THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Henry W. Shoemaker
 
 Black Forest Souvenirs 
 
 Collected in Northern Pennsylvania 
 
 Henry W. Shoemaker 
 
 (Author of Pennsylvania Mountain Stories) 
 
 *But as there are quiet spots in the world 
 where drift-wood accumulates undisturbed, 
 so there are quiet spots where popular 
 tales nourish in peace, because no man 
 has interfered with them." 
 
 J. F. Campbell 
 "Popular Tales of the West Highlands' 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 Published by Bright-Faust Printing Co. 
 READING, PENN'A 
 
 1914 
 
 (Copyrighted, all rights reserved)
 
 P/S7 
 
 EXPLANATORY PREFACE. 
 
 The writer of these lines has always felt the 
 thrill of the words Black Forest. As a small 
 boy he used to gaze at the bold outlines of the 
 Allegheny Mountains, on the opposite side of 
 the broad valley from the old fashioned home 
 where he spent most of his time, which formed 
 the southern boundary of the vast regions of 
 hemlock, spruce and pine. All kinds of fancies 
 flashed through his mind, dreams of strange 
 races of people, of Indians, of outlaws, of witch- 
 es, ghosts, lumbermen, wild beasts and birds, 
 
 7581 i>6
 
 that must inhabit this wilderness. And for more 
 definite information he took to inquiring of the 
 old people and strangers how the Black Forest 
 really looked, how big it was and who lived there. 
 The general replies were that it was a vast do- 
 main of enormous trees, mostly evergreens, that 
 it was sixty miles from east to west, and forty 
 miles from north to south, that hunters, lumber- 
 men and some farmers lived in it, also many 
 bears and deer, a few panthers, and that until 
 a few years previously there had been wolves, 
 elks and countless flocks of wild pigeons. 
 
 As the result of this information a great long- 
 ing arose in him to visit the Black Forest, to see 
 it with actual vision, rather than with the eye 
 of faith. Every account of lumbering or hunt- 
 ing that had its location there which appeared 
 in the county newspapers was eagerly read, and 
 enlarged in the imagination; every person was 
 questioned who might have views of any kind 
 concerning it. 
 
 But life with its strange deprivations with- 
 held this joy until the summer of 1898, when the 
 writer was a young college student. But it was 
 not too late, much of the Black Forest remained, 
 in range after range of hemlock-clad mountains,
 
 even though the big lumber companies had com- 
 menced their cruel inroads. Many of the old 
 pioneers and hunters, as well as a few of the 
 Indians, still lived, and were ready to impart 
 their stories of the past to any respectful listen- 
 er. And those days and nights in the original 
 forest, amid strange scenes and stranger imag- 
 eries will never be forgotten. In 1899, 1900, 
 1901 and 1902 other pilgrimages through the 
 forest were made, on foot, on horseback or in car- 
 riages. The impression made in 1898 was fur- 
 ther cemented into the soul by a host of fresh 
 experiences and dreams. Then life withheld 
 the Black Forest until 1907, although in the 
 meantime the famous German Schwarzwald had 
 been visited and admired and reverenced. 
 
 But what a change those five years had made. 
 Where was the Black Forest? Miles of slash- 
 ings, fire-swept wastes, emptiness, desolation, 
 ruin met the eye on every side; the lumbermen 
 had done their work. Hoping against hope, the 
 writer rode on, but only dreariness was his por- 
 tion. Gone were the hemlocks, beeches, maples 
 and pines; gone the sweet singing birds, the 
 balmy breezes, gone even were the lumbermen 
 with, their red or blue shirts, the lumber camps,
 
 the steinwinder log railways, gone was every- 
 thing but ruin. Other trips were taken into the 
 "forest" in 1908, 1909 and 1910. These visits 
 only accentuated the sense of sadness for the 
 arboreal paradise that was no more, which on 
 the wholesale plan, lumbering had swept away. 
 The hand of man had changed the face of nature 
 from green to brown. It was during these lat- 
 ter visits that the writer thought more of the 
 ancient legends which were so easy to hear in 
 1898, but so difficult to obtain in 1910. What 
 were listened to with seeming indifference then, 
 were listened to breathlessly towards the last. 
 As the result, the contents of this volume were 
 obtained, and many more, and written out in 
 the form of notes. In order that their origin 
 can be traced the names of the persons who told 
 the narratives are set down in the index; some 
 of these informants still live, while others unfor- 
 tunately have passed to their reward. 
 
 During the past month or so eighteen of the 
 legends have been transferred from notes into 
 enlarged form. They are exactly as told by the 
 old people and others, except that here and there 
 names of persons and places, and a few dates 
 have been changed in order to avoid giving of-
 
 fense. But sometimes the "offense" is on the 
 other side. A letter was received after the pub- 
 lication last winter of another collection of le- 
 gends, "In the Seven Mountains," in which a 
 gentleman, born and raised in the region de- 
 scribed, stated that the stories were correct, only 
 they were "badly dislocated." This had been 
 purposely done in some cases, but in others it 
 was unintentionally due to the lack of exactness 
 of the various informants in recounting incidents 
 which happened years before. One newspaper 
 commented on the fact that the characters used 
 such good English in their dialogues, it seemed 
 strange that backwoodsmen could be such rhe- 
 toricians. But there was no need of dialect in 
 these stories, they were preserved as folk lore 
 and not as samples of backwoods talk. It is the 
 quaintness of the tales themselves and not the 
 way in which they were told that warranted 
 their preservation. 
 
 Dialect stories are galore ; there is hardly room 
 for more of them, even though the Pennsylvania 
 mountains are still without their Charles Egbert 
 Craddock, John Fox, Jr., or Amelie Rives. 
 There seems to be a valid reason for writing out 
 these legends. They treat of a phase of life that
 
 is no more, in a region which has been laid 
 waste, that can never be restored. They are a 
 chapter added to American folk-lore, especially 
 as relating to the Indians. It is interesting to 
 observe that some of them undoubtedly have 
 a common origin with legends across the sea. 
 This summer, while the writer was on a driving 
 trip in the Blue Mountains of Eastern Pennsyl- 
 vania, in Berks, Lehigh, Schuylkill and Lebanon 
 Counties, he found legends similar to ones col- 
 lected in the Black Forest. If the writer had 
 been born in time to make his first trip through 
 this matchless forest in 1878, or even in 1888, 
 instead of when he did, he is certain that he 
 could have collected many more and far more 
 quaint old tales. Think of the pioneers and In- 
 dians who went to their graves with their stories 
 unrecorded ! The modest graves in highland 
 cemeteries in 1898, and many thereafter, whose 
 occupants the writer was not fortunate enough 
 to meet bear mute testimony to this. 
 
