the 
 fort were sweetly oblivious. The gates stood open day and 
 night. The wind had blown a heap of sand against the bottom 
 of the gates. This fact, trifling to a careless observer, was 
 really important. The gates could not be closed until the 
 accumulating sand should be shoveled away. This would take 
 time. The gates could not be closed in a hurry. Red Eagle 
 observed the pile of sand, although the commander of the fort 
 did not. The Indian strategist said: "We will wait until the 
 sand is heaped a little higher." The wind was busy while the 
 soldiers slept. The sand heap grew. 
 
632 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 On the morning when the runaway negro had a second time 
 seen Indians Red Eagle lay within a few hundred yards of the 
 fort at the head of a thousand warriors. He was like a wild ani 
 mal watching for its prey, only waiting the proper moment to 
 spring forth. The morning hours passed as usual at the fort. 
 No guards were posted. The men occupied themselves with 
 idle games and disorderly fun. All seemed opportune. Why 
 did not the tiger spring forth from the forest ? The dinner-bell 
 rang in the fort. There was a confused uproar of men, women, 
 and children crowding their way with noisy fun toward the 
 tables of the barracks. There was time for all to be quietly 
 seated at the meal. 
 
 At that moment Red Eagle rose and gave the signal for 
 advance. A line of Indians started forward with the speed of 
 the wind, yet as silent as cats, toward the open gates. They 
 were within ninety feet of them before any one in the fort dis 
 covered the enemy. A few men who happened to be near the 
 gates started to close them. They gave the heavy, wooden 
 portals a sudden pull, but they remained fixed in their place. 
 The sand heaps blown up by the sportive wind were to cost 
 hundreds of lives. In their fright and despair the men tugged 
 furiously and frantically at the gates. They tried to kick the 
 sand away. It was no use. They could not budge the gates. 
 The Indians rushed in with resistless momentum, hurling the 
 little group of white men back from their pathway with the 
 force of an express train. 
 
 The alarm-cry was now heard in every quarter of the fort. 
 Women screamed. Men upset the dinner tables in their frantic 
 haste. Every one seized the nearest weapon, gun, tomahawk, or 
 club, and rushed forth to expel the foe. Luckily there was a 
 second line of picketing, partly completed, back of the gate, 
 which prevented the Indians from making their way at once 
 into the body of the fort. The garrison, in wild confusion, 
 at once commenced a hand-to-hand conflict. Among the first to 
 fall, mortally wounded, was Major Beasley, the careless com- 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 633 
 
 mandant. He refused to be carried to the interior of the fort, 
 preferring to remain where he was, to animate and direct his 
 troops, and by courage to atone for his negligence. He remained 
 in command of his troops until death overtook him. 
 
 Th'e battle was terrible. The men fought like demons. Upon 
 their success in driving the Indians from the fort depended, as 
 they knew, not only their own lives, but those of the women 
 and children who had been placed in their care. It was a fight 
 in which the antagonists sought to club, chop, and hack each 
 other to death. They siezed one another's throat with a vise- 
 like gripe, of which the invincible tenacity relaxed only with 
 death itself. For two hours the conflict raged with stubborn 
 violence. The very women of the fort, horrified by the fate 
 which seemed to await them, armed themselves with such 
 weapons as they could procure, and with wild screams and 
 nervous fury, mingled in the bloody fray. 
 
 In spite of the utmost endeavors of the white men; in 
 spite of the barricade of corpses behind which they fought; in 
 spite of the wounds and flowing blood, the savages gained 
 ground. Outnumbering the garrison three to one, they beat 
 back their foes, overpowering them at point after point. As 
 the Indians advanced into the interior of the fort they fired the 
 buildings. The whites, driven back farther and farther, were 
 forced for their last refuge to a small inclosure called the bas 
 tion. Above the din of the conflict arose in every quarter the 
 warning cry of " To the bastion !" In a moment the inclosure 
 was packed so full of people that no one could move, much less 
 fight. The wails of women mingled with the roar of the flames 
 and the hoarse shouts of the blackened soldiery grew feebler 
 and feebler. 
 
 At this point, Red Eagle rose to the height of heroism. He 
 called upon his warriors to desist. Dismounting from his splen 
 did horse, he placed himself in front of the howling murderers, 
 and sought by imperious commands and earnest appeals to stop 
 the carnage. But for the second time in his life he found that 
 
634 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 he had let loose a storm which he could not control. As he 
 now labored to save the lives of the remaining whites, his fol 
 lowers, with fierce suspicion, told him that not long before he 
 had attempted to desert from the cause, and if he made further 
 efforts in behalf of their enemies that he himself was the first 
 man who should be put to death. Foiled in his best intentions, 
 Red Eagle mounted and rode away from the scene of the mas 
 sacre to calm the raging torrent of his thoughts in solitude. 
 
 The persons remaining in the fort were put to death, making 
 more than five hundred people who perished in the massacre. 
 About twenty of the occupants of the fort succeeded in chop 
 ping a hole through the outer picketing. Their adventures were 
 various. Dr. Thomas G. Holmes wandered five days in swamps 
 and cane-brakes. At last he fired his gun for help. Some white 
 men who were near were so frightened that they themselves 
 took to the swamp and remained for two days. Holmes was 
 finally saved. Lieutenant Chamblies was twice wounded in his 
 flight, but succeeded in concealing himself in a pile of logs. 
 Toward night the lieutenant was horrified to discover a band 
 of Indians surrounding the log-pile and setting fire to it. He 
 remained in his position till he was terribly burned, but was 
 rejoiced to see the Indians leave just as he was forced to crawl 
 from his hiding-place. 
 
 Zachariah Me Girth had left Fort Minis on the morning of 
 the massacre, leaving behind him his wife and children. Hav 
 ing gone but a few miles he heard the roar of battle at the fort, 
 and started back, filled with anxiety concerning his family. 
 Late at night he made his way into the fort, and began an 
 agonizing search among the bodies of the slain for the corpses 
 of his wife and children. By the help of a torch and the glow 
 from the embers of the block-houses, he sought everywhere, 
 turning over and examining the bloody and mangled remains. 
 
 After several hours spent in the sickening task, he was 
 forced to conclude that his family were among those who had 
 been consumed in the buildings. As a matter of fact, a young 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 635 
 
 Indian, recognizing in McGirth's wife a former friend, had res 
 cued her and her children. He told his fellow-warriors that 
 he wished to make them slaves. McGirth, ignorant of all this, 
 caring no longer for life, became the most reckless scout and 
 Indian fighter in the American army. Several months after 
 ward his family were restored to him; it was as if they had 
 arisen from the dead. 
 
 Two days after the massacre of Fort Mims, the prophet 
 Francis, at the head of a band of warriors, assaulted a house 
 and killed twelve persons. A Mrs. Merrill, in the house with 
 an infant in her arms, had been scalped and left for dead. 
 Hours afterward she revived, and attempted to crawl to Fort 
 Sinquefield, two miles away, which she succeeded in doing. At 
 the time, her husband was serving as a volunteer in the army. 
 He .heard of the butchery, receiving information of his wife's 
 supposed death. Before the wife had recovered sufficiently to 
 communicate with her husband, he too, was reported as killed 
 in battle. In fact, he was sent by mistake with the wounded 
 volunteers from Tennessee to that State. 
 
 Years passed by. Mrs. Merrill married again. Late one 
 evening, an emigrant family on their way to Texas asked for 
 a night's lodging at her house. Scarcely had the guests been 
 comfortably seated, when the husband of the emigrant family 
 and the hostess recognized each other. Each had married, sup 
 posing the other dead. In this complication what was to be 
 done? They talked far into the night. Both were happy in 
 their present relations. They at last resolved, not, perhaps, 
 without a shade of regret, to forget the past and live for the 
 future as they were. 
 
 Misfortunes come not as single spies, but in battalions. The 
 dead at Fort Mims were brought to Fort Sinquefield for burial. 
 The people in the fort, unarmed and absorbed in their sorrow, 
 went outside the stockade to a little valley fifty yards away to 
 bury the bodies of their friends. At this moment, Francis, who 
 was shadowing the place, attempted to throw his party of war- 
 
636 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 riors between the white people and the gates. The men suc 
 ceeded in reaching the fort, but the women and children were 
 unfortunately cut off. 
 
 Their condition seemed hopeless. A thrill of horror shot 
 through the hearts of the men at the fort. But life is full of 
 strange coincidences. A young man named Isaac Haden, a hun 
 ter, who kept a large pack of hounds trained to chase and seize 
 any living object upon which their master might set them, 
 appeared at this critical moment returning from a hunt. His 
 
 THE DOG CHARGE. 
 
 quick eye caught the situation. With a cry to his hounds he 
 dashed forward on his horse against the host of Indians. The 
 watchers at the fort and the helpless women without paused in 
 breathless anxiety to witness the strange maneuver. In a 
 moment every one of the sixty ferocious hounds had his fangs 
 fastened in the throat of a savage. The Indians were over 
 whelmed by the strange assault. In the few precious moments 
 the imperiled ones were rescued. Young Haden had his noble 
 horse shot from under him, and had five bullet-holes through 
 his clothes. A Mrs. Phillips was the only one who lost her life. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 
 
 637 
 
 The news of the massacre of Fort Mims spread like wild 
 fire through the south. The entire white population on the 
 Creek frontiers was in danger of instant destruction. To obtain 
 help from the government at Washington, was impossible. It 
 would take a month to send the news, and another one for 
 the soldiers to reach the field of action. In this crisis the 
 warm-hearted south 
 ern States impul 
 sively called for vol 
 unteers to save their 
 friends and neighbors. 
 
 General Andrew 
 Jackson, lying sick 
 and enfeebled on his 
 bed of pain, an 
 nounced that he 
 would start to the 
 front as soon as he 
 could be helped into 
 a saddle. He was 
 yet a sick man, pale 
 and emaciated, when, 
 under the inspiration 
 of his lofty will, he 
 started to meet the army of volunteers which had been raised 
 for him. Arrived there, he found one thousand raw troops, 
 completely without provision for the expedition into the Indian 
 country. Nevertheless, with or without food, he determined to 
 inarch. In a single day the army constructed a supply post, 
 called Fort Deposit, on Thompson's creek. During the march 
 southward the men seem to have subsisted almost entirely upon 
 the zeal and enthusiasm of Jackson's eloquent addresses, which 
 were issued to the men several times a day. 
 
 During the night of the 2d of November Jackson prepared 
 to assault the Indian town of Tallushatchee. The tw*o wings 
 
 ANDREW JACKSON. 
 
638 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 of the army encircled the town on either side. At sunrise two 
 companies were thrown forward into the circle. This at once 
 brought on the battle. It raged with great fury. That victory 
 belonged to the Americans was very soon evident. But the 
 Indians refused to fly or accept quarter. Again and again, 
 parties of braves, and even single warriors were urged to throw 
 down their arms and submit. But with a heroism which rivaled 
 that of Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans, every offer 
 of mercy was rejected. Every warrior fought the overwhelm 
 ing hosts which surrounded him as long as he could stand or 
 sit. Even in the agonies of death the Creek braves would shoot 
 malignant and unforgiving glances at their conquering foe, and 
 feebly attempt to hurl a tomahawk at the nearest white man. 
 They forced the Americans to turn the battle into a butchery. 
 Every brave in the village was killed, the total falling not 
 short of two hundred. History presents no more complete 
 destruction of any fighting force. 
 
 Still no provisions reached the army. With unflinching 
 boldness Jackson continued his march to the south. He built 
 another post, Fort Strother, for the reception of provisions. It 
 was literally an empty mockery. There were no provisions. 
 Here word reached Jackson that some friendly Indians were 
 besieged at Talladega. The ingenuity of the messenger who 
 brought the news, in effecting his escape from the beleaguered 
 town, has not been equaled among all the marvelous exploits 
 heretofore recited in these pages. He was a boy. He had cov 
 ered himself with the skin of a large hog, and had wandered 
 about on all fours, as if hunting for roots. At times, when he 
 came near to hostile Indians, he would lie down comfortably 
 in a mud puddle. In this way he had escaped detection. 
 
 Once more Jackson marched his army into the presence of 
 an enemy, without supplies. The battle of Talladega was sim 
 ilar in plan to its predecessor, and about as successful. Two 
 hundred and ninety-nine Indian warriors were counted dead 
 upon the ground. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 639 
 
 More extensive operations were absolutely impossible until 
 food could be procured by Jackson for his starving men. While 
 his army lay idle at Fort Strother, Red Eagle's superb genius 
 for war was active in other parts of the field. There was dan 
 ger of famine among the white settlers, unless the crops could 
 be gathered from the fields. To do this it was necessary, tem 
 porarily at least, to rid the country of hostile prowlers. In this 
 way came about the celebrated " Canoe Fight." A force of sev 
 enty-two men, under Captain Sam Dale, undertook to rid a par 
 ticular section of the country of Indians. Dale was marching 
 his command along the south-east bank of the Alabama River, 
 when, dissatisfied at finding no traces of Indians, he determined 
 to cross the river. The job was by no means a small one. Only 
 two little canoes were to be had. The river was a quarter of 
 a mile wide. 
 
 At last, however, only twelve men, together with Dale, 
 remained on the east bank of the river. While waiting their 
 turn for transportation, the little company was startled by a 
 volley of bullets from a large force -of Indians. Dale's men 
 concealed themselves in the dense undergrowth of the river 
 bank, and behind trees. The situation was dangerous. Should 
 the savages suspect, from the infrequency of the fire, the small- 
 ness of their numbers, they would quickly rush down and over 
 power them. 
 
 Escape to the other side was the one thing to be desired. 
 For this purpose, however, they had only one canoe, the other 
 being across the river. This boat would hold but six men, and 
 the movement would involve a separation of the company. The 
 Indians on shore, seeing the canoe crossing the river, would at 
 once suspect the smallness of the force opposed to them, and 
 would quickly overpower those who were left behind. 
 
 Dale signaled to his men on the other side for assistance. 
 Eight of them started to cross the river, but discovering the 
 immense strength of the Indian force, hastily put back to shore. 
 A new danger now assailed the little band. A large canoe, 
 
640 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 containing eleven warriors, was discovered putting out from the 
 bank and making its way down to a point opposite Dale's posi 
 tion. In a few moments they attempted to land. 
 
 Dale's party, attacked from front and rear, fought in both 
 directions. Two of the warriors in the canoe attempted to swim 
 ashore. One was shot through the top of the head. The other, 
 reached the shore and was met by Austill. At the moment of 
 the encounter Austill slipped and fell into the water. The sav 
 age cast one keen glance at the little force, and then made his 
 escape. Dale at once saw that it was but a matter of a few 
 minutes before the whole Indian force, informed of the weak 
 ness of his company, would be upon them. 
 
 In this emergency Dale announced a desperate resolution. 
 He called for volunteers to man the little canoe which they had, 
 and attack the Indian canoe party. For this perilous attempt 
 three men, James Smith, Jeremiah Austill, and a large negro 
 named Csesar, offered their sendees. With them Dale sprang 
 into the canoe. The negro acted as steersman, while the white 
 men plied the paddles. When half-way toward the hostile canoe 
 with its nine occupants, Dale's men found to their dismay that 
 their powder was wet and their guns useless. 
 
 By strange fortune the Indians in the canoe had exhausted 
 their ammunition. There remained nothing but a hand to hand 
 fight between four men on the one hand and nine on the other. 
 The negro threw the little canoe alongside of the larger, and 
 held it firmly there. The Indians sprang to their feet, prepared 
 with knives and clubs to resist the assault. At the moment of 
 contact Dale leaped into the larger canoe. While Austill and 
 Smith beat the Indians with clubbed guns, Dale, with incon 
 ceivable quickness, gave the one nearest him a powerful shove, 
 throwing him backwards against his neighbor, he in turn falling 
 upon the third Indian, and so on, until every savage in the boat 
 had lost his balance, and all were floundering together in the 
 bottom. Dale seized the advantage, clubbing out the brains of 
 savage after savage, and throwing their corpses into the river. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 
 
 641 
 
 The last Indian was an old friend of Dale. The latter 
 hesitated, and was about to lower his weapon, when the 
 savage attempted to grapple with him. Dale was too quick. 
 Stepping back, 
 with a single 
 blow he killed 
 his antagonist. 
 In less than 
 two minutes 
 from the time 
 the boats came 
 alongside of 
 each other 
 every one of 
 the nine In 
 dians was a 
 corpse, floating 
 down with the 
 current toward 
 the vast and 
 lonely gulf. Of 
 the white men, 
 Austill alone 
 was wounded. 
 
 With swift 
 strokes of the 
 paddles the 
 two canoes 
 were brought 
 back to the 
 
 shore, the remaining men taken on board, and an escape made 
 to the opposite side of the river amid a heavy fire from the 
 Indians. 
 
 On the 23d of December, 1813, Red Eagle, with a large 
 force of Indians, awaited at Holy Ground an assault from Gen- 
 
 RED EAGLE'S LEAP. 
 
642 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 eral Claiborne. The spot was admirably chosen for defense. 
 It was a high bluff, surrounded on the land side by marshes 
 and ravines, on the eastern side of the Alabama River, just 
 below what is now Powell's Ferry, in Lowndes county, Ala 
 bama. To the natural strength of the place was added that of 
 heavy log fortifications. 
 
 The assault by the Americans was a comparative failure, 
 as the Indians escaped by hundreds. Red Eagle, the last to 
 leave the place, was almost on the point of being captured. 
 Mounted on a gray horse of magnificent speed and endurance, 
 he galloped rapidly toward a point where the bluff was but 
 fifteen feet high. Over this perpendicular precipice wildly 
 dashed the gallant rider and his noble steed. They both dis 
 appeared beneath the waves of the river, but in a few moments 
 Red Eagle was seen, far out in the current of the river, to emerge 
 from the depths, still on his horse which bravely bore him to 
 the opposite shore. 
 
 During the time of the incidents which we have been relat 
 ing, General Jackson had a series of troubles with his army, 
 which developed the incomparable metal of the man, and have 
 been admired and laughed at by several generations of men. 
 While detained at Fort Strother, a mutinous spirit developed 
 itself among the men, who, on account of the lack of provisions, 
 threatened to disband. One morning Jackson was informed 
 that the militia regiment intended to march home in a body. 
 Jackson at once placed himself at the head of the volunteers 
 and confronted the militia, telling them that they could march 
 home only by cutting their way through his lines. This was 
 more than the militia-men had counted on. They yielded. 
 
 But the volunteers were scarcely less discontented than the 
 militia. That night they themselves resolved to go home. In 
 the morning Jackson reversed the plan of the previous day. He 
 placed the militia in front of the volunteers, and told them that 
 their way home lay through the ranks. The joke was so rich 
 that, for the time being, the trouble blew over. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 643 
 
 Great was the distress from want of food. A soldier passed 
 General Jackson and saw that he was eating something. He 
 mutinously demanded that he should have a share of it. u Will 
 ingly," replied Jackson, and thrusting his hand into his pocket, 
 offered the man some acorns. For some days they had been his 
 only food. 
 
 At last, however, Jackson was left without any supporters. 
 The entire army resolved that, if provisions did not come within 
 two days, they would go home. They, however, promised that 
 if the provision train was met they would return. On the 
 appointed day the men marched away. Jackson went after 
 them, and begged for volunteers to remain with him. To this 
 appeal one hundred and nine men responded. 
 
 Twelve miles from the fort the army met the provision train. 
 The men were furnished ample supplies of food. But with 
 mouths and stomachs full of meat they determined, in spite of 
 their promise, to return home. Jackson's rage was terrible. His 
 left arm was still in a sling. He was more emaciated than when 
 he had left his sick-bed. Snatching a musket from a man, he 
 planted himself in front of the column of mutineers and broke 
 forth into a wild storm of vituperation. He told them that they 
 could march home only over his dead body, and that the man 
 who first advanced toward him should be shot dead. Raising 
 his gun to his shoulder, he waited. The troops who would have 
 fought an army were conquered by the will of a single man. 
 The mutineers returned to their camp. 
 
 But the troops shortly devised another expedient. Through 
 a pretended flaw in their contract of enlistment, they claimed 
 that their term had expired. On the afternoon of December 
 9th, they commenced strapping up their knapsacks. Jackson 
 at once caMed on all good soldiers to assist him. The militia 
 were drawn up behind a line of cannon confronting the muti 
 neers. The artillery-men held lighted matches in their hands. 
 Jackson then addressed his rebellious soldiery, and demanded 
 from them an explicit answer, whether they would remain 
 
644 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 peaceably with the army, then, and there. He took out his 
 watch to count the seconds which still remained for the men to 
 answer. If they refused, at a signal the cannon and musketry 
 of the militia-line would leap into flame, and hurl leaden storms 
 of death and destruction into the ranks of the mutineers. The 
 latter made their choice. They decided to remain. A fourth 
 time Jackson had won a battle against his own troops. 
 
 At last Jackson received four thousand fresh recruits from 
 Tennessee. Red Eagle and his army were concentrated in a 
 sort of peninsula, called the Horseshoe, formed by a bend of the 
 Tallapoosa River. The bend inclosed a hundred acres of ground, 
 and at its narrowest part was about three hundred yards wide. 
 Across this narrow place Red Eagle had constructed a strong 
 fortification, which was designed to resist even artillery-fire. 
 Within the inclosure the houses were further protected by 
 embankments of earth. At the bank of the river floated one 
 hundred canoes, as a possible means of retreat. The perfection 
 of these preparations have caused certain writers to imagine 
 that some white engineer had planned them. In fact, they 
 were the conceptions of Red Eagle's brain. 
 
 On the 27th of March, 1814, Jackson found himself in front 
 of this remarkable redoubt with two thousand soldiers. Gen 
 eral Coffee, with seven hundred cavalry and a force of friendly 
 Indians, were thrown across the river to occupy the opposite 
 side of the bend in the rear of the fortification, and cut off 
 retreat. By ten o'clock Coffee occupied this position. Jack 
 son commenced a heavy attack with artillery and musketry 
 upon the front of the breastworks, making but little impres 
 sion. Coffee, without especial direction from his commander, 
 resolved to throw a part of his men across the river in canoes, 
 and by attacking the Indians in the rear, effect a diversion in 
 favor of Jackson. 
 
 After an hour or so of ineffectual fighting, Jackson resolved 
 to storm the works. The men were formed in solid column. 
 This column was a projectile which was expected to force a 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 
 
 645 
 
 PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF THE HORSESHOE. 
 
 breach where the cannon had failed. At the given word the 
 long line of men started forward to hurl themselves against 
 the fortification. In spite of the heavy fire from the enemy, 
 which mowed down their ranks, the Tennesseeans hurried for 
 ward, reached the 
 breastworks, thrust 
 their rifles into 
 the port-holes, and 
 fired at the yelling 
 savages within, or 
 swarmed up and 
 over the barricade. 
 On the top of the 
 breastworks there 
 was many a fierce 
 hand-to-hand en 
 counter the whites fighting to force their way into the fort, 
 the savages struggling to hurl them back. 
 
 In a short time the number of Indians upon the parapet was 
 seen to grow fewer and fewer. Every time an Indian fell his 
 place was taken by two white men. Presently Jackson's troops 
 began to leap down into the inclosure. The works were taken. 
 But the defenders of the place were not conquered. To do that 
 there was only one way. That way was BUTCHERY. It was a 
 repetition of Tallushatchee. No savage would surrender. Again 
 and again Jackson offered quarter, but the brave Creeks only 
 riddled the messengers with bullets. At last, Red Eagle's men, 
 beaten at every point, fled to the fleet of canoes to escape by 
 water. Some did escape, but the majority fell beneath the 
 unerring fire from Coffee's command. One old Indian, terribly 
 wounded, jumped into the river, caught hold of a root in the 
 bottom to keep himself down, and by breathing through the 
 long joint of a cane, one end of which was in his mouth and 
 the other above the water, remained hidden until nightfall, when 
 he rose from his watery bed and made his way into the forest. 
 
 36 
 
646 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 In the morning sixteen warriors were found concealed in a 
 brush heap. They were surrounded by two hundred men, and 
 called upon to surrender. They not only refused, but made 
 insulting and defiant gestures. Of them, it might be said, that 
 they were killed, but not conquered. 
 
 Five hundred and fifty-seven dead warriors were found in 
 the fort. Besides this uncounted numbers had been killed in 
 the river. The power of the Creek nation was crushed. 
 
 It was but a little while till the Creek leaders sent their 
 messengers to Jackson, humbly begging for peace. To these 
 overtures there was one reply : " Bring Red Eagle here, bound 
 hand and foot; then we will talk of peace." It was Jackson's 
 purpose to hang the Indian commander as a punishment for the 
 massacre of Fort Minis. 
 
 Sad-faced messengers bore the dreadful news to Red Eagle. 
 Peace there could be only on condition of the sacrifice of his 
 life. His friends urged him to leave the country. To all such 
 suggestions Red Eagle made no reply, but simply flashed one 
 look of indignation from his proud and scornful eye. Many 
 hours he sat alone in his wigwam, lost in thought. Sometimes 
 he would walk to the door and look out upon the landscape with 
 a sigh. Then he would return and resume his reverie. He coun 
 seled with no one. What was passing in his mind his broken- 
 spirited followers did not suspect. He neither slept nor ate. 
 
 At last Red Eagle seemed to have come to some conclusion. 
 Long before dawn one morning, without vouchsafing a single 
 explanation, he mounted his splendid gray horse, and rode away 
 through the forest in solitude and silence. An observer might 
 have seen his lips tightly compressed. From his eye shone a 
 strange light. He alone knew his destination. 
 
 He took his course toward the camp of Andrew Jackson. 
 When within a few miles of the camp, a noble deer bounded 
 across his path. Quick as thought Red Eagle fired, bringing 
 down the game. He then reloaded his rifle. That load was 
 for the heart of Big Warrior, in case he should offer any insult 
 
THE ROMANCE OF RED EAGLE. 647 
 
 to Red Eagle in the American camp. Laying the deer behind 
 him on his horse, he rode on. He came within sight of an 
 American sentinel, and calmly inquired for General Jackson's 
 head-quarters. He rode up to the door of the tent pointed out 
 to him. Andrew Jackson came forward, and in a spasm of rage 
 demanded of him how he dared to approach him when such a 
 penalty hung over him. To this Red Eagle replied : 
 
 " General Jackson, I am afraid of no man. I am a Creek 
 warrior. For myself I ask no favor. I come to beg mercy for 
 the women and children of my people, who are now starving in 
 the woods without an ear of corn. You may kill me if you 
 wish. I am done fighting. Of my warriors but a few live. 
 The rest have been killed. If I could fight you longer I would, 
 but save the women and children. They have never harmed 
 you. As for me, do with me as you please." 
 
 These words were delivered with a pathos and eloquence 
 which can not be described. A crowd had gathered around to 
 witness the strange scene. As once before in history, here was 
 a man found willing to die for his people. And as on that other 
 occasion, from which over the centuries there comes floating to 
 our ears the cries of the mob, "Crucify him, crucify him," so 
 here the crowd broke out into loud cries of " Kill him, kill him." 
 
 The hero recognizes the hero. There is an affinity between 
 high-born souls. Andrew Jackson rebuked the crowd. He 
 invited his distinguished prisoner into his quarters. After a 
 conversation, Jackson repeated the terms of peace which had 
 been offered, and then said. "You are at liberty to leave if 
 you wish. No opposition shall be made. But if I capture 
 you hereafter, you will be hung." To this Red Eagle replied 
 with burning words. He said that he accepted the terms of 
 peace. That no matter what fate awaited himself, his people 
 would at least be made happier by it. 
 
 The war was ended, but Red Eagle was not hung. Andrew 
 Jackson, instead of offering him punishment afforded him pro 
 tection. His life was saved from the conspiracies of the friendly 
 
648 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Indians in Jackson's camp by the very guards with which his 
 captor had surrounded him. In time he was left free to return 
 to his old home and plantation. But there he found himself 
 surrounded by hosts of implacable enemies, who sought his life. 
 He went to Fort Claiborne, and placed himself under the pro 
 tection of the commanding officer. But here, too, were men in 
 whose breasts rankled the poisoned stings of civil war. He was 
 obliged to leave the fort at night and in secret. He made his 
 way to Jackson's camp, and in time was taken by the American 
 general to his home in Tennessee, where he remained as a guest 
 for nearly a year. 
 
 As time rolled on the hostilites of war died away. Red 
 Eagle returned to his plantation. Again he accumulated prop 
 erty, again he was waited on by troops of slaves, and dispensed 
 magnificent hospitality to his friends. His spirit was unbroken 
 by misfortune, and his commanding genius again asserted itself 
 in the councils of the Creeks. He died at his home on the 9th 
 of March, 1824. Through the intermarriage of his children 
 with the whites Red Eagle's descendants show few traces of 
 their Indian blood. The dark eye, the erect form, and perhaps 
 a slight tinge in the cheek are all that remain as badges of 
 their noble lineage. 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 649 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 
 
 N 1805, Penagashega, or "The Change of 
 Feathers," the prophet of the Shawanese tribe 
 was gathered to his fathers. As soon as the 
 news of the great prophet's death reached a 
 certain Shawanese Indian by the name of Lau- 
 lewasickaw, the latter rolled his eyes piously 
 towards heaven and fell on his face. How long 
 he remained in this position we know not, but 
 when he arose his actions were singular in the extreme. He 
 shunned his former companions, bearing an important and 
 mysterious air, the very personification of solemnity. He 
 proceeded to engage in long and severe fasts. He resorted 
 to hollow trees and desolate caverns, and there kept up pro 
 tracted vigils. 
 
 At last, tired of this sort of thing or having continued it 
 long enough to suit his purposes, he returned to his village, 
 and with mock humility and a dramatic display of great piety, 
 announced that the spirit of prophecy had entered into him, 
 and that he would no longer be known as Penagashega, but as 
 Tenshacutawan. This startling announcement certainly so over 
 whelms the reader with astonishment and admiration, that we 
 at once hurry to satisfy the curiosity thus aroused by an expla 
 nation of the causes and meaning of this move on the part 
 of our friend, whom we will henceforth know simply as " The 
 Prophet." 
 
 According to his own story, the Prophet was descended from 
 
650 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a great Creek warrior, his grandfather. On a certain occasion,, 
 this esteemed ancestor, then a young and handsome man, had 
 left the villages of his tribe, and gone with the leading men 
 to the city of Charleston to hold a council with the English 
 governor. 
 
 At some of the interviews which took place, the governor's 
 daughter, a young lady of great beauty and spirit, contrived to 
 be present. She had conceived a violent admiration for the 
 Indian character, and had determined to bestow herself upon some 
 lord of the forest. She took occasion one evening to inform her 
 father of this wish, and begged him to select for her a suitable 
 husband from the noble array of chiefs then in Charleston. 
 Ridicule, argument, entreaties, and tears were of no avail to 
 shake the resolute girl in her purpose. 
 
 On the following morning, the governor, pale from loss of 
 sleep, inquired of the Indians which of their number was the 
 most expert hunter. Of course the entire company pointed out 
 the modest young warrior who was destined to become the 
 grandfather of the Prophet, and to hand down to his descend 
 ant that characteristic modesty which was so conspicuously 
 absent from the latter. After further interviews with his 
 daughter, the governor announced to the council of Creeks that 
 his daughter was disposed to marry one of their number. Sig 
 nificantly pointing toward the illustrious individual of whom 
 we have spoken, he announced that his own consent was 
 already given. 
 
 The chiefs were naturally incredulous. Their doubts, how 
 ever, were dispelled by the earnestness of the governor and the 
 evident anxiety of the young lady. Satisfied on this point, the 
 Creeks at once began to labor with the young chief. Their 
 arguments, re-enforced by his native gallantry, soon won the 
 day, and the young warrior announced his satisfaction with the 
 arrangement, and proceeded to give the young lady a hearty 
 embrace, to which she seemed perfectly agreeable. He was 
 immediately conducted to another apartment, where he 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 651 
 
 disrobed of the Indian costume by a train of black servants 
 and clad in a new suit. The marriage ceremony was at once 
 performed. 
 
 The Creeks returned to their homes, but the young warrior 
 remained in Charleston with his wife. In time there were born 
 to him two (laughters and a son. At the birth of the latter, 
 the old governor caused a round of thirty guns to be fired. At 
 the age of eight years, the boy's father died, and he was taken 
 charge of by the governor. The Creeks frequently visited him, 
 and he in turn from time to time was permitted to make long 
 stays among the people of his father. Gradually, he adopted 
 their dress, customs, and language. There came a time when 
 he refused to return to the whites, and ever afterward lived 
 among the Indians. "This," says the Prophet, "was my father." 
 
 However truly our friend the Prophet foretold the future, it 
 is certain that he lied about the past. His father and mother 
 were, in all probability, of the purest Shawanese blood. This 
 tribe was the most restless of all the American Indians. Tra 
 dition says that they are the descendants of the famous Eries. 
 At different times we find them living on the Susquehanna 
 Elver; at the Suwanee River in Florida, giving their name to 
 it ; on the Cumberland, in Kentucky ; in the Wyoming valley, 
 in Pennsylvania, and on the Wabash in Indiana. The Proph 
 et's family removed from Florida to the north side of the Ohio 
 River about the middle of the eighteenth century. 
 
 The Prophet was the youngest of six sons. He passed his 
 boyhood like any other young Indian, in the wigwams and 
 hunting-grounds of his people. He was more distinguished for 
 intrigue and craft than for skill as a hunter or bravery as a 
 warrior. He was a great braggart, telling no end of yarns of 
 his great achievements. Possessing a shrewd insight into char 
 acter, and never missing an opportunity to impress upon his 
 people his vast importance and ability, he, in spite of his lazi 
 ness and natural cowardice, managed to maintain a fairly cred 
 itable position in his tribe. But for his older brother, or as some 
 
652 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 will have it his twin, known everywhere as TECUMSEH, or The 
 Shooting Star, he would probably have remained in obscurity. 
 Tecumseh was born about 1768, after his parents had re 
 moved to Ohio. His father's death occurring when he was but 
 six years old, he was placed under the charge of his eldest 
 
 brother, Cheeseekau. The lat 
 ter was a brave man, of noble 
 character. His chief occupa 
 tion and care was the proper 
 training of the young Tecum 
 seh, who was early recognized 
 as the hope of the family. It 
 was Cheeseekau who taught 
 the fatherless boy to hunt, who 
 led him to battle, who in 
 structed him in all the ath 
 letic exercises, and who, by 
 constant and zealous labor, 
 imbued his mind with a love 
 TECUMSEH. for truth, a ready generosity, 
 
 a manly courage in battle, and a dignified fortitude in suffering. 
 It was Cheeseekau who taught him, while but a boy, to use 
 the bow and arrow with a skill which far exceeded that pos 
 sessed by any other Indian boy of the tribe. It was this same 
 elder brother who drilled him in the art of eloquence, and who 
 wrought into his mind the idea which afterwards became the 
 inspiration of the great chieftain the idea of the salvation of 
 his people from the white man. 
 
 There were other children of this interesting family. Of 
 these we have time to mention only Tecumseh's sister, Tecuma- 
 pease. She was sensible, kind-hearted, and intelligent. Between 
 her and her brother there existed the warmest affection. She 
 was always his favorite. The first fruits of the chase belonged 
 to Tecumapease. The choicest presents of the white man to 
 Tecumseh became trophies for his sister. 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 653 
 
 Educated by the care of his elder brother, and cherished by 
 the affection of a noble sister, Tecumseh grew to manhood. His 
 ruling passion, even in his earlier years, is said to have been 
 war. Among his companions he was easily the leader. Mimic 
 combats and sham battles were his favorite sports. While his 
 brother, the Prophet, remained at home engaged in idle and dis 
 reputable intrigues, Tecumseh followed the hunters in their 
 chase and the war-parties on their way to battle. 
 
 As may be imagined, the Indian warfare which raged during 
 all his earlier years made a profound impression on his mind. 
 In childhood he sat around the camp-fires, and with earnest look 
 and fascinated attention heard the stories of the Indian conflicts 
 of the Revolutionary War. The battle of Point Pleasant, the 
 murder of Cornstalk, the siege of Wheeling, the innumerable 
 combats which took place around the block-houses of Kentucky, 
 and along the course of the Ohio, the genius of Brant, the mas 
 sacre of the Moravian Indians, the terrible defeat of Crawford 
 these were the things which formed the subjects of excited dis 
 cussions around the camp-fires, where were faithfully reported, 
 with vivid description and animated gesture, the details of every 
 combat. These were the things upon which the youthful imag 
 ination of Tecumseh was nourished. 
 
 In his lonely chase he revolved in his mind the things which 
 he had heard. With clenched fist and determined countenance, 
 he brooded over the wrongs of the white man to his people. 
 There came to him, too, stories of the great Pontiac and his 
 wonderful conspiracy the plan a ruin, and its creator an out 
 cast before Tecumseh had drawn the breath of life. 
 
 The years passed by, and the terrible warfare with the white 
 man raged without abatement. In this, as a matter of course, 
 Tecumseh took a part. He is said to have fled in fright during 
 the first battle at which he was present. The same story is 
 related of Frederick the Great. Certain it is that Tecumseh 
 never again was guilty of any such weakness. At another time 
 he participated in an attack on a boat descending the Ohio River. 
 
654 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 After the battle a captive was burned to death. Tecumseh 
 had never seen any thing of the kind before. He broke forth 
 into a storm of denunciation at the fiendish practice. From 
 that time forth no prisoners were buriied by any war party of 
 which Tecumseh was a member. 
 
 When he was nineteen years of age Tecumseh and Cheesee- 
 kau took a long journey to the south. This the elder brother 
 believed would tend to enlarge the understanding of his pupil, 
 and enrich his expanding mind with general ideas. Their trav 
 els reached as far as the Creek country. There they found the 
 Cherokees engaged in a war with the whites. 
 
 The two brothers from the hunting grounds of the north at 
 once enlisted in the struggle. In an attack on a certain fort 
 Cheeseekau led the charge. Just before the attack he told his 
 followers that in the conflict he would be shot in the forehead 
 and killed. The thing turned out as he had prophesied. He 
 fell, pierced by a bullet midway between the eyes. As he sank, 
 mortally wounded, upon the battle-field, he exclaimed with his 
 expiring breath, "Happy am I to thus fall in battle, and not 
 die in a wigwam like an old squaw." The Indians, panic- 
 stricken at the fall of their leader, as well as at the fulfillment 
 of the prophecy, fled in all directions. 
 
 Tecumseh seems to have suddenly become a man. The 
 death of his brother threw him at once on his own resources. 
 The band of warriors who had followed Cheeseekau all the way 
 from the north, chose Tecumseh as their leader. To show him 
 self worthy of this honor Tecumseh took ten men and went to 
 the nearest white settlement, attacked and killed all the men, 
 and took the women and children prisoners. He remained two 
 years in the south, learning many languages, and becoming 
 acquainted with many chiefs. During most of this time he was 
 engaged in the warfare with the white man. No expedition or 
 foray was thought complete without Tecumseh. His military 
 genius won him great renown. One night Tecumseh, with a 
 dozen warriors, was encamped on the Alabama River. All of 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 655 
 
 the men had lain down for the night except Tecumseh, who 
 was dressing some meat by the fire. At that moment the camp 
 was attacked by thirty white men. With a shrill cry Tecumseh 
 roused every warrior to his feet. Their leader at their head, 
 the Indians rushed furiously toward a certain point in the cir 
 cle formed by their foes. Two white men were killed outright, 
 and the others, giving way before the impetuous charge, suffered 
 Tecumseh and his band to break through, and make their way 
 to their boats. 
 
 At the end of two years the young Tecumseh, now renowned 
 for his martial feats, returned to his own people. He arrived 
 in time to take part in the defeat of General St. Clair. In the 
 war during 1794, when General Wayne led his triumphant expe 
 dition into the heart of the Indian country, Tecumseh became 
 quite prominent for a young chief. He joined in an Indian 
 attack on Fort Recovery. Ninety riflemen and fifty dragoons, 
 having just escorted a supply train to the fort, were returning 
 to the main army. Upon these the Indians precipitated them 
 selves with great fury. Numbers of the white men were killed, 
 and the rest fled toward the fort, and many succeeded in reach 
 ing it. The Indians then attacked the fort, but after two days 
 withdrew without having effected their object. 
 
 Tecumseh was also present at the battle of Fallen Timbers, 
 a name which it took from the fact that the battle-field was 
 covered with fallen forest trees, wrecked by some tornado. 
 All the world knows that in this battle Mad Anthony Wayne 
 crushed the Indian powers of the Ohio valley. One incident 
 shows that Tecumseh was still young. In the excitement of 
 the fray he rammed a bullet into his gun without first inserting 
 a charge of powder, thus losing the use of the weapon. Driven 
 to the rear by the advancing enemy, he obtained a fowling-piece, 
 which he used with considerable effect. As the Indians began 
 to fly he exerted all his influence and every effort to rally them, 
 and twice succeeded in making a stand with a handful of Shaw- 
 anese. At last he, with the others, was compelled to retreat. 
 
656 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Tecumseh did not attend the peace council at Greenville. 
 He remained at home in his wigwam, sullen and angry. In the 
 following year he gathered about him a band of followers, call 
 ing himself its chief. This new tribe was migratory, like all 
 the Shawanese. One crop of corn was raised on the shores of 
 the great Miami, another was raised near the Whitewater River. 
 In 1798, the Dela wares, residing on White River, in Indiana, 
 invited Tecumseh and his tribe to come and dwell with them. 
 This invitation was accepted, and for several years Tecumseh 
 kept his head-quarters at that place. 
 
 Numberless incidents are related of Tecumseh about this 
 time. He was a great hunter, partly as a matter of sport, 
 and partly because it enabled him to give the highly prized 
 venison to the sick and poor of his tribe. One day a crowd of 
 young Shawanese wagered him that each of them could kill 
 as many deer in a three days' hunt as he. Tecumseh quietly 
 accepted the challenge, and the hunters made their preparations 
 that evening for a start before daylight. The three days ran 
 by, and the crowd of boasters once more assembled around the 
 camp-fire of their village. The largest number of deer-skins 
 brought in by any one brave was twelve. Tecumseh brought 
 with him thirty. 
 
 In 1803, Captain Herrod, who lived sixteen miles north-west 
 of Chillicothe, while felling a tree in the forest, was shot by an 
 unknown foe. Herrod was greatly beloved, and the whole 
 valley of the Scioto was thrown into a panic. Bands of white 
 men, suspecting the murder to have been the work of an Indian, 
 organized for revenge. Wawillaway, an old Shawanese chief, 
 and a great friend of the whites, was returning from one of the 
 settlements where he had been trading his skins. At a spot in 
 the forest, near the cabin of a hunter named Wolf, Wawillaway, 
 a brave and intelligent Indian, and much respected by the 
 whites, was confronted by Wolf and his hired man. The Indian 
 shook hands with the men cordially, and was greeted in the 
 same manner. The trio smoked the peace pipe, and, violence on 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 659 
 
 either side seemed not to be thought of. After a while Wolf 
 proposed that they trade guns. While examining the Indian's 
 weapon, the white man secretly removed the priming and then 
 handed it back, saying he would not trade. Wolf's manner 
 then changed, and he asked Wawillaway if the Indians had 
 begun war. " No, no," said the chief, " the Indians and white 
 men are now all brothers." The conversation then turned on 
 the murder of Herrod, of which Wawillaway had not heard. 
 Wolf charged that it was the work of the Indians. The chief 
 replied that he might have been killed by some white enemy. 
 He then shook hands, and turned to go, when Wolf fired from 
 behind, inflicting a mortal wound. The brave Shawanese turned 
 upon his assailants, killed one, and wounded the other. Ex 
 hausted by his efforts, and mortally wounded, he fell dead. 
 
 This occurrence operated to inflame the whole country, and 
 a frontier war seemed imminent. A company of prominent 
 citizens, in the hope of quieting matters, rode to Green ville r 
 Ohio, in the Indian country, where they found Tecumseh with 
 a large body of Indian^. A council was held, and the whites 
 candidly related all the circumstances connected with the mur 
 der of Wawillaway. After some hesitation, the Indians accepted 
 the explanation, and declared their intention of abiding by the 
 treaty of Greenville. This, however, was not enough. Tecum 
 seh agreed to go to Chillicothe and exert his influence in behalf 
 of peace. In the council held at that place Tecumseh fulfilled 
 his promise in a speech of great power and eloquence, which 
 effectually quieted the disturbance. 
 
 One incident connected with the murder of Wawillaway 
 deserves mention. His two sons vowed vengeance <upon Wolf. 
 The latter fled to Kentucky, and employed an agent to nego 
 tiate with his enemies. After much debate and delay, the two 
 Indians agreed, for the consideration of a horse and a new 
 saddle, bridle, and gun apiece, to bury the hatchet. On an 
 appointed day, the settlers from far and near came together to 
 witness the fulfillment of this contract. In the midst of a 
 
660 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 hollow square stood Wolf, with his horses and their trappings. 
 Opposite him stood the two young Indians. The latter lifted 
 their hands toward heaven, calling on the Great Spirit to avenge 
 the wrong which they had suffered, and at the same time to wit 
 ness the sincerity of their forgiveness of their father's murderer. 
 They took Wolf by the hand, and the three sat down together 
 to smoke the calumet of peace. The two parties to this singular 
 contract were good friends ever afterward. 
 
 It is to another class of events, however, that we must look 
 to get glimpses of the motives and ideas of Tecnmseh's interior 
 life at this time. The early tendency of his mind to dwell upon 
 the wrongs of the white man against his race expressed itself in 
 a long study of the problem as to how the ruin of the red man 
 and his impending extinction might be averted. Tecumseh did 
 not talk much. He kept himself in the background. While 
 the records of these years abound with the names of Blue 
 Jacket, The Owl, and Turkey Foot, that of Tecumseh is not 
 mentioned. There is evidence to show that his mind was 
 actively employed on the great subject which we have mentioned. 
 
 Things were constantly occurring to give him food for 
 thought. The Indian wars were over, but the outrages and 
 wrongs continued. In 1801 William Henry Harrison was 
 appointed governor of that portion of the North-west Territory 
 known as Indiana. At the very first talk which the new gov 
 ernor had with his Indian constituency, the latter had no less 
 than six murders by white men to complain of, the murderers 
 having gone "unwhipt of justice." One of the cases bore heav 
 ily upon the minds of the Indians. Two warriors, a squaw, and 
 some children had been hunting on Blue River, when their 
 camp was discovered by three white men, who approached as 
 friends, and were hospitably entertained. At an opportune 
 moment the villainous visitors had murdered the whole party 
 of Indians, made off with their property, and boasted of their 
 feat in the white settlements without fear of punishment. 
 
 The able and interesting communications of Governor Harri- 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 661 
 
 son are full of details as to the irritation between the whites 
 and the Indians. Besides these open outrages, the poor Indians 
 suffered in many ways. Six thousand gallons of whisky were 
 sold each year to the Indians upon the Wabash, who scarcely 
 numbered six hundred warriors. " Every horror is produced," 
 says Governor Harrison, "among these unhappy people by their 
 intercourse with the whites. This is so certain that I can at 
 once tell, upon looking at an Indian whom I chance to meet, 
 whether he belongs to a neighboring or more distant tribe. The 
 latter is generally well clothed, healthy, and vigorous, the for 
 mer half naked, filthy, and enfeebled by intoxication ; and many 
 of them without arms, excepting a knife, which they carry for 
 the most villainous purposes." 
 
 Among the many murders committed was one at a tavern, 
 where a white man and an Indian, who were drinking together, 
 got into a quarrel. Another white man took the Indian away 
 to a distant house to keep him till he sobered off. The man 
 with whom he had quarreled procured a cudgel, proceeded to 
 the house, forced open the door of the room where the Indian 
 lay, and beat him to death with a club. The murderer was 
 arrested, tried, made no attempt at defense, and yet the jury 
 of white men, although the facts of the murder were proved 
 without contradiction or question, brought in a verdict in five 
 minutes of "not guilty," simply on the ground that the victim 
 was an Indian. 
 
 It is not to be forgotten that agents of the British Gov 
 ernment continually circulated among the Indians, promising 
 help from England in case they would make war upon the 
 whites. This was also an important factor in the problem 
 which was being worked out by Tecumseh. From childhood 
 he had been taught to regard the great Pontiac as the fore 
 most of all the Indian leaders of the past, and he did not fail 
 to see that as Pontiac's scheme hinged upon the assistance of 
 France, so his own plans might be confidently formed with 
 regard to help from England. 
 
662 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The assumption of prophetic powers by Tecumseh's brother, 
 the Prophet, in 1805, was in some way intimately connected 
 with Tecumseh's plans. The chief, assisted by the smaller cun 
 ning of his brother, and thoroughly understanding the Indian 
 character, saw that for the purpose of laying hold of the hearts 
 and minds of the Indians; of uniting scattered and broken tribes 
 in the execution of a single great enterprise ; of the revival of 
 the spirit of his people, among whom the effects of Wayne's 
 victory in the battle of Fallen Timbers were still painfully man 
 ifest, and of the rallying of a wide and enthusiastic following, 
 the Indians could be approached in no way so successfully 
 as through their superstitions. Speaking strictly, Tec-umseh's 
 brother was an Indian Mohammed. 
 
 So the Prophet changed his name. He preached that he 
 was the Anointed of the Great Spirit to reform the manners of 
 the red men. All the innovations in dress and habits which 
 they had learned from the white men must be abandoned. Call 
 ing together a large assembly in northern Ohio of Indians from 
 many tribes, he, in the presence of this company, made an offi 
 cial announcement of his doctrines. He denounced witchcraft 
 and drunkenness. He said that he had been carried up into 
 the clouds, and had been shown the dwelling-place of the devil. 
 Here he had seen the multitudes of those who had died drunk 
 ards in their eternal home. From the mouth of every one of 
 them proceeded flames of fire. 
 
 When he was questioned as to whether he was not a drunk 
 ard himself, he admitted the truth, but said that the fright from 
 his vision prevented him from drinking any more. He attacked 
 the practice of Indian women marrying white men, and also 
 the growing tendency toward individual property. He pro 
 claimed celestial rewards for all who would become his follow 
 ers, and boldly laid claim to the power of foretelling future 
 events, curing sickness, preventing death on the battle-field, and 
 working all sorts of miracles. 
 
 The Prophet was a first-rate orator, though wanting in the 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 663 
 
 courage and truthfulness of his brother. President Jefferson 
 wrote of him as follows : 
 
 " The Wabash Prophet is more rogue than fool, if to be a 
 rogue is not the greatest of all follies. He rose to notice while 
 I was in the administration, and became of course a proper 
 subject for me. The inquiry was made with diligence. His 
 declared object was the reformation of his red brethren and 
 their return to their pristine manners of living. He pretended 
 to be in constant communication with the Great Spirit; that he 
 was instructed by him to make known to the Indians that they 
 were created by him, distinct from the whites, of different 
 natures, for different purposes, and placed under different cir 
 cumstances adapted to their nature and destinies ; that they 
 must return from all the ways of the whites to the habits and 
 opinions of their forefathers ; they must not eat the flesh of 
 hogs, of bullocks, of sheep, etc., the deer and the buffalo having 
 been created for their food. They must not bake bread of 
 wheat, but of Indian corn; they must not wear linen nor 
 woolen, but must dress like their fathers, in the skins and furs 
 of animals ; they must not drink ardent spirits, and I do not 
 remember whether he extended his inhibitions to the gun and 
 gunpowder in favor of the bow and arrow. 
 
 "I concluded from all this that he was a visionary, envel 
 oped in their antiquities, and vainly endeavoring to lead back 
 his brethren to the fancied beatitudes of their golden age. I 
 thought there was little danger of his making many proselytes 
 from the habits and comforts they had learned from the whites 
 to the hardships and privations of savagism, and no great harm 
 if he did. But his followers increased until the British thought 
 him worth corrupting, and found him corruptible. I suppose 
 his views were then changed, but his proceedings in consequence 
 of them were after I left the administration, and are therefore 
 unknown to me ; nor have I ever been informed what were the 
 particular acts on his part which produced an actual commence 
 ment of hostilities on ours. I have no doubt, however, that the 
 
 37 
 
664 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 subsequent are but a chapter apart, like that of Henry and 
 Lord Liverpool in the book of the kings of England." 
 
 At first the following of the Prophet was small, but supersti 
 tion is always ready to take up with new leaders. The bolder 
 the imposition, the more followers it finds. As the stories of the 
 Prophet passed from mouth to mouth, the wonders ascribed to him 
 grew with lightning rapidity. As the tales were borne to the far 
 off shores of Lake Superior, miracles of the most prodigious pro 
 portions were related. Still such reports were not confined to dis 
 tant tribes. The people in the very next wigwam to the Prophet's 
 would affirm with dogged obstinacy, bold faces, and invincible 
 positiveness the details of wonders which the Prophet had 
 wrought, and which they themselves had witnessed. Perhaps 
 an explanation for this may be found in the fact that, hearing 
 others relate stories of the Prophet's miracles, which their cred 
 ulous minds believed, they, in turn, not wishing to be behind the 
 rest, thought it necessary to bear testimony to wonders them 
 selves. In fact, the nearer they were to the Prophet, and the 
 closer their relations with him, the keener would be their pique 
 if they had had no stories to tell. So each of the Prophet's 
 followers strove to surpass the rest in the tales which he could 
 tell of supernatural occurrences. 
 
 All this sort of thing, it will be observed, has for its foun 
 dation a belief that miracles did occur ; in short, in their possi 
 bility and reality as a general thing, the only question being as 
 to the particular details. If such a belief in the possibility of 
 the miracles, and in the fact that they really were occurring, 
 had been absent from the Prophet's followers, it is evident that 
 the above explanation would be incorrect. Some other reason 
 would have to be found to account for the existence of the tes 
 timony to his miracles. Perhaps it would not be necessary to 
 go farther in such a case than to say that the stories were lies. 
 In the present instance, however, there can be no doubt that 
 the followers of the Prophet believed him to be an actual 
 miracle worker, the only question in their minds, if there 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 665 
 
 was any at all, being as to what particular miracles he had 
 wrought. 
 
 It is the invariable course of history for Superstition to go 
 hand in hand with her sisters, Intolerance and Persecution. 
 Such was the case with the Prophet. He instituted a persecu 
 tion against witchcraft. An old woman was denounced as a 
 witch by him, and she was called upon repeatedly to give up 
 her charm and medicine-bag. She was put to the stake and 
 burned. In her fearful agony, hoping for relief, she screamed 
 out that her grandson had her charm. This accusation, instead 
 of saving her, resulted in the young Indian, who was out hunt 
 ing, being forthwith pursued and arrested. He confessed that 
 he had borrowed the charm, and by means of it had flown 
 through the air over Kentucky to the banks of the Mississippi, 
 and back again, before bed-time. He insisted, however, that 
 he had returned the charm to his grandmother, and was finally 
 released. 
 
 On the following day an old chief named Teteboxti was 
 accused of being a wizard. Knowing that his doom was fixed, 
 the old man arrayed himself in his finest clothes, and confronted 
 the grim circle of inquisitors in the council-house. The trial 
 was speedy. The sentence was passed. The old chief calmly 
 assisted in the construction of his own funeral pile. Touched 
 by his white hairs, the council became merciful. They voted 
 to tomahawk him and burn his body afterwards. This was 
 done. Many others met the same fate. 
 
 When Governor Harrison heard of the witchcraft delusion 
 and the far-reaching influence of the Prophet, he was justly 
 alarmed. No one knew better than he the sway of superstition 
 among ignorant minds. He knew that, although the Indians 
 had been quiet for ten years, and could be roused by the call 
 of no ordinary leader, nevertheless deceived by a mask of 
 religion, they might once more plunge the frontiers into bloody 
 war. He wrote them a most earnest letter, urging them to 
 drive out the Prophet, and boldly asserting that the latter was 
 
666 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a fraud. He told the Indians that the pretender could work 
 no miracles. "Ask of him to cause the sun to stand still, the 
 moon to alter its course, the rivers to cease to flow, or the dead 
 to rise from their graves." 
 
 The Prophet took the governor at his word. He announced 
 that on a certain day he would cause darkness to cover the sun. 
 By some means he had learned that a total eclipse of the sun 
 would occur on a certain day. The reports of the prophecy 
 spread to a thousand villages. 
 
 On the appointed day a vast assemblage of Indians from 
 far and near gathered to witness the miracle. They were 
 arranged in a great circle. Painted Ottawas,. wild Ojibwas, 
 fierce Dacotahs, ugly Kickapoos, and curious Illinois, as well as 
 numbers from nearer tribes, were there. Over the multitude 
 hung a deathlike silence. The rattling tongues of the squaws 
 were hushed, and the cheeks of the boldest warriors were 
 blanched with unnatural pallor. 
 
 An hour before npon the Prophet, dressed with dazzling 
 magnificence, came out of his wigwam, and strode with slow 
 and stately steps toward the center of the circle. A slight 
 buzz of apprehension went through the assembly. A few 
 Indian youths ran from one point to another, carrying messages 
 and perfecting details. At last all was ready. The Prophet 
 rose. Extending his right arm and turning his face toward the 
 heavens, he pronounced an unintelligible incantation. As he 
 proceeded a disc of darkness was observed to be slowly appear 
 ing upon the edge of the sun. The eyes of the vast assemblage 
 were turned from the Prophet toward the phenomenon. As the 
 moments progressed the dark spot enlarged. There was a per 
 ceptible diminution of light. 
 
 An hour went by. The Prophet still continued his diablarie. 
 The landscape, before so sunny, took on somber hues of brown. 
 The air was close and still. It grew darker and darker. The 
 multitude was thrilled with awe. They clung closely to one 
 another. Not a few believed that the end of the world was at 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 667 
 
 hand. The deep shadows, the darkened air, the increasing 
 obscurity, which at sunset would have attracted no attention, 
 occurring in the middle of the day, with the sun in high heaven, 
 seemed portentous and awful. The Prophet alone remained 
 calm and unmoved. At the moment of total eclipse, he cried 
 out in a loud voice, " Behold ! did I not prophesy truly ?" 
 
 The reports of this miracle gave a wonderful impulse to the 
 cause of the Prophet. Tecumseh now appeared on the scene. 
 He took care to lend the aid of his powerful name and influ 
 ence to the Prophet by an ostentatious reverence. The latter 
 returned the compliment by pointing out Tecumseh as the 
 leader chosen by the Great Spirit to save the red man. Thus 
 these two brothers acted well their parts. With Tecumseh to 
 do the heavy tragedy, and the Prophet to shift the scenes and 
 throw on the red lights, the drama proceeded well. The 
 Indians were fired with fanaticism and military enthusiasm. 
 
 The whites were alarmed. The ever-increasing throng of 
 savages about Tecumseh and his brother seemed ready to break 
 out into violence. At a council in Ohio, Tecumseh made a 
 three hours' speech. He reviewed all the treaties with the white 
 men, and undertook to prove their nullity. Every appeal which 
 could rouse the passions of his followers and stir their hearts 
 with bitterness and hostility was made. The orator hurled a 
 bold defiance against the enemies of his people. The Indians 
 who were present, excited by his fiery eloquence, were unable 
 to keep their seats. 
 
 While Tecumseh's influence was rising at home, the fame of 
 the Prophet was spreading abroad. In a village of the Ojib- 
 was, on Lake Superior, was an unfortunate captive named John 
 Tanner. He afterwards escaped, and related that one day a 
 strange Indian arrived in the village. For days he preserved 
 the most mysterious silence. Then he told them that he was 
 a messenger from the great Shawanese Prophet. On a certain 
 day the Indians assembled in their council-house. In the midst 
 of the room stood an object in form and size something like a 
 
668 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 prostrate man. Over it was thrown a blanket. The stranger 
 carried four strings of beads, said to be made from the flesh of 
 the Prophet. Each Indian in the assembly took hold of these 
 beads, and by this act adopted the new religion. They also, 
 though with reluctance, gave up their medicine-bags. 
 
 The more fanatical of the Indians went to dwell with the 
 Prophet. In this movement we see a new proof that the laws 
 of society, whether civilized or barbarous, are the same. This 
 great religious uprising among the Indians, and the war which 
 followed it, were parallel to such religious wars as those of 
 Mohammed and of many another leader. Religion, the very 
 genius of which is peace, has more often than any thing else 
 been the cloak of the great soldier. 
 
 The Indians, followers of Tecumseh and the Prophet, who 
 had taken up their residence on the banks of the Wabash, at 
 a village called "The Prophet's Town," soon began to mingle 
 warlike exercises with their religious devotions. The great 
 plan to which Tecumseh had devoted all his genius and ener 
 gies was nothing less than a mighty confederation of the Indian 
 tribes of the continent, who were to unite and drive the white 
 men beyond the Alleghanies. 
 
 As the great scheme had taken shape in his mind its form 
 became less and less that of a mere temporary alliance, such as 
 the immortal Pontiac had sought; and more and more that of a 
 "great and permanent confederation, an empire of red men, of 
 which Tecumseh should be the leader and emperor." For 
 four years he traveled incessantly in the propagation of his 
 enterprise. Now he visited the farthest extremities of Lake 
 Superior. At another time he traversed the unknown region's 
 beyond the Mississippi. Again he labored with the Creeks, 
 securing Red Eagle as his most illustrious convert. 
 
 The United States Government was alarmed. It was 
 reported in the spring of 1810 that Tecumseh controlled 
 more than sixteen hundred warriors. It was evident that the 
 exposed settlements in Indiana were in danger. Shortly, faith- 
 
GENERAL HARRISON AND THE PROPHET. 
 

THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 671 
 
 ful scouts reported that Tecumseh's following numbered three 
 thousand warriors. 
 
 Many messages, threatening on the part of Governor Harri 
 son, deceitful or defiant on the part of Tecumseh, passed back 
 and forth. There were frequent councils. The Indian chief, 
 with forty braves, visited Vincennes to have a talk with Gov 
 ernor Harrison. After much singular dancing and conjuring, 
 Tecumseh began the council. He demanded that the " Seven 
 teen Fires," as he called the United States, give up the lands 
 which they claimed by virtue of treaties with separate tribes. 
 He boldly announced that he intended to go to war unless this 
 was done. To these demands Governor Harrison replied with 
 definite refusals. Tecumseh became so angry, that the peace 
 talk came near ending in a free fight. An adjournment to the 
 following day operated to quiet matters somewhat. 
 
 This council was held on the 12th of August, 1810. It 
 broke up, leaving the Indians irritated and defiant and the white 
 people of Vincennes alarmed and apprehensive. As the year 
 progressed, evidences of Indian hostility became more frequent. 
 Horses were stolen. Here and there murders were committed. 
 The Indians, in the spring of 1811, captured a boat filled with 
 salt. It had been sent up the Wabash for distribution among all 
 the tribes. In the previous year the Prophet had refused to 
 take any salt, sending an insulting message to Governor Harri 
 son. This year he was wiser. He took all the salt, including 
 not only his own, but that which belonged to a dozen other 
 tribes. At a council held afterward, Tecumseh hissed out to 
 General Harrison that he was hard to please, and that he was 
 angry at one time because the Indians took no salt and another 
 year because they did take it. 
 
 The good people at Vincennes lived in the shadow of a con 
 stant fear. They knew that Tecumseh might, at any time, 
 launch his fleet of light canoes at the Prophet's town and, glid 
 ing down on the swift current of the Wabash, suddenly and 
 silently attack Vincennes before a single word of warning could 
 
672 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 reach and rouse their victims. Meanwhile reports continued to 
 come in of Tecumseh's intrigues among distant tribes. 
 
 The last council with Tecumseh was held at Vincennes on 
 the 27th of July, 1811. The chieftain, accompanied by a reti 
 nue of one hundred and seventy-five well-armed Indians, took 
 his position on one side of an arbor prepared for the council, 
 while Governor Harrison, with seventy soldiers, occupied a 
 position opposite. Tecumseh's speech when called upon to sur 
 render a number of Indians, who had murdered some whites, 
 was artful and ingenious. He preached a regular sermon to the 
 white men, on the duty of the forgiveness of injuries. He also 
 begged that nothing be done with the Indians during his absence, 
 which was about to transpire, on a journey to the South. He 
 assured Harrison that his only object was to prevail on all the 
 tribes to unite in the bonds of peace. 
 
 We now know how different was his real mission. Every 
 effort was made by frequent changes of garb, and skillful 
 maneuverings to impress Tecumseh with the military strength of 
 Yincennes. A Pottawatomie, called the Deaf Chief, was pres 
 ent at the council, but unable to hear the proceedings. In the 
 evening he was informed as to what had taken place, and going 
 up to General Harrison, told him that he would have confronted 
 Tecumseh with proofs of his hostility had he understood the 
 latter's pretensions of friendliness. 
 
 This incident was related to Tecumseh, who quietly informed 
 his brother that the Deaf Chief must be put out of the way. 
 The latter heard of the threat. He calmly repaired to his tent, 
 arrayed himself in the full costume of the warrior, sprang into 
 his canoe, and paddled his solitary way to Tecumseh's camp. 
 Arriving in the presence of the great chief, the Indian reproached 
 him bitterly for the threat of assassination, and dared him to 
 an open combat. To every taunt and insult Tecumseh returned 
 majestic indifference. With a war-whoop of defiance, the Indian 
 again betook himself to his canoe. A little later a sharp crack 
 from a rifle was heard from the bushes along the shore. The 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 
 
 673 
 
 boatman might have been seen to fall heavily backwards, and 
 the canoe without a helmsman bearing -the corpse of its owner 
 drifted on into the night. 
 
 In August, the governor again sent a demand for the sur 
 render of some murderers, to which the Indians replied with 
 the usual insulting, refusal. Under strict orders to preserve 
 peace if possible, Governor Harrison resolved to confront the 
 Indians with a strong military force before Tecumseh should 
 return. In order to stop the outrages of which reports were 
 brought in every day, and in compliance with loud demands 
 from the citizens of Vincennes and other settlements, the gov 
 ernor resolved to erect a fort on the Wabash, and break up 
 the large and dangerous assemblage of hostile Indians at the 
 Prophet's town. 
 
 On the 26th of September, 1811, Governor Harrison marched 
 out of Vincennes at the head of nine hundred troops. Six 
 days afterward the army encamped on the eastern bank of the 
 Wabash, at a point two miles above the present bustling city of 
 Terre Haute. 
 Here the men 
 were employed 
 in the construc 
 tion of a log fort, 
 named by the 
 soldiers Fort 
 Harrison. 
 
 Evidence ac 
 cumulated to 
 show that the 
 host of Indians 
 at the Prophet's 
 town, instead of 
 
 submitting on the approach of the army, were preparing to risk 
 a battle. This was expressly contrary to Tecumseh's orders. 
 It seems probable that the Prophet, jealous of his brother's sud- 
 
 FORT HARRISON. 
 
674 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 den fame, was all the more anxious for a battle in the latter's 
 absence. His town, which was the objective point of the invad 
 ers, was the center and capital of the new religious fanaticism. 
 Here the Great Spirit was supposed to dwell. Here were per 
 formed the strange and mysterious rites with which the new 
 worship was carried on. Hideous dances, midnight orgies, self- 
 inflicted tortures, and the dark ceremonies of Indian magic occu 
 pied the frenzied savages. 
 
 To the thousands of converts, who had everywhere adopted 
 the religion of the Prophet, this sacred town was as Jerusalem 
 to the Jews, and Mecca to the Mohammedans. Its fortifications 
 were believed to be impregnable, and here a thousand braves, 
 the flower of a hundred warlike tribes, worked into a frantic 
 frenzy, alike by the fervor of fanaticism, the promptings of 
 patriotism, the fever of hatred, and the undying love of war 
 fare, prepared to give battle to the invading army. 
 
 Leaving a small garrison at Fort Harrison, the troops 
 advanced along the south-east bank of the Wabash. After 
 passing Big Raccoon Creek it was determined to cross the 
 Wabash, in order to avoid the woody shores oh the south-east 
 side. This was effected at a point near the site of the present 
 town of Montezuma, Parke county, Indiana. 
 
 On the 6th of November the army came in sight of the 
 Prophet's town. Small bodies of Indians, armed and painted 
 for battle, could be seen scurrying hither and thither across the 
 country. As the army v continued to advance every effort was 
 made to communicate with these savages, and assure them of 
 the peaceful intentions of the whites. While this fact is well 
 authenticated, it must be confessed that an army of a thousand 
 men approaching within a mile of their principal town, and 
 which had already constructed and garrisoned two forts, was 
 not calculated to cause the savages to regard the invaders' 
 intentions as purely peaceful. In fact the thing now wears the 
 appearance of a huge joke. However, toward evening three 
 chiefs advanced, representing that the Prophet on his part, also, 
 
THE TRVE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 675 
 
 contemplated nothing but peace, and that his heart was over 
 flowing with love for his white brethren. Thus the Indian 
 answered one joke with another. He also asked that the white 
 men refrain from hostilities until the following day, when a peace 
 talk could be had. 
 
 The army encamped for the night about three quarters of a 
 mile from the Prophet's town, on the now famous Tippecanoe 
 Battle Ground, seven miles north-east of the present city of 
 Lafayette. The place was a beautiful spot of timber-land, 
 about ten feet higher than the marshy prairie in front, which 
 stretched away toward- the Prophet's town, and perhaps twice 
 that height above the prairie in the rear. Here the army 
 encamped. 
 
 Meanwhile the Indians were by no means idle. All night 
 long the chiefs sat in council. - A dozen different plans for the 
 attack were proposed. At one time it was decided to meet the 
 whites in council on the next day, agree to their proposals, and 
 withdraw, leaving behind two Winnebagoes, who were to rush 
 forward and assassinate the governor. This was to be the signal 
 for battle. Later in the night, which was dark and rainy, the 
 plan was changed. The Prophet, mixing some mysterious hell- 
 broth, pretended to read in it the fact that one-half of Harri 
 son's army was dead, and the other half crazy. Encouraged 
 by this assurance the whole body of warriors, at four o'clock in 
 the morning, began to creep across the miry prairie toward the 
 American camp. 
 
 Early though it was, General Harrison had risen, and was 
 pulling on his boots before a camp-fire. The drummer was just 
 being roused to wake the men. Suddenly a shot was heard, 
 followed by a wild yell from multitudes of savage throats. The 
 men, who had slept in rank with their clothes on and arms in 
 hand, sprang to their feet. A number of Indians made their 
 way into the heart of the camp before they could be arrested. 
 The place was dark except as it was illuminated by the glow 
 of the smoldering camp-fires. The men hurried to put these 
 
676 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 out as quickly as possible, to prevent the enemy from having 
 so good a mark. They soon rallied from the surprise, and began 
 to fight with great courage. 
 
 In the confusion of the moment the large white horse of 
 Governor Harrison could not be found, and the American com 
 mander was forced to mount a borrowed plug of a different 
 color. This circumstance no doubt saved his life. One of his 
 aids, who also rode a white horse, fell, pierced by a dozen balls, 
 in the very beginning of the attack. There can be no doubt 
 that he was mistaken for his chief. 
 
 Harrison took a most active part in the battle, riding from 
 point to point, rallying and encouraging- his men. Not so with 
 the Prophet. Selecting for himself an elevated position, he 
 chanted a wild war-song. Though invisible in the darkness, 
 Ms shrill and piercing voice could be distinctly heard above 
 the din of the battle in every part of the field. Here, like an 
 evil genius, he presided over the destinies of the battle until 
 his braves, wounded and dying, were being driven back from 
 the point of attack. 
 
 The American troops which were encamped around the edge 
 of the spot of woodland, succeeded in keeping the Indians out 
 of the camp until it became sufficiently light for a general 
 charge, which resulted in the complete rout of the Indians. 
 During the battle many instances of heroism occurred. Cap 
 tain Warrick was shot through the body. His wound was 
 dressed, and though it was evident he could live but a few 
 hours, his great physical strength was unexhausted. He insisted 
 on going"back to head his company. This was but one of many 
 such occurrences. 
 
 When the Indians fled, the whites found thirty-seven of 
 their own number killed, and a hundred and fifty-one wounded. 
 Twenty-five of the latter afterwards died from their wounds. 
 During the day the shattered army was employed in strength 
 ening their position. Their only food was broiled horseflesh. 
 On the following day they advanced to the Prophet's town. 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 677 
 
 No defiant war-whoop greeted them. The place was desolate 
 and deserted. It had been abandoned in a panic. The Indians, 
 more civilized than the wild tribes of the plains which we know 
 to-day, had left behind all their household furniture, many fire 
 arms, great quantities of corn, numbers of hogs and chickens. 
 The only human being in the village was an old chief, with a 
 broken leg. He had been left behind by his people, and was 
 unable to escape. The whites ministered to his wants and left 
 him. Taking the provisions for their own use, the entire village 
 was destroyed. The Prophet's influence was forever broken. 
 
 Tecumseh was already on his way home. His trip had been 
 successful. Red Eagle- and the Creeks were preparing for war. 
 The Cherokees, the Osages, the Seminoles, were all ready to 
 take up the hatchet. The great confederacy seemed almost an 
 accomplished fact. Confident and happy, Tecumseh hurried 
 back to the Prophet's town. He was ignorant of what had 
 happened. As he and his party approached they gave the 
 salute-yell. Instead of a wild chorus of replies from the direc 
 tion of the village, all was wrapped in utter silence. 
 
 Anxious and alarmed, he hurried forward. He caught sight 
 of the spot where the village had been. Not a cabin was to be 
 seen. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, to see if it was 
 not a dream, a nightmare. Not so. The village had disap 
 peared. Only heaps of ashes marked its site. All its forti 
 fications, all the stores of food and ammunition, and the collection 
 of arms, the fruit of years of weary toil, were gone. Tecum 
 seh saw at once what had happened. He was overwhelmed 
 with sorrow. Just at the moment of apparent triumph he 
 found the very foundation of the fabric dissolved in thin air. 
 Guided by some stragglers Tecumseh hurried to the camp, 
 twenty miles away, where the disgraced Prophet awaited with 
 fear and trembling his brother's return. Great and terrible was 
 Tecumseh's rage. He seized the unfortunate impostor by the 
 hair, and threatened to kill him. The battle had been fought 
 in direct opposition to his orders. 
 
678 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 All had been staked, and all was lost. The Prophet's influ 
 ence was utterly gone. He was the object of contempt and 
 abuse. The very boys yelled at him as he sneaked through a 
 village. Yet, because he was Tecumseh's brother, he was saved 
 from further punishment. Tecumseh wrote to General Harrison 
 that he desired to go to Washington. The request was granted, 
 but he was required to go alone. This wounded the spirit of 
 the disappointed man. The would-be emperor refused to go 
 without a retinue. Filled with unutterable fury, he joined the 
 English army in Canada. When invited to take part in a 
 peace-council, he said : " No ! I have taken sides with the king, 
 and I will suffer my bones to bleach on this shore before I will 
 recross that stream to take part in any council of neutrality." 
 
 Tecumseh took an active part in the war, and before long 
 found himself at the head of seven hundred warriors. Nearly 
 all the leading chiefs followed his lead and went over to the 
 British side. Fort Dearborn, theii a lonely post on the spot 
 where Chicago, the "Wonder of the West," now handles the 
 commerce of a continent, was evacuated by its occupants. The 
 departing garrison and the families of the fort were assaulted 
 by savages, and nearly all killed. Tecumseh also devised two 
 sieges to be conducted by Indians. 
 
 Fort Wayne was a wooden fortification, garrisoned by sev 
 enty men. Early in September word reached General Harri 
 son, at Cincinnati, that this post was besieged and in great 
 peril. Five men, headed by Logan, an Indian chief of wide 
 fame, undertook to communicate with the garrison. At the 
 moment of their arrival the besiegers were gathered on two 
 sides of the fort, in an attempt to take the place by stratagem. 
 The messengers reached the very walls of the place without 
 opposition, and came suddenly upon four Indian chiefs, with 
 a flag of truce, who were attempting to lure the officers of 
 the fort into a peace-talk outside the fortification, where they 
 might be assassinated. The alarmed chiefs made off, while the 
 five scouts entered the fort. 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 679 
 
 The situation was found to be full of distress. As soon as 
 a letter could be written the bold men sallied forth, and dashed 
 through the lines of the astonished besiegers, to carry the news 
 to General Harrison. The defenders of Fort Wayne deposed 
 their commander, and elected Lieutenant Curtis as his successor. 
 Troops failing to arrive, the Indians demanded the surrender of 
 the place, and this being refused, made a heavy attack. They 
 had two cannon, which burst at the first fire, being made of 
 wood and hooped with iron, by some scalawag English traders. 
 The garrison fought well. The Indians were repulsed with 
 heavy loss. General Harrison at last arrived in the vicinity, 
 and failing to ambush him, the Indians withdrew. 
 
 Captain Zachary Taylor, afterwards President of the United 
 States, was the commandant of Fort Harrison. His force num 
 bered about thirty-five effective men. On the 3d of September 
 a lot of Indians with their women and children appeared before 
 the fort, and begged for admission, under pretense of holding a 
 council. Failing in this, they continued to linger around, and 
 at midnight the garrison was aroused by an alarm of fire. One 
 of the block-houses at the corner of the fortification, containing 
 the provisions of the garrison, was in flames. Several barrels 
 of whisky took fire, and the whole- structure was so quickly 
 ablaze that no efforts to extinguish the flames could avail. A 
 strong force of Indians poured volleys of balls into the fort, and 
 were evidently preparing to force an entrance through the gap 
 left by the destruction of the block-house. 
 
 The men prevented the spread of the flames as well as they 
 could, while their captain, sick with bilious fever, tore down a 
 log structure, and braving the bullets of the savages, constructed 
 a hasty barricade opposite the gap. Behind this the men fought 
 bravely, repulsing every assault. So inevitable did the destruc 
 tion of the garrison seem, that two men attempted to escape 
 through the gap left by the fire. One was killed ; the other 
 concealed himself, and was re-admitted to the fort in the morn 
 ing. The loss of their provisions threatened the handful of 
 
680 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 * 
 
 men with starvation. A wagon-train from Vincennes coming to- 
 their relief was attacked, and nearly the whole escort killed. 
 In time a stronger force made its way to the little outpost. 
 The Indians, to revenge themselves for their disappointment, 
 attacked a settlement at Pigeon Roost, on a branch of White 
 River, in Clarke county, Indiana, and massacred twenty-one 
 men, women, and children. 
 
 In the progress of the war, a Shawanese chief named Logan 
 proved to be a most valuable scout for the Americans. He was, 
 however, suspected of treachery. Deeply hurt, he, with Cap 
 tain Johnny and Bright Horn, his inseparable companions, 
 started out to prove his fidelity. They were surprised by some 
 hostile Indians, and captured. Logan pretended to be desert 
 ing to the British, and succeeded in retaining his arms. One 
 of the guards, noticing something in Captain Johnny's mouth, 
 looked inquiringly toward him. The latter coolly said, " Me 
 chaw heap tobac." The tobacco was a bullet. While some of 
 their captors were searching the woods for black haws, Logan 
 and his companions attacked the remainder. Five Indians were 
 killed. Logan received a mortal wound. He made his way 
 back to the American camp. He lingered two days in the 
 greatest agony. The men, understanding that he had fallen to 
 vindicate his honor, bestowed every attention possible. The 
 faithful chief passed away with a smile of triumph on his face, 
 satisfied that he had answered his accusers, though at the cost 
 of his life. His mother was Tecumapease, the only sister of 
 Tecumseh. 
 
 Among the many tragic occurrences of the Indian warfare 
 in 1812, none, was more fearful than the battle and massacre of 
 Raisin. Frenchtown was on the river Raisin, only eighteen 
 miles from Maiden, Canada, where the British had their entire 
 force. A cry for help came from the place, and in the dead of 
 winter six hundred men marched from the Maumee to this place. 
 A sharp battle resulted in the evacuation of Frenchtown by 
 the British. Two hundred and fifty more Americans were then 
 
THE TRUE STQRY OF THE PROPHET. 681 
 
 sent forward to re-enforce the first army. On the morning of 
 January 22, 1813, two thousand British and Indians attacked 
 the Americans. A bloody battle resulted in the surrender of 
 the entire American force. The English commander left the 
 wounded in the place, taking the rest to Maiden. On the fol 
 lowing morning two hundred Indians, painted black and red, 
 entered the place, and barbarously massacred the helpless 
 wounded. Many were burnt alive in the buildings in which 
 they lay. Nearly three hundred perished in the battle and the 
 massacre together. The whole town was filled with corpses. 
 Tecumseh was in the Wabash region at the time, raising 
 re-enforcements. 
 
 In April Tecumseh appeared before Fort Meigs, on the Mau- 
 mee River, where General Harrison had his head-quarters. The 
 English erected three batteries. To match this, Harrison con 
 structed an earth embankment, twelve feet high, in which the 
 cannon-balls buried themselves harmlessly. General Clay at 
 last approached to the relief of the fort with eight hundred 
 men. A battle ensued in the attempt to throw themselves into 
 the fort. The activity of Tecumseh's warriors defeated the 
 effort, less than two hundred out of the whole number reaching 
 the fort. The English commander allowed his Indian allies to 
 tomahawk such of the prisoners as they pleased, more than 
 twenty being brutally murdered. Tecumseh had been in 
 another part of the battle-field. Discovering what was going 
 on, he rode at full speed to the spot, dismounted, and with 
 drawn tomahawk beat his men off from the prisoners, and 
 cursed the English commander for his crime. The latter said 
 he could not control the Indians, but Tecumseh answered, 
 " Begone ! You are unfit to command ; go and put on the dress 
 of a squaw." 
 
 Tecumseh was an unruly ally. He despised Proctor, the 
 English commander with whom he operated. One day, provis 
 ions being scarce, salt beef was given the English soldiers, while 
 the Indians received only horse-flesh. Angered at the outrage, 
 
 38 
 
682 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Tecumseh strode to Proctor's tent and demanded an explanation. 
 Seeing the English general about to treat the complaint with 
 indifference, Tecumseh significantly struck the hili of the com 
 mander's sword, touching at the same time the handle of his 
 tomahawk, and said, "You are Proctor I am Tecumseh." This 
 hint at a mode of settling the difficulty, brought Proctor to 
 terms at once. 
 
 Tecumseh's last grudge against Proctor was the retreat of 
 the English from Maiden after Commodore Perry's victory on 
 Lake Erie. Tecumseh urged a battle with every argument and 
 taunt. "We must compare our father's conduct to a fat dog 
 that carries its tail on its back, but when affrighted, it drops it 
 between its legs and runs off." Tecumseh, disgusted at the 
 retreat, would have deserted the English cause but for the 
 fact that he had induced other tribes to join it. Proctor pre 
 tended from time to time that he would halt and give battle. 
 When the retreat commenced, Tecumseh said, "We are now 
 going to follow the British, and I am sure that we shall never 
 return." At last, on the 5th of October, Proctor was forced to 
 halt and oppose the pursuing Americans in the battle of the 
 Thames. Just before the engagement, Tecumseh said to the 
 group of chiefs about him; "Brother warriors, we are now 
 about to enter into an engagement, from which I shall never 
 come out my body will remain on the field of battle." Un 
 buckling his sword and handing it to a chief he said, "When 
 my son becomes a noted warrior, and able to wield a sword, 
 give this to him." 
 
 As the battle advanced, the victory of the Americans became 
 apparent. The Indians fought well, until they suddenly missed 
 the loud, commanding battle-cry of Tecumseh. There was a 
 pause, a shudder, and then all incontinently fled. The great 
 chieftain had fallen, pierced by a pistol ball. The discussion as 
 to who killed Tecumseh became a singularly heated one in sub 
 sequent political campaigns, the chief recommendation for office 
 in that day being skill as an Indian fighter. The preponder- 
 
THE TRUE STORY OF THE PROPHET. 683 
 
 ance of evidence seems to indicate that Colonel Richard M. 
 Johnson was the slayer of the famous chief. 
 