 Doubtless some one could have done this work 
 more thoroughly or better, it deserved more 
 time, but the truth remains that no one else has 
 tried. But the writer can say that he has writ- 
 ten with sympathy, for he loved the people whose
 
 curious lives he sought to portray, he loved the 
 grand forest which was the background, and the 
 crowning influence in their existence. He has 
 sought to show what was beautiful, what was 
 best, although if the result may have been paint- 
 ed in sombre tones, they were the tones of truth. 
 He believes in the reliability of his sources of 
 information, he has verified wherever possible, 
 though verification where there is no document- 
 ary evidence is fraught with difficulties. He be- 
 lieves that in years to come the folk-lore and 
 traditions of inland Pennsylvania, such as set 
 forth in his several volumes, will rank with the 
 old tales of Scotland, Ireland, France, Germany 
 and Russia, which have been so systematically 
 collected and preserved. This historical bi-pro- 
 duct has a right to live on, for there is value to 
 it just as was the case with gasolene, so long 
 wasted by oil manufacturers. It will come to 
 its own, and Central and Northern Pennsylvania 
 as a land of romance will rank with other regions 
 immortal in song and story. To those who ad- 
 mire these beautiful regions, which surely God 
 loved best, the bizarre happenings of the sturdy 
 pioneers and the doomed Indians must always 
 awaken a pang of interest.
 
 And this is the writer's explanation, or apolo- 
 gy, if any is needed. But before he closes, he 
 Mashes to thank press and public for their con- 
 tinued and exceptional kindnesses towards his 
 former volumes. He wishes to express his grati- 
 tude to the old men and women who took the 
 time to tell him the legends. They have all 
 made him realize how many very kind people 
 there are in the world, especially in Pennsyl- 
 vania. 
 
 HENRY W. SHOEMAKER. 
 
 Riverside, Connecticut, June 8, 1914.
 
 I. 
 
 JOHN DECKER'S ELK. 
 (A Black Forest Souvenir.) 
 
 T was Springtime on Portage 
 Branch. The elkwood was in 
 bloom. In the recesses of a 
 deep swamp, along the edges 
 of which Great Blue Herons 
 nested in the stag-topped crests of the tall white 
 pines, three Wapitis or Pennsylvania Stags were 
 resting themselves. Their leader was an enor- 
 mous bull, long-bodied, drab-colored, strong of 
 antlers to which the velvet still hung in clusters 
 like the maple-bud rosettes, whose deep, full 
 
 21
 
 22 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 brown eyes betokened unusual intelligence and 
 patience. By his side stood a well-formed cow, 
 drab-colored, with eyes like those of her lord 
 and master, but infinitely deeper and kinder. 
 Hidden behind her was a very robust looking 
 bull-calf, unusually large and vigorous for his 
 age. At frequent intervals he shook his little 
 head and bristled his tiny mane, for he was rest- 
 less and anxious to see more of the beautiful 
 forest-world into which he had ben so recently 
 born. 
 
 The Springtime soon ushered in the Summer, 
 and even the young calf relished the cool retire- 
 ment of the swamp, so silent save for the occa- 
 sional croak of the nesting herons, and the frogs. 
 Then the nights became colder, and on the sum- 
 mits of the nearby but unseen mountains wolves 
 barked. The cricket and katydid songs sudden- 
 ly diminished from full choruses to occasional 
 wandering minstrels. 
 
 The first snow came, and the elk sought the 
 valleys, browsed and huddled together, while 
 the fierce winds rattled the dead tops of the 
 pines. Sometimes through the openings in the 
 branches above their coats were dappled by cold
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 starlight. Then came heavy rains, warm days, 
 the disappearance of the snow. The skunk cab- 
 bage quickly appeared along the edges of the 
 swamp, there were bird songs that recalled the 
 previous year. The elk family wandered back 
 to higher lands, finding themselves again in the 
 inaccessible swamp on Portage Branch. 
 
 One morning the stalwart bull-calf awoke to 
 find a newcomer in the family circle. The slim- 
 mer neck, narrower head, and wilder, more ap- 
 pealing eyes, betokened that it was a sister who 
 had come to swell their numbers. 
 
 With the blooming of the elkwood the bull- 
 calf felt a tickling sensation on the crown of 
 his head. He began to rub his skull against the 
 brown bark of the original pines but could find 
 no surcease. Soon little growths, like swellings 
 appeared. They dripped blood at the slightest 
 contact with other substances. As the season 
 advanced, and the little sister waxed slimmer, 
 and more lithe, and more beautiful, the bumps 
 on the bull-calf's head became more to resemble 
 miniature horns. The bull-calf was very proud 
 of his embryo antlers, and tossed his head, and 
 sometimes tried to roar like his sire but his
 
 24 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 voice cracked in an adolescent squeak. All 
 through the Summer the elk family were quies- 
 cent. The bull-calf wondered why no effort was 
 made to venture far from the deep, and insect 
 teeming swamp. The nights became colder. 
 The herons flew away. The katydid and cricket 
 choruses lessened, bird songs were no more, even 
 the wild pigeons had ceased their cooing. Only 
 a solitary liylode piped. Wolves barked on the 
 unseen heights. Once a panther's scream, its 
 love song, long, weird and terrible, reverberated 
 the entire nocturnal atmosphere. On grey after- 
 noons the "dum, dum, dum," the drumming of 
 the ruffed grouse was heard. 
 
 One morning, when the sun was climbing over 
 the mountain tops, and the maple leaves were 
 particularly golden, a strange series of sounds 
 came to the ears of the elk family. It was bang, 
 bang, bang, and to the minds of all of them some 
 instinct said that it was the report of the weap- 
 ons of their most inexorable, and incomprehen- 
 sible foe, mankind. All that day and that night 
 the elk family huddled more closely together in 
 the depths of the dismal swamp. The bull-calf 
 needed no one to tell him now why his elders
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 25 
 
 were so cautious. While he had never seen a 
 man, he had been born with a fear of an arch 
 and horrible enemy, beside which panther, wolf, 
 or rattlesnake paled into insignificance. But 
 the instinct of the race grew stronger every 
 night. The voice first a tremolo, then cracked 
 and unmusical, grew into something loud and 
 sonorous. One night he poured forth his soul 
 to the wilderness, and in tones of which he was 
 not ashamed. But the only answer was the echo 
 from the unseen mountains. Other nights pro- 
 duced no other results. Again the instinct which 
 always made for self-preservation, told him that 
 there never would be an answer, that if he must 
 continue his race his mate must be his little 
 sister. This dulled a little the keenness of his 
 joy of masculinity. But he showed it in no other 
 way than that he stopped his night-song. His 
 eyes assumed a softer expression, he became 
 more solicitous for the comfort of his mate-to- 
 be, edging her to where the browse was choicest. 
 The winter came on again. With bumps on 
 his skull now fashioned into erect broad prongs, 
 and with throat full and mane shaggy, he was 
 almost a match for his majestic sire. Snow fell,
 
 26 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 the elk family migrated southward, to another 
 hidden swamp in the lowlands. There they were 
 in comfort for a while. One morning they were 
 roused from their ruminations by a savage yelp- 
 ing, a sound which lacked all the noble melody 
 of wolfish or catlike cries. Man's henchmen, 
 dogs, were somewhere in the forest. It was too 
 late to fly, the elk family must wait, perhaps the 
 enemies would pass them by. But it was not to 
 be. There came an awful crackling of brush 
 and twigs, and soon two spotted, hideous looking 
 hounds with flapping ears bounded into the 
 centre of the swamp. 
 