 Tecumseh never allowed his portrait' to be painted. He is 
 described as a perfect Apollo in form, his face oval, his nose 
 straight and handsome, and his mouth regular and beautiful. 
 His eyes singularly enough, were " hazel, clear, and pleasant in 
 conversation, but like balls of fire when excited by anger or 
 enthusiasm." His bearing was that of a noble and lofty spirit, 
 a true "King of the Woods," as the English called him. He 
 was temperate in his habits, loving truth and honor better than 
 life. His mind was of a high order. He possessed a genius 
 which must have made him eminent in any age or country. 
 Like Powhatan, Pontiac, and Brant, his illustrious predecessors, 
 he had failed; yet like them he was great in defeat. He was 
 the first great chieftain who prohibited the massacre of pris 
 oners. He died at forty-four, in the very prime of life. 
 
 The Prophet survived his brother twenty-two years. He, 
 with the remnant of his tribe, removed to the Indian Territory, 
 where, shorn of his power and influence, he still continued in a 
 small way to exercise his "supernatural" gifts for the delusion 
 and mystification of a few ignorant dupes. He had only one 
 eye, and possessed a countenance of which every line revealed 
 craft and deceptiveness. In 1823, Isaac Harvey, a Quaker 
 missionary at Wapakoneta, one day visited a sick Indian, a 
 consumptive. Entering the cabin, he found the sick man lying 
 face downwards, his bared back cut in several places, and faint 
 from loss of blood. Standing over him was the Prophet, with 
 a bloody knife in his hands. He explained that the sick man 
 was bewitched, and that the gashes in his back were to let out 
 the demon. The good Quaker put the fraud out of the room, 
 and dressed the sick man's wounds. Nor did his work stop 
 here. At great personal risk he continued to fight the belief 
 in witchcraft, and to oppose the Prophet's delusions, until the 
 lunacy was banished entirely from the Shawanese tribe. The 
 impostor himself alone continued the pretense of belief in it. 
 
684 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 OHAPTEE XXIII 
 
 THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 
 
 |M I a negro, a slave ? My skin is dark, but 
 not black. I am an Indian a Seminole. The 
 white man shall not make me black. I will 
 make the white man red with blood, and then 
 blacken him in the sun and rain, where the 
 wolf shall smell of his bones, and the buzzard 
 shall live upon his flesh." Where, when, and 
 by whom was expression given to this dark 
 sentiment? The speaker was Osceola, a young Seminole war 
 rior. The scene, a trader's cabin, at a settlement in Florida. 
 Osceola had sought to buy a keg of powder. He had been 
 refused on the ground that the United States forbade the sale 
 of ammunition or fire-arms to the Seminoles. The time of 
 this affront was the early part of the year 1835. Who was 
 Osceola, what his race, and w T hat the occasion for this collision 
 between its members and the white man? 
 
 About the middle of the last century a great chief arose 
 among the Creeks, named Secoifee. He had ambition, genius, 
 eloquence, the gift of leadership, and the spirit of rebellion. 
 He revolted from the confederacy of the Creeks, and drawing 
 after him a third part of the tribe, took his way to the heart 
 of Florida. The Creeks attempted, by terrible wars, to conquer 
 the rebels, and force them to return to their old allegiance. 
 Failing in this, they sought revenge by branding the runa 
 ways with the name of " The Seminoles," a name originally 
 a badge of disgrace, signifying simply " The Runaways." The 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 685 
 
 insult failed, as well as the armies of the Creeks, to accomplish 
 its purpose. Long since has the humiliating meaning been for 
 gotten among men, who remember only the sad but beauti 
 ful name, Seminole. 
 
 Fugitives themselves, the Seminoles always afforded refuge 
 and safety to the negroes of Georgia, who likewise fled from 
 the bondage of their masters. This practice brought on a small 
 war between the Georgians and the Seminoles, which eventually 
 resulted in the purchase of Florida from Spain. The United 
 States thus found itself with a red elephant on its hands. The 
 whites along the frontier hated their Indian neighbors. They 
 longed to get their greedy hands upon their property. 
 
 Adventurers, speculators, and pioneers kept up an incessant 
 din, demanding that the Indians of Florida be confined to cer 
 tain limits, and that the rest of the country be thrown open to 
 settlers. The whites wanted the country, so they said. This 
 was sufficient reason in the opinion of the government and of 
 the age to rob the Indians of their lands. Inasmuch as at the 
 present day vast expanses of Florida remain a wilderness, 
 untrodden by the foot of man, undeveloped and unexplored, 
 the folly, the falsehood, and the wickedness of the clamor for 
 the spoliation of the Seminoles is apparent to every candid 
 mind. Nevertheless, the government, by intrigue and strata 
 gem, on the 18th of September, 1824, took the step which was 
 ultimately to desolate the peninsula to which mankind have given 
 the name " The Land of Flowers." A considerable portion of 
 the Seminole chiefs were induced to sign a treaty by which they 
 bound themselves to withdraw with their people to a certain des 
 ignated reservation. This treaty was to afford a pretext in case 
 of its violation for the destruction of the Seminoles. 
 
 It brought nothing but trouble. The Indians, unsettled and 
 driven from the old homes, failed to quiet down in any new 
 ones. Angry and furious, they roamed the peninsula at will, 
 from end to end. Of course, this brought on collisions and 
 outrages. Moreover, the old question of the negroes am6ng 
 
686 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the Seminoles gave increasing difficulty. The whites claimed 
 that the Indians robbed their cornfields, burned their houses, 
 and killed their cattle. The southerners were passionate. No 
 one knew at what moment an Indian war might break out. 
 
 So in 1833 the government induced a party of chiefs to 
 visit another unexplored wilderness, now comprising the State 
 of Arkansas, with a view to the removal of the entire Seminole 
 nation to that place. By some manipulation the United States 
 succeeded in inducing a number of the chiefs to sign what is 
 known as the treaty of " Payne's Landing," whereby they 
 agreed to make the removal to Arkansas, provided an investi 
 gating band should make a favorable report concerning the 
 country. The latter, under the seductive arts of the Indian 
 agents, signed a treaty whereby they admitted that the country 
 was satisfactory, and binding the Seminoles absolutely to the 
 removal. 
 
 When these chiefs returned from Arkansas, and told their 
 people what had been done, a universal dissatisfaction arose. 
 The authority of the commissioners was denied. Indeed, more 
 than half of them deliberately swore they had never signed 
 the treaty, and that their names had been forged. There was 
 widespread agitation. In every wigwam was heard the sound 
 of dispute; in every council-house the roar of argument. The 
 negro slaves belonging to the Seminoles banded together and 
 boldly refused to follow their masters into exile, to a coun 
 try where subsistence was only to be obtained by hard labor. 
 As if by common impulse the Seminoles began to accumulate 
 ammunition and weapons. The government retaliated by for 
 bidding the sale of these articles to Indians or negroes. In 
 response to a refusal to sell even powder, Osceola, a young 
 warrior, not even a chief, uttered the terrible threat which 
 stands at the opening of this chapter. 
 
 As the months went by, this high-spirited brave became one 
 of the leaders of the war-party of the Seminoles. The old chiefs 
 of the nation were timid and conservative. They inclined to a 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 687 
 
 compliance with the demands of the United States. With the 
 ringing voice of command, Osceola swore that the first Indian 
 who commenced the sale or disposal of his property, prepara 
 tory to removal, should be put to death. It was not long before 
 this threat was carried out. Charley Mathlar, an old chief, 
 had driven his cattle to one of the army posts, and there, in 
 conformity with the treaty, received from the government agent 
 the money for them. He was returning home from this trip, 
 carrying in his hands a handkerchief, in which was tied up the 
 gold and silver thus obtained. 
 
 Osceola, mindful of his threat, posted himself with a band 
 of braves in the forest beside the path, along which the old 
 chief must come. As the latter approached, his enemies fired. 
 Covering, his face with his hands, he fell prostrate, receiving 
 the blows from the braves without a word. With imperious tone 
 Osceola said that the gold and silver was made of the red man's 
 blood. Forbidding his followers to touch the accursed thing, he 
 took it with his own hands and threw it in every direction. 
 
 Osceola was not satisfied. He determined to obtain revenge 
 for the murder of Charley Mathlar, to which, as he said, the 
 white man had driven him. With sixty followers he concealed 
 himself in a dense forest, in the neighborhood t>f Fort King. 
 General Thompson and Lieutenant Smith were taking an after 
 noon walk. As they approached the ambush they were fired 
 upon and killed. 
 
 The fierce appetite for war and blood, which sometimes 
 sleeps, but never is utterly eradicated from the savage heart, 
 had during the long years of comparative peace and of agricul 
 tural pursuits slumbered inactive in the breasts of the Semi- 
 noles. As the deed of blood was accomplished, this old appetite 
 was roused, like some sleeping animal, to rage and fury in the 
 bosoms of the Indians. With fierce, exultant cries they leaped 
 forth from their concealment, scalped the fallen men, in whose 
 bodies were no less than thirty-seven balls, and to satisfy the 
 craving appetites of all, as well as to prove to their companions 
 
688 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 their participation in the murder, cut the scalps into sixty small 
 pieces, and distributed them to every member of the party. 
 
 Near by was the sutler's store, from which provisions were 
 supplied to the fort. It was just the hour for the evening meal. 
 Through the windows, open for the fresh sea breeze, which dur 
 ing certain hours in the day makes Florida delightful beyond 
 any climate in the world, the savages discovered four gentlemen 
 aud one boy seated at the table. They fired through the open 
 doors and windows, killing every inmate of the house. The 
 scalps of the slain were cut up and distributed as before. With 
 greedy hands the store was rifled. Then the torch was applied, 
 and the band rode away, leaving the buildings in flames. 
 
 Horrible as was this occurrence, which stands as the open 
 ing of the Florida war, a war of which the histories are few 
 and the events but little known, which is passed over lightly 
 by every historian of our country, who is more careful for its 
 fame than for the truth, it must be remembered that the Semi- 
 noles were frantic with agitation and insane with grief, both at 
 the sorrows they had suffered and at the exile which confronted 
 them. They had been driven from the villages which they and 
 their fathers had inhabited for three quarters of a century; 
 they had been quarreled with and hated by their neighbors, 
 who for forty years had sought only their destruction or exile, 
 and the robbery of their lands. Houseless and homeless, they 
 had roamed restlessly through the peninsula, angry with them 
 selves and embittered by hatred for their enemies. Their 
 braves had been arrested and placed in irons ; their hunting 
 parties had been robbed and murdered. 
 
 The territorial legislature, in a petition to congress, had 
 accused them of the violation of a treaty, into which their 
 chiefs had been entrapped, and to which the nation at large 
 had never agreed. Guilty of much, they had, nevertheless, 
 been charged with murders which they did not commit, and 
 slandered for outrages of which they were innocent. Their 
 exile was demanded on the strength of a treaty alleged to 
 
PIONEER WOMEN INCITING INDIANS TO VIOLENCE. (See page 962.) 
 

THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 691 
 
 have been made with the exploring party sent to Arkansas, 
 which the chiefs themselves repudiated as a forgery. Their 
 most trusted leaders had been corrupted with money, and their 
 hereditary chiefs had been bribed with presents. The suffering 
 Seminoles, unlike the Indians of other portions of the country, 
 could not retreat from the aggressions of the white men farther 
 into the wilderness. Nature had hemmed them in by sea and 
 gulf. For them there were but two alternatives, exile or war. 
 
 The Indians were by no means idle. One hundred troops 
 were marching from Fort Brooke to the help of Fort King, 
 where the above outrages were committed. They were discov 
 ered passing through an immense swamp. The Indians, two 
 hundred in number, commanded by Jumper and Alligator, 
 posted themselves on the west side of the road. Every war 
 rior was protected or concealed amid the broad leaves of the 
 high palmettos. On the other side of the road was a deep 
 pond. Just as the troops arrived at this point, where they 
 were, so to speak, between the devil and the deep water, the 
 ambushed Indians fired. Alligator says, " The soldiers shouted 
 and whooped, and the officers shook their swords and swore." 
 
 They seem to have done no more effective fighting. A can 
 non was loaded and fired a time or two, but the balls hissed 
 harmlessly through the air, and fell with dull thuds far back in 
 the swamp. Almost every white man was killed on the spot. 
 Six got away, and endeavored to build a log barricade or pen, 
 behind which they would be safe. The negroes, who formed 
 powerful and ferocious allies of the Seminoles, attacked the rude 
 rampart. When they clambered over the logs, only three men 
 were found alive in the pen. Two of these were killed outright. 
 The third snatched a rifle from the hands of his enemies, and 
 with a terrific blow brained his opponent. He swiftly leaped 
 over the logs, and started down the road at full speed. Two 
 Indians on horseback gave chase, and, firing from a distance, 
 killed him. Every man but two in the command was killed. 
 The Indians lost only three warriors. 
 
692 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The whole Seminole country seemed to burst into flames at 
 once. Sixteen plantations in East Florida, upon each of which 
 were employed over a hundred negroes, together with sugar 
 mills, cotton gins, storehouses, and fine residences, were com 
 pletely destroyed during the month of January, 1836. The 
 wealthiest people fled through the swamps for their lives, desti 
 tute of the common necessaries of life. None could tell at what 
 moment or in what manner they would be assailed, and subjected 
 to the most cruel and brutal death. " In some instances the 
 lives of mothers were spared, that they might see their children 
 cut in pieces, and their limbs used as weapons to assail the 
 living." 
 
 A Frenchman, traveling in Florida in 1851, heard the story 
 of the destruction of one of these planter's homes, from his 
 guide, and published it in Paris. Though no date was given, the 
 affair doubtless occurred early in the war. The guide had been 
 a member of a company of volunteers, who were encamped on 
 the shores of the St. John's River. One day a negro was 
 observed swimming the river. He directed his course to the 
 camp. As he touched the shore he ran toward the soldiers, all 
 dripping with the water, explaining in agitated tones that the 
 Indians were attacking the house of Mr. Montgomery, his master, 
 and begging for help. 
 
 A party of men hastily prepared to accompany the slave to 
 the threatened mansion, which was some little distance above, 
 on the opposite side of the St. John's. The place was found to 
 be well defended, and in no immediate danger, as the Indians 
 had been gone for some hours. Montgomery, however, expressed 
 great fears for the safety of his neighbor, Motte, who lived some 
 miles farther up the river. Leaving a guard at Montgomery's, 
 the men started on to Motte's. 
 
 When within a short distance of the house, which was spa 
 cious and elegant, the soldiers discovered smoke and flames 
 beginning to issue from the windows. No Indians were in sight. 
 Hurrying forward, the men entered the burning building. The 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 693 
 
 owner seemed to be absent, yet he could not have been gone 
 long. The rooms, with their elegant furniture, which one after 
 another were being reached by the flames, gave evidence of 
 recent occupation. 
 
 Pushing on into the parlor, the soldiers discovered the scene 
 of an awful tragedy. Four mutilated corpses, yet warm with 
 life, were lying on the floor. One was that of an old man, Mr. 
 Motte himself. He was on the floor, partially leaning against 
 the wall. He had been scalped, and the blood still trickled 
 down his pallid features, and reddened all his snow-white beard. 
 Right by him lay the mangled form of his youngest daughter. A 
 few feet off were the two other beautiful daughters lying, scalped 
 and lifeless. There had been a struggle ; the old man still 
 grasped his gun, and the oldest daughter still held in her jew 
 eled hand a large pistol. The apartment, with its handsome 
 fittings, was already full of fire. The floor and walls were in 
 a blaze ; the garments of the dead were burning. 
 
 Swift hands snatched the corpses from the flames, and bore 
 them out for interment. Just as they were about to leave the 
 doomed house, which was now filled with a frightful roar from 
 the flames, t the soldiers heard a shriek. The next moment, an 
 old lady, scalped and bloody, but yet living, the mother of the 
 girls, sprung toward the*m. She was tenderly transported to a 
 place of safety, and survived for a year or so. 
 
 In the yard the men found the* body of the colored gard 
 ener. One man stopped to water his horse. He heard .a low 
 cry from the marsh. Advancing cautiously, he found a poor 
 mulatto girl, half-dead with fright. She had been lying in the 
 swamp for hours. From her the story of the tragedy was 
 learned. She had gone to get some water for the house, when 
 Indians were discovered climbing the garden wall. The family 
 were at the time out in the garden gathering flowers. They 
 had time to reach the house and barricade the doors. The 
 colored gardener sought to join them, but was killed on the 
 way. The mulatto girl being too far away to reach the house. 
 
694 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 fled to the marsh. Here she endured agony, but it was not 
 the agony of death. She saw the Indians surround the house. 
 She heard their demand for surrender, and the refusal of the 
 inmates. She saw the doors battered down, heard the shots, 
 the shrieks, the moans. Then there had been a silence. For 
 an hour or two the Indians remained in the house, ransack 
 ing it. At last they came forth with their plunder, fired the 
 house, and disappeared in the hammock. For many years the 
 ruined mansion bore the name of the House of Blood. 
 
 Two months after the massacre of Major Dade's command, 
 General Gaines, who with a considerable force from New 
 Orleans had reached the scene of hostilities, came upon the 
 spot where the awful tragedy had been enacted. Here was a 
 cart amid a lot of broken and scattered boxes. The two oxen 
 were lying dead, their yokes still on them. A little farther on 
 were the offensive remains of some horses. Next the men 
 came upon a little triangular breastwork of logs. A soldier 
 counted the corpses, by that time almost skeletons, lying within 
 the triangle. There were thirty of them. They were lying in 
 a regular row, parallel to each other, behind the barricade, their 
 heads next to the logs over which they had fired, and their 
 bodies stretched out on the ground. They had been shot dead 
 in their ranks, and lay in death as they had fought in life. 
 
 A little farther on, other bodies were found lying along the 
 road. Behind every tree, log, or even bush, to which the men 
 had resorted for cover, was one or more corpses. At one spot, 
 two hundred yards down the road, lay a cluster of bodies in 
 regular ranks, like the others. This had been the advance 
 guard. The soldiers were overwhelmed with horror. If such 
 was the beginning, what would be the end of the war ? 
 
 Their apprehensions were indeed justified. The very first 
 movement in the war was a terrible blunder. General Gaines, 
 finding no supplies at Fort King, resolved to withdraw to Fort 
 Brooke, on Tampa Bay. On the way, while crossing a river, 
 an immense force of warriors attacked him. A rude breastwork 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 697 
 
 of logs was hastily thrown up, and a runner dispatched to Fort 
 Drane, ordering General Clinch to hurry forward with all his 
 troops and supplies, and take the Indians, numbering more than 
 fifteen hundred braves, in the rear, while Gaines attacked them 
 in the front. 
 
 While the army, pinched with hunger and annoyed by the 
 Indians, remained quiet in their fortified camp awaiting Clinch, 
 an old negro named Caesar came up to the lines, and shouted 
 " that the Indians were tired of fighting, and wished to come in 
 ;:nd shake hands." In pursuance of arrangements made with this 
 embassador, a large number of warriors without their arms, 
 assembled under a flag of truce about five hundred yards from 
 the camp. Midway between the hostile armies three chiefs met 
 a like number of American officers, and arranged a temporary 
 cessation of hostilities. The Indians were to withdraw to the 
 south side of the Withlacoochie, and remain there until a per 
 manent peace was concluded. At that moment, General Clinch, 
 from Fort Drane came in sight, and supposing the assemblage of 
 Indians to be a hostile one, instantly charged upon them, inflict 
 ing great slaughter. So the conference broke up, and the 
 Indians, freshly enraged, fled to their towns, swearing new 
 oaths of vengeance. 
 
 On the twenty-second day of February Major-General Scott 
 arrived in Florida, assuming command of the American forces. 
 From the first all his efforts met with embarrassment and fail 
 ure. His troops almost starved before rations could be had. 
 In attempting a forward movement, large numbers of his pro 
 vision wagons and horses were swept away in fording a river. 
 Such provision as was rescued was exposed to a tremendous 
 rain of many days, and ruined. The stormy weather delayed 
 the movement of troops, and the exposure caused large numbers 
 of the men, unused to the climate, to be attacked with malig 
 nant fevers. The cannon mired in bottomless bogs. Generals 
 Gaines and Clinch refused to co-operate with Scott, and a bitter 
 quarrel broke out between the commanders. 
 
698 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Assailed by these overwhelming difficulties, the army was 
 compelled to straggle back to Fort Drane to escape starvation. 
 They arrived there famished and fever-stricken, only to find 
 that General Gaines, who had not been expected in that part 
 of the country, had deliberately appropriated nineteen thousand 
 rations to his own use. Nevertheless General Scott, misled by 
 dishonest scouts, utterly ignorant of the geography of a coun 
 try which consisted of dense and impassable jungles, into which 
 the light of day never penetrated, and of endless swamps, inter 
 spersed with bottomless bayous and salt lagoons, managed to 
 send out numerous detachments in all directions to search for 
 the enemy, whose whereabouts was utterly unknown. The 
 Indians, thoroughly familiar with the country, led these detach 
 ments on wild and fatiguing chases only to disappear from view 
 entirely, and fall upon the worn soldiery as they attempted to 
 make their way back to their commander. Meanwhile the 
 heated season coming on, together with scanty water from poi 
 sonous pools, made the condition of the men still more intoler 
 able. In short, the campaign was an utter and ruinous failure. 
 
 About the first of June, General Call assumed command of 
 the army. He, however, though liaving several engagements 
 with the enemy, met with no better success than his predeces 
 sor. His principal undertaking was to send a strong detach 
 ment against the enemy, which were supposed to be posted in 
 large numbers in the great Wahoo swamp. 
 
 After a journey of incomparable difficulty, the men wading 
 much of the time up to their armpits in mire and water, the 
 enemy was met in great strength. In endeavoring to dislodge 
 them from a vast morass, the men themselves became entangled 
 in its deceitful depths. The loss was heavy, although the 
 engagement was accounted a victory. At night, however, it 
 was deemed impossible to remain or to risk another engage 
 ment. The horses were dying for want of food. The ammuni 
 tion was exhausted. The supplies, too, were gone. They had 
 been lost in the difficulties of the advance. There remained 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 699 
 
 nothing to be done except a disastrous and painful retreat. On 
 the 27th of November, 1836, General Call was succeeded by 
 General Jessup. The latter pushed the campaign with vigor. 
 As the summer approached the Indians themselves, who had 
 been accustomed to subsist on agricultural productions, were 
 compelled to sue for peace. They again agreed to withdraw to 
 Arkansas, and hostilities, for the time being, ceased. 
 
 By agreement large numbers of the Seminoles assembled in 
 a camp near Fort Brooke, preparatory to an embarkation on 
 government vessels for transportation to Arkansas. The old 
 chief Micanopy had been largely instrumental in this consent 
 to the exile of his people. He was encamped with hundreds 
 of his followers at Fort Brooke, ready to bid a last farewell to 
 the country he loved, and seek a new home in the barren wil 
 derness west of the Mississippi. On the night of the 4th of 
 June two dark forms made their way through the sleeping 
 Indian camp toward the wigwam of old Micanopy. They were 
 Osceola and Coacooche, the young and ferocious chiefs of the 
 Avar-party. With noiseless tread they entered the rude apart 
 ment, unsheathed their glittering knives and roused the old 
 chief from his slumbers. With whispered words they told him 
 that he was a traitor to his people, that as they had sworn to 
 kill the first Indian who should prepare to remove from Flor 
 ida, and had fulfilled their oath by the slaughter of Charley 
 Mathlar, so now they had sworn to take the life of Micanopy 
 as that of a traitor, unless he at once consented to arouse the 
 sleeping camp and lead the people before the break of day in a 
 flight to the south, where they would be beyond the reach of 
 the American army, and thus again foil the schemes of the ene 
 mies of the Seminoles to drive them into cruel exile. 
 
 The old man heard the whispered threats of the dark con 
 spirators. He was timid and irresolute. He doubted himself 
 whether he was not, as they hissed through their teeth in the 
 darkness, a traitor to his people. He still hesitated. Osceola 
 uplifted his right hand, from which the bright blade glistened 
 
700 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 in the starlight, to plunge the dagger into the chieftain's heart. 
 Agitated beyond measure, the old man gave his consent to their 
 demand. Dark messengers passed swiftly and noiselessly from 
 tent to tent, rousing the occupants, and conveying the order 
 of their chief to prepare for instant flight. Not a question was 
 asked. In a quarter of an hour, every one of the seven hun 
 dred Indians was proceeding through the forest without so much 
 noise as would come from the breaking of a twig or the rustle 
 of a dried palmetto leaf. 
 
 At sunrise, General Jessup, proud and pleased at the appar 
 ent termination of the war, rose to give orders for the embarka 
 tion of the exiles. In a half an hour he repaired to the spot 
 where the Indian camp had been pitched. To his dismay and 
 astonishment, he found only a few bare poles from the wigwams. 
 The whole Indian assemblage had fled, and were many miles 
 away, beyond the reach of successful pursuit. On that day 
 General Jessup, the third commander-in-chief of the Florida 
 army, tendered his resignation. He continued in actual com 
 mand, however, until the 15th of May, 1838. 
 
 To General Hernandez the commander-in-chief intrusted the 
 military operations of a campaign in East Florida, along the 
 Atlantic coast. On the 9th of September, 1837, Hernandez 
 succeeded in capturing King Philip, a noted Seminole chief of 
 intelligence and influence, and the father of Coacoochee. The 
 chieftain, finding himself in the toils of his enemies, sent word 
 to his distinguished son, earnestly requesting him to come and 
 confer with his father. Coacoochee was brave. Moreover, he 
 had a special mission to perform for Osceola. Placing a large 
 white plume in his hat, he boldly visited the camp of Hernan 
 dez, accompanied by Blue Snake, another chief. 
 
 On being shown into the presence of the American general, 
 Coacoochee presented him with a handsome peace pipe, from the 
 great Osceola, accompanied by a request for a conference. To 
 this proposition Hernandez acceded, and Coacoochee departed 
 with a message to Osceola, to the effect that he might have a 
 
 I 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 701 
 
 council with the American general. On the appointed day, Coa- 
 coochee returned to General Hernandez with information that 
 Osceola, with a hundred warriors, was on his way to St. Augus 
 tine, for the appointed peace talk. Hernandez, with' a design in 
 his mind which, whether inspired by his commander or originated 
 by himself, bears the ear-marks of a deep and damnable treach 
 ery, eager to get the game in his trap, hurried forward to meet 
 Osceola. Seven miles southwest of St. Augustine, he met the 
 distinguished Indian chieftain, and entered into a conference. 
 
 He at once commenced to question Osceola closely as to the 
 purposes and plans of the Indians. While the conversation was 
 progressing, the council was quickly and quietly surrounded by 
 an overwhelming force of American soldiers. With quick intui 
 tion, Osceola read the sinister purposes of his enemy. As the 
 questions were put to him he looked nervously about him at 
 the surrounding military, gave a few vague and uneasy replies, 
 and then lapsed into silence. Overcome by uncontrollable emo 
 tion, he turned to Coa-Hajo, and said, " I feel choked ; you must 
 speak for me." 
 
 Seeing that his purposes were discovered, Hernandez gave a 
 signal, and in a moment Osceola and his little band of braves 
 were made prisoners without a struggle. The date of this 
 infamy was October 22, 1837. Osceola and his companions 
 were at once placed in irons and thrown into the dungeon of 
 the castle of St. Marco, at St. Augustine. 
 
 Notwithstanding the treachery by which he had been 
 betrayed, Osceola communicated with Hernandez, and proposed 
 to send a message to his people and their chiefs, recommending 
 them to come in and consent to an exile to Arkansas. This 
 proposition was agreed to. The messengers were sent. A 
 council was held, and the scheme promised well. It however 
 met with a sudden interruption. Coacoochee and. his friend 
 Talmus Hadjo were immured in another of the dark and mys 
 terious dungeons in the castle of St. Marco, at St. Augustine, 
 the most ancient military work in the United States. 
 
 39 
 
702 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 While Osceola in one part of the old structure was planning 
 for a submission by his people to exile, Coacoochee and his 
 
 OSCEOLA. 
 
 friend weary with studying the arms of Spain, which were 
 carved on the walls of their prison cell, and growing more 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 70o 
 
 languid and sickly day by day from the confinement, resolved 
 to escape, or die in the effort. They occupied an apartment 
 about eighteen feet square, with walls of stone, and a lofty 
 ceiling. The only window through which they received light 
 and air, and consequently the only chance for escape, was a 
 small embrasure eighteen feet from the floor. From this aper 
 ture to the bottom of the ditch on the outside, was more than 
 fifty feet. The two prisoners examined the hole attentively, 
 and saw that it was exceedingly small, but believed that they 
 might possibly squeeze through it. 
 
 All their preparations had to be carried on in complete 
 silence, as a sentinel stood constantly at the door of the cell. 
 With deft fingers the prisoners tore into strips a few forage 
 bags which formed their bed, and wove them into a rude rope. 
 The first thing was to reach the embrasure. Again and again 
 Coacoochee stood on the shoulders of his companion and strained 
 himself to the utmost to reach the sill. All in vain; the win 
 dow remained two feet above his fingers. 
 
 At last the prisoners managed to secrete a knife. Standing 
 on the shoulders of his companion, Coacoochee gradually worked 
 it into a crevice in the rock as high up as he could reach. When 
 the blade and half of the short, heavy handle had been inserted 
 the other part of the handle remained a stout and serviceable 
 peg, by means of which the athletic Indian raised himself to 
 the embrasure. He found it small, but believed that if he and 
 his companion could get rid of their flesh they might get 
 through. They at once feigned sickness, and procured through 
 their guards some roots, of which they knew the effect. For 
 three weeks the prisoners abstained almost entirely from food, 
 taking large quantities of the medicinal root, and at the end of 
 the time were little more than skin and bone. 
 
 On a certain night, when there would be no moon, they 
 resolved to attempt their escape. During the evening the 
 keeper came in frequently, annoying the prisoners so much 
 that they almost resolved to seize and gag him. They more 
 
704 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 prudently pretended to be asleep, and at last the keeper came 
 no more. Taking one end of the rope in his hand, Coacoochee 
 once more climbed up to the embrasure. Here he made fast 
 the rope, letting one end hang down inside for his friend, who 
 was to follow, and dangling the other end down toward the 
 ditch. With great difficulty the Indian forced his body through 
 the aperture. Great strips of skin were torn from him. But 
 with a capacity for the endurance of physical suffering which 
 only an Indian could have, he resolutely persisted. He lay 
 hold of the rope on the outside with his hands, and descended 
 head foremost till he had dragged his feet through the embras 
 ure, and at last leaped to the ground. 
 
 Though terribly wounded he was unconscious of the pain y 
 and turned all his thoughts to the arrival of his comrade. At 
 length he heard the struggle of his companion far above him. 
 There was a low gasp of despair. The man had forced his head 
 and shoulders into the hole and was caught fast, being unable 
 to move either backward or forward. Coacoochee called to him 
 in the lowest possible tone to keep calm and rest for a moment, 
 then to force out all his breath and at the same instant endeavor 
 to move an inch or so. For a few moments Coacoochee could 
 hear his friend following this advice, when suddenly he was 
 alarmed to find him tumbling head foremost down the whole 
 distance. Extricating himself with a sudden jerk, the rope 
 had broken. 
 
 As he lay on the ground a confused and bloody mass, Coa 
 coochee thought him dead. Nevertheless, in spite of the danger 
 of discovery, he dragged his companion to a pool of water, 
 which revived him. The poor fellow was so lame that he could 
 not walk a step. It was almost dawn. In a short time their 
 escape would be discovered. Although himself weak from ema 
 ciation and wounds, Coacoochee placed his friend on his back, 
 and started to the nearest woods. Before long he caught sight 
 of a mule, which he captured. The two Indians mounted. 
 Forcing the animal to its highest speed, and guiding it solely 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 705 
 
 by seizing its ears, Coacoochee and his friend hurried across 
 the country with which they were so familiar. After five days 
 they arrived among their people. 
 
 Coacoochee's emaciation and wounds spoke eloquently of 
 what he had endured. Nevertheless he rested not until he had 
 told them the story of the treachery by which he and Osceola 
 had been betrayed, and of their confinement in loathsome cells. 
 Alarmed and suspicious, the other chiefs at once abandoned all 
 idea of further conference or communication with the Americans. 
 
 Poor Osceola, the master-spirit of the war, who had risen 
 from the ranks of the humblest warriors by dint of his lofty 
 genius, had at least twice confronted not only the Americans, 
 but all of the leading chiefs of his own people, and, overcoming 
 the latter, had resisted the demands of the enemies of the 
 Seminoles for their exile from Florida ; who had hurled the 
 united nation against the Americans for two years, foiling all 
 their efforts and defeating all their armies, languished and pined 
 in his lonely cell at St. Augustine. The high independence of 
 feeling, which had never before known restraint, became enfee 
 bled, and sunk as the chances of escape passed away. His 
 proud spirit was broken by -defeat and imprisonment. For 
 greater security he was removed from St. Augustine to Fort 
 Moultrie, Charleston Harbor. This removal plunged him into 
 a melancholy which never left him. Hope was gone, and the 
 conviction that he was forever banished from his native land 
 weighed and wore upon his spirits until nature became ex 
 hausted. He declined to see visitors, and, refusing all suste 
 nance, sat alone in his dark dungeon brooding, brooding over the 
 mighty sorrows of his people and the overwhelming disasters 
 which had befallen him. 
 
 One morning, when his keeper came to the cell, he called to 
 Osceola, but the young chieftain did not reply. He called again, 
 louder and more sharply, but no answer came save the mocking 
 echo from the stone walls of the dungeon. Suspicious and 
 alarmed, the man procured help and opened the door of the dun- 
 
706 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 geon. Groping around by the light of a tallow candle to the 
 spot where lay a heap of mouldy straw, which formed the bed 
 of the prisoner, there they found him cold and unresponsive in 
 death. At the age of thirty-three years the young, the brill 
 iant, the great Osceola, a brave and generous enemy, a proud 
 and manly man, the noblest offspring of his suffering people, 
 died thus of a broken heart. 
 
 In December, 1837, Colonel Zachary Taylor, at the head of 
 
 a thousand men ad 
 vanced one hundred 
 and fifty miles into 
 the enemy's coun 
 try, through an un- 
 explored wilder 
 ness of jungles and 
 bayous, crossing a 
 dozen streams 
 every day, over 
 which there were 
 no bridges, and 
 traveling without 
 guides in the face 
 of a numerous and 
 powerful foe. 
 Toward the latter 
 part of the month 
 
 ZACHARY TAYLOR. ft^y came U p w ith 
 
 a large body of warriors, commanded by Alligator. The Indians 
 were encamped on the hard sandy beach on the north side of 
 the great Lake Okeechobee. Between the whites and the 
 Indians lay a morass three quarters of a mile wide, covered 
 with a thick growth of saw-grass five feet high and three feet 
 deep in mud and water. The swamp extended on either side 
 as far as the eye could reach. It was totally impassable for 
 horses, and nearly so for men. 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 707 
 
 The soldiers dismounted, and relieving themselves of all 
 unnecessary weight, prepared to cross the morass and give bat 
 tle to the enemy. In spots where the mire was deep enough for 
 a man to sink out of sight in its treacherous depths, the Indians 
 had cut down the grass, so as to lure the troops into the fatal 
 trap. Notwithstanding these difficulties, the Americans gave 
 battle, and after several hours of hard fighting came out victo 
 rious. At nightfall it was necessary to commence the inevitable 
 retreat, which no victory, however complete, could prevent ; for 
 in this remarkable war the impossibility of transporting provis 
 ions for more than a few days through the aqueous wilderness 
 embarrassed and crippled the American army from first to last. 
 In order to retrace their steps through the swamp in the dark 
 ness, and transport one hundred and twelve wounded men, rude 
 litters were constructed, and a small foot-way built across the 
 swamp. Colonel Taylor brought back his command without 
 further loss, and on the 15th of May, 1838, succeeded General 
 Jessup as commander-in-chief. 
 
 We may not trace the irregular, laborious, and indecisive 
 warfare of the ensuing year. In May, 1839, the Indians again 
 agreed to a cessation of hostilities, and to confine themselves to 
 a designated part of the peninsula. Many of the settlers, sup 
 posing the war was at an end, returned to their homes. 
 
 The throngs of unemployed and starving people, who had 
 fled to the crowded villages for safety, again ventured on their 
 plantations. Their hopes, however, were soon scattered to the 
 winds. In July the Indians, irrepressible and invincible, again 
 began their outrages. Colonel Harney, with twenty-six dra 
 goons and three traders, had proceeded to Charlotte's Harbor, 
 to establish a trading post in pursuance of the agreement with 
 the Indians. They were encamped, with a large supply of In 
 dian goods, in a pine barren on the Coloosahatchee river. At 
 dawn on the 22d of July, they were attacked by a band of war 
 riors commanded by Bow Legs. The men were overpowered in 
 their beds, and, embarrassed by their mosquito-bars, were unable 
 
708 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 to make any effectual resistance. Twenty-four were killed, and 
 two captured. Colonel Harney and two companions escaped, 
 and, after living for days on crabs and oysters, made their way 
 home. 
 
 And so the war was renewed. As before, the Indians were 
 driven from swamp to swamp, from jungle to jungle, and from 
 bayous to lagoons, leading the exhausted, famished, and fever- 
 stricken troops hither and yon in fruitless chases over a region 
 of country embracing more than 45,000 square miles. 
 
 The territorial legislature saw, as every one saw, that the 
 Indians, hemmed in by the sea and unable to fly, would fight 
 until the last brave was exterminated. This war would cost 
 the lives of four or five white men to every Indian that was 
 killed. So the legislature resolved upon an expedient. They 
 sent to Havana, and purchased at an enormous expense the 
 most famous kennel of blood-hounds in the world. With these 
 animals, which had been trained to the pursuit of fugitive slaves, 
 it was purposed to hunt out the Indians, and by this means 
 track, overpower, and kill. Five experienced Spaniards accom 
 panied the troop of blood-hounds. They were attached to each 
 column of troops, attended by tkeir keepers. The animals were 
 fed liberally upon bloody meat, to supply which young calves 
 accompanied each detachment, amd then, being put upon the 
 Indian trail, started forward in the horrible and fiendish pursuit. 
 Such were the means adopted in the nineteenth century to drive 
 a people from the land which was their own. 
 
 The Spanish Indians inhabiting the southern extremity of 
 the peninsula, finding themselves encroached upon more and 
 more by their brethren from the north, who, amid hardships 
 which it is impossible to imagine, much more to describe, were 
 gradually being beaten back by the whites, now began to take 
 a hand in the war. They pillaged certain unfortunate vessels 
 which were wrecked upon their coast, and murdered the seamen. 
 They even attacked the little settlements on the islands along 
 the western coast. Indian Key was a small island about twenty 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 709 
 
 miles from the main-land. Here, among others, lived Doctor 
 Perrine. a scientific man of high literary attainments, who, in 
 spired by an enthusiasm for scientific research, had, with his 
 family, made this spot his home, in order to carry forward an 
 investigation of the botanical species of Florida. 
 
 On the 7th of August, 1840, about two o'clock in the morn 
 ing, the Perrines, in common with the other people of the island, 
 were awakened from their sleep by Indian yells, and a number 
 of shots fired. At that moment the glass in their windows was 
 crushed by missiles from without. Mrs. Perrine and her three 
 children hurried down stairs to a room from which a trap-door 
 led to the cellar. The cellar was used for bathing, the tide fill 
 ing it twice a day. Doctor Perrine saw his family safely down 
 into this place, and then returned to the piazza to find out what 
 was the matter. Mrs. Perrine and her daughters passed through 
 the water and crawled into a small place about three feet high 
 and ten feet long, constructed of plank and rocks, through 
 which the tide had access to the cellar. No sooner were they 
 secreted in this hole than they heard the doctor talking with 
 the Indians in Spanish, and telling them that he was a phy 
 sician. At this the Indians ran off with a shout, joining the 
 others in the work of pillaging, firing other houses on the island, 
 and massacring the inhabitants. Doctor Perrine then shut 
 the trap-door, and placed a heavy chest over it, determined if 
 possible, to conceal the retreat of his family and brave the 
 worst himself. 
 
 At daylight the Indians returned. They commenced batter 
 ing in the doors and windows. The doctor fled to the cupola, 
 which was entered by a heavy trap-door. The Indians swarmed 
 through the rooms in search of the occupants. They turned 
 over beds, broke open closets, and tried every door without suc 
 cess. At last they concentrated their efforts on the heavy door 
 leading to the cupola. For a time it resisted their efforts. 
 At last it gave way beneath their terrific assaults, and with 
 wild yells the Indians rushed up mto the cupola and mas- 
 
710 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 sacred the unfortunate man who had retreated to that spot. 
 All this the family heard from their concealment in the cellar. 
 
 At last the savages were heard to descend the steps and 
 commence smashing the crockery, glass, and doors of the house, 
 taking savage joy in the mere act of destruction. Trunks and 
 chests of clothing were dragged out of the house and loaded 
 into boats. Two Indians came around the house to the place 
 where the plank covered the spot in which Mrs. Perrine and 
 her children were concealed. One of them lifted a board and 
 looked in, but fortunately the family were crouched at the far 
 ther end of the hole, and escaped discovery in the darkness. 
 
 In a little while the unhappy people detected a smell of 
 smoke. It grew stronger and stronger. They could hear the 
 roar of the flames in the dwelling above. In a half an hour the 
 rafters gave way, and the whole flaming structure fell with a 
 terrific crash into the cellar. The smoke became intolerable. 
 The planks above them took fire. To avoid suffocation they 
 plastered their heads with mud, and threw the water constantly 
 over their faces as well as upon the planks, in a vain attempt to 
 extinguish the flames. 
 
 From the spot where the family were concealed, by chance 
 there led a turtle-crawl. Henry Perrine, a lad, in spite of his 
 mother's entreaties, began to scream with the agonies of suffoca 
 tion. Discovering the turtle-crawl through an opening between 
 the posts, he proceeded to push the posts aside, and declaring 
 that he would rather be killed by the savages than burnt to 
 death, attempted to get out. The aperture, however, was too 
 small. With his fingers and nails he tore away the mud into 
 which the palmetto post was sunk, and by the most strenuous 
 efforts pulled it out of its socket. The boy instantly passed 
 into the turtle-crawl and out into the open air. 
 
 Mrs. Perrine and her two daughters, fearful to follow 
 the boy, yet unable to remain where they were, dug away 
 another post and passed under a wharf which was constructed 
 at the spot. On this structure three cords of wood were burn- 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 711 
 
 ing. The floor over their heads was almost consumed, and the 
 coals dropped through upon them as they passed. As they 
 reached the shore the whole structure fell in. Had they been 
 a moment later they would have been buried in a grave of fire. 
 
 Mrs. Perrine at once caught sight of a launch, and beckoning 
 to her son, who was crouching neas by, they waded out to it and 
 sprang aboard. The launch was grounded. The boy and the 
 largest girl at once jumped into the water up to their necks, and 
 managed slowly to push the launch off the shoal. With a pad 
 dle and two poles they proceeded about a mile, when they were 
 picked up by a schooner, to which a number of the inhabitants 
 of the place had already fled for refuge. The launch in which 
 they had made their escape was one which the Indians had 
 been loading with plunder. In a few days the unhappy family 
 were transported to St. Augustine. 
 
 The Seminoles were certainly the most tantalizing of all the 
 American Indians. The entire territory of Florida was divided 
 up among their chiefs, each of whom operated in his own re 
 spective section. Sometimes the blow was one of open violence, 
 sometimes of secret stealth, and not infrequently it was an 
 exasperating prank. Of course the whole country was tired of 
 the war. The officers bit eagerly at every hint at submission 
 by the Indians. 
 
 In November, 1840, after infinite pains, Halleck-Tustenuggee 
 and Tiger Tail were induced to come to Fort King. They re 
 mained three or four days. They pretended the utmost humility, 
 and from their words one would have thought the whole Indian 
 force was about to surrender. They ate very heartily of the 
 provisions of the fort, and several times a day would request 
 the commander to make some one of their band, who appeared 
 to have straggled into the fort by accident, a present of food. 
 These stragglers would at once disappear with the supplies ; no 
 doubt carrying them to a hidden camp, where many a chuckle 
 was indulged in at the expense of the Americans. 
 
 The officers of the fort innocently believed that peace was 
 
712 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 at hand. One morning they found that their artful guests had 
 fled. The whole thing was a trick to secure a few days of high 
 living! The next move of these scamps was more tragic. Fif 
 teen soldiers were escorting Mrs. Montgomery from Micanopy 
 to a point eight miles distant, when they were attacked by In 
 dians. Mrs. Montgomery was killed by a ball in her breast. 
 The handful of men fought hand to hand, but were overpowered 
 and slain. Considerable plunder fell into the hands of the 
 greedy savages. Strange as it may seem, Cosa-Tustenuggee was 
 frightened at this atrocity, for " conscience doth make cowards 
 of us all." He came in soon after and surrendered to the whites, 
 consenting to exile. 
 
 All attempts to track these marauding parties seemed futile. 
 The trail was lost in the nearest marsh, and the clue could not 
 be regained. The Indians made their homes in the center of 
 immense hummocks or jungles. Here, unseen and unsuspected, 
 their squaws cultivated considerable patches of land, and to 
 these retreats they fled for concealment after some outrage. 
 
 Halleck-Tustenuggee's operations, as we have seen, filled the 
 country north, west, and south of St. Augustine with perpetual 
 alarm. In March, 1841, he appeared in the neighborhood of 
 Fort Brooks, on the Oklawaha River. A soldier came out for 
 a hunt, and was shot. The Indians danced and yelled over his 
 body, hoping to tease the garrison into coming out of the fort 
 for an attack. The garrison, believing that a long expected 
 provision train was being attacked, sallied forth, resolving to die 
 in battle rather than of starvation. The valor of the men 
 availed to beat off the Indians with heavy loss, a circumstance 
 which gave their chief food for thought. 
 
 Waxehadjo was a chief, whose face was as ugly as his name, 
 who carried on his bloody warfare near Tampa, on the West 
 Florida coast. One day word was brought to Fort Brooke, at 
 Tampa, of the murder of a mail carrier on the road to Fort 
 Cross. A party of mounted soldiers at once started in pursuit 
 of the murderers. The pursuers came upon them early in the 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMJNOLES. 
 
 morning. The chief and two Indians were sitting by a camp- 
 fire, having just breakfasted on the provisions in the poor mail 
 man's pouch. In the midst of the coals on which the meal had 
 been cooked they had placed the gory head of the murdered 
 victim, where the soldiers were horrified to see it. The two 
 common Indians succeeded in escaping. The chief took refuge 
 in a pool. The white men discovered his hiding place by some 
 bubbles coming up through the water. Several rifles were fired, 
 and a soldier wading in found him grasping the grass in the 
 bottom, in the last agonies of death. His body was nailed to 
 a tree, " as a warning to his companions." Had an Indian done 
 as much to the body of a white enemy, it would have been 
 spoken of as " horrid brutality." 
 
 All ordinary methods of scouting failing, the Americans or 
 ganized " canoe bands," which threaded the inland waters of 
 Florida to their innermost recesses to track out the Indians. 
 This plan, which is another illustration of the fact that genius- 
 for warfare is really a genius for adaptation to the peculiar cir 
 cumstances of the war, was, in a measure, successful. The 
 ordinary movement of troops was entirely inadequate to deal 
 with the problem. " Marches of weeks and months, through 
 deep sand and muddy water, burdened with a knapsack and 
 musket, exposed to a vertical sun and drenching rains, brought 
 the troops no nearer the enemy, who, with his rifle and a few 
 companions, watched their weary progress from day to day, 
 intercepting detachments at every point, with a fleetness, unex 
 ampled, eluding and misleading by their intimate knowledge of 
 the country. Hardly could the troops reach their destination, 
 before the section of the country which they had just left would 
 be alarmed by the inroads of the Indians." 
 
 In January, 1841, four hundred men set out from Tampa 
 toward the Kissimmee River. On the way the men built Fort 
 Carroll, and encamped later at Fort Gardner. The whole coun 
 try was found to be overflowed. Finding it impossible to pro 
 ceed with their plan, it was resolved to attempt an ' interview 
 
714 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 with the great Coacoochee, or Wild Cat, who was believed to 
 inhabit an island in Lake Tohopekaliga. Micco, an aged Indian, 
 friendly to the Americans, undertook to hunt up the chief, and 
 try to arrange for a council. As a special reason for believing 
 that this might be secured, the whites had in their camp 
 the daughter of Coacoochee, who had been captured in a skir 
 mish. The chief himself had been committing a new outrage, 
 having killed and robbed a party of strolling actors near St. 
 Augustine, and was concealed with unusual care. 
 
 Micco at last returned, saying that Coacoochee was hid in a 
 cypress swamp, four days' journey from the camp, but that he 
 had consented to come in and have a talk. On the appointed 
 day he was seen approaching the camp, accompanied by seven 
 trusty warriors. A qurious sight presented itself. From the 
 plunder of the theatrical party the Indians had rigged them 
 selves out in all the gaudy finery of the stage. Coacoochee 
 was dressed in the toga of imperial purple, which cloaked the 
 noble form of Julius Caesar. Another wore the hideous cos 
 tume of Richard III. Horatio in modest garb walked swiftly 
 by the side of Falstaff. Scarlet vests and glittering spangles 
 were distributed freely among the singular company. 
 
 At the sound of her father's voice Coacoochee's daughter 
 sprang past the guard at the door of her tent, and ran to his 
 open arms. With the instinct of a savage she gave him at once 
 a handful of broken cartridges and bullets, which she had picked 
 up around the camp. The young chief won the confidence of 
 the whites by his noble and open bearing and eloquent tongue. 
 " The white man comes ; he grows pale and sick here, while his 
 red brother thrives in the land the Great Spirit has given him. 
 Why may we not live here in peace? The white men are as 
 thick as the leaves in the hummock. They come upon us thicker 
 every day. They may shoot us ; they may drive our children 
 night and day ; they may chain our hands and feet, but the red 
 man's heart will be always free." Yet he ended by promising 
 to assemble his people at Tampa, and take them into exile. 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 715 
 
 Coacoochee was perhaps sincere in his professions. For 
 many months he claimed to be working to induce his tribe to 
 emigrate. But the patience of the whites was exhausted. On 
 the 21st of May, 1842, he came to Fort Pierce, as he had been 
 accustomed to do to request supplies of whisky and food. His 
 arrest, previously decided upon, was put into execution. He 
 was at first taken to New Orleans, but was returned in chains 
 to Tampa Bay. 
 
 Meanwhile the war proceeded somewhat more favorably for 
 the Americans, but with the usual number of romantic incidents. 
 In June an expedition of forty trained scouts set out to surprise 
 the camp of Halleck-Tustenuggee. The men, after a fatiguing 
 journey, arrived at the edge of a swamp, six miles wide, on 
 the opposite side of which the Indians were supposed to be 
 encamped. It was the hour of midnight. The horses were 
 hastily picketed, and every useless burden left on the margin 
 of the morass. To the dense shades of the cypress swamp was 
 added the darkness of a moonless night. Guided by stalwart 
 negroes, unable to see their hands before them, marching through 
 the water four feet deep, the force of two hundred men started 
 across the swamp. 
 
 At daybreak a halt was called. Just forty-six men were 
 present. The rest were struggling through the swamps, or had 
 ceased all struggles forever. The men crawled stealthily toward 
 the cluster of Indian huts, which was in sight. A gun was fired 
 when close to the lodges to rouse the occupants, but the breath 
 less watchers were chagrined to discover not a sign of life. The 
 dull rumble of the explosion died away among the cypress-trees, 
 but no war-whoop met the ears of the white men, and no sav 
 ages attempted to escape. Not a human being occupied the 
 huts. The men could only express their chagrin and disappoint 
 ment, after all their fruitless toil, by setting fire to the sheds. 
 The weary march back, through the shades of death, was all 
 that remained for them. 
 
 Another band of scouts scoured the Wahoo swamp. Four 
 
716 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 large corn-fields with growing crops were found hidden in the 
 recesses of the vast morass. While destroying these, early one 
 morning, an Indian was discovered approaching in a canoe. 
 Perceiving the white men, he instantly put about and using 
 his paddle with wonderful effect, made every effort to escape. 
 Finding himself unable to avoid his pursuers, he sprang from 
 his canoe and disappeared in the swamp. Several shots were 
 fired at him, and he was believed to have fallen. The soldiers 
 jumped from their boats into four feet of water, and searched 
 the swamp in all directions. His canoe floated idly on the stag 
 nant water, and the spot where the Indian had jumped was 
 marked by the break in the heavy green scum, but the savage 
 himself was nowhere to be seen. Months afterward this man 
 was captured. He said that the soldiers on this occasion had 
 passed right by him while he lay concealed in the water, cover 
 ing his face with a leaf of a pond lily. 
 
 Coacoochee reached Tampa Bay early in July, 1841. On 
 the morning of the 4th he and his warriors, loaded with chains, 
 were brought up on the deck of the transport, which was 
 anchored in the harbor, for a council with Colonel Worth, who 
 had become commander-in-chief of the Florida army. The coun 
 cil was a dramatic occasion. The spirit of the Indians was 
 utterly broken by their misfortunes. Colonel Worth spoke 
 firmly but kindly to his great captive, giving him to understand 
 that the war must end, and that unless Coacoochee induced his 
 tribe to emigrate within a certain time to Arkansas, that he and 
 his warriors should be hung. At the close of his speech there 
 was a long silence. 
 
 At last a clanking of chains announced that Coacoochee was 
 struggling to his feet to reply. In eloquent words he reviewed 
 his life and the misfortunes of his people, and at last came to 
 the practical question of the moment. "You say I must end 
 the war! Look at these irons! Can I go to my warriors? 
 Coacoochee chained? No; do not ask me to see them. I never 
 wish to tread upon my land unless I am free. If I can go to 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEM1NOLES. 717 
 
 them unchained, they will follow me in ; but I fear they will not 
 obey me when I talk to them in irons. They will say my 
 heart is weak; that I am afraid. Could I go free they will 
 surrender and emigrate." 
 
 Of course this was impossible. Once more Colonel Worth 
 assured him that unless his people would come in by an ap 
 pointed day, the setting sun would witness his execution. The 
 vessel lay two miles from the shore. The prisoners were sur 
 rounded day and night by strong guards. Escape was impos 
 sible. So Coacoochee accepted the terms. 
 
 Five trusty messengers were released to carry his talk to 
 his people. To them he said : "If your hearts are bad, let me 
 see them now ; take them in your hands and let me know that 
 they are false; but do not, like dogs, bite me as soon as you 
 turn your backs. Say to my band that my feet are chained, 
 yet I send them my word as true from the heart as if I were 
 with them. The great white chief says when my band comes 
 in, I shall again walk free. He has given you forty days to do 
 this business in. Take these sticks; here are thirty-nine, one 
 for each day; this, much larger than the rest, with blood upon 
 it, is the fortieth. When the others are thrown away, and this 
 only remains, say to my people that with the setting sun Coa 
 coochee hangs like a dog, with none but white men to hear his 
 last words." 
 
 The voice of the speaker had sunk almost to a whisper. The 
 awed bystanders heard some broken words, by which he sent a 
 remembrance to his wife and child. With this the scene ended. 
 The chains were taken from the five messengers, and they 
 stepped over the side of the vessel into a row-boat. The chief, 
 whose fate they held in their hands, stood immovable, following 
 them with his eyes as far as they could be seen. During the 
 days that followed the lines of anxiety in his face deepened 
 perceptibly. He would sit all day with his eyes turned land 
 ward, looking eagerly for the appearance of his people. When 
 the sun set each day far across the lonely gulf, without the 
 
 40 
 
718 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 arrival of any Indians, he sighed heavily, and sank into deeper 
 melancholy. 
 
 Coacoochee's people were loyal to him. In time they began 
 to gather on the low shores of Tampa Bay. The chief's spirits 
 revived. At last the full number of his band were present. 
 When the news was announced the whole bearing of the man 
 changed. From the humble and gloomy captive, he altered 
 suddenly into the proud and haughty chief. " Take off my 
 irons," he cried, " that I may once more meet my warriors like 
 a man." This, though hazardous, was done, that the promise 
 of Colonel Worth might be fulfilled. Coacoochee dressed him 
 self in his grandest attire. His breast glittered with silver 
 ornaments. A red sash was bound around his waist. Three 
 ostrich plumes ornamented his crimson turban. Impatiently 
 springing into the boat, he started for the shore. As his foot 
 touched the soil, he drew his manly form to its utmost height, 
 waved his arms, and uttered a terrific whoop. 
 
 Though Coacoochee's tribe had thus submitted, the work was 
 but begun. His wide influence was yet to be exerted over 
 other bands and chiefs. Eighty miles south of Tampa Bay, 
 the Americans had pitched a camp on Pease Creek, for the 
 purpose of having a basis for an invasion of the Big Cypress 
 Swamp and the Everglades. To this camp Sole-Micco, a 
 friendly Indian, one day came for refuge. Four months pre 
 vious he had gone to carry a friendly talk to Hospetarke. Just 
 before his arrival among the latter's band, a council had been 
 held which had decreed that the bearer of any message from 
 the whites should be put to death. 
 
 Sole-Micco was suspected, but swore that he was hunting 
 for his mother, who was believed to reside somewhere in Big 
 Swamp. The prophet of the tribe announced that he would find 
 out whether the story was true. He built ten fires in a circle, 
 divided his time between praying and dancing, got out his sup 
 plies of roots, snake skins, and young alligators, examined the 
 palm of the Indian, and at last announced that the latter had 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEM1NOLES. 719 
 
 lied. Had not Sole-Micco had some relatives in the band who 
 prepared to fight in his behalf, he would have been killed. 
 
 When Sole-Micco reported to Coacoochee the hostility of 
 this band and the vicious influence of the prophet, the chief 
 feared lest he might render other bands unmanageable. He 
 at once sent his younger brother to the band with a peace-talk. 
 Hospetarke agreed to come into the camp on Pease Creek and 
 hold a council. For a week the old rascal kept sending word 
 to the camp each day that he was coming, but was very old, 
 very sick, and very tired, and required whisky, food, and 
 tobacco to give him strength to make the journey. His state 
 ments must have been true, as he could only travel two or 
 three miles a day without sending in for more supplies. While 
 he was advancing at a snail's pace, Coacoochee was also on his 
 way to Pease Creek. The latter arriving, was suffered to go 
 alone to the old Indian's camp and bring him in. 
 
 It was evident that the old chief was simply playing a game, 
 and that he must be met with a counter-stratagem. A council 
 was appointed to be held in the cabin of the vessel which had 
 brought Colonel Worth and Coacoochee down the coast. The 
 Indians assembled in the apartment at the appointed hour, and 
 were secretly surrounded by soldiers. At a given signal the 
 doors were closed and every Indian was made a prisoner. Wild 
 and fierce was the storm of abuse which raged when the Indians 
 discovered the treachery. At this moment Coacoochee, in order 
 that he might not be believed to have a share in the conspir 
 acy, came into the cabin with a whisky bottle in his hand, pre 
 tending to be drunk. He railed at the white men for betraying 
 his friends, while he was enjoying his bottle, and succeeded in 
 diverting all suspicion from himself. The warriors selected a 
 few messengers to bring in their women and children, and the 
 whole band was then taken to Tampa Bay in chains. 
 
 The assemblage of Indians at Tampa Bay became restless. 
 Coacoochee had exhausted his ingenuity in the way of ball- 
 plays, dances and games, to content the Indians and occupy 
 
720 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 their minds while the plans for securing the submission of others 
 were being executed. The assemblage was becoming impatient 
 and explosive. Numbers of troops guarded the camp at every 
 point. At night a space of two miles' square was lit up by 
 lines of beacon fires, so that the movements of every person 
 in the camp were distinctly visible. Coacoochee was anxious to 
 bring the long delay to a close. The eleventh day of October 
 was set as the day for sailing. 
 
 As soon as the announcement was made, the camp became 
 the scene of strange activities. Young and old, little and big, 
 set to work pounding corn for the journey. The fabulous stories 
 which had so long been current were revived. A dozen times 
 a day Coacoochee, who had been to New Orleans and back, was 
 called upon to reassure his people that when at sea, beyond the 
 sight of land, they were not to be cast overboard. 
 
 The departure from their native land into exile was a sor 
 rowful experience. Yet the interests and feelings of the multi 
 tude, packed into the little vessel, were widely different. First 
 there were the Seminoles, of whom we have heard much. Then 
 there were the negroes. These latter were isolated by a bar 
 barism, a savagery peculiar to themselves. They were mostly 
 runaways, or captives taken by the Indians from their masters 
 in Georgia and Alabama. They had their own sorrows, which it 
 does not fall within the scope of this book to detail. If the 
 records of the time are to be believed, they were far more 
 blood-thirsty, more fiercely brutal, more utterly inhuman, than 
 the Indians themselves. They gloried in the war because peace 
 meant to them simply slavery, while w r ar meant wild and hid 
 eous license. "Ten resolute negroes," it is said, "with a knowl 
 edge of the country, were sufficient to desolate the frontier from 
 one end to the other." 
 
 Besides these two unhappy peoples there were also a small 
 number of Mickasukie Indians. These were the original occu 
 pants of Florida. They regarded with equal bitterness and 
 hatred the negroes, the Seminoles, and the whites. To them 
 
THE SORROWS OF THE SEMINOLES. 723 
 
 they were all alike, invaders and enemies. Halleck Tustenug- 
 gee was their chief. In camp they had obstinately refused 
 rations, when issued with those of the Seminoles or negroes. 
 Even when packed on board the filthy vessel they refused to 
 share the society of the unhappy wretches about them, but 
 shut themselves off in one corner of the ship in the solitude 
 of sorrow. 
 
 Thus, loaded with people of such different varieties of 
 wretchedness, the vessel moved slowly down the bay. In the 
 dense throng now and then a convulsive sob escaped from the 
 negroes or the squaws, but in general the crowd preserved a 
 profound silence. Hour after hour they watched the receding 
 shores with fixed and melancholy gaze until twilight hid them 
 from their view. In the morning no land was in sight. With 
 the departure of Coacoochee the most dangerous and the most 
 noble of all the Indian chiefs was removed from Florida. 
 
 The war in Florida continued to rage for a year or two 
 longer. Little by little the genius of Colonel Worth availed to 
 detach separate bands of Indians from the rest, obtain their sub 
 mission, and transport them to Arkansas. The American troops 
 who had become rather scouts than soldiers, threaded their way 
 to the darkest and most inaccessible spots in Florida, hunted the 
 Indians from their hiding places, captured the warriors, and 
 humiliated their chiefs. Of all the Indians in the territory at 
 the beginning of the war only one hundred and twenty, capable 
 of bearing arms, remained at its close. The policy of the United 
 States in this war has always been regarded as a blot on her 
 fame. Such a policy has never been pursued toward any other 
 tribe of Indians. The Sorrows of the Seminoles did not end 
 with their exile to Arkansas. It is safe to say that they will 
 not do so until the last unhappy descendant of the tribe which 
 produced Osceola and Coacoochee shall have passed to the happy 
 hunting grounds. 
 
724 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 BLACK HAWK'S HUMILIATION. 
 
 HE Sac Indians have a curious account of cre 
 ation. According to their story, the gods in 
 the beginning created the earth and every spe 
 cies of bird, beast, and fish. They next cre 
 ated a man. But this creature, as may easily 
 be believed, was shortly discovered to be both 
 cruel and foolish. To improve him the gods 
 put into him the heart of the best beast they 
 had created. This, however, failed to improve its perverse 
 owner. So the Almighty took a piece of himself, of which he 
 made a heart for the man, who at once became wise and gentle. 
 The earth, meanwhile, brought forth fruits in abundance. Be 
 sides man it was inhabited by innumerable giants and gods. 
 It seems, according to this tale, that another tribe of gods, 
 who had their home under the seas, had a fuss with the gods 
 of the earth. The former pooled their issues with the giants 
 for the purpose of destroying their common enemy. A council 
 was held, at which, after much debate, it was decided that the 
 allies were still too weak to attack Wesukkah, the chief god of 
 the earth. So they conceived a stratagem. A great feast was 
 to be prepared on the earth, to which Wesukkah should be 
 invited. At an opportune moment his enemies would then fall 
 upon him and put him to death. But Wesukkah was wide 
 awake. No sooner had the council decided on this plan than 
 Wesukkah's younger brother appeared in the midst of the 
 assembly. He was at once inquired of, "Where is thy brother 
 
BLACK HA WK'S HUMILIA TIVN. 725 
 
 Wesukkah?" to which he replied, "I know not; am I my 
 brother's keeper?" The conspirators, seeing their plan was dis 
 covered, instantly slew the young god. 
 
 Wesukkah was deeply grieved at the fate of his brother. 
 The gods who dwell above the clouds, hearing his noisy lamenta 
 tions, came down and offered to help him destroy his enemies. 
 Frightened at their danger, the gods from under the sea had run 
 off, leaving their friends, the giants, alone upon earth. The 
 battle-field between Wesukkah and the giants was a flame of 
 fire. The giants fought bravely, but were utterly destroyed, 
 not one of their number being left alive. 
 
 The gods under the sea, frightened at the fate of their allies, 
 instantly besought their friends for help. The call was not un 
 heeded. Through the influence of the deities of the thunder 
 and the wind, the god of the cold, with his dreadful armies of 
 frost, snow, hail and ice, came from the north, and smote the 
 whole earth. Every river, lake, and sea was converted into solid 
 ice. For many days enormous hailstones, the size of a man's 
 head, smote the inhabitants of the earth. When the storm 
 ceased, all of them, both men, beasts, and gods, save a few 
 choice ones of each kind, which Wesukkah had covered with 
 the hollow of his hand, were found to have perished. 
 
 In the process of time, the gods of the sea ventured to peep 
 out from their hiding-place, and seeing Wesukkah almost entirely 
 alone upon the earth, thought that now their enemy might indeed 
 be conquered. Every attempt failed, and the gods of the sea, 
 finding themselves unable to secure the earth for their own 
 habitation, gnashed their teeth, and resolved to destroy it alto 
 gether. They besought the god of thunder for aid, and he, 
 calling together all his clouds, commanded them to pour water 
 upon the earth. This order they obeyed, and the flood contin 
 ued until the whole surface of the earth, including the highest 
 mountains, was covered with water. 
 
 Wesukkah, however, saw the deluge coming, and took some 
 air to make himself a boat. Into this he went, taking with him 
 
726 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a few of every sort of living creature, including man. The air 
 boat floated safely on the top of ihe flood. After a good while, 
 Wesukkah commanded a fish to go down into the waters, and 
 bring up some earth from the bottom. After great difficulty, 
 the fish returned with a mouthful of dirt, out of which Wesuk 
 kah, spreading it forth on the surface of the water, formed this 
 earth. Tired with their long confinement, he and the creatures 
 that were with him in his air boat came forth and inhabited it. 
 
 Though the Sacs have such a specific account of creation, 
 they have neglected to preserve their subsequent history with 
 any thing like detail. All we know is, that they and the Foxes 
 once inhabited the shores of the St. Lawrence. Being attacked 
 by the Iroquois, they fled to the western shores of Lake Michi 
 gan, and thence to the valley of the Mississippi. Elsewhere we 
 have related the story of the assassination of the great Pontiac 
 in an Illinois village. This murder was the cause of one of the 
 most terrible Indian wars known to history. The Sacs and 
 Foxes from the north, together with a large number of Pon- 
 tiacean tribes,- invaded the fertile plains of the Illinois, overran 
 the country, destroyed the villages, and almost utterly annihil 
 ated the great Illinois confederacy, of which the Kaskaskias, the 
 Peorias, the Miamis, and the Meas were but individual tribes. 
 
 Having subjugated and massacred the inhabitants of the fair 
 region to which the name of the ruined confederacy is still given, 
 the Sacs and Foxes determined to remain in the delightful 
 country. Their principal village was constructed on the east 
 side of Rock River, near its junction with the Mississippi. Of 
 this region a traveler said, more than a century ago, " It is 
 healthy and amazingly fruitful. The grape, the plum, the goose 
 berry, and various other native fruits abound. The wild honey 
 suckle gives its perfume to the air, and a thousand indigenous 
 flowers mingle their diversified hues with the verdure of the plain." 
 
 As usual, the difficulties of the United States with these 
 tribes grew out of a treaty. It was made in 1804, and in it it 
 was agreed by the Indians to give up about all their territory east 
 
BLACK HA WK'S HUMILIA TION. 72 7 
 
 of the Mississippi, for a small annuity. The origin of this treaty 
 was claimed by the Indians to be as follows : In 1804 some of 
 the Sacs went down to St. Louis to try to secure the release 
 of one of their friends, who was under arrest for murder. The 
 party was absent a long time. When they returned they were 
 dressed in fine clothes, and each man possessed a silver medal. 
 They related to their tribe that after having requested the 
 Americans to release their friend, the governor told them that 
 he wanted some land. Papers were drawn up and eagerly 
 signed by the Indians, thinking that the safety of their friend 
 was secured. They were supplied with a great deal of whisky, 
 and were so drunk during their stay that they could only 
 remember that their friend, instead of being restored to them, 
 was called out before them and shot dead by a file of soldiers. 
 This is the account which the great chieftain of the Sacs after 
 ward gave of the treaty. 
 
 When the war of 1812 broke out, Black Hawk, a rising 
 young warrior of the tribe, yielding to the solicitations of 
 Tecumseh and the omnipresent Simon Girty, resolved to join 
 the British army, taking with him five hundred braves. Black 
 Hawk soon wearied of the war and returned home. On his 
 way he visited an old man, the father of a boy which Black 
 Hawk had adopted. The old Indian, lying at the point of 
 death, feebly related the following story: 
 
 After Black Hawk's departure to the war, he, with a few 
 others, repaired to a white settlement on Salt River, to pass the 
 winter. He and his boy had pitched their wigwam near a small 
 fort, of which the occupants seemed friendly. One evening the 
 young hunter did not return to the lodge. In the morning the 
 old man and his squaw, with hearts full of apprehension, started 
 on a search for the wanderer. They followed his tracks through 
 the snow till a deer trail was reached. Pursuing this for some 
 distance, they found a dressed deer which he had killed, hang 
 ing to a tree. At this point also, were the tracks of white men. 
 The snow was greatly disturbed, as if the spot had been the 
 
728 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 scene of a struggle. In one place they discovered a stain of 
 blood on the white surface. The tracks of the men turned 
 toward the fort. Not far distant the boy was found lying 
 dead shot, stabbed, and scalped. Black Hawk had been much 
 attached to this boy, and was deeply angered at the outrage. 
 Rejoining his warriors, he told them the story, and the whole 
 body resolved to return to the war. 
 
 When Tecumseh fell dead in the battle of the Thames, Black 
 Hawk was fighting by his side. We have seen how Brant 
 had fought under the great Pontiac years before he himself 
 came into fame. It is not extravagant to say that the mind 
 and career of Brant were powerfully influenced by the char 
 acter and fame of the mighty leader whom he thus supported. 
 Tecumseh himself, though born after Pontiac had been buried 
 in his forest grave, was, even more than Brant, a pupil of the 
 great conspirator. The far-reaching influence of Pontiac, which 
 did not die with its author, may therefore be traced in Black 
 Hawk. It may be said that Black Hawk was but an echo of 
 Tecumseh, and thus indirectly of Pontiac himself. "The evil 
 that men do lives after them." 
 
 Few incidents are related of Black Hawk from the time of 
 the close of the war of 1812 to the year 1832, when he became 
 famous. About 1820 a young Sac killed an Indian of the Iowa 
 tribe. In imitation of the whites, these tribes had arranged 
 to surrender the murderer, to be dealt with by the friends of 
 the murdered man. A party of Sacs, with Black Hawk at their 
 head, prepared for the diplomatic journey to the lowas, which 
 the occasion demanded. At the moment of departure they dis 
 covered that the young man who had committed the murder 
 was ill. He would nevertheless have accompanied them had 
 not his brother interfered. The latter, with high generosity, 
 insisted that his brother was too sick to travel, and that he 
 would go and die in his place. 
 
 After a journey of seven days the party arrived within 
 sight of the Iowa village. The young brave went calmly for- 
 
BLACK HA WK'8 HUMILIA TION. 729 
 
 ward, singing his death-song, and seated himself in the midst 
 of the lodges. A deputation of chiefs came out from the vil 
 lage, with whom Black Hawk held a short talk, explaining that 
 the young warrior, who had surrendered himself to them, had, 
 on account of his brother's sickness, taken his place, and had 
 come to die in his stead. The talk ended. The lowas, with 
 impassive countenances, returned to the village. Black Hawk 
 and his companions took a last look at their doomed friend, 
 about whom a crowd, armed with sticks and stones, was already 
 gathering, and sadly turned their faces homeward. 
 
 That evening, while in camp, the rapid gallop of a horse 
 was heard. The dusky company seized their arms, with every 
 ear-attent and every eye strained to pierce the darkness. The 
 horse came nearer and nearer. Suddenly the rider reined in 
 and leaped from his saddle, right into their midst. It was the 
 young brave who had been left behind. The lowas had at first 
 threatened him. But when his generosity and self-sacrifice 
 became known there was a sudden revulsion of feeling among 
 these simple children of the forest. Nature taught them to 
 instinctively recognize and worship the hero. It is civilization 
 and life in cities, greed and selfishness, which blunt this fine 
 instinct, and teach men to ignore and sneer at heroism. The 
 lowas had not only released their prisoner, but sent him back 
 to his people with a present of two fine horses. 
 
 A year or two after this touching incident Black Hawk and 
 the band of warriors, who with admiring devotion followed the 
 footsteps of their leader everywhere, were encamped on the 
 Two Rivers on a hunting expedition. One day some white set 
 tlers met him in the forest, and accused him of having killed 
 some of their hogs. Black Hawk understood their language 
 but imperfectly. At last, gathering the idea, he indignantly 
 denied the charge. The white ruffians forthwith jumped on 
 him, snatched away his gun and rendered it useless by firing it 
 in the air, and proceeded to beat him most unmercifully with 
 sticks. They then returned the gun, kicked him, and told him 
 
730 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 to leave the neighborhood. From this outrage Black Hawk 
 never recovered. The humiliation of his proud spirit was 
 insufferable. 
 
 In the summer of 1823 the United States urged upon the 
 Sacs and Foxes the necessity of a removal, in accordance with 
 the treaty of 1804, of which we have spoken, to the west bank 
 of the Mississippi. This caused a division in the tribe. Keo- 
 kuk, the great peace chief of the Sacs, whose ascendancy and 
 influence was rapidly overshadowing that of Black Hawk, 
 favored the removal, and with a majority of the tribe withdrew 
 to the Iowa River. Black Hawk, of course, took the opposite 
 side to that of his rival, in which position he found not a few 
 supporters. 
 
 The site of their village at the mouth of Rock River was, 
 as has been said, one of the most delightful spots in the north- 
 we'st. Besides its natural advantages and the beauty of the 
 scenery, the place was endeared to every heart by associations. 
 For unnumbered years the dead of every family had been buried 
 under the shadow of the stately forest trees. Every sorrow of 
 the past was a tie which bound their hearts to the place. Every 
 joy which they had experienced was associated in memory with 
 this home. To leave the one seemed to be giving up the other. 
 So Black Hawk entered a violent remonstrance against the pro 
 ceedings of the whites, and refused to stir. He even went fur 
 ther. When a white man undertook to sell whisky to his peo 
 ple Black Hawk, with two or three companions, went to the 
 house and rolled out the barrels. He then broke in the heads, 
 and spilled the liquor on the ground. 
 
 The difficulties increased with time. Black Hawk and .his 
 people, returning from their winter hunt, found their lodges 
 occupied by white settlers, who claimed to have bought the 
 land. To this Black Hawk replied, that his reason taught him 
 that land could not be sold. In this remark of an ignorant 
 savage, who spoke purely from instinct, there is food for reflec 
 tion. If we open the works of the English philosopher, Mill, 
 
BLACK HA IVK'8 HUMILIATION, 
 
 31 
 
 we find him, after an elaborate induction, arriving at the same 
 conclusion. The theory of our law says that the owner of land 
 is entitled to the possession of it, and any one who enters 
 thereon without his permission, does so without right, and is a 
 trespasser. If this be 
 true, he inquires,why 
 then might not a 
 small minority, say a 
 million men, of enor 
 mous wealth, buy up 
 every foot of land on 
 the globe, and as to 
 them every other 
 man, woman, and 
 child become tres 
 passers, wrong-doers 
 in the eye of the 
 law, legally liable to 
 be driven off the 
 globe? The hand 
 of the philosopher 
 reaches down from 
 the heights and BLACK HAWK. 
 
 grasps that of the savage extended upward from the depths. 
 But Black Hawk had another argument. He said that even 
 if his land could be sold, it never had been. To these argu 
 ments, one or the other of which every fair man will say was 
 true, the United States had but a single reply. That reply 
 consisted of one word "MOVE!" The squaws had planted their 
 corn, and it was beginning to grow. The white men deliber 
 ately plowed it up. Black Hawk told the settlers that they 
 must get off of his land. At this the governor of Illinois pro 
 nounced the territory to be in a state of "actual invasion." 
 Seven hundred troops started up the river to "remove the 
 Indians, dead or alive, to the west side of the Mississippi." 
 
732 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 A council was held at Fort Armstrong. Black Hawk was 
 present. He heard the demands of the white man. After 
 listening patiently, he rose and made the usual reply, that his 
 lands could not be and never had been sold. At- the close of 
 his speech, General Gaines inquired "Who is Black Hawk? Is 
 he a chief? By what right does he appear in council?" To 
 this insult, which meant that the United States refused to rec 
 ognize any other chief among the Sacs than Keokuk, who was 
 present to witness the humiliation of his rival, no reply was 
 made. With quivering features, Black Hawk arose, gathered 
 his blanket around him, and stalked in silence from the coun 
 cil-hall. On the following morning he was again in his seat. 
 When the council opened he arose, and with biting emphasis 
 said : " My father, you inquired yesterday ' Who is Black 
 Hawk? Why does he sit among the chiefs?' I will tell you 
 who I am. I am a Sac. My father was a Sac. I am a war 
 rior. So was my father. Ask those young men who have fol 
 lowed me to battle, and they will tell you who Black Hawk is. 
 Provoke our people to war, and you will learn who Black 
 Hawk is." 
 
 Matters were at a dead lock concerning the removal of the 
 Indians. Seven hundred militia-men were on the ground. On 
 the 25th of June, being in the year 1831, sixteen hundred 
 mounted re-enforcements arrived. This was the key to the lock. 
 That night Black Hawk and his braves, with their women and 
 children, fled from the village which their fathers had built, 
 without the firing of a gun. In the morning they were seen on 
 the west bank of the Mississippi. Above them floated a white 
 flag. This occurrence was heralded through the. country as "a 
 great victory over General Black Hawk." 
 
 New troubles awaited the exiles. It was too late in the 
 season for them to plant corn and beans a second time. This, 
 however, did not do away with the necessity for them. One 
 night some of the warriors, heartsick at the cries of the women 
 and children for food, crossed the river, as Black Hawk says, 
 
EL A CK HA WK'S HUMILIA TION. 733 
 
 " to steal roasting-ears from their own fields." They were fired 
 upon by the whites, and foiled in their efforts. This was rub 
 bing salt in fresh wounds. 
 
 The condition of the Indians was miserable. The Winne 
 bagoes, occupying what is now the state of Wisconsin, seeing 
 the distresses of their friends, invited Black Hawk, in the Spring 
 of 1832, to bring his people to their country, and raise a crop 
 of beans and corn. The old chief, overwhelmed with trouble, 
 fearful lest his followers would desert to Keokuk, of whose 
 prosperity and fortune he was intensely jealous, found himself 
 looked to by his people to extricate them from their troubles. 
 He had never been a man of great resources, and, besides this, 
 was now overtaken by age and disappointment. Not knowing 
 what better to do, he accepted the invitation, placed his women 
 and children in canoes, and with his warriors armed and mounted, 
 started up the Mississippi. 
 
 Having, in the early part of April, reached a point opposite 
 their old home at the mouth of Rock River, they, perhaps 
 rashly, but certainly without any wicked or hostile intent, crossed 
 to the east side of the Mississippi, with the avowed purpose of 
 ascending Rock River to the villages of the Winnebagoes. They 
 had proceeded up Rock River but a short distance when General 
 Atkinson, the commandant at Fort Armstrong, sent a messenger 
 after Black Hawk, ordering him to return. The old chief re 
 fused to obey, explaining that he was going to visit the Winne 
 bagoes on their invitation, and raise a crop of corn with them. 
 A second messenger brought a repetition of the order, with a 
 threat that unless they obeyed peaceably they would be pursued 
 and forced to return. At this point Black Hawk also found 
 that the Winnebagoes did not desire his presence in their coun 
 try if it would involve them in hostilities with the United States. 
 He resolved, therefore, that if pursued he would return peace 
 ably to the western side of the Mississippi. With true Indian 
 dilatoriness, he stopped to compliment some visiting chiefs with 
 a dog feast. He was engaged in the preparation for this, when 
 
734 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 he was informed that a large army had approached within eight 
 miles of his camp. 
 
 Three young Indians were at once sent out with a flag of 
 truce, to ask for a council and arrange for a peaceable retreat. 
 These messengers were deliberately taken prisoners by the 
 whites. Finding that they did not return, Black Hawk sent 
 out five others to learn what was the matter. These were pur 
 sued by twenty horsemen, and two of them killed. At the time 
 of the army's approach, Black Hawk had with him only forty 
 warriors, whom he concealed in ambush. The rest were ten 
 miles away. When the troops approached, the Indians fired, 
 and the soldiers fled in a panic. In the reports of this defeat, 
 the Indian force was gravely asserted to have exceeded fifteen 
 hundred men. All the blankets, provisions, and camp equipage 
 of the Americans fell into Black Hawk's hands. 
 
 The old chief, elated by his victory, and encouraged by re- 
 enforcements, as well as enraged at the murder of the bearers of 
 his flags of truce, resolved to fight rather than retreat beyond 
 the Mississippi. A bloody border war followed. Farm houses 
 were attacked, horses stolen, and settlers murdered as usual. 
 In the early engagements of the war, the Indians had the ad 
 vantage. When the whole force of the American army, exceed 
 ing twenty-five hundred men, became available for the conflict, 
 the tide began to turn. Black Hawk and his people commenced 
 a retreat toward the Wisconsin River. The army was in full pur 
 suit. The members of Black Hawk's band were reduced to a diet 
 of roots and horseflesh. Many of them died of actual starvation, 
 and their corpses were found by their pursuers strewn along 
 the pathway of their flight. Reaching the Wisconsin River, 
 the women and children were embarked upon hastily constructed 
 rafts, for a descent toward the Mississippi. On the voyage 
 these helpless people were attacked by troops stationed on shore, 
 some killed, some drowned, and some captured. Of those who 
 escaped to the woods, the majority perished from starvation. 
 
 Meanwhile Black Hawk arid the rest of his band struck out 
 
BLACK HA WK'S HUMILIA TION. 735 
 
 directly across the country toward the Mississippi. Many, 
 weakened by hunger, succumbed to the hardships of the way. 
 A part of the women and children were embarked in canoes as 
 soon as the river was reached. Some of these vessels upset in 
 the river, and their occupants sank beneath the waves. On the 
 1st of August, while the remainder of the Indians were waiting 
 for transportation, they were overtaken and attacked by the 
 troops. Black Hawk again sent forward a messenger with a 
 flag of truce, who was fired upon and killed. Not less than one 
 hundred and fifty Indians, nearly half the entire force, were 
 killed in the. action. Black Hawk, with the remainder, jumped 
 into the river, attempting to swim to the opposite shore. 
 
 During the battle a young squaw with a child in her arms 
 was shot in the breast, and fell covering the child with her body. 
 When the soldiers came up, they heard the cries of the child, 
 and, running to the spot, removed it from beneath the corpse 
 of its mother. One arm of the infant was amputated, and the 
 child afterwards recovered. Among the women who sprang into 
 the river was a squaw with an infant wrapped in a blanket, 
 which she carried in her teeth. The mother seized the tail of 
 a horse which was swimming across, and in this way reached 
 the opposite shore in safety. 
 
 Though Black Hawk escaped alive from this battle, he did 
 not long avoid the toils of his enemies.. His followers deserted 
 him one by one, and he was at last betrayed and captured, 
 through the treachery of two Winnebagoes. He was at once 
 removed to Jefferson Barracks, below St. Louis, and there con 
 fined and forced to wear a ball and chain. The winter was 
 gloomy enough to the old chief. 
 
 Among those who had been captured with him was a young 
 warrior or chief named Naopope. An artist visited the Indians 
 in prison, and sought to paint the likeness of Naopope. ' "Paint 
 me as I am," thundered Cromwell, when an artist sought to hide 
 the hideous warts and blemishes, which disfigured the counte 
 nance of the Protector of England. "Make me so, and show 
 
 41 
 
736 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 me as I am to the great father," cried Naopope to his portrait 
 painter, seizing the ball and chain that were fastened to his 
 leg, and raising them on high. When the artist refused to do 
 this the Indian distorted his face with incessant grimaces, and 
 prevented his picture from being taken. Such was the uncon 
 querable spirit of this poor manacled captive in the dungeon of 
 Jefferson Barracks. 
 
 In the following spring Black Hawk was taken to Washing 
 ton City. When confronted by President Jackson, the old 
 Indian bluntly remarked, "I am a man and you are only 
 another." God and the savage are no respecters of persons. 
 When told that he would be liberated, Black Hawk said: 
 "Brother, I have come on my own part and in behalf of my 
 companions to bid you farewell. Our great father has at length 
 been pleased to permit us to return to our hunting grounds. 
 We have buried the tomahawk, and the sound of the rifle will 
 hereafter only bring death to the deer and the buffalo. Brother, 
 you have treated the red men very kindly. Your squaws have 
 made them presents, and you have given them plenty to eat 
 and drink. The memory of your friendship will remain till the 
 Great Spirit says it is time for Black Hawk to sing his death- 
 song. Brother, your houses are as numerous as the leaves upon 
 the trees, and your young warriors like the sands upon the shore 
 of the big lake that rolls before us. The red man has but few 
 houses and few warriors, but the red man has a heart that throbs 
 as warmly as the heart of his white brother. The Great Spirit 
 has given us our hunting grounds, and the skin of the deer which 
 we kill there is his favorite, for its color is white, and this is 
 the emblem of peace. This hunting-dress and these feathers of 
 the eagle are white. Accept them, my brother; I have given 
 one like this to the White Otter. Accept of it as a memorial of 
 Black Hawk. When he is far away this will serve to remind 
 you of him. May the Great Spirit bless you and your chil 
 dren. Farewell." 
 
 Black Hawk and his companions were taken to Baltimore, 
 
BLACK HA WK'S HUMILIA TION. 737 
 
 Philadelphia, New York, and all the eastern cities before their 
 return. Everywhere great multitudes thronged to see the great 
 "General Black Hawk." Extensive military displays were made 
 to impress the savages with the power of the United States. 
 The crowning feature of Black Hawk's humiliation was, how 
 ever, yet to come. He was to be formally liberated, but was 
 also to be degraded and removed from his office of chief of the 
 Sacs, among whom henceforth his life-long enemy and rival, 
 Keokuk, was to be alone acknowledged as chief. The spot 
 where the ceremony was to be performed was Fort Armstrong, 
 on the site of the old Sac village. "This was the favorite 
 island of the Indians in former years abundant in fruits and 
 flowers, and from time immemorial the fancied abode of a good 
 spirit, who watched over their village and protected their hunt 
 ing grounds. No spot could have been selected calculated to 
 awaken so many painful associations in the mind of Black Hawk 
 as Rock Island. For half a century it had been the witness of 
 his power and influence ; it was now to become the scene of his 
 disgrace and reluctant submission to a rival." 
 
 On arriving at Fort Armstrong, runners were sent out sum 
 moning the Indians from far and wide to attend the strange 
 ceremony. They came by scores and hundreds, both from the 
 Sacs and all the neighboring tribes, who remembered the fame 
 of Black Hawk, and were now curious to witness his infamy. 
 Chief of all the arrivals was that of the princely Keokuk. He 
 ascended the Mississippi reclining in two canoes, lashed side by 
 side, and covered with a canopy. Handsome decorations cov 
 ered the vessels. Near the chief sat his three wives. Follow 
 ing him came a long line of canoes, filled with his people. Each 
 brave was painted in the most elaborate style, and equipped 
 with all the panoply of war. At high noon the great Keokuk, 
 with stately step and lofty bearing, disembarked amid the rattle 
 of scores of Indian drums, and the shouts and songs of his peo 
 ple. It was indeed a triumph. 
 
 The afternoon and evening were devoted to games and 
 
738 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 dances. From all the gay assembly Black Hawk alone remained 
 apart in solitude. He might have been seen, crouched in the 
 corner of his room in the fort, his face buried in his hands, 
 and his soul given over to grief and gloom. 
 
 On the following day the grand council was assembled. 
 Keokuk and a hundred gaudily attired warriors were given the 
 
 posts of honor. 
 Presently Black 
 Hawk and his 
 son, unattended, 
 entered' the room 
 with an air of 
 profound dejec 
 tion, and timidly 
 took an obscure 
 seat. They had 
 protested strong 
 ly against this 
 unnecessary cere 
 mony of disgrace, 
 and came filled 
 with the deepest 
 mortification. 
 For a time pro 
 found silence 
 reigned. Then 
 Major Garland 
 arose and made 
 a lengthy speech. He concluded by saying, that he wished it 
 distinctly understood by all persons, that hereafter their great 
 father, the President, would receive and acknowledge Keokuk 
 alone as the chief of the Sac and Fox nation ; that Black Hawk 
 must listen and conform to his counsels, and that the band of 
 Black Hawk must be henceforth merged in that of Keokuk. 
 There was a moment of silence, in which the features of the 
 
BLACK HA WK'8 HUMILIA TION. 739 
 
 old chief were seen to twitch with uncontrollable emotion. 
 Then, springing to his feet, he exclaimed, in a voice trembling 
 with futile rage : " I am a man an old man. I will not conform 
 to the counsels of any one. I will act for myself no one shall 
 govern me. I am old my hair is gray I once gave counsels 
 to my young men. Am I now to conform to others ? I shall 
 soon go to the Great Spirit, when I shall be at rest. What I 
 said to our great father at Washington, I say again I will al 
 ways listen to him. I am done." This speech was the cry of 
 defeat, the lament of the fallen chieftain. 
 
 Major Garland attempted to make explanations, to the effect 
 that he had only requested him to listen to the counsels of 
 Keokuk. To this he made no reply, but, drawing his blanket 
 around him, sat in moody silence. At last Keokuk rose, came 
 to him, and talked for awhile in a low tone. The words of the 
 wily Keokuk were not without their effect. Before the council 
 ended Black Hawk rose and said that it was his wish, if his 
 speech had been put upon paper, that a line might be drawn 
 through it. He did not mean what he said. This was the 
 last drop of gall in the cup of bitterness. 
 
 During the remainder of his life Black Hawk, with a few 
 old braves, who, having followed him in prosperity, did not de 
 sert him in adversity, lived at a point on a small stream called 
 Devil Creek, isolated from his tribe. It was the attempt of the 
 fallen chief to hide his disgrace. He never ceased to recall his 
 happy life on Rock River. "I liked my towns, my cornfields, 
 and the home of my people," he would say to the white men 
 who visited him. " I fought for it. I did wrong, perhaps ; but 
 that is past let it be forgotten. The country which was mine 
 is now yours. Keep it as we did it will produce you good 
 crops." He attributed all his misfortunes to Keokuk, and never 
 <ceased to regret that he had been led into armed resistance to 
 the United States. He died in 1838, being about seventy-two 
 years old. His old age was given over to sorrowful melancholy. 
 Death was indeed to him a welcome guest. 
 
740 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 
 
 HE genius for pioneering is born in a man, just 
 as the genius for debate or for war. It runs in 
 families, and is handed down from father to son. 
 It is that strange spirit of unrest which dissatis 
 fies some men with their civilized surroundings, 
 and impels them toward the wilderness. There 
 they are happy, fighting the savage, shooting 
 the buffalo, and struggling with nature in her 
 fiercest aspect. When the tide of emigration sets in their direc 
 tion, and society assumes a somewhat settled state, these bold 
 men give a pull at their throat bands as if suffocated, and reso 
 lutely set their faces toward the west, to seek out a location 
 where the spice of adventure and danger gives a wild variety 
 to life. 
 
 Such was the Carson family, of Kentucky, to whom was 
 born, on December 24, 1809, their son Christopher, or, as he is 
 widely known, " Kit." At this time Kentucky society began to 
 assume a state, wild and rough, we would think, but to the Car- 
 sons dull and monotonous. Affrays with Indians happened only 
 once in a year or two. In 1810, none of Mr. Carson's neigh 
 bors had been scalped since Kit was born. When he went out 
 for a hunt, he could no longer hope to be treed all night by a 
 bear. All this was a bore ; and it bore on his mind so that, 
 when Kit was a year old, the family sold out their scraggy farm, 
 said good-bye to their nearest neighbors, five miles off, and with 
 hearts lighter than for several years, set out for what is now 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 741 
 
 central Missouri. Here they found no end of exciting adven 
 ture. They and a few neighbors lived together in a rough log 
 fort, in order to be safe from the Indians. In laying out and 
 working their farms outside the log inclosure, it was necessary 
 for a part of them to act as guards, posted at the extremities of 
 the fields, to give instant warning of the approach of redskins, 
 and signal a retreat to the fort. 
 
 Amid such scenes were passed the boyhood days of Kit 
 Carson. When he reached the age of sixteen, his father, good 
 man, being determined that his son Kit should not lead such a 
 roving life as he himself had led, apprenticed Christopher to a 
 harness-maker. But the master could make no harness strong 
 enough to hitch the soaring spirit of Kit Carson to a trade. 
 The restless love of freedom and appetite for adventure which 
 belonged to the father, were intensified in the son, and in 1826 
 he broke away from the restraint, by joining a party whose 
 journey took them eight hundred miles across the plains, to 
 Santa Fe, New Mexico. 
 
 Though young, and destitute of the necessary equipment, 
 not even owning a gun, nor being able, by the utmost exertions 
 as teamster and guide, to do more than earn the food he ate, 
 his purpose was made up to be a hunter and trapper. In April, 
 1829, he was selected as a member of a party of forty men, 
 under the leadership of Ewing Young, organized at Taos, New 
 Mexico, for the double purpose of chastising a tribe of Indians, 
 who had been on the war-path and driven a party of Young's 
 trappers out of the country, and also for pursuing the lucrative 
 occupation of trapping beaver. The real purpose of the expe 
 dition was carefully concealed from the Mexican authorities, and 
 after a brisk and secret advance, they came suddenly upon the 
 band of Navajoe braves, which had massacred their friends. 
 Preparations for the fight were quickly made on both sides. 
 Part of the whites advanced stealthily, to lie in ambush behind 
 some rock which lay a little to the side and nearly midway 
 between the main combatants. Not seeing this movement, the 
 
742 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Indians charged on the remainder of the party, and, as they 
 came in front of the ambush, were suddenly assailed by a mur 
 derous cross-fire. Fifteen braves fell heavily from their horses, 
 killed by the first fire ; the remainder, pursued by the trappers, 
 fled in all directions. 
 
 After this fight it was decided that the party should divide, 
 only eighteen of them continuing to the valley of the Sacra 
 mento in California. Of this detachment Carson was a member. 
 Learning from some friendly Indians that the country through 
 which their path lay, and which had never before been explored 
 by white men, was destitute, alike, of game and water, the meat 
 of three deer was prepared to take with them, and the skins 
 of the animals were converted into water tanks. A week was 
 passed with this meager supply of water for eighteen men and 
 a large number of horses. For food an old mare was killed on 
 the fifth day and devoured with great gusto. About the sev 
 enth day they reached the dry bed of one of those singular 
 rivers, which suddenly sink out of sight and reappear at the 
 distance of hundreds of miles after an underground course, 
 probably, through quicksand. The channel is usually defined 
 on the surface, and, though dry, delicious water is easily had 
 by scooping a hole of a few feet in the sand. After this their 
 path lay through a beautiful country, abounding in water and 
 forage, elk, deer, and antelope of the finest varieties. The men 
 were elated with what seemed a good omen of the success which 
 awaited them in their trapping. 
 
 When at last the Sacramento River was reached the men 
 began to keep a sharp lookout for " signs " of beaver. The 
 presence of them in great abundance caused a thrill of joy to 
 the trappers. The significance of this word " signs " is very 
 great as the trappers use it. The cunning beaver can seldom 
 be seen on the bank or in the river, for he has no great means 
 of defense when attacked, and relies on his exquisite sight and 
 hearing to warn him of danger in time for retreat. The marks 
 he leaves behind him, however, are to the expert eye as legible 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 743 
 
 as the words on this page. The beaver's unequaled industry in 
 felling large trees, cutting twigs, peeling off the tender cuticle 
 of the willow bushes, digging away the banks, and carrying the 
 earth on his shovel-shaped tail to his dam, and the innumerable 
 footprints which he leaves, are a part of these " signs." The 
 little twig, half denuded of its bark, floating down stream, 
 unnoticed by any but the keen-eyed trapper, reveals to him by 
 its freshness the proximity of the prize more than the great 
 dam, which to a greenhorn would seem a splendid indication of 
 its builder's presence, because the dam is probably an old and 
 abandoned one. 
 
 The beaver's dam, a wonderful structure, is built by him to 
 provide him with food in the winter when every thing above 
 the water is dry and sapless. " He chooses a place favorable 
 for obtaining food, and also where his labors will be assisted by 
 natural formations or accidents in the river's course. Having 
 carefully selected his location, he and his fellows set to work to 
 fell giant trees. While one party is cutting the hard wood on 
 one side of the tree with their sharp teeth, another works on 
 the opposite side, the incision on the side on which they want 
 the tree to fall being made, with the skill of the true forester, 
 much lower than the other, which is made to slant downward 
 to the first. By this sort of craft the largest trees are made 
 to fall into and across the stream. When it has fallen the 
 leaves and small branches are at once woven into a close net 
 work, adapted to catching floating debris, and to receiving the 
 earth which they throw on by the tail load. Several trees are 
 felled in this way, till as many are down as is desired. Then 
 comes the mud- work, in which Mr. Beaver is an artist. A large 
 gang march to the bank, load each others' tails, and swim, with 
 their cargoes elevated above the water, to the dumping-spot, 
 where they at once mould it to its place." 
 
 Their houses they have previously built on the banks. They 
 consist of large and airy subterranean rooms, above the water 
 mark. In these houses, trappers say, they live in pairs, and 
 
744 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 much resemble human beings in the arrangement and manage 
 ment of their household affairs, Madame Beaver having the 
 ruling voice in domestic and internal arrangements, while the 
 outside work of building dams and providing food is the more 
 especial business of Monsieur. To this end he builds his 
 dam, the deep water preserving fresh and tender the leaves 
 and shrubs on which his family must subsist during the winter. 
 Some say he goes so far as to bundle up small branches of trees 
 and willows, which he stows away in the muddy bottom of the 
 river. Trapper yarns have it that beaver society is regularly 
 organized, there being chiefs, some of whom roll in wealth and 
 have troops of slaves ready to do instant service, such as bring 
 a fresh bundle of green twigs for dinner from the river bottom. 
 
 The signs having been discovered, the trappers selected a 
 comfortable location for their camp, and part of them started 
 out to set traps, while the remainder kept guard and did the 
 cooking. The trap is much like the ordinary steel trap used for 
 catching foxes or wolves, only somewhat smaller. It is baited 
 with a peculiar animal substance of strong scent, which draws 
 the beaver from his hiding-place, and so excites his appetite as 
 to induce him before long to reach in his paw, when in an 
 instant he is a prisoner. The traps, when visited, are emptied 
 and reset. The game is killed and skinned, the pelts dried 
 and cured in camp, and packed in bales for loading on the 
 mules. The Sacramento region proved to be a splendid field 
 for operations, and great was the success. 
 
 While in camp here the party were applied to by the priest 
 of the mission of San Rafael for help in capturing some Indians 
 belonging to his mission, who had stolen some of his property 
 and deserted to a hostile Indian village, which refused to give 
 them up. Carson and a dozen companions, ready for any fun, 
 offered their services, and attacked the Indian village, killing 
 one-third of its population, capturing the deserters, and with 
 them the stolen property. For this they refused all compensa 
 tion, but the priest secured them a good purchaser for their furs. 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 745 
 
 One night, when unsuspicious of danger, the camp lost sixty 
 of their horses, which were driven off by a party of redskins. 
 Carson was ordered to pick a dozen companions, and with the 
 remaining thirteen horses give chase. After a break-neck ride 
 of a hundred miles toward the mountains, they suddenly came 
 upon the savages, who were sitting around their camp-fires 
 feasting on six of the horses, which they had killed for that 
 purpose. Enraged beyond measure at the sight, the trappers 
 charged the camp with a yell, killing eight savages in the 
 twinkling of an eye, while the rest escaped. When Carson 
 returned with all the horses except the six which had been 
 killed, he was voted a hero. Yet he was only twenty years 
 old, and this was his first expedition. Here it was, too, that 
 he laid the foundation of his fame as a hunter, in which regard 
 he afterward acquired a reputation unequaled by any man in 
 the Rocky Mountains. His companions say he was exceedingly 
 modest, and of a refined and gentle nature, which contrasted 
 strangely with his wild profession. He was only five feet and 
 a half high, agile but rather slight in build, possessing a gray 
 eye and light brown hair. He talked little, and was remarkably 
 cautious in exposing himself, always sleeping where the glare 
 of the camp-fire did not fall on him, and carefully loading gun 
 and pistols before retiring. 
 
 In September the party, well laden with valuable furs, turned 
 their faces homeward. On their way, passing through a Mexi 
 can town, the men, in true trapper style, feeling the object of 
 the trip largely accomplished, succumbed to the seductive influ 
 ences of the whisky on sale there, as well as to the winsome 
 familiarities of the Mexican maiden. Carson, however, carefully 
 avoided such indulgences, and exerted himself to get the party 
 out of town. 
 
 On the day after leaving the place, while the trappers' heads 
 were still heavy and aching from the debauch, Carson discov 
 ered a band of five hundred Indians approaching. The men were 
 at the moment in camp. The Indians halted, made friendly 
 
746 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 signs, and in a few moments two of their number came into the 
 trappers' camp, eying things with great curiosity. Shortly a 
 few more braves sauntered in, and then still more, until enough 
 were present to overwhelm the little band of whites if a struggle 
 ensued. At this moment Mr. Young discovered that the Indians, 
 instead of being unarmed, had their weapons concealed in their 
 garments. It was evidently their intention to massacre the 
 entire party, and make off with the booty. Young whispered 
 his discovery with blanched lips to Carson. 
 
 The moment was critical. But in these trying moments Car 
 son's genius never failed to equal the emergency. Quickly call 
 ing his men to his side, he ordered each man to cover a savage 
 with his gun. Taken completely by surprise, the intruders 
 began to retreat from the row of deadly rifles. " Leave the 
 camp!" said Carson, in a clear-cut tone. "If you refuse, each 
 one of us will kill our man, even if we at last are killed our 
 selves." The effect was electric. Death, with blood-shot eye 
 balls, stared them out of countenance, and with a bound the 
 red murderers cleared the camp. 
 
 A week or two after this, the trappers ran across a band of 
 Indians which had annoyed them on their outbound trip. The 
 " lex talionis " of Moses and the Israelites is the only possible 
 law for the wanderers in any wilderness. Stealing quickly upon 
 the group of huts, the whites were upon their foes almost as 
 soon as discovered. A noble warrior sank to rise no more at 
 each crack of the trappers' rifles, and in a few moments the rout 
 became complete. A very nice herd of horses and mules, the 
 only thing of value in the village, was captured by this stroke. 
 
 That night the trappers settled down around their camp-fire 
 for a comfortable sleep, after the day's exertion. Some men 
 tion was made about the probability of a return of the redskins, 
 and two of the most vigilant were appointed to keep watch, 
 one before midnight, the other after. Shortly after the change 
 of sentry at midnight, the man on watch became aware of a 
 dark body moving in the darkness over the prairie in the direc- 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 749 
 
 tion of the camp. It was but the work of a moment to arouse 
 the men, who, with rifles grasped and pistols cocked, were in- 
 stantly on the alert. Carson slipped out to reconnoitre, and 
 returning reported a large herd of horses driven by a few Indians,, 
 who had probably stolen them. Without any over-nice honesty, 
 a volley of rifle-balls was directed toward the astonished Indians, 
 who fled in great precipitation, leaving their property, the second 
 capture of the day, to the trappers. On the following morning 
 the best of the herd were selected for use; two of the fattest 
 animals were killed for food, and the remainder turned loose on 
 the prairie, to rejoice once more in the wild liberty of their sires. 
 
 In April, 1830, just a year after its departure, the expedi 
 tion found itself once more among the group of huts which was 
 dignified by the name of Taos. The proceeds of the trip were 
 twenty-four thousand dollars, which soon found its way into the 
 pockets of the men, and then found its way out again, for the 
 trapper after his trip is like the sailor home from his voyage. 
 It was the chief care of each man to get on a profound, inglo 
 rious, and terrible drunk, which only ended with his money. 
 On this occasion Carson yielded somewhat to the demoralizing 
 atmosphere, but it was his first and last spree. Nature seemed 
 to have made him a gentleman in spite of his rough surround 
 ings. Refinement is a quality of the mind. Wealth and luxury 
 only sharpen the outline of vulgarity. The frontier cabin of 
 the trapper, where a woman was seldom seen, and the softening 
 influence of children was unknown; over which the great and 
 jagged Rockies flung the chilly shadows of an early sunset,, 
 and where the brutal savages, instead of turning toward the 
 light of civilization, rather drew the pioneer down into their own 
 gloom and brutality this frontier cabin only served to throw 
 into bolder relief the character of the GENTLEMAN. 
 
 It was in the autumn of 1830 that Kit Carson enlisted 
 for his second trapping expedition. He was greatly sought 
 after for this purpose by the organizers of trapping parties. 
 The party joined by Carson passed the winter in quarters on 
 
750 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Salmon River, and began their real work with the season of 
 1831, along Snake River, on which are the famous Shoshonee 
 Falls, more than one third higher than Niagara. Meeting 
 another party of trappers, Carson learned that Captain Gaunt, 
 an old mountaineer, with a small company, were ten days' jour 
 ney to the south. He and four companions resolved, for a 
 change, to join Gaunt, and after a rapid journey were cordially 
 welcomed by him. 
 
 The time for going into winter quarters was at hand. This 
 was always looked forward to with interest, as it marked a great 
 change in the trapper's mode of life. No longer did he gallop 
 with free rein over the flower-embroidered prairie ; no longer 
 select his spot for the evening camp-fire, and, while the game, 
 brought down by his own expert hand, was steaming over the 
 coals, and flinging its savory odor upon the breeze, busy him 
 self with baiting and setting his traps at the water's edge ; and 
 after a dash in the cooling current, feast upon the tempting 
 meal; then with his saddle for a pillow, his blanket for a bed, 
 and the star-fretted sky for a canopy, sink to sleep, as the dying 
 embers threw their fitful flashes more and more dimly into the 
 surrounding forest. 
 
 All this was changed. His home, when in winter quarters, 
 was a conical tent of dressed buffalo skins, supported on a frame 
 work of light poles, spread out in a circle at the bottom, and 
 crossed near the top, where they were held by being thrust through 
 the opening in the buffalo skins. These were sewed tightly into 
 the shape of a cone, except one straight seam, which was fast 
 ened by a lacing to within four or five feet of the ground. The 
 opening thus left was the door, over which a buffalo skin was 
 tightly stretched. The bottom of the tent was securely fastened 
 to the ground by wooden pins. In the center of this tent, which 
 is about eighteen feet in diameter, and fifteen feet high, he had 
 his fire, the smoke from which, in theory, was to escape by the 
 opening above, but, in fact, filled the apartment. 
 
 In here the men passed their days and nights, except when 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 751 
 
 they went out to attend to their horses. Early in the winter 
 the snow fell to the depth of six feet, and removed not till the 
 spring. Water for the shaggy Indian ponies had to be obtained 
 from the river through a hole chopped in the ice. These hardy 
 beasts had no shelter except such as was afforded by an over 
 hanging rock, and some forest trees. To obtain food for them 
 was a serious task. It had to be done by cutting down cotton- 
 wood trees, and gathering the bark and branches for fodder. 
 But the ponies stood it as well as the men, who thought them 
 selves comfortable and happy in their warm buffalo tent. Here 
 they slept and smoked, told stories and cooked meals, dressed 
 their skins, or ornamented their saddles. 
 
 Not a small part of their time did they spend over that 
 magic annihilator of time and surroundings a pack of cards! 
 The man who held the ace of trumps never failed to be regarded 
 as a marvelously lucky fellow, and the fellow with two bowers 
 and a queen, as little short of a hero ! We may smile at these 
 little details of the trapper's life, but it is more fitting that a tear 
 should fall, for these are the men, some of whom are known to 
 Avorld-wide fame, as the hero of this chapter, but many of whom 
 are unknown to history, and will be nameless for evermore these 
 are the men, " who," as reads our title-page, " by their valor and 
 war-craft, beat back the savages from the borders of civilization, 
 and gave the American forests to the plow and the sickle." All 
 honor, then, to the brave pioneer, the fruit of whose toils and 
 triumphs he beheld from afar off, while we alone have lived to 
 enter into the land of promise ! 
 
 One cold January night, some Crow Indians succeeded in 
 stealing nine horses from the camp. A dozen men, with Carson, 
 of course, at their head, started in pursuit. At the end of forty 
 miles their horses, weak from insufficient food, made a halt 
 necessary, and they turned into a clump of woods. Here they 
 unexpectedly found their enemies. Making fast their horses, 
 and examining their guns, Carson directed the men to make a 
 detour, so as to approach the savages from the direction in 
 
752 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 which they least expected danger that in which they traveled. 
 To get close enough to reconnoiter, it was necessary to perform 
 a large part of this journey crawling through the deep snow on 
 hands and knees. In this way they were- able to discover two 
 rude forts, in which a large force of Indians were performing 
 the war-dance. The nine horses were tied outside. 
 
 To insure success the trappers, in spite of the bitter cold, 
 lay concealed till the dance ended, and the last sleepy redskin 
 snored solemnly in the darkness. Carson then slipped forward, 
 cut the halters, and by means of snow-balls drove the horses 
 away without noise. Having secured them, a division of opinion 
 was found as to whether they should make an attack. Carson 
 and two others strongly urged it, as otherwise they would be 
 pursued, and probably have to fight anyhow under less favorable 
 circumstances. The advice of Carson was followed, and they 
 again neared the sleeping foe. A dog in the camp barked, and 
 the warriors, springing to their feet, became marks for the deadly 
 rifles of the pioneers. Those who survived the first fire hur 
 riedly ran to the other fort. A desperate sortie was repulsed 
 with the loss of several more. At daybreak the pioneers with 
 drew, mounted their horses, and by night rejoined their com 
 rades at quarters on the Arkansas River. 
 
 In the spring they cached their furs, and broke camp. Three 
 weeks later, while on the South Platte, Carson and one com 
 panion were sent by Captain Gaunt in pursuit of two men who 
 had deserted the party. Suspecting their design, Kit made for 
 the furs in cache at the old camp. Three hundred pounds, be 
 longing equally to the entire party, were missing, and the 
 deserters, probably killed by the Indians, were never heard of 
 afterward. Failing to recover the furs, Carson and his compan 
 ion felt that a return to Gaunt's party was unwise and imprac 
 ticable. They therefore repaired the old log fortification which 
 had surrounded their buffalo tent the winter before, and, without 
 venturing out of it much, managed to keep well supplied with 
 game. Here the two men lived for a month, one of them always 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 753 
 
 on guard, anxiously looking for relief, which came at last. 
 Gaunt had entirely given them up, fearing that they had at 
 tempted to return to him and had been killed by the Indians 
 of the region, who were on the war-path. 
 
 The journey to rejoin the main body of Gaunt's party proved 
 exceedingly dangerous, even for the band of twenty-one veteran 
 trappers. On several occasions a stampede occurred, by which 
 they lost a horse or two. The stampede is accomplished by the 
 Indians turning loose some wild horses, which are trained to 
 dash at full speed through the camp of the white men. All the 
 picketed horses, being greatly excited, attempt to follow, more or 
 less succeeding in breaking loose, and rushing with their wild 
 companions into an Indian lair, much as greenies fall a prey 
 to the seductive wiles of the confidence man. 
 
 One morning Carson took a trio of companions to cross a 
 range and look for beaver. Their outward path was by a precip 
 itous way directly across the mountain. But in the afternoon 
 as they turned home a longer walk was found more practicable 
 for the descent. As they were leisurely riding back to the 
 camp there suddenly appeared in their path, directly in front 
 of them, four powerful and splendidly mounted Indians, decked 
 out in fantastic plumes and gayly colored paint, indicating un 
 mistakably that they were on the war-path. The emergency 
 demanded an immediate decision as to the best course to pursue. 
 In all likelihood these warriors were only the advance guard of 
 a large war party ambushed behind the rocks. To advance was 
 dangerous, yet to retreat was to be pursued and almost cer 
 tainly overtaken and killed. The three other men turned to 
 Carson, who without a word dug his spurs deep into the sides 
 of his mustang, and, closely followed by the others, dashed at 
 full speed upon the astonished braves. In a moment sixty 
 splendid warriors were discovered in ambush near the trail. 
 Thick and fast flew their bullets. Kit and his three friends, 
 throwing themselves as much as possible to the other side of 
 their horses, dashed on without returning a shot. They were 
 
 42 
 
754 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 running the gauntlet. In three minutes they would either be 
 safe or for ever silent. 
 
 At one point the copper-faced devils were within sixty feet 
 of them. But in their surprise at the boldness of the trappers, 
 their aim was unsteady, and in a few moments Carson had 
 reached the camp, alive and unhurt. Two of his companions 
 had received severe Wounds, and on the following day, when 
 the march was resumed, it was necessary to take two poles, let 
 the ends rest on two trusty horses, and swing a buffalo robe in 
 the center as a litter for the wounded men. 
 
 When they reached Gaunt the hunt for beaver was found to 
 have been unsuccessful, and the ill luck continued. Tired of 
 going empty-handed, Kit Carson resolved to strike out and try 
 it alone. Two companions volunteered to join him, in spite of 
 the greatly increased danger of trapping with such a small 
 party. After several months of great success, attained by the 
 superior skill of Garson, they returned to Taos, and disposed 
 of their furs at advantageous prices. 
 
 The humdrum life in the mud huts of Taos was dull enough 
 to poor Kit, with his fierce love of adventure, and thrusting 
 away all notion of settling down after his two years of absence, 
 he soon arranged to join a trading party. They had been out 
 some weeks when they met another party of traders, commanded 
 by Mr. Robidaux. Right gladly did they grasp each other's 
 hands and interchange stories of their luck. The snow began 
 to fall soon after the meeting, and the men took the hint to go 
 into winter quarters. For the purposes of companionship and 
 security the two parties arranged to encamp together. 
 
 Again Carson began that wonderful life in the buffalo lodge 
 of which we have spoken. Again, as the storm raged without, 
 the men lay around the fire in their warm but wind-shaken tent, 
 and with many a yarn and jest drowned out the dreary roar of 
 the tempest. On these occasions Carson was much less of a 
 talker than the other fellows. He joined heartily in the laugh, 
 but except when the talk took a practical turn, as to what 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 755 
 
 would have been the safest way to deal with the redskins on 
 some occasion, or how a trapper who was lost, and without a 
 gun, might manage, he rarely spoke. It was rather his forte 
 to furnish the theme of conversation by some daring exploit 
 of his own. 
 
 Among Mr. Robidaux's company was a keen and shrewd 
 California Indian, who was valued for his skill rather than 
 esteemed for his trustworthiness. One morning six of the 
 finest horses, worth two hundred dollars apiece, were missing, 
 and this fellow as well. Illy able to thus lose the entire profits 
 of his expedition, Robidaux asked Carson to attempt a reprisal. 
 Kit, though prudent when only his own interests were at stake, 
 shrank from no danger to help a friend. To help him on his 
 perilous mission Carson determined to select a first class brave 
 from a village of friendly Utahs near by. His choice was soon 
 made, and the Utah seemed proud of the honor. Both were 
 splendidly mounted, and quickly striking the trail of the flying 
 thief, they dashed on their errand of vengeance. No man 
 could follow a trail or read its characteristics more rapidly than 
 Kit Carson, although still the youngest man of his party, being 
 yet only twenty-three years old " the boy," as the old trappers 
 affectionately called him. 
 
 Hardly for a moment was the rein drawn for the first hun 
 dred miles, and Kit felt confident of overtaking the treacherous 
 rascal within two or three days. After a few hours' halt the 
 first night, they were preparing to start again, when Carson's 
 Indian companion affirmed that his horse had broken down and 
 he could go no farther. That the noble animal was sick was 
 evident, but Kit strongly suspected that it had been purposely 
 made so. Should he turn back? The savage he pursued was 
 an experienced and dangerous fighter, armed to the teeth, and no 
 doubt desperate. Thinking only of his friejid, the heroic fellow 
 left his companion, and flew along the trail alone. Alone in 
 the wilderness ! Around him stretched the illimitable plains, 
 bounded, to the eye, only by the gloomy Rockies, which from 
 
756 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 afar could be seen lying in eternal and majestic repose. Not a 
 sound broke the stillness of the morning but the rapid thud, 
 thud of his horse's hoofs as they rose and fell in the snowy 
 trail, with the regularity of a machine. Sometimes a thought 
 
 CARSON KILLING THE HORSE-THIEF. 
 
 of the brave mother whom he had left years before in the little 
 Missouri clearing would force itself upward as his gallant steed 
 bore him on to what might be death. 
 
 He had left his companion about thirty miles to the rear 
 when he discovered the chase. The pace of pursuer and pur- 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 757 
 
 sued became terrific. A spectator seeing those two figures, and 
 wondering at the singular sight, would have seen the one behind 
 gradually gaining on the other. Seeing this, the Indian began 
 to make for some rocks behind which he could fire at his pur 
 suer as he approached, and reload without exposure. The plan 
 was good. It had almost succeeded. But behind him was the 
 Hero of the Rockies. Without pausing an instant in his tre 
 mendous career, Carson -unslung his rifle, and with the aim that 
 never missed, shot his enemy through the heart, just as he 
 turned behind the cover. At the same instant the other's gun 
 went off, but in a wild direction. When Carson returned to the 
 winter camp with the stolen horses he was greeted with a cheer. 
 Not alone in that camp was the exploit talked over on many an 
 evening ; but borne in some mysterious manner through the 
 wilderness, the story of the deed was the favorite theme around 
 a hundred camp fires. 
 
 Carson seemed to bear a charmed life. As on a previous 
 occasion, he had left the main party and with three picked com 
 panions had undertaken a separate expedition. One night the 
 little party had made their evening halt. They had been with 
 out meat for some days. Kit picked up his rifle and started 
 out to look around. About a mile from the camp he was elated 
 with the sight of some magnificent elk. Gaining the cover of 
 some low, scraggy pine trees, he succeeded, by great care, in 
 getting within gunshot of the prize. Without dwelling on his 
 aim, he sped a bullet after the largest and fattest buck in the 
 herd, and with one bound the noble creature fell dead with a 
 fearful wound through his heart and lungs. 
 
 Scarcely had the echoing ring of the shot died away, when 
 Carson heard a terrific roar coming directly from the woods 
 behind him. Turning instantly to discover its source, Carson 
 saw two immense grizzly bears bounding towards him, their 
 eyes blazing with anger, their white teeth glistening with rage 
 and hunger, their forearms hung with huge bony claws with 
 which to tear and mangle his flesh. Flinging down his empty 
 
758 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 rifle, for which he would have given worlds, if the little leaden 
 bullet in the heart of the elk had never left its barrel, he fairly 
 flew over the ground in his race for the nearest tree. It was a 
 goal for which life was the stake. He had just grasped a limb 
 
 CARSON ATTACKED BY GRIZZLIES. 
 
 and swung upward as the infuriated beasts brushed its trunk. 
 It would be but a moment, however, till they would commence 
 to climb the tree, an art in which they would succeed quite as 
 well as Kit. Providentially a bear has a tender nose. With 
 his glittering hunting knife Carson hacked off a serviceable little 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 759 
 
 club. When Messrs. Bruin began to ascend the trunk, in order 
 to secure the evening meal; into which ' their imaginations had 
 already transformed poor Kit, they received the compliment of 
 smart raps on their lovely noses. With a mingled roar of rage 
 and pain they quickly descended, only, as the agony wore off, 
 to renew their ambitious toil. 
 
 This drama of the gentlemen Bruin ascending, getting their 
 snouts tickled, and letting go in their dreadful anguish, held 
 the boards for several hours. They felt greatly injured. First, 
 Carson had beaten them in the race, and they were conscience- 
 smitten over a life of previous indulgence in the pleasures of 
 the table, which had impaired their condition as racers. Then 
 he had beaten them at their own pet game of climbing trees, 
 and finally his undue familiarity with their noses was offen 
 sive. Again and again they tried to tear him out of the tree ; 
 again and again he drew the claret with his club. At last, in 
 their disappointment and grief they sat down and had a regular 
 cry, after which they gloomily slunk off into the forest, at a 
 little time after which our hero felt safe in descending from his 
 roost. It was well into the night when he reached his alarmed 
 companions. The story had to take the place of a supper. 
 Long before morning the body of the noble elk had become the 
 prey of the ignoble wolves. 
 
 In July Carson, for the first time, attended the summer ren 
 dezvous on Green River, at which all the traders and trappers 
 out in the mountains met for purposes of trade and barter. It 
 was a characteristic scene in the pioneer's life. Not a trader's 
 pack was opened until all the parties known to be in the mount 
 ains had arrived. The lodges were struck in convenient spots, 
 and around the roaring camp-fires the lonely trapper passed the 
 happiest part of the year. The rendezvous was a sort of a fair. 
 There were annually gathered together two or three hundred 
 white men, and not a few Indians. It was the time for the 
 exchange of yarns and experiences, for gambling and horse 
 racing, for quarrels and fights, as well as for barter. 
 
760 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Among the crowd was a swaggering, bullying Frenchman, 
 named Shunan, who had whipped two men under his size in one 
 day, and boasted that he " could lick all the Americans in the 
 mountains." He had rather cowed the men, and as no one else 
 seemed disposed to stop his insults, Carson quietly determined 
 
 ENCOUNTER BETWEEN CARSON AND SHUNAN. 
 
 to make it his own affair. Stepping up to the bully, who was 
 twice his size, he said, in the presence of a crowd : " Shunan, 
 there are a dozen men here who can whip you. Keep your 
 mouth shut, or I will be under the necessity of killing you." 
 According to the trapper code, both men went hurriedly to their 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 7O1 
 
 lodges, and, mounting their horses, prepared to fight. The 
 crowd embraced every one on the ground. Shunan had his 
 rifle ; Carson, in the hurry, had picked up only a single-barreled 
 horse pistol. The two men rode rapidly toward each other, 
 until their horses' heads almost touched. Suddenly reining up, 
 Carson said, " Are you looking for me ? " " No," was the lying 
 answer of the man,, as he lifted his rifle to shoot. But, before 
 he could fire, Carson had lodged a ball in Shunan' s right fore 
 arm, disabling his antagonist and saving himself. 
 
 Such is the code of the frontier. Where men have no law 
 they become legislators themselves ; where they have no judge, 
 or jury, or executioner, they quickly fill all these functions 
 themselves. Such is the demand of the mind for law and judg 
 ment, and such are its resources when thrown upon itself. 
 These things are right. They are the beginnings of the mighty 
 struggle for law, a struggle which, in proportion to its success, 
 means the crushing out of barbarism, cruelty, violence, and 
 injustice, and the uplifting of civilization and order, humanity 
 and righteousness. 
 
 Two months after the breaking up of the rendezvous, Car 
 son's party suffered the usual theft of their horses by Indians, 
 and as inevitably Kit and a dozen men started out in pursuit. 
 On overtaking them the redskins made signs of friendship, and 
 protested their innocent intentions. Each party laid down their 
 arms, and marched to a point midway between, for a conference. 
 The trappers stated promptly that " peace talk " must be pre 
 ceded by the surrender of their horses. With much evasion, 
 the Indians' chief offered to return five of the poorest horses, 
 as all he could do. On hearing this, the trappers broke and 
 ran for their guns. Kit and a man named Markhead, being in 
 the lead, on the return, selected the two advance Indians for 
 adversaries. Carson was about to fire at his man, when he 
 suddenly saw Markhead examining the lock of his gun, while 
 his foe had a rifle leveled at him. True to his nature, Kit fired 
 at Markhead's adversary, killing him, thus saving Markhead, 
 
762 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 but at imminent risk to himself. His own adversary took ad 
 vantage of his opportunity to fire, but inflicted only a dangerous 
 wound on Carson's shoulder. As their leader fell, several of 
 the trappers sprang forward to bear him bleeding from the field. 
 
 As darkness came on, the fighting ceased, and the men 
 gathered in their camp. The cold was intense, but no fire could 
 be lighted, as. it would reveal their whereabouts to the savages. 
 Disheartened by the misfortune of Carson, whose life-blood 
 ebbed in crimson tide upon the spotless snow, they determined 
 to retreat, and for the first time in his life Carson returned to 
 his command without the horses of which he had gone in search. 
 
 The fall hunt, this year, was unsuccessful, and Carson's 
 party divided on Big Snake River, Kit's company of five men 
 starting to Fort Hall. The country through which they traveled 
 was barren, and their provisions were soon exhausted. For 
 days they subsisted on a root which they found in small quan 
 tities. At last this disappeared. Then they bled their mules 
 and drank the blood. This weakened the animals till it could 
 be carried no further. The horrors of starvation confronted 
 them. When they went supperless to sleep, the famished men 
 in their dreams beheld the greatest abundance of game and 
 food, but could not quite partake of it. Now the sleeper would 
 behold a herd of elk ; just as he had almost come within gun 
 shot, the animals would mockingly bound away. Now, hungered 
 from a long hunt, he sat by the fire watching the steaming mess 
 in the camp kettle, when, just as it was ready for his watering 
 mouth, the kettle turned over, and its savory contents were lost. 
 Now he was putting to his mouth a rare bit of buffalo liver, 
 when the cry of " Indians " made him jump for his gun, and 
 snatched him away from the un tasted morsel. 
 
 In their extremity, a band of impoverished but friendly 
 Indians were met, who, without any hope of recompense, divided 
 their own too meager supplies with the famished whites, and 
 by this kind help from the poorest of the poor, Carson was en 
 abled to conduct his party to the hospitable fort. Here the 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 763 
 
 exhausted men recuperated rapidly, and in two weeks were 
 eager to ascertain the truth of the stories of wonderful buffalo 
 herds two hundred miles to the northeast, which were heard by 
 them in their enforced inactivity. 
 
 Every thing being in readiness, Carson and his men started 
 out from their haven of safety, and two days brought them in 
 sight of what the novice would at first view have thought a 
 distant forest, but from which, at a great distance, could be 
 heard a dull and thunderous roar. A nearer approach revealed 
 a bellowing multitude of buffalo, so great that no man could 
 number them. In every part of the vast herd were going on 
 deadly combats between rival beasts. Over the combatants rose 
 a dense cloud of dust, through which could be caught glimpses 
 of the bloody conflict. Without delaying to watch the wonder 
 ful sight, the trappers rapidly skirte'd the herds, and directed 
 their course toward a narrow valley or ravine, in which were to 
 be had timber for the poles on which to dry the meat, and water 
 for the horses. Long before day they were up, and a part of 
 them had commenced driving one of the detached herds toward 
 this valley. The stupid but timid buffalo headed for the fatal 
 trap at a full gallop. 
 
 Meanwhile the other men had carefully posted themselves 
 at the other outlets of the valley. In a little while the " sur 
 round " was complete. Then with a yell each man dashed in 
 and closed on the game. Desperately did the powerful crea 
 tures dash from side to side in frantic effort to escape. Some, 
 in fact, broke through the corral r ,*but in spite of this the slaugh 
 ter was immense. Many of the buffalo, bewildered by the 
 attacks on every side, almost stood still in the agony of their 
 terror, and waited for their executioner. In less than ten min 
 utes fifty of them had fallen to rise no more. Poles were then 
 planted in the ground and strung with ropes of hide, on which 
 the strips of meat were hung for curing in the sun. When suf 
 ficiently dried it was packed in bales. When all their horses 
 were loaded, the slow march back to the fort was begun. 
 
764 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Unknown to the trappers, their train had a constant escort 
 from their sworn enemies, the Blackfeet Indians. No attack was 
 made, however. At the fort the horses were placed in a fenced 
 inclosure for protection, and a sentry placed on watch. One 
 night the fellow on guard, perhaps a little the worse for liquor, 
 saw two men approach the bars, let them down, and deliberately 
 commence driving every horse out into the prairie. It never 
 occurred to Mr. Guard that the Indians would come except in 
 force, and his intelligent mind never doubted that the two men 
 were his comrades, who had orders to take the horses outside 
 for better pasturage. Thanking his lucky stars for the relief, 
 he said nothing to his industrious friends, but curled down in a 
 fence corner and went to sleep. In the morning it was found 
 that the Blackfeet had, without firing a gun or losing a brave, 
 run off every horse and mule belonging to the fort, and left the 
 enraged trappers without an animal on which to make pursuit. 
 It came near terminating even more seriously for poor Sim- 
 monds, the sentry. Several of the trappers in their rage threat 
 ened to kill him, and, by way of emphasis, put a few rifle shots 
 through his fur hat as it rested on his own precious head. 
 
 This little trick of their Blackfeet friends was not forgotten, 
 when, in the following spring, a strong body of the trappers 
 found themselves in proximity to the chief village of the nation. 
 Kit Carson and a friend or two, after a careful reconnoiter, 
 reported that there were signs of a hurried removal to be seen. 
 Every heart in the company beat high with the excitement of 
 approaching revenge, the darkest passion of human nature. 
 Forty-three picked men, under the command of Carson, were 
 detailed for the fight ; the remaining fifty -five were to guard the 
 valuable stores of the party, and advance slowly as a reserve. 
 With a wild yell the trappers charged the village, killing a dozen 
 braves in an instant. But the Indians were the children of a 
 noble tribe, brave, strong, skillful, and well equipped. They 
 quickly rallied, and commenced a bloody struggle, which lasted 
 over three hours, an unusual time for Indian warfare. Every 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 765 
 
 man was concealed behind trees, rocks, or whatever could afford 
 protection. Sometimes the same rock would afford cover for an 
 Indian and a trapper. Neither could leave the place without 
 being killed. For an hour the two men would seek to kill each 
 other. At last, in a moment of negligence or unskillfulness, pne 
 of them would bite the dust. 
 
 The trappers retained the advantage gained at the outset 
 until the prolonged combat began to exhaust their ammunition. 
 The sagacious redskins at once divined the cause of the slack 
 ened fire, and charged on their foes. The hand to hand engage 
 ment is the one in which individual skill and heroism develops 
 its noblest examples. The trappers, by the use of their red 
 dened knives' and smoking pistols, again and again drove back 
 their assailants, but at last were driven to a stubborn retreat. 
 In executing this movement, the horse of a mountaineer named 
 Cotton, who was at the extreme right of the field of battle, 
 stumbled and fell, pinning his rider to the earth. Carson's keen 
 eye, which incessantly swept the entire field, perceived the acci 
 dent at the same time that a half dozen dusky warriors bounded 
 forward to scalp the unfortunate man. Springing from his 
 horse, with a rallying cry to his now scattered men, Carson ran 
 toward his friend, and, taking aim as he ran, .shot the foremost 
 savage down. The trappers now came running from all direc 
 tions at their commander's call, and the remaining five braves 
 started for cover. Only two of them ever reached it. Cotton, 
 with a little help, extricated himself from the painful situation 
 in which his accident left him. 
 
 Seing that Cotton was all right, Carson turned to look for 
 his horse, and found that he had run away. It was no time or 
 place to remain on foot. The savages might overtake him at 
 any moment. Ready for any emergency, Kit mounted behind 
 one of his comrades, and in this position waited till his runaway 
 horse could be recaptured. When the reserve came up with its 
 precious supplies of ammunition, the trappers prepared to make 
 a final and crushing attack on the Indians. This last struggle 
 
766 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 resulted in the disastrous defeat of the tribe, and so broke its 
 power and spirit that for years the trappers and hunters pur 
 sued their occupation without molestation from the humbled 
 Blackfeet. 
 
 At the summer rendezvous Kit arranged to join a couple of 
 traders who had planned an expedition into the Navajoe country. 
 This tribe had attained a sort of red man's civilization, a thing 
 which is perfectly possible. All civilizations are not alike. 
 The Chinese civilization is the oldest on the globe, yet among 
 the lower classes a rat is a great dainty at the dinner table ; 
 from twelve to twenty persons of all ages and either sex sleep 
 huddled together in a single small room ; a few cents constitute a 
 day's wages. India has her cities and commerce ;' her religions 
 older far than Christianity; her temples of marble, ivory, and 
 gold, the architecture of which is unequaled on the globe ; but 
 in India are found fanatics who have held their right arms up 
 ward for twenty years, until the joints have become solid bone, 
 covered with shriveled parchment, and the extended members 
 can not be lowered. There is, too, a civilization in Russia, a 
 civilization of fashion, aristocracy, and wealth, of colleges, of 
 railroads, of libraries, and palaces. In Russia it was that her 
 ruler employed the idle laborers in constructing, at untold cost, 
 a magnificent winter palace made entirely of ice, and destined 
 to melt away as the summer sun flung his radiance across its 
 crystal towers ; and it was the czar of all the Russias who by 
 the stroke of his pen peacefully emancipated twenty million 
 serfs. Yet in this same country, where the body is free, the 
 mind is in chains. Torture and the executioner's ax paralyze 
 not merely the tongue but the intellect as well. Worse than 
 these penalties are those by which wise and good men, valuable 
 members of society, are sent to the terrible mines of Siberia. 
 There in the darkness alike of day and night they spend the 
 remainder of their lives. College professors, scientists, and 
 editors, treated worse than the blackest felons, toil on in these 
 fearful abodes of torture, losing eyesight, hair, teeth, strength, 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 
 
 767 
 
 intelligence, until at last they drop their fetters and leap into 
 the skeleton arms of Death. Yet Russia is civilized. 
 
 So we say that though an Indian civilization might possess 
 many elements strange and grotesque in our eyes, still it was a 
 
 THE RESCUE OF COTTON. 
 
 [See page 765.] 
 
 possibility. The Navajoes had something approaching it. They 
 were wealthy, and fond of their possessions. Their customs 
 were somewhat settled. They knew the art of weaving beauti 
 ful blankets, and manufacturing many other articles which com 
 manded high prices. Carson and his fellow traders found a 
 
768 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND 'ROMANCES. 
 
 ready market among them for their merchandise, and returned 
 from their trip with large herds of splendid horses and mules, 
 loaded down with valuable blankets and furs. 
 
 For the next year or two Carson went ahead with his life- 
 of hunting and trapping. His character is in marked contrast 
 with those of his companions. Carson was a kind-hearted, 
 even-tempered, and intensely practical man. Though a sparing 
 talker, he was one of those geniuses who perform every thing 
 they undertake with skill, rapidity, and success. He had a re 
 markably smooth, well-balanced, and symmetrical nature, which 
 was rare for a trapper, who was generally a dare-devil, crack- 
 brained fellow, utterly reckless, erratic, and without stability of 
 purpose. So far from making trapping and hunting his life- 
 work, he had ordinarily followed a dozen different callings 
 now making Sunday-school speeches in the Eastern cities ; now 
 selling patent medicine in the malarial districts of the Middle 
 States ; now preaching to the Indians ; and now a New Mexican 
 desperado and cut-throat. 
 
 This was just about the career of Williams, an old fellow 
 who was with Carson at this time. He had translated the 
 Bible into two Indian dialects. His irregular genius showed 
 itself in an incident in a Mexican town. He was at the time a 
 trader or shopkeeper there. One day some of his customers 
 complained of his prices, and undertook to jew him down. 
 Williams flew into a terrible rage. He blasphemed and abused 
 them in the most horrible manner. Finally, springing on them 
 like a tiger, he kicked them all out of his little booth or lodge ; 
 and, as if disgusted with the whole community, commenced 
 throwing his goods and merchandise, helter-skelter, into the 
 street, nor did he stop till his booth was entirely dismantled. 
 Then with horrid curses, and his eyes ablaze with insane fury, 
 he seized his rifle, and shaking the dust of the place from his 
 feet, he angrily took himself off to the mountains. 
 
 Another one of these eccentric characters, one who stood 
 high in the trapper profession, was a fellow named Mitchell. 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 769 
 
 He had at one time acquired the notion of some wonderful gold 
 mines being hidden away in the mountains of northern Texas. 
 With the purpose of discovering 'them, he joined the Comanche 
 nation, became one of their braves, married a pretty Indian 
 squaw, and for some years was one of their leaders in battle, 
 and a terror to their foes. Becoming convinced that the gold 
 mines were myths, he made to his Comanche friends some plausi 
 ble excuse for a temporary absence, and left them forever. 
 
 Some years after that period of Carson's life of which we 
 are now speaking, Mitchell made a trading trip into Kansas. It 
 was the first time in many years that he had been in the States. 
 Kansas was just in the convulsion of political passion which 
 preceded the civil war. The free-soilers and pro-slavery men 
 were carrying on a guerrilla warfare, each trying to drive the 
 other out of the state. Farm-houses were burned ; men were fired 
 upon from thickets as they passed along the road ; corpses were 
 found in the forest with knives sticking in their hearts. All 
 this seemed natural enough to Mitchell, with his frontier notions, 
 but his trip was a business one. In his lonely life in the moun 
 tains, Mitchell had remained ignorant of all political issues. 
 With the instinctive caution of the frontiersman, as well as from 
 the natural reserve which he felt when among civilized (!) men, 
 he avoided all conversation on political questions. Patriotism 
 and suspicion at once spotted him as a dangerous man, and 
 caused him to be avoided or treated with indifference and marked 
 reserve. Once he was seen reading a newspaper with great in 
 terest. It was a fragment of an old New Orleans paper, bitterly 
 pro-slavery. He was observed to put it carefully in his pocket. 
 That night a masked company of free-soilers told him to leave 
 town in six hours, or he would be killed. He left. The article 
 he had been reading related to a new way of making hats, in 
 which silk was substituted for beaver fur, and prophesying that 
 the latter would be entirely supplanted ! 
 
 On another occasion he went into a store to buy a lot of 
 powder and ball to take back with him. The storekeeper looked 
 
 43 
 
770 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 suspiciously at him, and asked him where he came from. 
 "None of yer business," said Mitchell. "What do you want 
 with ammunition ? " " To load my gun. What d' ye s'pose ; 
 did you think I wanted ter make bread of it?" This was 
 enough for the storekeeper. With a triumphant glance at the 
 bystanders he said, " I understand what you free-soilers want 
 with ammunition, you dogs ; you want to kill us. We want all 
 we have ourselves." All this to the poor mountaineer, who 
 considered every white man his " brother," was insupportable. 
 Hastily finishing his business, he gave up a long contemplated 
 trip to the eastern cities, and started back to New Mexico. A 
 friend fell in with him on his return trip, and asked where he 
 had been. 
 
 "After being away for twenty years, I thought I would like 
 to see the whites once more. But what I saw in Kansas dis 
 gusted me so I could go no further. They do nothing but get 
 up war-parties against each other. I would rather be in an 
 Indian country than in civilized Kansas." 
 
 We have already hinted at a fact which, though its origin 
 was thousands of miles away, in Europe, reached in its effect 
 the lonely mountains of New Mexico, and robbed Kit Carson 
 and his friends of their occupation. The increasing scarcity and 
 high prices of the beaver fur had induced the hat manufacturers 
 of Europe to look for a substitute. It was found in silk, which, 
 though not sa durable, presented an equally beautiful appear 
 ance in the " plug " hat. Thus the market for beaver fur was 
 seriously affected. The prices fell with the demand, and the 
 lonely mountaineer, like Othello, found "his occupation gone." 
 
 This fact, sad enough for the poor trappers, is repeated at 
 every step in the progress of civilization. Human invention is 
 constantly destroying old trades and occupations. It makes a 
 reaping machine, and both the men. who use and the men who 
 manufacture the " cradle " are thrown out of employment. It 
 builds a railroad, and all the innkeepers, who had their clean little 
 hostelries distributed along the roads, so that, after each day's 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 771 
 
 journey, the tired traveler might find lodging and refreshment 
 for " man and beast," find their inns deserted and their business 
 gone. It invents a loom, by which, with one boy to fill the 
 shuttles, the work of twenty hand-weavers is done ? and better 
 done. It constructs an automatic air brake for the express train, 
 and the brakesmen are discharged ; the engineer does their work, 
 and does it better. All this presents a great problem. In order 
 to live, men must have work. Every year an increasing multi 
 tude complain, and not without reason, that there is less labor 
 to do than formerly, and that theiy 'hands, though willing, can 
 find no task. Idle classes are dangerous. They are brought 
 into the world without asking their consent, and being here they 
 demand, and rightly, too, that they shall have an opportunity 
 to earn money and procure food. All this, we say, presents a 
 great and serious question. So it was, when their trade was 
 taken away, the trappers were grieved and angry. They felt 
 like striking back, but whom should they hit? Deep in their 
 sullen Jidfets they cursed the inventor of the silk hat. He was 
 a dog, ! g devil, a brute ! 
 
 Kit to some extent shared these feelings, but he cheerfully 
 sought another occupation. There was a trading-post called 
 Bent's Fort. Here he was offered the position of hunter to the 
 fort. It was the duty of the hunter to provide the daily supply 
 of game, summer and winter, for the table of the fort. If he 
 had bad luck in his hunting, the fellows at the fort were sure to be 
 cross. If his provision lacked variety, they were likely to speak 
 of it. Carson's great skill with his gun caused him to be sought 
 after for this position. He accepted it, and held it for eight 
 consecutive years. It is said that, during all these years, " not 
 a single word of disagreement passed between him and his em 
 ployers." This fact is a monument to Kit's expertness as a 
 hunter. 
 
 If any thing in the world will bring on a fuss, it is an in 
 sufficient meal. Kit's boarders were unfailingly provided for. 
 He never returned empty handed. On these expeditions Kit 
 
72 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 was mounted on his magnificent horse, "Apache." They knew 
 and loved each other. Neither horse nor rider had an equal, as 
 hunters, in the Rocky Mountains. During these years Kit's 
 fame spread over the entire West. He was called the " Monarch 
 
 CARSON AND HIS FAVORITE HORSE, "APACHE." 
 
 of the Prairies, the " Nestor of New Mexico ; " but the name he 
 was most pleased with was, the " Hero of the Rockies." Among 
 the lodges of the Arrapahoes, Cheyennes, and Comanches, Kit 
 was an honored guest on many occasions. One reason for his 
 remaining so quiet for eight years is found in his marriage with 
 
CARSON CONDUCTING EMIGRANTS ACROSS THE SIERRA NEVADA 773 
 

. THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 775 
 
 an Indian girl, of whom he was passionately fond. It was his 
 misfortune to lose his dusky bride by death, when they had only 
 been married two years. To an infant daughter, however, were 
 transferred the entire wealth of his affections. When of suita 
 ble age, he sent her to St. Louis, to receive every advantage 
 which education could bestow. During this time Carson guided 
 many emigrants across the Sierra Nevada Mountains, patiently 
 helping their toiling ox-teams along the rocky roads. 
 
 In 1842, Carson made a trip to the States. For the first 
 time in sixteen years, he looked upon the home of his childhood. 
 But Time had swept his unsparing hand over the place. The 
 old log cabin, in the door of which Kit's mother had stood six 
 teen years before, waving her hand to her boy as he rode proudly 
 away that sunny morning, was now a crumbling ruin. No light 
 gleamed from its cheerless window. No loving arms were 
 clasped convulsively around the wanderers neck. 
 
 The father and mother slept the sleep that knows no wak 
 ing, beneath the foot of a lonely forest tree, and within hearing 
 of the ceaseless murmur of the Missouri River. Brothers and 
 sisters, too, were gone ; some dead ; some, impelled by the 
 same restless spirit which made its home in the heart of Carson, 
 were scattered abroad in the wildernesses of the West. None left ! 
 Staggered at this desolation", Carson sat down in the shadows 
 of a double darkness the darkness of the night without, and 
 of the night within. And as the night-bird, wandering from its 
 mate, uttered its lonely cry in the gloom of the forest, the 
 strong man, sensible of his utter loneliness, gave way to the 
 melancholy of the hour, and wept in the solitude as only men 
 can weep. 
 
 Shaking off these sad memories, Kit went to St. Louis, 
 where he spent ten days. It was his first visit to a great city. 
 The roar of the streets and bustle of excited throngs contrasted 
 strangely with his life in the mountains. But he was no 
 " greeny," ready to bite at the traps of the city sharpers. He 
 visited the places of interest, investigated the methods of doing 
 
776 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 business, and availed himself of his opportunities for acquiring 
 information. 
 
 But this trip had one momentous result. Carson became 
 acquainted with Lieutenant John C. Fremont, who was just pro 
 ceeding on his first journey of exploration. Fremont was 
 greatly in need of an experienced pioneer to guide his party 
 through the mountains, as well as give them the benefit of his 
 experience as to means of subsistence and defense against 
 Indians. Opportunely meeting Carson, he employed him, and 
 thus Kit was introduced into a work which has made his 
 name a household word throughout the republic. The object 
 of the expedition was to survey the South Pass, in what we 
 know as Wyoming Territory, and obtain the altitude of the 
 highest peaks. Up to this time, America was profoundly 
 ignorant of the West. 
 
 The success of the expedition was complete. Carson had 
 proven invaluable, for his hunting and trapping career had made 
 him familiar with the entire West, from Mexico on the south 
 to British America on the north. In the following year, Fre 
 mont made his second exploring expedition, on behalf of the 
 United States Government. As before, he made Carson his 
 right-hand man. His object this time was to push his investi 
 gations westward from the Rockies to the Sierra Nevadas, there 
 connect his work with the Pacific coast surveys, which had 
 already been made, and thus lay a foundation for a survey and 
 map of the entire West. 
 
 This party had many thrilling adventures. After leaving 
 the Rockies, and traveling many days across the barren plains, 
 their provisions began to give out. The journey was longer, 
 and game scarcer, than they expected. Before them lay the 
 snowy Sierras ; to attempt to cross them in the enfeebled con 
 dition of the party was perilous in the extreme. Behind, lay 
 the plains they had just traversed ; to retrace their steps was to 
 starve long before they reached a point where supplies could be 
 had. So it was that the only record of Fremont's second expe- 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 777 
 
 dition came near being the horrible hieroglyphics of bleaching 
 skeletons, which are so often left by explorers, the fearful mean 
 ing of which is so readily understood. 
 
 To attempt a crossing of the mountains was urged by Carson 
 as the only alternative. It was resolved upon. Snow-shoes for 
 the entire party were indispensable to traversing the whitened 
 expanse, into the depths of which a man unshod would sink 
 out of sight forever. Kit swiftly instructed the men how to 
 make them, and then, with an advance party, pushed on to 
 explore the route, and see if it was practicable to break a path 
 for the animals. The distance was three leagues. Carson said 
 if they could make that, the green valley of the Sacramento, 
 with its splendid game and abounding forage, would open before 
 the weary wanderers. It was a labor of fifteen days to beat and 
 pack the snow with mallets for the passage of the mules. But 
 in this time, most of the animals had died. In the extremity 
 of the situation, the famished beasts ate each other's tails and 
 tore the leather from the pack saddles to devour it. At last, 
 Sutter's Fort was reached, with its hospitable welcome and its 
 abundant table. Carson cautioned the men to eat sparingly, but 
 they could not be restrained. Partly from the terrible strain 
 which they had endured, partly from too sudden indulgence, 
 two of the party lost their reason and became raving maniacs. 
 
 On the return trip, just at they were going to camp one 
 evening, a man and boy ran up. The strangers hastily related 
 that they belonged to a Mexican trading party. They, with 
 four others, had been left in charge of the horses, and in the 
 absence of the main party, these six, two of whom were women, 
 were attacked by Indians. The two speakers, Fuentes and the 
 boy, Pablo, had managed to get away. Anguish riven, the one 
 by the unknown fate of his wife, the other by that of his father 
 and mother, they implored the help of the explorers. Only two 
 men volunteered their assistance, Kit Carson and his fellow 
 mountaineer, Godey. The lips of sorrow never appealed in vain 
 to the brave but unselfish Carson. 
 
778 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 There were thirty Indians in the attacking party. Carson 
 and Godey, accompanied by Fuentes, determined to attempt a 
 rescue of the unfortunate captives. Quickly striking the trail 
 of the marauders, they commenced their pursuit. At the end 
 of twenty miles the horse Fuentes rode broke down. To pro 
 cure another was impossible. Leaving the unfortunate man 
 behind, Oarson and his companion dashed on their errand of 
 kindness. It was two men against thirty. But fear was a 
 stranger to the bold hearts. All day they rode. Night came 
 on. Still they rested not. Much of the time they led their 
 horses, and followed the trail in the darkness by feeling. The 
 tracks grew fresher. A few hours only separated them from 
 the chase. To be fresh for the fray they dismounted, and 
 wrapped in their blankets, wet with heavy dew, they tried to 
 sleep. But the cold, wet atmosphere rendered sleep impossible. 
 No fire could be lighted. At early dawn they perceived a neigh 
 boring ravine. There they thought safe to build a small fire 
 and warm themselves. The horses were again mounted. 
 
 The sun was still on his upward journey when they discov 
 ered their enemies, thirty in all, engaged in their usual feast of 
 horse-flesh. The stolen animals, which were yet alive, were 
 .picketed at a short distance. The two mountaineers determined 
 to crawl in among the horses, and then be guided by events. 
 The strange figures of the crawling men frightened a colt, and 
 stirred up a commotion in the herd. The Indians, ever quick 
 to read the signal of danger in the conduct of their animals, 
 sprang for their weapons. As the savages came in range the 
 trappers fired. Two braves bit the dust. The remainder, aston 
 ished at the conduct of Carson and Godey, suddenly seemed to 
 believe that the two were a decoy, supported by a large party, 
 which sought by stratagem to lure them into giving battle. 
 
 As Kit had foreseen, the Indians at once fled, leaving their 
 camp to the victors. Here the terrible scene presented itself 
 of the mangled bodies of the two men, pierced with a hundred 
 arrows. The women were found a little further off. Their 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 781 
 
 naked bodies each had a sharpened stake driven through it into 
 the ground. With sad hearts at the comparative failure of their 
 errand, the trappers interred the bodies, collected the horses, 
 and took themselves back to their more selfish companions. 
 The property was restored to the strangers ; the sad story of 
 the victims told to the wifeless husband and the lonely boy. 
 Bowed down with grief, yet overflowing with gratitude, they 
 offered all their horses as a gift to Carson and Godey. Hastily 
 wiping away a tear with his shaggy sleeve, Kit refused to accept 
 any thing, and instead, thrust a small sum of money into the 
 boy's hand. Camp was broken. The men mounted, and with a 
 farewell to the strangers, the party rode away, leaving them 
 alone in the forest in the shadow of their mighty grief. 
 
 In the spring of 1845 Kit, being out of employment, resolved 
 to be a farmer. He determined to settle down, fell trees, grub 
 stumps, plow the glebe, sow seed, and gather crops ; to become 
 acquainted with corn husking, potato hoeing, and butter making ; 
 to learn the mystery of weaning calves, killing hogs, and string 
 ing dried pumpkin. It was a strange calling, that of the patient 
 farmer, for the impetuous Kit to select. But as men approach 
 middle life they become more and more conservative. Carson 
 and a mountaineer named Owens purchased an eligible tract of 
 land on which to make a farm. Kit furnished the money, and 
 laid in a stock of wooden plows, Mexican axes, farm carts, and 
 other utensils. With a company of hired hands he built tem 
 porary huts, and chopped away at the trees in fine style. True, 
 they were a little green at the business. The fences were rather 
 clumsy, the fields rather stumpy. The farm-house, which Kit 
 insisted on having built, was very large and barny, while the 
 barn was small and badly located. Still things moved on fairly, 
 and Kit might some day have made a farmer. He tried to per 
 suade himself he was contented. But when Fremont sent him 
 word of a third expedition Carson just took twenty-four hours 
 to sell out the whole place for a third of what it had cost, get 
 out his rifle, saddle his horse, and start to join Fremont. 
 
782 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The third expedition thus joined by Carson had many ad 
 ventures. One night, through carelessness in keeping watch, 
 some treacherous Klamath Indians stole in the camp and cleft 
 the skulls of three of the sleepers before they were discovered. 
 In retaliation Carson, at the head of a war party, burned their 
 village and killed twenty braves. The war with Mexico, which 
 was declared at that time, served to complicate the fortunes of 
 the explorers. Carson was detailed to take dispatches to Wash 
 ington City. On his way overland he met General Kearney, 
 who was under orders to proceed with his command to the scene 
 of hostilities in California. Kearney at once determined to for 
 ward the dispatches by another messenger, and have Carson 
 return with him as a guide. 
 
 Kit gave up his important trip to the capital with great 
 secret reluctance, but it was smothered in his own breast. He 
 saw how much he was needed. To serve others was always his 
 first impulse ; to consider himself, his last. Without a murmur 
 he turned back to the wilderness. It was not long before Kear 
 ney's command came in conflict with the Mexican forces. His 
 men, being nearly all on foot, suffered severely. In the first 
 regular battle Carson and a squad of twenty-five of the mounted 
 men headed a charge on the enemy. Just before reaching the 
 foe Kit's horse stumbled and fell, throwing its rider under the 
 feet of the advancing column, which dashed on right over him. 
 This accident, though fraught with great danger, in all prob 
 ability saved his life. Every man in the front squad of twenty- 
 five was killed except Kit. 
 
 The Mexicans continued to harass Kearney, at last manag 
 ing to surround him on a small hill, on which Kearney and his 
 command were virtually besieged. At the close of the day's 
 engagement, which found them in this perilous situation, a coun 
 cil of war was held. Three messengers had been previously dis 
 patched to San Diego with a call for re-enforcements. Each of 
 them had been made captive by the Mexicans before reaching 
 their destination. To attempt to break through the besieging 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 788 
 
 lines meant, in view of their own shattered condition and the 
 superior numbers of the enemy, certain destruction of the com 
 mand. To remain where they were for more than a short time 
 was impossible. The situation was gloomy in the extreme. 
 After all had expressed their opinions and no plan had been 
 suggested, Carson rose and said : " General, I will volunteer to 
 undertake to creep through the Mexican lines, push on to San. 
 Diego, and bring you succor." 
 
 The effect of the simple words was electric. Lieutenant 
 Beale, a brave young naval officer, offered to join Carson. 
 Kearney gratefully accepted the generous offer. Making fare 
 wells, which not improbably might be their last, Carson and 
 Beale slipped out under cover of the darkness, determined to 
 render up their lives rather than abandon the attempt. Crawl 
 ing stealthily on hands and knees, over rocks and through 
 thorny underbrush, stopping every few moments to listen, the 
 brave men slowly made their way into the hostile camp. In 
 spite of great care, their heavy shoes would sometimes strike 
 a rock, and it was found necessary to remove them and thrust 
 them into their belts. 
 
 The Mexican pickets were found to be arranged in three 
 rows, the sentinels in the second row being opposite the spaces 
 in the first, and the third opposite, the spaces in the second. 
 Carson at once decided to take a diagonal course through the 
 lines. Even this path took them within a short distance of the 
 watchful sentinels. The gleam of the bayonet in the starlight 
 shot through the overhanging branches ; yet, with Carson's mar 
 velous skill, the fruit of a lifetime of Indian warfare, they reached 
 the third line of pickets. In five minutes they would have been 
 safe. Though neither spoke, each felt the increased confidence 
 of the other. But, hush ! Kit, who was in the lead, with his 
 quick ear caught the sound of crunching twigs, and a heavy foot 
 fall approaching. Pushing Beale with his foot, as a signal to fol 
 low his example, Carson threw himself perfectly flat on the 
 ground, and awaited developments. The sounds grew louder. 
 
784 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Presently, the dim figure of a sentinel on horseback revealed 
 itself to the piercing eye of the pioneer. 
 
 On came the Mexican. The two Americans lay right in his 
 path. Beale said afterwards : " I looked on myself as a corpse." 
 When i within six feet of Carson, the Mexican dismounted 
 leisurely, drew out a cigaretto and a bit of paper, which, by the 
 help of flint and steel, he proceeded to ignite. The blaze of the 
 paper distinctly revealed the two prostrate forms. In relating 
 the story, Carson, who never exaggerated, said : " I heard every 
 heart-beat of Beale, as we lay there, and they sounded to me 
 like the strokes of a maul." But the Mexican, when the paper 
 blazed, was intent on lighting his cigaretto. He did not raise 
 his eyes. The yellow flame lit up his sinister countenance. He 
 leisurely drew three or four puffs, then, with a quick motion, 
 flung the little torch on the ground, where it flickered for a 
 moment and went out. With a grunt of satisfaction, he re-ad 
 justed his accouterments, mounted his horse, which, with finer 
 instinct than his master, was already snorting slightly at the 
 figures in the grass, and shortly disappeared among the trees. 
 
 Not till the Mexican was well out of the way, did Carson 
 stir. Then he commenced his onward progress. Feeling that 
 danger was now behind and not before them, they hurried for 
 ward. The Mexican camp was left far to the rear, and the dis 
 figured heroes rose and warmly clasped each other's hands in the 
 moment of thankfulness for their escape. To put on their shoes 
 was their first thought. But, misery of miseries, these had not 
 been thought of in the perilous journey of two miles on hands 
 and knees, and both pairs were missing. To push on barefooted 
 was the only alternative. Carson had no guide but the stars, 
 no map but his knowledge of the country. Yet, to avoid all 
 beaten trails, along which the enemy swarmed, and to select a 
 circuitous route to San Diego, over rocks and through thickets, 
 was easy work. The loss of their shoes was a terrible misfortune. 
 The country was covered with a thick growth of the prickly 
 pear, which, at every step, lacerated their bleeding feet with 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 785 
 
 poison- tipped needles. All night and all the next day, without 
 food or rest, sustained only by mental excitement and the thought 
 of the little body of suffering troops which was folded in the 
 fatal coils of the Mexican serpent, they proceeded. Another 
 night closed in around them ; yet they seemed insensible to 
 fatigue and pain. Toward midnight, the outlines of San Diego 
 were marked upon the horizon. Hurrying on, the poor fellows 
 made their way at once to the bed-room of Commodore Stockton, 
 and told him the situation of their comrades. Their condition 
 was pitiable clothing in rags, feet bleeding terribly and swollen 
 to twice their natural size, mind and body exhausted to the last 
 extremity. Their noble mission accomplished, poor Beale fainted 
 away, only to wake a gibbering maniac. It was two years 
 before reason fully re-asserted her sway. Carson, however, 
 would neither eat nor sleep until the relief column was on its 
 way. Then he, too, hardened, though he was, by exposure and 
 frontier life, broke down, and for a month was prostrated by his 
 fearful exertion. Kearney and his command were saved. 
 
 Carson subsequently made two trips to Washington City, 
 bearing dispatches to the government. At this time, he was 
 appointed Indian agent for New Mexico, as a reward for his 
 services in the war. Not being identified with any political 
 party, he lacked the backing, which, far more than merit or 
 service to his country, was required to obtain an office. The 
 United States Senate refused to confirm the appointment of the 
 honest and heroic pioneer. 
 
 For the second time in his life Kit resolved to settle down 
 as a farmer. This time he bought a place at Rayado. The 
 location was beautiful; the valley rich in soil and teeming with 
 noble game. Kit's second wife, whom he had married some 
 years before, was a highly connected Mexican lady. He was 
 attached to his children beyond any thing else on earth. He 
 built himself a comfortable mansion ; his farm was managed by 
 experienced hands. In spite of all the terrible experiences, which 
 lay like packs of wolves in the thicket of his memory, Carson was. 
 
786 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a happy man. The claims upon his skill as an Indian fighter 
 and his kindness to every suffering heart continued to reach 
 him in his happy valley. Thence he was frequently called to 
 guide United States troops, or attempt a rescue of some unfor 
 tunate captive. Perhaps he felt a more tender regret at leaving 
 home than formerly ; perhaps the effect which his death might 
 have on the happiness of his little family circle sometimes oc 
 curred to him, but he was as quick to respond as ever. 
 
 The Apaches at this time almost rendered life a burden in 
 Northern Mexico. They are small in stature, but a marvel of 
 symmetry in proportion, perfect in health, unequaled in athletic 
 skill and performance. The Apache's limbs are straight, his 
 muscles hard as iron, and his frame as elastic as rubber. 
 Treachery glistens in his coal-black eye, and the instinct of the 
 murderer is hidden in his heart. On one occasion word was 
 brought of the killing of a Mr. White, and the capture of his 
 wife and child. A detachment of troops undertook the rescue. 
 Carson was riding some distance in advance when he sighted 
 the redskins and their weeping captive on the opposite bank of 
 a stream. Carson yelled for the men to advance at double 
 quick, for he saw no time was to be lost. But for some reason 
 the officer in command was jealous of Kit, and coolly halted 
 his men. During that short halt Carson saw the tomahawk 
 sink into the skull of Mrs. White and her little girl. 
 
 Carson's adventurous disposition, instead of courting physi 
 cal danger, began to manifest itself in bold speculations, in 
 which he had great success. Nor was it remarkable. The 
 same disposition of genius, placed in different surroundings, will 
 manifest itself in a way externally different, but really the 
 same. It is said that Jay Gould, with his vast organizing 
 power, would equal Napoleon if placed in Napoleon's situation. 
 
 Kit's fame was a great burden to him. When in San Fran 
 cisco, he was lionized, passed free to theaters, on railroads, invited 
 to countless entertainments. This was embarrassing to the quiet 
 mountaineer. Once at Fort Laramie a fellow, who was but a 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 787 
 
 specimen from a large class, came in, eagerly seeking to have 
 the great Kit Carson pointed out to him. The bystanders 
 directed him to Kit. For a moment the stranger looked at 
 the small, mild-eyed, soft-mannered man before him in dumb 
 astonishment. He had looked for a large, fierce desperado to 
 correspond with the great feats of Kit he had heard of. In a 
 moment astonishment gave way to a knowing look, as he. said, 
 " See here, feller, what 's this yer givin' me ? Yer not Kit Car 
 son. Mind, I 'm no greenhorn. Howsurnever, 1 11 let yer off 
 this wunst, ef yer '11 pint out the genooine Kit." 
 
 Carson, with a face as grave as a parson, and an air of mock 
 timidity, pointed to an enormous trader, with a tremendous 
 mustache, dressed in a hunting shirt, buckskin leggins, and an 
 enormous slouch hat. This personage satisfied the stranger's 
 notion. Offering a " chaw of terbac " to Kit, who quietly de 
 clined it, he watched the big trader for an hour with the great 
 est interest, and then took himself off, well satisfied that he 
 had seen the "genooine Kit." He, like the majority of people, 
 looked to a large man for great deeds, one of the greatest delu 
 sions in the world, and one which is utterly refuted by history. 
 
 The popular reverence for large men and expansive stom 
 achs, is shown by the United States Senate, of which it is said 
 only a half dozen men fall below six feet, one inch, in height, 
 and two hundred and twenty pounds in weight. The Chinese, 
 we once heard a lecturer say, believe that the brains are in the 
 abdomen, and estimate a man's ability by his waist band. When 
 they wish to call a man an idiot they say, "Your stomach is 
 no larger than my little finger," while their rarest compliment 
 is, " Your stomach is three miles around !" It is possible the 
 lecturer was only satirizing the popular worship of stomachs, 
 which prevails in American politics. 
 
 One evening, as Kit returned to his comfortable farm at 
 Rayado, leading his noble horse, which was laden with a black- 
 tailed deer and some wild turkeys, a man informed hrm of a 
 plot for robbery and murder, to prevent which Carson's assist- 
 

 788 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ance was wanted. A ruffian named Fox had been engaged at 
 Taos in raising a band of desperadoes, who were ostensibly to 
 serve as an escort through the Indian country of two English 
 men, Brevoort and Weatherhead, who were supposed to carry 
 a large amount of money for investment in stock. The real 
 object of the villains was to murder the strangers and capture 
 the money. By some means a hint of the plot was dropped 
 and brought to Carson, who followed up the clue, satisfied him 
 self of its truth, and became convinced that the crime was to 
 be consummated in a lonely canon near Cimaron River. One 
 hour's preparation sufficed to place him at the head of thirty 
 finely mounted dragoons. Selecting a short route, known only 
 to himself, Carson required of his men the highest possible speed. 
 It was the only hope, and was successful. The chase was over 
 taken. Fox was arrested before he could strike a blow. The 
 astonished Englishmen were informed of their danger. The 
 gang of desperadoes were ordered to leave camp. Messrs. Bre 
 voort and Weatherhead afterward presented Kit with a superb 
 pair of silver-mounted revolvers as a token of their gratitude. 
 
 The following summer Kit went to St. Louis on a trading 
 trip. On his return he brought with him a large stock of goods. 
 One day, as the train wended its way over the green prairies, 
 a village of Cheyennes was discovered by the party. One of 
 their braves had been flogged for some misdemeanor by a party 
 of whites a few days before, and the tribe was ablaze with 
 wrath. Carson knew nothing of the grievance, but quickly 
 perceived that an attack was contemplated. Orders were given 
 for each man to be on the alert, and the village was left twenty 
 miles to the rear, v^hen small parties of warriors of twos and 
 threes began to come in sight. These had on their war-paint 
 and feathers. As they approached Carson spoke to them in a 
 friendly way, and to show he was not afraid, went into camp, 
 and invited the Indians to come in and have a smoke. 
 
 No sooner had the pipe gone round than the Indians began 
 to talk vigorously among themselves. It must not be forgotten 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 789 
 
 that several years before, while hunter at Bent's fort, Carson 
 had been a great friend of the Cheyennes. His appearance had 
 greatly changed, and he was not recognized. Every word of 
 the visitors was understood by him. Supposing they were not 
 understood, they were coolly perfecting a plot to massacre the 
 whites. Suddenly Kit stepped forward, told them his name, 
 how he had once been a friend, and had to his knowledge never 
 wronged their tribe. Now they rewarded him with a plan to 
 kill him. He closed by ordering them to leave the camp or 
 they would be shot. Nonplused at the turn affairs had taken, 
 with a threat of return, they hastily left. 
 