 Quick as a flash the old bull went at them with 
 lowered antlers, and tossed them torn and bleed- 
 ing among the hazels. Barely had they been 
 dispatched, when a man, thickset, bearded, red- 
 capped, clad in furs, bearing something long 
 and glistening, appeared at the verge of the 
 swale. He was Jim Jacobs, full-blooded Seneca 
 hunter, the terror of the wapitis of Northern 
 Pennsylvania. 
 
 The thought flashed through the bull-calf's 
 mind "How can this little thing hurt us, wipe 
 out our race, level the forest covers, change the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 27 
 
 very aspect of the world, how dare he!" Quick 
 as he could think the diminutive Indian had the 
 long, glistening thing his rifle, to his shoulder, 
 and aiming, fired, and down fell the mother elk, 
 choicest of the quartette from a pot hunter's 
 point of view. Blood, bright red, gushed from a 
 hole in her neck, as she toppled over on her 
 side into the snow. The old bull-elk gave a snort 
 of alarm and command, and trotted away fol- 
 lowed by his two offspring who trusted him im- 
 plicitly. There was no second shot. 
 
 Evidently Jacobs was satisfied with the cow- 
 elk, for when far to the north, the elk trio 
 paused for breath, there came no further appre- 
 hensions of danger. The spisode produced a 
 profound impression on the survivors. They 
 wintered in a northern swamp, enduring great 
 hardships. On some nights they were almost 
 buried in avalanches of snow. There was browse 
 enough, if they could but reach it. The elk fam- 
 ily became very lean and listless as the long 
 winter waned. The bull-elk hung his head, he 
 acted like some old, discouraged man. The 
 younger elks longed for the chance to move, to 
 wander, but the will of their sire was strong
 
 28 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 enough to hold them close to the confines of the 
 swamp. Before the snow was all gone, even be- 
 fore the mayflower budded, ominous barking of 
 the wolves on the unseen mountains, disturbed 
 the peaceful slumbers of the elks. The night 
 winds rattled the dead tops of the ancient white 
 pines, banshee-like in their warnings. 
 
 One grey morning, while the elk family stood 
 motionless, a strange patter of feet was heard. 
 It could not be man's ally, the dogs, there was 
 no yelping or barking. The enemies, whatever 
 they were, were approaching, silently save for 
 their footfalls on the rattling leaves and snow 
 patches. Like a sudden storm, they were upon 
 the elks, and running about them in circles, 
 great, gaunt, grey creatures, all jaws wolves. 
 At a snarling order from the leader the ugly 
 mob singled out the old bull elk for their fury. 
 Reaching with the wide jaws for his gambrel 
 joints, they bit him fiercely, and he was quickly 
 rendered crippled and helpless. As he fell to his 
 knees, the leader of the wolves, with one snap, 
 tore his throat open. Meanwhile, the two 
 younger wapitis had a chance to escape, and 
 they made good use of it. They travelled stead-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 29 
 
 ily until nightfall. Self-preservation dulled 
 their grief for their sire. When they stopped 
 the rustle of leaves frightened them, sounding 
 to them like wolfish footfalls. 
 
 They travelled all night, aimlessly, but their 
 direction was southerly. They rested a while 
 in a secluded swamp at dawn, but soon their 
 instinct moved them on. At noon they came 
 to a broad stream of water, the Sinnemahoning ; 
 they were making ready to plunge into it, and 
 to cross, when they noticed a log cabin, with 
 creatures, human beings, moving about it, on the 
 opposite shore. The elks slunk back into the 
 tanglewood, and remained motionless until all 
 was dark. Then for the first time in their lives, 
 they swam, and were soon on the other side, 
 landing about a quarter of a mile below the 
 log-cabin. A high mountain reared its precipi- 
 tous cliffs close to the water's edge. The refu- 
 gees made no attempt to scale it or to reconnoi- 
 tre until next morning, when their mutual de- 
 cision was to find sanctuary among its pinnacles. 
 They wandered in an easterly direction along 
 its base through a tangle of wild grapes, water- 
 birches and elders, until they came to a little
 
 30 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 draft, where now a mountain torrent gushed out 
 from under a hemlock canopy. Lowering their 
 heads they wended their way up the mountain, 
 their feet displacing and rolling downward the 
 smooth stones in the bed of the stream. They 
 stopped many times to catch their breaths, or 
 to pick a twig off some deciduous tree, but they 
 were on the bare, bleak, open summit in time 
 to greet the afternoon sun before it reached the 
 level of the Knobs, the highest of the western 
 peaks. In the clear afternoon light they had 
 an admirable opportunity to look about them. 
 There were mountain peaks, mostly bare, cold 
 and grey on every side, but in the sides of all 
 of them were furrows or hollows heavily tim- 
 bered, mostly with hemlocks running almost to 
 the summits. These looked like avenues of 
 escape. Doubtless one of these would lead into 
 some sequestered valley or plateau where they 
 might follow out their destiny for a while. 
 
 The young elks made a handsome pair. The 
 young bull was unusually large for his age, he 
 had a proud head and eye, there was an almost 
 Boman curve to brow and nostrils. His winter 
 coat was almost an olive or drab. The young
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 3! 
 
 cow had a fine expression, the eyes were larger 
 than ever through that perception which only 
 suffering gives. Her lines were symmetrical, 
 she was short coupled, almost like a western 
 elk. Her color was somewhat lighter than her 
 mate. The two hunted beasts gazed at the limit- 
 less expanse for a while, and then at a common 
 impulse, started down one of the worn water- 
 courses with moss-covered banks that seemed 
 like a path, and which led into the big timber 
 below. 
 