 The train moved on. Each man walked beside his mule, a 
 whip in one hand and a rifle in the other. Carson plainly told 
 the men they were in great peril, but inspired them with his 
 own courage. He scanned the horizon incessantly, but saw noth 
 ing more dangerous than a hungry wolf or a wandering antelope. 
 Evening came. The wagons were arranged in a circle, inside of 
 which the mules were tethered. Grass was cut and fed to them. 
 The men gathered some driftwood, and built their camp fire also 
 in the guarded ring. Carson felt that the responsibility of sav 
 ing his men rested with him. In the party was one of those 
 Mexican runners, a young man who, with a message in his 
 head, can run with little fatigue seventy miles in a day. 
 Calling the boy outside the wagons, when the supper was over, 
 Carson pointed out the direction of Rayado, and told him he 
 must leave many miles behind him by sunrise. The lad bent 
 his dark intelligent face upon his master, and resolved to make 
 every exertion to fulfill his command. Obtaining a few rations 
 of provisions, which he bound about his waist, he received from 
 Kit full instructions as to the dangerous places in the journey. 
 He was to proceed with the utmost speed to Rayado, and start 
 out a relief party. Making his bow, he started swiftly on his 
 errand. Kit watched the agile figure, as it sped over the 
 prairie in the dim moonlight, until it was but a speck on the 
 horizon. 
 
 44 
 

 790 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The camp was not disturbed that night. The following 
 morning five Indians appeared. Carson called to them, told them 
 he had the night before dispatched a fleet messenger to Rayado, 
 and that if his party was massacred, his friends, the soldiers, 
 would surely inflict swift and terrible vengeance on the Chey- 
 ennes. The Indians said they would look for his moccasin 
 tracks and see if the story was true. Carson saw that this was 
 a turning point in his favor. An hour later the whole village of 
 Cheyennes passed in sight, evidently making for safety as fast 
 as possible. They had found the moccasin tracks, and saw the 
 chase had been gone too long to be overtaken. The train pro 
 ceeded without interruption, until they met a body of troops, 
 who had started at once on the arrival of the Mexican runner. 
 Under this strong escort the remainder of the trip was happily 
 completed. 
 
 In 1853, Kit was again appointed and this time confirmed as 
 Indian agent, a position he graced and honored as no other 
 living American would have done. His great knowledge of 
 Indian character was a splendid equipment. Sometimes around 
 their council fires he distributed the bounty of the government, 
 and instructed them, in the primary lessons of civilization. 
 Sometimes it was at his own home that he received them as 
 friends, and earnestly advised them to let whisky alone. Again 
 at the head of a column of United States troops he filled the 
 faithless hearts of the Apaches with a fear of justice if not a 
 love of kindness. In one hand he offered the olive branch; in 
 the other, he held his loaded rifle. 
 
 Kit at last permanently quieted the Utahs and Apaches. 
 Thenceforward he devoted himself to the works of peace among 
 his Indian proteges. The fierce passion for war was supplanted 
 in their breasts by a love of comfort and domestic life; the 
 tomahawk and the scalping knife grew rusty and forgotten, while 
 the sinewy hand which had wielded them learned to grasp the 
 plow and the sickle. Kit, too, felt that in the remainder of his 
 life war and adventure would have no place. He was mistaken. 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 791 
 
 The flames of the civil war were already filling the heavens 
 with the red light of doom. Carson was destined to serve his 
 ountry as a soldier. A lover of the Union, he was made Colonel 
 of the First New Mexico Volunteers. The Indians, always 
 ready to seize a pretext for making war on the government, 
 cast in their lot with the Confederacy. Far away on the plains 
 and in the mountains of New Mexico, where the roar of Gettys 
 burg was silent, and the story of bloody Chickamauga was 
 unknown, there took place terrible struggles between combatants 
 who knew not the ideas for which they fought. The red man 
 fought to be fighting the whites. The brave New Mexican fought 
 the Indian much as he had fought him all his life. The shock 
 of the civil war hurled these ancient foes upon the frontier of 
 civilization against each other. But while the ideas were not 
 present with them as they were among the ranks on many a his 
 toric field of conflict, the battle was none the less bloody and 
 the suffering none the less severe. 
 
 The campaigns conducted by Carson were splendidly man 
 aged. On the sixth day of January, 1864, he started out with 
 a force of four hundred men, only twenty of whom were mounted, 
 upon the famous expedition which forever crushed the power 
 of the Navajoes. By maneuvering with a skill of which Carson 
 alone was capable in an Indian war, he succeeded in entrapping 
 the bulk of the Navajoe Nation in the Canon de Chelly, one of 
 the largest on the globe. It is forty miles long, with perpen 
 dicular walls of rock, fifteen hundred feet high. Carson quickly 
 divided his command, sending one detachment to enter at the 
 east end, while he planted himself at the mouth. Far down in 
 the gloomy depths, the narrow bit of sky looking like a blue 
 ribbon above them, the column cautiously picked its way. 
 Scattering bands of Indians, who saw the doom of their com 
 panions, posted themselves along the rocks and crags to annoy 
 the troops, but their efforts were ineffectual. Sometimes a volley 
 was fired from below, at the pigmy warriors on the dizzy height, 
 but generally they reserved themselves for the larger game 
 
792 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 which was in the trap. On the second day, Carson attacked 
 the whole force of Indians as they attempted in vain to break 
 out of the deadly chasm. They were terribly punished, and 
 were at last forced to surrender. 
 
 By this splendid strategy, between five and ten thousand 
 Indians surrendered to Carson, the largest capture ever made in 
 Indian warfare ; and this was achieved by four hundred soldiers, 
 with scarcely the loss of a man. The entire war presents no finer 
 piece of generalship. The majority of the captives were placed 
 on a reservation in Arkansas, but were subsequently permitted 
 to return to their old hunting-grounds, where they are living in 
 happiness and peace. 
 
 In the official report to the War Department, is the following : 
 
 "You have, doubtless, seen the last of the Navajoe war, a 
 war that has continued, with but few intermissions, for the last 
 one hundred and eighty years, and which during that time has 
 been marked by every shade of atrocity, brutality, and ferocity 
 which can be imagined. I beg to congratulate you on the pros 
 pect that this formidable band of robbers and murderers has 
 been at last made to succumb. To Colonel Kit Carson, in com 
 mand of the expedition, whose courage and perseverance excited 
 all to great energy and inspired great resolution, the credit is 
 mainly due." 
 
 For his gallant services, " Colonel Kit Carson " was pro 
 moted to the rank of brigadier-general. 
 
 After the close of the war, Kit, as we will continue to call 
 him, found himself in failing health, the result of an accident 
 in 1860. He was descending a steep mountain, leading his 
 horse, when the animal slipped and fell on him, inflicting internal 
 injury. In spite of sickness, he labored unceasingly to promote 
 the welfare of the Indians. On the 27th of April, 1868, his 
 wife died suddenly, leaving seven children. This threw him 
 into the deepest dejection. In a few days, he found himself too 
 weak to ride horseback, his lifelong pleasure. Then he took 
 short walks around his yard. Then it was noticed that even 
 
THE HISTORY OF KIT CARSON. 793 
 
 this was too much for him; he no longer left his room. Silent 
 and thoughtful, the hero would sit in his arm-chair all day long. 
 Sometimes, a smile would break over his face ; again, the look 
 would be one of intense concentration. Perhaps he was, in fancy, 
 living over his life as a trapper, as hunter to Bent's Fort, or as 
 guide for Fremont and rescuer of Kearney's command. 
 
 One morning, Kit Carson was too weak to leave his bed. 
 The next, the 23d of May, 1868, he refused all nourishment. 
 Towards evening, a film coated the kindly eye, and the hand 
 responded more and more feebly to the will. It was evening. 
 The great sun had thrown its latest radiance upon the lowly 
 couch, and was sinking behind the lonely Rockies, over which 
 he had so often wandered. Suddenly he called out in a clear 
 voice, " Doctor, Compadre, adios !" It was the end. 
 
 One of Nature's noblemen had passed away. 
 
'94 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 OHAPTEE XXYI. 
 
 THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 
 
 [DYING hatred of the pale-face was the leading 
 trait in the character of many of the Indian 
 tribes of the West. From time to- time, in the 
 preceding pages of this book, we have caught 
 glimpses of the great and terrible Dakota, or 
 Sioux Indians, as they are now called. We 
 have seen them sending bands of fierce warriors 
 from their distant home beyond the Mississippi, 
 being the territory now covered by Minnesota, northern Iowa, 
 and Dakota, to take part in the great wars of the East. These 
 bands of braves traveled thousands of miles to become partici 
 pants in the Old French War, in the conspiracy of Pontiac, and 
 all the other border struggles. Such was their appetite for 
 war, that no obstacles of distance or danger could keep the 
 Dakotas from taking part. 
 
 As the line of border settlements moved westward, they at 
 last reached the home of these people. Various treaties were 
 made between them and the United States. By the terms of 
 these treaties, the tribes or bands occupying what is now Min 
 nesota and northern Iowa relinquished all their territory, in 
 consideration of heavy annuities, which the United States agreed 
 to pay, with the exception of a reserved strip of territory ex 
 tending along either side of the Minnesota River for the distance 
 of one hundred and fifty miles. The tribes whose homes were 
 on this reservation were four in number. Two of these had their 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 795 
 
 head-quarters in .the western end of the reservation, and were 
 known as the Upper Sioux. The others, being on the east and 
 center of the reservation, were known as the Lower Sioux. Of 
 these latter, the principal chief was Little Crow. 
 
 The government established two posts or agencies on the 
 reservation. The upper agency, where the Indian agent resided, 
 was at Yellow Medicine. The lower post was located at a 
 point ten miles below the mouth of the Red Wood River. At 
 these places were located the government warehouses, the 
 dwellings of the agent and employes of the government, of which 
 latter the number was about two hundred at the time of the 
 tragedy hereinafter related, as well as various machine shops and 
 traders' cabins. At these points, the Indians assembled annually 
 to receive their money from the government, the most important 
 event of the year. Twelve miles from the lower agency, on the 
 north side of the Minnesota, the government erected a military 
 post known as Fort Ridgley. 
 
 In 1858, the simple provisions of the former treaties were 
 modified by an elaborate scheme for the civilization of the Indians. 
 They surrendered all their land on the north side of the Minne 
 sota, retaining only the strip some ten miles wide on the south 
 side of the river. The " civilization scheme " was, in brief, the 
 reservation of a portion of the annuity each year, to constitute 
 a civilization fund. This money was to be expended in behalf 
 of such of the Indians as would give up their tribal relations 
 and adopt the habits and modes of the white man. To every 
 head of a family who was willing to do this was to be set off 
 a farm of eighty acres, on which the government was to erect 
 the necessary buildings, and to furnish the usual supply of farm 
 ing implements and live stock. In addition to this, they 
 were to be paid by the day for their labor on their own farms, 
 and, at the same time, to retain the crop which they raised. In 
 1862, one hundred and sixty farms of this description had been 
 opened and occupied. The dwellings were neat and comfortable, 
 many of them being built of brick. The large majority of 
 
796 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 these Indian farmers belonged to the lower bands, and Little 
 Crow himself was one of the number. 
 
 This move on the part of. the government opened a wide 
 schism in the tribes. The "blanket Indians," of whom there 
 were over five thousand on the reservation, felt deeply injured 
 at the detention of a part of their annuity fund, and -lost no 
 opportunity to worry the life out of the handful of "farmer 
 Indians." These savages, whenever the chase failed them, would 
 resort to the homes of the farmer Indians, pitch their tepees 
 around the house of some relative, and at once proceed to eat 
 him out of house and home. When provision was exhausted, 
 the farmer would be compelled to resort to the chase. In his 
 absence the blanket Indians would destroy whatever displeased 
 their fancy, and then move on to some other spot. The terri 
 tory around the reservation and bordering upon it, in the various 
 counties of Henville, Brown, Blue Earth, Kandiyohi, Meeker, 
 McLeod, Sibley, Cottonwood, and Watonwan, was populated at 
 the time of the tragedy by forty thousand people. 
 
 On the 15th of August, 1862, Little Crow seemed to be 
 pleased and happy. He was at work digging a cellar for the 
 new brick house, which the government had agreed to build for 
 him. On that day Major Galbraith went down to see him. 
 The teamsters were busily engaged in hauling brick, and the 
 government carpenters were making the window and door 
 frames. Major Galbraith talked at length with Little Crow, 
 and the latter appeared to be at peace with all the world and 
 gratified beyond measure at his new house. The agent had 
 gone down there with some trifling apprehension. In the first 
 place there had for several years been some dissatisfaction 
 among the Indians at the non-payment of a considerable part 
 of the money which the government had promised them. There 
 had perhaps been some embezzlements. Besides this, large sums 
 of money had been paid to the traders for goods which they 
 claimed the Indians had bought, instead of to the " chiefs in 
 open council," as the treaty required. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 797 
 
 Another ancient source of irritation among the Sioux grew 
 out of a massacre in 1857, at Spirit Lake. For some years 
 prior to that time a desperate Indian named Inkpaduta had 
 resided on the reservation. Although he was not a chief he 
 drew money on behalf of several persons who were afraid to 
 disown him lest in his anger he would kill them. A handful 
 of desperadoes always accompanied him. One day some settlers, 
 who had suffered from the depredations of this band of ruffians, 
 took away their guns. By some means Inkpaduta and his fol 
 lowers, who numbered about fifteen, procured other weapons, 
 and went to a house on Spirit Lake with a demand for food. 
 Those who came in first with this request were supplied. A 
 second lot of applicants were informed by the people of the 
 house that they could spare nothing more. The Indians in 
 stantly murdered every member of the family; they then passed 
 from house to house along the lake massacring the people until 
 no less than forty-seven persons had been killed, before the set 
 tlers rallied and drove them out of the country. 
 
 The government at once demanded that the Sioux give up 
 the murderers. Accordingly Little Crow took a band of one 
 hundred warriors, and started out to hunt the rascals. Three 
 were found and killed, but at the end of thirteen days Little 
 Crow returned and told the agent that he had done enough, and 
 would not hunt the murderers any longer. Unfortunately the 
 government submitted, and the Indians never forgot the fact. 
 Little Crow reasoned that if the United States was too weak to 
 insist on the punishment of a few Indians, who had murdered 
 three times their own number of white people, it would be too 
 weak to punish the whole tribe of Sioux should it revolt. The 
 innate hostility of the Indians toward the aggressions of the 
 white man and the bad feeling about the payment of annuities 
 was re-enforced by the feud between the " Scalp Locks " and 
 " Blanket Indians " on the one hand, and the " Cut-hair " and 
 " Pantaloon Indians " on the other. The former party was 
 intensely jealous of the favor with which the government 
 
798 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 regarded the other. Little Crow, though living in a house, was 
 the leader of the " Blanket Indians." The promise of a new 
 house had been made in order to. fasten his rather doubtful 
 alliance with the farmer Indians. 
 
 In addition to these general causes for apprehension, there 
 were other and more local ones. The civil war, it will be re 
 membered, was in the second year of its course. The resources 
 of the government were drained to the utmost to raise and equip 
 armies. As a consequence, the annuity money had not been 
 sent. Th^ crops of the previous year had failed. The Indians 
 asked every day at the agency for their money, and when told 
 it had not come, went away with angry words and threatening 
 gestures, alleging that they, with their women and children, 
 were starving. 
 
 On the 14th of July, 1862, five thousand angry Sioux gath 
 ered around the agency at Yellow Medicine, demanding food. 
 The government employes temporized with them as well as 
 possible, but the provision of the post was itself almost exhaus 
 ted. On the 4th of August five hundred and fifty warriors 
 broke into the parade ground of the post in a boisterous man 
 ner, surrounded the warehouse, chopped down the door, and 
 commenced carrying out the provision. The troops of the fort 
 had by this time rallied, and drove the Indians out of the ware 
 house. The trouble was patched up, but the Indians should 
 have been punished. This was impossible, because there was 
 no power to punish them. The military posts of the frontier 
 had been almost emptied of their soldiers, who were needed to 
 take part in the great war which was then absorbing the thought 
 and energy of the whole American people. 
 
 On the same day a hundred armed warriors appeared in front 
 of Fort Ridgley, which was garrisoned by only thirty men, and 
 asked permission to have a dance in the parade ground. This 
 request was refused, and the Indians contented themselves with 
 a pow-wow outside of the fort. No one apprehended any dan 
 ger except a sergeant named Jones, who insisted on taking his 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. . 799 
 
 stand beside a loaded howitzer pointed toward the Indians. He 
 not only stood there during the afternoon, but remained all night 
 by the gun, ready to fire at the first alarm. Two weeks later 
 it was ascertained that the Indians had intended to massacre the 
 garrison, seize the arms, break open the magazine, and supply 
 themselves and their friends with ammunition. This accom 
 plished, the whole body of Sioux were to inaugurate a war to 
 drive the white men out of the Minnesota valley. They were 
 foiled in. the attempt, which could easily have succeeded, as the 
 gates of the fort were always open, by Sergeant Jones pointing 
 a loaded cannon at them. For the time being this roused no 
 particular suspicion. 
 
 On the morning of the 15th of August, a drunken Indian 
 was heard to boast that the Sioux were going to kill off all the 
 white men. All these things had so disturbed Major Galbraith 
 that he had resolved, as we have seen, to interview Little Crow. 
 He was relieved to find the sage Indian busy with the innocent 
 work of digging, and apparently in perfect good humor. The 
 agent rode away with all suspicion driven from his mind. On 
 Sunday, August 17th, Little Crow attended church, and gave 
 the sermon the most devout attention. That evening he held 
 a council up in the country. The proceedings of the council 
 are not known, except by inference from the terrible events 
 which happened on the morrow. 
 
 Meanwhile a preliminary tragedy was taking place at the 
 town of Acton, thirty-five miles from the lower agency, at the 
 mouth of the Red Wood. Mr. Robinson Jones kept a country 
 inn at this place. At one o'clock in the afternoon, a half dozen 
 Indians appeared at the door, demanding food. As the kitchen 
 of the little inn was entirely under the charge of Mrs. Jones, 
 who was at the house of her son-in-law, Howard Baker, three- 
 quarters of a mile away, Jones told them he could not get them 
 any thing to eat. Seeing that they were angry, Jones took his 
 son and daughter, and went over to Baker's himself, being fol 
 lowed by the Indians. A Mr. Webster and Mr. Baker were at 
 
800 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the house. The Indians proposed target-shooting, to which the 
 three men acceded. The Indians fired first, and commenced re 
 loading their guns. When the guns of the white men were 
 emptied, the savages suddenly shot them down. Two or three 
 other members of the family were killed, when the savages, 
 seizing a span of horses, drove hastily away. 
 
 The council presided over by Little Crow on Sunday evening, 
 August 17, 1862, acted with swiftness and secrecy. During 
 the night the entire force of warriors of the lower tribes 
 armed and painted for battle, and distributed themselves 
 among the white settlements, sprinkled through a region forty 
 miles in extent. Two hundred and fifty Indians were silently 
 posted at the lower agency. At early dawn, Monday morning, 
 Mr. Prescott, an interpreter, coming out of the door of his 
 dwelling to get some fire-wood, was surprised to see the street 
 swarming with painted savages. At this moment, Little Crow 
 passed the house. Prescott, asking the trouble, was answered, 
 " Go in your house and stay there." John Lamb, a government 
 teamster, was just coming out of his stable, when he was fired 
 upon and killed. This was the first shot. The Indians at once 
 seized the horses, and were appropriating them when Mr. Wag 
 ner came running out to stop it. Little Crow ordered him to 
 be shot, which was instantly done. 
 
 The tide of death at once overflowed through the settlement 
 in all directions. Hearing the shots, the people came running 
 out to ascertain the trouble, only to fall victims to the ruthless 
 murderers. Six men were in the store of William Forbes. 
 They started out of the door, and were instantly fired upon. 
 Four were killed outright. Mr. Spencer ran back into the 
 store, and started upstairs. Concealing himself under a bed, he 
 could hear the rioters breaking open the cases of goods and 
 carrying them out. Presently the Indians commenced to talk 
 of burning the house. Spencer quickly took the bed-cord, fast 
 ened one end to a post, and carried the other to a window, 
 which he raised. At this moment, the Indians burst into his 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 801 
 
 room, seized him, and took him down stairs. His captors hap 
 pened to be friends, and whispered that they would save him. 
 They took Spencer out through the yelling mob, and carried 
 him to their lodge, four miles away, where he remained in 
 safety. 
 
 Similar attacks were made on the other stores and houses, 
 and numbers of people killed. Meanwhile, the alarm had spread 
 through the entire settlement, and the panic-stricken people 
 were flying in all directions. Mr. Hinman and his family suc 
 ceeded in reaching the ferry, and crossed the Minnesota River 
 in that way. Mr. J. C. Dickinson hurriedly harnessed his 
 horses to a wagon, placed his family in it, and galloped toward 
 a deep ford, which he made in safety. Dr. Humphrey, with a 
 sick wife and four children, also crossed the river on their way 
 to Fort Eidgley. After proceeding four miles, Mrs. Humphrey 
 became too ill to proceed further. Near by stood the house of 
 a settler whose family had fled to the fort, leaving doors and 
 windows wide. Here the refugees stopped. The sick woman 
 was laid upon a bed. The son hurried to a spring in a neigh 
 boring ravine to get some water for his mother, leaving his 
 father to keep guard at the house. While at the spring, the 
 terrified boy heard a war-whoop, followed by a series of shots, 
 at the house. The boy fled to the fort. An hour later, some 
 soldiers passing by found the corpse of the boy's father lying in 
 the front yard, with the brains beat out between two rocks. The 
 house itself was a heap of smoking embers, in the midst of which 
 were discovered the blackened remains of Mrs. Humphrey and 
 her two little children. 
 
 At the time of the first alarm, John Nairn, the head carpen 
 ter, had seized his wife and children, and hurried through the 
 prairie in the direction of the fort. He was joined in his flight 
 by Mr. Hunter and his young wife, to whom he had been mar 
 ried only a month. Nairn and his wife reached the fort in 
 safety, but Hunter, who was lame, walked with great difficulty. 
 Meeting an Indian friend, the latter offered to procure him a 
 
802 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 conveyance if he and his wife would come to a neighboring 
 Indian village. The fugitives accepted his invitation, but failing 
 to procure the vehicle, and fearing to remain, they took to the 
 woods, where they passed the night, In the morning they con 
 tinued their painful journey toward the fort, when they were 
 met by an Indian, who shot Hunter dead, and carried his hor 
 ror-stricken young wife into captivity. Without lingering over 
 the fearful details, it is sufficient to say that the day which 
 began with massacre proceeded with destruction and plunder. 
 The stores, dwellings, and government warehouses were, toward 
 evening, fired, and the blackened stone walls . alone remained to 
 mark the spot of the lower agency. 
 
 The storm broke over the whole country at once. Ten miles 
 above the lower agency, on Red Wood River, resided J. B. 
 Reynolds, a teacher. At half past six in the morning he was 
 aroused by a messenger, urging him to fly for his life. The 
 whole household was at once alarmed. A Mr. Davis, stopping 
 with them, and three girls got into the wagon of a trader, which 
 happened to be passing at that moment. In the direction of the 
 agency they saw a dense cloud of smoke. Convinced now that 
 the town was in flames and that they themselves were in great 
 danger, they only drove the faster. Suddenly they came upon 
 fifty Indians with wagons full of provisions, goods, and furni 
 ture from the village. The savages were all perfectly naked, 
 painted in the most hideous manner, and, worse yet, drunk. 
 Davis and the trader were killed outright. Mary Anderson was 
 also shot. The other two girls were placed in separate wagons, 
 the one containing Mary Schwandt driving toward an Indian 
 village. The captive was brutally treated and subjected to 
 nameless outrages. The other two captive girls, one of them 
 wounded, were brought in during the night. Two days later 
 the wounded girl died. The others remained in captivity until 
 rescued by the United States troops. 
 
 At the same time that the party had left in the trader's 
 wagon, Mr. Reynolds and his wife threw some things into a 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 803 
 
 buggy and drove toward the agency. So quickly did the out 
 break follow the alarm that a dozen squaws were swarming 
 through the house, putting dishes, clothes, and provisions into 
 sacks which they brought with them before Mr. Reynolds and 
 his wife had driven out of the yard. Still ignorant of the 
 trouble, they drove to a hill overlooking the lower agency, 
 where they saw the work of ruin going on. Hurrying on 
 toward the fort, they saw several parties of squaws and Indians, 
 who were at a distance, and found that they were followed. To 
 help on matters, the horse gave out, and the party had to take 
 across the country. Their course lay along the shore of the 
 Minnesota River. Mr. Reynolds swam the river to procure 
 help from the fort. His wife, with two children, whom they 
 had picked up on the way, walked along the sandy shore, " cov 
 ering," as Mrs. Reynolds says, "the children's tracks with my 
 own, and turning my toes in as much like a squaw as possible." 
 Assistance reached the ingenious woman and her husband, and 
 they reached the fort, having lost all the property they had 
 in the world, but nevertheless thankful to have escaped with 
 their lives. 
 
 Little Crow's conspiracy was widely extended. Early on 
 the morning of the 18th of August the settlers on the north 
 side of the Minnesota River were angry and frightened to dis 
 cover large bodies of Indians on that side of the river, engaged 
 in capturing horses. Half an hour later four naked Indians 
 came to the house of Jonathan Earl and demanded his gun. 
 This demand was refused and the savages went away, taking 
 with them several horses. The alarm had spread to other 
 houses, and in a short time twenty-eight of the neighbors 
 assembled at Earl's house. Provisions were hastily gotten to 
 gether, and the company, some of them but half dressed, hur 
 ried away toward Fort Ridgley. 
 
 They had proceeded but a little distance when they were 
 overtaken by Indians, who deliberately unhitched the horses 
 from the wagons, and then began to fire upon the party. Sev- 
 
804 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 eral men were killed, and about ten women and girls taken cap 
 tive. Earl himself, after seeing his wife and two daughters 
 carried off and his son killed, started across the country to 
 escape by running. Little by little he removed all his clothing 
 but his shirt, and finally distanced his pursuers. During the 
 flight he had been fired at thirty times, but was as yet unhurt. 
 After a flight of forty-eight hours, in which the prairie-grass 
 had cut off neariy^all the flesh from his feet, Earl reached Ce 
 dar City. Colonel Sibley's expedition subsequently rescued 
 Mrs. Earl and her daughters, who were captives in the wigwam 
 of Little Crow himself. 
 
 Three of the party to which Earl had belonged were killed 
 by the Indians, by being burnt to death under a blazing mat 
 tress. Mrs. Carruthers was among the captives who, together 
 with Mrs. Earl, were taken to Little Crow's village. In the 
 story of her sufferings, she says that Little Crow's house was a 
 two-story frame one, plastered and furnished with common fur 
 niture, cooking stove, chairs, and table. There were dishes, 
 with knives and forks. All of these things had been furnished 
 by the government. The house was stuffed full with provision 
 and plunder from the government warehouses. 
 
 After a few days of captivity, Mrs. Carruthers and her 
 children managed to escape. They traveled through the country 
 until they reached a farm-house, from which the people had 
 fled. Crawling into the cellar, they remained there two days, 
 living on a few raw potatoes. During this time, the house was 
 frequently visited by Indians. Mrs. Carruthers made her way 
 to the river, where she found a crazy boat, in which she made 
 the attempt to cross. The feat was accomplished, though not 
 without danger. Near her landing-place, she was sickened at 
 the sight of the corpses of no less than six settlers. She strug 
 gled on through the country, carrying a child in either arm, and 
 tortured almost to death by swarms of mosquitoes on her face, 
 from which she was unable to protect herself. She found some 
 little food in nearly every deserted house which she passed. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 805 
 
 By the time she reached the fort, the little clothing which the 
 Indians had left her was almost entirely gone. Although fam 
 ished and in danger, the poor woman, ashamed of her plight, 
 hid herself in some bushes until a man passed that way, from 
 whom she procured a blanket for a covering. 
 
 Two miles above Mr. Earl's house, forty persons, frightened 
 by the unusual occurrences, assembled at the house of John 
 Meyer, soon after sunrise pn the morning of the 18th. While 
 the company was discussing the situation in an agitated manner, 
 fifty Indians were discovered approaching. All but Meyer's 
 family fled from the house, taking to the grass and bushes. 
 Peter Bjorkman passed out at the back door, and plunging into 
 a slough, concealed himself in the mire. He remained here in 
 the morass, with nothing but his head above the water, and 
 concealing that member by some weeds, until dark, when he 
 made his escape. The Indians instantly attacked Meyer's fam 
 ily, butchering the women and children. With a facility which 
 seems peculiar to the men of that region, and speaks poorly for 
 their chivalry, Meyer managed to escape to Fort Ridgley. 
 While the savages occupied themselves 'with plundering the 
 deserted houses, thirty terrified people sought refuge in the 
 dwelling of Mr. Sitzton, near Bjorkman' s. In an hour or two, 
 Bjorkman, who was out in the swamp, witnessed the massacre 
 of nearly the entire company. One woman and her child alone 
 escaped, to be taken into captivity. 
 
 After night, Bjorkman ventured out of his hiding-place, 
 made his way to his' house, bound up a bundle of food and 
 clothing, and commenced his flight toward Fort Ridgley. He 
 passed the houses of Meyer and Sitzton. By the starlight, he 
 could see that the doors and windows were open. Two forms 
 seemed to be lying on the doorstep of the Sitzton house. The 
 man gave a terrified glance toward the place ; he felt, rather 
 than saw, that the structure, a few hours before a happy home, 
 had become a charnel-house, filled with from twenty to thirty 
 corpses. Hurrying past the place of death, he shortly overtook 
 
 45 
 
806 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a woman and two children. It was Mrs. Lateau. Her husband 
 had been killed. Misery loves company. Bjorkman took one 
 of the children in his arms. The wretched people then hurried 
 across the country as fast as possible. The woman was nearly 
 naked. The rough grass of the prairie cut her feet and limbs 
 like so many swords. The man took off his shirt, and Mrs. 
 Lateau, tearing it into strips, bound it about her bleeding feet 
 and limbs. After nameless sufferings, the poor people reached 
 the fort. 
 
 A mile and a half from the Earl house, lived Patrick Hay- 
 den. On the morning of this, the day of doom, he had started 
 across the river to the house of J. B. Reynolds, whose fate has 
 already been mentioned. On his way, Hayden met a man who 
 shouted to him, " For God's sake, get your family and fly. 
 The Indians are going to kill us all." Hayden, alarmed but 
 mystified, hurried back to his house, got his family, and took 
 them off to a neighbor's by the name of Eune. The latter was 
 also making preparations for flight. 
 
 Sending his family on with the Eunes, Hayden, ignorant of 
 the meaning of the fearful panic, started back to his house to 
 protect his property. He was never seen again. Eune's party 
 hurried on. Here and there they found the corpse of some 
 settler who had been overtaken in his flight. From time to time 
 they could see men on horseback, hurrying across the country 
 like themselves. On the following day Mrs. Hayden and the 
 rest reached the fort, only to learn that all their neighbors, less 
 fortunate than they, had been killed before they got away. 
 
 The terror was later in reaching those who lived at points 
 more distant from the fort. Twenty-seven miles from Fort 
 Ridgley, in Eenville county, a Mr. Kreiger had, only a few 
 weeks before, settled on a homestead claim. On the 18th of 
 August he and his cousin were away fishing. At sunset two 
 men came running toward the house, and told Mrs. Kreiger 
 that, six miles below, they had discovered the corpses of a 
 woman and two children. Scattered near the bodies were pieces 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 807 
 
 of broken furniture, and fragments of a feather bed. Horror 
 stricken, they had hurried to a settlement about a mile away, 
 to report what they had seen. 
 
 The first house they entered without knocking, their excite 
 ment over the murder being so great. On the floor of the room 
 the men saw the dead bodies of five people. Almost paralyzed 
 with horror, the men ran on to the next house. A man was 
 lying dead on the doorstep, and the whole place had been plun 
 dered. Still hoping for an explanation of the appalling mys- 
 stery, which grew blacker and more terrible at every step, 
 the men passed on from house to house, in search of some 
 living being. 
 
 Every dwelling was the scene of desolation and death. One 
 woman was found dead with her hands still in the flour, where 
 she had been making bread. Two men had been killed at a 
 grindstone, where they had been sharpening a scythe. Another 
 was lying in his barn, with some hay in his arms, which he had 
 been carrying to his horses when the murderers overtook him. 
 An old lady, seventy years of age, was found weltering in her 
 blood in the chimney-corner, where she was accustomed to sit. 
 She still held in her hands the needles and half-finished sock 
 which she had been knitting. Two boys who had been playing 
 marbles were found lying on the ground, with their heads split 
 open. The marbles still stood in the ring where the little fel 
 lows had been at play. The entire settlement had been given 
 over to butchery. 
 
 Such was the report which the men, hoarse with excitement, 
 and breathless with running, brought to Mrs. Kreiger in her 
 lonely house. While the men ran on to alarm other settlers, 
 Mrs. Kreiger hurried up the creek to where her husband was 
 fishing, and told him what had happened. Within an hour thir 
 teen families were gathered at the house. It was now dark. 
 Suddenly some one remembered that no word had been sent to^ 
 Mr. Schwandt, who lived on a small stream called Sacred Heart, 
 in Renville county. Messengers at once started away on a gal- 
 
808 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 lop to alarm him of his danger. Arriving within sight of the 
 house, they discovered chairs and broken furniture scattered 
 through the yard. John Waltz, a son-in-law of Mr. Schwandt, 
 was lying dead in the door, pierced by three bullets. Mr. 
 Schwandt himself was found on the ground, with a hammer and 
 nails in his hand. He seemed to have been shingling the roof 
 of the house, and, being shot, had rolled off to the ground, 
 dead. Two oxen were in the house, eating flour out of the 
 barrel. The messengers did not, 'at the time, wait to see any 
 more. It was afterward learned that they had seen but a small 
 part of the work of blood. The Indians had attacked the house 
 in the forenoon. After killing Waltz and Schwandt, they had 
 taken the latter's daughter, who was enciente, cut open the body, 
 removed the child, and nailed it to a tree. Mrs. Schwandt had 
 been dragged a few yards, and her head chopped off. Mr. Fross, 
 a farm-hand, was also killed. 
 
 Of the whole family August, a boy of thirteen, alone escaped. 
 After seeing his sister's child nailed to the tree, he was beaten 
 and left for dead. When the Indians went off he revived and 
 started to a house of Mr. Suche, four miles distant. This house 
 was in the midst of a small settlement. Here, instead of find 
 ing help, the boy discovered every house to be tenanted only 
 by the dead. More than thirty corpses lay in the place. The 
 only living being was a child three years old. The boy carried 
 the child three or four miles, but was so exhausted that he left 
 it in a deserted house, and hurried on by himself to Fort Ridg- 
 ley, which he reached at the end of four days. The child was 
 afterward found in the hands of the Indians. It was brought 
 to Fort Ridgley, but shortly died. 
 
 The messengers returned to the party at Kreiger's and re 
 lated what they had seen. The thirteen families with eleven 
 teams at once set out toward the fort and traveled all night. 
 In the morning eight Indians came up with the party and pre 
 tended to be friendly. They said that the murders had been 
 committed by the Ojibwas, and that the Sioux were going to 
 
ALICE THOMPSON'S APPEAL FOR MERCY. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 811 
 
 punish the murderers. They earnestly advised the settlers to 
 return home as the road to the fort was filled with Ojibwas. 
 
 The settlers unfortunately believed the Indians to be friendly 
 and took their advice. This was the first explanation of the 
 mysterious massacre. Nothing seemed to them so improbable 
 as that their neighbors, the Sioux, were the murderers. The 
 teams were turned homeward, accompanied by the Indians, who 
 offered to act as a guard. Suspicious circumstances roused the 
 apprehensions of some of the party, but as the settlers had 
 placed their guns in the wagons they dared not take them out 
 lest the Indians should fire. When nearly to their homes the 
 manner of the Indians suddenly changed. They were re- 
 enforced by other savages, and the whole party demanded that 
 the settlers give up their money. No sooner was this done 
 than the Indians fired upon the party, killing all but three. of 
 the eleven white men. The savages shot the three remaining 
 men, and then, with their clubbed guns commenced beating out 
 the brains of the women and children. Two of Mrs. Kreiger's 
 boys, aged seven and eight years, managed to escape through 
 the prairie grass. On their journey to the fort the little fellows 
 discovered a team driving in the direction they were going. 
 They were about to run out and ask for help, when a party of 
 Indians sprang out toward the wagon and killed all its occupants 
 right before the children's eyes. The little fellows journeyed 
 on, passing many dead, and at last reached the fort. 
 
 When the Indians left the scene of slaughter one of their 
 number, a } r oung brave, took with him a little girl as a captive. 
 His heart may have been kinder than the rest. The child's 
 name was Alice Thompson. Her plea for mercy saved her life. 
 Of the children left on the ground, apparently dead, many were 
 not so. Three girls, the oldest being thirteen years old, hid 
 themselves in the grass until the Indians went off. They then 
 came out from their hiding-place, and found one woman and 
 about ten children yet living. The oldest girl, Mrs. Kreiger's 
 daughter, being thirteen years old, developed remarkable nerve 
 
812 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 and self-possession. She succeeded in removing these children 
 and the woman to her house, a mile away, and there ministered 
 to the wants of the wounded as best she could. 
 
 The night was passed amid crying and moaning from all the 
 occupants of the house. In the morning the girl of thirteen 
 years decided that it was unsafe to remain, and taking such of 
 the little company as were able to walk, took to the woods.. 
 The girl at once returned to the scene of the massacre to hunt 
 for her mother, but was frightened away by the sight of Indians. 
 A little later she saw the house which, she with her five com 
 panions, of whom the woman, Mrs. Zable, was one, had recently 
 left, surrounded by Indians and in flames. The seven little chil 
 dren which had been left there were burned alive in the house. 
 The little party of fugitives hid in the woods until dark, and 
 then started toward Fort Ridgley. They obtained some food 
 on the way in the deserted houses which they passed. It 
 consisted almost wholly of corn eaten raw. The oldest girl, 
 with remarkable tenacity, had insisted on carrying her baby 
 brother. At the end of three days her strength was so ex 
 hausted that the little fellow had to be left behind. His fate 
 was never known. 
 
 The party journeyed on for eleven days. One of the chil 
 dren fell down from exhaustion and hunger. The others refused 
 to leave her. Some one found the rind of a watermelon, which 
 was given to the child. She revived, and, by the help of the 
 others, proceeded until they came within sight of Fort Ridgley. 
 The children were terribly frightened at the sight of the fort, 
 thinking it to be an Indian camp. When some soldiers ap 
 proached they turned to fly, but the poor little flutterers were 
 soon caught. When they arrived at the fort, the children pre 
 sented a pitiable sight. Some were wounded by hatchet cuts ; 
 others had been beaten by the butts of guns ; others, still bore 
 bleeding gunshot wounds. Their little bodies were almost desti 
 tute of clothing, and were cut and bleeding from head to foot 
 from the prairie grass through which they had passed. 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 813 
 
 Returning once more in our story to the scene of the attack 
 on the wagon party, Mrs. Kreiger remained on the ground almost 
 unconscious until midnight of Tuesday, August 19th. At that 
 time two Indians came up, and she felt a sharp pointed knife 
 passed swiftly from her throat downward, laying open her in 
 testines. Her clothing was then removed, and she was seized 
 by the hair and dragged some distance. Still conscious, she saw 
 the savages mutilating the dead bodies of her friends in a man 
 ner too horrible to be reproduced on this page. Finally, Mrs. 
 Kreiger succeeded in crawling from the scene of the massacre 
 to a creek. Refreshed by the water, she managed to drag her 
 self two or three miles further. Unable to proceed, she remained 
 on the ground for three days, drinking water from a slough and 
 eating grass. Again she recovered sufficient strength to crawl. 
 Not infrequently she passed corpses of the settlers, and was 
 frightened, in a dull weary way, by the sight of Indians. 
 
 Space forbids the details of her terrible journey. She had 
 given up all hope of life, when a party of troops sent out to 
 bury the murdered settlers passed her way, and put her into a 
 wagon. Two hours later the troops were attacked by Indians, 
 and the poor woman again trembled between life and death. 
 All of the wagons were turned upside down as a rude barricade, 
 except the one in which she lay. The battle raged all day and 
 all night. The wagon in which was Mrs. Kreiger was the best 
 mark afforded the savages. The wagon was literally shot to 
 pieces. The cover was riddled with bullets, and the spokes 
 were shot out of the wheels. The cup in which she attempted 
 to take her medicine was dashed from her mouth by a rifle-ball. 
 She received five wounds during the battle. 
 
 On the following morning re-enforcements arrived. The In 
 dians were driven off by shells, or " rotten cannon-balls" as they 
 called them. The battle being ended, the soldiers went up to 
 the wagon, and were perfectly astounded to find Mrs. Kreiger 
 yet alive. The wagon itself was a mass of splinters, and by 
 actual count the blanket which covered the poor woman con- 
 
814 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 tained over two hundred bullet holes. This statement was 
 sworn to by Mrs. Kreiger before the United States commission 
 ers. When she reached the fort she was gladdened to find that 
 six of her eight children, inheriting their mother's pluck, had 
 managed to escape. 
 
 Three months before the massacre, John Boelter and his 
 wife Justina, with their little family, settled on a homestead 
 claim on Beaver Creek, in Renville county. They went to make 
 a home from the ground up. While the husband and hired 
 hands felled the trees with ringing ax, and built the rude cabin, 
 the brave young wife prepared the meals over a camp-fire. 
 When the house was done, and the little family ensconced in 
 their new home, their simple hearts were thrilled with joy and 
 thankfulness. 
 
 The morning of the 18th of August, 1862, found the family 
 situated in a comfortable log cabin. The yard was surrounded 
 by a fence and filled with a garden, both of vegetables and 
 flowers. The family were at breakfast. The delightful morn 
 ing air which belongs to Minnesota even in the hottest months, 
 poured in through the open door and windows. The sun was 
 just high enough to have driven away the chilliness left by the 
 shadows of the night. Suddenly the little family at the break 
 fast table were startled by the entrance of a squaw 7 with an ax 
 in her hand. She looked around hurriedly, and ran back to the 
 road, rejoining some other squaws. Surprised at the circum 
 stance, Mrs. Boelter stepped to the door to watch their move 
 ments, and was alarmed to hear a succession of shots in the 
 direction of Mr. Reef's house. Informing her husband of the 
 fact, he at once went out to look after his cattle, which he sus 
 pected were in danger. As soon as he was gone, three squaws 
 and four Indians entered the house, remained a few moments, 
 and left. A moment later Mrs. Boelter's brother-in-law came 
 running in, and exclaimed, " The report is that the Indians are 
 killing the whites." He then ran on to a field where his father 
 had been at work, to warn him, but, failing to find him, started 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 817 
 
 back. It was afterward ascertained that the old man had already 
 been killed. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Boelter, in her fright, took a pan of bread 
 from the stove, and, carefully wrapping the pan up in a cloth, 
 laid it away in the cupboard, and placing the loaves of bread in 
 the dish-pan proceeded to wash them. Without observing her 
 blunder she hung the bread up on a nail and seizing her three 
 children, started down the road. She shortly met her brother- 
 in-law, and begged him to go call her husband. At that moment 
 a scream reached their ears. Looking toward Reef's house, 
 they discovered Indians in the act of killing Mrs. Reef and her 
 children, who were out in the yard. The piercing screams con 
 tinued for a moment and then all was still. Her brother-in-law 
 snatched up the baby, and started off on a run. Such was his 
 haste that Mrs. Boelter and her two children were unable to 
 keep up, and soon lost sight of him. At this point in her story 
 Mrs. Boelter makes the following touching note : " I never saw 
 nor heard of my husband after he left on the morning of the 
 18th of August to look after the cattle." 
 
 The mother and her two children sought refuge in the woods. 
 For several days they lingered in the locality, subsisting on 
 some raw potatoes, which she found in the cellar of a house 
 which had been plundered. On Friday Mrs. Boelter ventured 
 to the house of her brother-in-law. She was shocked to dis 
 cover his mother lying on the floor, her head severed from her 
 body, the house plundered, an^the furniture and bedding strewn 
 around the yard in wild confusion. In one corner of the yard 
 lay the corpses of five children. Without losing her presence 
 of mind, Mrs. Boelter ran into the garden, hastily dug up some 
 potatoes with her fingers, gathered some cucumbers, and hurried 
 back to her children in the woods. 
 
 The unhappy woman remained in the wilderness week after 
 week completely bewildered. Heavy rains set in, and in the 
 fifth week the eldest child died from exposure and starvation. 
 Cold, wet, and starving, the mother sat in the rain, watching 
 
818 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the body of her dead child for four days. She and the living 
 child subsisted on grape leaves. The corpse now became offen 
 sive and was covered with multitudes of flies. The mother 
 attempted to remove but found herself too weak to crawl a foot. 
 After many trials she succeeded in crawling away about fifty 
 yards. At this time a heavy frost came and killed the grape 
 leaves. The mother, somewhat stronger, crawled through the 
 woods to find some sheltered vine, which the frost had not 
 reached. In this she succeeded and gathered some leaves ; but 
 having left her child behind, and her intellect being affected, 
 she could not find it. Though the light of reason flickered 
 feebly in its socket, the instinct of motherhood remained strong. 
 After groping around for a day and a half, the wretched woman 
 was overjoyed to find her child. 
 
 Further subsistence upon foliage being impossible, the mother 
 again attempted to crawl to the garden of her brother-in-law's 
 house. She was six hours in traversing the quarter of a mile. 
 She found a few potatoes and a small pumpkin. Unable to 
 carry both at once, she carried the pumpkin some distance and 
 then returned for the potatoes. By alternate stages she finally 
 reached the spot where she had left her child. The trip to the 
 garden, one quarter of a mile away, had taken a day and a half. 
 
 A new horror awaited her return. Multitudes of snakes, 
 large and small, had surrounded and covered her child. When 
 she herself came up they crawled over her and covered her. 
 She says in her story, " I found hat they did me no harm, and 
 they soon ceased to be an annoyance ; indeed, their company 
 became agreeable in my lonely condition after I became accus 
 tomed to their presence." 
 
 Mrs. Boelter remained where she was another week. It 
 was now the middle of October. The cold became severe. Giv 
 ing up all hope of being rescued, a dull purpose came into her 
 head to return to her own home. By alternately pushing and 
 dragging her child, she made her way back with infinite trouble 
 to the desolated abode. Shortly afterward a relief party of 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 819 
 
 soldiers pushed open the door of the house, and discovered 
 lying on some rags in the corner what seemed to be a skeleton 
 covered with a yellow parchment. On the breast of this form 
 lay another, much smaller and possessing rather more flesh. The 
 soldiers went up gently to the rude pallet, and found that the 
 two emaciated forms were human beings, almost but not quite 
 dead. The woman raised her eyes, and something like a whis 
 per came from her mouth. A weak broth was hastily prepared. 
 After being nursed for two days the mother and her child gained 
 sufficient strength to be taken to the camp of the soldiers. This 
 was on October 27th, just eight weeks after the massacre. Mrs. 
 Boelter was subsequently removed to Fort Ridgley, and in some 
 degree recovered her health and strength. 
 
 During all of the fatal 18th of August the people at the Upper 
 Agency were completely ignorant of any thing unusual going 
 on. Just at sunset the inhabitants were surprised to see a 
 large body of Indians gathered on a hill west of the settlement. 
 In a little while John Otherday, a farmer Indian, came in with 
 news of the terrible massacre which had been raging thirty miles 
 away. The people of the settlement were hastily gathered into 
 the government warehouse, and resolved to defend themselves 
 to the last extremity. Sixty-two men, women, and children 
 remained awake and distressed through the night. 
 
 About two o'clock in the morning, a trader named Garvie 
 knocked for admittance. He had been guarding his store and 
 was shot in the bowels, but managed to escape through his gar 
 den to the warehouse. Two men, Kennedy and Boardman, were 
 asleep in another store. A man ran and told them to run for 
 their lives. One took to the warehouse, the other started to 
 Fort Ridgley. In a short time the Indians had killed or driven 
 off all the storekeepers of the place, and instantly began the 
 work of plunder. Peter Patoile was shot through the breast, 
 and left for dead. He crawled to some bushes on the river bank, 
 and remained there all the following day. At nightfall he 
 dragged himself to the shores of the Minnesota River, and 
 
820 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 forded the stream. Finding a deserted settler's house, he passed 
 the night there, but in the morning, discovering Indians about, 
 seized a blanket and hid in a neighboring ravine. He wan 
 dered about through an uninhabited country, and finally struck 
 a settlement far up the Sauk Valley, where his wound was 
 dressed for the first time. 
 
 At the warehouse at Yellow Medicine, John Otherday, the 
 faithful Indian, remained on watch all night. The shouts of the 
 Indians could be heard in .the darkness as they proceeded in 
 their work of plunder and destruction at the trading post, half a 
 mile away. It was evident that to remain where they were 
 meant certain death. The seriousness of the situation was 
 appalling. Slender as were the chances of escape, the resolve 
 was taken to attempt it. Teams were hastily harnessed to such 
 wagons as could be had, and into them climbed the women and 
 children. A small supply of provisions was thrown together, 
 &nd just at dawn the terrified procession, of which the male 
 members were on foot, crossed the Minnesota River, and, guided 
 by John Otherday, struck across the prairie in the direction of 
 the settlements of the Kandiyohi Lakes. A hard storm over 
 took the party, during which poor Garvie died. 
 
 By the unflinching devotion of John Otherday, a pure full- 
 blooded Indian, who only three years before had been of the 
 wildest of the savages, the lives of sixty-two persons were 
 rescued from the massacre. Yielding to his advice to not attempt 
 flight in the direction of Fort Ridgley, where they would be cer 
 tainly destroyed, the party placed their lives in his hands, and 
 struck into a trackless wilderness, with which he alone was 
 acquainted. On Friday, the 22d, he guided them safely into 
 Shakopee, Scott county. 
 
 The settlers around Yellow Medicine heard the news of the 
 massacre during Monday night. They met with various for 
 tunes. One party started in the direction of Fort Ridgley, and 
 found the place surrounded with savages. Andrew Hunter 
 managed to crawl through the underbrush and make his way 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 821 
 
 into the fort. The garrison told him that it was certain death 
 for his company of more than forty people to attempt to make 
 their way through the lines of the Indians into the fort. He 
 returned to his companions with the sad news that they must 
 look elsewhere for safety. Heart-sick, the fugitives resumed 
 their weary march. All around the horizon they could see the 
 red light from burning dwellings. 
 
 Four Germans who had joined their party left them on the 
 following morning, going in the direction of New Ulm. They 
 had scarcely proceeded a mile before the main body heard a 
 volley of shots. Later it was ascertained that the men had been 
 killed. The party pressed on in the direction of Henderson. 
 As they journeyed, the sounds of the conflict at New Ulm were 
 borne faintly to their ears upon the breeze. They eventually 
 reached their destination. Three miles below Yellow Medicine 
 lived Leopold Wohler. Joining a party of eighteen persons, on 
 their way to Fort Ridgley, he traveled till overtaken by Indians 
 at Beaver Creek. The whole company was captured, with a 
 single exception. Blair was released on account of his wife's 
 mixed blood. After five days Blair reached the fort, and was 
 at once arrested and imprisoned as a spy. He protested with 
 out effect. He was a man of delicate health, and quickly suc 
 cumbed to his misfortunes, to find quiet in the grave. 
 
 Leavenworth was the name of a settlement on Cottonwood 
 River, in Brown county. The alarm reached here on the after 
 noon of Monday, the 18th. One party of six, on their way to 
 New Ulm, were attacked and killed. Near this settlement lived 
 a Mr. Covill. At four o'clock in the afternoon he hurried from 
 a field, where he had been stacking grain, to his house, and told 
 his wife to get ready for flight, while he roused the neighbors 
 and got a team. Mrs. Covill packed a trunk with clothing, and 
 hid it and herself in the grass, as she was afraid to stay in the 
 house. The party was quickly .made up. One of its members 
 was a poor woman from Tennessee. Her child had died that 
 day, and the mother carried the corpse in her arms. The party 
 
822 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCE*. 
 
 passed the night at the house of a Mr. Van Guilder. Nearly 
 all of the people had already gone to New Ulm. 
 
 In the morning the party started out again, but, discovering 
 some Indians, they hurried back to the house amid a shower 
 of balls. One old lady had her arm broken by a bullet. The 
 horses were left unhitched in the haste to get to the house, and 
 they ran away. The Indians followed the team, and the party, 
 now consisting of fifteen people, started once more. Their only 
 conveyance was an ox-team. The Tennessee mother sadly left 
 the body of her child behind. This party remained in the 
 woods till Friday, subsisting on raw flour. One of the number 
 died. On the day named a rescuing party from New Ulm 
 reached them. 
 
 In the same locality with these people lived Elijah Whiton. 
 ^On Monday evening a settler stopped and told him that the 
 Indians had murdered a family on the Minnesota River. The 
 Whitons paid no particular attention to the news, and, isolated 
 by the flight of the people from that region, a fact of which 
 they were ignorant, heard nothing further until Thursday after 
 noon. About four o'clock Mr. Whiton, at work in his field, saw 
 a neighbor running down the road, pursued by Indians. The 
 man's family had been murdered, but he himself escaped. 
 Whiton ran to his house, and told his wife and two children to 
 go to New Ulm through the woods, while he went to warn his 
 brother Luther. 
 
 Mr. Whiton was never seen alive by his family again. His 
 wife and children had proceeded but a little way when they 
 saw a band of Indians surround the house, load the wagon with 
 every thing valuable, hitch up the horses, and drive off. As the 
 woman and her children fled through the night, they were ter 
 ror-stricken to find in the road six corpses, being the entire 
 family of their neighbor Blum. They succeeded in reaching 
 New Ulm on Friday evening. Mr. Whiton, after hunting for 
 his brother, returned to his home only to find it already plun 
 dered. Falling in with a man named Daly, who had escaped 
 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 823 
 
 from Lake Shetek, they traveled together till they came to a 
 deserted farm-house. The men had had nothing to eat for forty- 
 eight hours. They entered and found the table spread for a 
 meal. It had been standing nearly two days, the family hav 
 ing left without touching it. While eating, two Indians entered 
 the house unobserved and shot Whiton dead. His companion 
 escaped. 
 
 The extent of the massacre is shown by the fact that at 
 Big Stone Lake, in the county of that name, one hundred and 
 fifty miles from New Ulm, the outbreak was almost simultane 
 ous with that at the places heretofore named. All the people of 
 the settlement were massacred except a half-breed named Gu- 
 beau and Anton Manderfeld, who escaped. Gubeau was bound 
 with raw hide, but he was cool and thoroughly acquainted with 
 the Indian character. He was seated on the ground and a ring 
 of yelling savages danced about him. Watching his opportu 
 nity, he collected all his strength, and with a single leap, bound 
 though he was with his hands behind his back, sprang over the 
 heads of the dancers, and sped over the prairie with the fleet- 
 ness of a deer. He headed straight for the lake. His pursuers 
 followed close, firing at him incessantly ; but he seemed to bear 
 a charmed life. 
 
 Reaching the marsh at the border of the lake, with its tall 
 growth of grass and weeds, Gubeau plunged in and had buried 
 himself in the water up to his chin. The water soon rendered the 
 rawhide soft and slippery, so that he could release his hands. 
 Coming out of his hiding-place, he traveled for days till he 
 reached St. Cloud. Completely worn out, he thought he had 
 reached a place of safety. Not so. The people of the place, 
 lashed into the wildest excitement by the appalling massacre, 
 of which reports had reached them, instantly detected the pres 
 ence of Indian blood in the veins of poor Gubeau, arrested him 
 as a spy, and prepared to hang him. All his protestations were 
 in vain. Just as he was about to be executed, a gentleman 
 pressed his way through the crowd, recognized and rescued him. 
 
824 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 A mile from the store on Big Stone Lake Anton Manderfeld 
 was at work. A man came by on Thursday and told him that 
 there was not a white man left alive on the whole reservation. 
 Just at that moment a hundred Indians carne toward the camp. 
 Two of the men were fired upon and killed, but Manderfeld and 
 his cousin took to the prairie and hid in the grass. A little later 
 the cousin insisted on going down to the lake shore. Mander 
 feld shortly heard three shots. His cousin was dead. It now 
 remained for Manderfeld to escape if possible. He traveled 
 through the country, directing his course toward the Minne 
 sota River. 
 
 About nine o'clock one evening he came upon a farm-house. 
 No light shone from the window. Overcome with hunger, he 
 went toward the door, which was open. He was met by a 
 terrible stench. He retraced his steps for a short distance, 
 and again resolved to hunt for some food. Stepping into the 
 door, he stumbled over something in the dark. He stooped 
 down and felt the object. His 'hand came in contact with some 
 cold and sticky substance. Holding his hand in the moonlight 
 he observed that it was bloody. Another look at the object 
 disclosed that^ it was the body of an elderly man. Manderfeld 
 shuddered. The stench was intolerable. He passed on into the 
 next room. The moonlight, which came in through the open 
 window, revealed the white face of a woman with staring eye 
 balls lying on the floor. A great gash had almost severed the 
 head from the body. 
 
 Thrilled with horror, Manderfeld turned his face away. 
 There he beheld three other forms. They were those of the 
 children. The heads had been beaten off; only the trunks 
 remained. Afterward it was known that the savages had at 
 tacked the place in the evening a day or two before. All the 
 household had been slain. The man fled from the house, pre 
 ferring not to take anything to eat. As he ran, some cattle and 
 dogs and hogs, which were still alive on the place, but almost 
 famished, delighted to see a human being, took after him, mak- 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 827 
 
 ing a great noise. Manderfeld was frightened. The barking 
 of the dogs, the lowing of the cattle, their jingling bells, 
 and the squealing of the hogs, had a strange, unearthly sound, 
 The man ran on and on, but the dumb brutes only followed 
 faster. A troop of hobgoblins could not have frightened Man 
 derfeld more. 
 
 Shattered by exposure and hunger, not yet recovered from 
 the awful scene which he had just witnessed in that lonely 
 farm-house in the dead hours of night, the poor man was almost 
 crazy. The noise was certain to attract the attention of any 
 savages within the range of several miles. He stopped and 
 shouted at the animals. He waved his hands at them. He 
 gathered clubs and stones to beat them off. All was useless. 
 The creatures, as if aware of the terrible things which had hap 
 pened, were resolved not to be left alone. Not till he crossed 
 a river did he shake off the pursuit, and even then the watch 
 dog stood upon the bank and howled mournful reproaches after 
 him. Manderfeld at last succeeded in reaching Fort Bidgley. 
 
 Lake Shetek is in Murray county, Minnesota, seventy miles 
 west of New Ului. Here a dozen families had located, far in 
 advance of the line of regular settlements. About five o'clock 
 on Wednesday morning, August 20, 1862, Mrs. Hurd was 
 milking her cows. Her children were in the house asleep. At 
 that moment twenty Indians rode up and dismounted. A man 
 named Voight came to the door with the youngest child in his 
 arms just in time to receive a bullet, which passed through the 
 body of the child and fatally wounded the man. The Indians 
 commenced an indiscriminate destruction of every thing in the 
 house. Mr. Hurd, it should have been said, was away from 
 home. The Indians told Mrs. Hurd that she might take her 
 two children, the oldest a boy of four years and go wherever 
 she pleased. Running on through the prairie, she heard the 
 crack of guns behind her and knew that death had overtaken 
 her neighbors. 
 
 The journey before her was one of seventy miles through 
 
 46 
 
828 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 an uninhabited country. The unhappy woman lost her way, 
 and at the end of two days found herself only four miles from 
 her home. Nevertheless she pushed on as well as she could. 
 Unable to carry both of her children at the same time, she 
 would take one for half a mile, lay it down in the grass, and go 
 back for the other. In this way she traveled twelve miles to 
 the nearest house. She was heart-broken to find the place 
 deserted ; but a few raw onions and a spoiled ham afforded some 
 relief. Before long, Mrs. Kurd fell in with some of her neigh 
 bors, and eventually reached New Ulm, where they found tem 
 porary relief. On her way Mrs. Kurd had learned that her 
 husband had been killed. 
 
 The Indians passed from Kurd's house to those of the 
 neighbors. The latter catching the alarm, gathered in Mr. 
 Wright's house. The mud was knocked out from between the 
 logs. The *women were put up-stairs, while the men prepared 
 below to fight. Shortly the Indians came in sight. The peo 
 ple, unused to savage warfare, were panic-stricken, and seizing 
 their horses, took to flight. Several of the party were wounded. 
 The Indians quickly overtook and surrounded them. From 
 time to -time the savages fired, killing the men. Mrs. Eastlick 
 and the other women and children were taken captives. In a 
 few moments the first named woman was shot and left for dead. 
 When the Indians left she crawled back to the scene of the 
 murder, and found the bodies of her friends. She wandered 
 around several days, and finally fell in with the same party 
 which Mrs. Hurd had met. The sufferings of the whole party 
 were fearful. On their way they parsed the house of Mr. 
 Brown, in which the whole family had been killed. Mrs. East- 
 lick reached New Ulm with the rest of the party. 
 
 We have been tracing the flight of various fugitives to New 
 Ulm. This place was on the Minnesota River, thirty miles from 
 the Lower Agency. On the morning of the 18th of August a 
 party of volunteers set out from this place to join the Union 
 army at the call of President Lincoln.^ They had traveled 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 829 
 
 about eight miles, marching to the grand, wild music of war, 
 full of anxious thoughts for tfiose left behind. Suddenly the 
 column halted. The men discovered a number of dead bodies 
 lying in the road, and were, at the same moment, fired upon 
 by Indians. They also heard shots in various directions, and 
 saw people running across the prairie. The volunteers turned 
 back to New Ulm, destined to take part in a war somewhat 
 nearer home than they had anticipated. The people from the 
 surrounding country soon began to pour into the place, bring 
 ing vague and terrible reports of an awful massacre which was 
 taking place up the valley. 
 
 The people were wild with panic. x For many years there 
 had been no trouble with the Indians in that part of the coun 
 try. The great part of the settlers had no weapons, and for 
 Indian fighting they were utterly unprepared. At night, the 
 throngs of wretched fugitives, which packed the houses and 
 streets of New Ulm or poured through the place, seeking refuge 
 at points lower down the river, could see the sky lit up by hun 
 dreds of burning farm-houses, barns, and hay-stacks. Within 
 a day or two companies of volunteer troops began to arrive at 
 New Ulm from adjoining places, until there were about five 
 hundred to defend the town. 
 
 A large force of Indians surrounded the place, which had 
 been supplied with hasty barricades. On Saturday morning a 
 long column of Indians were seen in full career across the 
 prairie, headed for the place. When tolerably near, the column 
 was seen to open like a fan into a line long enough to surround 
 the entire village. A desperate battle was fought. The Indians 
 broke over the barricades, and the place was defended from the 
 houses. The enemy, capturing the lower part of the town, 
 fired the buildings, and the roar and smoke of the flames added 
 horror to the battle. At night the savages withdrew, having 
 burned more than two hundred houses and filled the town with 
 the wounded, dead, and dying. This was the place which hun 
 dreds of fugitives had traveled great distances and undergone 
 
830 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 infinite hardships to reach as one of refuge. On Monday morn 
 ing it was decided to abandon the place into which two thou 
 sand people were huddled together like cattle. One hundred 
 and fifty-three wagon loads of wounded, sick, and helpless filed 
 down the road on the retreat to St. Peter. 
 
 Fort Ridgley was, as we have seen, the point toward which 
 great numbers of the people directed their flight. The first 
 news of the massacre reached there about nine o'clock on the 
 morning of the bloody Monday. There were then in the fort 
 about eighty soldiers. One-half of the number at once started 
 for the Lower Agency. The little company reached the ferry 
 at the latter place, and were attacked by five hundred Indians. 
 More than half their number were killed here. Thirteen of 
 the men escaped by swimming the river, and a few more 
 reached the fort at night. 
 
 Fort Ridgley was situated on the edge of a prairie, with two 
 wooded ravines on either side of it, and timber land on a 
 third side. On the afternoon of Wednesday the Indians con 
 centrated their forces upon the fort. From the cover of the 
 ravines they poured in a terrific fire. Although the place was 
 called a fort, it was really a cluster of barracks, stores, and 
 barns around a parade ground. The magazine, strange to say, 
 was located out in the prairie, twenty rods from the main 
 fort, in which was very little ammunition. The first task of 
 the garrison was to carry in ammunition from the magazine. 
 The men ran back and forth in the midst of a heavy fire. It 
 was perilous work. Three howitzers were used with great 
 effect in shelling the woods. The Indians never left their 
 cover, and towards night withdrew. On the following day, the 
 men were busily employed in erecting temporary barricades 
 with sacks of oats and piles of cord wood. The wooden roofs 
 of the buildings were covered with earth as a protection 
 against fire. 
 
 On Friday the Indians again appeared in great force. They 
 secured possession of some out-buildings, and set them on 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 831 
 
 fire, aiming to leave one side of the place exposed. In the 
 struggle which ensued at this point, the soldiers captured a 
 wounded Indian, and, in their rage, flung him headlong into the 
 burning building, where he perished. The Indians did not 
 withdraw from the fort until it received re-enforcements on 
 August 27th. 
 
 Within a day or two the news of the great massacre spread 
 through Minnesota, and volunteer companies of citizens were 
 organized at different points in the State and hurried to the 
 scene of hostilities. Some of these companies met with thrill 
 ing experiences. They found the counties bordering on the 
 reservation completely depopulated. In many of the settle 
 ments the entire body of inhabitants had been massacred. 
 Here and there, in exceptional cases, small bodies of deter 
 mined men had barricaded themselves for a desperate resist^ 
 ance. All through the month of September mounted compa 
 nies ranged the country in search of helpless fugitives, and 
 intent on relieving such of the people as still held out. 
 
 While the troops under Colonel Sibley were hurrying to the 
 front with the real military strength which was to crush the 
 great revolt, let us glance for a moment at the condition of the 
 country. It is to be -remembered that eighteen counties, popu 
 lated by forty thousand people, were laid desolate. In all this 
 vast extent of country not a village, not a settlement, had 
 escaped the red hand of the murderer. The blow had fallen 
 simultaneously and without a single note of warning to the vic 
 tims. Such as had escaped from the first work of death, fled like 
 deer across the country. A stream of fugitives, composed of 
 thirty thousand wretched, homeless people poured down the 
 Minnesota valley. This tide of helpless humanity, on foot, on 
 horse, and in wagons, rolled on and on, spreading panic in their 
 course, until they reached the Mississippi River, and great num 
 bers of them fled from the state, leaving all their property, and 
 never returned. 
 
 In our story we have related briefly the experiences of a 
 
832 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 few of the unhappy people, selected at random, here and there, 
 from this awful procession of refugees. They are but meager 
 and insufficient examples of the sufferings of thousands upon 
 thousands of persons. The whole country, thus depopulated, 
 was given over to the fire and sword. 
 
 A glimpse at the town of St. Peter, as it appeared on the 
 morning of Wednesday, August 20, 1862, gives some idea of the 
 distress of the flying people. The natural population of the town 
 was about one thousand. It was a quiet western village, in which 
 the chime of the church bells, the rumbling of the flour-mill, 
 and the musical strokes of the blacksmith on his anvil were the 
 only disturbing sounds. On sunny Saturdays a score of farm 
 wagons would be seen in the streets, but a greater assemblage 
 was, indeed, rare. 
 
 On Monday evening rumors of the massacre had reached the 
 place, and the startled citizens were in the streets, discussing 
 the situation. By midnight the tide of fugitives began to surge 
 into the place. Hour after hour passed, and the stream of 
 arrivals thickened constantly. All day Tuesday and Tuesday 
 night the procession of unfortunates rushed and crowded pell- 
 mell into the place. By Wednesday morning the population 
 had increased to many thousands. " Every private house, every 
 public house, every church, school-house, warehouse, shed, or 
 saloon, and every vacant structure, was full. The crowd 
 thronged the public highways ; a line of cooking-stoves smoked 
 along the streets, and vacant lots were packed with people, for 
 there was no longer room in the houses. All was clatter, rattle, 
 and din. Wagons, ponies, mules, oxen, cows, and calves were 
 promiscuously distributed among the multitude of haggard men, 
 forlorn women, and weeping children. 
 
 " The live stock from thousands of deserted farms surrounded 
 the outskirts of the town. The lowing of strange cattle, the 
 neighing of restless horses, the crying of lost and hungry chil 
 dren, the tales of horror, the tomahawk wounds undressed, the 
 bleeding feet, the cries for food, and the loud wailing for miss- 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 833 
 
 ing friends all combined to burn into the soul the dreadful 
 reality that some terrible calamity was upon the country." 
 
 Persons who were in the place at the time, say that every 
 hour or two some wild rumor of the approach of Indians, 
 occasioned by the arrival of a new wagon load of wounded and 
 dying people, would sweep through the multitude and drive 
 them wild with panic. Every breeze seemed to bear the echo 
 of war whoops, faint with distance. When, on Friday, Colonel 
 Sibley with fifteen hundred men marched through the place, the 
 joy of the people was thrilling. The vast multitude joined in a 
 mighty shout. The soldiers passed on. 
 
 The danger of massacre abated, only to be succeeded by the 
 horrors of starvation. Seven thousand people besides the citi 
 zens of the place were already packed into the village, and the 
 train of two thousand unfortunates from New Ulm was already 
 on the way to enlarge the multitude. The citizens worked day 
 and night, animated by heroic and lofty impulses. A bakery 
 was established, turning out two thousand loaves of bread per 
 day ; yet so inadequate was this for the throng of nine thou 
 sand people, that every cooking stove in the place was red hot 
 day and night, for the purposes of baking. A soup house was 
 established, where twelve hundred people could be fed daily. 
 Of meat there was less scarcity, as the live stock of the fugi 
 tives afforded a fair supply. But the task of feeding the living 
 did not stop with the human beings. Vast and unruly herds of 
 horses and cattle, furious from fright and crazy with hunger, 
 charged back and forth through the town, breaking down and ' 
 leaping fences, devouring every green thing, until the place and 
 the country surrounding it was as barren as a desert. 
 
 This view of St. Peter is true also for numbers of other 
 places, on which the army of refugees advanced with crushing 
 weight. Meanwhile the expedition under Colonel Sibley gradu 
 ally drove the Indians from the country. Many severe battles 
 were fought. Throngs of whites were rescued. Large numbers 
 of captives were taken. Of these- more than three hundred 
 
834 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 were condemned to death. Little Crow, and the remainder of 
 the Sioux fled to the mountain fastnesses of the west, far 
 beyond the boundaries of Minnesota. Winter found the war 
 still in progress. On the 24th of December, thirty-eight 
 Indians, the remainder of the three hundred having had their 
 sentences commuted, were led to the gallows. As they marched 
 out, the rattling of their chains, which at first alone broke the 
 solemn silence, was drowned in the wild and plaintive music of 
 their death songs. Even after the white caps were drawn over 
 their faces, the song still continued, though muffled and broken. 
 Some one who understood the language said that their singing 
 and shouting was only to sustain each other. Each one shouted 
 his own name and called on the name of his friend, saying in 
 substance, " I 'm here ! I 'm here !" 
 
 The war continued during a portion of the year 1863. On 
 the evening of July 3d of that year, while the thunder of can 
 non at the battle of Gettysburg was shaking the whole earth, 
 and while ranks of the brave and true were falling on all sides, 
 in this, the greatest conflict of the civil war, a gentleman trav 
 eling along a road six miles north of Hutchinson, Minnesota, 
 heard a rustle in the bushes near by. Quick as thought he 
 threw his gun to his shoulder and fired. A savage dropped 
 dead. In his hands were found some wild berries, which he 
 had been gathering and eating. Some settlers hurried to the 
 spot, and one of them recognized the dead Indian. It was none 
 other than Little Crow himself. His young son was caught not 
 far off. 
 
 Thus at an unexpected moment the arch-conspirator of the 
 Sioux was overtaken by a punishment which he had long de 
 served. The Sioux themselves were deprived of their lovely 
 home along the Minnesota River, and were given a reservation 
 in south-western Dakota. In this territory lie the famous Black 
 Hills. They were destined, however, to involve the United States 
 in many a subsequent Indian war. 
 
 The great Sioux massacre, of which the story has been 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF MINNESOTA. 835 
 
 briefly and inadequately told, stands completely without a par 
 allel in all the bloody history of the conflicts between the red 
 and white men on the American continent. In its suddenness 
 and extent, in its monstrous atrocity, and its Satanic perfection 
 of details, it must take rank with the greatest massacres of all 
 time. Occurring as it did at a period when the people had no 
 more apprehension of an Indian war than do the inhabitants of 
 any farming region of the middle states, it found its victims 
 utterly unprepared for resistance or defense. There are no 
 means of accurately knowing the number of persons who were 
 slain on the terrible 1 8th of August and the succeeding days. 
 If the estimates of the best authorities are to be received the 
 number ranged between one and two thousand people who were 
 massacred in cold blood. Besides the actual bloodshed, the 
 massacre resulted, as we have seen, in the total depopulation 
 of a territory larger than the state of Vermont. 
 
 Strange to say, when the tragedy was enacted it attracted 
 but little attention from the people of the United States. 
 Such reports as found their way into the newspapers were ab 
 solutely unread. The great civil war, which was then at its 
 height, so preoccupied the minds of men that the bloody event, 
 which at other times would have thrilled the country with hor 
 ror, passed unnoticed. When every newspaper and "extra" 
 brought reports of battles in which a hundred thousand men 
 were engaged on either side, and the number of the killed and 
 wounded amounted to almost one third of the combatants, the 
 lesser tragedy was lost sight of in the presence of the greater. 
 Now that the smoke has cleared away from the battle-fields of 
 the war between the States, we may form a juster estimate of 
 the appalling dimensions of the Tragedy of Minnesota. 
 
836 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 
 
 IREAT are the United States of America ! Infi 
 nitely diversified are the problems which con 
 front us. Turn back to Harper s Weekly for 
 the summer and fall of 1877. On one page 
 you will find a romantic picture of an Indian 
 agency in the heart of the Rocky Mountains ; 
 in the corners are portraits of painted Indians 
 and of square-shouldered army officers. There 
 is also a picture of a column of soldiery, with 
 baggage-train and a few pieces of artillery, winding through the 
 mountains ; of groups of fierce savages posted behind rocks and 
 engaged in a battle with a little band of United States troops, so 
 far away down the valley that the men look like specks, and, but 
 for the white smoke of their guns, would hardly be recognized 
 as human beings, much less as men in the very heat of a bat 
 tle ; of a train of overloaded mules, picking their way along the 
 narrow trail upon the rocky sides of a mountain range, and one 
 poor animal is just losing his footing and is tumbling down over 
 the precipice to the rocks, hundreds of feet below. At the bot 
 tom of the page will be read the legend, " The Nez Perce Cam 
 paign General Howard in pursuit of Chief Joseph." These 
 pictures represent one problem, the problem of the frontiers, 
 of the undeveloped West ; a problem, of which the solution is 
 to be wrought out amid the sublime solitudes of the wilderness, 
 and in the gloomy shadows of unmeasured mountain ranges. 
 Turning the page of the pictorial newspaper, we pass from 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 837 
 
 the foaming rivers, the lonely valleys, the craggy precipices of 
 the wilderness to scenes laid in the hearts of great cities. The 
 pictures are full of intense excitement. There are tall build 
 ings, wrapped in flames, surrounded by crowds of riotous men,, 
 preventing by force all efforts to quench the flames which have 
 been kindled by incendiary torches. Long lines of locomotive 
 engines, blowing off steam through their escape valves, stand on 
 tracks, ready and impatient to move the commerce of the world, 
 but no engineer is in the cab and no fireman on the tender. In 
 the foreground surge excited masses of strikers, ready to kill 
 the first man who ventures to step on the foot-boards of the 
 waiting engines. 
 
 We see also pictures of magnificent depots, of splendid rail 
 road bridges, and of miles of loaded freight cars being destroyed 
 by all-consuming flames. On another page is a street scene, a 
 riot. Dense throngs of angry men, black with soot from the 
 furnace and the forge, bearing on their persons the world- wide 
 badge of toil, are engaged in a conflict in the streets of a great 
 city with soldiers, who load and fire into the raging multitude. 
 Here and there lie on the cobble-stones forms which are cold in 
 death. Some of these are the sons of labor, brave and honest 
 men, who all their lives have been hard working but respected 
 citizens. They are fresh from the factory, the shops, and the 
 engine-room. At the bottom of these pages we may read the 
 legend, "The Great Strike The Riots in Pittsburg and other 
 Cities The Military driving the Mob The Great Incendiary 
 Conflagrations." These pictures present another problem ; a 
 problem of cities and of civilization, of labor and capital. 
 
 These opposite problems confronted us at the same time, and 
 equally required solution. Each, for the time being, was con 
 fronted, worked out, and ended. For neither of them, however, 
 was there obtained any permanent solution. The old troubles 
 will reappear in new guise. In this chapter we tell the story 
 of General Howard's treatment of the Nez Perces problem. 
 
 The Nez Perces are a tribe of Indians who formerly roamed 
 
'838 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 at will through the valleys pf northern Idaho. Why they are 
 called the Nez Perces, or " pierced noses," we do not know, 
 for the nasal appendages of these Indians have no unusual 
 deformity. In 1863 the United States Government made a 
 treaty, which was agreed to by about nine-tenths of this tribe. 
 This immense majority went peaceably on a reservation. But 
 there were some of the tribe who would not, and never did, 
 agree to any thing. Of these the principal chiefs at the time 
 -at which we write were Joseph, Whitebird, Looking Glass, and 
 Hush-hush-cute. While these malcontents continued to wander 
 up and down along the valleys of the Clearwater, the Salmon, 
 and the Snake rivers, the government surveyors, with chain and 
 compass, had pushed on resolutely, laying off the region into an 
 endless checker-board of sections, townships, and ranges. Close 
 behind the surveyors came the tide of immigration. Hardy 
 settlers built cabins, fenced in fields, planted grain, and herded 
 stock, right in the country which Joseph and his brethren had 
 claimed as their own. 
 
 For a year or two there had been signs of trouble. The 
 Indians grew sullen. They talked loudly of their rights. Still 
 no real outbreak was expected. In the spring of 1877 General 
 Howard was directed by the War Department to have a talk 
 with Joseph, and tell him that the time had come when he and 
 his people must move on to the reservation, and that if he 
 would not go through persuasion, he would be driven by force. 
 The council was appointed to be held at Fort Lapwai, the 
 station of the Indian agency for the Nez Perce reservation. 
 
 At the time of the war, the pictorial newspapers gave a 
 view of Lapwai. But they utterly failed to give a notion 
 of the loveliness of the valley. On either hand are mag 
 nificent ranges of mountains. At places the range dips or 
 bends aside, and through the openings one sees in the distance 
 other ranges of every shade of purple. The valleys, which 
 open their smiling recesses toward the sky, seem all the fairer, 
 all the gentler, all the more peaceful from contrast with 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 839 
 
 the rugged mountains. Lapwai is not really a fort. There is 
 a hollow square on the west of the crystalline river which winds 
 through the valley. On one side of the square are the officer's 
 quarters; on another, the barracks; on another, the guard-house. 
 In front of each of these buildings marches solemnly back 
 and forth a uniformed sentinel. The square is, in fact, a 
 parade ground. 
 
 Here, on the appointed day, was General Howard, an inter 
 preter, and a few other officers. As a preparation for the coun 
 cil, a hospital tent was pitched on one side of the parade- 
 ground. The sides of the tent were looped up, and the flies at 
 either end were stretched out on a temporary frame-work. This 
 primitive pavilion had several advantages. It protected its 
 occupants from the sun ; it afforded plenty of fresh air, a thing 
 much needed at an Indian council ; and (we say it in a whis 
 per) it made the council easy of access by the soldiers in case 
 treachery was attempted. 
 
 Here in this tent the handsome officers lounged about, impa 
 tiently waiting for the Indians. The balmy May morning, 
 with its floods of sunshine and cloudless sky arching the valley 
 from range to range with its azure canopy, was well advanced 
 before Joseph and his companions appeared in sight, some dis 
 tance away. There were about fifty of them in the company, 
 all mounted on Indian ponies, and proceeding slowly down 
 the valley in single file. First, came a long line of warriors, 
 wrapped in red and yellow blankets, wearing buckskin leg 
 gings and immense slouch hats. Behind them came the 
 women and children, their faces painted a bright red and their 
 clothing consisting of the most fantastic garments and showy 
 decorations. 
 
 The picturesque procession moved slowly toward the hollow 
 square. As they came nearer, it could be seen that they were 
 unarmed, except with tomahawk pipes, which could be used at 
 will to smoke the peaceful tobacco or to crush the skull of an 
 enemy. Just as they reached the square the leader turned 
 
840 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 sharply to the right, followed by the others, to march around 
 the outside of the inclosure. 
 
 This proceeding was accompanied by a wild Indian song, 
 sung with thrilling cadence and mournful harmony in high, 
 shrill, and quavering voices. The weird sound of the song, 
 echoed back and forth among the mountains, caused an involun 
 tary shudder among the occupants of the fort. Men may be 
 able to stifle every thrill of fear, but there lives not the soul 
 which will not sometimes quiver as if pained, responsive to the 
 vibrations of some subtle and soul-searching melody. The few 
 ladies, wives of the officers, huddled together in closer groups 
 inquiring, " Do you think Joseph means to fight ?" The officers 
 clenched their hands and breathed more rapidly. The common 
 sentinels and soldiers looked from one to another with a startled, 
 sickish look in their eyes. Higher and higher rose the song, 
 swelling from the first plaintive murmurs, till it seemed like a 
 piercing and agonizing wail. Suddenly the burden of the song 
 changed. It consisted no longer of a wail, a cry, but of short, 
 sharp, unmistakable notes of defiance. 
 
 The circuit of the hollow square was completed, Joseph and 
 his principal men marched under the canvas canopy. But after 
 all this preparation it seemed that the "talk" could not be had 
 that day. White Bird was on his way, said Joseph, and he 
 would not talk until his friend arrived. So the meeting 
 adjourned until the next day. 
 
 On the following morning there was the same gaudy proces 
 sion down the valley, the same march around the square, and 
 the same weird song ending with notes of defiance. As the sound 
 died away, one of the ladies said to another, " I think their song- 
 is more warlike and bolder than that of yesterday." It was proba 
 bly imagination. 
 
 Once assembled under the canvas, the Indian agent through 
 ;in interpreter, explained patiently that the government demanded 
 that Joseph, White Bird, and Hush-hush-cute, who were pres 
 ent this time with their people, must go on the reservation. 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 841 
 
 To this the various chiefs made rather insolent replies, repeal 
 ing much about the earth's being their mother, and about the 
 Great Spirit's having given it to the Indians for a home. The 
 most dangerous speaker, however, was an old Dreamer. He 
 was a sort of prophet, who taught that the earth, having been 
 created by God in its completeness, should not be interfered 
 with, disturbed, or improved by man, and that if the Indians 
 continued steadfast in that belief a great leader would be raised 
 up in the east, at a single blast of whose trumpet all the dead 
 warriors would start suddenly into life, and that the millions of 
 braves thus collected would expel the white man from the con 
 tinent of America, and repossess it for their own dusky race. 
 The Dreamer was a person of high importance, and his influence 
 among his people was unbounded. 
 
 As the council proceeded the chiefs became excited. " There 
 are always two parties to a dispute. The one that is right will 
 come out ahead. We have heard about a bargain, a trade 
 between some of these Indians (referring to the treaty Nez 
 Perces) and the white men concerning their land ; but we belong 
 to the land out of which we came. Who gave Washington rule 
 over us ? You have no right to compare us, grown men, with 
 children. Grown men .think for themselves. The government 
 at Washington shall not think for us." 
 
 Such was their temper that General Howard felt that it 
 would be well to have the company of cavalry from Walowa, and 
 one from Walla-walla nearer at hand. The two skeleton com 
 panies of troops at Lapwai were outnumbered five to one by the 
 hordes of well-armed Indians, who kept pouring in. So by 
 agreement there was a further postponement of the council till 
 the following Monday. On that day, the old Dreamer was more 
 saucy than ever, whereupon General Howard boldly arrested 
 him. 
 
 This incident and the reports of approaching troops softened 
 the fierce temper of the Indians. "What makes me feel like 
 laughing this morning, General Howard?" asked Joseph in a 
 
842 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 pleasant voice. "There are," said the general, "three kinds 
 of laughter one from fun, another from deceit, and another 
 from real joy." " Mine," said the liar, " is from real joy." So 
 the council broke up with an understanding that Joseph and his 
 brethren were to go on the reservation within a month. Gen 
 eral Howard and his officers packed their baggage, well pleased 
 at the peaceful prospect, and returned to Portland, Oregon. 
 
 Still, after thoughtful consultations, it was decided that 
 Joseph, securing allies from other roaming tribes along the 
 Columbia River, might change his mind. It was important 
 to check any such movement. So on the 30th of May the 
 general again started for the Indian country. He arrived at 
 Fort Lapwai, and found the little post as peaceful as the valley 
 in which- it was located. Towards evening the officers were 
 sitting out in front of their quarters, when a man was seen 
 galloping down the valley in hot haste. He shortly reached 
 the post, sprang from his foaming steed, and delivered a letter 
 to Colonel Perry, the commandant. It came from Mount Idaho, 
 sixty miles south-east of Lapwai, and contained information 
 from an intelligent settler that the Indians under Joseph were 
 evidently preparing for hostilities. 
 
 At early dawn a small detachment started from Mount Idaho 
 to collect information. At noon two friendly Indians came in 
 with excited stories of the murder of some settlers. Later still, 
 another messenger arrived, confirming the previous reports. The 
 idle little post was transformed into a scene of bustling activity. 
 Arms were examined, ammunition prepared, horses brought in, 
 and pack-saddles adjusted. Every face wore a serious look, and 
 the busy hum of earnest conversation was heard on every side. 
 In the morning the officers, the ladies of the post, and a num 
 ber of friendly Indians assembled in an excited group on Colo 
 nel Perry's front porch. Messenger after messenger continued 
 to arrive with reports of Indian outrages. Here is one of 
 the letters received, all a-quiver with the excitement of the 
 occasion : 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 843 
 
 "MOUNT IDAHO, 8 A. M., June 15, 1877. 
 
 "COMMANDING OFFICER, FORT LAPWAI, 
 
 "I have just sent a dispatch by Mr. West, half-breed. Since 
 that was written the wounded have come in, Mr. Day, mor 
 tally ; Mrs. Norton, with both legs broken ; Moore, shot through 
 the hips ; Norton, killed and left in the road six miles from 
 here. Teams were attacked on the road and abandoned. The 
 Indians have possession of the prairie and threaten Mount 
 Idaho. All the people are here, and we will do the best we 
 can. Lose no time in getting up with a force. Stop the stage 
 and all " through travelers." Give us relief and arms and am 
 munition. Chapman has got this Indian (the messenger, Look 
 ing-glass's brother), hoping he may get through. I fear the peo 
 ple on Salmon have all been killed, as a party was seen going 
 that way last night. We had a report last night that seven 
 whites had been killed on Salmon. Notify the people of Lewis- 
 ton. Hurry up ; hurry ! Rely on this Indian's statement ; I 
 have known him for a long time. He is witn us. 
 
 " L. P. BROWN." 
 
 "P. S. Send a dispatch to town for the express not to 
 start up unless heavily escorted. Give the bearer a fresh, horse, 
 and send him back. CHAPMAN." 
 
 What was to be done ? There were about fifty men at Lap- 
 wai. It was unsafe to weaken the garrison by a single man. 
 Besides, a force of twenty-five men would be merely victims to 
 the Indian warriors. Meanwhile the outrages were going on. 
 " Hurry up ; hurry !" Other troops were hundreds of miles 
 away. Fortunately the news had also reached Walla-Walla, 
 and sixty cavalry-men arrived at Lapwai. These, with thirty 
 men from the garrison, all mounted, and commanded by Colonel 
 Perry, started off into the darkness along the muddy mountain 
 road. General Howard remained at Lapwai to hurry forward 
 re-enforcements. 
 
 The men who went to the front, sustained by the high ex 
 citement of the hour, went forward to their fate with steady 
 
 47 
 

 
 844 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 march and unflinching hearts. But those who were left behind 
 had no such exhilaration. For them there was restlessness, 
 impatience, and fever. " To remain at home and wait amid the 
 pulsations of extreme anxiety who but woman is equal to the 
 task ?" writes General Howard. There was one lady still at 
 the fort, the newly married wife of Lieutenant Theller. Hard, 
 indeed, was it for her to see the fond form, so stalwart, so con 
 fident, ride away, leaving her, only one thought burning in her 
 heart that of his return. 
 
 As the little command toiled forward along the eighty miles 
 of mountain trail, let us see what had really been happening. 
 Joseph's band had appeared near Mount Idaho, and on the 
 afternoon of June 13th a party of Indians stealthily advanced 
 to a small cabin on Salmon River. This humble structure 
 was the home of Richard Divine, an old man who, for some 
 reason unknown, had forsaken the busy haunts of men and 
 built for himself this lodge in the wilderness, which he occupied 
 alone. Old Divine was quickly killed. It was at sunset, and 
 the ruthless savages made off, leaving his unburied body on the 
 doorstep of his cabin. 
 
 From this place the Indians proceeded to the cabin of 
 Henry Elfers, Robert Bland, and Henry Becknoge. These, too, 
 were killed, and their horses taken by the murderers. Samuel 
 Benedict was out looking for his cattle. A bullet was planted 
 in his side. He managed to remount his horse, and the faith 
 ful animal bore him at the top of its speed to the cabin where 
 he lived. He had lain there wounded and helpless for an hour 
 or two, when a rude hand burst open his door, and a terrible 
 tomahawk was struck into his skull. 
 
 Besides these outrages others, many others, of the settlers, 
 pioneers of civilization, fell victims to their own courage. Mrs. 
 Norton, Hill Norton, Miss Bowers, Joseph Moore, John Cham 
 berlain, with his wife and two children, proprietors of the 
 Cottonwood House, a small frontier inn, learning of the danger 
 from a passing messenger who had started to Lapwai, but had 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 845 
 
 been attacked by Indians and driven back, hastily prepared for 
 flight to Mount Idaho, eighteen miles away. It was ten o'clock 
 at night, and they were all in bed when the alarm reached them. 
 Two of the party rode horseback and the rest were packed into 
 a farm wagon. In this order they took up their journey with 
 out delay. Ten miles, more than half the distance, had been 
 made when they heard behind them, clattering down the stony 
 trail, the hoofs of hurrying horses. 
 
 On they pressed in their lumbering coach, but the pursuers 
 gained rapidly. They began to fire on the little party of refu 
 gees. Norton and Moore, who were on horses, were each terri 
 bly wounded, and had to be taken into the wagon. In a few 
 moments the balls, which whistled over the party lying flat in 
 the wagon, without injury, struck and killed the horses com 
 posing the wagon team. Further progress was impossible. The 
 party sprang out of the wagon in an attempt to escape on foot. 
 Miss Bowers and little Hill Norton got away in the darkness. 
 The Chamberlain family fled in another direction, but were 
 discovered and pursued. The husband and father was shot 
 dead. The boy was murdered, according to the mother's state 
 ment, by having his head placed beneath the knees of a pow 
 erful Indian and crushed. The other child was torn from its 
 mother, a piece of its tongue cut out, and a knife run quite 
 through its neck, and left sticking there. Mrs. Chamberlain 
 was repeatedly outraged by the Indians, and received severe 
 injuries. The remainder of the party, despairing of escape by 
 flight, had undertaken to conceal themselves behind and beneath 
 the dead horses. Here Norton was killed. Moore was shot 
 through the hips, Day through the shoulder and leg, and 
 Mrs. Norton through both legs. Day and Moore subse 
 quently died. 
 
 The Indians were frantic with delight. " See this fine horse, 
 this rifle, saddle, and these good clothes ! Why remain here 
 talking forever ? The war has begun ! I am mad ! I have 
 killed our enemies ! There is blood ! Come on ; there is plenty 
 
846 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 I 
 
 of every thing, if you only work !" Such was the speech of a 
 chief to his braves. 
 
 The Salmon is a torrent with mountain shores. White Bird 
 is a creek flowing into the Salmon through a canon which it 
 has channeled out for itself transversely through the mountain. 
 A narrow trail leads down the side of this canon, commencing 
 at its head where the cut first begins, and winding down by a 
 long descent to the rolling country which forms the bottom of 
 the canon. 
 
 Here, at the head of this trail, Colonel Perry's command 
 halted an hour before dawn on the morning of the 17th of 
 June. As the sweet mountain air was transfused with a mellow 
 radiance from the coming day, and the dark abysses of the 
 canon stood forth in the sunlight stripped of their blacker 
 shadows, there could be seen, four miles away, on the bottom 
 of the vast ravine, the Indian camp. As the officers scruti 
 nized the scene with their field-glasses, now and then some 
 
 
 
 sleepy warrior would come out of his lodge wrapped in his 
 blanket and, rubbing his sleepy eyes, would begin to search for 
 
 his horse. 
 
 
 The sunlight, which at first had tinged the highest peaks with 
 
 ruddy glow, until they seemed like pyramids of fire against the 
 morning sky, gradually painted the broad edges and sloping sur 
 faces of the west side of the canon with warmth and beauty. 
 At that moment Joseph himself came out of the principal lodge. 
 His quick eye instantly discovered the group of horsemen stand 
 ing far up at the head of the canon outlined against the sky 
 like figures carved in ebony. " Get the white man's glass 1 
 Tell White Bird. Horses ! The soldiers are here," he shouted 
 in the sharp accents of command. 
 
 Shortly busy hands were at work pulling down the lodges 
 and loading the mules. The women and children were hurriedly 
 conveyed across the Salmon River. The warriors quickly hid 
 themselves behind rocks and knolls. White Bird, with his 
 band took a position behind a ridge somewhat in advance of the 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 847 
 
 others and on the right of the trail. On came the column of 
 devoted troops down the side of the canon toward the fatal 
 spot. Every rider held his glittering carbine ready for instant 
 use. Not an Indian was to be seen. 
 
 Suddenly, as they were about to reach the ground lately 
 occupied by the Indian camp, dark and hideous faces popped 
 out everywhere, from behind stones and out of gulches and 
 ravines. At the same moment White Bird's flanking party 
 appeared two hundred yards to their left. 
 
 The troops quickly formed in line, each man seeking some 
 cover behind which to hide. The Indians greatly outnumbering 
 the whites, continually overlapped the latter's flanks. The 
 troops extended their line, making it thinner and thinner. For 
 ten minutes they held their ground. Then a band of Indian 
 flankers on the left suddenly forced the men to fall back. The 
 soldiers, catching the alarm, instantly deserted their hiding places 
 in the rocky canon, and ran backward toward higher ground 
 in the rear. But they could not stop here. The men were 
 falling on every hand, while swarms of savages were already 
 surrounding the spot and pouring in deadly volleys. The air 
 was full of noise and smoke, and everywhere was heard the 
 sharp commands of officers and the excited cries of the men. 
 
 Back they fled, faster and faster, stopping every minute or 
 so in a vain attempt to rally behind some knoll, only to be driven 
 to seek other refuge. White Bird's flanking party dashed out 
 of a little transverse ravine, heading off the men just as they 
 reached the foot of the narrow trail. Here there was a desper 
 ate conflict. Such as could do so dashed through the midst of 
 the Indians at the top of their horses' speed, and made their 
 way up the trail toward the head of the canon. The rest were 
 left dead or dying in the lonely White Bird Canon. Among 
 those who fell was Lieutenant Theller. It became General 
 Howard's duty, when the remnant of the men made their way 
 back to Lapwai, to inform the young wife of her husband's fate. 
 " I endeavored to control myself and break the tidings gently. 
 
848 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 But Mrs. Theller read it in my face before I could speak, and 
 words had no place. ' Oh my husband !' " 
 
 Such was the fate of the first expedition, and the worst 
 apprehensions of danger to the settlers from the victorious 
 savages were indulged in. The work had now to be begun 
 anew. Meanwhile every possible effort had been making to 
 secure troops. One messenger had been dispatched to Fort Wal- 
 lowa, with orders for two cavalry companies to march to Lap 
 wai, stopping neither day nor night. Similar orders were sent 
 to the infantry at Walla-walla one hundred and ten miles distant. 
 From this point also, being the nearest line of telegraph, dis 
 patches were sent to San Francisco for twenty-five scouts, and 
 to Portland for three months' supplies. 
 
 This done, the only thing was to wait. Slow indeed seemed 
 the advance of the expected succor. Slow, although the mes 
 sengers had ridden day and night at a break-neck rate, killing 
 two horses on the way; slow, although not a moment was lost 
 in getting the troops under way, and not an hour's rest was had 
 as they hurried forward. Yet this took days and days. Rumors 
 of the terrible defeat reached Lapwai, and yet no re-enforcements 
 were in sight. The broken fragments of the little army, which 
 had gone forth, fell back bleeding and stricken, and yet there 
 were no others to take their place. Four days after the news 
 of the disaster amid the shadows of White Bird Canon, there 
 were but two hundred soldiers at Lapwai. Besides these there 
 were twenty volunteers. 
 
 Further delay for re-enforcements was desirable, yet impos 
 sible. The little band of men, cavalry and infantry, together 
 with an old mountain howitzer and two Gatling guns, are drawn 
 up in marching order. The train of pack-mules, with their im 
 mense loads of ammunition and provision, move restlessly back 
 and forward in the parade-ground. The trained white mare, 
 with the tinkling bell attached to her neck, stands thoughtful 
 and attentive, ready to lead her restless followers along the 
 stony trail. " The moment of starting is solemn. The air is 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 849 
 
 full of rumors. The few daring messengers, bearing news of 
 the defeat, had skulked through by night to Lapwai. The road 
 wound through ravines and over mountains. It passed the 
 mouths of black and awful canons and lay for a long distance' 
 over a range covered with rugged forests. The whole route is 
 full of traps, pitfalls, and natural ambuscades." 
 
 The last farewells are said. The last mule-pack is adjusted. 
 The last red-shirted artillery-man takes his stand by his gun. 
 There is a moment of quiet. Suddenly the commanding officer 
 shouts "Attention !" and then, a moment later, " Column, march !" 
 Every man steps off with the right foot. The cavalry are in 
 front. The proud bell-mare, with her cavalcade of mules, stub 
 born to all else, but to her yielding the most perfect obedience, 
 follow, and behind them, in column of fours, come the infantry. 
 
 At half past one o'clock the troops reached the deserted 
 Cottonwood House. Doors and windows were open wide. Im 
 mediately after the departure of the ill-fated Norton family and 
 their companions, the Indians had ransacked the entire house. 
 Everywhere were found broken chairs, open drawers, and ruined 
 furniture. In their senseless destruction the Indians had taken 
 the very flour, sugar, and salt, and thrown it around on the 
 floors. Inside was this scene of desolation and tragedy; out 
 side, a country as well watered as Eden and richer than any 
 garden in the world. Thus does nature, great, calm, and peace 
 ful, offer her balm to heart-sick and suffering humanity. 
 
 In time the troops reached the head of the blood-stained 
 White Bird Canon. The Indians were no longer there. Slowly 
 and cautiously the soldiers made their way down the narrow 
 trail toward the trap into which Perry's command had fallen. 
 There they found the bodies of the brave boys, stripped of their 
 clothing, and lying unburied beneath the summer's sun. Rev 
 erent hands wrapped the dead in soldiers' blankets, and buried 
 them on the spot where they had fallen. 
 
 Meanwhile from the top of a lofty mountain scouts had dis 
 covered Joseph and his people on the opposite side of the swift 
 
850 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 running Salmon River, behind some curious hills. " The leader 
 ship of Joseph," says General Howard, "was indeed remarkable." 
 The whites must cross the rapid river in front of him. He could 
 either oppose this crossing, or retreat to the rear, or turn south 
 up the Salmon, or north, and down that river. In case he chose 
 the latter course, he would be marching toward Mount Idaho on 
 a line east of the Salmon River, parallel with that along which 
 the soldiers in their march had come. This would bring him 
 between the soldiers and the settlements. 
 
 The soldiers made ready to cross the Salmon River, an 
 undertaking of great danger, both by reason of the furious flow 
 of the torrent and of the red enemies on the further side. 
 During the night Joseph fled, taking the course down the Sal 
 mon River and toward the settlements. The troops were 
 ordered to cross the river and commence pursuit. At the first 
 attempt the raft was swept away. It was determined to 
 retrace their steps along the course they had come and head 
 off Joseph should he attempt to cross the river toward the 
 settlements. 
 
 Leaving the main force for a moment, let us turn to the 
 little detachment which had been sent back under Captain 
 Whipple to look after Looking Glass, who had not yet joined 
 the malcontents. Somewhere near Mount Idaho Whipple dis 
 covered the enemy. He sent forward Lieutenant Rains, with 
 ten picked men and a scout, to ascertain the strength of the 
 Indian forces. Following this advance-guard at a distance of 
 a mile with his main force the sound of firing was heard at 
 the front. Hurrying forward Whipple and his command were 
 horrified to find that Rains and EVERY MAN in his detachment 
 had been killed. 
 
 All this took place in the neighborhood of the desolate 
 Cottonwood House, where, on the 5th of July, the men were 
 encamped. Toward noon two mounted men were seen ap 
 proaching the camp at full speed. " Some citizens," said they, 
 "a couple of miles away on the Mount Idaho road, are sur- 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 851 
 
 rounded by Indians and being cut to pieces." The little com 
 pany of troops at once set forward in double quick toward the 
 scene of conflict. The victims were a company of seventeen 
 volunteers. Several had already fallen, but on the approach of 
 Whipple's soldiers the Indians galloped off and were lost to 
 sight behind the hills. 
 
 It was the llth of July before Howard with his main force 
 again caught sight of Joseph. The troops were on a high bluff 
 overlooking the Clearwater River. The hostiles were discov 
 ered below on either side of the stream, a position from which 
 they were quickly driven by showers of balls from the Gatling 
 guns. For some distance down the stream, on the side occu 
 pied by the soldiers, there was a rough, rocky plateau termi 
 nating in a bluff overlooking a large ravine or canon, leading 
 up from the river. The Indians' attempt was to escape from 
 between the high, perpendicular walls along either side of the 
 river through the opening made by this canon. They were, 
 in fact, just hurrying up the ravine when the whites discovered 
 the movement and sought to prevent it. A fierce battle fol 
 lowed. The Indian sharp-shooters, planted behind lofty rocks, 
 picked off the soldiers, while the latter fired into the ravine 
 from the bluff or made charges down the slopes of smaller 
 ravines leading into the main one. At nightfall the position of 
 the two forces was unchanged. 
 
 On the following day the battle was renewed. About half- 
 past two a furious charge was made into the ravine. For a 
 few minutes the Indians fought desperately from behind their 
 rocky covers, but at length gave way and fled in all directions, 
 bounding from rock to rock through the ravines or plunging 
 into the river out of sight only to reappear when its rapid cur 
 rent had borne them out of gunshot. The Indian camp, with 
 all its blankets, buffalo robes,, cooking utensils, and provisions, 
 fell into the hands of the victors. 
 
 Joseph and his band fled toward the east. Nothing remained 
 but pursuit. Without pausing for a rest, General Howard and 
 
852 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 his troops, now four hundred in number, plunged into the moun 
 tains and wilderness, only to be heard of by the outside world 
 at occasional intervals. Now they hurried on by steep and sKp- 
 pery paths toward the crest of a mountain range. Now, along 
 crooked and narrow trails, deep with slimy mud, they slipped 
 and floundered for hours at a time. Sometimes the trail led 
 them into vast masses of fallen timber, inextricably interlaced 
 so that no passage could be had until a way had been chopped 
 with axes. In crossing from range to range, the descent and 
 ascent were often so precipitous that no human being could 
 make the journey. In such cases they kept to the " Hog Back," 
 a narrow, crooked ridge connecting the two ranges. 
 
 Along these almost impassable paths the Indians had fled. 
 They had jammed their ponies between rocks and over trees, 
 leaving many a splotch of blood and dead animal to mark their 
 way. Meanwhile a tall messenger reached the camp of the 
 pursuers. General Gibbon, from Helena, Montana, had started 
 west with two hundred men, and sent an urgent call for re- 
 enforcements. Joseph was now between the two forces, one 
 from the east, the other pursuing him from the west. A ser 
 geant named Sutherland with an Indian guide was at once dis 
 patched on the strongest horse in the command to inform Gibbon 
 of the progress of the pursuers. His journey was solitary and 
 dangerous; he was to rest neither by night nor day. Once he 
 came to a perpendicular mountain blocking his way. The trail 
 led along a narrow shelf in the side of the precipice, covered 
 with loose rocks, and scarcely eighteen inches wide. Below him 
 yawned an awful abyss, hundreds of feet in depth. Dismount 
 ing, the white man and his guide slowly and cautiously led their 
 sure-footed animals around this narrow pathway, without slip 
 ping off the shelving rock, till, at last, they reached the other 
 side. It had taken half the night to make the passage. The 
 Indian guide soon deserted Sutherland, but the latter pressed on 
 his way, lame and sore, bearing the news to General Gibbon. 
 
 Meanwhile the two hundred cavalry, pressing forward to co- 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 853 
 
 operate with General Gibbon, had left the infantry far behind. 
 As the days progressed it became evident that even this would 
 not- suffice. Twenty men, on the strongest horses in the com 
 pany, were detached to hurry forward in advance of the others. 
 Soon they met messengers carrying news of a battle, which had 
 been fought between Joseph and General Gibbon's troops. On 
 the llth of August the squad of picked cavalry-men, with Gen 
 eral Howard at their head, galloped into the fortified camp of 
 General Gibbon. On the previous day they had had a severe 
 engagement with the enemy, losing a howitzer and about thirty 
 officers and men. Again the wily Joseph had escaped from the 
 grasp of his pursuers. It remained only to again begin the 
 chase. Almost every hour some panic-stricken settlers met the 
 troops with wild reports of outrages and alarms. The cry was> 
 " Hurry, hurry, hurry !" 
 
 On the night of the 19th of August, 1877, General Howard's 
 command encamped in a large grassy meadow. The night was 
 starlight. Nothing could be heard in the camp but the regular 
 footfall of a sentinel, or a noise among the animals. Suddenly 
 a terrific roar of musketry, mingled with terrible yells, burst 
 upon the startled camp. The men were instantly upon their 
 feet, adjusting accouterments, and searching in the darkness for 
 their guns. 
 
 How had the Indians approached so near without discovery ? 
 The shrewd Joseph had drilled a band of them to march by 
 fours, keeping steady step. In the darkness this company ad 
 vanced to the very lines of the camp, being mistaken by the 
 sentinels for a returning detachment of their own troops, which 
 had been out on special duty. In the confusion of the moment 
 the mules broke loose and fled. 
 
 The Indians did not press their attack. The pursuit was- 
 therefore not ended. Within two or three days more, it became 
 impossible to proceed. The stout army shoes with which the 
 men had started out were now shapeless masses of worn leather. 
 Most of the men were barefooted. Their uniforms torn and 
 
854 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ruined by the rough journey through the mountains, had become 
 rags and were held together by strings. The blankets were 
 falling to pieces, while the nights were becoming exceedingly 
 cold. What could be done ? A halt was ordered. General 
 Howard and a companion had a team hitched to a rough lumber 
 wagon, and started on a gallop, over a country literally covered 
 with bowlders of every size and shape, toward Virginia City, 
 seventy miles away. When the rough, mining town was reached 
 the traders were made supremely happy. All the shoes, cloth 
 ing, blankets, and provisions in the place were bought up. 
 
 On his return to the camp with welcome supplies, General 
 Howard says, "We found telegrams from the war department 
 like the following : ' Where Indians can subsist, the army can 
 live ; continue the pursuit. If you are tired, general, put in a 
 younger man and return to Oregon, but the troops must go 
 on!'" The army did go on, on toward the south, on until the 
 wonderful Geyser landscape, "with its vast seas of almost bar 
 ren sulphur crust, was reached." Looking out over the waste 
 expanse, the men discovered a black object, a speck. An hour's 
 march enabled them to discover that the object moved. Another 
 hour, and they discovered that it had the semblance of a human 
 being, a man. He was breathless, hatless, almost naked, and 
 nearly starved. His feet were wrapped in rags. His face had 
 the wild aspect of a maniac. His hair and beard, long and di 
 sheveled, made him look like a wild man. His talk was almost 
 unintelligible. " Indians, God ! I got away. Heaven, 
 the rest are killed, all killed." Continually repeating these 
 words, he varied them only by vague and incoherent mut- 
 te rings. 
 
 Farther on, the troops picked up another man. He was 
 hot through both cheeks. The summer sun had scorched the 
 wound, and inflammation had so swollen and discolored the sur 
 rounding flesh that the poor man's face had lost every aspect 
 of a human countenance. His head, bloody and misshapen, 
 looked like that of a monster. Swarms of flies gathered upon 
 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 855 
 
 the wounded parts. The man could not speak a word, but 
 could communicate with his rescuers only by means of a few 
 agonized signs. 
 
 Not far away was found a third unfortunate. He was twice 
 wounded, but still was able to talk intelligently. He was 
 a lawyer. His name was Cowan. He with his wife, sister- 
 in-law, and children, together with four or five gentlemen, 
 including one or two trusty guides, had been on a pleasure trip 
 through this wonderful region. The novelty of travel in covered 
 wagons had been delightful. One morning, little dreaming of 
 danger, they were suddenly attacked. The travelers fought as 
 well as they could. In vain. Besides the three men which had 
 been found, the rest of the party had been killed, with the 
 exception of two ladies, who were taken prisoner. 
 
 On the 9th of September, messengers brought word that 
 General Sturgis with a strong force of cavalry was coming from 
 the south. Joseph was now between the two forces. Could 
 the Indian chieftain again escape ? Yes, this man or savage, with 
 a genius for war which would have made him eminent among 
 the military leaders of the age, made a feint toward the west, 
 fooling Sturgis, and sending the latter off on a wild goose chase, 
 while he and his people, under cover of a dense forest, made 
 their way into a narrow and slippery canon. This was im 
 mensely deep. The high, narrow walls were but twenty feet 
 apart. Down into this dark canon at a practicable point slipped 
 and floundered the cavalry and infantry. It was a strange 
 sight,, as the column wound along the bottom of the defile, men, 
 horses, pack mules, and artillery, with only a narrow ribbon of 
 sky just above them. All in vain. Joseph escaped again. 
 
 A junction was soon formed with Sturgis, and the latter's 
 fresh cavalry at once hurried forward in the unending pursuit. 
 On the evening of the 13th of September, word reached General 
 Howard that a battle was being fought. Taking fifty cavalry 
 men he at once hurried forward in the bitter cold and darkness 
 of the swamps. "At sunrise," says he, "we crossed the Yellow- 
 
856 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND t ROMANCES. 
 
 stone, and by half past ten reached the battle-field. It was 
 the most horrible of places, sage brush and dirt, and only alka 
 line water, and very little of that! Dead horses were strewn 
 about and other relics of the battle-field. A few wounded men 
 and the dead were there. To all this admixture of disagree 
 able things was added a cold, raw wind that unobstructed swept 
 over the country." 
 
 Joseph again got away. Sturgis was already twenty miles 
 beyond the battle-field, but every hour the pursuers were losing 
 ground. The Indians were running night and day. They were 
 now moving directly north, through the heart of Montana, 
 having traveled more than two hundred and fifty miles due 
 east of the region where the pursuit had begun, while the jour 
 ney actually accomplished had been more than six times the dis 
 tance. The British frontier was but a hundred miles away. 
 To reach that line of safety Joseph was straining every nerve. 
 It was evident that the pursuers could never overtake him. 
 
 There was yet one hope. Days before, a messenger had 
 embarked in a canoe and started down the .Yellowstone River 
 to Fort Keough, sixty miles from the Dakota boundary, to 
 apprise General Miles, who was in command at that point, of 
 the situation. The hope was that Miles would at once set out 
 in a diagonal line to the north-west and head off Joseph before 
 he reached the British frontier. Meanwhile, General Howard 
 kept on after the fugitives. He says, "I in my heart, earnestly 
 petitioned for God's help, expressing a sentiment that I hope 
 was sincere : ' If thou wilt grant my request, do so, I beseech 
 thee, even at the expense of another's receiving the credit of 
 the expedition.' ' 
 
 At last two messengers were seen approaching in hot haste. 
 They brought word that Joseph had crossed the Missouri at 
 Cow Island, while Miles had crossed it twenty miles below, and 
 was still pressing forward to intercept the enemy. Of his move 
 ment Joseph was yet in ignorance. Another messenger came, 
 a curious and solitary frontiersman, known as Slippery Dick. 
 

 
JOSEPH AND HIS BRETHREN. 859 
 
 He reported that just inside the British dominions, not fifty 
 miles away, was the great chieftain, Sitting Bull, with twelve 
 hundred warriors. Joseph was making his way toward that 
 refuge. On the 4th of October, General Howard, with a 
 small detachment, suddenly came within sight of General 
 Miles' s camp. 
 
 The most remarkable series of events had taken place. 
 Joseph, ignorant of Miles's proximity, had encamped near the 
 mouth of a ravine. The American commander, hurling his men 
 upon the enemy with terrific force, drove the Indians into the 
 ravine. In a short time all escape from the ravine was cut off. 
 Yet, penned up in this death-trap, encumbered by women and 
 children, his braves sick, wounded, lamed, and dying from the 
 hardships of the awful chase, Joseph bravely proceeded to 
 erect intrenchments and prepare for a siege. In a few days, 
 however, he surrendered. 
 
 By his performances he became entitled to be recognized as 
 one of the remarkable men of the age. One more day's march 
 would have placed him inside the British dominions. For four 
 months he had eluded his pursuers, having traveled more than 
 fifteen hundred miles through the wildest, rockiest, and most 
 mountainous region in America. He had crossed ranges, leaped 
 canons, and swam mountain torrents ; all this while carrying 
 with him, on this remarkable flight, the women, children, and 
 property of his tribe. He had been pursued altogether by four 
 armies, any one of which far outnumbered his force. He had 
 fought five battles against an enemy supplied with all the 
 resources of modern warfare, and each time he had been prac 
 tically victorious. Had he had the least suspicion of Miles's 
 approach, it is evident that his fertile genius would have eluded 
 his enemies once more, and have been able to laugh at all 
 their toil. 
 
 While General Miles stepped in at the last moment and 
 carried off the fruit of all the labors of the pursuers by a brill 
 iant military victory, it is but fair that history should accord 
 
860 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 to General Howard the chief laurels of the triumph. In all 
 our Indian warfare we have no record of any achievement at 
 all comparable with the pursuit of Nez Perce Joseph. 
 
 The great Indian leader, with the broken remnant of his 
 people, has been transported by the United States Government 
 hundreds of miles away from the beautiful country which was 
 their own, to the Indian Territory. There, let us hope that, 
 under other skies and happier auspices, the invincible bravery, 
 the strategic genius, the fertile intellect, with its inexhaustible 
 resources, the proud spirit, with its unconquerable determina 
 tion, of Chief Joseph, may be transmitted by him to other 
 generations, and there find employment in the busy tasks of 
 civilized society. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 
 
 861 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 
 
 NELSON LEE, THE TEXAN RANGER. 
 
 UBING the revolutionary struggles of the Lone 
 Star republic, Texas was a great magnet, to 
 ward which were irresistibly attracted, from 
 every portion of the Union, men of physical 
 courage and restless appetite for adventure. 
 This race of men, collected from all parts of 
 the country, had much in common. By a prin 
 ciple of natural selection, they were all kindred 
 spirits. War, adventure, scouting, Indian fighting were their 
 pleasures. What to other men was tragedy, was to them com 
 edy. When taken prisoners by the Mexicans, they drew the 
 black beans, which doomed them to military execution within 
 ten minutes, with the same light, airy demeanor with which 
 they would have thrown dice for drinks or flirted with a Mex 
 ican maid. Strange, wild fellows they were, often of gigantic 
 stature, shaggy as lions, and not less brave. Such were the 
 men who, in the wars between Texas and Mexico, and later, 
 between the United States and Mexico, formed those historic 
 bands of scouts known as " Texan Rangers." 
 
 Among the restless fellows who were drawn to Texas by the 
 very troubles which drove other people from the State was 
 Nelson Lee, a young man born arid raised near Watertown, 
 New York. He had volunteered for the Black Hawk war, 
 but his company was scourged by small-pox while on their 
 
862 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 way to the front, and before the men recovered, poor old Black 
 Hawk had been captured and deposed from his chieftaincy. 
 Disappointed in this, young Lee took up a seafaring life. Tiring 
 of this, he, in 1839, resolved to abandon the sea, and cast his 
 fortunes among the fierce Texans. The state at that time, as 
 will be remembered, was an independent republic, but a bloody 
 border warfare raged incessantly with Mexico. Perhaps less 
 with the notion of reconquering Texas than with annoying 
 her people and gathering plunder, Mexican bandits were contin 
 ually crossing the border and falling upon some remote and 
 unsuspecting settlement like destroying devils, and then retreat 
 ing as rapidly as they advanced. Of course, the Texans retal 
 iated in the bloodiest manner. 
 
 For the purpose of protecting the settlers from these raids, 
 as well as punishing the Mexicans, there came into existence 
 bands of scouts, or bushwhackers, employed by the Texas gov 
 ernment at a dollar a day, and known as the " Texan Rangers." 
 Lee, finding no other employment so congenial or so profitable, 
 soon enlisted in one of these companies, under Captain Cameron. 
 The Ranger was usually dressed in buckskin, with a cap made 
 from the fur of a wild-cat. Three or four revolvers and as 
 many bowie knives were thrust through his belt, and a short 
 rifle was thrown across his arm. The most important part of 
 his equipment was a horse of great speed and endurance, on 
 which a journey of eighty miles could be readily made between 
 sunrise and sunset. 
 
 Lee's first taste of Ranger warfare was a fight with a band of 
 Comanche Indians, who worried the settlements quite as much 
 as the Mexicans. He was green at the business, but won the 
 respect of his companions by his boldness, even if he did little 
 execution. When, after a two hours' fight, the Indians took to 
 flight, they left behind a deep impression on the mind of the 
 young Ranger. A month or two afterward Lee and fifteen com 
 panions, under command of Ben McCullough, were sent out on 
 a scout. Falling in with the trail of seven hundred Comanches, 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 
 
 863 
 
 the little party of spies remained a respectful distance and shad 
 owed their movements. The Rangers were compelled to behold 
 from afar the sack and burning of the village of Lindville. 
 Meanwhile a call had been sent for re-enforcements, and the 
 scouts, who never let the enemy get out of their sight, were 
 joined by recruits, the fighting force numbering three hundred 
 
 jgFjp^ 
 
 THE RANGERS PURSUING THE COMANCHES. 
 
 men. The object of an attack was not merely to, punish the 
 Indians, but to rescue seven white women, who had been taken 
 captive. These latter were rightly conjectured to be in the rear 
 of the camp with the old men. One detachment was to move 
 around to the rear and release the women if possible, while the 
 men fought from the front. 
 
 The first company arrived within view of their victims. The 
 Indians observed them at the same instant. In a moment the 
 
864 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 red devils could be seen running toward the foot of a tree where 
 sat the seven captive women. The Rangers heard despairing 
 shrieks and saw the waving of white arms in the air, in the 
 frenzy of supplication. Above the heads of the crowd could 
 be seen tomahawks rising and falling. Horrified at the sight, 
 the men rode at full speed into the Indian camp. The murder 
 ers had fled, leaving behind the corpses of five of their prison 
 ers. In their hurry they failed to dispatch the two remain 
 ing women. These were rescued by the Rangers with tender 
 gallantry. 
 
 While this was taking place Lee, fighting with the other 
 detachment, received a bullet in his left arm, causing him to 
 drop his bridle rein. His spirited horse sprang forward, directly 
 in the midst of the Indians. Perceiving their comrade's danger, 
 the Rangers threw themselves upon the Indians, and in a hand 
 to hand conflict almost exterminated their foes. A little later 
 Lee joined a company of Rangers, under the famous Jack Hays, 
 at San Antonio. 
 
 In the intervals between scouting expeditions against the 
 Mexicans, the Rangers occupied themselves with hunting and 
 watching for Indian trails. One morning, while eating breakfast 
 in their camp, on a short point of land at the intersection of 
 Walker's Creek and the Guadaloupe River, the men discovered 
 two Indians on the top of a high hill, near where they were en 
 camped. It was evident that the men were in a trap. Hays 
 called them together, and in a few ringing words explained the 
 peril, then ordered them to follow him. He took his way 
 directly up the hill toward the Indians, who were still watching 
 the Rangers' movements with eager scrutiny. When half-way 
 up the ascent, the savages suddenly disappeared. The same 
 instant Hays wheeled his horse sharply to the right, and, fol 
 lowed by his men, swept around the side of the mountain at 
 the top of his speed. 
 
 The Indian camp, containing two hundred warriors, was 
 taken completely by surprise. They fought boldly, but at a 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 865 
 
 disadvantage. At the first charge of the Rangers one of them, 
 known as Big Sam Taylor, received an arrow through his cheek 
 and neck. Failing to withdraw it he broke it off, and fought 
 through the entire engagement with the cruel shaft thrust 
 through his flesh. Later in the fight, when the dead Indians 
 were heaped thickly upon the ground, Hays discovered a 
 wounded chief, and resolved to take him captive. As the 
 white man approached, he perceived a quick movement on the 
 part of the Indian, and jumped aside. At the same instant an 
 arrow sped from the bow of a fallen red man, and, missing Hays, 
 buried itself in the throbbing heart of a Ranger named Mott. 
 Even when assailed by several of his enemies, the stern old 
 warrior, in spite of his broken leg, fought like a lion, beating 
 off his foes again and again, until a pistol ball ended his strug 
 gles. When the battle was over, the Rangers found three of 
 their men dead and four wounded. Of the Indians ninety 
 corpses lay on the ground in the majesty of death. 
 
 On the way back to San Antonio after this fight, Lee dis 
 mounted with the rest one evening on the bank of a small 
 stream. As his feet struck the ground, he heard a loud rattle 
 in the grass, and instantly felt a fearful pain in his right leg. 
 He was bitten by a rattlesnake. A Spaniard in the party 
 sprang forward, killed the monster snake, and quickly cutting 
 pieces of flesh from its wriggling body, applied them to the 
 wound. Lee says he could feel them draw. The prompt treat 
 ment saved his life. 
 
 Arriving near San Antonio, the Rangers were enraged to 
 find the town in the possession of a band of Mexican guerrillas. 
 Entering the place at night, the Rangers surrounded a house 
 where large numbers of the enemy were enjoying themselves in 
 a grand fandango. A horrible fight ensued, which freed ^the town 
 from the band of ruffians. 
 
 On one occasion, Lee left his magnificent horse, the Black 
 Prince, at the town of Seguin. After an absence of some days 
 he returned, to find that Indians had taken nearly every horse 
 
866 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 in the village, including the noble animal which he loved better 
 than his life. Lee and a party of friends, mounted on mules, 
 set out to make a reprisal. They traveled nearly all day, with 
 out success, when a black speck was discovered far away on the 
 prairie. It attracted attention, and every eye was strained to 
 watch the object. It grew larger. It came nearer. In time 
 it could be seen to move. A little later, it assumed the outline 
 of an animal. Two men declared that it was a horse. This 
 conjecture proved correct. The animal, without rein or rider, 
 was coming toward them at the top of its speed. In a little 
 while the Black Prince, with mane and tail flying, eyes ablaze, 
 nostrils distended, his black coat covered with flecks of white 
 foam, dashed into the camp and, panting for breath, stopped by 
 his owner's side. He had broken from his captors and traveled 
 more than a hundred miles to rejoin his master. 
 
 One day Lee met Hays in San Antonio, and learned that 
 Christolphe Rublo, in boyhood a vicious vagabond, in manhood 
 a desperate villain, had been in the town as a spy for the Mex 
 icans. He was suspected to have gone to the mission of San 
 Juan, nine miles down the river. A band of twenty Rangers 
 galloped to the place. The great gates swung open, and Lee 
 and the rest entered. Rublo concealed himself behind the gates 
 and attempted to escape, but fell into a ditch and was captured. 
 He was taken to San Antonio, the people of which demanded 
 the execution of the ruffian. 
 
 Jack Hays, however, declared that Lee and his fellow 
 Rangers should conduct the prisoner to the town of Seguin, 
 which was entitled to deal with him as its citizens wished, on 
 account of Ruble's outrages upon them. The dispute over this 
 question well-nigh involved the fiery Texans in a fight. 
 
 In the afternoon, Rublo and his fellow-villain, called the 
 Ranchero, were brought out, placed upon horses, and marched 
 from the town between files of shaggy Rangers. The argu 
 ments of the San A.ntonio people, that they would be in great 
 danger if the Rangers left them to take the two prisoners to- 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 867 
 
 Seguin, contained great truth. In this emergency the fertile 
 mind of Hays devised a stratagem. 
 
 After leaving San Antonio and following the road toward 
 Seguin till after nightfall, Lee and a companion named Escue, in 
 whose special charge the two prisoners were, gradually fell to 
 the rear of the Rangers, and then, under cover of darkness, 
 turned sharply to the right, abandoning all roads and trails, and, 
 with their two captives, struck out into the open plain. Mean 
 while, the main body of Rangers wheeled about and marched 
 back to San Antonio. Lee and his companion wrapped them 
 selves and their prisoners in dark buffalo skins to avoid obser 
 vation by the Mexican horsemen who were scouring the coun 
 try, and hurried across the plain through a blinding rain. 
 
 Sometime after midnight a halt was called. Lee took Rublo 
 from his pony, bound him hand and foot, and, with cocked 
 pistol in hand, sat down by his side. The desperado knew 
 that, unless he escaped, the outraged citizens of Seguin would, 
 on the next day, take his life. Lee says that, for his part, he 
 was perfectly well aware that, if Rublo should escape from 
 him, the same citizens of Seguin would take his own life for 
 permitting the escape. With this understanding, let us proceed. 
 
 Escue, who had charge of the Ranchero, selected a spot for 
 passing the night some rods distant from Lee. His prisoner 
 covered himself up with buffalo skins, and apparently fell into 
 a deep sleep. Escue tied the halter of his horse to his ankle, 
 believing this would keep him awake. In spite of this he went 
 to sleep. The cunning Ranchero slipped out of his bonds, care 
 fully arranged his hat among the buffalo skins, so that to the 
 casual eye he was seen to be still lying there, took the halter 
 off of Escue's horse and tied it to the limb of a tree, mounted 
 and rode away. 
 
 In the morning Lee discovered a band of Mexicans approach 
 ing. The moment was critical. Escue's own horse was gone. 
 The one left by the Ranchero was a broken down animal, use 
 less for escape. The pony on which Rublo was mounted was a 
 
868 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 good one. Lee instantly made up his mind. He drew his 
 revolver, shot his prisoner through the heart, yelled to Escue 
 to mount the pony from which the lifeless desperado had 
 fallen, and the two men began their flight, in which they were 
 successful. 
 
 Lee and Escue brought word to San Antonio of the approach 
 of the Mexicans. The Rangers fought a hard battle on the 
 banks of Salado Creek. This invasion of the Mexicans, under 
 General Woll, raised a popular clamor for a counter expedition 
 against Mexico. 
 
 In the fall of 1842 the government of Texas gave a reluc 
 tant consent for the expedition. Twelve or fifteen hundred 
 men, "renegades, refugees from justice, adventurers of all sorts, 
 ready for any enterprise that afforded a reasonable prospect of 
 excitement and plunder, dare-devils, afraid of nothing under the 
 sun," assembled at- San Antonio. General Somerville, who was 
 placed in command, proved to be incompetent. He delayed 
 marching for two months. Great numbers of the recruits de 
 serted. When, finally, the Rio Grande was reached, various 
 reasons induced Somerville to order a retreat of the expedition. 
 Three hundred men, of which Lee was one, refused to obey. 
 Somerville and the rest returned to their homes, but these bold 
 fellows determined to push on into the enemy's country. 
 
 On the 23d of December, 1842, about two o'clock in the 
 morning, the three hundred Rangers entered the town of Mier, 
 and commenced a street fight in the darkness with the Mexican 
 troops. Some of the Rangers^ with crowbars and picks, were 
 busily engaged in breaking openings through the stone walls of 
 the buildings, and thus making their way toward the square, 
 where the Mexicans were posted. The fight lasted many hours. 
 In this battle Big Foot Wallace, whose adventures we detail 
 hereafter, had a narrow escape. In one of the charges he fol 
 lowed a party of retreating Mexicans too far. They suddenly 
 turned upon him, and in a flash surrounded him, rendering 
 escape apparently impossible. He made a lunge at an opening 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 869 
 
 in the circle of enemies, threw one man down, and, receiving a 
 bayonet-thrust through his left arm, succeeded in escaping. 
 
 At two o'clock in the afternoon there was a cessation of 
 hostilities. The Mexicans sent out a flag of truce. For rea 
 sons never fully understood a surrender was made by the Tex- 
 ans. Both Lee and Wallace agree that this was a mistake. 
 
 At the moment of the surrender, Lee, with ten companions, 
 occupied a house at some distance from the main body. Notic 
 ing that the firing had ceased, Lee slipped out into the street 
 to a point where he commanded a view of the Square, and dis 
 covered the Texans marching up and laying down their arms. 
 Hurrying back to his comrades, he explained the situation in a 
 few short words, announced his determination to die rather than 
 be taken to a Mexican prison, and suiting the act to the word, 
 leaped through a back window. He found himself in a large 
 garden, and discovering a clump of high weeds, he crawled into 
 their midst, remaining there till nightfall. 
 
 As soon as he felt safe in so doing, he left his hiding-place, 
 stealthily made his way out of the town, and in half an hour 
 found himself alone in the darkness on the banks of the rush 
 ing Rio Grande. Arranging his clothes in a bundle, and carry 
 ing his rifle, he plunged into the river. For a long time he 
 swam. It seemed impossible to reach the opposite shore. Just 
 as his strength was about to give way completely, Lee discov 
 ered the outline of the land. Putting forth all remaining 
 strength, he managed to reach it only to find a . perpendicular 
 bluff, affording him not the slightest point of support. After a 
 few faint and ineffectual struggles to clamber out of the water, 
 he fell back into the waves, and floated hopelessly and help 
 lessly down the tide. 
 
 At last he came within reach of a tree, which had been 
 blown down and extended over the water. By means of this 
 he clambered on to the shore, only to find himself in the midst 
 of the prickly pear, of which the needle-like thorns lacerated 
 his bleeding feet and limbs at every step. Exercising all the 
 
870 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 time in order to resist the cold of a stiff norther, he passed a 
 miserable night. 
 
 In the morning, the unhappy man discovered a column of 
 smoke apparently rising from a camp fire about a mile away. 
 He at once made his way to the spot, crawling through the 
 grass, and discovered two Mexican herdsmen, one a youth, the 
 other a man of forty years. 
 
 Lee had pluck, and knew the Mexican character thoroughly. 
 The two herdsmen were eating their breakfast. Near by stood 
 their guns and ammunition. With an unloaded revolver in one 
 hand, and a bowie knife in the other, the Ranger sprang out of 
 the bushes and shouted for the Mexicans to surrender. The 
 terrified herdsmen at once fell on their knees with a prayer for 
 mercy. 
 
 Having compelled the youth to bind the man hand and foot, 
 and having secured their guns and ammunition, Lee calmly 
 proceeded to devour the breakfast which the herdsmen had pre 
 pared for themselves. Refreshed by the food, he proceeded to 
 talk the situation over with his friends, and told them, that if 
 they would guide him to a certain trail, he would set them free. 
 The bargain was struck. After a three days' journey, during 
 which time he did not suffer himself to sleep a moment, Lee 
 found himself in a region where he no longer needed a guide. 
 He took one of the Mexicans' guns, placed it at the foot of a 
 tree with a lot of ammunition, called their attention particularly 
 to the spot, and then ordered them to proceed as before. 
 When the party had marched five miles from the spot where 
 the gun had been left, Lee turned his prisoners loose, telling 
 ,them that the gun and ammunition were to enable them to kill 
 game on their way back. Lee made his way home without 
 trouble. 
 
 Lee took an active part in the war of the United States 
 with Mexico. His adventures during this war we will not here 
 relate. He subsequently engaged in the cattle business, and in 
 1855 joined with a company of men in an enterprise, the object 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 871 
 
 of which was to purchase a large drove of mules and drive them 
 overland to the San Francisco market. 
 
 Among the articles which Lee purchased as an equipment 
 for this trip was an enormous silver watch. It contained an 
 alarm of remarkable noise and duration, which could be regu 
 lated to go off at any moment, and while ringing the alarm, the 
 watch would actually move across a table. 
 
 The company was made up and commenced its march, large 
 purchases of mules being made from time to time, and the easy 
 journeys day by day gradually carrying them far beyond the 
 boundaries of the settlements. On the evening of the 2d of 
 April they were encamped in a beautiful valley. The hunters 
 brought in some capital game, and a neighboring stream fur 
 nished lovely trout. After an abundant meal the men one by one 
 went to sleep. Lee was on watch till midnight, when he was 
 relieved. At that hour there were no indications of danger. 
 The only sound which disturbed the profound silence of nature, 
 was the irregular tinkle of the horses' bells. 
 
 Lee had been asleep but a short time when he was roused 
 by a fearful shriek. He sprang to his feet, only to discover 
 that the camp was full of painted Indians, who were killing the 
 white men one after another. Lee had taken but a swift glance 
 at the scene of horror, lit up by the dull glow of the dying 
 camp-fire, when a lasso was thrown over his head, and he was 
 jerked violently to the ground. A moment later several In 
 dians sprang upon him and bound him. Three others besides 
 Lee, named Thomas Martin, Stewart, and Aikens, escaped the 
 massacre, and were bound similarly to Lee. 
 
 In removing Lee's clothing, one of the Indians discovered the 
 silver watch which we have mentioned. The savage was 
 delighted at the bright toy. While regarding it with the 
 greatest curiosity, the minute-hand reached half-past three. At 
 that instant the alarm went off. The savage was dumfounded 
 as the thing roared and rattled for two minutes. Frightened 
 beyond measure, he held the thing at arm's length, seemingly 
 
872 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 too much paralyzed by fear to let it drop, and looked away 
 from it with an expression of sickly horror on his face. The 
 other Indians quickly gathered about him. When the alarm 
 ceased they began an unintelligible jabber. The first Indian 
 pointed repeatedly to Lee, and finally the crowd of savages 
 came toward him, and offered him the watch, with various ges 
 tures indicating that they wanted to hear it go off again. 
 
 The Ranger saw his advantage. His hands were unbound. 
 He took the watch and, with many ceremonies and great solem 
 nity, regulated it, so that in a few moments it went off again. 
 After this the Indians had a long consultation. From their 
 frequent gestures toward the sky, Lee divined that they 
 regarded it as something supernatural and himself as some sort 
 of a prophet. 
 
 When morning broke, the chief put the watch carefully 
 away, and the Indians gave their attention once more to the 
 white men's camp. The corpses of the poor fellows who had 
 been murdered in their sleep were horribly mutilated. Some 
 had arms and hands chopped off; some were disemboweled; 
 some had their tongues drawn out and sharp sticks thrust 
 through them. Toward the four men who were yet alive, the 
 Indians behaved frightfully, flourishing tomahawks about their 
 heads and pressing the blades of glittering knives against their 
 throats as if unable to resist the fierce passion for murder. 
 
 At last the four prisoners were blindfolded and bound on 
 the backs of mules. These animals were unbridled, and were 
 left to follow the bell-mare at their own sweet will. At times 
 the mules would knock their blindfolded riders against trees, 
 inflicting fearful wounds. Each accident of this sort made the 
 whole party of Indians yell with delight. 
 
 As evening approached, the hideous Comanches selected a 
 camping-ground. A supper was made from horse-flesh. When 
 the Indians had satisfied their own hunger, they tossed chunks 
 of frying meat at the prisoners. These fiery bits, on which 
 the fat was often ablaze, instead of being caught in their mouths, 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 873 
 
 fell on the naked legs of the white men, burning them severely. 
 The prisoners were put to bed in a peculiar fashion. They 
 were laid on their backs on the ground, their hands and feet 
 extended as widely as possible, and fastened stiffly with buffalo 
 thongs to four stakes conveniently driven in the ground. To 
 say that they were unable to move hand or foot is to speak 
 the literal truth. For several days they continued on their 
 journey, butted against trees by the rascally mules, burnt 
 with hot horse-flesh, and staked out at night in the fashion 
 indicated. 
 
 Lee kept his thoughts busy, reflecting how he might take 
 advantage of the incident of the watch. By the time he 
 reached the Indian village he had matured in his own mind 
 a unique system of theology, which he determined to teach 
 the Indians if possible. The sun, as the Indians already be 
 lieved, was God. The watch, in Lee's new theology, was the 
 brother of the sun, and on most intimate terms with him. The 
 revolution of the hands each day, Lee determined to make the 
 Indians believe had a mysterious and sympathetic connection 
 with the movement of the sun. Finally, it remained to con 
 vince the savages that Lee himself was the Great Spirit of 
 the watch, and that if any thing happened either to him or to 
 it, it would also destroy the sun. 
 
 Lee was taken to the house of the chief. Ordinarily a pris 
 oner was the chief object of attention in the village. But on 
 this occasion the watch was the favorite by heavy odds. A 
 council was called. The watch was brought forth. After long 
 and vociferous speeches the Indian sages pointed significantly to 
 Lee and' to the watch, desiring him to make it sound the alarm. 
 Lee, pious fraud as he was, kneeled down, put up his hands 
 toward the sun, as if in the attitude of prayer, then worked 
 with the watch, pretending to persuade it to go, and finally rose 
 to his feet, shook his head solemnly, and pointed to the sun as 
 if to indicate that the celestial being prevented the watch from 
 going off. 
 
874 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Later in the day Lee, who was rapidly rising in importance 
 in popular opinion, was taken by a strong guard to a spot out 
 side of the village, where a large crowd had already assembled. 
 Here he found his friends Martin, Stewart, and Aikens, each 
 drawn up and tied to pairs of posts, planted three feet apart. 
 Some terrible ceremony was taking place. The Indians formed 
 in a circle about the wretched men and deliberately scalped 
 Stewart and Martin. Then they took sharp arrow-heads and 
 made gashes in the bodies of the two men. This "they contin- 
 tinued until every inch of the bodies of the unhappy men was 
 haggled and hacked and scarified and covered with clotted blood." 
 The two men screamed out in their agony, begging that they 
 might be put to death. Lee and Aikens, sickened beyond meas 
 ure, shut their eyes to keep out the horrid sight. The Indians 
 did not neglect to pull their hair and flourish knives and 
 hatchets about their heads as if to impress them that the fate 
 of Stewart and Martin would shortly be theirs. 
 
 After two hours of torture the ring of warriors stopped 
 dancing, formed closely about Stewart and Martin, and, at an 
 appointed signal, a score of tomahawks were buried in the brain 
 of each prisoner. When the scene of slaughter was ended, Lee 
 and Aikens were separated. 
 
 From this time on he longed only for death. One day his 
 bonds were removed. Hoping only to exasperate his captors 
 into killing him outright, he picked up. a clujb and tried to kill 
 the nearest Indian. Instead of attaining the desired result, he 
 found the savages only laughed at him. Not a day passed that 
 the Indians did not beseech Lee to make the watch go off. 
 Through all these requests he maintained a sullen and obsti 
 nate refusal. 
 
 One day Aikens was unexpectedly brought into the tent 
 where Lee was kept, and the two men had a talk. Aikens, 
 who was thoroughly familiar with Indian character and customs, 
 told Lee that he himself was shortly to be put to death, but 
 that he believed that Lee might yet escape through the instru- 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 875 
 
 mentality of the watch, if, instead of being sullen and stubborn, 
 he would comply with the Indians' wishes, and exert himself to 
 win their favor. 
 
 Lee took the advice, In time he was adopted into the tribe. 
 He had long since lost sight of Aikens, and indeed never learned 
 his fate. Little by little, Lee won their confidence, and acquired 
 more and more liberty. He was allowed no weapons, but was 
 permitted to walk about the village. 
 
 One day, Lee was suddenly ordered to mount a big mule, 
 and follow Big Wolf, the chief. A band of warriors accompanied 
 them. They traveled all day. At evening, Lee hastened to 
 cook Big Wolfs supper. He had, indeed, for a long time, been 
 his servant. During this whole period, the chief never took a 
 mouthful of food until after Lee had tasted it, a precaution 
 against poison. 
 
 At the close of the second day, they reached the village of 
 the great chief, Spotted Leopard. Lee took an instinctive dis 
 like to this chief and his people. Among the latter, however, 
 was one who was his friend. She was Kianceta, the Weasel. 
 Of her Lee speaks with enthusiam. She was of slender and 
 beautiful figure, graceful and dignified. Her weird costume, with 
 its gay embroidery and bead work, was partly obscured by her 
 coal black hair, which fell in luxuriant profusion half-way to 
 the ground. 
 
 But Kianceta's spirit was even fairer than her form. "She 
 sympathized with the poor captive, when others laughed at him. 
 She sat down by his side and looked up sorrowfully into his 
 face, when the young savages of the village beat him with 
 stones and sticks. A hundred times she stood between him 
 and those who threatened harm; gave him corn when others 
 had it not; attended him when sick, casting red-hot stones 
 into a trough of water to make him a steam bath, and wrapping 
 him with thick buffalo skins, until his cold was broken up and 
 his health restored." 
 
 In spite of the charms of Kianceta, Lee furtively watched 
 
876 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES A.ND ROMANCES. 
 
 his chances for escape. A half mile from the village was a 
 dark, wooded ravine, which if he could reach Lee believed 
 escape to be possible. After many nights passed in planning, 
 he resolved on the attempt. With the knife which he was at 
 
 SPOTTED LEOPARD, THE COMANCHE CHIEF. 
 
 this time permitted to carry he cut up some strips of venison 
 to serve him as food in his flight, and concealed the bundle of 
 them in a log. One midnight, when the village was asleep, and 
 Spotted Leopard snored loudly, on his royal couch, Lee slipped 
 quietly from the tent, made his way quietly to the log where 
 
HEROES OF TJSE LONE STAR STATE. 877 
 
 his venison was hidden, secured the precious pack and started 
 to leave the village. He had reached the outer row of wigwams, 
 when he was startled by the growl of a big dog, which con 
 fronted him, showing his white teeth. 
 
 In a moment the bark was caught up and answered by an 
 other cur at the farther end of the village. Others still disturbed 
 the midnight air with fierce barks and lugubrious howls. On 
 they came, one after another, with growls and snarls, to the 
 spot where poor Lee stood, half dead with fright. It was but a 
 moment from the time when the first dog discovered him until 
 he found himself surrounded on all sides by barking curs. 
 
 Another danger also appeared. The village was roused by 
 the unusual disturbance among the dogs, and sleepy warriors 
 could be heard, one after another, from their wigwams, cursing 
 the dogs, and telling them to lie down. Lee no longer thought 
 of flight, but only of avoiding discovery. He crawled back to 
 his tent and lay down, bitterly disappointed at his failure. 
 
 Still he did not give up. Days and weeks rolled by before 
 he matured another plan. Although he was ordered not to go 
 beyond the boundaries of the village, he disregarded the com 
 mand, and ventured out from day to day, each time going a 
 little farther. At first he was often told to go back. Then his 
 disobedience was less and less noticed. Finally no one inter 
 fered with him at all. 
 
 One evening, just at dark, he started off in a slow, care 
 less walk toward the ravine. He had gone a considerable dis 
 tance when three warriors suddenly confronted him. He pre 
 tended to be cutting a stick from some bushes on which to 
 cook his master's meat. The trick was too thin. The suspi 
 cions of the Indians were aroused. They seized him roughly 
 by the arm and marched him back to the village. They 
 reported the occurrence to Spotted Leopard. A long and ear 
 nest consultation was had, at the close of which the chief came 
 out, seized Lee, and jerked him forcibly into the wigwam. 
 After binding the runaway, hand and foot, the Indian rolled up 
 
 49 
 
878 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 his leggins and deliberately slashed a sharp knife across the 
 muscle on the front of his leg just below the knee. This sur 
 gical operation was designed to cripple Lee, so escape would 
 be impossible. The white man was kept tied for two weeks. 
 Every day Spotted Leopard would seize his leg and work it 
 back and forth, breaking open the wound anew. Eventually 
 the limb healed, but was permanently stiff. 
 
 From time to time, Lee accompanied Spotted Leopard and 
 his people on long hunts around the head-waters of the Guada- 
 loupe. Once they had a fierce battle with the Apaches. Lee 
 prayed that the Comanches might be whipped, but in this he 
 was disappointed. On another occasion, they were visited by 
 a friendly tribe, with a chief named Rolling Thunder. This 
 Indian was naturally reverent. He was more fond of wor 
 shiping the sun on his knees than of dancing the war-dance. 
 Such a character is unusual among the Indians. Lee was called 
 out to give an exhibition with his watch, which he did, with 
 marked effect, the pious Rolling Thunder ascribing every thing 
 wonderful to some supernatural power. 
 
 Another party of Indians, on another occasion, encamped 
 near them. In the afternoon Lee noticed an unusual stir among 
 Spotted Leopard's people, which ended in the whole party's 
 moving down toward the neighboring camp of the strangers. 
 Lee felt something unusual was going to happen. Breathless 
 with suspense, he listened. Presently a human voice rang out 
 through the air in one awful scream of agony. At intervals it 
 was repeated, growing feebler and feebler. An hour or two 
 later, some Indians came after Lee, and took him through the 
 strangers' camp. Scattered around he saw torn fragments of 
 the uniform of a United States soldier. A few steps farther 
 on, Lee saw the remains of the soldier. A stick had been 
 thrust under his heel cords, and he had been hung up head 
 downward, until at last, bleeding from many wounds, he gave 
 up the ghost. No doubt he had been captured near some 
 army post. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 879 
 
 One day Lee discovered three white women captives of 
 another band of the same tribe. It was months before he 
 could speak to them. At last, on the occasion of a great feast 
 and dance he was enabled to do so. They were English by 
 birth. A Mormon missionary had induced them to leave their 
 home, and, with a party of two hundred others, come to Amer 
 ica. After a long voyage from England, they had landed at 
 Indianola, on Matagorda Bay. From that point, their way 
 lay overland to the Great Salt Lake. On the journey through 
 the mountains many of the teams gave out. The party became 
 separated. The Indians became troublesome, and finally cap 
 tured large numbers, among whom were these three women. 
 Lee felt a burning interest in this story of the misfortunes of 
 these poor creatures, compared to which his own, inasmuch as 
 he was at best an adventurer, were trifling. 
 
 After their capture the men were massacred. Mrs. Has- 
 kin's infant child was seized by an Indian, a hole cut under 
 its chin, and then hung on the sharp limb of a tree, and left 
 until death should relieve it. The three women wera the com 
 mon drudges of the camp. The elder, the mother of the others, 
 becoming too feeble to work, was, soon after Lee met her, put 
 to death by torture. 
 
 The pious Rolling Thunder made visits of increasing fre 
 quency to Spotted Leopard, which resulted at last in a change 
 of masters for Lee. The chief use which Rolling Thunder 
 made of his new captive was to make him describe the won 
 ders of the world and of civilization. 
 
 Before long he invited Lee to choose a wife. To this the 
 white man assented, and, after a careful inspection of the entire 
 tribe, chose a young and slender squaw, rather dirty but good- 
 looking, known as the Sleek Otter. The marriage resulted hap 
 pily, and Lee received increased privileges. 
 
 During Lee's residence with this tribe tw"o young warriors, 
 who had a fierce quarrel of long standing, which the council 
 had again and again attempted to settle, determined to fight 
 
880 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the matter to the death. Both men were athletic and powerful. 
 They met in the center of a ring, and their left arms, as far up 
 as the elbow, were lashed together with buffalo hide so firmly 
 that there was no possibility of the men breaking away from 
 each other. In the right hand of each was placed a hunting 
 knife with a sharp blade nine inches long. The brothers of the 
 combatants stood at a little distance, similarly armed. 
 
 At a given signal the two men raised their bright blades in 
 air, then brought them down suddenly. In an instant they 
 were again uplifted, no longer bright, but crimsoned with blood. 
 For a minute the knives rose and fell incessantly, the men 
 struggling with fury. "At length a mortal thrust by one was 
 followed by a fierce blow from the other, gashing through the 
 side of the neck, from which the purple tide of life spouted up 
 in a wide, high arch, when both fell lifeless to the ground." 
 Had either survived, the brother of the other would have at 
 once put him to death. 
 
 Lee took many trips with Rolling Thunder, but on no occa 
 sion did the chief sleep alone with him in the tent. At last 
 they took a three days' journey together without a companion 
 toward a village, three days' journey to the north. While at 
 this place the chief got drunk, and on the way home was ex 
 ceedingly thirsty. After a long search a little pool of water was 
 discovered. He ordered Lee to get him a drink in his hunting 
 horn. The latter being unable to do this without scooping up 
 considerable mud, the thirsty Indian sprang from his horse, 
 threw down his rifle, and lying flat on the ground, drank eagerly 
 from the pool. On the spur of the moment, as Lee's eye caught 
 sight of a hatchet hanging on the Indian's saddle, a fearful 
 thought burst upon him. In a moment the idea was put into 
 execution. Snatching the hatchet, he bent over, and deliber 
 ately buried it in the Indian's head. 
 
 It was the work of a moment to seize the dead chief's gun 
 and knife, mount his horse, and, leading the mule which he had 
 himself ridden, dash away across the country. It was a lonely 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. x 881 
 
 journey through a lonely wilderness, across rocky ridges, and 
 along dark ravines. Late at night he paused for the first time. 
 His only resource in the way of food was to kill the mule. 
 Building a small fire he prepared himself a meal from the meat. 
 Though refreshed by eating, a new horror presented itself. 
 The blood and smell of the animal was scented by wild beasts, 
 which crashed through the forest with horrid cries throughout 
 the night. 
 
 At the end of fifty-six days' travel, Lee fell in with some 
 Mexican traders, and, more dead than alive, was kindly cared 
 for. When he had sufficiently recovered he left Texas, having 
 had enough of life as a Ranger. 
 
882 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE, CONTINUED. 
 BIG FOOT WALLACE. BOWIE'S FIGHT. 
 
 ILLIAM A. WALLACE, who now resides on a 
 ranche, near San Antonio, must be nearly sev 
 enty years old. He is six feet two inches tall, 
 a thorough Texan. The name by which he is 
 best known and which we have placed at the 
 head of this sketch, was given him on account 
 of his enormous feet. The fact that he is yet 
 alive, having survived the stormy and turbulent 
 period of the history of Texas, and lives to see it rapidly 
 advancing to the front rank among the states of the Union r 
 must be attributed to fortune. All, or nearly all his old com 
 panion Rangers who were with him in terrible expeditions, in 
 cruel captivity, in fierce adventures, are gone. Many fell in bat 
 tle long years ago. Of the few who chanced to escape a death 
 by violence, many have breathed their last in lonely ranches 
 where their closing days were spent. 
 
 The day of the Texan Ranger has long since departed. The 
 troubles with Mexico ceased to exist many years ago. Since the 
 time when the shaggy Rangers dashed across the country on 
 their bold expeditions, fighting, killing, capturing, retreating, 
 many changes have come to pass in Texas. While, no doubt, 
 her vast and lonely expanses of territory yet contain many bold 
 and desperate men, the Ranger, as such, is a character which 
 lives only in history. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 883 
 
 Big Foot Wallace was born in Virginia. When he was 
 twenty years of age, about the year 1836, he turned up in 
 Texas, attracted to that point, like Lee, and many another bold 
 young spirit of the eastern states, who had in his veins the 
 blood of the old pioneers and Indian fighters. 
 
 Soon after Wallace's arrival in Texas he fell in with a sur 
 veyor who was preparing for an expedition to locate lands on 
 the frontier. The surveyor offered Wallace employment, telling 
 him that as the rest of the party were all old frontiersmen, it 
 was well enough to have one greenhorn along for the fun 
 of the thing. 
 
 The party consisted of sixteen men, including a hunter and 
 a cook. On the first day out, Wallace killed a deer. He says, 
 "I thought I had performed a wonderful feat, for I had never 
 killed any thing before larger than a squirrel or a 'possum, and 
 I proudly returned to the camp with the deer on my shoulders, 
 trying all the time though, to look as if the killing of a deer 
 was no unusual thing with me. But the boys suspected me, 
 and when I owned up that it was the first deer I had ever 
 shot, they seized me and smeared my face with the blood of 
 the animal." This bit of camp fun was a sort of an initiation 
 of Wallace into the brotherhood of hunters. 
 
 When the expedition reached the last white settlement 
 which the men were to see for many a day, Wallace had another 
 taste of the fun which is made of a greenhorn. The " settle 
 ment" consisted of a cabin of a family named Benson. Wal 
 lace's own account of the incident is as follows : " I went up to 
 this house to see if any thing in the way of vegetables could 
 be had. Benson was out hunting, but his wife, a tall, raw- 
 boned, hard-favored woman, as soon as she saw me ' coming, 
 stepped to the door with a gun in her hand, and told me to 
 6 stand ' and I stood ! A half-dozen little cotton-headed chil 
 dren, who who were playing in the yard, discovered me at this 
 moment, and they ' squandered ' and squatted in the bushes like 
 a gang of partridges. 
 
884 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 "'Who are you?' asked Mrs. Benson, pointing her gun right 
 at me, ' and what do you want here ?' 
 
 " ' I am from the settlements below, ma'am,' said I, as polite 
 as possible, but keeping a tree between the good lady and 
 myself all the time, for women, you know, are very awkward 
 about handling fire-arms, 6 and,' I continued, ' I want to buy 
 some vegetables, if you have any to sell.' 
 
 " ' Well,' she answered, ' come in. We hain't no vegetables 
 left now,' as I walked into the cabin and took a seat on a bench, 
 ' except cowcumbers and mushmillions, and maybe so, a few 
 " collards," the dratted " varmints " are so uncommon bad on 
 'em ; but, if you want any of them, you can go into the truck 
 patch and help yourself.' 
 
 "'You seem,' I ventured to remark, 'a little suspicious of 
 strangers in these parts, from the way you handled your gun.' 
 
 " ' Yes,' she said, ' I am, and a good reason to be so, too ! 
 Only last Saturday was a week, some Lonk Ingens, dressed up 
 like white folks, walked into 'Squire Henry's house, not more 
 than two miles from here, and killed and sculped the whole 
 family; but as luck would have it, there was nobody at home, 
 except the baby and an old nigger woman that nussed it. And 
 which way are you traveling to ?' she asked. 
 
 " I told her we were going up on the head-waters of the 
 Brazos to survey lands. ' Well,' says she, ' you '11 be luckier 
 than most every body else that has gone up there if you need 
 more than six feet apiece before you get back. If I was your 
 mammy, young man, you should n't go one step on such a wild 
 goose chase.' After some further questioning, she showed me 
 the way to the ' truck patch,' and, after filling my wallet with 
 6 mushmillions ' and ' cowcumbers,' I thanked her, as she would 
 take no pay. ' Good-bye, young man. I feel mighty sorry 
 for your mammy, for you'll never see her again." 3 
 
 A day or two later some of the men found a " bee tree," 
 which they cut down, getting five gallons of honey. Bear's 
 meat and honey is the frontiersman's choicest dish. As the 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 885 
 
 days advanced the little mountain streams, which they came 
 across, supplied the men with delicious trout. Besides this 
 they found artichokes in abundance, roasting the root in the 
 ashes like a potato. 
 
 There were numerous signs of both Indian and buffalo to be 
 seen by this time, but neither animal had yet been actually 
 perceived. One evening, after camp was struck, Big Foot, as 
 people now call him, went out to look around for game. He 
 was sitting on a log in a little ravine with his gun across his 
 lap, when, hearing a noise in some bushes, he turned around, 
 and discovered a large bear coming toward him. When the 
 animal was within twenty feet the hunter fired, and killed him. 
 This event, which supplied the camp with its favorite food, 
 greatly increased the reputation of the youngest member of the 
 company. On October 21st the party struck the Leon River, 
 opposite the mouth of Armstrong's Creek. Here they found a 
 splendid pecan grove. The nuts were very large and the hulls so 
 thin that the men easily crushed them in their fingers. 
 
 Following the course of Armstrong's Creek, the men pitched 
 camp one evening near a lovely spring. Toward midnight the 
 sleeping company was awakened by the report of a gun right 
 in their midst. Every man sprang to his feet, supposing Indians 
 were at hand. It transpired, however, that the man on guard 
 had fired his gun accidentally. So excited was Wallace by the 
 incident that it was a long time before he could go to sleep. 
 
 On the 23d of October, 1837, the explorers reached the 
 south branch of the Palo Rinto Creek, where the surveying 
 was to begin. A pleasant situation being chosen, all hands fell 
 to work to build a permanent camp, with walls, roof and floor. 
 This done, the men resolved to rest on the following day. Some 
 went fishing, others gathered pecans, others still busied them 
 selves fitting up little comforts about the camp. 
 
 Big Foot soon got tired of this, and taking his gun, resolved 
 to explore a little of the country around them. He strolled off 
 in the direction of a pass which seemed to penetrate the encir- 
 
886 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 cling range of hills. In a little while he reached the pass. 
 Right by it was a single hill, shaped like a sugar loaf, to the 
 top of which Big Foot climbed. This gave him a good view 
 of the valley in which they had encamped. A mile and a half 
 away he saw the snug little house which they had built for 
 th^ir shelter, the smoke rising from the camp fire, the animals 
 grazing about contentedly, and even three or four of the men sit 
 ting around smoking their pipes. As he looked upon the scene, 
 Big Foot felt a thrill of satisfaction to think they were so com 
 fortably quartered. Little did he think that it was the last time 
 he would ever look upon that camp. 
 
 He descended the hill and took his way up the pass, and, 
 after following it half a mile, found himself in a narrow valley 
 filled with a grove of the finest pecan trees. He was sitting at 
 the foot of one of the trees, leisurely cracking and eating the 
 nuts, when, looking down in the direction he had come, he saw 
 a party of twelve or fifteen Indians riding through the pass at 
 full speed. There was no chance for concealment where he was, 
 and the perpendicular sides of the valley prevented escape from 
 it. His only hope lay in hurrying up the valley until he could 
 reach some canon or ravine into which he might dodge. 
 
 He at once started up the pass or valley as fast as he could 
 go. When he had passed the pecan grove the Indians caught 
 sight of him, and with yells and whoops began pursuit. The 
 ground was broken and intersected with gullies, so that for a 
 half an hour the Indians on their ponies gained but little upon 
 Big Foot. 
 
 The young man hurried on, looking eagerly for some open 
 ing in the hills on either side, but the solid walls of rock were 
 unbroken. When he reached a place where the floor of the val 
 ley was smooth the Indians gained rapidly. Just in time to 
 save himself he discovered an opening in the wall of the pass on 
 the left, and made for it. He found himself in a ravine, impass 
 able for horses, and so rough that he himself could hardly get 
 along on foot. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 887 
 
 Aware that the Indians would dismount from their ponies 
 and continue the chase on foot, he continued his race up the 
 ravine, bounding from rock to rock and leaping chasms, until he 
 had traversed several miles, winding in and out along the dark 
 and crooked canon. 
 
 Feeling his strength somewhat abated, Big Foot paused for 
 the first time to take a rest. For this purpose he chose a spot 
 which commanded a view for several hundred yards along the 
 way which he had come. He had sat still but a little while, 
 when an Indian came in sight, making rapid time up the ravine. 
 Big Foot concealed himself behind a large rock, and, placing his 
 gun in position, resolved to shoot the savage if possible. 
 
 The Indian hurried along, unconscious of Wallace's where 
 abouts. When within twenty steps of Big Foot, the latter gave 
 a low whistle. The Indian instantly stopped, and gave a swift 
 and searching glance about him. He was just on the brink of 
 a fearful precipice. At that moment Big Foot fired. The sav 
 age, mortally wounded, with a cry of despair, threw one hand 
 to the wound in his side, and holding aloft his rifle in the other, 
 leaped over the fearful precipice. Before the echoes of his wild 
 scream had died away among the mountains, a terrific thud was 
 heard by Wallace, as the body of his enemy was dashed into 
 atoms upon the rocks far below. 
 
 Big Foot reloaded his rifle, and, fearful lest others might be 
 about, hurried on up the ravine. Half a mile farther he discov 
 ered another canon intersecting the one he was traversing. He 
 entered the latter and, though long since out of sight and sound 
 of the Indians, continued on his way, until it became so dark 
 that he was in danger of breaking his neck stumbling over the 
 rocks. Crawling into a little crevice, he lay down supperless, and 
 passed the night. On the following morning, he found himself 
 in a locality to which he was, of course, a total stranger. 
 
 To return by the way he had come was not to be thought of. 
 He determined to strike across the country in the direction in 
 which he thought the camp lay. His way lay over ridges of 
 
888 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 rocky hills, separated by canons and almost impassable even 
 for a man on foot. About noon, almost worn out, he reached 
 
 WALLACE KILLS HIS INDIAN PURSUER. 
 
 a little creek. He threw himself on the ground. In a few 
 moments he was thrilled with delight to discover a large buck 
 approaching the water to drink. Raising his rifle cautiously, for 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 889 
 
 he felt that his life depended on his success in killing the game, 
 Wallace fired. The animal bounded away as if unhurt. After 
 a few leaps he stopped short, began to reel from side to side, 
 and in a moment fell over dead. Wallace ran out and instantly 
 began to dress the buck, which was one of the fattest he ever 
 saw. After roasting a good lot of the meat and eating a hearty 
 dinner, he built a low scaffold of little poles, cut up a quantity 
 of the meat into thin slices, laid them across the poles, built a 
 fire underneath, and by dark had enough venison "jerked " to- 
 last him several days. 
 
 Looking about for a place to pass the night, he found a 
 small cave. Into this he carried a quantity of grass for a bed, 
 and here, also, he carefully stored his dried venison. He blocked 
 up the door of the cave with rocks, after going in himself, and 
 prepared to pass a comfortable night. In less than an hour 
 a heavy rain came up, accompanied by a cold wind. But Big 
 Foot slept snug in his cave, undisturbed alike by the storm 
 and by the howling of the wolves who were holding a cele 
 bration over the remains of the deer which he had killed. 
 When morning came Wallace found the rain had ceased, but 
 the sun was obscured by heavy clouds. Being then an inex 
 perienced woodsman, he had no way to tell the points of the 
 compass. Later in life, Big Foot says, he could tell the points 
 of the compass as well without as with the sun, by the bark 
 on the trees, which is thicker on the north side, or by stick 
 ing a pin into a piece of white cloth or paper. In the cloud 
 iest day the dim light will cast a faint shadow opposite the 
 sun, and thus point out its position. 
 
 However, our wanderer ate his breakfast and started in 
 what he supposed to be the right direction. His course as 
 before lay through a wilderness of rock. He continually found 
 impassable ravines and gulches in his way, forcing him to make 
 long detours. About noon he came to a pleasant spring, where 
 he ate his dinner. Near by, he picked up some round stones, 
 which proved to be garnets. A still greater curiosity was a. 
 
890 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 petrified forest. " The trees were all lying on the ground, as 
 if they had been blown down by a heavy wind, but in some 
 instances they were nearly whole, even the small twigs and 
 branches being petrified." 
 
 Continuing on his course through the day, Big Foot suffered 
 greatly from want of water. He was forced to go to sleep that 
 night without having found any. In the morning when he awoke 
 the first sound which his ear caught was that of the falling of 
 water. He ran in the direction of the sound, and discovered that 
 he had passed the night, almost crazy with thirst, not fifty yards 
 from the finest spring he had ever seen. It broke out of the 
 side of a cliff in a stream as large as his body, and fell in a beau 
 tiful cascade to the bottom of the ravine, twenty feet below. 
 
 Near the spring were the remains of two Indian camps. 
 Here Big Foot picked up a gourd, which the occupants of the 
 camp had left. As it would hold about two quarts, he regarded 
 it as a treasure of priceless value, enabling him to carry water 
 along with him. Taking some broad bands of bear-grass, he 
 made a bail with which to carry it. 
 
 While eating his breakfast, Wallace discovered some sort of 
 an animal poking its head out of a crevice in the rock and look 
 ing at him intently. At first it looked like a wolf. Then he saw 
 it was a dog. Pleased with the idea of companionship, Wal 
 lace whistled and called to the dog. To these "signs, it paid no 
 further heed than to continue to look wistfully from its hiding 
 place. Finally in response to the offer of a bit of meat, the dog 
 stole cautiously forward, and eagerly snatched the venison. 
 " He was " said Wallace, " the most wretched specimen of a dog 
 I had ever seen. Both of his ears were cut off close to his 
 head, and he had been starved to such a degree that he looked 
 for all the world like a pile of bones loosely packed in a sack 
 of hair and hide. He was too weak to hold his tail up, which 
 dragged on the ground like a wolf's." 
 
 The two wanderers soon made friends. Wallace named the 
 dog " Comanche ;" what the dog named Wallace does not appear. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 891 
 
 Henceforth they were inseparable. After traveling for a week, 
 the sun, shone out for the first time since the night passed in 
 the cave. To his dismay, Wallace discovered that he had been 
 traveling in exactly the wrong direction. He had been going north 
 instead of south. 
 
 At the end of the first day's journey southward, Wallace, 
 standing on the top of a high ridge, found himself overlooking 
 a beautiful little valley. He and Comanche at once made their 
 way thither. A cool spring of water was found, and near by, 
 in a ledge of rock, Wallace found a small cave, about twelve 
 feet square. The front had been walled up evidently by a 
 human hand, with a small entrance way left open. The floor 
 was smooth, dry rock, and no better protection from the weather 
 could be desired. A bed of dried grass made both the man and 
 dog comfortable. 
 
 Proceeding down the valley the next day, Wallace saw 
 plenty of deer and wild turkeys, but as he still had some veni 
 son he refrained from using his ammunition. In climbing a 
 hill, Wallace met with an unhappy accident. His foot slipped 
 on a loose stone, and he gave his ankle a terrible sprain. It 
 was impossible to bear the slightest weight upon it. It was 
 evident that he must remain where he was until the injured 
 member got well. 
 
 With great pain and difficulty Wallace crawled back to 
 where he had passed the night. He bathed his swollen limb 
 in the spring, and, suffering greatly, crawled into the cave. 
 While the prospect was not so bad as it might have been, inas 
 much as the accident might have occurred at a point where 
 no shelter was obtainable, nevertheless, Wallace felt that his 
 inability to hunt game and procure food rendered the emergency 
 one of great danger. 
 
 He slept somewhat through the night and was awakened in 
 the morning by the flapping of wild turkeys' wings. Crawling 
 to the door of the cave, he discovered several of the birds in a 
 clump of neighboring pecan trees. Selecting the largest gobbler, 
 
892 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Big Foot fired, bringing him down. Comanche understood the 
 situation perfectly. He bounded to the spot, seized the turkey 
 by the neck, and dragged it to the door of the cave. Wallace 
 dressed the bird nicely, spitted him on the ramrod of his gun, 
 and in two hours had him beautifully roasted. The remainder 
 of the day Wallace devoted to the manufacture of a rude crutch 
 out of the forked limb of a pecan tree. He had to whittle the 
 whole tree down in order to reach the branch. 
 