 At nightfall, they found themselves in a soggy 
 upland bog, caused by many windfalls damming 
 up the brook, which flowed down through the 
 draft. It was probably a thousand feet above 
 the valley, which was little wider than the 
 Moshannon and the West Branch of the Sus- 
 quehanna, which had their confluence in it. It 
 was a good place to tarry, because it was so 
 hard to get to; few outside foes would ever in- 
 vade its solitude. Stretching from it were flats 
 or "benches," where a little grass was apt to 
 grow, and where beeches, birches, and maples 
 were abundant. But the prevailing forest was 
 hemlock. Here the young elks spent many
 
 32 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 happy days. Gradually a sense of security re- 
 turned. The weather became warm, and though 
 it was but Springtime, the flow of the mountain 
 torrent diminished. There was plenty to eat, 
 and still enough dampness left to sink into up 
 to the fetlocks, so the elks were contented to 
 remain into the Summer. Fresh antlers were 
 coming on the head of the young stag. This 
 time two points appeared on each horn, and the 
 circumference of the horns was greater; they 
 gave their wearer a bolder appearance. And he 
 carried himself as befitted his added dignity. 
 Through July and August, the weather be- 
 came intolerably hot. The elks climbed to the 
 topmost peaks at night to get the breezes, which 
 were always there. They were alarmed at times 
 to notice great clouds like mist, rising from the 
 drafts ; these had a peculiar smell for they were 
 smoke. There were, too, red tongues of light, 
 the color of the sunset forest fires. One night, 
 especially hot, was spent on a rocky point, where 
 their rest was marred by smoke rising from a 
 hollow behind them. They remained as long 
 as they could, and then started downwards to- 
 wards their hidden vale. They had only gone
 
 IN THE FOREST
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 33 
 
 a few hundred yards when fresh smoke began 
 coming towards them. ' They looked back, it was 
 also trailing after them. In front it was not so 
 dense, so they plowed ahead. Several hundred 
 yards more, and the atmosphere became thick 
 with smoke on all sides. They looked back, a 
 tongue of flame running among the ferns was 
 coming on after them. They struck a trot, they 
 surely would escape it if they ambled faster, 
 faster. Their speed only brought them to a point 
 where they encountered a long garland of flame, 
 like an incoming tide on a beach, advancing to 
 meet them. The smoke was terrific. But they 
 plunged into it. There was nothing else to do. 
 The smoke became thicker and blacker. Neither 
 one could see the other. But it could not be 
 always like this. The young bull plunged ahead. 
 He heard a crackling. Was it his mate or the 
 flames? He strained his big, prominent eyes to 
 see. A great gulf of yellow fire blazed up out 
 of the forest depths, revealing the tottering and 
 confused form of his beautiful mate. He could 
 not succor her. He was half stupefied himself. 
 He saw her fall into the flames he loped for- 
 ward, he kept going somehow, he did not know
 
 34 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 what he was doing he found himself at the 
 river bank. It was cool there there was no fire 
 on the opposite shore. 
 
 Dazed he stood in the water for many hours; 
 then he resumed his trot to somewhere. He 
 must have travelled for several days, and rested 
 very little at nights. Sometimes he came dan- 
 gerously near to cleared lands, he heard dogs 
 barking, and sounds like men's voices. His 
 equipoise was returning. He browsed, he drank, 
 he slept calmly. He was resting quietly one 
 afternoon when he felt a blow at his side; he 
 wheeled about, a deer, a buck, had struck him 
 with his antlers, on which hung traces of the 
 velvet. Striking at him with his short but stout 
 horns, the elk tore a gash in his foe's shoulder. 
 Then the deer took to heels with the excited elk 
 after him. 
 
 They raced over mountains, through lumber- 
 men's slashings, past a logging camp, where a 
 woman sat on a bench peeling potatoes for sup- 
 per, into virgin forest again, out into a vast open 
 field at the far edge of which was a log-cabin 
 with blue smoke curling out of the big stone 
 chimney. It was a dangerous place to pursue
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 35 
 
 an animosity, but both animals plunged on. They 
 were too excited to hear a woman's voice shout- 
 ing, "Look at the deer, John, look at the deer"; 
 too wilted to see a sturdily built backwoodsman, 
 with a black chinbeard, leave his woodpile and 
 run to the cabin for his gun. The deer with the 
 angry wapiti at his heels had almost reached the 
 timber line on the southern border of the big 
 clearing, when a loud report rang out on the 
 calm September air. The deer disappeared into 
 the dogwood thicket, and escaped, but the elk 
 turned a complete somersault, and fell over into 
 the stubble stone dead. The last of his race in 
 Pennsylvania. Now the story must sound like 
 every other hunting narrative. 
 
 "That's no deer," said John Decker, the in- 
 trepid hunter of Decker valley ,as he stood be- 
 side the bleeding, steaming carcass. "Yet it's 
 just twenty years since the last elk hereabouts 
 was killed across the mountains in Treaster Val- 
 ley." Then he began skinning the dead animal. 
 "It must have been chased in here by those big 
 forest fires in Clearfield County and the Black 
 Forest. There are no other places in the state 
 where the 'Pennsylvania stag' hangs on."
 
 36 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 At sundown the hide was nailed on the barn- 
 door to cure, the carcass had been cut up and 
 was in the cellar, the skull and horns hung on 
 the woodhouse, among divers other heads of 
 deer. And night closed in, and a lonely cricket 
 started to chirp somewhere near the garden gate. 
 A red light gleamed from the cabin window. A 
 wolf on the knob to the south saw it, and his 
 keen scent told him of the recent carnage; be- 
 coming envious of the cozy glow and the feed, he 
 set up a melancholy howl. The hunter's dog 
 "Rover," part wolf himself, answered, and it 
 was almost midnight when their duet ceased. 
 Then commenced a tap, tap, tap, the night-wind 
 blowing the skull of the dead wapiti against the 
 woodshed, or was it the tramp, tramp, tramp of 
 the soul of the last elk bound for that bourne 
 where all is life, and there is no chase. 
 
 Seven and thirty years have passed since that 
 clear September afternoon when John Decker 
 nailed the elk's skull to his woodshed in the re- 
 mote little valley bearing his name. Terrible 
 winters have come and gone, and the blackened 
 bones and faded horns have been decked out with 
 snow, and ice, and frost. Spring, Summer and
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 87 
 
 Autumn have shed their radiance on the melan- 
 choly relics but the black sockets of the eyes, 
 bespeak not even a questioning. But at night, 
 Winter or Summer, there comes a mysterious 
 night-wind to the place, and a soft tap, tap, tap 
 sways the mouldering skull nailed there against 
 the shed. Is it the soul of the last elk still 
 traveling to the unknown country, where he will 
 find his race unsullied, his beautiful mate to 
 greet him. Or is it the spirit of the wilderness, 
 blotted out by man never to return, while our 
 race lives, whispering of better and freer days, 
 of vast distances and open places, of beauty, 
 justice, and truth, which were banished with 
 that last elk? Only those who lived in Pennsyl- 
 vania in such days can answer, and their ranks 
 are growing thin they are following the last 
 elk to the land of light where there is no chase. 
 And old John Decker, his chinbeard now snow 
 white, looking proudly at his crumbling trophy, 
 in the afternon light says, "It was just about 
 this time of day when I saw him in the stubble- 
 field over yonder. It seems only yesterday. 
 I brought him down with one shot. ' ' And as we 
 drive away, we almost feel as if we were living
 
 88 
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 in those grand days, and in our mind's eye, we 
 can see the actors in the pageant of the times, 
 Indians, elks, panthers, wolves, settlers, all going 
 over the unseen mountains.
 
 II. 
 
 WHY THE SENEGAS WOULD NOT EAT 
 TROUT. 
 