 Wallace was forced to remain where he was three weeks, 
 during which time he had an abundance of food, suffering only 
 from want of salt. On the 20th of November Big Foot felt 
 well enough to travel. Comanche, too, seemed ready. The 
 dog could not be recognized as the same wretched cur we have 
 described. He was fat, sleek, and his tail had a defiant curl. 
 Ten miles was all the distance Wallace was able to travel that 
 day. He killed a fat doe and found some artichokes, which he 
 relished exceedingly. He observed with some uneasiness the 
 presence of Indian signs. That night, too, Comanche woke him 
 several times with his growling. On these occasions his master, 
 supposing the wolves to be unusually bold, would simply say, 
 "Lie still, sir!" 
 
 Just at sunrise the dog again set up a furious barking, wak 
 ing his master. Wallace looked up to discover a dozen Indians 
 fifty yards away coming toward him on a dead run. He seized 
 his gun and jumped behind a tree, only to perceive that he was 
 completely surrounded. Just as he was on the point of firing 
 at the nearest Indian, the chief shouted to his braves, who 
 halted. He then stepped forward, and asked Wallace in the 
 Mexican tongue who he was. Big Foot explained as well as 
 he could by signs and a few phrases which he knew, that he 
 was an American and was lost. The chief motioned energetic 
 ally for him to put down his gun. Seeing that escape was 
 impossible Big Foot, in hopes that his life might be spared, 
 obeyed. The Indians at once sprang forward and bound Wal 
 lace. Comanche, however, had no notion of surrendering, and 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 893 
 
 at once went for the Indians who were tying his master. Nor 
 would he give up the fight until kicked and severely beaten. 
 
 The savages at once started with their prisoner down the 
 valley. After traveling five miles they reached their village, a 
 crowd of old men, women, and boys coming out to assault Big 
 Foot. He was placed in a lodge under guard. The next morn 
 ing a hideous, old squaw, with a face as wrinkled as a walnut, 
 brought him his breakfast. Ugly as she was, Big Foot under 
 stood from her face and manner that she desired to be friendly. 
 
 After she left the lodge Big Foot heard a tremendous row 
 outside, and two warriors came in and painted him black. At 
 this point Big Foot gave up all hope of his life. When painted 
 from head to foot the savages led him out doors, where the 
 whole village was assembled, and proceeded to bind him firmly 
 to a post in the ground. Near by was a great heap of dry 
 wood. Twenty naked warriors, blacked from head to foot, 
 armed with tomahawks and scalping-knives, stood by in grim 
 silence, waiting to commence the death ceremony. 
 
 The chief now arose, and from a little platform he made a 
 speech to his people. Wallace says, " I could understand but 
 little of what he said, but it seemed to me, he was telling them 
 how the white people had encroached upon them, and stolen 
 from them their hunting grounds, and that it was a good deed 
 to burn every one of the hated race that fell into their hands." 
 
 The speech ended, the twenty black warriors commenced 
 piling up the wood about Wallace, while the rest executed a 
 wild death dance about him. Just at this moment the old 
 squaw, who had been so friendly to him in the lodge, broke 
 through the crowd and began to throw the wood from around 
 him, talking and gesticulating in the wildest manner. When they 
 seized her and threw her outside of the ring, she commenced a 
 shrill and voluble harangue to the crowd, in the midst of which 
 she frequently pointed to the prisoner, and boldly shook her fist, 
 with horrid jabbering, at his would-be executioners. 
 
 As the old woman proceeded with her harangue she gained 
 
 50 
 
894 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 more and more attention from the crowd, seeing which, her vio 
 lence and energy redoubled itself. Her voice broke with the 
 fury of her passion, but still she kept on with ear-piercing 
 screams and howls, which rose higher and higher, until they 
 formed a mighty wail, sounding far down the valley. By this 
 time the whole assemblage became perfectly silent. As the old 
 woman's strength was about to fail her, a great jabbering set up 
 in the crowd, in the midst of which a number of squaws ran to 
 the stake, and scolding the warriors all the while, quickly un 
 bound Wallace and handed him over to the old woman. 
 
 The singular scene grew out of the fact that the old squaw, 
 having lost a son in battle, claimed Big Foot as a substitute in 
 accordance with the custom of the tribe, but the warriors wanted 
 to have the fun of putting their prisoner to death. 
 
 Big Foot's adopted mother took him to her lodge with every 
 sign of gratified affection. In a little while the squaws brought 
 him his gun, knife, and gourd. Even Comanche was hunted up 
 and brought to him. The dog looked half starved and as if he 
 had been kicked by every boy in the village. Big Foot, with 
 cool adaptation to circumstances which no man ever had but a 
 genuine Texan Ranger, proceeded to ransack the wigwam for 
 cold victuals, and gave the dog every thing he found. 
 
 Besides the old squaw, Big Foot found a firm friend in her 
 remaining son, his adopted brother, Black Wolf. As time went 
 on, the chief wanted Big Foot to marry his sister, but the white 
 man told him that he preferred to live in the lodge with his 
 mother and brother. Black Wolf was an Indian of intelligence 
 and kindness. He never wearied of asking Big Foot about the 
 white race. All the information which Wallace gave him of 
 their numbers, their cities, their weapons, and their great 
 "steam canoes," strengthened him in his opinion, he said, that 
 the white man would gradually overrun the entire continent, 
 and that a few stone arrow-heads, thrown up here and there 
 by the farmer's plow, would be all that remained of the red 
 man's race. In this connection Black Wolf related to Big Foot 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 895 
 
 the following legend, which, he said, had been told him by 
 his father. 
 
 "A great many years ago," said Black Wolf, "a young chief, 
 belonging to one of the most powerful tribes of Arkansas, con 
 cluded that he would visit one of the nearest white settlements, 
 and see some of the people of whom he had heard so much. 
 So he took his gun and dog, and crossed the ' father of waters' 
 in his canoe, and traveled many days toward the rising of the 
 sun, through a dense forest that had never echoed to the sound 
 of the white man's ax. One day, just as the sun was setting, 
 he came to the top of a high hill, and four or five miles away 
 in the valley below, he saw the smoke curling up from the chim 
 neys of the most western settlement, at that time, east of the 
 Mississippi River. 
 
 "As it was too late to reach the settlement before dark, the 
 chief sought out the thickest part of the woods, where he spread 
 his blanket upon the ground, and laid himself down upon it, with 
 the intention of passing the night there. He had scarcely set 
 tled himself there when he heard a halloo a long way off among 
 the hills. Supposing that some one had got lost in the woods, 
 he raised himself up, and shouted as loud as he could. Again 
 he heard the halloo, apparently a little nearer, but it sounded so 
 mournful and so wild, and so unlike the voice of any living 
 being, that he became alarmed, and did not shout in return. 
 
 "After a while, however, the long, mournful ' halloo-o-o ' was 
 repeated, and this time much nearer than before. The chief's 
 heart beat loudly in his bosom, and a cold sweat broke out 
 upon his forehead, for he knew that the unearthly sounds that 
 met his ears never came from mortal lips. His very dog, too, 
 seemed to understand this, for he whined and cowered down at 
 his feet, seemingly in the greatest dread. Again the mournful 
 and prolonged " halloo-o-o " was heard, and this time close at 
 hand, and in a few moments an Indian warrior stalked up and 
 took a seat near the chief, and gazed mournfully at him out of 
 his hollow eyes without uttering a word. 
 
896 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 " He was dressed in a different garb from any thing the chief 
 had ever seen worn by the Indians, and he held a bow in his 
 withered hand and a quiver filled with arrows was slung across 
 his shoulders. As the chief looked more closely at him, he saw 
 that this unearthly visitor was, in fact, a grinning skeleton, for 
 his white ribs showed plainly through the rents in his robe, and 
 though seemingly he looked at the chief, there were no eyes in 
 the empty sockets he turned toward him. 
 
 " Presently the figure rose up, and, in a hollow voice, spoke to 
 the chief, and told him to return from whence he came, for their 
 race was doomed ; that they would disappear before the white 
 people like dew before the morning sun; that he was the spirit 
 of one of his forefathers, and that he came to warn him of the 
 fate that awaited him and his people ; that he could remember 
 when the Indians were as numerous as the leaves on the trees, 
 and the white people were few and weak, and shut up in their 
 towns upon the seashore now they are strong, and their num 
 ber can not be counted, and before many years they will drive 
 the last remnant of the red race into the waters of the great 
 western ocean. ' Go back,' said the figure, advancing toward 
 the chief and waving his withered hand, ' and tell your people 
 to prepare themselves for their doom, and to meet me in the 
 " happy hunting grounds," where the white man shall trouble 
 them no more.' 
 
 "As he said this, he came up close to the chief, and placed 
 his skeleton fingers on his head, and glared at him out of the 
 empty sockets in his fleshless skull. ' Son of a fading race, 
 the last hour of your unfortunate people is fast approaching, 
 and soon not a vestige of them will be left on all this wide 
 continent. They and their forests, their hunting grounds, their 
 villages and wigwams, will disappear forever, and the white 
 man's cities and towns will rise up in places where once they 
 chased the buffalo, the elk, and the deer.' 
 
 " The chief was as fearless a warrior as ever went to battle, 
 but when he felt the cold touch of that skeleton hand, a horrible 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 897 
 
 dread took possession of him, and he remembered nothing of 
 what happened afterward. In the morning, when he woke up, 
 the sun was shining brightly overhead, and the birds were 
 whistling and chirping in the trees above him. He looked 
 around for his gun, and was surprised beyond measure when he 
 picked it up that the barrel was all eaten up with rust, and 
 the stock so decayed and rotten that it all fell to pieces in his 
 hand. His dog was nowhere to be seen, and he whistled and 
 called to him in vain, but at his feet he saw a heap of white 
 bones, among which there was a skeleton of a neck with the 
 collar his dog had worn still around it! He then noticed that 
 his buckskin hunting-shirt was decayed and mildewed, and 
 hung in tatters upon him, and that his hair had grown so long 
 that it reached down nearly to his waist. 
 
 " Bewildered by all these sudden and curious changes, he 
 took his way toward the top of the hill, from which, the even 
 ing before, he had seen the smoke rising up from the cabins of 
 the frontier settlement, and what was his astonishment, when 
 he saw, spread out in the valley below him, a great city, with 
 its spires and steeples rising up, as far as his eye could extend, 
 and, in place of the dense, unbroken forests, that covered the 
 earth when he came, a wide, open country presented itself to 
 his view, fenced up into fields and pastures, and dotted over 
 with the white man's stately houses and buildings. 
 
 "As he gazed at all this, in surprise and wonder, he could 
 distinctly hear, from where he stood, the distant hum of the 
 vast multitude, who were laboring and trafficking and moving 
 about in the great city below him. Sad and dispirited, he 
 turned his course homeward, and, after traveling many days, 
 through farms and villages and towns, he at length reached once 
 more the banks of the mighty Mississippi. But the white peo 
 ple had got there before him, and, in place of a silent and lonely 
 forest, he found a large town built up where it had once stood, 
 and saw a huge steamboat puffing and paddling along right 
 where he had crossed the ' father of waters' in his little canoe. 
 
898 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 " When he had crossed the river, he found that the white set 
 tlements had gone on a long ways beyond it, but at length he 
 came to the wilderness again, and after wandering about for 
 many moons, he at last came up with the remnant of his peo 
 ple, but now no longer a powerful tribe such as he had left 
 them, for they had dwindled down to a mere handful. His 
 father and mother were dead, his brothers and sisters were all 
 dead, and no one knew the poor old warrior that had appeared 
 so suddenly among them. For awhile he stayed with them and 
 talked in the strangest way, about things that had happened 
 long before the oldest people in the tribe were born ; but one 
 day after telling the story I have told you, he took his way 
 toward the setting sun, and was never seen more." 
 
 After Big Foot had been in the Indian village three months 
 he became exceedingly weary of his surroundings and longed 
 only to be able to return to the settlements. Black Wolf and 
 his mother noticed his moodiness and discontent. 
 
 One day when they were alone in the lodge, Black Wolf 
 asked Wallace why he seemed so unhappy. When told that it 
 was because he pined to see his own people, the Indian did not 
 seem surprised, but sadly said : " Sorry as I am, I will do all 
 that I can to help you to get back to your people." The prepa 
 rations for flight must, he said, be made in secrecy, as if 
 Big Foot should be recaptured nothing could save his life, 
 and Black Wolf * himself would be put to death for having 
 aided him. 
 
 The old squaw received the news of Big Foot's intended 
 departure with much less composure than her son. However, 
 in time she became more resigned, and at parting gave him a 
 dried terrapin's tail, which, she said, would protect him from 
 all danger in battle. 
 
 When their preparations were completed, Black Wolf gave 
 out that he and his white brother were going out on a bear 
 hunt, to be gone several days. Taking the faithful Comanche, 
 Big Foot bade adieu to his adopted mother, and left the Indian 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 899 
 
 village forever. He and Black Wolf traveled together for thirty 
 miles. The Indian was overcome by deep melancholy, yet he 
 would from time to time try to throw it off by cheerful conver 
 sation. After camping together for the last time, the two men 
 ate their breakfast, and then Black Wolf marked out upon the 
 ground a rough map of the country through which Wallace 
 was to pass on his way home. After giving full and careful 
 directions, the Indian shouldered his gun, bade his white brother 
 farewell, and sorrowfully taking his way back toward the village, 
 was soon lost to sight among the hills. Big Foot, accompanied 
 by Comanche, made his way home to the settlements, reaching 
 them early in March 1838. 
 
 Some months after Wallace's return from captivity, late one 
 winter afternoon, he picked up his gun and started for some 
 neighboring hills to bring in some venison. No game seemed to 
 be stirring, and after keeping on till it had grown too dark to 
 shoot, he reluctantly returned homeward without the venison. 
 The sun had set, and he hurried along to get out of the chap 
 arral thickets into the open prairie before night came on. The 
 wolves had been howling unusually, but Wallace paid no atten 
 tion to the matter. He had gone about a half a mile on his 
 homeward way, when a large gray wolf trotted out into the 
 path before him, and commenced howling in the most mournful 
 manner. In an instant he was answered by a dozen other 
 wolves in the hills around him. 
 
 Feeling somewhat nervous, Wallace shot the wolf, and started 
 on again, this time in a run. The rest of the story we give from 
 Big Foot's own published account. "The faster I went, the 
 faster the wolves followed me, and, looking back after a little 
 while, I saw twenty-five or thirty ' lobos ' (a large, fierce kind 
 of wolf, found only in Mexico and Texas), trotting along after 
 me at a rate I knew would soon bring them into close quarters, 
 and in the bushes and chaparral that bordered the trail I was 
 traveling I could see the gleaming eyes and pointed ears of at 
 least a dozen others coming rapidly toward me. One big fellow, 
 
900 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 more daring and hungry than the rest, made a rush at me, and 
 I barely had time to level my gun and fire, for he was touching 
 the muzzle of it when I pulled the trigger. He fell dead at my 
 feet, but, as if this had been the signal for a general attack, in 
 an instant the whole pack were around me, snarling and snap 
 ping, and showing their white teeth in a way that was any 
 thing but pleasant. 
 
 " I fought them off with the breach of my gun, for they did 
 not give me a chance to load it, retreating all the while as rap 
 idly as I could. Once so many of them rushed in upon me at 
 the same time that, in spite of all my efforts, I failed to keep 
 them at bay, and they dragged me to the ground. I thought 
 for an instant that it was all up with me, but despair gave me 
 the strength of half a dozen men, and I used 'old butch' (his 
 knife) to such a good purpose that I killed three outright and 
 wounded several others, which appeared somewhat to daunt the 
 balance, for they drew off a short distance and began to howl 
 for re-enforcements. 
 
 "The re-enforcements were on their way, for I could hear 
 them howling in every direction, and I knew that I had no time 
 to lose. So I put off at the top of my speed, and in those days 
 it took a pretty fast Spanish pony to beat me a quarter when I 
 'let out the kinks.' And I let 'em out this time with a will, 
 I tell you, and fairly beat the wolves for a half a mile or so, 
 but my breath then began to fail me, and I could tell by their 
 close, angry yelps that the devils were again closing in upon me. 
 
 " By this time I was so much exhausted that I knew I should 
 make a poor fight of it, more especially as I could perceive 
 from the number of dark forms behind rne, and the gleaming 
 eyes and shining teeth that glistened out of every bush on the 
 wayside, that the wolves had had considerable addition to their 
 number. It may be thought strange that I did n't take to a 
 tree, but there were no trees there to take to nothing but 
 stunted chaparral bushes, not much higher than a man's head. 
 
 "I thought my time had come at last, and I was almost 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 901 
 
 ready to give up in despair, when, all at once, I remembered 
 seeing, as I came out, a large lone oak-tree, with a hollow in it 
 about large enough for a man to crawl into, which grew on the 
 banks of a small canon, not more than three or four hundred 
 yards from where I then was. I resolved to make one more 
 effort, and, if possible, to reach this tree before the wolves came 
 up with me again; and if ever there was good, honest running 
 done, without any throw-off about it, I did it then. The fact 
 is, I believe a man can 't tell how fast he can run until he gets 
 a pack of wolves after him in this way. A fellow will natu 
 rally do his best when he knows that if he does n't, in twenty 
 minutes he will be 'parceled out' among as many ravenous 
 wolves, a head to one, a leg to another, an arm to a third, and 
 so on. At least that was the effect of it, and I split the air so 
 fast with my nose that it took the skin off of it, and for a week 
 afterward it looked like a peeled onion. 
 
 " However, I beat the wolves once more fairly and squarely, 
 not much time to spare either, for just as I crawled into the hol 
 low of the tree, which was about as high as my head from the 
 ground, the ravenous creatures were howling all around me. At 
 the bottom of the tree I found a ' skunk ' snugly stowed away, 
 but I soon routed him out, and the wolves gobbled him up in an 
 instant. He left a smell behind him that was any thing but 
 agreeable in such close quarters. However, I was safe there at 
 any rate from the attacks of the wolves, and all the smells in 
 the city of New Orleans could n't have driven me from my hole 
 just at that time. 
 
 " The wolves could only get at me one at a time, and with 
 ' old butch ' in my hand I knew I could manage a hundred in 
 that way. They bit and gnawed and scratched, and every now 
 and then a fellow would jump up and poke his nose into the 
 hollow of the tree, but just as sure as he did it, he caught a 
 wipe across it with ' old butch ' that generally satisfied his curi 
 osity for awhile. All night long they kept up their serenade, 
 and, as you may well suppose, I did n't get much sleep. How- 
 
902 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ever, the noise did n't matter, for I had got several severe bites 
 on my arms and legs, and the pain I suffered from them would 
 have kept me awake anyhow. 
 
 "Just at daylight the next morning the wolves began to 
 sneak off, and when the sun rose not one was to be seen, 
 except three dead ones at the root of the tree, that had come in 
 contact with 'old butch.' I waited awhile longer to be cer 
 tain they had all left, when I crawled out of my den, gave 
 myself a shake, and found I was all right, except a pound or 
 so of flesh taken out of one of my legs, and a few scratches on 
 my arms. I hobbled back home, and for a long time afterward 
 when I heard the howling of wolves I always felt uneasy. I 
 found out the next day why the wolves acted as they did. I 
 had a bottle of assafoetida that was broken and run over my 
 clothes. I had often heard that assafoetida would attract wolves, 
 but I had always thought it an old woman's yarn. But it is a 
 fact, and if you don't believe it, go some dark night into a 
 thick chaparral where wolves are numerous, and pour about a 
 gill over your clothes, and then wait a little, and see what will 
 turn up ; and if you do n't hear howling and snapping and snarl 
 ing, I '11 agree to be stung to death by bumble-bees." 
 
 In the fall of 1842 the Indians troubled the frontiers of 
 Texas more than at any previous time. A party of forty men, 
 of which Big Foot^ was a member, set out to punish the red 
 skins. When they camped, on the evening of the third day, 
 Wallace noticed a smoke a few miles to the north-east, and 
 was directed by the captain to make a scout before daylight, 
 and find out what the thing meant. He rose about three o'clock 
 in the morning, and stumbled across the rough country until he 
 came to a canon leading in the direction he was going. 
 
 Lying by until daylight, Wallace then started up the canon, 
 which was very crooked and at times not more than four feet 
 wide. Making a sudden turn at one place, Wallace, who was 
 stooping over, ran violently into an Indian, who was descending 
 the canon, knocking him down. Both men scrambled to their 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 903 
 
 feet, and being too close to shoot, dropped their guns and grap 
 pled with each other. Big Foot was the heavier, but the Indian, 
 over six feet tall and of powerful build, was furthermore per 
 fectly naked, and greased from head to foot with bear's oil. 
 The struggle up and down and across the canon was an equal 
 one. As fast as Big Foot threw his opponent, the latter would 
 instantly slip out of his grasp, before the white man could draw 
 his knife. 
 
 At last Wallace threw the savage with great violence, his 
 head striking a rock. Momentarily stunned, he gave the white 
 man time to draw his knife and bury it in the Indian's body. 
 The moment the savage felt the cold steel, he threw Wallace off, 
 seized him by the throat with one hand, and whipped out his 
 knife. In an instant the weapon descended, and was buried to 
 its hilt in the hard ground at Wallace's side. The blood from 
 the wound in his head running into his eyes blinded him so that 
 he missed his aim. 
 
 It must have been about this time that Wallace, with a party 
 of eight men who had been out exploring the Nueces River, had 
 the misfortune to lose all their horses by Indians one night 
 while in camp: The men at once started on foot to the Zumwalt 
 settlement, ten miles away, to procure horses, and follow the 
 Indians. After obtaining some animals they struck out on the 
 trail of the flying savages. On the way they were joined by a 
 tall stranger, on an ugly but powerful horse. The man's eyes had 
 a wild, insane look, and he explained that his business was way 
 laying and shooting Indians. He and his family had some ten 
 years before emigrated from Kentucky to Texas, and settled 
 in a pretty spot near the Gaudaloupe River. One day, when 
 a mile away from his house, he heard several guns discharged. 
 Hurrying back, he found his wife and three children lying dead 
 on the floor. He had at once fallen upon the Indians, and 
 killed four of them before he fell senseless from his wounds. 
 Since that time he had devoted himself to revenge. 
 
 The stranger at once became the guide of the expedition^ 
 
904 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 and, a half an hour before sundown, brought the men within 
 fifty yards of the Indian camp. A bloody fight followed, in 
 which the Indian fighter killed four savages. The incident 
 seemed to make him for the moment quite happy, and after the 
 Indians were driven off he was observed to laugh. The ulti 
 mate fate of the man is unknown. 
 
 At a later period in his life, Wallace settled in a ranch on 
 the Medina River. His principal neighbors were the Lipan 
 Indians. One day Big Foot gave a grand dinner of bear meat 
 and honey to the chiefs of the tribe, and made a treaty with 
 them to the effect that henceforth he was to be considered the 
 same as a Lipan, and that they would not steal from him. For 
 many miles the white men lost all their live stock by the 
 depredations of these Indians, but, as the years rolled by, Wal 
 lace was not troubled. 
 
 In time, the Lipans determined to move to the Guadaloupe 
 River. A morning or so after their departure, Wallace found 
 his horses stolen. He had no idea that they had been taken 
 by his allies, but, on following the trail, he picked up an arrow 
 which he knew belonged to the Lipan tribe. Repairing to San 
 Antonio, he raised a company of thirty men for the recovery of 
 the stolen property. Just as the company of rough but brave 
 fellows were about to leave the town, a stranger, wearing a 
 stove-pipe hat, light cloth clothes, and patent leather gaiters, 
 stepped up to Wallace, and explained that he was writing a 
 novel of frontier life, and desired to accompany the expedition 
 in order to acquire some practical experience. 
 
 The big Ranger looked down at the little dandy, and, with 
 a wink at his men, told him, "All right, you're welcome, Mr. 
 Author." The stranger hustled away, and the next day joined 
 the party armed with a little, double-barreled gun and an um 
 brella. He carried also a tiny pistol, of which the men made 
 all manner of fun. The first night was passed at Wallace's 
 ranch. The author went to sleep on a big buffalo robe where a 
 dog had been lying. 
 

 HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 905 
 
 In the morning he had a crick in his neck, from sleeping 
 with a block of wood for a pillow. Next he hinted to Big Foot 
 that he felt as if he had been bitten by insects. The man 
 asked him where he had gotten his buckskin suit, intimating 
 that, no doubt, it contained vermin. This made the literary 
 stranger perfectly wretched. 
 
 The journey after the Indians was soon begun, the men 
 dividing their time between fun with the author and a lookout 
 for redskins. Late in the afternoon a storm came up. The 
 stranger proudly raised his umbrella amid the jeers of the men, 
 but the first gust of wind turned it inside out and whirled it 
 from his hand. He slept that night in a puddle of water. 
 Evidently his notions of the romantic side of frontier life were 
 undergoing a change. In the morning the wrecked umbrella 
 was found lodged in a neighboring bush. Each of the men fired 
 at it with their big revolvers. When the firing ceased, the 
 stranger sadly gathered the remains of the umbrella, and 
 strapped them on his saddle. 
 
 In the afternoon an early halt was made. The stranger, 
 hearing the men say they would look around for game, took 
 his little bird gun and strolled away himself. In a little while 
 Big Foot heard both barrels of the gun go off, and he at once 
 seized his rifle and ran in the direction of the sound. He found 
 the stranger. He was running round and round a tree, dodging 
 an immense buck, which was after him. He screamed to Wallace 
 to shoot the animal, but the Texan, almost splitting with laugh 
 ter, pretended to think that the author was really chasing the 
 buck instead of the buck chasing him, and trying to lay hold of 
 the animal to cut his throat. The frightened man, breathless 
 with incessant exertions to avoid the vicious lunges which the 
 animal made with its horns, one of which carried away the tail 
 of his buckskin shirt, screamed louder and louder, earnestly pro 
 testing that this was not the case. Big Foot seemed not to 
 believe, said it was a joke, praised his pluck, told him he would 
 soon tire out the buck, and finally, when the man was about 
 
906 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 worn out fired, and killed the buck. The literary stranger was 
 furiously mad. He abused Wallace like a pickpocket, and swore 
 at him like a trooper for his delay in killing the beast. How 
 ever, he was so much relieved to find that he was still alive and 
 safe, that his wrath gave way. 
 
 The next day, Wallace says, the men suffered terribly from 
 want of water. Just when the torment became intolerable, 
 the stranger was observed to be making notes in a blank 
 book. These notes related to the appearance of men suffer 
 ing from intense thirst. When the men found out what he 
 was doing, they wanted to kill him, and decided that he was 
 a maniac. 
 
 The next adventure of the stranger was more serious. 
 While hunting for geological specimens, he was attacked by 
 Mexican hedgehogs, which often tear men to pieces with their 
 tusks. Scrambling up into some chaparral bushes, he began 
 to yell, until he made himself heard at the camp. Big Foot, 
 as usual, came to the rescue, but also resolved to have a little 
 fun. Climbing up into a tree, he advised the stranger to drive 
 the hogs away, as they were dangerous. We quote Big Foot's 
 own published account of the incident : 
 
 " Said I, ' Mr. Author/ fixing myself comfortably on a limb, 
 ' this reminds me of a scrape I once got into, and as we are 
 comfortably fixed out here all by ourselves, I could not have 
 a better chance of telling it to you.' 
 
 " ' Comfortable !' he exclaimed ; ' you have strange ideas of 
 it if you think a man can be comfortable sitting on the top of 
 your abominable Texas chaparral, with his knees drawn up to 
 his chin, a thorn in each leg as long as my finger, and a dozen 
 wild hogs making lunges at them whenever he stretches them 
 down for a moment's ease. For heaven's sake, shoot them,' 
 he implored, ' arid let me out of this nest of thorns.' 
 
 " ' I can 't,' I replied ; " I have only the bullet that is in my 
 gun, and if I shoot one of them it will make the other ten 
 times worse/ 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 907 
 
 " ' You do n't tell me so, captain. Then what in the world 
 shall we do ?' 
 
 "'Why,' said I, 'the only thing we can do now is to be 
 patient, and wait until the moon rises to-night, and I think 
 then the " havilinas " will leave us.' 
 
 " ' 0, do n't talk to me about the moon's rising. It won't be 
 up till twelve o'clock, at least, and I can 't stand this fifteen 
 minutes longer, no how. Crackey ! that fellow gave me a 
 grazer ! He has taken off the heel of my boot on his tusks !' 
 
 " ' You see, Mr. Author,' I continued, pretending not to hear 
 what he said, ' it was about six years ago, that Bill Hankins 
 and I were out bear hunting on the head waters of the Leon, 
 when ' 
 
 "'Plague take that fellow, he brought blood that time, 
 certain!' said our author. 'Their teeth are as sharp as razors.' 
 
 '"As I was saying,' I went on, ' it was about six years ago 
 that Bill Hankins and I were out bear hunting on the head 
 waters of the Leon, when we fell in with a large drove of 
 these " havilinas." : 
 
 " ' They are gnawing my bush down,' said our author in 
 a pitiable tone; 'they will have it down in less than ten 
 minutes.' 
 
 " ' As I was saying,' I continued, ' it was about six years 
 ago that Bill Hankins and I were out hunting on the head 
 waters of the Leon, when we fell in with a large drove of 
 " havilinas " and before we were aware of our danger ' 
 
 " ' Shuh ! you devils,' said our author, flinging his last mis 
 sile, his memorandum book, at the hogs, as they made a general 
 rush on his bush. 
 
 " ' Mr. Author,' I said, in an offended tone, ' you are not 
 paying the slightest attention to what I am telling you. You 
 might learn something, even from the Indians, in this respect, 
 for, according to Mr. Cooper, they never interrupt a man when 
 he is talking. 
 
 " ' As I was saying,' I continued, ' it was about six years 
 
908 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ago that Bill Hankins and I were out bear hunting on the 
 head-waters of the Leon" 
 
 " ' Oh ! bother Mr. Cooper and Bill Hankins and the head 
 waters of the Leon/ said our author, losing his temper at my 
 persistence in relating the anecdote. ' Cooper's a fool. Oh my! 
 there 's a thorn clean through my, back into the hollow !' 
 
 " ' But my friend/ said I, changing my tactics, ' you ought 
 to bear your troubles with patience, for you should remember 
 what a thrilling chapter you will be able to make out of this 
 adventure.' 
 
 " ( Oh yes/ said he, ' but who will there be to write it when 
 I am chawed up by these infuriated pigs like a handful of 
 acorns? Oh, dear! they'll have me directly. I can feel the 
 bush give way now. Captain/ said he, you will find the man 
 uscript of the novel in my saddle-bags. Take it, and publish 
 it for the benefit of the world, and tell them of the melancholy 
 fate of the poor author. But tell them, for mercy's sake, "that I 
 was devoured by a lion, a panther, or a catamount, or some 
 decent sort of a beast, and not by a gang of squealing pigs. It 
 won't sound romantic, you know.' 
 
 " ' I '11 do it, Mr. Author/ said I, ' but I hope you will live 
 long enough yet to tell them all about it yourself. You have a 
 first-rate chance to study the habits and appearance of these 
 " havilinas," and can write a chapter on them that will be very 
 interesting and true to nature. How will you describe them ?' 
 I asked. 
 
 " ' They look to me/ he answered, 6 like a couple of butcher 
 knives, about as long as my arm, stuck into a handle covered 
 with hair and bristles !' 
 
 " 'And can you tell me/ I said, ' what particular tribe of ani 
 mals they belong to?' 
 
 " ' Captain, I do n't feel inclined to discuss the subject now, 
 particularly as the subject is so eager to discuss me; and besides, 
 to tell you the truth, I think you have selected a most unsuit 
 able time for propounding your questions in natural history. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 909 
 
 Oh, my ! there goes the leg of my pants and a strip of the hide 
 with it !' 
 
 " ' Mr. Author,' I said, pretending not to hear his remarks, 
 6 1 recollect once reading a chapter in one of Mr. Cooper's nov 
 els, in which he gives a very interesting account of the immense 
 droves of wild pigeons that were migrating from one part of the 
 country to another, and ' 
 
 " ' Oh, bother Cooper, I say !' said our author, becoming per 
 fectly frantic as a thorn touched him up in the rear and a pig 
 made a dash at his legs in front. ' Cooper is an unmitigated 
 humbug, and I begin to think you are not much better. Oh, I 
 can stand this no longer,' said he, ' and I '11 make a finish of it 
 at once ;' and I verily believe he would have jumped down right 
 among the hogs in another moment, but just then I saw sev 
 eral of my men coming toward us from camp, and said to him : 
 
 " ' Hold on a minute, Mr. Author ; there come some men to 
 help us and will soon rout the beasts now.' 
 
 " Seeing that we were both treed by some sort of ' varmints,' 
 the men hurried up, shot several of the hogs, and the balance, 
 finding we mustered too strong for them, quickly retreated into 
 the chaparral." 
 
 One day, riding along, Big Foot, with a twinkle in his eye, 
 told the stranger several snake stories, and advised him, if he 
 ever felt a rattlesnake, even in the bed with him, to lie perfectly 
 still, as the only way to avoid being bitten. Duvall relates the 
 ensuing incident admirably. 
 
 "I saw that my ' snake story' had produced the desired 
 effect upon him, and for the time I dropped the subject. The 
 next night we encamped in a very snaky-looking locality, and I 
 cut off a piece of grapevine about as thick as an ordinary rattle 
 snake, which I slyly slipped under the edge of our blanket just 
 before I ' turned in.' About a half an hour after we had lain 
 down I drew out the grapevine and drew it slowly along the 
 author's back, at the same time gently shaking my rattles, which 
 I held in my other hand. He was just on the eve of dropping 
 
 51 
 
910 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 off to sleep, but the crawling motion and the rattling aroused 
 him in an instant. 
 
 " ' Oh ! murder ! captain ! there 's a rattlesnake crawling along 
 my back ! What in the world am I to do ?' 
 
 " ' I know it,' I answered, ' I hear him rattling now (and I 
 gently shook the rattles I held in my hand). Lie still, and 
 do n't move a muscle until he coils up.' 
 
 " ' Oh, yes,' said the poor fellow, and his teeth fairly chat 
 tered from fright, ' it 's easy enough for you to say " lie still," 
 when I am between you and the snake ; but it is not so easy 
 for me, for I can feel him squirming along my back now.' 
 
 " * I know that,' said I, ' but you must lie still, for the first 
 motion you make, he will have his fangs into you, sure.' 
 
 " ' Oh !' said the poor fellow, as I gave the vine another 
 serpentine twist along his back, < this is more than human na 
 ture can bear ugh ! ugh ! Captain, can 't you do any thing 
 for me ?' 
 
 " ' There 's no danger at all,' I said, ' if you will only keep 
 still; he will soon settle himself, and then you can jump up 
 without the least risk of being bitten. When he quits rattling 
 altogether,' said I, shaking the rattles in my hand, 'you will 
 know that he -is asleep.' 
 
 " ' Captain,' he replied in a faint and husky voice, as I gave 
 the vine another twist and shook the rattles, 6 this is past endur 
 ance. I must get out of this at all hazards.' 
 
 " ' Unless you want to die,' said I, ' do n't do it, but lie as 
 still as a mouse when puss is about. By the way, Mr. Author,' 
 said I, ' can you tell me whether the rattlesnake is confined to 
 the American continent, or if he is to be found also in other 
 countries ? I have heard a great many opposite opinions on the 
 subject, and some pretend to think,' I continued, giving the vine 
 another twist, ' that they are a species of the cobra de capello, 
 the most poisonous serpent in the world.' 
 
 " 6 Ugh !' said the poor fellow, ' this is past all endurance. 
 Captain, remember me to all inquiring friends, and do n't forget 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 911 
 
 that the manuscript is in my saddle-bags. Give it to the world 
 with all its imperfections !' 
 
 " ' Hold on just one minute longer/ giving the rattles a 
 vicious shake, 'and you will be all right.' 
 
 " ' Not another second/ he cried, ' it's no use talking. I may 
 as well die one way as another,' and he made a desperate bound 
 from under the blanket, and pitched head foremost on the ground, 
 ten to twelve paces off. 
 
 " I seized a bottle of ' Ghili peppersauce,' and ran to where 
 he was lying. ' Here, Mr. Author,' I said, ' drink this quick !' 
 He took it, and in the hurry and excitement of the moment 
 hastily swallowed about a pint of the contents. 
 
 "' Gracious!' said I, 'you have made a wonderful escape.' 
 
 " ' I do n't know so well about that,' said he, sputtering and 
 gasping for breath. 'I'm afraid I'm bit.' 
 
 " ' Do you feel,' I asked, ' as if you were up to your waist 
 in melted lead?' 
 
 " ' Not exactly,' he replied, drawing his breath through 
 his teeth ; ' but I feel as if I had swallowed a quart or so of it.' 
 
 "'Then,' said I, 'you are all safe, and you have made 
 the most wonderful escape on record. No one before has 
 ever missed being bit who sprang off, as you did, before the 
 snake had coiled himself up. A most extraordinary escape 
 truly."' 
 
 Notwithstanding these pranks, when the real fight with the 
 Indians came on the author quite won the respect of the men 
 by his bravery, even if he did little execution. 
 
 Big Foot Wallace was a member of' the Mier expedition, 
 being taken prisoner at the same time that Nelson Lee escaped 
 from Mier. His sufferings in prison were great. He partici 
 pated in a bold escape, but after several days of wandering in 
 the wilderness, during which time he and his companions nearly 
 died from thirst and starvation, they were recaptured by the 
 Mexicans. He took part in drawing lots to determine which of 
 their number should be executed, but luckily drew a white bean, 
 
912 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 and his life was preserved. After an imprisonment of two years 
 he was released. 
 
 He took part in the Mexican war, and had many fights with 
 Indians while driving the mail coach, which he subsequently 
 did for many years, between San Antonio and El Paso. He 
 has made his home in his old age on a ranch, about thirty miles 
 from San Antonio. 
 
 BOWIE'S FIGHT. 
 
 On the second day of November, 1831, a company of eleven 
 men, of whom Rezin P. Bowie and his brother James were the 
 leaders, set out from San Antonio to hunt for the abandoned 
 silver mines of the San Saba mission, which tradition said were 
 of wonderful richness. Their location had been forgotten and 
 lost sight of by men. For three weeks the party traveled 
 steadily, making in the day-time careful explorations of the 
 country, and grouped about their camp fire in the evenings, talk 
 ing until far into the night, of the treasure of which they were 
 in quest. 
 
 One morning two Comanche Indians having with them an 
 unhappy Mexican, whom they had taken captive, came up with 
 the party. They appeared friendly, presents were exchanged, 
 and the white men went on their way without suspicion. On 
 the following morning the Mexican captive suddenly appeared in 
 the camp, exhausted by a long ride, and stated that he had been 
 sent by his chief, Isaonie, to warn the white men, that they were 
 followed by a party of one hundred and sixty-four Indians 
 of the Waco and Caddo tribes, who were bent upon massacring 
 them. The Mexican further stated that his chief had on a pre 
 vious evening endeavored to dissuade the war party from their 
 bloody purpose, but without success. He himself had only 
 sixteen braves, badly armed and without ammunition, but said 
 that if the white men thought best to return and join him he 
 would do his best to protect them. The treasure hunters, how- 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 913 
 
 ever, determined to push on toward the old fort on the San 
 Saba River, thirty miles away. The Mexican having dis 
 charged his duty left them. Though making all possible haste 
 along the rocky roads, the white men were unable to reach the 
 fort that night. They were compelled to encamp in a small 
 clump of live oak trees, surrounded by an open rocky country. 
 
 Special safeguards were taken for the night, but the hours 
 passed without alarm. In the morning preparations were made 
 for an early start toward the old fort, which was only six miles 
 away. Camp had been broken, and the men were in the act of 
 leaving the cover, when they were dismayed to discover the 
 Indians not two hundred yards away. In front of them was 
 a savage on foot, hunting the trail. The whites instantly 
 dismounted, made fast their horses, and prepared for such 
 defense as they could make. There were, on the one hand, 
 eleven white men; on the other, over one hundred and sixty 
 Indians. 
 
 The odds were so fearful that the elder Bowie and a man 
 named Buchanan determined to go out and attempt to parley. 
 When within forty yards of the spot where the Indians had 
 halted, Bowie called to them, to which the response was sev 
 eral shots, one of which broke Buchanan's leg. Bowie dis 
 charged his gun and pistol, seized Buchanan, threw him on his 
 shoulder, and started to the live oaks under a heavy fire. 
 .Buchanan was wounded in two additional places, but Bowie was 
 unhurt. Seeing that their shots had failed to take effect on 
 Bowie, eight Indians, with drawn tomahawks, started after him. 
 Burdened as he was with the weight of Buchanan, Bowie was 
 quickly overtaken, but, just as the Indians were about to lay 
 hold on him, the men from the cover fired, killing four savages 
 and driving off the others. 
 
 At this moment, when the white men's rifles were nearly 
 all empty, a large part of the Indians, who had circled around 
 to another side of the clump of live oaks, opened a heavy fire. 
 Their chief alone was on horseback, advancing at their head 
 
914 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 toward the trees. One shot broke his leg and killed his horse. 
 Hopping on one leg, and protecting himself with his shield of 
 buffalo hide, he attempted to get out of range, but was killed 
 in the effort. A handful of Indians sprang forward to seize his 
 body, an attempt which was successful, but which cost the lives 
 of several braves. 
 
 The whole company of Indians then retired, only to return 
 with another chief at their head, who met the same fate as his 
 predecessor. By this time some twenty Indians had gotten to 
 the rear of the white men, and, concealing themselves behind 
 the bank of a creek, poured in a dangerous fire. Two men 
 were shot through the body at its very beginning, and a third 
 had his gun cut in two by a rifle ball. 
 
 Practically surrounded by Indians, so that the trees no longer 
 afforded cover, the whites determined to shift their position to 
 a dense thicket, which was near by. To accomplish this 
 move, it was necessary to dislodge the Indians from the bank 
 of the creek. They succeeded in shooting so many of the latter 
 through the head, that they were enabled to run to the thicket 
 without loss. Once fairly located here, the whites had a mate 
 rial advantage. Every time they fired, the men would quickly 
 change their positions, moving several feet away. While they 
 had a fair view of the Indians in the prairie, the latter had 
 no target except the smoke of the guns above the thicket. 
 In the course of a two hours' fight, only one white man was 
 injured. 
 
 Suffering heavily from the unerring aim of the treasure- 
 hunters, the Indians fired the prairie grass, with the view of 
 smoking out the white men. The latter barricaded themselves 
 as well as they could with rock, and, owing to the direction of 
 the wind, were, for a considerable time, in but little danger. At 
 last the wind changed, and the fire started directly toward the 
 position of the white men. On it came in a wall of flame fully 
 ten feet high. The Indians kept up an incessant fire upon the 
 thicket, as well as a hideous din of shouts and yells. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 915 
 
 Under cover of the smoke the whites held an anxious con 
 sultation. In the case the Indians charged under cover of the 
 smoke it was evident that the white men could only deliver one 
 volley from their guns, as the air was so thick with sparks of 
 fire that no man could open his powder horn without being 
 almost certainly blown up. Full of desperate courage the men 
 resolved that if the savages charged they would deliver their 
 fire, place their backs together, draw their knives and fight to 
 the death. Meanwhile the flames approached nearer, and nearer. 
 The men gathered in a little group about their baggage, and 
 when the fire was almost on them, fought the flames by smoth 
 ering them by their buffalo robes and blankets. 
 
 By this means they avoided being burnt to death, but the 
 thicket was so much scorched and charred that it no longer 
 afforded protection. To remedy this the men built a low breast 
 work of rock about them. At sundown, the Indians, having 
 failed to dislodge them, withdrew to a little distance. The 
 whites labored incessantly at their fortification, and by ten 
 o'clock in the evening had built it breast high. In this little 
 inclosure the men remained for eight days, parties of Indians 
 hovering within sight nearly all the time, but making no formid 
 able attack. At last, under cover of night, taking the wounded 
 with them, they set out across the country toward San Antonio. 
 Intent no longer on discovering mythical silver mines, but only 
 anxious to reach their homes, this wish was finally gratified. 
 
916 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 OHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE, CONTINUED. 
 DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 HE man whose name stands at the head of this 
 chapter deserves a place in any sketch, how 
 ever brief, of the heroes of the Lone Star State. 
 This is not on account of his life, but of his 
 death. Although nearly his entire career was 
 passed elsewhere, he did for Texas all that a 
 man could do he gave his life for her. He 
 was the most original character produced upon 
 the American frontiers, as well as by all odds 
 the most famous one. 
 David Crockett was born in a wretched cabin in East Ten 
 nessee, in the year 1786. His father was one of the worst 
 specimens of frontier life. He kept a tavern, which consisted 
 of nothing more than a tumbling cabin, with one room and an 
 earthen floor. Its only accommodations consisted of a great jug 
 of vile whisky. The old man, furthermore, was mean. When 
 the boy was only twelve years old, the father hired him to a 
 Dutchman to go on foot with him for four hundred miles and 
 drive a herd of cattle. The trip was hard even for a man. 
 Many a night the wretched boy, weary, supperless, spattered 
 with mud, and drenched with rain, would lie on the ground 
 without shelter or covering. The journey terminated in Vir 
 ginia, where the Dutchman lived. 
 
 As for the boy, it remained to make his way back home 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 917 
 
 through the wilderness, four hundred miles in extent. He ob 
 tained permission to follow an emigrant's wagon, but quickly 
 tiring of their slow progress, struck out alone into the wilder 
 ness, and soon left the emigrants far behind. We neither know 
 how he obtained food, how he crossed the rivers, nor how he 
 defended himself from wild beasts. We only know that it was 
 winter when he started and spring when he reached his jour 
 ney's end. 
 
 The home to which he returned was miserable enough. The 
 father was an intemperate old dog, and frequently would take a 
 stout hickory stick and chase David for a mile or two, threat 
 ening each moment to kill him. The boy had a marvelous knack 
 for avoiding his pursuer, and simply shouted and laughed at his 
 father's drunken failures. Crockett naturally drifted away from 
 such a home and engaged in many wild trips over the country 
 to the eastern cities, once even arranging to go to London. This 
 he failed to carry out. 
 
 He married an Irish girl in his neighborhood when quite 
 young, and, after the birth of two children, he packed his little 
 belongings on one shaky old horse, placed his wife and children 
 on its mate, and struck across the country to penetrate two hun 
 dred and fifty miles further into the western wilderness. This 
 was not his only move. Apparently from innate vagrancy, he 
 would no sooner gather a crop than he would abandon his crum 
 bling shanty, and remove to some other location. 
 
 When the Creek war broke out in 1811, such a restless 
 woodsman as Crockett was eager to engage in the conflict. He 
 had many thrilling adventures during the war which we may 
 not here recount. The sufferings of the army for want of food, 
 which were shared by Crockett, have been briefly related else 
 where. During the war his wife died, but, with ready adapta 
 tion to circumstances, he quickly married a widow whom he 
 met. A few months after his marriage, intent on another 
 change of location, he and three neighbors set out on an explor 
 ing tour in central Alabama. 
 
918 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 One morning when the explorers awoke, they discovered 
 that their horses were gone. Crockett at once set out on 
 foot, through forest, bog, and ravine, across creeks and over 
 hills, to follow them. It is almost impossible to believe, yet 
 true, that before nightfall he had traversed fifty miles. He 
 stopped that night at a settler's cabin, but awoke in the morn 
 ing to find himself so lame from his great walk that he could 
 scarcely move. Though suffering greatly, he left the cabin 
 and hobbled along a few miles, hoping that exercise would 
 improve him. 
 
 While proceeding in this way, consumed with fever and 
 tottering with weakness, he fell, overcome by deathly sickness. 
 A happy fortune prevented him from being left here to die or 
 be devoured by wild beasts. Some Indians, coming through 
 the forest, saw the prostrate form of the poor, sick, white man, 
 and quickly attempted to minister to his wants, One of them 
 had a watermelon, from which he cut a slice for the refresh 
 ment of the sufferer. Then, taking him in their arms, they 
 carried him to the cabin of a white man, two miles distant. 
 With true frontier kindness, the people of the place received 
 him, put him to bed, and prepared such herbs and other primi 
 tive medicines as their resources afforded. 
 
 The next day, as the delirium was beginning to settle down 
 in dense clouds upon the mind of the patient, two white men, 
 having been informed by the Indians that one of their country 
 men was lying sick at the place, came to the cabin. They 
 proved to be acquaintances of Crockett. The latter was able to 
 recognize them, and in his delirium begged and besought them 
 to take him to his three companions whom he had left at the 
 camp. He was placed upon a sort of litter, and they carried 
 him all the way, fifty miles, to the spot where his companions 
 were waiting. 
 
 At the end of the journey his fever had risen to a fearful 
 height. It was evident that a long spell of sickness was before 
 him. All that could be done was to find the cabin of some 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 919 
 
 kind pioneer woman, and there leave Crockett, unaided by med 
 ical skill, to fight, single-handed, the battle of life and death. 
 He received the kindest attention. His pallet occupied the 
 corner on the earthen floor of the cabin. After weeks of suf 
 fering he began to recover. Although emaciated and tottering 
 with weakness, he employed a wagoner to carry him home. 
 He arrived there to find that his family had given him up 
 for dead. 
 
 In spite of this misadventure, Crockett, instead of settling 
 down, removed with his family to a spot called Shoal Creek, in 
 what is now "Giles county, Tennessee. In a new country, cattle 
 stealing is regarded as the worst of crimes, and is punished 
 with instant death. This grows out of the fact that it is the 
 crime to which society in such a region is most liable, and 
 against which it has the least protection. Crockett, whose great 
 force of character always asserted itself in every situation, 
 became a self-appointed justice of the peace. Subsequently, he 
 was legally appointed to the position. 
 
 Before the appointment, whenever Crockett made up his 
 mind that a fellow ought to be punished, he had simply ordered 
 the young men who were his self-appointed constables to catch 
 the culprit. When he was brought before him there was a short, 
 sharp trial, lasting not more than three minutes, and then the 
 judge passed sentence, saying : " Take the thief, strip off his 
 shirt, tie him to a tree, and give him a good flogging. Then 
 burn down his cabin and drive him out of the country." From 
 this judgment no appeal would lie. When Crockett was legally 
 appointed justice, he was greatly troubled in mind to learn that 
 they required written warrants. In spite of this difficulty, he 
 got along pretty well, and as he says, ".My judgments stuck 
 like wax." 
 
 David Crockett would probably never have been known to 
 fame had he not entered politics. He was a famous hunter, 
 and popular; on this account, some of the rough settlers sug 
 gested that he become a candidate for the legislature. He was 
 
920 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ambitious, and took fire at the suggestion. In, June, 1821, he 
 began his campaign. He says : " It was a brand-fire new busi 
 ness to me. It now became necessary that I should tell the 
 people something about the government and an eternal sight of 
 other things, that I know 'd nothing more about than I did 
 about Latin and law, and such things as that. I know 'd so little 
 about it, that if any one had told me that General Jackson was 
 the government I should have believed it, for I had never read 
 even a newspaper in my life." 
 
 About this time there was a great squirrel hunt on Duck 
 River, which Crockett resolved to attend. The people were to 
 divide into two parties, and hunt for two days. Then they 
 were to assemble, count the scalps, and the party which had 
 killed the less number of squirrels was to pay for a big dinner 
 and country frolic. Owing to Crockett's marvelous skill, his 
 party killed the most squirrels. 
 
 As the dinner proceeded and whisky began to flow like 
 water, Crockett was called out to make a speech as a candidate, 
 to be followed by his opponent. Crockett was, he says, "As 
 ignorant of the business as an outlandish negro. I got up and 
 told the people I reckoned they knowed what I had come for, 
 but if not I could tell them. I had come for their votes, and if 
 they did n't watch mighty close I would get them too. But the 
 worst of all was that I could not tell them any thing about the 
 government. I choked up as bad as if my mouth had been 
 jamm 'd and cramm'd chock full of dry mush." However, he 
 managed to tell a story or two, and then seeing the people in a 
 good humor took care to remark that he was "as dry as a pow 
 der horn, and that it was time for us all to wet our whistles a 
 little." He then went off to a liquor stand, taking nearly the 
 whole crowd with him, and leaving his competitor to speak to 
 about six men. 
 
 Crockett was elected to the legislature, as a matter of course. 
 When he went to the State Capital he felt that the most impor 
 tant thing for him to do was to learn the meaning of the words 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 921 
 
 government and judiciary. Having learned these points by a 
 great deal of adroit questioning, he felt quite well equipped. 
 He became the fun maker of the legislature. While he liked 
 to raise a laugh at others, he would not stand a laugh at him 
 self. One day a legislator referred to him as "the gentleman 
 from the cane." That evening Crockett invited the man pleas 
 antly to take a walk with him, and when they reached a lonely 
 spot announced that he brought his companion there for the 
 purpose of whipping him within an inch of his life. The man 
 pleaded so hard, however, that Crockett let him off. 
 
 After the adjournment of the legislature, Crockett again 
 determined to move further west. He and a companion struck 
 out into a new region on the Obion River. Here he killed deer 
 and elk almost without number. He built a cabin and planted 
 a crop of corn. During the summer he killed no less than ten 
 bears. In the fall he returned for his family and brought them 
 to his new quarters. 
 
 His physical endurance was wonderful. In the winter, about 
 Christmas, he was trying to cross a slough by getting on a log 
 and poling across. Somehow he fell into the water, which was 
 ten. feet deep. The weather was extremely cold. Getting out 
 on the bank, which was covered with a deep snow, he removed 
 his clothes and hung them on a tree to dry. He then attempted 
 to warm himself by running, but found his legs taken with the 
 cramp, so that he could not make a step six inches long. It 
 was late in the evening before he dragged himself back to his 
 cabin, a feat accomplished with infinite suffering. Yet he relates 
 that he wrapped himself in bear skin, and lying down upon the 
 floor with his feet to the fire, passed the night with comfort and 
 awoke in the morning without feeling any ill effects whatever 
 from his exposure. 
 
 During the continuation of the same storm which was raging 
 at the time of the above incident the meat gave out in the 
 cabin, and the men set out in the blinding sleet to hunt game. 
 Crockett, with three dogs, one of which was pretty old, started 
 
922 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 in a direction where he thought he might find a bear. Every 
 hour the storm grew more furious. The bushes, with which the 
 forest was filled, became so thick with ice that he could no 
 longer force his way through. He had seated himself on a log 
 to rest, when he heard his dogs set up a terrible barking. He 
 followed them as best he could, but no game was in sight, and 
 he concluded the dogs were only making mischief. "Just at 
 that moment," says he, "looking on before my dogs, I saw the 
 biggest bear that ever was seen in America. At that distance 
 he looked like a big, black bull." He hurried forward to find 
 his dogs engaged in a life and death conflict with the bear. 
 It required three bullets to kill him. 
 
 The storm had not abated at all. Crockett hurried back 
 through the icy forest to his cabin, twelve miles away. He 
 and the other two men, who had returned unsuccessful from 
 their hunt, taking four pack horses, set out at once, in spite of 
 fatigue and tempest, to secure the game, an enterprise in which 
 they succeeded. In this way the cabin was furnished with an 
 abundant supply of splendid meat. 
 
 It soon occurred to Crockett to again offer himself for the 
 legislature. On a certain day he appeared at a great political 
 gathering, and began his own peculiar method of electioneering. 
 Having mounted a stump, he began to banter his opponent, Dr. 
 Butler. He took care to assure his audience that though he was 
 very poor, he proposed to furnish his supporters all the whisky 
 they could drink. "When I goes electioneering, I goes fixed for 
 the purpose. I've got a suit of deer leather clothes with two 
 big pockets. I puts a bottle of whisky in one, and a twist of 
 tobacco in t'other, "and starts out. Then if I meets a friend, 
 why I pulls out my bottle and gives him a drink. He'll be 
 mighty apt, before he drinks, to throw away his tobacco. So, 
 when he is done, I pulls my twist out of t 'other pocket, and 
 gives him a chaw. I never likes to leave a man worse off than 
 I found him." 
 
 Dr. Butler, Crockett's opponent, lived in a frame house. In 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 923 
 
 the front room the middle of the floor was covered with a piece 
 of carpet. One day the doctor called to some men, passing, to 
 come in and take a drink. The whisky sat on a table in the 
 center of the room. The men came in and, of course, had 
 never seen a carpet before. They walked cautiously around 
 on the bare part of the floor without daring to put their feet 
 upon the carpet. 
 
 Soon afterward, they were heard inquiring of Crockett's 
 friends how he lived. On learning that he lived in a log cabin 
 of one room, without any glass for the window, and with earth 
 alone for the floor, they declared that he was the fellow for 
 them. "Why," said one of them, "when Butler called us into 
 his house to take a drink, he spread down one of his best bed 
 quilts for us to walk on. He 's too proud for us." Crockett was 
 elected to the legislature, and served two years. 
 
 The bear hunter soon found himself a famous man. Without 
 changing his mode of life, he announced himself as a candidate 
 for Congress, and though unable to read, and barely able to sign 
 hi? name, was elected by nearly three thousand majority. On 
 his way to Washington City, he reached Raleigh, North Caro- 
 lir P on a cold, wet evening. Entering the tavern and elbowing 
 hi way through the crowd toward the fire, some fellow gave 
 him a shove, and said with an oath, " Who are you T Crockett 
 roared out, " I am that same David Crockett, fresh from the 
 back woods, half horse, half alligator, a little touched with the 
 snapping turtle. I can wade the Mississippi, leap the Ohio, ride 
 upon a streak of lightning, and slip without a scratch down a 
 honey locust. I can whip my weight in wild cats, and if any 
 gentleman pleases for a ten-dollar bill he can throw in a panther. 
 I can hug a bear too close for comfort, and eat any man opposed 
 to General Jackson." They made room for Crockett around 
 the fire ! 
 
 When the bear hunter got to Washington, he was invited 
 to dine with President Adams, at a state dinner. The news 
 papers of the time gave what purported to be Crockett's own 
 
924 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 account of that dinner. " I went to dinner, and I walked all 
 around the long table looking for something that I liked. At 
 last I took my seat beside a fat goose, and I helped myself to 
 as much of it as I wanted. I had n't took three bites when I 
 saw a man away up the table talking French to a woman on 
 t' other side. He dodged his head and she dodged hers, and 
 then they got to drinking wine across the table. When I looked 
 back again, my plate was gone, goose and all. I seed a white 
 man walking off with it. I says, Hello mister, bring back my 
 plate. He fetched it back in a hurry, but when he set it down 
 before me, how do you think it was? Licked as clean as my 
 hand. If it was n't I wish I may be shot. Says he, What will 
 you have, sir? And says I, you may well say t^iat after steal 
 ing my goose. I then filled my plate with bacon and greens, 
 and whenever I looked up or down the table I held on to my 
 plate with my left hand. 
 
 " When we were all done eating, I saw a man coming along 
 carrying a great glass thing, with a glass handle below, some 
 thing like a candlestick. It was stuck full of little glass cups 
 with something in them that looked good to eat. Says I, Mis 
 ter, bring that thing here thinks I, let's taste 'em. I found they 
 were mighty sweet and good, so I took six of them." 
 
 Crockett found that his constituency were so much annoyed 
 by this story that he obtained certificates of his good behavior 
 at the table from three New York congressmen. This done, 
 he felt better. Crockett passed two terms in Congress. The 
 third time he stood for election he was beaten. But after two 
 years of retirement was elected for another term. During this 
 last term he made a tour of the eastern cities, attracting great 
 attention. 
 
 In Boston he made a speech full of force and rude eloquence, 
 surprising in the knowledge which it displayed, when one con 
 siders the man, explaining why he had become opposed to the 
 policy of President Jackson. The fifth time Crockett was a can 
 didate for Congress, he made tremendous efforts. He appeared 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 
 
 925 
 
 at the political meetings in his old costume as a bear hunter, 
 with his rifle on his shoulder, and accompanied by his three 
 famous bear dogs. He made funny speeches and gave away 
 whisky like water. But all in vain. His constituency could 
 
 COLONEL DAVID CROCKETT. 
 
 not forgive him for going back on Andrew Jackson. He was 
 beaten. He was terribly crushed by the defeat. Bear hunting 
 and pioneer life had lost their charm. To drown his sorrow, 
 he determined to join the adventurers who were thronging to 
 the state of Texas. 
 
 52 
 
926 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 His head-quarters were at San Antonio. Early in the 
 month of February, 1836, Santa Anna, at the head of a large 
 Mexican army, appeared before the town. The defenders of 
 the place, seeing that they were being surrounded, withdrew to 
 the fortress of Alamo, just outside the town of San Antonio. 
 Crockett and a few followers constituted a most important part 
 of the garrison, which consisted of only one hundred and fifty 
 bold and desperate men. Over the battlements they unfurled an 
 immense flag of thirteen stripes, and with a large, white star of 
 five points surrounded by the letters of the word " TEXAS." 
 
 The Alamo, at that time, consisted of a chapel, seventy-five 
 feet long, sixty-two feet wide, and twenty-two and a half feet 
 high, surrounded by walls of solid masonry four feet thick. 
 The upper part of the walls were arranged for fourteen mounted 
 cannon. Besides this building were two long and narrow bar 
 racks of similar construction, the walls being of solid rock. 
 The singular structure was built by Roman Catholic mission 
 aries from Spain, about the middle of the last century, and was 
 occupied by them for many years. Here, long years before, 
 the tireless priests had sought, by processions, chants, mystical 
 emblems, and beautiful ceremonies, to win the hearts of the 
 Indians, and induce them to adopt the true religion. These 
 efforts were not unsuccessful. The good fathers found the 
 savages far more disposed to virtue and more susceptible to 
 religious impressions than the Spanish soldiers, their own coun 
 trymen, attached to the mission, who were gamblers and rousta 
 bouts of the worst sort. 
 
 For several days the enemy devoted themselves to ravaging 
 -the surrounding country and picking off the defenders of the 
 fortress by their sharp-shooters. On the morning of the 6th of 
 March, just at dawn, the garrison, already weakened and shat 
 tered by a bombardment which had lasted for two days, were 
 roused by the single blast of a bugle in the enemy's camp. At 
 that moment, Santa Anna's entire army of three thousand men, 
 divided into three columns, a certain number of men in each of 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 929 
 
 which carried axes and scaling ladders, moved forward at a 
 double-quick to storm the fortress simultaneously at different 
 points. The cannon from the fortress rendered but little serv 
 ice. The gates were battered down and the enemy swarmed 
 over the walls. The outer wall was abandoned, and the garrison 
 took refuge in the heavy buildings ' already described. All this 
 passed within 'a few minutes after the bugle sounded. 
 
 " The early loss of the outer wall, so thinly manned, was 
 inevitable ; and it was not until the garrison became more con 
 centrated, that the main struggle began. They were more com 
 pact as to space, but not as to unity, for there was no communi 
 cation between the buildings, nor often between rooms. There 
 was now no retreat from point to point ; each group of defenders 
 had to fight and die in the den in which it was brought to bay. 
 The struggle was made up of a series of separate and desperate 
 combats, often hand to hand, between squads of the garrison 
 and bodies of the invaders. From without, the Mexicans 
 concentrated the fire of all their cannon upon the openings in 
 the walls. Within was the roar of the musketry, the cries 
 and curses of the maddened men, the deadly stabs given and 
 received, the floors flowing with blood and encumbered with 
 heaps of corpses. 
 
 The contest was too unequal. Little by little the sepa 
 rate squads of Texans were butchered in the rooms in which 
 they had taken refuge. Only six men of the entire garrison 
 remained alive. Of these David Crockett was one. He stood 
 in the corner of the room like a lion at bay. Twenty Mexi 
 cans lay dead at his feet. His few comrades, too, had fallen, 
 and lay in death, their hands still clenching the hair and throats 
 of their enemies. As the Mexicans poured in upon him, the 
 brave man still fought, his eyes flashing fire, his shattered 
 rifle in his right hand, and in his left a gleaming bowie-knife 
 dripping with blood. His face was covered with blood from a 
 gash in his forehead. ^ 
 
 He was seized, disarmed, and, with five other prisoners, also 
 
930 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 captured alive in different portions of the fortress, taken to 
 the spot where Santa Anna was standing. The Mexican com 
 mander cried out, " Kill them ! kill them on the spot !" 
 Instantly a dozen swords were uplifted. Crockett,, at that 
 moment, sprang like a tiger at the throat of Santa Anna, but, 
 before he could reach him, a fatal thrust pierced his heart, and 
 he fell without a word. There still remained, however, upon 
 his brow the frown of indignation, and his lip was curled with 
 a smile of defiance and scorn. 
 
 THE FIGHTING PARSON. 
 
 Andrew Jackson Potter was born in Chariton county, Mis 
 souri, April 3, 1830. His parents were from Kentucky, and 
 settled finally in what is now called Gentry county, where he 
 spent his childhood days. His father died in 1840. The boy 
 was nimble, fearless, self-reliant, and at an early age earned a 
 distinction as rider at horse races. "Andy's horse always won." 
 
 At the beginning of the Mexican war he entered the army, 
 but was rejected because he was under size. In a few days 
 he was employed as teamster in a wagon train of army sup 
 plies destined for Santa Fe. About the fifth night after leaving 
 Fort Leavenworth the caravan was attacked by the Indians. 
 One man was killed by a ball which passed through Potter's 
 clothes. 
 
 A day or two afterward two Indians traveled with the teams 
 all afternoon. In the evening three others of friendly bearing 
 appeared. The next day, two or three small groups fell in with 
 the train. Suddenly a band of Cheyenne warriors with drawn 
 bows surrounded the train. The drivers, terror-stricken, hud 
 dled together behind the wagons. Potter stole toward a pony 
 grazing at the road-side intending to mount the animal and 
 fly when the killing commenced. The capture ended, how 
 ever, oy the savages loading themselves with merchandise from 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 931 
 
 the wagons, and leaving the train to proceed without other 
 damage. 
 
 A month afterward a more serious attack was made on them. 
 While the teamsters were eating supper, the war whoop and a 
 shower of arrows signaled them to arms. The train-master had 
 drilled his men, fifty in number, armed with flint-locks, to form 
 for the defensive in two divisions, the first to deliver their fire 
 when ordered, and while they reloaded, the other company to 
 fire. By this method the savages were given a hot reception, and 
 in an hour or so, withdrew across the river, leaving a number 
 of ponies and pools of blood as evidence of their loss. At the 
 first volley fired Potter dropped, as his comrades thought dead. 
 But the old blunderbuss of a gun had merely kicked him over. 
 The sight and danger of savages soon lost their terror, and 
 hunting excursions were indulged in by the less cautious of the 
 company. 
 
 On one occasion Potter found himself alone. While leisurely 
 letting his mule graze he discovered a number of Indians stealing 
 along to cut him off from the teams. Quick as thought, leaping 
 from a prostrate position, he was on the mule and slashing his 
 spurs into its sides. He thrashed the frightened brute wildly 
 with his fists. In his insane haste to mount, he failed to catch 
 the reins, which had been lengthened to let the mule graze. It 
 happened that the animal was headed toward the wagons, and 
 the rider had nothing to do but to kick and pound, and the 
 mule nothing to do but run. And they were at it, each to the 
 last extent of strength. The rider had been trained to race, 
 and had always won. The mule was being trained at a fearful 
 rate. They sped through brush and rocks and logs. Every 
 leap seemed unto death. Potter, yet daring danger at every 
 step, swept on and on. Arrows grazed him every moment. 
 The savages, yelling, were at his very heels. They had been 
 leveling their lances for a mile, preparing to hurl them at him. 
 He was barely beyond their reach. A few yards to his right, 
 they were abreast of him ! A moment more, dead or safe ! A 
 
932 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 gully momentarily hindered those who were in the act of strik 
 ing him down. A turn in the trail, and he was in the camp. 
 
 Potter abandoned ox-driving in April, 1851, and took the 
 position of interpreter, guide, property man, and generalissimo 
 of a company of Mormons. His outfit was a musket, knife, 
 revolver, and mule. The first night the Mexicans stole the 
 mule. The Mormons turned pale at the rage of their guide. 
 Mounted on a borrowed horse, he galloped away at early 
 dawn to recover his property. He made an exhaustive search 
 through the region before he found four greasers surrounding 
 the animal and trying to "rope it." He dashed into their 
 midst with his " pepper-box " revolver and shot one dead. The 
 other three made at him with their knives. For ten minutes 
 he was the busiest man alive, but kept their blades out of his 
 body, if not his clothes. Well-nigh dead with exhaustion from 
 the terrible struggle, he at length wounded two and the other 
 fled. His Mormon employes saw the fight from a distance, 
 and greeted the victor with a triumphant reception. 
 
 As a Mormon escort, Potter was not happy, so he took a 
 number of men and made his way to the mines of Arizona, 
 where they gathered a quantity of precious metal. But game 
 was scarce, and the Apaches were harassing. With seven 
 picked men Potter made a journey of a thousand miles, to San 
 Antonio, Texas. He was now of age, with an iron constitution, 
 and a frame of the finest and most powerful build. His splen 
 did muscles, compacted by a hardy frontier life, were perfect. 
 His courage was superb ; yet under this cover of brawn and in 
 this gnarled and knotty creature, throbbed a heart of womanly 
 tenderness. Frank, peaceable, kind-hearted, generous, brave, he 
 was universally popular. 
 
 At a Methodist camp-meeting he became a Christian. It 
 was from midnight to noon with him in an instant. His Chris 
 tianity was of the " Andrew Jackson " type, through and through, 
 and well adapted to the purposes of the locality. A religious 
 old gentleman had a tract of timber land which was being taken 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 933 
 
 by a saw-mill man in spite of all the remonstrances, threats, 
 and persuasions that could be made. One day the injured 
 neighbor came out and related his grievance to Potter. The job 
 suited him. He was a peace-maker. The two called on the 
 trespassing bully. Potter stated the case in his quiet way, and 
 said, " Pay for what you have taken and stop." It was done. 
 
 This little incident is a hint at a marvelous faculty which he 
 possessed when aroused or enraged. He spoke in a low tone, 
 which gave each word the emphasis of a sledge-hammer. His 
 look, manner, and tone at such a time would instantly assuage 
 the fury of the fiercest ruffian. In Texas, they said, "Potter's 
 man always whips." The Church people, especially, gave him 
 a liberal share of the various burdens. 
 
 On a stormy evening he was called to see a pugnacious old 
 Dutchman who had come home drunk, beaten his wife horri 
 bly, and driven his family out in the storm. This was in Pot 
 ter's line. He went, pleased that so much of his border expe 
 rience was available in religious work. The old Dutchwoman 
 was found sitting by a fodder stack in the rain, bruised and 
 crying. The cabin door was barred. With one kick, Potter 
 smashed it in. He dealt the old man a terrific blow, which 
 sent him headlong into the fire, then jerked him out, jumped 
 astride him, and commenced to pound and exhort the old sin 
 ner with amazing vigor. The response from the prostrate con 
 gregation was so faint and slow, that he was tempted to close 
 the exercises. With a minute's respite and a sup of water, the 
 congregation called for its gun. A quiet " No," from the par 
 son satisfied the audience that prayer could not be answered. 
 Another intermission, a little more bathing and camphor, en 
 abled the congregation to yell for its knife. A gesture with 
 the fist at the congregation stopped this. When Potter left 
 the house the Dutchman was subdued enough. 
 
 In 1861 Potter visited the scenes of his childhood in Mis 
 souri. In the family where he visited was a man who abused 
 his wife most cruelly. Guiltily suspecting that Potter might 
 
934 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 interfere, he swore that he would knife the parson if he came 
 in his way. This was a case after Potter's own heart. He 
 told the fellow that he must never repeat this work. The man 
 whipped out his knife, seized his gun, and was about to fire, 
 when Potter quietly approached, took the weapon out of his 
 hands, and pounded him in the stomach with the muzzle. The 
 ruffian stood pitiable and unresisting, saying, "You have my 
 arms, I can not fight." "Take your gun," said Potter, thrust 
 ing it at him, "and ask that woman's forgiveness, or you will 
 never need a gun or knife again." It was done. 
 
 When the war broke out, Potter enlisted in a cavalry regi 
 ment. He was a favorite among the soldiers. Long before his 
 commission was issued he was, by common consent, made chap 
 lain. Among the cavalrymen was a six-foot Texan, of power 
 ful build, overbearing, and quarrelsome. He was a desperate 
 character. No one cared to resist any bearable imposition from 
 him. He became the terror of the camp. 
 
 Texan justice is swift. The Fighting Parson resolved to 
 take the matter in hand. A crowd gathered around as he 
 walked toward the bully and shouted, "You are a liar. Now 
 resent it." The stalwart Texan rushed at his antagonist to 
 stamp him in the dust. A hundred soldiers who knew little 
 of the parson, drew their knives to protect him. He pushed 
 the ruffian in the breast, saying, "Coward, stop!" The Texan 
 was cowed into a wilted puppy. 
 
 A slanderous statement was made in a Brownsville paper 
 about Wood's regiment, while they were in camp at that place. 
 The chaplain sought out the editor who had thus defied the 
 troops. The sermon was short, but the congregation grew pale 
 and trembling as it proceeded. The announcement at the close, 
 that the exercises would be resumed in half an hour, when the 
 preacher and a squad of soldiers would pitch the press and au 
 dience into the Rio Grande, to be washed 'of their vileness, 
 completed the conversion of the congregation, and it started 
 through a back window pell-mell for a new field of usefulness. 
 
HEROES OF THE LONE STAR STATE. 935 
 
 Colonel Debray's regiment, of which Potter was chaplain, 
 was ordered to Navasota, in 1864, to join in the campaign 
 against General Banks. On reaching their destination, the 
 commissary refused to honor the colonel's order for supplies. 
 After two or three failures the parson went. "Who are you?" 
 growled the officer. "A white man," said a quiet, deep voice. 
 There was unburnt powder in the tone. The commissary 
 glanced at his customer. "What do you want?" said the offi 
 cer. " Corn," said Potter, " and we '11 have it or arrest you." 
 " Do n't try that," said the commissary ; " we will settle this 
 with six shooters." "I am ready," said Potter. The corn was 
 instantly furnished. 
 
 In 1872 the Fighting Parson was returned by the West 
 Texas Conference of the Methodist Church to the Uvalde Cir 
 cuit, in a wild and mountainous region of the State. It was a 
 country where the settlers' cabins were crowded into little val 
 leys, peculiarly open to Indian attack. The circuit rider was 
 concluding his first year of service when the Indians became 
 very troublesome. He was on his way back to his home in the 
 mountains, after having attended an appointment, at the time 
 of the incident about to be related. He traveled in an ambu 
 lance drawn by a pair of small mules. 
 
 The road led from Frio to Sabbinal canon, through narrow 
 defiles and along lonely mountain trails. The preacher was 
 armed with his Winchester rifle, toward which he cast, from 
 time to time, a satisfied glance as the road became more wild 
 and lonely. Driving along the bottom of a deep ravine, he 
 saw far below four Indians hurrying toward him. His expe 
 rienced eye at 'once taught him that the situation was full of 
 danger. He drove the ambulance into a sort of thicket, so 
 that when the fight took place the mules should not be fright 
 ened, and cautiously advanced toward the spot where he had 
 seen the Indians. He discovered them crouching near the 
 road, expecting his coming. He instantly attempted to fire, but 
 the weapon, being rusty, did not go off. 
 
936 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 At the click of a trigger the Indians turned around, and 
 two of them fired, the bullets just missing Potter's right arm. 
 The latter again attempted to fire this time with success, the 
 ball breaking the arm of one of the Indians. The other two 
 savages were unarmed. They at once seized their wounded 
 companion and hurried away. The white man might have 
 killed them all, but his gun was rusty and he was afraid to fire. 
 
 Returning to the ambulance, he got in, and drove rapidly 
 across the country. Reaching a dense thicket, he halted, 
 cleaned his gun, and was reloading it when, looking upward at 
 the top of a neighboring mountain, his quick eye detected two 
 Indians taking aim at him. He jumped aside just" in time to 
 save himself, and returned the fire. The Indians, however^ 
 dodged behind a rock, and were seen no more. Potter lost no 
 time in getting out of the region, and reached his little cabin, 
 in the mountains in safety. 
 
 With this incident our incomplete sketch of the Fighting 
 Parson must terminate. He is, no doubt, the greatest living 
 representative of a class of men who have been found ever on 
 our frontiers; brave in beating back the savages; dauntless in 
 rebuking the border ruffians; zealous and successful in planting 
 the seeds of law and order, of civilization and religion, in the 
 wild soil of the pioneer heart. The greater part of this man's 
 career, his encounters with ruffians at revival meetings, his ser 
 mons in desperate neighborhoods, with a pair of huge revolvers 
 lying before him on his pulpit, his eloquent addresses, his pure 
 religious zeal, lie outside of the scope of this work. He is still 
 living in Boerne, Western Texas, ardently engaged in his sacred 
 calling. The days of fights are long since over. At the age 
 of fifty-three, he is enabled to devote all his energies to the 
 gospel of peace. 
 
WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 
 
 937 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 
 
 HE treaty with the Iroquois, or Six Nations, at 
 Fort Stanwix (October 22, 1784), by which 
 these Indian tribes ceded to the United States 
 all their claims to the lands west of Pennsyl 
 vania, opened up the question of settling these 
 lands by the sturdy pioneers. But as other 
 Indian tribes claimed the right of domain, a 
 conference was held the next year at Fort 
 Mclntosh, near the mouth of Big Beaver Kiver, with the Chip- 
 pewas, Delawares, Ottawas, and Wyandots, and a treaty con 
 cluded for the purchase of -their claims. These treaties created 
 a great commotion among certain Western Indians, who claimed 
 that neither the Six Nations nor the tribes here mentioned had 
 a right to cede to the United States the land in question. Ac 
 cordingly, a large Indian council, composed of chiefs and dele 
 gations of the different Western tribes, was held in the month 
 of August, 1785 at Ouatenon, on the Wabash. At this council 
 it was reported that several Indians were killed at the hands 
 of the whites whereupon they demanded the removal even of 
 their old friends, the French inhabitants of Post Vincennes, de 
 claring that the Indians were determined to make war on the 
 American settlers, and that the French remaining would have to 
 share their fate. 
 
 In view of these proceedings, in the autumn of 1785, Major 
 Doughty was ordered to the mouth of the Muskingum, where 
 he erected Fort Harmar. Enraged at this inroad made upon 
 
938 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 their territory, as they claimed, the Indians made sallies into 
 Kentucky, killing the settlers, burning their cabins, and driving 
 away their cattle. 
 
 As these incursions were mostly undertaken by the Wabash 
 Indians, notably the Piankashaws, a commission was sent to 
 Post Vincennes, to treat separately with these tribes. Various 
 circumstances caused the change of time and place of this confer 
 ence, whereupon a treaty was made by Gen. Geo. Rogers Clark, 
 Richard Butler, and Samuel H. Parsons, the commissioners at 
 Fort Finney, at the mouth of the Great Miami (January 31, 
 1786) not, however, with the Piankashaws, and others named 
 in the original resolution, but with the Delawares, Wyandots, 
 and Shawanese whereby a tract of land was assigned these 
 tribes at the head-waters of the two Miamis and the Wabash, 
 west of the Chippewas. 
 
 Meanwhile the States of Connecticut and Virginia, which, 
 by their colonial charters, possessed a claim to all the lands 
 lying north-west of the Ohio River, ceded their title to the 
 general government, excepting a sufficient portion to satisfy the 
 military land-warrants issued to the officers and soldiers of the 
 regular line in the Revolutionary war. These exceptions are 
 known as the Connecticut or Western Reserve, and the Virginia 
 Military District the former in northern Ohio and the latter 
 between the Scioto and Little Miami rivers. 
 
 During the summer of 1786 Congress began to deliberate 
 upon a plan for the government of this Territory, and on July 
 13, 1787, the " Ordinance for the government of the territory 
 of the United States north-west of the river Ohio," was adopted. 
 Shortly thereafter (October 3d) Congress ordered seven hun 
 dred troops for the defense of the settlers, and two days later 
 Arthur St. Clair, a general of the Revolution, was appointed 
 governor of the newly organized territory. 
 
 As the way now seemed open for settlements, the " Ohio 
 Company," organized by officers of the army and others, in 
 Boston, the year before, held a meeting and adopted a plan for 
 
WA YNE'S SCO UTS. 941 
 
 a proposed colony on lands purchased by them on the Mus- 
 kingum River. Early in the spring of the year 1788, the settlers 
 left New England, and on April 7th the first settlement of 
 whites in Ohio was begun, under the ^auspices of this company, 
 at the mouth of the said river, where, on that day, the founda 
 tion was laid of the city of Marietta. The town was so named 
 in honor of the French queen, Marie Antoinette. The leaders 
 of the enterprise were Rufus Putnam, James H. Varnum, Ma- 
 nasseh Cutler, and Benjamin Tupper, and the purchase made by 
 them comprised 1,500,000 acres. The most remarkable build 
 ing which the settlers erected was a large fort, to be used as a 
 place of safety in case of attack by the savages. The streets 
 were surveyed, lots laid out, and a public square, named Campus 
 Martins, surrounding the fort, was reserved. 
 
 On July 9, 1788, the new governor arrived, and "the colony 
 began to assume form." Along with the governor, Samuel 
 Holden Parsons, John Armstrong, and James H. Varnum were 
 appointed judges, and Winthrop Sargent, secretary. A meeting 
 of these territorial officers was held on the 25th of the same 
 month, when the first law was enacted "for regulating and 
 establishing the militia," and the next day the official inaugu 
 ration of the territorial government was promulgated by the 
 reading of the governor's proclamation, erecting all the country 
 ceded by the Indians east of the Scioto River into the county 
 of Washington, and formally declaring the operations of the 
 laws of the United States, provided for the territory by the 
 ordinance of 1787, in force. On the 2d of September the first 
 court was held, and opened with becoming ceremonies, which 
 are described in the "American Pioneer," as follows : 
 
 " The procession was formed at the Point (where most of 
 the settlers resided), in the following order: 1st, the high sheriff 
 with his drawn sword ; 2d, the citizens ; 3d, the officers of the 
 garrison at Fort Harmar ; 4th, the members of the bar ; 5th, the 
 supreme judges ; 6th, the governor and clergymen ; 7th, the 
 newly appointed judges of the Common Pleas, Generals Rufus 
 
942 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Putnam and Benjamin Tupper. They marched up a path that 
 had been cut and cleared through the forest to Campus Martius 
 Hall (stockade), where the whole counter-marched, and the 
 judges (Putnam and Tupper) took their seats. The clergy 
 man, Rev. Dr. Cutler, then invoked the divine blessing. The 
 sheriff, Colonel Ebenezer Sproat (one of nature's nobles), pro 
 claimed with his solemn 'Oyez, that a court is opened for the 
 administration of even-handed justice to the poor and the rich, 
 to the guilty and the innocent, without respect to persons ; none 
 to be punished without a trial by their peers, and then in pur 
 suance of the laws and evidence in the case.'" 
 