 (A Story of the Coudersport Pike.) 
 
 HE Indians had finished setting 
 potatoes on the Fenstermacker 
 place and had gathered at the 
 old farmhouse for supper. It 
 was a cold, bleak day, although 
 past the middle part of May. Very few blos- 
 soms were out, as the season on the mountain top 
 was said to be two weeks behind that in the val- 
 leys. The farm occupied a bare space hewed out 
 of the ancient forest on a high plateau, with the 
 higher mountains of the Black Forest surround- 
 ing it on all sides. Several trout-fishermen from 
 Williamsport were spending the night at the 
 farmhouse, and the good wife had kindly con- 
 sented to cook a ' ' mess ' ' of their fish for supper. 
 They were small, puny trout to be sure, but the 
 city fishermen could not have been prouder of 
 them had they all been over a foot in length. 
 
 39
 
 40 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 "It looks like harvest time," remarked old 
 Daddy Fenstermaker, as he stared about at the 
 dozen faces assembled at the long table, when he 
 had finished saying ' ' Grace. ' ' 
 
 The six Indians were a stolid, unimaginative 
 looking crew, dregs of the proud race of the 
 Senecas, once the rulers of Northern Pennsyl- 
 vania. They presented an unkempt contrast to 
 the short-haired sportsmen with their cropped 
 mustaches, their spectacles and tweed suits, and 
 even to old man Fenstermaker himself. For the 
 sake of politeness the fishermen passed the big 
 dish containing the trout to the Indians, but they 
 declined the fish, one after another. The fish- 
 ermen thought at first that it was because the 
 Indians feared to deprive them of some of the 
 results of their outing, and urged them to take 
 some, and one went so far as to remark jokingly 
 that Indians doubtless preferred bigger trout. 
 
 The situation required some explanation, so 
 Daddy Fenstermaker spoke up and said that 
 members of the Seneca tribe never ate trout. 
 ' ' I don 't know why it is, ' ' he continued, ' ' but no 
 Indian who ever worked for me would touch a
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 41 
 
 trout ; perhaps some one here can tell the gentle- 
 men the reason?" 
 
 There was a moment's silence and then Billy 
 Shongo, the brightest looking of the Indians ven- 
 tured to say that his people were a queer lot, 
 that if he was doing the right thing, he could 
 not be even engaged in farm work. ' ' One of our 
 wise men, in advising us to keep out of farming 
 put it in this way, 'You ask me to plow the 
 ground ! Shall I take a knife and tear my moth- 
 er 's bosom? Then when I die she will not take 
 me to her bosom to rest. You ask me to grub 
 out stones ! Shall I dig under her skin for bones ? 
 Then when I die I cannot enter her body to be 
 born again. You ask me to cut grass and make 
 hay and sell it, and be rich like white men ! But 
 how dare I cut off my mother's hair?' ' 
 
 "That reminds me of Chief Red Jacket's in- 
 dignant reply to the request that he sell land, 
 ' Why not sell the sea, the air and the sky ' ' ' said 
 one of the fishermen. 
 
 "We have violated all this and more, but very 
 few of us have eaten any trout," Shongo con- 
 tinued impressively.
 
 42 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 All of us including the fishermen urged the 
 Seneca to tell us why his tribe would not eat 
 trout. To us they seemed to be the sweetest and 
 cleanest of all fish. "All right, I'll tell you, but 
 please excuse me if I detain you too long. ' ' 
 
 "Go on, go on," said almost everybody, so 
 Shongo commenced his story. 
 
 "It was long, long ago, when this world was 
 new, and the Senecas were the chosen people of 
 the Great Spirit. In those days the Indians 
 lived along the banks of the big rivers such as 
 the Allegheny, the Genesee, and the Susquehan- 
 na. There were broad flats on both sides of the 
 banks where they raised corn, sweet potatoes, 
 muskmelons, and where their orchards were lo- 
 cated. Some Indians owned orchards which cov- 
 ered over a thousand acres, all planted with the 
 best apple, peach, and plum trees. In those 
 days, the Indians gave all their attention to 
 farming, and gave little time to hunting. They 
 sometimes shot water birds, which flew along the 
 rivers, or sieved with their bark nets, the fine 
 shad, salmon, and other river fish. They never 
 visited the mountain streams which were said to 
 be alive with serpents, allies of the evil One.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 43 
 
 "But farming brought them into evil ways. 
 The democracy of the hunting camps could not 
 exist among them. Some became very rich and 
 powerful, and the sons and daughters of these 
 were proud, arrogant and cruel. As they rose 
 in the social scale they forced their less fortu- 
 nate fellow beings who did the real work into 
 a state bordering on slavery. The wealthy ones 
 thought only of pleasure. They desired no off- 
 spring. They invented queer dances, copied 
 from the antics of the beasts and birds of the 
 woods, and at these they indulged themselves all 
 night long, and slept by day. All kinds of vice 
 and crime thrived among these idlers. The only 
 religious rites they cared for were those where 
 human sacrifices were made, and they gloated, 
 and laughed and sang lewd songs while the vic- 
 tims were being tortured horribly. They would 
 not speak to the Indians of the coarser sort, and 
 boasted loudly about 'divine right,' a 'ruling 
 class' and the like. 
 
 "Among themselves they were not one whit 
 less mean. They robbed and plundered one an- 
 other when they could, they were jealous and 
 envious to the last degree. But their immorali-
 
 44 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ties were the worst part of them. First of all 
 whenever they saw a beautiful young girl in the 
 home of one of their slaves, they stole her away, 
 toyed with her a while, and when they saw a 
 prettier or fresher one, they had the predecessor 
 put to death by slow torture. Some wicked In- 
 dians of the lower classes sold their daughters 
 as playthings for the rich. Then they got to 
 stealing one-another 's wives. In some of their 
 orgies, when steeped with a corn liquor which 
 they distilled, they exchanged wives. Love was 
 reduced to commercialism and lust, and all the 
 higher, finer impulses, such as the Great Spirit 
 willed the Senecas to possess were dead. 
 
 "All this was about two thousand years ago 
 or more. I am glad to was so long ago, that we 
 can almost imagine that it was a myth. "We say 
 to our young people that such doings were exag- 
 gerated, but in our hearts we know that it was 
 all only too true. From his home among the 
 clouds, above the tallest mountains, the Great 
 Spirit viewed the state of affairs with growing 
 concern. He loved the Senecas above all of his 
 other creations, and it grieved him to see their 
 degeneracy. He breathed his soul deeply into
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 45 
 
 some wise men and sent them among the rich 
 as teachers. But when they had been laughed 
 to scorn, the Master Mind realized that he must 
 adopt more drastic measures. 
 