 The instructions received by Governor St. Clair were of this 
 import : That, whereas no conclusive treaty had as yet been 
 made with all the Indian tribes in regard to the boundary, he 
 should endeavor to hold a general council with all those tribes 
 inhabiting the country north-west of the Ohio River and about 
 the lakes, at such times and places as he should appoint, for the 
 purpose of ascertaining the causes of uneasiness among them, 
 hearing their complaints, regulating the trade with them, and 
 amicably settling all affairs concerning the lands and boundaries 
 between them and the United States. After corresponding by 
 runners with the Indians, it was agreed, in deference to their 
 wishes, that a conference should be held at the falls of the Mus- 
 kingum, better known as " Duncan's Falls," in what they termed 
 their own country, beyond the guns of any fort. Early in June 
 1788, General Harmar received instructions from Pittsburgh, 
 where St. Clair, on his way to Fort Harmar, stayed a few weeks, 
 to send a detachment to " Duncan's Falls," and prepare there a 
 council-house and buildings for storing the goods to be distrib 
 uted among the Indians. 
 
 Unfortunately the detachment was treacherously attacked 
 by some renegade Chippewa and Ottawa Indians, and two 
 soldiers were killed and two others wounded, whereupon Gov 
 ernor St. Clair ordered the provisions back to Fort Harmar, and 
 changed the place for the conference to the fort. He immedi- 
 
WA YNE'S SCO UTS. 943 
 
 ately sent messengers with a speech to the various nations and 
 tribes, setting forth his reasons for the change, urging their 
 coming, and guaranteeing them an unmolested attendance and a 
 safe departure, whether a treaty should be concluded or not. 
 
 The Indians, who acted for the most part under the council 
 and advice of the celebrated Mohawk war-chief, JOSEPH BRANT 
 (Thayendanegea), held it, however, improper to change the loca 
 tion of the conference once determinated, and prepared them 
 selves for peace or war. They urged that the marauding 
 Indians at "Duncan's Falls," who committed the attack on the 
 sentries at the store-house, were none of the parties to the 
 treaty, but were mere straggling renegades ; and furthermore, 
 that they had delivered into the hands of the whites all of the 
 marauders, who were then prisoners at Fort Harmar. They fur 
 thermore assured them that the whites should have nothing to 
 fear at the falls, but on the contrary, that they themselves 
 could not feel easy, and consequently were hostile to holding a 
 council to adjust peace measures under the guns of Harmar and 
 Campus Martius. 
 
 Young John Brant, son of Thayendanegea, came down the 
 Tuscarawas and Muskingum trail with two hundred warriors, 
 camping at "Duncan's Falls," from where they informed Gov 
 ernor St. Clair by runners that they desired the treaty prelim 
 inaries to be fixed there. The governor suspected a plot to get 
 him to the falls and abduct him ; yet nothing had transpired that 
 would warrant any suspicion of that import. He sent Brant's 
 runners back with word that he would soon answer by a ranger. 
 
 The governor then selected for this important mission an ex 
 pert and trustworthy person, Hamilton Kerr, a comrade of the 
 celebrated Lewis Wetzel, the Indian hunter of the Ohio valley. 
 He was perfectly reliable, comparatively shrewd, and possessed 
 of a quick eye for observation of all such matters as might be 
 useful information for the governor. Kerr accordingly left Fort 
 Harmar on the road to " Duncan's Falls," to reconnoiter and to 
 deliver St. Glair's letter. 
 
944 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 But there was a third party that had overheard the arrange 
 ments made between the governor and the hunter. This was 
 St. Glair's eldest daughter, Louisa. She at once resolved to 
 become the messenger of her father's letter to John Brant, with 
 whom she had become acquainted in Philadelphia. Without 
 communicating her intention to any one, she set out from the 
 fort immediately after Kerr, whom she passed on the way, she 
 keeping the trail, while Kerr cautiously crept through the woods. 
 A short distance above Waterford, Kerr perceived fresh tracks, 
 and keeping the river in sight, crept on a bluff. Then rising 
 upon his feet to espy who caused the tracks, he heard the laugh 
 of a woman. Coming down to the trail he saw Louisa St. Clair 
 on a pony, dressed Indian style, with a short rifle over her 
 shoulder. 
 
 Stupefied with amazement, the ranger lost his speech, well 
 knowing Louisa, who was the bravest and boldest girl of all at 
 the fort. She had left, as has already been said, without the 
 knowledge of any one ; and calling " Ham " (as he was famil 
 iarly known) to his senses, told him she was going to " Dun 
 can's Falls " to see Brant. Expostulations on his part only 
 made her laugh the louder, and she twitted him on his comical 
 dress head turbaned with a red handkerchief, hunting-shirt, 
 but no trousers, the breech-clout taking their place. 
 
 Taking her pony by the head, he led it up to the trail, and 
 at night they supped on dried deer meat from Kerr's pouch. 
 The pony was tied, and Louisa sat against a tree and slept, 
 rifle in hand, while Kerr watched her. Next morning they 
 pursued their way, and finally came in sight of the Indian 
 camp. She then took her father's letter from the ranger, and 
 telling him to hide and await her return, dashed off on her pony 
 directly into the Indian camp, where she soon became a prisoner. 
 She asked for Brant, who appeared in war panoply, but was 
 abashed at her gaze. She handed him the letter, remarking 
 that they had met before, he as a student on a visit from col 
 lege to Philadelphia, and she as the daughter of St. Clair at 
 
WA YNE'S SCO UTS. 945 
 
 school. He bowed, being educated, read the letter, and became 
 excited. Louisa, perceiving this, said she had risked her life 
 to see him, and asked for a guard back to Marietta. Brant told 
 her he guarded the brave, and would accompany her home. In 
 the evening of the third day they arrived with Hamilton Kerr 
 at the fort, where she introduced Brant to her father, relating 
 the incident. After some hours Brant was escorted out fcf the 
 lines, returned to the falls, and went up the valley with his 
 warriors. 
 
 The treaty concluded at Port Harmar February 9, 1789, was 
 followed with naught but evil for the settlers in the territory, 
 though two additional tribes, the Sacs and the Pottawatamies, 
 had joined in the confirmation of the treaty of Fort Mclntosh, 
 the only result realized at this treaty. A period of Indian mur 
 ders and wars now set in, which lasted with alternately increas 
 ing and diminishing waves until the year 1795. Yet even at 
 that time, when destruction threatened all the whites, at the 
 hands of the enraged savages, the emigration westward was 
 very great. The commandant at Fort Harmar reported that 
 four thousand and five hundred persons passed that post be 
 tween February and June in the year 1788. 
 
 In the year 1787 Captain Abraham Covalt came to Ohio 
 from Redstone in Pennsylvania, and effected a settlement on 
 the Little Miami, near where Milford now stands. The same 
 year Judge John Cleves Symmes, of New Jersey, crossed the 
 Alleghanies with a small party for the purposes of exploration 
 and purchasing land in the new territory, and, while in the 
 Miami country, fell in with Major Benjamin Stites, of Redstone, 
 who had been pursuing some Indian horse-thieves. The latter, 
 learning the intentions of Symmes and his party, at once set 
 about securing an interest in the new purchase. When the ex 
 plorers returned east, Symmes obtained from Congress a grant of 
 all the .lands lying between the two Miami Rivers, and running 
 north to the treaty line, the entire tract being supposed to con 
 tain one million acres. Upon actual survey it was found to con- 
 
 53 
 
946 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 tain only about 750,000 acres, and of this Symmes eventually 
 paid for less than 250,000. As soon as he had obtained from 
 Congress the patent to his lands, he published (November 26, 
 1787) a pamphlet, setting forth in most glowing terms the beau 
 ties and value of the " Miami Lands," together with the advan 
 tages offered to the first settlers. 
 
 Encouraged by the reports of the fertility of the soil, the 
 prospects of larger gains, and the advantages to be secured for 
 themselves and their families, a small party, composed mostly 
 of land surveyors and agents, immediately left New Jersey to 
 visit the "Miami Purchase." Among this party was Matthias 
 Denman, who bought from Symmes the eighteenth section and 
 the fractional section seventeen bordering on the Ohio River, 
 of the first fractional range of Symmes's lands, between seven 
 and eight hundred acres, at a price of five shillings per acre, 
 continental currency, then worth but five shillings per pound. 
 Upon this land, for which Denman paid, in real value, only 
 about $125, is now situated the principal portion of the city 
 of Cincinnati, with its thousands of elegant palaces and business 
 blocks, valued at upwards of a hundred million dollars. 
 
 When Denman arrived at Limestone (now Maysville, Ky.), 
 he associated himself with Colonel Robert Patterson and a per 
 son named Jean Filson, a Frenchman from Kentucky, who 
 acted as a school-master in Lexington, and likewise as a land- 
 surveyor. Filson was a man of some prominence in the western 
 backwoods, having written a "History of Kentucky," which 
 was published in Philadelphia, and of which a French and Ger 
 man edition had likewise appeared, the first in Paris, the latter 
 in Frankfort-on-the-Main. These three men resolved to found 
 a town upon the Denman purchase, of which Filson, who knew 
 the place, prepared a plan, calling it Losantiville. This name 
 which was a curious combination of Greek, Latin, and French, 
 was to designate at once the locality of the town : " L," standing 
 for Licking ; " os" the mouth ; " anti" opposite ; and " ville" the 
 village The village opposite the mouth of the Licking River. 
 
WA YNE >S SCO UTS. 947 
 
 In December, a party, among them Patterson, Filson, Judge 
 Symmes, and others, made an expedition to the Miami valley, 
 from which Filson never returned, having been probably mur 
 dered by the Indians. 
 
 The first actual settlers of the town arrived December 28, 
 1788, and in the spring thereafter the first log-cabin was erected 
 on the spot where now the great metropolis of the Ohio valley 
 stands. Already, however, two other settlements had been be 
 gun on the lands of Symmes. In November, 1788, Major Stites 
 (Heckewelder says his name, properly spelled, was Steitz, which, 
 pronounced in German, is identical with the English Stites), 
 Colonel Spencer, Major Gano, Judge Goforth, and others, settled 
 themselves a short distance below the mouth of the Little Miami 
 river, calling the place " Columbia," and on January 29, 1789, 
 Judge Symmes left Limestone with another party, settling at the 
 North Bend, where he had designated that the future great city 
 of the Miami country should be located, and which he named 
 in honor of his mother, " Cleves." When the latter party 
 arrived at the Bend, they immediately proceeded to erect from 
 the planks of the flat-boats, with which they had descended the 
 river, a number of temporary huts to shelter them against the 
 cold, rain, and snow. At the earnest solicitations of the judge, 
 General Harmar had in December, 1788, dispatched a company 
 under command of Captain Kearsey, numbering forty-eight rank 
 and file, to protect the improvements just begun or in contem 
 plation of beginning, in the Miami country, and a party was 
 also sent from Limestone to guard the settlement at Columbia, 
 where they soon after arrived. When Captain Kearsey left 
 Fort Harmar, it was his intention to occupy with his men 
 " Fort Finney," at the mouth of the Great Miami, which had 
 shortly before been erected there by Captain Ziegler, and which 
 was located somewhat in close proximity of Symmes's intended 
 settlement at the Bend. This intention was, however, not con 
 summated, on account of the flood in the river, which spread 
 over the lowlands, rendered it difficult to reach the fort, where- 
 
948 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 upon Captain Kearsey descended with his men to " Fort Steu- 
 ben," at the falls of the Ohio (now Louisville), leaving the 
 settlers of Cleves entirely unprotected. 
 
 Symmes complained to Major Willis, the commander at the 
 falls, of the conduct of Captain Kearsey, and urging the neces 
 sity of protection of the settlers, asked that a fort might be 
 built at the Bend. As Captain Kearsey reported that " Fort 
 Finney " was unavailable for the guarding of the settlement 
 there, Major Willis dispatched .Ensign Lutz, with a squad of 
 seventeen or eighteen men, to Cleves, which, for the time, 
 removed the apprehensions of the pioneers at that place. It 
 was not long, however, before the Indians made an attack on 
 them, in which one soldier was killed, and one soldier and four 
 or five other persons were wounded. 
 
 Although the three settlements in the Miami purchase had 
 but one object in* view and shared the common danger, yet 
 there existed a strong spirit of rivalry among them, each feel 
 ing a peculiar pride in the prosperity of the particular colony 
 to which he belonged. That spirit produced a strong influ 
 ence of the feelings on the pioneers of the different villages, 
 and an esprit de corps, scarcely to be expected under circum 
 stances so critical and dangerous as those which threatened 
 them. For some time it was a matter of doubt which of 
 the rivals, Columbia, Cincinnati, or North Bend (Cleves) would 
 eventually becohie the chief seat of business. In the beginning 
 Columbia, the eldest of the three, took the lead, both in num 
 ber of its inhabitants, and the convenience and appearance of 
 its dwellings. It was a flourishing village, and many believed 
 it would become the great business town of the Miami country. 
 That delusion, however, lasted but a short time. Next, the 
 North Bend settlement gained a decided advantage over it, 
 especially since the landing of the troops to protect the settlers, 
 which induced many of the first adventurers to plant them 
 selves there, believing that the place would thus afford them 
 greater security than the other localities. 
 
WA YNE'S SCO UTS. 949 
 
 It appears, however, that Ensign Lutz, the commander of 
 the little party posted there for the protection of the settlers, 
 did not feel himself positively bound to erect the fort at any 
 particular place, but that he had the liberty to select the best 
 spot calculated to afford the most extensive protection to the set 
 tlers at large. Viewing his duty in that light, he put up a small 
 temporary work, sufficiently strong to give security to his men, 
 however much Judge Symmes entreated him to erect at once a 
 substantial and spacious block-house sufficient for the protection 
 of the inhabitants of the village. In fact, Ensign Lutz shortly 
 thereafter left the Bend and went to Losantiville with his com 
 mand, where he immediately began the construction of a strong 
 military work, which was completed during the course of the 
 summer of 1789, when Major Doughty arrived here with troops 
 from Fort Harmar. There is a romantic story connected with 
 this change of base on the part of Ensign Lutz, which is told 
 by Judge Burnet in his " Notes on the Early Settlement of the 
 North-western Territory," as follows : 
 
 "While the officer in command at North Bend was looking 
 out very leisurely for a suitable site on which to build the 
 block-house, he formed an acquaintance with a beautiful black- 
 eyed female, who called forth his most assiduous and tender 
 attentions. She was the wife of one of the settlers at the 
 Bend. Her husband saw the danger to which he would be 
 exposed if he remained where he was. He therefore resolved 
 at once to remove to Losantiville, and very promptly executed 
 his resolution. As soon as the gallant commandant discovered 
 that the object of his admiration had changed her residence he 
 began to think that the Bend was not an advantageous situation 
 for a military work, and communicated that opinion to Judge 
 Symmes, who strenuously opposed it. His reasoning, however, 
 was not as persuasive as the sparkling eyes of the fair Dul- 
 cinea, then at Losantiville. The result was a determination to 
 visit Losantiville and examine its advantages for a military 
 post, which he communicated to the judge, with an assurance 
 
950 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 that if, on examination, it did not prove to be the most eligible 
 place, he would return and erect the fort at the Bend. The 
 visit was quickly made and resulted in a conviction that the 
 Bend could not be compared with Losantiville as a military 
 position. The troops were accordingly removed to that place, 
 and the building of a block-house commenced. That movement, 
 produced by a cause whimsical and apparently trivial in itself, 
 was attended with results of incalculable importance. It set 
 tled the question, whether North Bend or Cincinnati was to be 
 the great commercial town of the Miami country. Thus we 
 see what unexpected results are sometimes produced by cir 
 cumstances apparently trivial. The incomparable beauty of a 
 Spartan dame produced a ten years' war, which terminated in 
 the destruction of Troy; and the irresistible charms of another 
 female transferred the commercial emporium of Ohio from the 
 place where it had been commenced to the place where it now 
 is. If this captivating American Helen had continued at the 
 Bend, the garrison would have been erected there, population, 
 capital, and business would have centered there, and there 
 would have been the Queen City of the West." 
 
 Hardly was the "Fort Washington," as it was called, at 
 Losantiville completed when General Harmar, in December, 
 1789, removed his head-quarters from Marietta thither, taking 
 possession of the fort with three companies, leaving Major 
 Denny in command of Fort Harmar. On the second day of 
 January thereafter Governor St. Clair arrived at Fort Washing 
 ton, on his way to Fort Steuben, stopping over for a few days. 
 He was much pleased with the fort and the settlement adjoin 
 ing it, so he at once resolved to remove the seat of government 
 from Marietta to Cincinnati. He issued on January 5th a proc 
 lamation, dividing the entire territory into four counties, as fol 
 lows : All that portion lying east of the Scioto River and south 
 of the treaty line was called Washington county ; that part 
 lying between the Scioto and the Big Miami rivers was called 
 Hamilton county ; the territory between the Big Miami and 
 
WA YNE>S SCOUTS. 951 
 
 Wabash rivers was called Knox county, and the part west of 
 the Wabash to the Mississippi was called St. Clair county. At 
 the same time he changed the name " Losantiville," into " Cin 
 cinnati/' which name appears for the first time in St. Glair's 
 proclamation of January 5, 1790. 
 
 The continued influx of whites into the territory annoyed 
 the Indians greatly. They resolved, at all hazards, to repress 
 these inroads upon their hunting-grounds. Councils were held 
 in the villages on the Muskingum and the upper Miamis, as 
 well as at Detroit; and the most threatening and highly inflam 
 matory speeches were uttered against the settlers, whom they 
 agreed to drive again across the Ohio River. During the winter 
 1789-1790 all the settlements began to swarm with Indians 
 around them, lurking about the woods and fields, killing those 
 that dared to venture without the reach of the guns of the forts 
 and block-houses. 
 
 The whites were by no means at ease during this state of 
 affairs. Scouts were engaged, bold and daring men, to watch 
 every movement of the savages, and to report their prepara 
 tions. As early as the year 1789, General Harmar engaged quite 
 a number of them, of which the brothers Robert and William 
 McClellan, John White, and the brothers Miller were the most 
 noted and skillful adventurers. Of Robert McClellan and White 
 the following thrilling incident is related by the venerable Gen 
 eral John Sanderson, of Lancaster, as communicated by Rev. J. 
 B. Finley in his autobiography. 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1790 the block-house and 
 stockade above the mouth of the Hockhocking River was a 
 frontier post for the hardy pioneers of the North-western Terri 
 tory. In its vicinity nature was as yet undisturbed in its pris 
 tine condition. The ax of the woodsman had not been heard 
 here, nor had the bosom of the earth been ripped open by the 
 furrowing plow of the busy husbandman. A primeval forest 
 stretched itself in every direction for miles and miles, only 
 interrupted here and there by small spots of green and flowing 
 
952 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 prairies, waving their golden bloom in the silent beauty of 
 nature. One of the most luxuriant of these prairies of the 
 Hockhocking valley was where the town of Lancaster now 
 stands. Its beauty, fertility of the soil, and picturesqueness 
 of scenery attracted even the savages, who built here one of 
 their principal villages. Its location in the south-eastern center 
 of what is now the State of Ohio, well advanced both towards 
 the settlements at Marietta and Cincinnati, made it a suitable 
 place for the concentration of the Indian warriors in an attempt 
 upon either of these colonies. The tribes north and west would 
 meet here to consult, and from here the war-paths led forth in 
 different directions. 
 
 It was but natural, during the exciting period of 1789-90, 
 when the aggressions upon their soil were advancing onward 
 slowly, but firmly, from the mouths of the Muskingum and the 
 Miamis, threatening the eventual complete inundation of all 
 the territory south of the Lake Erie, that this place, lying 
 almost equi-distant from both threatening localities, should 
 be selected as the place of rendezvous of the Indians, whose 
 war-spirit was up and whose tomahawks had been unburied for 
 active hostility. Information was soon received at the garrison 
 of Fort Harmar that the Indians were gathering for the purpose 
 of striking a blow at some one of the frontier settlements ; and 
 to meet this crisis, the commandant dispatched two of the most 
 trustworthy and best skilled spies to watch their movements, 
 and report the same. These two men were Robert McClellan 
 and John White, " two spirits that never quailed at danger, and 
 as unconquerable as the Libyan lion." In the early autumn 
 of 1790 they left their comrades at Marietta and moved on 
 through the thick plum and hazel bushes with the noiseless 
 tread of the panther, armed with their unerring and trusty 
 rifles. Having arrived in the vicinity of the Indian village, they 
 climbed the prominence now known as -Mount Pleasant, whose 
 western termination is a perpendicular cliff of rocks, several 
 hundred feet in height, and from which a beautiful view is had 
 
WA YNE'S SCO UTS. 953 
 
 of the entire plain. Here our spies took up a position from 
 which they could observe all the movements of the Indians in 
 the valley below. Every day added new accessions of war 
 riors to the company. They witnessed their exercises of horse- 
 racing, running foot-races, ball-playing, jumping, throwing the 
 tomahawk, and dancing the old sachems looking on with their 
 Indian indifference, the squaws engaged in their usual drudgery, 
 and the children in their playful gambols. The arrival of each 
 new war party was greeted with terrible shouts, which, striking 
 the mural face of Mount Pleasant, re-echoed from the various 
 indentations of the surrounding hills in a thousand reverbera 
 tions, as if a million fiends were gathered at a universal revelry. 
 Terrific as these yells would sound in the ear of those unac 
 customed to Indian war-festivities, they were but martial music 
 to our spies ; strains, which awakened their watchfulness, and 
 newly strung their courage and bravery. From their early 
 youth they had been accustomed to it, having been bred in the 
 frontiers. They were well practiced in all the subtilty, craft, 
 iind cunning of the Indian warfare, as well as the ferocity and 
 blood-thirsty nature of the savage warriors, and consequently 
 not at all excited at the scenes seen in and heard from the 
 valley at their feet. 
 
 The place of observation selected by them was well chosen; 
 nor did they neglect to efface carefully and completely all traces 
 of their presence. On several occasions small parties of Indians 
 would ascend Mount Pleasant from the eastern side for the 
 purpose of scouting the country in the vicinity of their camp 
 ing-ground, in order to satisfy themselves that they were not 
 watched or surprised by their enemy. Then the spies would 
 seclude themselves in the deep fissures of the rocks on the 
 west, again leaving their hiding-places when their uninvited and 
 unwelcome visitors had disappeared. Besides this, their place 
 was well-secured, having but one narrow entrance over a ridge, 
 which could be passed by only one person at a time, and which 
 was in complete command of their rifles. They were, therefore, 
 
954 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 not likely to be ensnared by the cunning of their foes, nor to 
 fall victims to their scalping-knives and tomahawks, without a 
 desperate, and on their part, advantageous struggle. 
 
 For food they depended on jerked venison and corn bread, 
 with which their knapsacks were well filled. They dared not 
 kindle a fire, and the report of a shot from one of their rifles 
 would at once have divulged their presence, and brought upon 
 them the entire force of the Indians. For drink they depended 
 upon some rain-water which still stood in the hollows of some 
 of the rocks ; but, after a short period, this store was exhausted, 
 and they were thrown upon the alternative of either finding a 
 new supply or abandoning their position. There was, however^ 
 the river flowing at the foot of the rock, and from it they 
 resolved to procure their drink. But it was a dangerous under 
 taking, for the river was open to the view of the village, and 
 the party being discovered would unquestionably bring upon 
 him the savages, with the unerring shots from their rifles or the 
 fatal arrow. To accomplish this most hazardous enterprise^ 
 McClellan, being the oldest, resolved to make the attempt ; and, 
 with his trustworthy rifle in his hand, and their two canteens 
 strung across his shoulders, he cautiously descended by a cir 
 cuitous route to the prairie, skirting the hills on the north, and, 
 under cover of the hazel thickets, he reached the river, and, 
 turning a bold point of the hill, he found a beautiful and fresh 
 spring within a few feet of the river bank. He filled his can 
 teens, and returned in safety to his companion. It was now 
 determined to have a fresh supply of water every day, and this 
 duty was performed alternately. But " the jug," says the pro 
 verb, " goes to the well until it breaks ;" and the procuring of 
 their water-supply was destined one day to end their obser 
 vations. This episode is described by General Sanderson, as 
 follows : 
 
 " On one of these occasions, after White had filled his 
 canteens, he sat a few minutes watching the limpid element as 
 it came gurgling out of the bosom of the earth, when the light 
 
WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 955 
 
 sound of footsteps caught his practiced ear, and upon turning 
 around he saw two squaws within a few feet of him. Upon, 
 turning the jut of the hill, the eldest squaw gave one of those 
 far-reaching whoops peculiar to Indians. White at once com 
 prehended his perilous situation. If the alarm should reach the 
 camps or town, he and his companion must inevitably perish. 
 Self-preservation compelled him to inflict a noiseless death on 
 the squaws, and in such a manner as, if possible, to leave no 
 trace behind. Ever rapid in thought and prompt in action, he 
 sprang upon his victims with the rapidity and power of the lion, 
 and, grasping the throat of each, sprang into the river. He 
 thrust the head of the eldest under the water. While making 
 strong efforts to submerge the younger, who, however, power 
 fully resisted him, and during the short struggle with this 
 young athlete, to his astonishment, she addressed him in his 
 own language, though in almost inarticulate sounds. Releasing 
 his hold, she informed him that she had been a prisoner for ten 
 years, and was taken from below Wheeling, and that the Indians 
 had killed all the family, and that her brother and herself were 
 taken prisoners, but he succeeded on the second night in mak 
 ing his escape. During this narrative White had drowned the 
 elder squaw, and had let her float off with the current, where 
 it would not, probably, be found out soon. He now directed 
 the girl to follow him, and, with his usual speed and energy, 
 pushed for the mount. They had scarcely gone half-way when 
 they heard the alarm-cry some quarter of a mile down the 
 stream. It was supposed some party of Indians, returning 
 from hunting, had struck the river just as the body of the 
 squaw floated past. White and the girl succeeded in reaching 
 the mount, where McClellan had been no indifferent spectator 
 to the sudden commotion among the Indians. The prairie 
 party of warriors were seen immediately to strike off in every 
 direction, and White and the girl had scarcely arrived before 
 a party of some twenty warriors reached the eastern acclivity 
 of the mount and were cautiously and carefully keeping under 
 
956 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 cover. Soon the spies saw their swarthy foes as they glided 
 from tree to tree and rock to rock, till their position was sur 
 rounded, except on the western perpendicular side, and all hope 
 of escape was cut off. In this perilous condition, nothing was 
 left but to sell their lives as dearly as possible, and this they 
 resolved to do, and advised the girl to escape to the Indians, 
 and tell them she had been taken prisoner. She said, ' No ! 
 death to me, in the presence of my own people, is a thousand 
 times sweeter than captivity and slavery. Furnish me with 'a 
 gun, and I will show you I can fight as well as die. This 
 place I leave not. Here my bones shall lie bleaching with 
 yours, and should either of you escape, you will carry the 
 tidings of my death to my few relations.' Remonstrance proved 
 fruitless. The two spies matured their plan of defense, and 
 vigorously commenced the attack from the front, where, from 
 the narrow backbone of the mount, the savages had to advance 
 in single file and without any covert. Beyond this neck the 
 warriors availed themselves of the rocks and trees in advanc 
 ing, but in passing from one to the other they must be exposed 
 for a short time, and a moment's exposure of their swarthy 
 forms was enough for the unerring rifles of the spies. The 
 Indians being entirely ignorant of how many were in ambus 
 cade, made them the more cautious how they advanced. 
 
 "After bravely maintaining the fight in front and keeping 
 the enemy in check, they discovered a new danger threatening 
 them. The arch foe now made evident preparations to attack 
 them on the flank, which could be most successfully done by 
 reaching an isolated rock lying in one of the ravines on the 
 southern hill-side. This rock once gained by the Indians, they 
 could bring the spies under point-blank shot of the rifle without 
 the possibility of escape. Our brave spies saw the hopelessness 
 of their situation, which nothing could avert but a brave com 
 panion and an unerring shot. These they had not; but the 
 brave never despair. With this impending fate resting upon 
 them they continued calm and calculating, and as unwearied as 
 
WA YNE 'S SCO UTS. 957 
 
 the strongest desire of life and the resistance of a numerous foe 
 could produce. Soon McClellan saw a tall and swarthy figure 
 preparing to spring from a covert so near to the fatal rock that 
 a bound or two would reach it and all hope of life then was 
 gone. He felt that all depended on one single advantageous 
 shot; and, although but an inch or two of the warrior's body 
 was exposed, and that at a distance of eighty or a hundred 
 yards, he resolved to risk all, coolly raised his rifle to his face, 
 and shading the sight with his hand, he drew a bead so sure 
 that he felt conscious it would do the deed. He touched the 
 trigger with his finger; the hammer came down, but, in place of 
 striking fire, it broke his flint into many pieces ; and, although 
 he felt that the Indian must reach the rock before he could ad 
 just another flint, he proceeded to the task with the utmost 
 composure. Casting his eye to the fearful point suddenly he 
 saw the warrior stretching every muscle for the leap ; and with 
 the agility of the panther he made the spring, but instead of 
 reaching the rock, he gave a most hideous yell, and his dark 
 body fell and rolled down the steep into the valley below. He 
 had evidently received a death shot from some unknown hand. 
 A hundred voices re-echoed from below the terrible shout. It 
 was evident that they had lost a favorite warrior as well as 
 being disappointed, for a time, of the most important movement. 
 A very few minutes proved that the advantage gained would be 
 of short duration ; for already the spies caught a glimpse of a 
 tall, swarthy warrior, cautiously advancing to the covert so 
 recently occupied by his fellow-companion. Now, too, the at 
 tack in front was renewed with increased fury, so as to require 
 the incessant fire of both spies to prevent the Indians from 
 gaining the eminence ; and in a short time McClellan saw a 
 warrior making preparations to leap on the fatal rock. The leap 
 was made, and the Indian turning a somersault, his corpse rolled 
 down the hill toward his former companion. Again an unknown 
 agent had interposed in their behalf. This second sacrifice cast 
 dismay into the ranks of the assailants, and just as the sun was 
 
958 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 disappearing behind the western hills the foe withdrew for a 
 short distance to devise some new mode of attack. This respite 
 came most seasonably to our spies, who had kept their ground 
 and bravely maintained the unequal fight from nearly the mid 
 dle of the day. 
 
 " Now, for the first time, was the girl missing ; and the spies 
 thought that through terror she had escaped to her former cap 
 tors, or that she had been killed during the fight; but they were 
 not long left to conjecture. The girl was seen emerging from 
 behind a rock and coming to them with a rifle in her hand. 
 During the heat of the fight she saw a warrior fall, who had 
 advanced some distance before the rest, and, while some of them 
 changed their position, she resolved at once, live or die, to pos 
 sess herself of his gun and ammunition ; and crouching down 
 beneath the underbrush, she crawled to the place and succeeded 
 in her enterprise. Her keen and watchful eye had early noticed 
 the fatal rock, and hers was the mysterious hand by which the 
 two warriors fell ; the last being the most intrepid and blood 
 thirsty of the Shawnee tribe, and the leader of the company 
 which killed her mother and sister, and took her and her brother 
 prisoners. 
 
 "Now in the west arose dark clouds, which soon overspread 
 the whole heavens, and the elements were rent with the peals 
 of thunder. Darkness, deep and gloomy, shrouded the whole 
 heavens ; this darkness greatly embarrassed the spies in their 
 contemplated night escape, supposing that they might readily 
 lose their way, and accidentally fall on their enemy ; but a 
 short consultation decided the plan. It was agreed that the 
 girl should go foremost, from her intimate knowledge of the 
 localities, and another advantage might be gained in case they 
 should fall in with any of the parties or outposts from her 
 knowledge of their language she might deceive the sentinels, as 
 the sequel proved ; for scarcely had they descended a hundred 
 yards, when a low whist from the girl warned them of their 
 danger. The spies sunk silently to the ground, where, by pre- 
 
WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 959 
 
 vious engagement, they were to remain till the signal was given 
 by the girl to move on. Her absence for the space of a quarter 
 of an hour began to excite the most serious apprehensions. 
 Again she appeared, and told them she had succeeded in re 
 moving two sentinels to a short distance, who were directly in 
 their route. 
 
 " The descent was noiselessly resumed, and the spies followed 
 their intrepid leader for a half mile in the most profound silence, 
 when the barking of a dog at a short distance apprised them of 
 new danger. The almost simultaneous click of the spies' rifles 
 was heard by the girl, who stated that they were now in the 
 midst of the Indian camps, and their lives now depended on the 
 most profound silence and implicitly following her footsteps. A 
 moment afterward the girl was accosted by a squaw from an 
 opening in her wigwam; she replied in the Indian language, and 
 without stopping, still pressed forward. In a short time she 
 stopped, and assured the spies that the village was now cleared, 
 and that they had passed the greatest danger. She knew that 
 every leading path was guarded safely by the Indians, and at 
 once resolved to adopt the bold adventure of passing through 
 the center of the village as the least hazardous, and the sequel 
 proved the correctness of her judgment. They now steered a 
 course for the Ohio River, and, after three days' travel, arrived 
 safely at the block-house. Their escape and adventure pre 
 vented the Indians from their contemplated attack. The res 
 cued girl proved to be the sister of the intrepid Corneal 
 Washburn, celebrated in the history of Indian warfare and 
 as the renowned spy of Captain Simon Kenton's bloody 
 Kentuckians." 
 
 After their failure on the part of the savages in their 
 attempted surprise of Fort Harmar, the western tribes again 
 withdrew to their villages on the Maumee and Auglaize rivers. 
 General Harmar now resolved to punish them in their own coun 
 try. He advanced cautiously from Fort Washington in October, 
 1790, to destroy their villages on the Maumee. Upon reaching 
 
960 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the Indian towns which lay around the forks of this river (now 
 Fort Wayne, Indiana), he began to destroy the Indian fields 
 and huts in the outskirts of their camp, whereby his troops 
 became so much divided, that they were separately attacked 
 and routed by the savages under their war-chief Little Turtle. 
 General Harmar, after this disaster, thought it prudent to retire 
 again to Fort Washington. He had instructions for the erection 
 of a fort on the Maumee, but his troops after the defeat became 
 unreliable, and, as the supplies were short, and the season being 
 too far advanced to bring forward others, the enterprise was 
 dropped. General Harmar, the next year, was dismissed from 
 the service. 
 
 The savages, intoxicated with joy over the defeat of their 
 adversaries, now swarmed all over the country and around the 
 settlements, striking terror into the hearts of even the hardiest 
 of the pioneers. A cry went up to the general government, 
 demanding energetic measures in the premises, Harmar's dis 
 astrous defeat having demonstrated the necessity of imposing 
 some strong check upon the aggressions of the northern Indians ; 
 and new measures were devised for the attainment of that end. 
 Governor St. Clair was at once appointed a major-general in the 
 service of Congress, and vested with the power of a commander- 
 in-chief of the United States forces. Orders Avere given for 
 the recruiting of a large and effective army, and besides, the 
 militia of Pennsylvania, Virginia, and Kentucky were called 
 into action. 
 
 While this powerful army was organizing and concentrating 
 at Fort Washington, Colonels Scott and Wilkinson were sent 
 in the summer of 1791 on an expedition into the lower Wabash 
 country, where they succeeded in destroying several Indian 
 towns and fields, which, coupled with the same policy pursued by 
 Harmar, led the Indians, stimulated by the British, to the belief 
 that the government policy was to exterminate the race and 
 seize their lands. In this belief they were confirmed when 
 they witnessed the extensive preparations making by St. Clair 
 
WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 961 
 
 for his expedition. Still, flushed with their success achieved 
 over General Harmar, they continued to devastate the settle 
 ments on the borders of the territory from one end to the other, 
 carrying murder and pillage everywhere, even to the very walls 
 of the strongly garrisoned Fort Washington. St. Clair used 
 every endeavor to entreat them to a peaceful disposition. He 
 urged them to take part in a council at Cincinnati, so that the 
 troubles daily augmenting more and more might be adjusted in 
 a peaceable manner. 
 
 The settlers, however, believing that the meek and timid 
 policy of the government was the very cause of the threatening 
 situation, became highly indignant at these treaties and parleys. 
 "While the governor is holding peace conferences," they said, 
 " the savages are destroying our homes and our fields, stealing or 
 killing our animals, and murdering our wives and children." These 
 complaints on the part of the whites were not far from the truth. 
 " On the evening of the 2d [January, 1791]," writes Rufus Put 
 nam to the President, " between sunset and daylight, the Indians 
 surprised a new settlement of our people at a place on the Mus- 
 kingum called the Big Bottom, nearly forty miles up the river, 
 in which disaster eleven men, one woman, and two children 
 were killed ; three men are missing, and four others made their 
 escape. Thus, sir, the war, which was partially waged before 
 the campaign of last year, is, in all probability, become general." 
 
 Nor were the hardy pioneer women any less severe in their 
 criticism of the fatal policy pursued by the authorities. It 
 was chiefly they that threatened to storm Fort Washington 
 when the celebrated ranger Lewis Wetzel was a prisoner 
 therein. And when Wetzel was released upon a habeas corpus, 
 they escorted him in procession to Columbia, where the ladies 
 arranged a banquet and ball in honor of the liberation of the 
 great hunter, " who had killed more 'Indians than any other 
 man." Thus, at the time when these peace councils were held, 
 the white settlers used all their influence to compel the author 
 ities to a strong policy and to a war of extermination. Women 
 
 54 
 
962 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 would rush into the council meetings and complain of the mur 
 der of their husbands and relatives, crying aloud for revenge, 
 and uttering sometimes threats of masculine terseness, inciting 
 thereby the Indians to violence. Inflamed by these utterances, 
 and urged on by jealousy and hatred, what else could be 
 expected but that the Indians would not only continue, but 
 increase, their depredations upon the frontier settlements ? 
 
 Yet some of the Indian chiefs actually desired peace. Even 
 Joseph Brant, the great war-chief of the Five Nations, advised a 
 general peace, " by all means, if it could be effected upon hon 
 orable and liberal terms." On the other hand, the western 
 tribes, doubtless instigated by the British agents and under 
 their control, urged on the quarrel about to burst forth. 
 
 At last the numerous appeals reached the ear of the general 
 government, as we have seen, and preparations were made for a 
 powerful assault upon the war-thirsty tribes of the west. Gov 
 ernor St. Clair, at the head of an army of upwards of three 
 thousand strong, marched against them. Early on the morning 
 of the 4th of November, 1791, the advance of this expedition, 
 about fourteen hundred strong, was surprised in its camp on the 
 banks of the Wabash, in the south-west part of Mercer county, 
 Ohio, and entirely dispersed, with a loss of more than six hun 
 dred men. 
 
 This aroused Congress to a different policy. The command 
 ing officers of the hitherto fatal expeditions might have been 
 good generals, and undoubtedly were, in a combat with civilized 
 armies, but they were entirely unaccustomed to an Indian war 
 fare. How General Washington, who was reared to this class 
 of fighting from his youth, could have committed the fatal 
 blunder of selecting generals devoid of training in the peculiar 
 duties demanded of them, is quite inexplicable. The lessons 
 received were, however, not in vain. A new commander was 
 selected, and this time a man, who had fought both whites 
 and Indians, who possessed not only unquestioned courage, but 
 likewise a keen conception and quick resolve in his actions, the 
 
WA YNE 'S SCO UTS. 963 
 
 intrepid hero of Stony Point, General Anthony Wayne. This 
 selection was made despite the opposition of, or as Governor 
 Lee of Virginia puts it, "to the extreme disgust among, all 
 orders in the Old Dominion." But the President had selected 
 Wayne not hastily, nor through partiality or influence, and no 
 idle words affected him. 
 
 In June, 1792, Wayne moved westward to Pittsburgh, and 
 proceeded to organize the army, which was to be the ultimate 
 arbitrator between the Americans and the Indian confederation. 
 Through the summer of 1792 the preparations of the soldiers 
 were steadily attended to. "Train and discipline them for the 
 service they are meant for," said Washington, "and do not 
 spare powder and lead, so the men be made marksmen." In 
 December, 1792, the forces, now recruited and trained, were 
 gathered at a point about twenty-two miles below Pittsburgh, 
 on the Ohio, in a camp which was called Legionville, the army 
 itself having been denominated the Legion of the United States. 
 
 While Wayne's army was gathering and practicing target- 
 shooting, the peace measures of the United States were pressed 
 with equal perseverance. In the first place, an expedition was 
 sent to examine the field of the late disastrous conflict. This 
 body reached the place of their destination in February, 1792, 
 and from the letter of Captain Buntin to St. Clair, relative to 
 what was found there, we take the following passage : " In 
 my opinion, those unfortunate men who fell into the enemy's 
 hands with life were used with the greatest torture having 
 their limbs torn off; and the women have been treated with 
 the most indecent cruelty, having stakes as thick as a person's 
 arm drove through their bodies." Next there were peace com 
 missioners sent to the various tribes. In the spring of that 
 year Colonel Trueman repaired to the Miami villages with 
 friendly messages, offering reasonable terms. Other peace mes 
 sengers were sent to the Indians on the lower Wabash, accom 
 panied by the Moravian missionary, John Heckewelder, to effect 
 a friendly adjudication of the difficulties with the tribes. 
 
964 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 On the part of the Indians these peace-offerings were re 
 ceived with a diversity of opinions. While some of their chiefs, 
 among them the Wyandot war-chief Little Turtle, were urging 
 the acceptance of the terms offered, others, as yet intoxicated 
 with their easy victories obtained over largely superior armies, 
 were unwilling to listen to any argument offered. In vain did 
 Little Turtle say to them : " Brothers, we heretofore had op 
 posed to us chiefs that were sleeping, but I say to you, the 
 6 Great Wind ' [the name given by the Indians to General Wayne] 
 is a chief who never sleeps." They, urged on by the British, 
 who secretly promised them succor, would hear of no terms 
 whatsoever. 
 
 General Wayne's " Legion" had passed the winter 1792-3 at 
 Legionville until the last of April, 1793, when it was taken down 
 the river to Cincinnati. There it encamped in the vicinity of 
 Fort Washington, on a high plateau, selected for that purpose 
 by Wayne's quartermaster-general, Colonel Hobson, from whom 
 the camp received the name of " Hobson's Choice." It had 
 been urged by some on General Wayne, that the camping- 
 ground was too far distant from Fort Washington and the town, 
 it being located, on account of the high water in the river, in 
 what is now the western part of Cincinnati. Wayne, upon in 
 quiry as to who had chosen the place, learning that it was Colonel 
 Habson, said : " Then it is Hobson's choice, and we must take it." 
 
 After encountering many obstacles General Wayne, during 
 the summer of 1793, was perfecting the discipline of his army 
 at Hobson's Choice. Profiting by the errors of his predecessors, 
 he at the same time tried to acquaint himself with every thing 
 pertaining to the disposition of the Indians, their location, num 
 ber, chiefs, and all other matters of interest to a commander 
 of an invading army in a hostile country. He knew that he 
 had a bold, vigilant, and dexterous enemy to contend with. It 
 became, therefore, indispensable to him to use the utmost cau 
 tion in his movements to guard against surprise. To secure his 
 army against the possibility of being ambuscaded, he organized 
 
WA YNE 'S SCO UTS. 965 
 
 3, body of spies or rangers, selecting for it the best woodsmen the 
 amp afforded. This corps was placed under the command of 
 Captain Ephraim Kibby, one of the first settlers at Columbia, 
 who had distinguished himself as a bold and intrepid soldier in 
 defending that infant settlement. The corps was divided into 
 two companies, one commanded by Kibby in person, the other 
 by Captain William Wells, who had been taken a prisoner by 
 the Indians when quite a boy, as narrated in a previous chap 
 ter, and had grown up to manhood with them, and consequently 
 was well acquainted with all their wiles and stratagems. 
 
 Of Captain Wells's, birth and family nothing is known. He 
 was captured at the age of twelve years, when he was an inmate 
 of the family of Nathaniel Pope (the grandfather of General 
 Pope), in Kentucky. The Miamis, who had taken him, finally 
 adopted Wells into the tribe, and he lived to manhood among 
 them. His Indian name was " Black Snake." He became quite 
 an influential man among them, and married a sister of the cel 
 ebrated chief " Little Turtle." He fought by the side of this 
 chief in the contests with Generals Harmar and St. Clair. 
 " Afterwards," writes Hon. J. L. Williams, in his Historical 
 Sketch of the First Presbyterian Church of Fort Wayne, "in 
 time of calm reflection, with dim memories still of his childhood 
 home, of brothers and playmates, he seems to have been har 
 assed with the thought that among the slain by his own hand 
 may have been his kindred. The approach of Wayne's army 
 in 1794, stirred anew these conflicting emotions based upon 
 indistinct recollections of early ties, of country and kindred on 
 the one hand, and existing attachments of wife and children on 
 the other. He resolved to make his history known. With true 
 Indian characteristics, the secret purpose of leaving his adopted 
 nation was, according to reliable tradition, made known in this 
 manner : Taking with him the war-chief ' Little Turtle ' to a 
 favorite spot on the banks of the Maumee, Wells said : ' I now 
 leave your nation for my own people. We have been friends. 
 We are friends yet, until the sun reaches a certain height/ 
 
966 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 which he indicated. 'From that time we are enemies. Then 
 if you wish to kill me, you may. If I want to kill you, I may.' 
 At the appointed hour, crossing the river, Captain Wells disap 
 peared in the forest, taking an easterly direction to strike the 
 trail of Wayne's army. Obtaining an interview with General 
 Wayne, he became ever afterward the faithful friend of the 
 Americans." 
 
 Next to Wells in importance was Robert McClellan, whose 
 name has been immortalized by Washington Irving in his graphic 
 picture of "Astoria." He was one of three brothers, William, 
 Robert, and John McClellan, the sons of one of the pioneer 
 farmers of Pennsylvania, who lived at the time of the Revolu 
 tionary war in that part of Cumberland County which now 
 belongs to Franklin County, where the boys were schooled in 
 all the arts of woodcraft and inured to the hardships of front 
 ier life. As soon as the boys had obtained a sufficient age, 
 they began their turbulent careers as pack-horse boys, convey 
 ing salt over the mountains. At the opening of the Indian 
 conflict in the west, about the year 1790, Robert and William 
 engaged as scouts or rangers, first in the service of General 
 Harmar, and next in that of Generals St. Clair and Wayne. 
 "Robert was one of the most athletic and active men on foot," 
 writes McDonald, " that appeared on the globe. On the parade 
 ground at Fort Greenville, where the ground was very little 
 inclined, to show his activity, he leaped over a road wagon with 
 the cover stretched over; the wagon and bows were eight and 
 a half feet high." 
 
 Henry Miller and a younger brother named Christopher 
 (brothers of Joseph and John Miller, in Kibby's company), had 
 been made captives by the Indians when quite young, and were 
 adopted into an Indian family. Henry lived with them until 
 he attained the age of about twenty-four years. Although he 
 had become quite Indianized and had adopted all their man 
 ners and customs, he now began thinking of returning home to 
 his family and relatives among the whites. His thoughts finally 
 
WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 967 
 
 grew into resolution. He communicated his intention to his 
 brother Christopher, and tried with all endeavor to get him to 
 join in the flight, but in vain. Christopher was quite a child 
 when made a captive. He was now a good hunter, an expert 
 woodsman, and in the full sense of the word, the true type of 
 an Indian warrior. Failing to induce his brother to join him, 
 Henry set off alone through the woods, and arrived safe among 
 his friends in Kentucky. Captain Wells was well acquainted 
 with the Millers during their captivity, and knew the intrepid 
 ity of Henry, which would render him a valuable companion in 
 time of need ; so, meeting him among Kibby's scouts, he asked 
 and received Miller's transfer into his company. How Henry 
 Miller found his brother Christopher, and had him join the 
 company of Wayne's scouts commanded by Wells, is related by 
 McDonald, as follows : 
 
 " The head-quarters of the army being at Fort Greenville, 
 in the month of June, 1794, General Wayne dispatched Captain 
 Wells and his company with orders to bring into camp an Indian 
 as a prisoner, in order that he might interrogate him as to the 
 future intentions of the enemy. Captain Wells proceeded with 
 cautious steps toward the Indian country. He crossed the river 
 St. Mary, and thence to the river Auglaize, without meeting 
 any straggling party of Indians. In passing up the Auglaize 
 they discovered a smoke ; they then dismounted, tied their 
 horses, and proceeded cautiously to reconnoiter the enemy. 
 They found three Indians campod on a high, open piece of 
 ground, clear of brush and underwood. As it was open woods, 
 they found it would be difficult to approach the camp without 
 being discovered. Whilst they were reconnoitering they saw 
 not very distant from the camp a tree which had lately fallen. 
 They returned and went round the camp so as to get the top 
 of the fallen tree between them and the Indians. The tree-top 
 being full of leaves, would serve as a shelter to screen them 
 from observation. They went forward upon their hands and 
 knees, with the noiseless movement of the cat, until they 
 
968 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 reached the tree-top. They were now within seventy or eighty 
 yards of the camp. The Indians were sitting or standing about 
 the fire, roasting their venison, laughing and making other merry 
 antics, little dreaming that death was about stealing a march 
 upon them. 
 
 "Arrived at the fallen tree, their purpose of attack was soon 
 settled; they determined to kill two of the enemy and make 
 the third prisoner. McClellan, who, it will be remembered, was 
 almost as swift as a deer of the forest, was to catch the Indian, 
 whilst to Wells and Miller was confided the duty of shooting 
 the other two. One of them was to shoot the one on the right, 
 the other the one on the left. Their rifles were in prime order, 
 the muzzles of their guns were placed on the log of the fallen 
 tree, the sights were aimed for the Indians' hearts whizz went 
 the balls, and both Indians fell. Before the smoke of the burnt 
 powder had risen six feet, McClellan was running at full stretch, 
 with tomahawk in hand, for the Indian. The Indian bounded 
 off at the top of his speed, and made down the river ; but by 
 continuing in that direction he discovered that McClellan would 
 head him. He turned his course and made for the river. The 
 river here had a bluff bank about twenty feet high. When he 
 came to the bank he sprang down into the river, the bottom of 
 which was a soft mud, into which he sunk to the middle. While 
 he was endeavoring to extricate himself out of the mud, Mc 
 Clellan came to the top of the high bank, and, without hesita 
 tion, sprang upon him as he was wallowing in the mire. The 
 Indian drew his knife McClellan raised his tomahawk told 
 him to throw down his knife, or he would kill him instantly. 
 He threw down his knife and surrendered without any further 
 effort at resistance. 
 
 " By the time the scuffle had ceased in the mire, Wells and 
 his companions came to the bank and discovered McClellan and 
 the Indian quietly sticking in the mire. As their prisoner was 
 now secure, they did not think it prudent to take the fearful 
 leap the others had done. They selected a place where the 
 
W A YNE '8 SCO UTS. 969 
 
 bank was less precipitous, went down and dragged the captive 
 out of the mud and tied him. He was very sulky, and refused 
 to speak either Indian or English. Some one of the party went 
 back for their horses, whilst the others washed the mud and 
 paint from the prisoner. When washed, he turned out to be a 
 white man, but 'still refused to speak or give any account of 
 himself. The party scalped the two Indians whom they had 
 shot, and then set off with their prisoner for head-quarters. 
 Whilst on their return to Fort Greenville, Henry Miller began 
 to admit the idea that it was possible their prisoner was his 
 brother' Christopher, whom he had left with the Indians some 
 years previous. Under this impression he rode alongside of 
 him, and called him by his Indian name. At the sound of his 
 name he started and stared around, and eagerly inquired how 
 he came to know his name. The mystery was soon explained 
 their prisoner was indeed Christopher Miller. 
 
 " Captain Wells arrived safely with their prisoner at Fort 
 Greenville. He was placed in the guard-house, where General 
 Wayne frequently interrogated him as to what he knew of the 
 future intentions of the Indians. Captain Wells and Henry 
 Miller were almost constantly with Christopher in the guard 
 house, urging him to leave off the thought of living longer with 
 Indians, and to join his relatives among the whites. Chris 
 topher for some time was reserved and sulky, but at length 
 became more cheerful, and agreed, if they would release him 
 from confinement, that he would remain with the whites. Cap 
 tain Wells and Henry Miller solicited General Wayne for Chris 
 topher's liberty. General Wayne could scarcely deny such 
 pleaders any request they could make, and, without hesitation, 
 ordered Christopher Miller to be set at liberty, remarking that 
 should he deceive them and return to the enemy they would 
 be but one the stronger. Christopher was set at liberty, and 
 appeared pleased with his change of situation. He joined the 
 company of Captain Wells, and with his brothers fought bravely 
 against the Indians during the continuance of the war." 
 
970 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 On the 7th of October, 1793, Wayne's army left their 
 camping-ground at Hobson's Choice, and removed to Fort 
 Greenville, which, under Wayne's direction, was strongly forti 
 fied. Here they went into winter-quarters, having been suffi 
 ciently provisioned to that end. Nothing particular occurred 
 here, excepting a skirmish had with a party of Indians, who 
 made an attack upon some soldiers conveying a train of sup 
 plies. The Indians were, however, easily repulsed, with some 
 loss on both sides. 
 
 During the next Spring negotiations were again opened, 
 with no perceptible change in the situation. General Wayne 
 then pushed his advance further into the Indian country to the 
 place of St. Glair's defeat, where he erected a work of defense, 
 which was called Fort Recovery, signifying that they now had 
 again recovered the heretofore lost ground. The place was at 
 once strongly fortified and well provisioned, and made the basis 
 of future operations. Wayne was now steadily engaged in pre 
 paring every thing for a sure blow when the time came, and, by 
 means of his several spies, kept himself well informed of the 
 plans and movements of the savages. All his information 
 showed that the Indians relied upon British assistance, which 
 faith still animated the doomed race. Early in July Captain 
 Wells and his scouts were ordered to bring in new prisoners. 
 They pushed through the country, always dressed and painted 
 in Indian style, crossing the River St. Mary, and then passed 
 into the country near to the Auglaize River, where they met a 
 single Indian, and called him to surrender. The man, notwith 
 standing the whites were six to one, refused to surrender, and 
 leveled his rifle as the whites neared him on horseback, fired, 
 but missed his mark, whereupon he took to his heels to effect 
 his escape. He gained upon his pursuers, on account of the 
 thick underbrush of the country, when McClellan and Christo 
 pher Miller dismounted. McClellan soon overhauled him. The 
 Indian, finding himself overtaken by his pursuers, turned 
 around and made a blow at McClellan with his rifle, which was 
 
WAYNE 9 S SCOUTS. 971 
 
 parried. As the intention was to take the Indian alive, 
 McClellan kept him at bay until Christopher Miller came up, 
 when they closed in upon him and made him a prisoner with 
 out receiving an injury. Their prisoner was reputed to be a 
 Pottawattomie chief, whose courage and prowess were scarcely 
 equaled. As Christopher Miller had performed his part on 
 this occasion to the entire satisfaction of the brave spirits with 
 whom he acted, he had, as he merited, their entire confidence. 
 This confidence was soon extended to head-quarters, and on 
 August 13, 1794, General Wayne selected him as a special 
 messenger to the Indians, once more offering terms of friend 
 ship. Miller returned with evasive and dilatory answers. 
 
 Unwilling to waste time, the troops moved forward to 
 within about forty miles of the Grand Glaize, and, being now 
 near the long-looked-for foe, began to throw up some light works, 
 which they called Fort Deposit, wherein to place the heavy 
 baggage during the expected battle. General Wayne, again 
 wishing to be informed of the intentions of the enemy, sent 
 out Captain Wells, with four men, to bring in some prisoners. 
 The party consisted of Wells, Henry Miller, McClellan, May, 
 and Mahaffy. The distance from Fort Defiance to the British 
 fort at the mouth of the Maumee River was only forty-five 
 miles, and they would not have to travel far before they would 
 find Indians. As their object was to bring a prisoner, it be 
 came necessary for them to keep out of the way of large par 
 ties, and endeavor to fall in with some stragglers, who might 
 be easily subdued and captured. % 
 
 Wells and his party went down the Maumee River until 
 they were only about two miles above the British fort, then 
 called Fort Campbell. On the left bank of the river was an 
 Indian village. Wells and his party rode into the village as if 
 they had just come from the British fort. Being dressed and 
 painted completely in Indian style, they rode through the vil 
 lage, stopping now and then to talk to some Indians in their 
 own language. They created no suspicion whatever, under the 
 
972 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 belief that they were Indians from the distance, that had come 
 to take part in the battle which all knew was imminent. As 
 auxiliary warriors, they were welcome to them. After they 
 had passed the village some distance, they fell in with an 
 Indian man and woman on horseback, who were returning to 
 the town from a hunting party. These were both made cap 
 tives without resistance, and then the party set off for Fort 
 Defiance with their prisoners. 
 
 As they were rapidly proceeding up the Maumee River, a 
 little after dark, they came near a large encampment of Indians, 
 who were merrily amusing themselves around their camp-fires. 
 While they passed around the camp with their prisoners, they 
 ordered them to be silent, under pain of instant death. After 
 they got about half a mile above the camp, they halted for a 
 consultation, when it was proposed to have some fun with the 
 savages, and give them a volley, in which each should kill his 
 Indian. They deliberately got down, gagged and fastened their 
 prisoners to trees, rode boldly into the Indian encampment, and 
 halted, with their rifles lying across the pummels of their sad 
 dles. The Indians were surprised at their nightly visitors, who 
 asked of them when last they had heard of General Wayne 
 and the movements of his army, how soon and where it was 
 expected the battle would be fought. The Indians who gath 
 ered around Wells and his daring comrades were very commu 
 nicative, answering all their interrogatories, without suspecting 
 any deceptive movements on the part of their strange visitors, 
 who, as they thought, belonged to some of the numerous tribes 
 that had gathered to take part in the conflict with the whites. 
 Their appearance at length aroused the suspicion of an Indian, 
 who was sitting some distance from them, and who remarked, 
 in an undertone, that he had his doubts about the strangers, 
 and that he believed their visit to mean mischief. Wells, how 
 ever, overheard these remarks, and at once gave the precon 
 certed signal, when each one fired his rifle into the body of an 
 Indian, and then set spurs to their horses, dashing off into the 
 
WAYNE'S SCOUTS. 97S 
 
 darkness. The Indian who had uttered his suspicion about 
 them and several others, at once arose, grasping their rifles, 
 and levelling them at Wells and his party, who just then gal 
 loped away, and for greater security laid their breasts upon the 
 horses' necks, so as to lessen the mark for the savages to fire at. 
 They, however, were not yet out of the light of the camp-fire 
 when the Indians fired a volley after them, wounding McClel- 
 lan and Captain Wells, hitting the first under the shoulder-blade, 
 so that the ball came out at the top of the arm, and the latter 
 was shot through the arm on which he carried his rifle, the arm 
 being broken, so that his trusty weapon fell to the ground. On 
 their retreat they were immediately followed by some of the 
 savages, who had at once, mounted their horses for pursuit. While 
 the scouts were crossing the river, May's horse slipped on a 
 smooth rock and fell, and before May could recover himself, 
 the Indians came upon him and took him prisoner. They knew 
 him well, as he had before been among them, when he was sent 
 by General Wayne to inquire after Colonel Trueman. At that 
 time he had pretended to desert to the Indians, riding into their 
 camp, where he remained some time, and was held as a prisoner, 
 but finally had effected his escape. This time, however, his 
 career was irretrievably destined to end. The Indians took 
 him to the British fort, and the next day tied him to a tree, 
 made his breast a target, and riddled his body with bullets, thus 
 ending the life of one of the bravest rangers of the west. 
 
 The others, after having performed this act of wanton super 
 erogation, rode at full speed to the place where they had left 
 their captives, untied them, mounted them on the front of their 
 horses, and set off for Fort Defiance. Captain Wells and Mc- 
 Clellan were severely wounded, and the distance to Fort Defi 
 ance being about thirty miles, it was indeed a road of suffering 
 before they could rest or receive the aid of a surgeon. As their 
 march would be slow and painful, Mahaffy was dispatched at full 
 speed to the fort for a guard and a surgeon. As soon as the 
 messenger arrived with tidings of the wounds and the perilous 
 
974 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 situation of the heroic spies, general sympathy was manifested 
 by all. General Wayne's feeling for the suffering soldiers was, 
 at all times, quick and sensitive ; and his solicitude became 
 intense when he learned the sufferings and perils of his confi 
 dential band. Without a moment's delay a company of dra 
 goons was dispatched with a surgeon, to meet, assist, and guard 
 these brave fellows to head-quarters, where they safely arrived 
 and were healed of their wounds. 
 
 The next day the army moved from Fort Defiance down the 
 Maumee, and, at a place known as " the Fallen Timbers " a tor 
 nado having broken down a streak of the forest General 
 Wayne inflicted one of the most severe punishments upon the 
 Indians they had ever received, and which broke their power in 
 the Northwestern Territory forever. It was, indeed, a brilliant 
 victory won, and to the spies of Wayne's army belongs a large 
 portion of the credit due to the heroic body that achieved it. 
 This little band of rangers performed more real service during 
 the campaign than any other corps of equal numbers. " I have 
 no doubt," writes McDonald, " that Captain Wells and the few 
 men he commanded, brought in not less than twenty prisoners 
 and killed as many more." 
 
 After the treaty of Greenville (1795) and the establishment 
 of peace, Captain Wells was joined by his Indian wife and 
 family, and, as Brice in his "History of Fort Wayne" writes, 
 " settled at the ' Old Orchard,' a short distance from the conflu 
 ence of the St. Mary and St. Joseph, on the banks of a small 
 stream there, afterward called ' Spy Run,' and which still bears 
 that name. The government subsequently granted him a pre 
 emption of some three hundred and twenty acres of land, includ 
 ing his improvement, the Old Orchard, etc. Wells afterward also 
 became, by appointment of the government, Indian agent at Fort 
 Wayne, in which capacity he served several years." 
 
 The following account is given of his tragic end : " In the 
 War of 1812 Captain Wells was in command at Fort Wayne. 
 When he heard of General Hull's orders for the evacuation of 
 
WA YNE >S SCO UTS. 975 
 
 Fort Dearborn (now Chicago), he made a rapid march to re- 
 enforce Captain Heald, and to assist in defending the fort, or 
 prevent his exposure to certain destruction by an attempt to 
 reach the head of the Maumee. But he was too late. All 
 means for maintaining a siege had been destroyed a few hours 
 before, and every preparation had been made to leave the post 
 next day. On the morning of the 15th of August the little 
 company of Captain Wells and his Miamis evacuated the fort 
 and moved along the shore till they came to Sand Hills, when 
 they were attacked by five hundred cowardly and treacher 
 ous Pottawattomies. That conflict was short, desperate, and 
 bloody. Two- thirds of the whites were slain or wounded, and 
 all the horses, provisions, and baggage lost. Only twenty-eight 
 strong men remained to brave the fury of about five hundred 
 Indians, who had lost but fifteen in the conflict. Captain 
 Wells displayed the greatest coolness and gallantry. He was 
 by the side of his niece (Mrs. Captain Heald), when the con 
 flict began. ' We have not the slightest chance for life,' he said, 
 6 and we must part to meet no more in this world God bless 
 you/ With these words he dashed forward with the rest. In 
 the midst of the fight he saw a young warrior, painted like a 
 demon, climb into a wagon in which were twelve children of 
 the white people, and tomahawk them all. Forgetting his own 
 immediate danger, Wells exclaimed, ' If that is their game, 
 butchering women and children, I'll kill too/ He instantly 
 dashed toward the Indian camp, where they Had left their 
 squaws and little ones, hotly pursued by swift-footed young 
 warriors, who sent many a rifle-ball after him. He lay close to 
 his horse's neck, and turned and fired occasionally upon his pur 
 suers. When he had got almost beyond the range of their rifles, 
 a ball killed his horse and wounded himself severely in the leg. 
 The young savages rushed forward with a demoniac yell to 
 make him a prisoner and reserve him for torture, for he was to 
 them an arch-offender. His friends, Win-ne-meg and Wau-bau- 
 see, vainly attempted to save him from his fate. He knew the 
 
976 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 temper and the practices of the savages well and resolved not 
 to be made a captive. He blackened his face with wetted pow 
 der, and taunted them with the most insulting epithets to pro 
 voke them to kill him instantly. At length he called one of the 
 fiery young warriors Per-so-tum (a squaw), which so enraged 
 him that he killed Wells instantly with his tomahawk, jumped 
 upon his body, cut out his heart, and ate a portion of the warm 
 and half-palpitating morsel with savage delight." 
 
 Robert McClellan, after the peace of Greenville, settled on 
 the Ohio River, near its mouth, where he erected quite a num 
 ber of log-houses and acted as a trader until the year 1806. 
 After that he associated with Ramsay Cook, an adventurous 
 young Scotchman, in a trading business with the Indians on the 
 Missouri River, which partnership lasted until the year 1810, 
 when McClellan continued the trading upon his own account. 
 In 1811 he joined the celebrated Wilson P. Hunt, the com 
 mander of Astor's American Fur Company, at the mouth of 
 the Nodowa River, and finding his old friend Crook there, 
 he joined the company upon its expedition to the far-distant 
 Northwest. He died after an adventurous life in the summer 
 of 1814 at Cape Girardeau, Missouri, where he lies buried. 
 His brother William, after manifold pursuits, settled in Butler 
 County, Ohio, where he died in the autumn of 1827. The 
 brothers Miller (Henry and Christopher), were likewise in the 
 employ of the "Astor American Fur Company," and some of 
 their after-adventures, like those of Robert McClellan, are re 
 lated by Washington Irving in his romantic "Astoria." 
 
 The battle of the " Fallen Timbers," that had so recklessly 
 been fought and lost by the Indians, urged on by their haughty 
 chief " Blue Jacket," against the serious advice of " Little Tur 
 tle," ended the power of the savages in what is now the State 
 of Ohio, and the southern part of the rest of the Territory ; 
 and the treaty of Greenville, in 1795, left them politically in a 
 scattered condition. While the Six Nations made their princi 
 pal home in Canada, retaining but few small reservations in the 
 
WA YNE 'S SCO UTS. 977 
 
 dominions of the United States, the most warlike tribes of the 
 west moved toward what is now the northern part of the States 
 of Indiana and Illinois and into the later Territories of Mich 
 igan and Wisconsin, where they established new hunting- 
 grounds. Some tribes, it is true, remained in the southern 
 portion of the Northwestern Territory, but these, for, the most 
 part, were peaceably disposed. 
 
 Another result of the victory of General Wayne was the 
 evacuation by the British of the forts still occupied by them 
 within the boundaries of the United States, such as Detroit, the 
 Maumee Fort, and others. Thereby the entire territory ceded 
 in the treaty of 1783 came, for the first time, into the full pos 
 session of the American government. And now, relying on 
 themselves, and relieved from British intrigues, the American 
 people earnestly began the occupation of the lands of their own 
 as rapidly as the influx of the hardy pioneers would permit. 
 
 As the population of the Territory increased new settle 
 ments were formed, and the governor proceeded, from time to 
 time, as the convenience of the inhabitants required, to lay out 
 and organize other counties, under the power delegated by the 
 ordinance of 1787; in each s of which courts of common pleas 
 and general quarter-sessions of the peace, vested with civil and 
 criminal jurisdiction, were established. The general court con 
 sisted of three judges, appointed by the President of the United 
 States, with the advice and consent of the Senate. It was the 
 highest judicial tribunal in the Territory, and was vested with 
 original and appellate jurisdiction in all civil and criminal, and 
 of capital cases ; and on questions of divorce and alimony its 
 jurisdiction was exclusive. 
 
 Up to the year 1797 there were but five counties in the 
 Territory : Washington, with its seat of justice at Marietta ; 
 Hamilton, with Cincinnati as its capital city; Knox, with Yin- 
 cennes on the Wabash ; St. Clair (now Illinois), with Kaskas- 
 kia near the Mississippi ; and the new county of Wayne (organ 
 ized 1796), with Detroit as the county seat. A glance on the 
 
 55 
 
978 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 map will at once convey an idea of the relative positions of 
 the seats of justice of the different counties, as they were at 
 that time, separated from each other by extensive tracts of 
 uninhabited wilderness, stretching from each other a hundrdd 
 and fifty to two hundred miles, without roads, bridges, or ferries. 
 According to our present views of communication, it would be 
 reasonable to suppose that the legal business of each county 
 was done exclusively by those professional men residing at its 
 seat of justice. That, however, was not the case. The judges, 
 as well as the lawyers, and frequently their clients and wit 
 nesses, had to travel from the most extreme settlements of the 
 Territory to where the court trying their cases was held. 
 
 The journeys of the court and bar to those remote places, 
 through a country in its primitive state, were unavoidably 
 attended with fatigue and exposure. They generally traveled 
 in larger or smaller companies, and with pack-horses to trans 
 port such necessaries as their own horses could not conveniently 
 carry, because no dependence could be placed on obtaining sup 
 plies on the route ; although they frequently passed through 
 Indian camps and villages, it was not safe to rely on them for 
 assistance. Occasionally small quantities of corn could be pur 
 chased for horse-feed, but even that relief was precarious and 
 could not be relied on. The routes were necessarily circuitous, 
 and their progress slow. They were often, from one county to 
 the other, from six to ten days in the wilderness, and at all 
 seasons of the year were compelled to swim every water-course 
 in their way which was too deep to be forded. That fact made 
 it common, when purchasing a horse, to ask if he was a good 
 swimmer, which was considered the most valuable quality of a 
 saddle-horse. 
 
 Other fatigues and troubles were connected with these excur 
 sions during the early days of the settlement of the country. 
 Although they were connected with privations and exposure, 
 and often with great personal danger, yet they were not desti 
 tute of interest or amusement. The exploration of the rich, 
 
WA YNE 'S SCO UTS. 979 
 
 luxuriant forest and prairie, through which they passed, could 
 not fail to produce the most pleasurable sensation. To enliven 
 the monotony of a tour through the boundless forest the parties 
 would ride in groups together, telling adventures of their lives, 
 and yarns, to their mutual entertainment. Now and then, dur 
 ing good weather, the one or the other, who had a taste and 
 some knowledge of music, would unpack a flute or a fiddle from 
 his saddle-bag, and strike up the melody of some popular air, 
 or a song of the time, in which the company would often join in 
 with a hearty chorus. Their nightly encampments or rests in 
 some lonesome cabin, which would furnish them a meager shel 
 ter, were not unfrequently enlivened with this sort of amuse 
 ment, which all readily enjoyed. 
 
 FORT WASHINGTON. 
 
 In the year 1803 Ohio was admitted as a State and the 
 other part of the Northwestern Territory was divided into four 
 Territories, which now compose the States of Indiana, Illinois, 
 Michigan, and Wisconsin. Gradually civilization entered and 
 dispersed the romances and tragedies connected with the pio 
 neer life in the country northwest of the Ohio River. 
 
980 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 OHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 HE earlier Indian writers, like the earlier histo 
 rians, confined themselves to the exterior of 
 their subject. They preferred events, dramatic 
 narratives, thrilling recountals to the simple 
 facts which make up the every-day life of the 
 Indian. His childhood, education, dress, beliefs, 
 religion, and sports were briefly and inade 
 quately described. But the murder of a white 
 man or a bloody massacre was related with horrible detail and 
 particularity. In the last few' years this astonishing defect 
 has been supplied by faithful and accurate observers of Indian 
 life as it is. It is by the help of such observers that we are 
 enabled in our closing chapter to give a glimpse of the Red Man 
 of To-day. 
 
 There are wide differences among the Indians of the present. 
 There are, first, the so-called civilized Indians. These are found 
 in fragments scattered through the older states. Such are the 
 Oneidas, of New York, and the Miamis, of Indiana. To these, 
 too, belong the solemn, copper-faced individuals whom the sum 
 mer tourist finds selling beads at Niagara Falls, or dwelling in 
 shanties at Petoskey, Michigan, and along the shores of the lovely 
 Mackinaw Island. Among all the civilized Indians, however, 
 those of Indian Territory are pre-eminent. There the Creeks, 
 Cherokees, and other tribes have dwelt for half a century under 
 the direct protection of the government, from which they draw 
 abundant pensions. Many of them are men of wealth and intel- 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 981 
 
 ligence. They live in a style superior to that of the white 
 settlers by whom they are surrounded. They are dressed in 
 fashionable clothing, and understand not merely the comforts 
 but the luxuries of civilized life. Their sons are sent east to 
 be educated in the leading colleges, and their daughters some 
 times reveal the work of the young ladies' finishing school. A 
 lady from Fort Scott, Kansas, told the writer of a public ban 
 quet and ball tendered by the citizens of the place to an excur 
 sion of leading Creeks from the territory. The visitors wore 
 full dress, and danced with an ease and elegance which the 
 young men of Fort Scott hardly rivaled. They were courteous 
 and accomplished, polished in manners and easy in conversation. 
 Their dark skin and black hair and eyes gave them the appear 
 ance of distinguished foreigners, an illusion materially assisted 
 by their accent. 
 
 Next to these civilized Indians come the semi-civilized. 
 Unlike the former, these have not arrived at their present con 
 dition through intercourse with the whites. The Pueblos of 
 New Mexico have considerable knowledge of the mechanic arts. 
 They built houses, constructed irrigating canals, dug cisterns, 
 planted trees, raised crops of grain, vegetables, and fruits, made 
 pottery, wove cloth and blankets, long before the white invaders 
 began to trouble them. Next to the Pueblos rank the Nava- 
 joes, followed at a still greater distance by certain bands of 
 the Apaches, whose home is in the mountains. Indeed, we 
 have already passed the line of semi-civilization, and find our 
 selves among the genuine "wild Indians," to whom belong four- 
 fifths of all living red men. Some of these we have already 
 met. There are the Ojibwas in the north, around Lake Supe 
 rior, the Sioux, Arrapahoes, and Cheyennes, known generally as 
 the "Plains Indians," the Comanches and Kiowas of Texas, 
 and the Digger Indians of California and the western coast. 
 The latter are the lowest of all the tribes. The name is given 
 promiscuously to the Utes, Shoshones, and others, who live on 
 snakes, lizards, grasshoppers, and such roots as they can "dig," 
 
982 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 for which purpose the poor wretches carry sharpened sticks. 
 One singular fact is the infinite diversity of languages. Not 
 only every tribe, but every band, of which there are sometimes 
 fifty in a single tribe, has its own dialect or jargon, perfectly 
 unintelligible to all who do not belong to the band. In all times 
 the Indians have disdained to learn even a few words of an 
 enemy's language. Stranger yet, the Cheyennes and Arrapa- 
 hoes for three quarters of a century have been firm friends, 
 camping and hunting together, and making war upon the same 
 enemies at the same times. The children constantly romp and 
 play together in the common camp. Yet not one in ten of 
 either tribe can hold the most ordinary conversation in the lan 
 guage of the other. 
 
 Unable to speak one another's language, the Indians of the 
 West have constructed a wonderful sign language, by which 
 they hold intercourse. Gestures, signs, are more or less natural 
 to every one. Among the Plains Indians alone have they 
 reached their most wonderful development. So complicated 
 and elaborate is the sign language, consisting of countless ges 
 tures and movements, the slightest variations in which mark 
 wide differences in meaning, that only a few Indians in a tribe 
 are complete masters of it, and the masses can only use it 
 slightly. The signs do not indicate letters, nor words, as with 
 the deaf and dumb, but ideas. There is one sign to indicate 
 hunger, another for " stop talking," another for summer, and so 
 on infinitely. Yet an expert sign talker will either make or 
 interpret a long speech, which consists of an infinite number of 
 signs following each other with lightning-like rapidity. Two 
 strange Indians will meet on horseback, each unable to under 
 stand a spoken word of the other, and, while holding the reins 
 with the left hands, will converse for hours with their right, 
 telling stories or relating their experience, without a single 
 misunderstanding. 
 
 While remembering that there must be great differences in 
 the customs of a thousand restless bands, which maintain such 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 983 
 
 differences in language, we may take the so-called "Plains 
 Indians " as a fair type of all the tribes of the West. They 
 inhabit the great plains east of the Rocky Mountains, from 
 Canada to the Gulf. They are cut up into sixty distinct tribes, 
 comprising one-half the Indians of the United States. 
 
 Among the Plains Indians the baby, as soon as born, is placed 
 in an upright nest, made of buffalo hide, coming up to its neck. 
 This nest is fastened to a board. Straps are attached, which the 
 mother throws over her shoulders while at work. Sometimes 
 she hangs it to a tree, or leans it against a stump. Here the 
 child passes the first year of its life, being removed once or 
 twice a day to be washed or dressed. If it attempts to cry, 
 Mrs. Squaw slaps her hand over its mouth, seizes the nose 
 between thumb and finger, and holds on till the child is nearly 
 suffocated. The youngster soon learns the lesson. As the 
 child approaches the age of crawling, it gets out of its prison. 
 
 Girls remain somewhat under the mother's control until 
 twelve or fifteen years old, at which time they are apt to 
 marry. Their principal resource is playing with dolls. At six 
 teen their beauty, such as it is, is generally gone, a result of 
 their hard life and constant exposure. 
 
 The boy grows up without restraint. His mother is not per 
 mitted to strike him or control him. At the age of six, he and 
 his fellows, armed with bows and arrows, roam around, killing 
 birds, or shooting at small animals. A little later his father 
 places him in charge of the ponies. He goes out each morning, 
 armed with a lariat, and passes the day lassoing the animals 
 and riding them, bareback and without bridle, at break-neck 
 speed across the country, becoming by this practice a miracle 
 of horsemanship. If tired of riding, he and his companions 
 practice with bow and arrows on such ground squirrels, spar 
 rows, or larks, as come in their way, or run races on foot. 
 All the while they bet with each other such articles as a boy 
 is likely to have about him with the true spirit of the hardened 
 gambler. 
 
984 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 At the age of twelve, the young Indian is relieved from 
 duty on the herd by his younger brothers, and is given arrows 
 with iron heads. This marks an epoch in his life. He is a 
 mere animal. He has no conception of right or wrong. Instead 
 of the lessons of gentleness and peace, which the white mother 
 impresses on her boy, his ambition is constantly goaded toward 
 feats of bloodshed and violence. He listens to the talk of the 
 warriors, and early discovers that such things alone are worthy 
 of a warrior's ambition. With a band of fellows, some one of 
 which has a natural pre-eminence which makes him its leader, 
 he roams over the country in search of victims. Some of the 
 most cold-blooded atrocities of the frontier have been the work 
 of these young devils in quest of fame. From each of these 
 expeditions one or more youths return with erect carriage and 
 pompous airs, announcing that they are candidates for the dis 
 tinction of warriors. The chiefs assemble in council. Each 
 youth in turn recites the basis of his claim, screaming, jumping, 
 yelling, gesticulating to illustrate his exploit. Other witnesses 
 are heard, and then the council goes into secret session. After 
 some time the chief announces from the dox)r of the council 
 lodge the names of the successful ones. These separately re 
 tire to some lonely spot, where they fast for a time in solitude, 
 and decide upon their " medicine," which will be described here 
 after. This done, the youth is a full-fledged warrior. 
 
 No sooner has the boy been proclaimed a warrior than he 
 begins to look for a wife. His manner of making love is 
 peculiar. Wrapped in his buffalo robe, or in summer in his 
 cotton mantle, and decorated in the gaudiest fashion, he stands 
 for hours, in perfect silence, about the lodge of the girl he 
 seeks to woo. Though uttering not a word, his conduct is as 
 well understood as the clucking of an old hen that wants to 
 set. After a few visits, the girl's family and friends hold a 
 consultation. If the result is favorable to the aspirant, the girl 
 indicates it by coquettish glances. That night the lover hides 
 near her door. Though the whole village knows what he is 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 985 
 
 about, he is supposed to be unseen by any one. Presently the 
 girl, having " roped " herself, issues from the lodge and is 
 pounced upon by her lover. If she resists, he must immediately 
 leave her. If not, he carries her to some neighboring spot and 
 begins his courtship in earnest. At first, the pair simply stand 
 and look at each other. On subsequent evenings, they remain 
 standing, but if the affair progresses well, they are locked in 
 each other's arms. Sometimes a girl who has several lovers 
 will keep them in suspense this way for a year, spending her 
 evenings with different ones. 
 
 At last the young brave gets his mother to interview the 
 girl's people. Her father names the number of ponies and buf 
 falo robes which he demands. A wrangle ensues. If the price 
 is thought too high the affair is off. If not, the lover ties his 
 ponies at the door of the lodge. On the following morning, if 
 the ponies are still there, he knows that his suit is rejected. 
 If not, he takes the girl without ceremony to his own or his 
 father's lodge. Henceforth, she is his property. As the war 
 rior may have as many wives as he can afford to buy, his new 
 wife is sometimes number three or four. 
 
 Every body knows that the life of the Indian woman is one 
 of incessant toil for her lord and master. She does all domestic 
 work, butchers the game, dresses the skins, brings wood and 
 water, and when her husband returns from the hunt always 
 unsaddles his horse, and feeds and waters it. She is simply 
 the property of her husband. He may beat her, sell her, or 
 kill her, as he pleases. One resource is left to the woman. She 
 has a right at any time " to go off with a handsomer man." If 
 her husband mistreats her, she negotiates for another husband 
 through some old- woman friend. If she falls in love with 
 another warrior, the result is the same. Her husband wakes 
 up some morning, to find her at work cooking and drudging in 
 another man's lodge, as if she had been there always. Her 
 former husband simply reports the matter to the chief. He and 
 his advisers fix the price which the new husband must pay the 
 
986 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 old one for his wife. If this is done the affair is ended. 
 Otherwise, the man has a right to kill his unfaithful squaw. 
 
 On one occasion, the young warrior with whom the wife of 
 an old Indian had eloped was unable to pay for her. Her for 
 mer master took her back, made her sit down with one foot on 
 the other, and deliberately fired a rifle ball through both feet. 
 This done, he grimly presented her to her lover, saying : " You 
 may be sure she will not run off with another man." 
 
 Custom makes it perfectly proper for an Indian to make 
 love to another man's wife, even in the presence of her husband. 
 Whatever may be the latter's feelings, he is bound to listen to 
 the love making, even to the most passionate vows, without pay 
 ing any attention to it. The women of the different tribes vary 
 greatly in chastity, but the customs above described, make the 
 husbands generally, good and kind. The only notice usually 
 taken of a wife's infidelity is to send her back to her father's 
 lodge and levy a fine of so many ponies on her lover, he in turn, 
 having the same right as against any subsequent brave with 
 whom she may take up. The unmarried women of the Chey- 
 ennes and Arrapahoes have a singular custom of tying a rope 
 about their lower limbs, so as not to interfere with walking, 
 whenever they are outside of their father's lodge. In the 
 absence of their husbands, married women do the same 
 thing. But for this, which custom has made their protection, no 
 woman would be safe from the assaults which every man has 
 the right to make. Even with it, no woman ventures far from 
 her lodge without a companion. 
 
 The "teepe" or buffalo tent, which constitutes the perma 
 nent lodge of the Plains Indians, has already been described 
 in our chapter on Kit Carson. Another kind of a lodge, used 
 for temporary camps, is made of small, fresh-cut poles, the ends 
 of which are stuck in the ground and the tops bent over and 
 fastened together. Over this frame blankets are spread, even 
 if the occupants have to sleep shivering on the ground with 
 out cover. 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 987 
 
 Every tribe has its peculiar style of lodge. The Omaha 
 Indians build a rectangular frame-work, on which they spread 
 their skins and blankets. The Osages build a lodge shaped like 
 the top of an emigrant wagon. The far-famed Pueblos live in 
 elaborate and complicated structures of poles and mud. A 
 Plains Indian out by himself will build a lodge no larger than 
 a dog kennel ; so small, indeed, that it seems impossible that 
 a man could get into it. Yet he will build a fire in the cen 
 ter of this tiny structure, curl himself around it, and sleep 
 contentedly. 
 