 "The rich people were so imbued with their 
 own importance that they must be shocked into 
 a sense of right. He sent horrible new diseases 
 among them, cutting down the powerful, the 
 young, and beautiful. The dancing groves be- 
 came burial places. There were so many dead to 
 lay away. But with the nearness of the death 
 the Indians resolved to 'have a good time while 
 life lasted' and plunged deeper into foul lasciv- 
 iousness. They did not mind death if they could 
 extract the last ounce of pleasure from life while 
 it lasted. The Great Spirit delayed his ven- 
 geance. His divine pressure produced such 
 slight results that he began to doubt his omnipo- 
 tence. But as matters were steadily growing 
 worse, he launched his final thunderbolt. The 
 idle rich had planned a great outdoor dance car- 
 nival. Like beasts they were to dance all the 
 new steps scantily clad, and then feast and 
 drink until they fell to the earth from the ex- 
 cess of pleasure.
 
 46 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ' ' A level plain, Shaded by tall, hardwood trees 
 was selected as the place for the orgy. Once it 
 had been a pasture ground for buffaloes and 
 elks, but the animals had moved into other lo- 
 calities and it had become overgrown with trees 
 and brush. The undergrowth was cut away, so 
 that the vast area presented a park-like appear- 
 ance. On the edges of this park, where the old 
 forest was dense, hearths and pits were con- 
 structed to roast the whole carcasses of animals, 
 such as moose, elks, and buffaloes. Many new 
 dance steps were invented for the occasion, and 
 the entertainment began with human sacrifices. 
 Fifty beautiful young girls of the pooier class 
 were tortured to death to arouse the jaded in- 
 stincts of the pleasure-seekers. 
 
 ''Then the dancing began, it was to last until 
 hunger overcame the revellers, then they were 
 to gorge themselves into insensibility with the 
 elaborate repast provided. The Great Spirit 
 viewed these arrangements with disgust, and 
 made ready for his retribution. The ungrateful 
 beings had perverted his lofty purpose in plac- 
 ing them in the world, they had made his image 
 a silly mockery. The sun was shining brightly
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 47 
 
 when the exercises commenced, and the groans 
 of the dying girls drowned out a breeze which 
 had sprung up among the feathery tops of the 
 tall hardwoods. 
 
 "Just as the Indian players struck up the 
 first weird notes of the dance music the clouds 
 darkened, and there were several deafening peals 
 of thunder. Some few of the more delicately 
 nurtured were for dropping out of the dances, 
 and running to the more sheltered woods or 
 caves, but the leaders of the entertainment who 
 believed in pleasure at any cost shouted ' on with 
 the dance, it will be a new sensation to dance 
 with the water dripping down our backs.' So 
 the dance proceeded, many reasoning out that 
 the thunder and lightning only portended a pass- 
 ing shower. But when the rain fell, the Heavens 
 literally opened, and soon the level plain was 
 indented with water courses. The amazed danc- 
 ers strove to keep their feet, but the heavy down- 
 pour literally laid them low. They sprawled 
 all over on the muddy earth, and some tried to 
 roll to places of safety. Many fell into the wa- 
 ter courses and were swept away in the brown, 
 grimy torrents.
 
 48 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ''Those who rolled over the ground experi- 
 enced a peculiar sensation. They felt slimy like 
 fish, their hands and feet congealed to the shape 
 of fins, great gaping gills appeared in the cor- 
 ners of their throats. They felt themselves di- 
 minishing in size. As they struck the water, 
 they felt the horrible obsession that they were 
 fish. Struggle they could not, was it all a dream, 
 produced by superabundant pleasure, or had 
 they been seized with another new disease? If 
 so, their lofty position in the world's social scale 
 would soon lessen it for them ; they believed that 
 they never suffered as acutely as the plainer sort. 
 But on this occasion they ceased to be the petted 
 darlings of infinity; they were fish, and for all 
 time. The rain or whatever it was continued un- 
 til the last member of the wealthy class had been 
 washed into the new-formed streams and trans- 
 formed into fish. 
 
 ' ' Then the sky suddenly became light, and the 
 muddy water-courses transparent mountain 
 brooks. In these brooks swam myriads of hand- 
 some, speckled fish. The spots, we were told, 
 corresponded with the number of sins committed 
 by the creatures while in human form. We were
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 49 
 
 ordered never to eat a spotted fish, as it would 
 mean accepting another's sins. The spotted fish 
 soon accustomed themselves to their new environ- 
 ment, and began recognizing old friends. Life 
 might have been quite pleasant in the cool, 
 shaded brooks, only they found that when they 
 attempted to speak water ran into their throats 
 enough to choke them. Those who uttered a 
 single word perished miserably, and came to the 
 surface, and floated with white-stomachs up- 
 wards. They polluted the habitations of the 
 survivors, so few attempted to open their mouths 
 except to breathe and take in nourishment. 
 
 "No sooner had they begun to adjust them- 
 selves to this situation when a fresh peril ap- 
 peared. From under logs and stobs which lay 
 in the streams issued an army of hideous, brown 
 serpents, water snakes. They emerged so sud- 
 denly that the frightened trout had not time to 
 turn around. Great numbers were partially 
 swallowed, horribly bitten, and disgorged by the 
 slimy monsters. Others were completely eaten, 
 distending the sides of their devourers. The 
 fish became panic-stricken, and swam hither and 
 thither, some even throwing themselves on the
 
 50 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 banks, where they could not get their breaths, 
 dying there and becoming food for small ani- 
 mals, flies and bugs. 
 
 ''The most sagacious fish managed to exist 
 somehow. But they knew no peace, by day or 
 night. They were ever on the alert to escape 
 the rapacious water-snakes. Even their spawn 
 or young were devoured by the millions. A fresh 
 enemy, though on a smaller scale, green frogs, 
 assailed them in quarters where the snakes sel- 
 dom visited. These creatures were particularly 
 destructive of the fry or small fish, as well as 
 of the spawn. Despite their lowly position the 
 erstwhile pleasure-seekers now felt a desire to 
 carry on their race; their normal instincts re- 
 turned with their metamorphosis. Formerly 
 they had ben evolved to a point too high for 
 their own good; a check was needed. Perhaps 
 their punishment was only temporary, but as 
 time wore on there was no sign that there would 
 be a change. And worst of all, not a single 
 trout died a natural death. As they grew older 
 and weaker, they were devoured by the water 
 snakes, or even by frogs, lizards or eels, passing 
 away mutilated and miserably.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 61 
 
 "But they found that they had a guardian 
 angel, the Great Blue Heron. This bird was the 
 sworn enemy of the water snakes and frogs, it 
 hunted them with the same avidity as the snakes 
 pursued the fish. And many a six foot snake 
 slid down the long throats of the herons. And 
 as new generations of fish were born they came 
 to regard the herons as their divinities. But all 
 the same, the old, weak, fish were regularly eaten 
 by the serpents, as there were never enough 
 herons to diminish the number of snakes appre- 
 ciably. It was a horrible destiny, but it was 
 warranted by the hideous lives which the spot- 
 ted fish had lived while in human form. But a 
 still more horrible fate was in store. 
 
 "A few Indians had escaped from the dread- 
 ful flood. They were mostly of the baser sort, 
 who had shunned agriculture, and lived by the 
 chase, and on berries and roots, in the deep for- 
 ests. These were joined by a few survivors of 
 the dance orgy, who were near to the edges of 
 the big timber when the storm broke, and who 
 rushed pell-mell into the forest depths, escaping 
 being swept into the streams. These had a chance 
 to note what had happened, and informed the
 
 52 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 other Indians whom they later met, who dwelt 
 in the inmost recesses of the forests. And that 
 was why when they assembled at the banks of 
 the streams, which were swimming full of speck- 
 led trout, they refrained from catching or eat- 
 ing them. Their wise men told them that they 
 would become responsible for the sins of the 
 fishes ' ancestors of they touched them. And they 
 accepted it as fact. 
 
 "For centuries the Senecas never tasted 
 trout, and the streams in Northern Pennsylvania 
 fairly teemed with them. They were polluted, 
 tainted food, while the spots or sins showed out 
 on them. But the redmen loved the clean, pure 
 river fish, and were experts in netting and snar- 
 ing them. Also they kept their hands off farm- 
 ing, it had been the cause of the terrible down- 
 fall of the others. But all was different when 
 the white men came. They did not stop to in- 
 quire if the Indians ate trout or not. They 
 started to catch the 'speckled beauties' with 
 their hands, then with hooks and nets, and when 
 they could not get them fast enough these ways, 
 they placed dynamite in the creeks. The fish, 
 who knew the story of their unhappy origin, it
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 63 
 
 was somehow handed down to each new genera- 
 tion, shrank with horror from being hooked and 
 seined by white beings, in form though not in 
 color, as they themselves had been. And they 
 even had to gaze upon the destruction of their 
 divinities, the herons. 
 
 ' ' The misguided fishermen attacked the heron- 
 ries, calling the por birds 'enemies of the fish,' 
 and slaughtered them without quarter. The 
 water snakes increased in numbers, likewise the 
 frogs; it became harder for the trout to exist. 
 Lumber mills, which dumped unwholesome saw- 
 dust into the streams, sprang up on all sides, 
 and later on, tanneries and acid factories poured 
 rank poisons into every water course. It seemed 
 as if the final fate of the cursed trout was to be 
 their worst. The poisons produced loathsome 
 sores and corruptions on their spotted sides, they 
 actually rotted to death. 
 
 "But the fish laws made still more suffering 
 for them. When trout less than six inches in 
 length were caught, the law compelled the white 
 sportsmen to throw them back into the water. 
 But the touch of human fingers was an added 
 curse. It produced on every small fish, thus
 
 54 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 given his freedom, cancers and foul sores worse 
 than the poisons had created. The fish sloughed 
 away, dying hideously, or being easily captured 
 by the snakes in their weakened condition. 
 Man's final blight was more than they had ever 
 dreamed could come to them. Now, you know 
 why the Senecas will never eat trout." 
 
 It was pitchy dark in the little dining room 
 when Billy Shongo finished his narrative. The 
 supper things still remained on the table, in 
 front of all of us, and several full cups of coffee 
 were untasted. The good wife and the hired 
 girl sat open-mouted on chairs, too much inter- 
 ested to clear off the table, or to bring in the 
 lamp. The fire in the little wood-stove between 
 the windows had burned down to a grey ash. 
 The room had become uncomfortably cold. But 
 we had heard a tragic story, and were well re- 
 compensed. 
 
 "How strange it is," said one of the prosper- 
 ous looking fishermen, "that we are out here as 
 agents to wreak a further punishment on those 
 fish; why I must have thrown back fifty trout 
 this morning for being undersize. I feel like 
 swearing off trout-fishing."
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 55 
 
 His companions laughed, and then everybody 
 got up and went into the roomy kitchen adjoin- 
 ing where it was warmer. The Indians went out 
 on the porch, and leaned against the wooden up- 
 rights, their instinct seemed to always take them 
 into the open. We could hear a sheep-bell tink- 
 ling in the nearby barnyard. Down in the 
 swamp, the "peepers" were chorusing shrilly. 
 We listened to them awhile. 
 
 Then Billy Shongo spoke again. "Even those 
 little creatures eat lots of young trout at cer- 
 tain seasons of the year. I don't see how the 
 fish can survive with so many enemies. Man, 
 instead of protecting them, is making it harder 
 for them to exist every year. But I'm thankful 
 that the herons are to be protected again. It is 
 silly to kill them and let water snakes live. But 
 then we can never understand the white man's 
 ways. ' '
 
 III. 
 
 YOUNG WOMAN'S CREEK. 
 (The Story of a Mountain Stream.) 
 
 ISTORY differs as to the origin 
 of the name of Young "Wo- 
 man's Creek which rises in the 
 Black Forest, emptying into 
 the West Branch of the Sus- 
 quehanna, several miles below Renovo. The his- 
 torical versions are contradictory, and not well 
 authenticated, whereas there is a legendary story 
 which has every mark of truth. 
 
 It was related by an aged Swedenborgian 
 named Billy Patterson, who was one of the pio- 
 neers of a strange colony of that sect which 
 established itself over forty years ago on the 
 mountain summits near the headwaters of 
 Young Woman's Creek. Most of the colony has 
 been dispersed by death or dearth of occupation, 
 but to this day a few linger on, faithful to the 
 lofty motives which drew them to the remote 
 spot. Old Thomas Simcox, pioneer riverman and 
 56
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 57 
 
 hunter accompanied the writer on several visits 
 to this colony, some years ago. He had done 
 some prospecting for fire clay near there a season 
 or two previously, boarding with one of the Swe- 
 denborgian families. 
 
 On the night of our first visit we found that 
 the main house was full of people but we were in- 
 vited to stay at a shack, or log cabin, the original 
 home of the family, which stood in the corner of 
 the lot. Billy Patterson, oldest member of the 
 colony, was lodging there. "We found him sitting 
 outside the door, reading a New Church book in 
 the waning light of the evening. He was an in- 
 telligent looking old man, past seventy, with fine 
 features, a clear, light blue eye, and a white 
 beard worn very full, which hung below his 
 waist. We spoke about the stream whose course 
 we had followed to the settlement, and its pecu- 
 liar name. 
 
 "Did you ever hear how it got that name?" 
 said the old man, with a twinkle in his keen 
 eyes. 
 
 We recited briefly to him the well-known ver- 
 sions, but he shook his head at each and said 
 that they were not correct, that an old Indian
 
 68 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 named Jack Berry had told him the story the 
 first year that he had moved on the mountain, 
 which was about 1868. Berry was so old at the 
 time that he could remember a number of his 
 torical characters very well, including Mary 
 Jemison, the White Woman of the Genesee; in 
 fact, she had mentioned him in her very remark- 
 able "Narrative." Berry had said that his 
 father was Hi-Berry, a chief for whom Berry's 
 Mountain in Dauphin County was named. His 
 story of Young Woman's Creek dated back to 
 1780, at a time when the history of the upper 
 reaches of the West Branch are wrapped in haze. 
 The Indians were still numerous and belligerent, 
 and the few white settlers had to maintain an 
 eternal vigilance. 
 