 The largest teepe is hardly eighteen feet in diameter. This 
 apartment serves for cooking, eating, living, and sleeping, and 
 for the lounging-place of dogs. The beds, consisting of buffalo 
 robes and blankets, with pillows made of rolled buffalo robes, 
 or of the skins of smaller animals stuffed with grass, lie around 
 the fire, serving at night for sleeping purposes and used by day 
 for seats and lounges. From one to four families occupy the 
 lodge. Besides the beds, its only furniture is an iron pot and 
 kettle, a water bucket, some tin cups, extra clothing, weapons, 
 and the inevitable " par fleche " trunks, containing dried meat, 
 of .which we will speak more particularly hereafter. 
 
 Each wife has a bed which she occupies with her children. 
 Of course, the crowd of dirty warriors, squaws, children, and 
 dogs, crowded into the teepe render it a place of inconceivable 
 filth. This, however, never affects the appetites of the inmates. 
 In camp, the duty of cooking devolves upon the oldest squaw. 
 There is only one article on the bill of fare. .A huge, iron pot 
 is filled with meat and water, and placed over the fire to boil, 
 but there is no such thing as a point when the food is " done." 
 Neither is there any regular time for meals, of which there is 
 usually only one a day. If any Indian is hungry, he dips into 
 the stew as soon as it is warm. One by one the crowd pitches 
 in, helping themselves from the common pot with fingers, knives^ 
 or sticks. No fault is found with the cooking, provided the 
 supply is abundant. This mode of cooking the meat is pre- 
 
988 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 ferred by the squaws as being easier than broiling on the coals. 
 The warriors, of course, prefer the latter, but, like their white 
 brothers, submit to the women. 
 
 When on the hunt or war-path, no squaws are along, and 
 each warrior cooks his own meal, always broiling his game over 
 the glowing coals in appetizing style. He knows the choicest 
 parts of every animal, and is a first-class cook. His nights are 
 largely spent in feasting on these occasions. " This is the time 
 for marrow guts, for ' hump ribs,' and for ' marrow bones.' The 
 first can, to the Indian, scarcely be improved by cooking, but 
 the greatest epicures will wrap eight or ten feet around a stick, 
 sprinkle it plentifully with salt, and hold it in a bright blaze 
 until the melted fat runs down. The whole mass is swallowed 
 almost red-hot, and is the choicest bonne louche with which an 
 Indian palate -can be tickled." 
 
 Sometimes our epicure of the plains bakes the ribs of a buf 
 falo before his fire ; again, he takes the large bones of its hind 
 legs, roasts them in the coals, then cracks them open with a 
 stone, and sucks enormous quantities of fiery, hot marrow. 
 During the feast he continually wipes his greasy hands on 
 his long, black hair. In the course of a night of feasting and 
 story- telling, an average Indian will devour fifteen pounds of 
 meat. This remarkable statement is based on unquestionable 
 authority. All Indians use salt, it being easily obtained. Tea, 
 coffee, and sugar are very rare. In late years some squaws 
 have learned how to make bread. 
 
 The influence of the white man is observable in the cus 
 tom introduced in some bands of having an old squaw pass 
 the pot around and help the circle of savages, old and young, 
 with a great, wooden ladle. This is unpopular, however, and 
 the old squaw is suspected of partiality. If any part of the 
 mighty stew remains over, it is set away cold, and such as 
 wish, go to it during the rest of the day. Besides such wild 
 meat, which is to-day the rarest dish on any white man's table, 
 different tribes of Plains Indians have other favorite dishes ; 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 989 
 
 among some of them skunk is very popular; others adore horse 
 flesh, while the Cheyennes worship fat puppy. Since 1872, 
 as most of the Indians have been confined on reservations, and 
 white men have virtually killed off the game, the food question 
 has become one of paramount importance to the Indian. The 
 government supplies are totally inadequate, and 'dogs, wolves, 
 reptiles, half decomposed horse-flesh, even carrion birds, all go 
 to appease the gna wings of his famished stomach. Every mili 
 tary post in the Indian country is besieged by these starving 
 people. The slop-barrels and dump-piles are carefully scruti 
 nized, and stuff that a cur would disdain is carried off in tri 
 umph. The offal about the butcher-shop is quarreled over and 
 devoured raw on the spot." 
 
 This condition of the Indians results from the destruction of 
 the buffalo. As late as 1871 the buffalo herds moved northward 
 each year in a column fifty miles wide and of unknown length. 
 Early in October, when the animals were at their fattest, the 
 Indians made preparations for the great fall hunt. The spot 
 for the hunting-camp was chosen with great care, and to it the 
 whole band repaired. The " surround," as it is called, described 
 elsewhere in this book, was the plan adopted for killing a large 
 number of animals, the slaughter sometimes reaching three or 
 four hundred at a single " surround." 
 
 As soon as the charge was over, and the noble game lay 
 panting on the ground, the women fell to work to skin the ani 
 mals, cut off the meat from the bones, and carry it to the camp 
 on the backs of ponies. No time was to be lost. The skins 
 were spread on level ground, flesh side up, and tightly stretched 
 by pegs driven into the ground. The meat was cut into thin 
 strips and hung on poles, already arranged, to dry in the sun. 
 The squaws worked day and night, as the skin becomes useless 
 if it dries unstretched, and the meat spoils in a few hours if 
 not "jerked." As soon as this lot of game was out of the way, 
 another " surround " took place, and so on through the season. 
 When the killing was over, the squaws began other work. 
 
990 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The thickest skins were soaked in water containing wood 
 ashes, which removed the hair. They were then cut in the 
 desired sizes, stretched on forms of various shapes, and allowed 
 to dry. They became as hard as iron, and ready for use as 
 trunks, or " par fleches," as they were called. The dried meat 
 was then pounded to powder between stones, and a layer of the 
 powder, two inches thick, placed in the bottom of the trunk. 
 Over this was poured a layer of melted tallow, and so on, alter 
 nately, till the trunk was full. The whole was kept hot until 
 the melted tallow had saturated the powder. The mass thus 
 prepared, kept for many years, constituting the principal food 
 of the Indians. It took the place of bread to them. In late 
 years, they pack the beef issued to them by the government in 
 the same way. 
 
 When the Indians used arrows, each hunter could identify 
 his own game. With the introduction of firearms this became 
 impossible, and the fruit of the " surround " became common 
 property. After the preparation of the meat, the skins next 
 received attention, the squaws preparing them for different 
 uses, as for saddles, shields, lariats, robes, and tent covers. The 
 preparation of the robe was the crowning work of the squaw. 
 With a small implement, shaped like an adze, she chipped away 
 at the hardened hide to thin it, chopping off a piece each time 
 from the surface, yet never cutting through. To render the 
 hide soft, buffalo brains were rubbed in with a stone. Even 
 after all this work, the squaw would, if the robe was to be 
 worn by her husband, spend many months in ornamenting it 
 with colored quills and grasses. 
 
 But the buffalo is practically extinct. In 1872 there was 
 apparently no limit to their number. In 1873, where there had 
 been myriads of buffalo there were myriads of rotting carcasses. 
 How did this come about? Three great railroads had pene 
 trated the West. It became known that a buffalo hide was 
 worth four, or five dollars. From all parts of the country 
 hunters came in hundreds and thousands, by rail, in wagons, 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 991 
 
 on horseback. By 1874 five million buffaloes had been slaugh 
 tered for their hides. The resource of the Indians for food and 
 shelter was practically destroyed. It was done in violation of 
 law, and the Indians, before virtually independent, are now 
 starving paupers. Frenzied with hunger they are dangerous. 
 
 From the topics of shelter and food we pass naturally to 
 that of clothing. The Indian dresses for ornament, not for 
 decency. The broadest demands of the latter are supposed to 
 be met by the breech cloth, which consists of a cloth five to 
 eight feet long, passed over a string around the waist, under 
 the legs, and up over the string on the opposite side. In addi 
 tion to this the Indian for home costume frequently wraps him 
 self in a cotton mantle. To this simple dress is now added 
 many strange bits of white men's clothing. A plug hat, a green 
 veil, a pair of hoopskirts, a parasol, a peacock feather, a soldier's 
 coat, a Chinese fan, are all seized upon, and used without regard 
 to congruity or sense. The funniest sight in the world is a 
 party of Indians decked out to receive white men. 
 
 Boots and pantaloons are despised by the red man most 
 bitterly. If they are issued to him by the government he 
 trades them off to the first chance comer for the veriest trifle. 
 The Indians of the west, unlike those of the east, allow their 
 hair to grow long. The scalp lock is never seen on the plains. 
 The warrior has also a state dress made of buckskin, and orna 
 mented by the toil-worn fingers of his wife, which constitutes 
 his most precious possession. 
 
 The women are rapidly abandoning the buckskin skirts com 
 ing to their knees and the scanty jackets for short calico dresses, 
 shawls, and leather belts. Both sexes have an overwhelming 
 passion for finery. Cheap jewelry, a bit of tinsel, a red feather, 
 are prized above all things. The poorest Indian, dressed in his 
 simple breech cloth, will be sure to have a bit of brass wire 
 and a feather or two, with which he will proudly decorate him 
 self on special occasions. Some tribes, when first discovered, 
 wore no clothing whatever. The poor Digger imagines himself 
 
992 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 most elaborately costumed, when his naked body is smeared 
 with yellow clay. All Indians, except the most enlightened 
 chiefs, use paint more or less on their persons. Ear-rings often 
 consist of at least a half pound of beads, stones, and shells, 
 pulling the ear of the wearer out of all shape. 
 
 Except in the summer, a band of Indians leads a nomadic 
 life. Every few days the camp is broken up, its belongings 
 packed on the ponies by the squaws, and the whole motley 
 crowd moves off to some new hunting-ground. These frequent 
 removals cause great labor. The squaws are worked to death, 
 putting up and taking down lodges. As a result, every thing 
 which is unnecessary is thrown away. 
 
 An expert can tell at once from the location of a summer 
 camp to which particular tribe it belongs. The Sioux, who have 
 a mortal dread of ambuscade, pitch their lodges away from all 
 timber; the Cheyennes camp in the open prairie, but near 
 timber; the Comanches select pretty situations in open wood 
 land, while the Osages and the Omahas pitch their lodges in the 
 heart of an impenetrable thicket. Formerly in these camps the 
 teepes of the chiefs were pitched in a circle, an inclosure which 
 served as a public square, in which all assemblies, trading, gam 
 bling, and dancing took place. Here on warm summer evenings 
 the whole band would gather for social occupations. At present 
 each petty chief selects the ground for his lodge, and his fol 
 lowers pitch theirs around it. 
 
 A more material change than the arrangement of the lodges 
 has also come over the summer life of the Indians. In the last 
 six years the scarcity of game and the utter inadequacy of gov 
 ernment supplies has forced the Indians, much against their will, 
 to till the ground. A spot is selected by a band early in the 
 spring. When the season opens men, women, and children fall 
 to work making fences, breaking ground, and planting seed. 
 "All summer long many of the noble red men, with wives and 
 children, may be found working in the fields, nearly naked, 
 sweaty, dirty, and unromantic." 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 993 
 
 The winter camp, which is regarded by the Indian as his 
 true home, is but little changed. When the great fall hunt is 
 over, a hot discussion takes place among the men. Skillful 
 warriors have made various journeys to ascertain a proper loca 
 tion for the winter camp. When these return they are care 
 fully interrogated by the council as to shelter, wood, water, and 
 food for the ponies. For days the debate proceeds, each local 
 ity having valorous champions. At last the place is selected, 
 invariably on the shore of some stream. This done, a general 
 rush takes place to get there first and pick the choicest spots 
 on which to pitch the teepes. 
 
 When all are snugly fixed the enjoyments of the winter 
 begin. The excitements, the toil of the summer give place to 
 a long season of idleness and pleasure. The old warriors pass 
 the winter days and the long cold evenings in gambling and 
 smoking. The old women, relieved of the hard labor of taking 
 down and putting up the teepe and packing the ponies, now 
 find comparative rest. The young of both sexes find time to 
 indulge in an unending round of fun. Visits, feasts, dances, 
 frolics, and above all, love-making, make the merry hours glide 
 swift away. Although there is much talk among the solemn, 
 old braves, sitting hour after hour around the campfire, there is 
 little thought. They will spend a half a day discussing where 
 one killed a deer, or another saw a buffalo track. The women 
 work much of the time dressing hides, making lariats, and orna 
 menting robes for their husbands. 
 
 The great occupation of the men during the winter is that 
 of gambling. A blanket is spread on the ground, around which 
 the Indians sit, crowding the lodge with an excited throng. 
 Three or four leaders face each other next to the blanket. The 
 first thing is to make up the bets. Almost every man and 
 woman in the crowd bet with each other, backing one side 
 of the game, and lay their stakes in a pile on one end of 
 the blanket. The collection is curious, containing silver- 
 mounted saddles, fine bows and arrows, old moccasins, necklaces, 
 
 56 
 
994 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 money, iron pots, every thing which the Indian has in the way 
 of property. 
 
 When the betting is done the leader commences the game 
 by holding up in his fingers a bit of bone, two inches long, 
 and a quarter of an inch in diameter. After a moment's pause, 
 he brings his hands together and passes the bone back and 
 forth from one hand to the other, with marvelous dexterity and 
 swiftness. His opponents watch Jiim carefully, and one of them 
 at length guesses which hand the bone is in. The leader 
 instantly opens his palm, and if the guess was correct, the side 
 of the guesser wins a point; if not, the other side scores one. 
 Twenty-one points is a game, the leaders on the opposite sides 
 taking turn about with the bone. When the game is ended, 
 each winner takes back his stake and that of his adversary as 
 well. The game is accompanied by loud shouts, much wrangling 
 and bantering. 
 
 This game, though always popular because it admits any 
 number of players, is not the first choice of ardent gamblers. 
 All games of cards are thoroughly understood. Cheating is con 
 sidered perfectly legitimate, if not caught at it. The Indians 
 are genuine gamblers, and will sometimes lose their blankets, 
 furs, weapons, ponies, wives, and even children. Whenever a 
 game is about to be begun in a lodge, the tom-tom is beaten as 
 an invitation for all to come in. The squaws are more conser 
 vative than the men, and when they find their husbands losing 
 heavily, generally manage to break up the game. 
 
 The most exciting of all Indian games is one in vogue 
 among the Comanches. Two leaders choose sides, which are 
 seated in parallel lines opposite each other. Every body makes 
 his or her bet, depositing the stakes between the two companies. 
 All being ready, the leader of one side rises to his knees, with 
 the gambling bone in his fingers. Closing his hand over it, he 
 begins a swift gesticulation, and presently thrusts his hands into 
 those of one of his neighbors. He may either give the latter 
 the bone or keep it himself, but in either case, both himself and 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 995 
 
 his neighbor keep up the movement of the hands as if each 
 one had it. The neighbor repeats the trick with the player 
 next to him, either passing or keeping the bone, and so on 
 down the line until every player on that side is waving his 
 arms and hands in the wildest excitement, apparently passing 
 the bone every moment. Meanwhile, the other side watches 
 with eager eyes to discover the whereabouts of the article. At 
 last some one thinks he detects it, and points at a hand, which 
 is instantly opened. The scoring on the guess is the same as 
 in the other game, twenty-one points being the limit. 
 
 The Cheyenne women have a game of their own, of which 
 they are passionately fond. A string of beads, twelve inches 
 long, has at one end six loops, each an inch in diameter, of 
 small beads. On the main string are strung four small bones 
 from the foot of a bear, in each of which are four rows of four 
 holes each. At each end of the bone are two or three tiny loops 
 of small red beads. At the opposite end of the string is fast 
 ened a long, sharp needle of wire, six inches in length. A 
 player takes the needle between his thumb and finger, and the 
 game is to throw the bones forward and upward, and to thrust 
 the needle into some of the loops or perforations in the bones. 
 Each particular loop and perforation has a different value, and 
 when caught on the needle counts so much, it being possible to 
 make six hundred at a single throw, which is of course a very 
 rare occurrence. The game is two thousand. If nothing is 
 caught, nothing counts. 
 
 Naturally enough, gambling is accompanied by drunkenness. 
 Many Indians fall back on the white men for common whisky, 
 but others make drinks of their own which are as efficacious as 
 any thing in the world for producing intoxication. One tribe 
 makes a drink from the Maguey plant, called " mescal." Others 
 make "tizwin," a drink manufactured from fermented corn. A 
 most subtle intoxicant is said to be made from mare's milk. 
 The Indian way of getting drunk is simply to drink off enough 
 of the intoxicant to paralyze him at once, and then sneak 
 
996 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 away to some spot, where he can sleep for many hours without 
 disturbance. 
 
 Gambling and drinking are by no means the only amuse 
 ments of the winter camp. Story telling is a gift which always 
 makes its owner a favorite person among the lodges. Bucks , 
 squaws, and children crowd the teepe in which he may be r 
 listening hour after hour during the long winter evenings to 
 the marvelous yarns which he makes up as he goes along. His 
 story is both filthy and pointless, a confused jumble of men, 
 animals, and mythical monsters. 
 
 On fine winter days the men and boys often indulge in horse 
 races. The Indian rider is awkward in the extreme. His stir 
 rups are short, his back humped, his head thrust forward in a 
 ridiculous position. Yet this laughable equestrian will pick up 
 a small coin from the ground when his horse is at full speed. 
 Various methods of racing are in vogue. Sometimes it simply 
 consists in rushing a pony at full speed toward a tree, the one 
 first touching it being winner. The same method is sometimes 
 employed with a different goal. A heavy pole is set up horizon 
 tally about six feet from the ground. The racers dash forward, 
 regardless of life or limb. If one stops his horse too soon, he 
 fails to touch the pole, and is beaten ; if too late, his horse 
 passes under the pole, while he himself is caught and thrown 
 heavily backward on the ground, under the hoofs of the ponies 
 behind him. 
 
 In a third kind of race two strips of buffalo hide are fastened 
 to stakes in the ground about eight feet apart. The racers start 
 from a point two hundred yards away, jump their ponies over 
 the first strip, stop short of the second, and get back to the 
 starting place as quickly as possible. The Indians give great 
 attention to racing. In contests with American horses the small, 
 wiry pony wins in a race of a few hundred yards, but for a 
 mile or two the long stride of the horse makes him winner. In 
 races of more than three miles the endurance of the pony again 
 turns the scale in his favor. 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 997 
 
 Colonel Dodge tells a good story in his recent work on " Our 
 Wild Indians." A band of Comanches encamped near Fort 
 Chadbourne, Texas. Some of the officers in the fort owned fast 
 horses, the speed of which was well known, and bantered the 
 Indians for a race. After two or three days of chaffering, the 
 Indians agreed to match one of their ponies against the third 
 best horse in the garrison, distance four hundred yards. 
 
 " The Indians bet robes and plunder of various kinds to the 
 value of sixty or seventy dollars against money, flour, sugar, 
 etc., to a like amount. At the appointed time all the Indians 
 and most of the garrison were assembled at the track. The 
 Indians " showed " a miserable sheep of a pony with legs like 
 churns. A three-inch coat of rough hair stuck out all over the 
 body, and a general expression of neglect, helplessness, and 
 patient suffering struck pity into the hearts of all beholders. 
 The rider was a stalwart buck of one hundred and seventy 
 pounds, looking big and strong enough to carry the poor beast 
 on his shoulders. He was armed with a huge club, with which, 
 sifter the word was given, he belabored the miserable animal 
 from start to finish. To the astonishment of all the whites, the 
 Indian won by a neck. 
 
 "Another race was proposed by the officers, and, after much 
 * dickering,' accepted by the Indians against the next best horse 
 of the garrison. The bets were doubled ; and in less than an 
 hour the second race was run by the same pony, with the 
 same apparent exertion and with exactly the same result. The 
 officers, thoroughly disgusted, proposed a third race, and brought 
 to the ground a magnificent Kentucky mare, of the true Lex 
 ington blood, and known to beat the best of the others at least 
 forty yards in four hundred. The Indians accepted the race, 
 and not only doubled bets as before, but piled up every thing 
 they could raise, seemingly almost crazed with the excitement 
 of their previous success. The riders mounted; the word was 
 given. Throwing away his club, the Indian rider gave a whoop 
 at which the sheep-like pony pricked up his ears and went away 
 
998 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 like the wind, almost two feet to the mare's one. The last fifty 
 yards of the course was run by the pony with the rider sitting 
 face to his tail, making hideous grimaces and beckoning to the 
 rider of the mare to come on. 
 
 " It afterwards transpired that the old sheep was a trick and 
 straight race pony, celebrated among all the tribes of the south, 
 and that the Indians had only just returned from a visit to the 
 Kickapoos in the Indian nation, whom he had easily cleaned 
 out of six hundred ponies." 
 
 The Indian carries a short, stout loop of raw-hide at the 
 pommel of his saddle, which forms an important part of his 
 outfit. When he desires to throw himself on the side of his 
 pony opposite an enemy, he passes this loop over his head and 
 under the arm, and, with one leg still thrown over the saddle, is 
 as completely at home as in his lodge, having both hands left 
 free with which to use his bow and arrow. The women ride 
 astride the ponies like the men. 
 
 Before coming to the greatest indoor amusement of the win 
 ter camp, the dance, it is proper to speak briefly of the musical 
 instrument of the Indians. The drum or tom-tom serves them 
 alike as fiddle, brass band, pipe organ, and jew's-harp. Formerly 
 it consisted of a piece of skin stretched over a section cut from 
 the trunk of a hollow tree, but, since the approach of civiliza 
 tion, the empty cheese box, with the skin over it, has driven out 
 all other rivals. When the head of this drum gets loose it is 
 tightened by being wet and held over the fire, which is always 
 kept burning at a dance for this special purpose. 
 
 The songs of the Indians, which accompany all their ceremo 
 nies and celebrations, are highly characteristic. The tunes are 
 few and monotonous, but the words constantly vary. Every 
 occasion gives rise to a new set of them. A band of warriors, 
 returning from the war-path, regards the matter of embalming 
 their exploits in an appropriate song as one of the highest impor 
 tance. Many evenings on the way home are spent in the work 
 of its composition, each man proposing a line and the whole 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 999 
 
 testing it by singing in chorus. If it strikes their fastidious 
 fancy, it is adopted ; otherwise, another line is tried, and so on, 
 until one is found which suits. 
 
 In making a song, a great number of sounds without meaning 
 are used to fill out the measure. An illustration of this is the 
 love-song given below, sung by a young Cheyenne warrior to a 
 married woman, whom he courted : 
 
 " I am your lover, ha ya, ha a yah, ha yah, 
 I am not afraid to court you, ha a yah, ha yah, 
 Though you have a brave husband, ha yah ha, 
 Will you elope with me? ha yah, ha yah ha." 
 
 Her answer is as follows : 
 
 " I will leave my husband, hah ha ha ha ha yoo, 
 But attend to what I say to you, ha ha ha ha yo, 
 You must be good to me, ha ha, yo e, 
 And not make love to other womn, ha yo, ha o." 
 
 The dance among civilized communities now figures simply 
 as an amusement, a recreation. Among the Indians dances are 
 of three varieties. First, the religious dances, the incongru 
 ity of which is not so great when we remember that the Israel 
 ites observed the same rites. Besides this, there are the cere 
 monial dances ; and last, but not least, the social dance. In all 
 of these, the only music is the monotonous thrum, thrum of the 
 tom-tom. The step is always the same. It consists merely of 
 a little spring on the balls of both feet, so timed that one jump 
 is made to each beat of the drum. It is extremely tiresome 
 on the muscles of the calves of the legs, but an Indian will 
 dance until daybreak, six nights out of the week, and never 
 feel it. 
 
 All Indian tribes have a great religious dance. Among the 
 Cheyennes this is known as the " H6ch-e-a-yum," or " Medicine 
 Dance;" among the Dakotahs it is called the "Sun Dance." 
 The Sioux and the Seminoles, of Florida, celebrated this dance 
 at the season when the tasseled roas ting-ears hung amid the 
 
1000 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 rustling blades of the Indian corn; hence, it was known as the 
 "green-corn dance." These ceremonies, among manj tribes, are 
 begun with processions and feasts not unlike those of the 
 ancient Romans or of the Jews themselves. Each tribe has at 
 least one of these great medicine dances each year. If they 
 can afford it, sometimes two are held. The medicine man of 
 the tribe fixes upon the time and place where the great dance 
 is to be held, and all the roving bands of the tribe are notified. 
 The scene among the Cheyennes is by no means unlike that of 
 our great modern camp-meetings. H6ch-e-a-yum means " the 
 lodge made of cottonwood poles," while the word applied to the 
 dancers signifies "the people who make the medicine in the 
 lodge of cottonwood poles." 
 
 When the Indians come together at the appointed time and 
 place, they find a great lodge, capable of holding several hun 
 dred people, of which the sides are an open frame-work of cot 
 tonwood poles, while the top is partly or wholly covered with 
 skins or the green branches of trees. In the center of the lodge 
 is roped off a circular space, some twenty-five feet in diameter, for 
 the dancers. Around and outside of this is another space of a 
 few feet for the guard, and the remainder of the lodge is for the 
 spectators. When all is ready and the place is packed with a 
 breathless throng, the medicine chief advances to the center 
 with great solemnity and announces the names of the warriors 
 whom he has chosen for the dance. The number of these is 
 usually one to every one hundred persons of the tribe. When 
 the names are pronounced, there may be heard the suppressed 
 sobs of some of the squaws, but the persons most concerned 
 show no change in their demeanor. The head chief also selects 
 an equal number of guards for the dancers. The latter are noti 
 fied of the hour when the dance will commence, and are warned 
 that disgrace and death will be lot of any who fail to appear. 
 
 At the appointed time the guard takes its position in the 
 space roped off for it, and a moment later the medicine chief 
 appears at the head of the file of warriors who are to take part in 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1001 
 
 the dance, and conducts them to the inner circle before described. 
 As each individual in the scrambling, struggling crowd, ablaze 
 with curiosity and eagerness, strives to push aside or see over 
 the shoulder of his neighbor, he discovers the dancers either 
 stripped to their buckskin leggings, or to the breech cloth itself. 
 Each holds in his mouth a small bone whistle, in the end of 
 which is placed a single feather from the chaparral cock. 
 
 Every dancer has his eyes fixed on a curious little image, 
 black on one side to represent the Bad God, and white on the 
 other to represent the Good God, which is suspended from the 
 roof just over the center of the circle. The group of dancers 
 are as motionless as statues. At a given signal each begins to 
 sound his whistle and commences the monotonous Indian dance, 
 moving slowly around the circle. Inexperienced dancers, car 
 ried away with religious fervor, make great exertions, but the 
 wiser ones husband their strength, for the dance is to go on 
 without a pause for sleep, food, or drink ; without the removal of 
 the eyes from the image, or the cessation even momentarily of the 
 sound of their whistles, not merely for hours, but for days. 
 
 For the first ten or twelve hours, the scene is monotonous. 
 But in time it begins to wear a different aspect. The dancers 
 show signs of fatigue. The eyeballs, still turned toward the 
 image, grow bloodshot and sunken. The head dizzies from the 
 rotary motion and the constant expenditure of breath in the 
 whistling. Dense throngs of excited spectators pack the lodge. 
 The friends and relations of the dancers shout encouragement. 
 The place is filled with frightful clamor. 
 
 As the dance continues hour after hour, some of the younger 
 dancers fail perceptibly. Their steps no longer keep time with 
 the tom-tom. Their dancing is but a stagger. Suddenly one 
 of them falls to the ground. The air is rent with the screams 
 of squaws. The friends of the prostrate dancer make a rush 
 toward him, but are thrust back by the guards. They drag the 
 body out of the inner circle, and the medicine chief proceeds to 
 cover it with various holy paints. This is expected to restore 
 
1002 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 the unfortunate to consciousness, but frequently the open air 
 and buckets of water are required. When he revives, it lies 
 with the stern medicine chief to say whether he shall continue 
 the dance until he falls again. To the entreaties and tears of 
 the squaws, and the offers of ponies and buffalo robes by the 
 men, he returns a solemn and mysterious shake of the head. 
 The women raise their screams, and the men their bribes until 
 the medicine chief usually yields. 
 
 While this dancer is carried to his lodge by his women, the 
 spectacle in the great lodge continues. One by one, other 
 dancers fall and are dragged out, either to be excused from fur 
 ther toil or sent back into the ring, at the whim of the priest. 
 It proceeds for three or four days, some of the poor, deluded 
 wretches enduring to the last. If there are no deaths, this is 
 " good medicine," and the camp becomes the scene of festivity 
 and jollification. If on the other hand, some of the dancers fail 
 to revive from the swoon, the assembly becomes a pandemonium 
 of lamentation. Amid the howls of their companions, the. wives 
 of the deceased inflict terrible wounds upon themselves. The 
 dead are hastily buried. Near their graves are left the corpses 
 of several horses killed for their use in the happy hunting 
 grounds. The ponies are quickly loaded, the lodges torn down, 
 and each band hurries to hide itself in the wilderness, away 
 from the wrath of the Bad God, which the events of the dance 
 are supposed to have revealed. 
 
 Though the above description is written in the present tense, 
 it is in fact historically true only up to a time now some years 
 gone by. Since that day the medicine dance has undergone 
 important changes. The medicine chief is no longer the arbi 
 ter of life and death. He neither selects the dancers, nor 
 names the time when the dance shall be held. The great relig 
 ious ceremony is now left either under the control of the coun 
 cil or to private enterprise. The day is fixed and the bands 
 assemble as heretofore, but it is now entirely voluntary with a 
 warrior whether he enters the dance at all. He quits when he 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1003 
 
 pleases, and some do not enter the ring until the second or 
 third day. Fashion, vanity, religious zeal, and other motives 
 now induce nearly all the warriors to enter the dance, and, as 
 those who endure the longest are counted the best men, there 
 is little change in the horrible features of the affair. Many 
 endure for seventy-five hours without sleep, food, drink, or 
 obedience to any demand of nature, maintaining all the time a 
 constant whistle, and pausing not a moment in the dance. There 
 are other ceremonies connected with the medicine dance, which 
 we will describe when we come to discuss the religion of the 
 Indians. 
 
 The most widely known of the Indian dances is the scalp- 
 dance, performed by the warriors who took scalps, on their re 
 turn from a foray. The scalps are cleaned and stretched on 
 little wooden hoops, the hair carefully dressed, and then each 
 warrior attaches his scalps to a willow stick. These sticks, ten 
 feet long, are planted in the ground, and the warriors of the 
 party surround them. At first the dance and accompanying 
 song is slow and monotonous, but gradually the dancers work 
 themselves up into a terrific frenzy. Each one in turn, with 
 many contortions and leaps, gives an exaggerated account of 
 his exploits and re-enacts the scenes in which he has figured. 
 These are followed by those warriors who took no scalps, ex 
 plaining why they failed, describing their former exploits, and 
 relating what they intend to do in the future. By the time the 
 dancers have shown what valiant warriors they are, both they 
 and the whole village are frantic with excitement. When new 
 scalps are wanting old ones are brought out and made to do 
 duty again and again. 
 
 The dances heretofore described are performed almost with 
 out clothing. Far different are others in which each warrior 
 loads himself down with his finery. These latter are slow and 
 stately affairs, but are immensely popular with the women, who 
 in loud voices praise or criticise the costumes of the dancers. 
 
 There yet remains for us to mention the social dance of the 
 
 \ 
 \ . 
 
1004 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Indians, which constitutes the most popular amusement, and 
 affords the keenest delight of the winter camp. On at least 
 five evenings in the week the squaws listen expectantly at 
 nightfall for the beat of the tom-tom from some neighboring 
 
 INDIAN SCALP DANCE. 
 
 teepe. No other invitation is given and none needed. The 
 whole town, men, women, and children, come together very 
 quickly. If the occasion is a special one two teepes are pitched 
 side by side, and the flaps lifted, making one large rooir... The 
 beds and furniture, such as it is, are hastily gotten rid of, and 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1005 
 
 the guests seat themselves on the ground. At one end of the 
 tent a half dozen Indians are seated around a big tom-tom, 
 pounding away at it. 
 
 There is much chatter and frolic as the crowd arrives. 
 Every body squeezes as close to the sides of the tent as pos 
 sible to leave room for the dancing. The latter, horrified, as 
 may be the readers, consists simply of what is known in Amer 
 ican society as the " German," except that the leader is a 
 woman. She advances to some man, seizes him, and the two, 
 with arms encircling one another, dance around the room a time 
 or two, each selecting a partner of the opposite sex. This being 
 continued by each couple until the floor is crowded, when the 
 music ceases and all return to their seats. The figures are in 
 numerable, one of the most popular being known as the " kiss 
 ing dance," in which each couple deliberately kiss. Another is 
 the eating dance, each dancer offering something to eat to the 
 chosen partner. The tricks, the fun, the screams of laughter, 
 the uproarious jokes, are beyond description. 
 
 The Indian is intensely religious. His faith and his sacri 
 fices are rarely equaled by any Christian. As far as their beliefs 
 can be ascertained, the more intelligent red men of the Plains 
 believe in two gods. The Good God is for some unknown rea 
 son the friend of the Indian. He brings to him every thing 
 good and pleasant, and assists him in his undertakings without 
 being asked to do so, because he does the best he can, and with 
 out being thanked for it, because he likes to do these things. 
 For an equally mysterious reason the Bad God is the enemy 
 of the Indian. All disease, pain, misfortune, and .suffering come 
 from him. The prayers of the Indians are always addressed to 
 the latter deity, urging him not to hurt them. These two gods, 
 who are constantly at war with each other, control this world, 
 but not the next. 
 
 All Indians, good or bad, go to the happy hunting-grounds, 
 unless they either die from strangulation, by which the soul is 
 prevented from passing out through the mouth, or by scalping, 
 
1006 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 which means annihilation. Hence the Indian's eagerness to 
 scalp his enemy. If this is not done, it is because he expects 
 his victim to be his slave in the next world. The most mys 
 terious part of the Indian's religion is what is called "medicine." 
 This singular word means every thing and nothing. When the 
 young Indian becomes a warrior, he prepares in solitude a mix 
 ture of earths, ashes, and other ingredients, one of which is a 
 secret with himself, and the others selected by his father's in 
 struction. From the color of the mixture, the novice firmly 
 believes that he can tell which God is in the ascendant over him 
 at the time. If the medicine be good, tiny sacks of it are tied 
 around the necks of the warrior and his family, and in the tail 
 of his horse. The secret ingredient used by each Indian in his 
 " medicine " is chosen after great agonies of mind and body, and 
 is always carried in a little pouch on his person. 
 
 The priest of the Indian's religion is the "medicine chief." 
 He has acquired the position by laying claim to the discovery 
 of a medicine which conteracts the power of the Bad God. If 
 in battle or elsewhere he has special good luck, this is regarded 
 as a demonstration of the truth of his claim. He holds himself 
 aloof from the common Indians, and has charge of all the 
 religious ceremonies of the tribe. His duty it is to drive off bad 
 spirits and to propitiate the Bad God. The religious belief of 
 the Indian, that disease is but the Bad God's influence, naturally 
 results in the medicine chief's being also the physician of his 
 tribe, combining in himself the duties of healer both of soul 
 and body. 
 
 The secret ceremonies over which he presides are but little 
 understood. It is said, however, that there are burnt offerings 
 of meat and rice, rude pictures in charcoal of horses and buffalo, 
 or whatever may be desired, and some sort of incense. At these 
 religious ceremonies no squaw or other person not a warrior is 
 ever permitted to be present. Dodge asserts that the Plains 
 Indians carry with them a small thing, which is the object of 
 constant religious veneration. It is hung in the tent of the 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1007 
 
 head chief, and no profane eye has ever looked upon it. The 
 thing, which may be nothing more than a bundle of arrows or 
 of herbs wrapped in skin, and deposited in a small trunk, made 
 for the purpose, while moving about over the country, he 
 says, is believed to be the visible presence of the Good God, 
 corresponding to the Ark of the Covenant. He relates that 
 once when the Pawnees captured the Holy Bundle from the 
 Cheyennes the latter redeemed it with three hundred ponies. 
 
 On the occasions of the great " Medicine Dance," elsewhere 
 described, take place also the terrible self-tortures of the Indians. 
 Formerly every candidate for the rank of warrior had this to 
 undergo ; now it is voluntary. This, however, has not lessened 
 the number of participants. A lodge is prepared with a large 
 pole in the center. The volunteers come in one by one, are 
 examined by the medicine chief and other head men, who dis 
 cuss his powers of endurance. After various performances, the 
 chief takes a keen knife and makes two deep incisions, three 
 inches long and two inches apart, in the muscles of each breast of 
 the victim. The flesh between these slits is then lifted, a large 
 horse-hair rope inserted and tied to a block of wood, which pre 
 vents it from slipping out. The other end of the rope is then 
 tied to the top of the pole in the center of the lodge. 
 
 The task of the victim is to remain without food or drink 
 until he has torn himself loose. Sometimes the incisions are 
 made in the back, and the rope attached to heavy, movable 
 objects, usually buffalo skulls, instead of to the pole; at other 
 times the victim is hauled six or eight feet from the ground, 
 and left to hang until his own weight or his struggles tears him 
 loose. The time required to free themselves varies greatly, 
 some tearing themselves loose very soon, while others hang 
 three or four days in torment until the decay of the tissues 
 comes to their relief. When the agony is ended, his wounds are 
 skillfully dressed. Should he at any time in the ordeal give 
 any expression of weakness, he is at once released and driven 
 off, everlastingly disgraced. 
 
1008 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 The various tribes have different methods for the burial of 
 the dead. Many select picturesque spots, and place the burial 
 case in the branches of some trees. Others build a platform, 
 on which the corpse is laid. The Utes hide it in graves dug 
 in a hill-side, and carefully concealed. For a certain number 
 of days supplies of food and water are left at the burial-place 
 for the use of the dead on his journey to the happy hunting- 
 grounds. The mourning of the relatives of the deceased is 
 deep and terrible. When a son dies, the father, stripped naked, 
 his hair, usually dressed with such care, cut off and disheveled, 
 the locks scattered about the lodge, lies prostrate on the ground 
 of his teepe for days and weeks, refusing nourishment, and giv 
 ing himself over to the most sorrowful lamentations. Even worse 
 is the mourning of the women over the death of their husbands. 
 To the other distresses are added terrible cuts and wounds, 
 which they inflict recklessly "upon their persons. 
 
 The Indian's notion of a future life is crude. He believes it 
 to be a continuation of the present existence, only somewhat 
 intensified. He expects to need there all the articles which he 
 needs here, and such things as he can not make must be taken 
 with him. Hence it is that he is buried in his best clothes 
 and finery, and the tree in which his corpse is left is filled 
 with knives, gun, ammunition, pistol, and other articles. If an 
 Indian died poor, lacking such things, the band at once supply 
 his grave with every thing lacking, which they imagine he will 
 need. They do not suppose that he actually takes with him 
 the real gun, knife, and pistol, but they believe that if these 
 things are left by his grave, he will have their " ghosts " in the 
 other world. These articles at the grave of a deceased Indian 
 are never disturbed, it being preferred to die of starvation for 
 want of means to kill game rather than touch the gun and 
 ammunition thus consecrated. The Indian expects to ireet 
 enemies in the other world, and his notion is to make the num 
 ber as small as possible by taking as many scalps as he can 
 here. One superstition is, that a brave killed in the darkness 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1009 
 
 will dwell in the darkness through all eternity, a belief which 
 has saved many a white man's camp from the horrors of a 
 night attack. 
 
 The influence of the whites shows itself in a gradual decay 
 of belief among the Indians. The more startling superstitions 
 inevitably relax their hold upon their minds. Much more 
 marked, however, are the changes brought about in the gov 
 ernment of the Indians. Originally the office of head chief of 
 the tribe was hereditary, as were also those of the sub-chiefs. 
 As the chief grew old, he took into his counsels more and more 
 his most promising son, who inherited his father's rank. If the 
 head chief was not the foremost warrior of his tribe, the council 
 elected a war-chief. This individual, chosen for his ferocity, 
 was often much hated in times of peace, but on the war-path he 
 was all powerful. 
 
 Little by little the influence of the whites has broken down 
 the old system. The tribes have broken up into petty bands, 
 each recognizing no chief but its leader. Where the hereditary 
 chiefs have been friendly to the United States, they have often 
 lost their influence over their people. On the other hand, the 
 United States has frequently deposed one chief and elevated 
 another. Red Cloud, the leader of a certain hostile branch of 
 Sioux, derived his fame from his hostility to the whites, many 
 bands rallying around this leader. Spotted Tail, a warrior 
 from the common ranks, was, in 1876, raised to the position of 
 head chief of the Sioux. He is intelligent, and a firm friend 
 of the whites. It is only a few years since he went to Wash 
 ington City, and, returning to his people, found that Big Mouth, 
 an important rival, had been undermining his influence with the 
 warriors, and was the head of a growing faction, distinguished 
 alike by hostility toward the whites and toward Spotted Tail. 
 The latter, on his return, put himself in possession of the facts, 
 took counsel of no one, but summoning two confidential friends, 
 repaired to the lodge of Big Mouth. His face wore a look of 
 singular resolve and determination. Calling Big Mouth out of 
 
1010 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 his lodge, Spotted Tail suddenly presented a revolver, and shot 
 his rival through the heart. 
 
 The decline of the office of hereditary chief, of course, led 
 to the disintegration of each tribe into separate bands. For 
 merly it was almost worth an Indian's life, as well as those of 
 his family, to desert from one sub-chief to another. If caught 
 in the act the penalty was spoliation and death. If, however, 
 he succeeded in consummating the change, he was safe. When the 
 tribes were placed together on reservations, these opportunities 
 for desertion became so great that the various sub-chiefs laid aside 
 the character of tyrants and assumed that of the cross-roads poli 
 tician, using every art and policy to retain their followers. 
 
 Formerly, in the days of the despotism of the chiefs and 
 sub-chiefs, there existed among the Indians some restraints 
 against crime and disorder. Petty infractions of tribal disci 
 pline were promptly complained of to the chief and as promptly 
 punished by a fine, payable to the injured person; a penalty 
 which the men never failed to enforce. More serious offenses 
 had to be atoned for by religious sacrifices and self-torture. 
 The great law of retaliation was, however, the principle preven 
 tive of grave crimes. A murder was always avenged by the 
 relatives of the dead man, the family having the right and 
 always exercising it, of killing the murderer. One death often 
 led to others ; and the dark, unwritten history of family feuds 
 among the Indians is a vista of violence and bloodshed. 
 
 As may be supposed, contact with the whites, leading to 
 the decline of religion, and of the system of tribal government 
 through despotic chiefs and sub-chiefs, weakened, and to a great 
 extent destroyed, the restraint upon crime. The Indian agent, 
 who lives with each tribe on its reservation, thinks it his duty 
 to imprison any Indian who may be rash enough to avenge his 
 own injuries under the natural law of retaliation. The chiefs 
 no longer venture, as before, to levy fines, lest their followers 
 desert them ; and religious expiation has decayed with the 
 religion itself. 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1011 
 
 While the United States have thus undermined and destroyed 
 the Indians' own laws and government, it has afforded no sub 
 stitute. By the "treaty system" each tribe has been negotiated 
 with as an independent nation. Its members are not regarded 
 as citizens, nor subject to the laws of the United States. Dodge 
 gives an illustration of the evils of this state of affairs. One 
 day in November, 1880, Stone Calf, a prominent and intelligent 
 Cheyenne chief, came to him with a complaint. His favorite 
 child, a little girl of thirteen years, had been sent to a camp 
 seven miles away, with a message from her father. She was 
 accompanied by another girl. On their return home, a stalwart 
 ruffian, of Stone Calf's tribe, sprang out of a ravine, seized the 
 horse of Stone Calf's daughter, and, pointing a revolver at the 
 other girl, told her to leave, which she did. The ruffian then 
 took the maiden to his lodge, subjected her to frightful out 
 rages ; and then, becoming fearful of Stone Calf's revenge, hid 
 himself and the girl in a thicket. At night he took the girl 
 with him to the neighborhood of the military post, and leaving 
 her at a certain point, went to look for Stone Calf. In his ab 
 sence the girl escaped to her father. 
 
 On the following morning the heart-broken chief repaired to 
 Colonel Dodge, in command of the military post, and begged 
 for help. He said that if he killed the scoundrel according to 
 the law of his own people, the agent would imprison him in the 
 guard-house, and when he got out not only his one daughter, 
 but his wives and family would be outraged or stolen. The com 
 mandant told the father that there was no law of the white men 
 for the government of the Indians or the punishment of the 
 criminal. When the old man had the matter fully explained 
 to him, he turned his face, quivering with anguish, toward the 
 commandant, and in a trembling and sorrowful voice, said : " I 
 am sick of the Indian road; it is not good." There was a mo 
 ment's pause, then he added pitifully, " I hope the Good God 
 will give us the white man's road before we are all destroyed." 
 
 When Major Rogers, the captain of the famous Rangers, 
 
1012 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 whose exploits are related in an early chapter of this book, 
 returned to England after the close of the Old French War, he 
 laid aside the sword for the pen, and wrote and published a 
 drama, illustrative of the dealings of Dutch and British traders 
 with the Indians of America. It was entitled " Ponteach, or the 
 Savages, of America. A Tragedy." In the first scene, McDole, 
 an old trader, instructs a novice : 
 
 " Our fundamental maxim, then, is this, 
 
 That it is no crime to cheat and gull an Indian. 
 * * * * 
 
 By this old Ogden built his stately house, 
 
 Purchased estates and grew a little king. 
 He, like an honest man, bought all by weight, 
 
 And made the ignorant savages believe, 
 That his Right Foot exactly weighed a Pound." 
 
 The poet's description of the Indian trader is as true now 
 as it was a century and a quarter ago. 
 
 The Indian intellect can never grasp the idea of money as a 
 measure of value. The trader says, " I will give you ten cents 
 a pound for your deer-skins." The Indian accepts, sells his 
 skins, and asks how much they come to. This learned, he asks 
 the price of some calico, and is told "twenty-five cents a yard." 
 He buys the calico and never once suspects during the trans 
 action that each yard of calico has cost him two and a half 
 pounds of dressed deer-skin. 
 
 One day a Sioux Indian came into a military post, wearing 
 a splendid buffalo robe, beautifully ornamented by the handi 
 work of a loving squaw. The officers of the post made many 
 attempts to buy the robe, which was of rare value, offering as 
 much as twenty dollars ; but every negotiation failed. The 
 Indian said he did not want to sell it. A shrewd old sergeant, 
 familiar with Indian character, was one of the lookers-on at the 
 transaction. A thought struck him, and he quietly slipped away 
 from the group and in a few moments re-appeared, carrying in 
 his hand a two-pound package of loaf sugar, cut into small 
 cubes, which are so convenient for dropping into our coffee 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DA1: 1013 
 
 cups. He gave the Indian a few lumps and passed on care 
 lessly. In a moment the poor savage came running after him, 
 took off the robe, and offered it for the paper of sugar. The 
 sergeant was not slow in making the trade. The Indian seized 
 the package of sugar eagerly, sat right down on the ground and 
 slowly ate up every lump. 
 
 A similar story is told of another Indian, whom, if he had not 
 belonged to the Lipans, a Texas tribe, we would think was a 
 brother of the above savage. The incident took place at Fort 
 Martin Scott. An officer took from his pocket a small box, 
 opened it, removed what seemed to be one of a number of little 
 sticks, scratched one end of it on a stone, making it blaze, and 
 attempted to light his pipe. Failing in this attempt, he lighted 
 another and another until successful. The Indian looked on 
 with wide-eyed astonishment, and when he saw the smoke issu 
 ing from the pipe, hastily ran off, and in a few moments re 
 turned with a half dozen fine skins, which he offered for the 
 wonderful box. The exchange was made, and the Indian seated 
 himself on a stone, and with the solemnity of a judge, struck 
 match after match, holding each until the flame burnt his fingers, 
 when he would utter a strong " Ouch !" only to repeat the pro 
 cess- until the matches were all gone and his fingers covered 
 with blisters. 
 
 It is not wonderful that the traders fleece such victims. The 
 whole mighty department of Indian trade is said to be in the 
 control of a ring. Whether this be true or not, the Indian is 
 literally robbed. Each tribe is only allowed to sell their stuff, 
 and to buy goods of some single trader, licensed by the govern 
 ment. " The Indian brings the trader a lot of peltries, and is 
 offered in trade five or ten per cent of their value. He need 
 not sell, of course. If he does not choose to accept the trader's 
 price, he can take his peltries back with him to his camp. There 
 is no force, no persuasion about it. But if he does not sell to 
 this trader he is not allowed to sell at all. The poor devil, 
 hemmed in on all sides, accepts the situation exactly as he 
 
1014 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 would an unavoidable death at the stake, and whatever he may 
 think on the subject, makes no protest, but accepts any price 
 offered or gives any asked, without murmur or question." 
 
 The military posts of the frontier are supplied with fuel and 
 na y by contractors, who employ Indian labor. "A short time 
 ago," writes an officer at one of these posts, " I was told by an 
 Indian that he had cut twenty cords of wood for a contractor, 
 for which he was to receive one dollar and twenty-five cents 
 per cord. The wood was delivered, and he received an order 
 on an Indian trader, some sixty miles away, for payment of the 
 amount. In due time he presented the order and was paid one 
 pint cup of brown sugar for each cord of wood cut. 
 
 " Paul's Valley in the Chickasaw Nation is one of the garden 
 spots of earth. Thousands of bushels of corn are raised by 
 the Indians in and near this valley. They can sell only to the 
 Indian trader. I have been informed that the average price 
 paid the Indians is fifteen cents per bushel in goods (three to 
 five cents in cash). This corn is really worth there over one 
 dollar a bushel in cash." 
 
 Among the other misfortunes from which the Indians suffer, 
 as a result of their treatment by the United States, is that of 
 homesickness. No citizen of the United States suffers exile on 
 account of crime, but the government has always claimed and 
 exercised the right to remove and banish peoples with whom 
 they have treated as if they were independent nations from 
 their own country in perpetual exile. The Indians, banished 
 from warm regions to cold reservations in the north, or from 
 the bracing mountain air of Oregon and Montana to the sultry, 
 sandy plains of Indian Territory, suffer in body and in spirit 
 from the change. The older members of the tribe, heart-broken, 
 grow weary of life, and become willing victims to every chance 
 disease. The Indians understand the treatment of wounds per 
 fectly; but sickness is to them only the work of the Bad God. 
 Consequently almost the only treatment is a religious pow-wow 
 by the medicine men, who howl, sing, dance, and beat the torn- 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1015 
 
 torn around their victim, hour after hour, and day after day, to 
 frighten away the Evil Spirit. 
 
 The only other treatment for a patient is the use of what is 
 called the " sweat house." On the bank of a stream is built a 
 low structure of stones and mud six feet long, four or five feet 
 wide, and two feet high. A fire is built within, and when the 
 whole is thoroughly heated the fire and ashes are raked out; 
 the sick warrior, stripped naked, crawls in, and the opening is 
 closed after him. Here he remains as long as he can endure 
 it, and then he is taken out, reeking with sweat, and plunged 
 instantly into the stream. This treatment is said to be remark 
 ably beneficial in cases of rheumatism and fever. It is, how 
 ever, fatal to the small-pox patient ; yet the Indians persist in 
 it just the same as if it met with an equally uniform success. 
 
 Small-pox is the most dreaded foe of the red man. It breaks 
 out without discoverable cause in isolated bands, separated from 
 every human being by hundreds of miles of wilderness. When 
 it thus attacks a camp, those who are yet free from the disease 
 are seized with the wildest terror, and, leaving the unfortunate 
 sick behind, fly in all directions. Husbands abandon wives and 
 parents children, seeking to hide themselves in the unexplored 
 wilderness from the eye of the Wicked God. Their superstition 
 is not unreasonable, for the fearful scourge too often tracks and 
 follows the flying savage to his most secret hiding-place, and 
 there having cornered its victim, never abandons him until it 
 leaves him a white and loathsome corpse. 
 
 When on his death-bed from some ordinary wound or disease, 
 the Indian, it is said, will cause himself to be dressed in his best 
 clothing, call his friends and relatives about him, distribute his 
 little property, and await the end with the calmness of a phil 
 osopher. Sometimes, with his latest breath, he will chant his 
 death-song. At other times he will drag himself away to some 
 thicket, whence his friends shortly carry in his lifeless body. 
 
 Among the many changes which must be noted in a careful 
 comparison of the red man of to-day with the Indian warrior 
 
1016 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 who figures in the books of border warfare none are more strik 
 ing than those which have taken place in his weapons. The 
 bow and arrow is the natural arm of the Indian. In the use 
 of it he attains remarkable skill. In spite of this skill, as well 
 as of the fact that a warrior, grasping five to ten arrows in his 
 left hand, will shoot them with such rapidity that the last will 
 be on its flight before the first touches the ground, we are apt, 
 when we remember that a fatal wound can not be inflicted at a 
 distance of more than thirty yards, and compare this with the 
 wonderful repeating rifles of the present day, to regard the 
 Indian of former times, with his bow and arrow, as scarcely dan 
 gerous. In fact, however, he was not much less so than the man 
 armed with an old-fashioned blunderbuss or flint and steel mus 
 ket. When guns were first procured by some of the Indians, they 
 were prized chiefly on account of the noise they made. Until 
 an Indian is twenty-five years old, he has even yet, except 
 rarely, no other weapon than the bow. The finest of these are 
 made of pieces of elk horn, glued together, and wrapped with 
 sinew. In damp weather it is almost useless, and wooden bows 
 have entirely supplanted it. The arrows are made with stone 
 or iron heads. The war arrow has its head very slightly at 
 tached, so that on withdrawing the shaft, it may remain in the 
 wound. 
 
 The war club is a thing of the past, and the tomahawk, 
 though used for chopping wood, or sometimes as an ornament, 
 is no longer regarded as a weapon. The scalping-knife consists 
 merely of a good-sized butcher-knife. The lance, peculiar to 
 western Indians, is also being laid aside since the introduction 
 of fire-arms. 
 
 The head-dress of a warrior is often relied upon by him, 
 not only to elevate him among his own people, but to inspire 
 his enemy with terror. It consists largely of a greater or 
 less number of eagle feathers, according to the wealth of its 
 wearer. The article in which the Indian of the plains takes the 
 greatest pride is his shield. Its ornamentation is made the sub- 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1017 
 
 ject of years of anxious thought and study. It is his "med 
 icine," if any one knows what that means. It is cared for far 
 more delicately than an Indian child, and is almost worshiped 
 by its owner. It is usually a double thickness of the neck of 
 a buffalo hide, and is so hard as to turn almost any rifle-ball. 
 
 At the present day the majority of the warriors are the 
 owners of good rifles. The difference in caliber occasions them 
 great trouble, but they have a way of reloading empty cartridge 
 shells by forcing percussion caps through a hole in the bottom, 
 and filling the shell with powder and ball, which works well. 
 
 The breech-loading rifle and the metallic cartridges, have 
 transformed the Indian from a foe, dangerous only on account of 
 his stealth, into the finest natural soldier in the world. He re 
 tains many of his old resources in warfare. His night attacks, 
 his ambushes are just as dangerous as in the days of Braddock. 
 He still uses the signal smoke for communicating with his dis 
 tant brethren. A single column of smoke ascending from a fire, 
 on which is thrown some damp grass, indicates danger to all 
 Indians within the range of vision. Two columns of smoke 
 ascending at the same time indicate something else, and so on. 
 The signals are further varied by holding a blanket above the 
 fire till the smoke collects under it, then slipping the blanket 
 off edgewise, and in a moment replacing it. This manipulation 
 causes the smoke to ascend in round puffs, which have various 
 meanings, dependent upon their number and frequency. 
 
 The Indian scout of to-day has lost none of the qualities 
 which made him dangerous to the settlers of the Ohio valley. 
 His endurance is just as great, his sagacity just as keen as ever. 
 What to the officer at his side appear^ a mere speck far away 
 on the crest of a range of hills, he recognizes as a scout, and 
 he will receive and interpret a communication from the speck. 
 The brave has lost none of his skill as a trailer. He will fol 
 low a flying foe for a hundred and fifty miles through the wild 
 est, rocky country, over ground on which, to the inexpert eye, 
 not a mark appears, pressing forward at a full gallop and rarely 
 
1018 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 dismounting. In the night-time he will follow the trail by feel 
 ing the ground with his fingers. 
 
 In battle the Indians have a peculiar cavalry drill which 
 they have carefully practiced. At first view this drill lacks 
 uniformity; but presently the observer will discover that the 
 wild rushing from side to side, the sudden collecting into a 
 small knot, and the equally rapid scattering in all directions 
 over the plains, are not aimless movements, but are all maneu 
 vers performed in obedience to signals from the chief. These 
 signals consist of signs imperceptible to any white man, and not 
 understood even by the oldest Indian fighters. 
 
 The soldiers of the regular army, whose slender line has for 
 fifteen years been extended along the ragged boundaries of our 
 frontiers, deserve great credit for what they have accomplished. 
 Sixteen dollars a month, with rations and uniform, is not much 
 of an inducement for men to go to live in a wilderness and be 
 shot at by Indians. During the winter he is little more than a 
 laborer. His horse must be saved all exertion and cared for so 
 as to be in proper condition for the following summer. There 
 is little opportunity for cavalry drill, and when the recruit from 
 eastern cities finds himself attacked by a band of wild Indians, 
 who have devoted all their lives to the practice of the arts of 
 warfare, the soldier is at considerable disadvantage. The change, 
 which the introduction of the breech-loading rifle has made in 
 the warfare of the frontier, an innovation which reached the 
 soldiers before it did the Indians, but has since spread to the 
 latter also, is illustrated by the famous engagement known as 
 " Powell's Fight." To this day the engagement which, was but 
 one of scores which have been fought during the last fifteen 
 years, is known among the Sioux and Cheyennes as the "Med 
 icine Fight." 
 
 The . massacre of Fort Phil Kearney, from which no white 
 man returned to tell the tale, gave the Indians great encourage 
 ment. Red Cloud and his Sioux continued for months to har 
 ass the little garrison which remained in the fort. Encouraged 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1019 
 
 by his success in cutting off the main command outside of the 
 fort, and in preventing a single stick of wood or load of hay 
 from going into the place, he resolved to attack the fortification 
 itself. By the end of July, 1867, Red Cloud advanced on the 
 unhappy post at the head of three thousand warriors. Since 
 the massacre the fort had been supplied by the government 
 with a new weapon, never before seen by the soldiers, and 
 utterly unknown to the Indians. It was the breech-loading 
 rifle, combining long range and deadly accuracy with unprece 
 dented rapidity in firing. 
 
 On the 31st of July, 1867, Major James Powell left Fort 
 Phil Kearney with fifty-two men to re-enforce some laborers 
 who were at work gathering fuel at Piney Island, five miles 
 away. Arrived at the place, Major Powell detailed twelve men 
 to protect the wood-choppers, and thirteen more to escort the 
 wagons on their way to the fort. In addition to this, fourteen 
 wagon beds, made of boiler iron, sufficiently heavy to turn a 
 bullet, were lifted off the wheels and arranged in a small circle 
 in the middle of a plateau. Between every alternate wagon- 
 bed a short interval was left to enlarge the circle. These spaces 
 were filled with chains, logs, grain sacks, and sticks of wood. 
 On the most exposed side of this fortified corral, two other 
 wagons on wheels were placed at a little distance. The work 
 men in the forest were instructed in case of an attack to fly at 
 once to this stronghold, where the soldiers maintained a vigi 
 lant watch. 
 
 About nine o'clock, on the morning of August 2d, 1867, 
 seven hundred Indians attacked a wagon-train loaded with wood, 
 and advanced with such suddenness that the wood-choppers were 
 cut off from retreat to the corral and were forced to fly across 
 the mountain to the fort. The Indians at once turned their 
 attention toward the curious little redoubt out on the level pla 
 teau. Powell ordered his men to lie down in the wagon-beds, 
 the sides of which were only two feet high. Over the men 
 were then spread blankets and bedding, completely 'concealing 
 
1020 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCE*. 
 
 every one in the redoubt. These consisted of twenty-six sol 
 diers, two officers, and four citizens. In the sides of the wagon- 
 beds were holes large enough to fire through. 
 
 In a few moments eight hundred Indians on horseback 
 dashed across the plateau, approaching the corral from all sides. 
 A thousand yards away rose a circular range of low hills, on 
 which were several thousand Indians, men, women, and chil 
 dren, under Red Cloud. As the eight hundred horsemen swept 
 toward the corral, the dark hosts on the hills were spectators. 
 Suddenly the low, black circle on the plateau blazed with fire. 
 Numbers of the Indians fell. As the warriors continued to 
 approach, their ranks were thinned by the continuous firing from 
 the corral, which possessed a continuity, a rapidity, an accuracy 
 never before witnessed by the Sioux. Frightened and broken, 
 the warriors quickly checked their horses and fell back, leav 
 ing the plain dotted with the corpses of their friends. Red 
 Cloud held a hurried consultation with his chiefs, and the entire 
 host of warriors were ordered to the attack. 
 
 Meanwhile, Powell was quickly readjusting his defenses. 
 The gun-barrels had become overheated from the rapid firing. 
 To remedy this, spare guns were placed in each wagon. Some 
 of the men were poor shots. These were detailed to load 
 the guns and pass them forward to the best marksmen, who 
 were to do the firing. Scarcely had these arrangements been 
 made, when twenty-five hundred Indians swarmed down from 
 the hillsides and approached the little, black circle in which 
 not a single human being was to be seen, and yet from which, 
 ten minutes before, they had received such a fire as they had 
 never before witnessed. When within five hundred yards of 
 the wagon-beds, the host of warriors gave a mighty shout and 
 started forward at full speed. At the same moment a terrible 
 fire from the corral burst forth. 
 
 Heedless of their slain, the Indians rushed on. It seemed 
 that the survivors swarming forward must, in a moment more, 
 leap over the tiny barricade. But the guns of the white men 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1021 
 
 poured forth such a continuous storm of rifle balls that there 
 seemed to be no reloading. The singular corral wore the appear 
 ance to the excited Indians of an infernal machine. To them 
 the spot seemed to be inhabited by the Bad God himself. Again 
 and again they charged upon the redoubt, only to be each time 
 broken, discomfited, and driven back. At the end of three 
 hours Red Cloud decided that " the white man had made some 
 medicine guns which would fire all the time without any human, 
 agency." 
 
 The little band of heroes, looking out through their port 
 holes, saw the retreat of the host of savages to the hills. Not 
 less than three or four hundred of their number were dead upon 
 the field. Presently isolated warriors could be seen crawling- 
 along the ground till they came within range of the corraL 
 Each one carried in his hand the end of a long rope. Cov 
 ering himself with a thick shield of buffalo hide, which pro 
 tected him much as a turtle-shell does its occupant, he would 
 crawl to the nearest corpse, fasten the rope around the ankles y 
 and then retreat in the same way he had advanced. EL com 
 panions would drag the body back into cover. A little later, a 
 re-enforcement of a hundred men arrived from the fort. Tha 
 men in the wagons, of whom only three had been killed and 
 two wounded, at once prepared to retreat. The loss of the 
 Indians we have stated to have been three or four hundred. 
 This was the estimate of the white men. A month or two after 
 ward, a Sioux chief told Colonel Dodge that their actual loss 
 was eleven hundred and thirty-seven kitted and wounded. No other 
 such Indian fight ever took place on the continent. 
 
 The enormous advantage which the breech-loading rifle gave 
 the white men in this memorable fight now no longer exists. 
 The Indians have these weapons themselves. Hence it is that 
 the Indian wars of the last ten years have been far bloodier 
 than any preceding ones. 
 
 The Indians of the west never take prisoners, except to> 
 reserve them for torture and death. They rarely, if ever, bura 
 
1022 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 a prisoner at the stake, a custom as we have seen common 
 among the tribes east of the Mississippi. The Plains Indians 
 have a devilish substitute for this ceremony. A war party will 
 lay a captive on his back on the ground. His outstretched 
 arms and legs are tied with ropes to stout pins driven down. 
 The fiends then build a little fire near one of his feet. After 
 a time, when this foot is burnt to a coal, they build a fire at the 
 other foot. From time to time others are built near the legs, 
 arms, and body. The victim, stupid with agony, nevertheless 
 still lives. Last of all, a fire is built on his breast, and kept up 
 until the coals have burnt their way into his vitals and life 
 becomes extinct. 
 
 Some years since, a little drummer boy twelve years old 
 was captured by some Indians in Texas. The squaws tormented 
 him for several hours. At last they took pine splinters and 
 stuck them into the flesh all over his body. The splinters were 
 then fired, and the crowd yelled with joy at his sufferings. His 
 blackened body'was afterwards found by the soldiers. 
 
 The warrior is fond of capturing a woman. If she is at all 
 good looking she will command three or four times as many 
 ponies as the best looking Indian girl in the tribe. Yet in 
 comparison with the fate for which she is reserved the torture 
 fires which terminate the life of a man are infinitely preferable. 
 For the first few days she becomes the common property of the 
 camp. At the end of that time her captor takes her to his 
 lodge, and cares for her as his most valuable piece of property. 
 She is a favorite stake at the gambling table, and may change 
 masters half a dozen times a day. Once in a while these poor 
 shattered creatures are redeemed by the government at an enor 
 mous price. When redeemed all trace of their former beauty 
 and cleanliness is gone from the naked, filthy, and emaciated 
 creatures. 
 
 The Indian pony, his master's most faithful and valuable serv 
 ant, and for which a warrior will often give his favorite wife, 
 deserves an honorable mention. He is less than fourteen hands 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1023 
 
 high, of slight build and scrubby appearance. He receives no 
 attention whatever, is neither stabled, curried, shod, nor fed. 
 After a hard day's work under the saddle, which in all proba 
 bility wears .great sores in his back, he is simply turned out 
 to grass. In winter he becomes almost a skeleton. He is 
 exposed to the terrible storms of the plains, he stands much of 
 the time up to his middle in snow; his food consists largely of 
 sticks and bark, and altogether he is as forlorn and miserable an 
 object as was ever looked upon. When summer comes, he fares 
 much better, and is able to bear his rider over a rough country, 
 without roads, fifty miles a day, for six months, without losing 
 his fire and edge. 
 
 Among many better citizens, the wild life of the frontiers 
 also attracts some of the worst elements of civilized sp^ic-iy. 
 The noble and hardy race of trappers is about gons. In their 
 stead have come, thieves, cut- throats, escaped criminals, refugees 
 from justice, thugs, and whisky sellers. Some of these have 
 gone to dwell among the Indians. They are called "squaw 
 men." Lazy, filthy, and vicious, they are supported by the 
 labors of their squawg, and draw rations from the government 
 like other savagos. Their influence over the Indians is most 
 baleful. They prostitute the women, and abandon them and 
 
 if children whenever they please. 
 
 Not less pernicious is the influence of the traders, who, with 
 a keg of vile whisky on the back of a pony, thread their way 
 among the Indians on their reservations, debauching the poor 
 savages, and cheating them out of their furs and skins by pan 
 dering to their basest appetites. Yet another class of borderers 
 , are those who raise cattle, become wealthy, and return to the 
 The desperado, too, flourishes on the frontiers. With 
 him, assassination gets to be a mania. He carries a whole 
 arsenal of arms about him, shoots without provocation, not at 
 Indians merely, but for mere sport, at his best friends. A gen- 
 
 ian recently in the west, rode in a passenger car in which 
 before a party of roughs had had a little " argument." 
 
1024 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 Forty-nine bullets were buried in the walls and roof of the 
 coach. One of this class had been east and returned wearing a 
 plug hat. When he left the train his friends in the town caught 
 sight of the offensive hat, drew their revolvers, and in less than 
 a minute thirty-one shots had been fired through its crown, 
 while it still rested on the head of its smiling wearer. Without 
 doubt, though, many of these fierce-mannered fellows are at 
 heart noble and true men. 
 
 There are west of the Mississippi one hundred and two dif 
 ferent Indian reservations, with a population of about two hun 
 dred and twenty-five thousand. These are under the charge 
 of the Indian agents of the government. A small number of 
 Indians in Arizona and elsewhere are not in charge of these 
 ligeiiizy- The plundering and pilfering to which the Indians are 
 subjected has not been more than hinted at. The United States 
 in its treaties always guarantees that white men shall be kept 
 out of the reservations. ^Tfeis provision is continually and shame 
 lessly violati&i. ^Another monstrous iniquity is the fact that the 
 Indians on the reservations are being continually moved about 
 from one place to, another. They have nO property in the soil 
 which the law respects. The great cry is that the Indians 
 should settle down and go to farming. What wbite man is 
 there who would make a farm in a wilderness, when he knows 
 he may be ejected before he gathers his first crop ? Yet tie- 
 only condition on which an Indian can get land for himself is 
 to break the ties of kindred and friendship, leave his tribe, and 
 take land under the pre-emption and homestead laws. This is 
 but a joke, for very few Indians could raise money to pay the 
 fees necessary for the purpose. 
 
 An elaborate discussion of the " Indian question " would be 
 out of place in this book. Yet it would be wrong to dismiss 
 the subject forever without a word on the practical problem pre 
 sented. Questions of race are the most difficult ones which ever 
 confront the statesman. Such was the Negro question. Such 
 is the Chinese question. Such, also, is the Indian question. 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1025 
 
 It is clear that one of two destinies awaits the Indian 
 extermination or civilization. The frontiersman cries aloud for 
 the former. The writer has before him a letter from an old 
 friend, a minister of the Gospel, just received from Globe, Ari 
 zona, where he lives. For a year and a half a terrible Indian 
 war has been raging in the locality. Nine of his neighbors have 
 just been butchered in cold blood. The letter trembles with 
 rage. It is dripping, as it were, with blood. This minister of 
 the Gospel of Peace calls aloud for the extermination of the 
 murderous Apache race. He declares them to be incapable of 
 civilization. This is a cry from the frontier. It has some 
 justice in it. On the other hand, the press is flooded with pub 
 lications from sentimentalists, who, far away from the scene of 
 slaughter, weep over the wrongs of the red man, over violated 
 treaties, over natural rights, and bitter exile. They talk of 
 patriotism. They quote the speeches of Indian chieftains. 
 They recount the robbery, the murder, the outrage, to which 
 the Indians have been constantly subjected since the advent of 
 the white man on this continent. There is also some justice 
 in all this. 
 
 So both of these parties have some truth on their side. It 
 must be admitted that the Indians, with here and there a few 
 noble exceptions, are by nature cruel, deceitful, ferocious, and 
 blood-thirsty. Yet so were our own ancestors. The ancient 
 Gaul, the Celt, the Dane, the Saxon, was just as much of a beast, 
 just as blood-thirsty, just as cruel as the Indians. Whoever 
 reads history knows this to be a fact. The farther back we go, 
 the worse our ancestors become. If some of the races seem, at 
 their worst, to have been better than the Indian, it is because 
 the history we have of them does not go back far enough. 
 
 The pages of this book contain accounts of no. " medicine 
 man" whose cruelty equals that of the Druids, who worshiped 
 long ago with dark and bloody rites in the forest temples of 
 early France. The wild savages who peopled ancient Britain 
 were a race far inferior to the Indian. The huge warriors of 
 
 58 
 
1026 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 northern Europe have no advantage in a comparison with the 
 nobler tribes of the Red Man. The bloody feuds of the inhab 
 itants of early England, which the historian denominates wars 
 between rival kingdoms, are not so much better than the wars 
 of the Indians, after all. They had few historians and no bor 
 der chroniclers to hand down vivid pictures of the black and 
 bloody struggles, as we have had in America, but the student 
 of history will read between the lines. It is to be remembered, 
 also, that the Indians have neither literature nor historians of 
 their own. Their history has been written by their enemies. 
 When accounts of Indian outrages flash over the wires, it is to 
 be remembered that the red men have no access to the tele 
 graph to tell their side of the story. The historians of border 
 warfare were themselves combatants ; they wrote while the 
 rage and frenzy of the conflict was upon them. The warriors 
 )f King Philip, who were painted by the New England imag 
 ination as infernal fiends, fled to the far West and joined La 
 Salle, who found them kind, faithful, intelligent, his most trusty 
 followers: Actual experiment shows, too, that Indians are cap- 
 tble of civilization. 
 
 That the policy of the United States toward the red man 
 tas been a huge failure, so far as accomplishing their civiliza 
 tion is concerned, must be admitted. This policy has been 
 founded on a colossal blunder the treating with Indian tribes 
 if they were independent nations. Nearly every Indian war 
 the history of this country can be traced to these treaties 
 rhich were never meant to be kept by the white men, or if 
 iey were, the impossibility of keeping was demonstrated a 
 Lundred years ago. It is the commonest principle of law, that 
 ie violation of an agreement by one party is a release of the 
 other. Yet the government, in spite of its own flagrant viola 
 tions of treaty faith, has uniformly made these treaties excuses 
 for the exile of the tribes. The very organization of Indian 
 tribes itself precluded honest treaties. There was no legitimate 
 treaty-making power. A few chiefs, dazzled with presents and 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1027 
 
 drunk with liquor, signed agreements which the savage hands, 
 by the customs of their people, were not bound to recognize. 
 
 Yet one blunder led to others. What is the legal status of 
 the Indians on the reservations ? Are they prisoners of war ? 
 It looks much that way. But even prisoners of war are enti 
 tled to protection under the laws of their captors. Within the 
 reservations there is no law except the savage law of the tribes 
 themselves. Are they, then, independent nations ? What a 
 huge fiction! What a monstrous contradiction! Startling is 
 the contrast between the Indian tribes of the United States and 
 of the British Dominion. We have spent millions of money and 
 sacrificed thousands of brave men in a warfare of extermination. 
 Great Britain has done neither. 
 
 With us the Indian problem is still unsettled. The con 
 science of the country cries out against the outrages perpe 
 trated on the unhappy savages in the name of civilization. 
 The "Indian problem" never arose in Great Britain. She has 
 simply called the Indians subjects of the queen, and amenable 
 to ordinary civil laws and criminal courts for bad behavior. 
 We call the Indian tribes independent nations, and place them 
 outside of the pale of our own laws while destroying their own. 
 An Indian commits an outrage, a crime. There is no law to 
 punish him, except under the crude and irregular penalties 
 which the military inflict in time of war on such captives as 
 fall into their hands. 
 
 The problem is complicated enough at best. The Indians 
 refuse to learn the English language. This forever isolates them 
 from the influences of civilization. Their own institutions and 
 education, handed down by the law of inheritance from an antiq 
 uity of unknown duration, teach that manual labor is disgrace 
 ful. " Extremes meet " is a maxim illustrated by the fact that 
 the higher our civilization the more widely this same sentiment 
 of the disgrace attaching to physical labor prevails. 
 
 So long as the tribal relation continues among the Indians, 
 communism in property, including wives, will also continue. 
 
1028 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 How immensely important, therefore, that the government, 
 instead of driving the red men from one reservation to another 
 in response to the greed of white emigrants, should allot them 
 ample territories which they should own absolutely, and care 
 fully encourage each Indian to feel that in taking a tract to 
 himself in severalty and making a farm he is making, not only 
 a permanent home for himself, but an inheritance for his chil 
 dren. It is right, too, that the Indians should be taught to feel 
 that they have a share in our government. "At this moment, 
 the Creeks, Cherokees, Chickasaws, Choctaws, the remnants of 
 the Six Nations in New York, the Pueblos of New Mexico and 
 Arizona, are as fit for citizenship as the average white immigrant 
 or negro voter." 
 
 Of our prisoners of war on the reservations are expected the 
 most unreasonable things. In localities so dry that no crop can 
 ever be raised, they are expected to become all at once good 
 farmers. The enormous appropriations of Congress for their 
 support are largely squandered or misapplied by corrupt officials 
 through manipulation of the "trade" with the Indians. One 
 tribe was promised in a treaty so many pounds of beef a year. 
 Congress appropriates the same amount of money each year for 
 this purpose. But the price of beef rises. The appropriation 
 falls far short of buying the requisite number of pounds. The 
 Indians, who are left to starve, look on this as intentional 
 robbery. 
 
 The problem of supplying the Indians with food excites 
 much difference. The late Secretary of the Treasury thought 
 that it was pernicious; that lazy Indians were made still lazier 
 by feeling that the government owed them a living, and idle 
 ness is the great source of Indian mischief. He thought that it 
 would spoil white men to care for them in this way; hence, 
 he reasoned, how far short would this policy fall of civilizing 
 the Indians and teaching habits of industry, virtue, and self- 
 support. 
 
 Theoretically this is right. But like many another proposi- 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1029 
 
 tion, logical in theory, the illogical reverse works better in prac 
 tice. The natural food of the Indians, the buffalo and wild 
 game generally, has been destroyed by the white men. The red 
 men themselves have been violently transplanted to reservations 
 where they are virtually prisoners of war. Humanity cries out 
 against starving a prisoner. Even experienced farmers would 
 find it difficult to subsist in a wilderness, without food and tools 
 for farming obtained from other sources, until they got the farm 
 started. How much more difficult for the proud and lazy war 
 rior, whose fathers for countless generations never put their 
 hands to a plow-handle, but spent their lives amid the excite 
 ments of the chase or the war-path. Besides, hungry Indians are 
 dangerous. Starvation transforms the most peaceable man into 
 a devil, mad with the wild insanity of hunger. So the govern 
 ment, it seems, ought to feed the Indians for the present, care 
 fully keeping in view the end of their ultimate self-support. 
 
 It is a mere question of time until the white men over 
 run Indian Territory and the other reservations, as they have 
 done all previous ones. Not less than a dozen railroads apply 
 to the Interior Department and obtain rights of way through 
 these reservations every year. First comes the army of track- 
 builders, then stations spring up, with depot and telegraph 
 agents, postmaster, express agent, and switchmen. These men 
 have families. A store is opened. A blacksmith shop is built. 
 From every passenger-train disembark explorers, sight-seers, 
 speculators, emigrants. Almost in a night the line of the rail 
 way is strung with beads of thriving villages. All this is in 
 violation of the treaty, which provided for railroad rights of 
 way, but also provided that all white men should be excluded 
 from the reservation. 
 
 If, without further discussion, we sum up what seem to us 
 the most important changes to be made, we would say : 
 
 1. Avoid alike the extremist who cries aloud from the 
 frontiers for the extermination of the Indian, and the extrem 
 ist who lifts up his tearful voice in the quiet villages of the 
 
 ' 
 
1030 
 
 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 east, and pleads that all soldiers be withdrawn, and the Indians 
 left to the care of the pious missionaries. 
 
 2. Abolish the treaty system and all existing treaties, bury 
 ing with them the infamous fiction of the national independence 
 of the tribes. 
 
 3. Bring the Indians into legal relations with the government, 
 under the control and protection of civil and criminal law, to be 
 dealt with by the courts. 
 
 4. As the execution of law always comes at last to an 
 actual exertion of physical force, let the courts be re-enforced by 
 ample means and resources to carry out the law. In other 
 words, let them be supplemented by a powerful police, under 
 whose supervision the Indians will be placed, like any other 
 citizens. As the worst quarters of a city have the strongest 
 police force stationed in their midst, let the same rule apply 
 with the Indians. Let this police force consist of the Regular 
 Army of the United States. If this is a violation of military 
 traditions, let the army be reorganized. 
 
 5. Abolish the Indian Bureau, and sweep out of existence 
 the whole class of Indian agents and traders. Let the Indians 
 have free trade with the whole world, selling their corn and furs 
 to the person who will pay the highest price, and buying their 
 goods of the person from whom they can^be bought the cheapest. 
 From this freedom of trade, two exceptions should be made. 
 It should be a criminal offense with heavy penalties to sell, bar 
 ter, give away, have in possession, or bring into the reservation 
 any fire-arm, or intoxicating drink. The only persons author 
 ized to carry weapons should be the police. 
 
 6. The title to the reservations should at once be made 
 absolute and indefensible in the Indian tribes, as tenants in com 
 mon, and each Indian should have his tract set off to him in 
 severalty as soon as he will consent to try farming. The 
 Indian is as much entitled to the protection of vested rights 
 in property as the white man. While it may be impossible 
 to keep the whites out of the reservations, as it is, the world- 
 
THE RED MAN OF TO-DAY. 1031 
 
 wide law of trespass, enforced by the courts, will protect an 
 Indian's farm from intrusion as well as any one else's. 
 
 7. Every Indian who is willing to farm should be helped to 
 build a house, and procure stock and farming implements. If 
 he misappropriates these things he should be punished like any 
 other embezzler. Meanwhile he should be honestly supplied 
 with constantly decreasing amounts of money to buy food. 
 
 8. Open to the Indian community the usual methods of 
 organization, into counties, and ultimately into States, teaching 
 all the time lessons of self-government. 
 
 9. Establish Government schools for the instruction of Indian 
 youth. Herein lies the hope of the future. The young are easy 
 to teach; the old are difficult. Experiments show that after 
 all this is the true and ultimate solution for the Indian problem. 
 A few schools have already been established. These are of 
 three classes. First are the day schools. These are temporary, 
 and are intended to disarm prejudice. Even where they have 
 been started, not one in ten of the children can be admitted for 
 lack of room. The main work of these schools is to teach a 
 little of the English language, and the first notions of cleanliness 
 and the white man's way of living. What is accomplished dur 
 ing school hours is largely undone when the children are out 
 of school, they returning at once to Indian speech and manners. 
 
 Far more valuable is the boarding-school at the agency, 
 where the children are taken to live all the time, except during 
 vacation. This school is watched closely by the parents of the 
 children. Their dull and sluggish minds are stirred with sur 
 prise. The kitchen, the sewing-room, the bedrooms, the school, 
 the dinner table, the farm, are each the source of profound 
 astonishment. These ideas carried back to the lodges will in 
 time bear fruit, no doubt, though the process is a slow one. In 
 the first two years at the boarding-school the child learns a 
 good deal of the English language, and many of the modes of 
 civilized life. This is all. But the vacations prove deleterious. 
 When the pupils return to school in the fall the teacher finds 
 
1032 INDIAN TRAGEDIES AND ROMANCES. 
 
 them apparently as much savages as ever. They are again 
 using the hideous Indian jargon, again eating with their fingers, 
 and again shoot at the chickens with bow and arrow. The crust 
 of barbarism gathered during the summer soon wears away, but 
 there have been established three schools at Hampton, Carlisle, 
 and Forest Grove where, far away from savage influences, se 
 lected pupils are sent to learn trades. Thus by degrees the 
 leaven of a better civilization is diffused through the dull mass 
 of savage life lying beyond the Mississippi. 
 
 The rise of the Red barbarian from his old level is 
 even under the fierce stimulus of contact with an aggressive 
 race exceedingly slow, sometimes scarcely perceptible, not 
 infrequently reversed. In an age of rapid progress, when im 
 mediate results are expected by impatient philanthropy, the 
 metamorphosis of the Indian into the citizen, the savage hunter 
 into the resident civilian, is doubted by some, despaired of by 
 many. The gradual relaxation of the old barbaric habit and 
 the substitution of the garb and manners of society are pro 
 cesses requiring generations for their fulfillment. Meanwhile, 
 the surging tides of advancement beat against the feeble bar 
 riers which a sense of justice or expediency has interposed 
 between the Red Man and his doom. While the slower move 
 ment of reason is going on silently and surely, the rapid and 
 inexorable work of force is pressing the remnant of our Abor 
 igines to. the borders of their destiny. 
 
 Nor may the author, in taking leave, not unregretfully, of 
 the subject which has occupied so much of his attention and 
 interest, assume the office of a prophet, and lift the veil from the 
 future of this strange and problematical people. The task pro- 
 posed in the beginning finds here an end, but the theme still 
 lingers as if but half completed. 
 
 Farewell to thee, O rugged Pioneer ! 
 
 And e'en to thee, dark Specter of the West! 
 The one completes his hazardous career, 
 
 The other sinks on distant plains to rest. 
 
8-5 
 
 A737 
 
|u 
 
 "' ' '. I