 One of the hardiest of pioneers was Mordecai 
 Wolford, of Quaker parentage, originally from 
 Buffalo Valley, who located on some arable land 
 near the headwaters of Beech Creek. With his 
 family in 1776 he had traveled overland from his 
 old home in what is now Union County, follow- 
 ing the West Branch to the present site of Lock 
 Haven, and from thence along the Bald Eagle 
 Creek to the "Nest" of the celebrated chieftain
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 69 
 
 Bald Eagle, which was on the right bank of the 
 stream near the present town of Milesburg. 
 
 That part of the country was populous until 
 the "Great Runaway" of 1778. Already large 
 farms were pre-empted, and the powerful land- 
 grabbers from Philadelphia had laid claim to 
 what was left. Wolford was of an independent 
 turn of mind, he would buy land from no white 
 man. He would purchase or conquer it from 
 the rightful owners, the Indians, or not at all. 
 Consequently, he had to go to the table-land 
 where Beech Creek heads before he could settle 
 unmolested. He found an Indian clearing with 
 a few choice apple trees, and a good spring, and 
 aided by his growing sons was not long in put- 
 ting up a serviceable log-cabin. When complet- 
 ed, the structure resembled more a fort than a 
 dwelling, but that was natural as he had 
 modelled it after Samuel Horn's farm on Curts' 
 Run, in what is now Clinton County, which he 
 had seen as he "trekked" up the Susquehanna 
 Valley. He had reason to believe that the In- 
 dians were friendly to him, although his beau- 
 tiful daughter, Mary, had the misfortune to have 
 once aroused the affections of the mighty Bald
 
 60 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Eagle, and her indifference had angered the 
 chieftain. 
 
 In his heart Mordecai Wolford had no love for 
 the redskins, so he could not conscientiously 
 chide his daughter for her attitude. But he 
 trusted that the larger events in life would make 
 the warrior forget his heart-sore. But Quaker- 
 like he miscalculated; affairs of the heart are 
 the largest things in life. There is nothing more 
 important, or unforgettable. The Wolfords lo- 
 cated on their farm early in 1778, and in July 
 of that year James Q. Brady, son of Captain 
 John Brady, a young man who had been atten- 
 tive to Mary, and of whom Bald Eagle had been 
 insanely jealous, was killed by Indians near 
 Muncy Town. The slayers were led presumably 
 by the jealous chief himself. The news of the 
 killing did not reach the remote clearing on 
 Beech Creek until exactly two years later, when 
 a band of redmen conveyed it in a rather un- 
 pleasant manner. 
 
 In a year the Wolford family had worked 
 wonders with their plantation. It actually 
 looked ts well as many farms "down country,," 
 with its neat "Indian fences" surely a good
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 61 
 
 living would be made off it. In addition to put- 
 ting out rye and barley, there were other crops 
 and a thriving lot of livestock. Hunting and 
 trapping were good, and in the two winters, the 
 Wolford family captured twenty panthers, two 
 hundred wolves, fifty black bears, two brown 
 bears, and an almost countless number of small- 
 er animals, otters, beavers, wild cats and such, 
 all attracted to the neighborhood by the livestock 
 or crops. Most of these hides were taken in 
 prime condition, and were sold to a Jewish trad- 
 er, from Berks County, who journeyed through 
 Bald Eagle Valley every year. 
 
 Thus it could be seen that the outlook for the 
 future seemed very favorable. The news of the 
 pioneer 's prosperity was sent in some mysterious 
 way to the Indian, Captain David, who had been 
 the original owner of the farm. He had gone off 
 to the wars, abandoning the place, and had op- 
 portunities without number to settle in better 
 localities if he had so chosen. But he preferred 
 a wandering and predatory life until he heard 
 that a squatter was profiting by his early indus- 
 try. Accompanied by three Indian comrades, he 
 started on an expedition from the headwaters
 
 62 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 of the Allegheny to recover his property. On 
 the way they met the mother of Jack Berry, who 
 was then a boy of about twelve years of age and 
 induced the good squaw to let the lad go with 
 them on their warlike jaunt. There is a strong 
 suspicion, from the presence of Whistle-Town 
 with the party, that the real motive was not the 
 recovery of Capt. David's farm. 
 
 Whistle-Town was known never to leave Bald 
 Eagle's side, he was his shadow in fact, unless 
 he went on some punitive expedition for his 
 chief. He did the "dirty work," being willing 
 to stain his hands with murders, which would 
 have blackened the character of Bald Eagle had 
 he been the actual perpetrator of them. The 
 party travelled quickly, being well armed and 
 provisioned. Within a week after starting, they 
 reached Mordecai Wolford's farm, finding the 
 industrious frontiersman in his hay field, taking 
 in a goodly crop. In an adjoining field were two 
 mares with colts, three cows with calves, and 
 twenty-five sheep, all animals which generally 
 would have aroused the cupidity of Indians. The 
 four redmen emerged from the forest, saluting 
 the pioneer and his sons in a friendly manner.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 After a preliminary talk, in which the death 
 of the ' ' Young Cap tain ' ' James Brady was men- 
 tioned, Captain David, who was an Indian of 
 venerable appearance and a veteran of Brad- 
 dock 's campaign, asked Wolf ord if he was aware 
 whose farm he was occupying. The pioneer re- 
 plied that he had found the place deserted, and 
 fast growing up with brush, that he felt that he 
 was the lawful owner because of the improve- 
 ments he had made on it. The old Indian then 
 asked him if he knew the party who had cleared 
 the land originally. 
 
 ' ' I have been told, ' ' said Wolford, ' ' that Cap- 
 tain David cleared it." 
 
 ' ' Right you are, ' ' said the Indian, ' ' and I am 
 Captain David. Furthermore, I have decided 
 to return here and live." 
 
 Wolford looked around him, neither he nor 
 his boys were armed, with a false sense of secur- 
 ity they had left their rifles in the cabin. It was 
 four armed men against one unarmed man and 
 two unarmed boys. A little business talk would 
 be better than a fight. But he did not like the 
 looks of his visitors. The penetrating sunlight
 
 64 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 showed him that one of them who keDt in the 
 background wore a wig and false beard. 
 
 ' ' What will you take for your farm, ' ' said the 
 pioneer, without further parley. 
 
 "What will you give?" answered Capt. David. 
 
 "Twenty pounds, all the money I have got," 
 said Wolford. 
 
 "That's not nearly enough," replied the In- 
 dian, with a sneer in his voice, he was fast losing 
 his politeness. 
 
 ' ' Twenty pounds and those horses and cattle, ' ' 
 said Wolford, "that's giving you good mea- 
 sure. ' ' 
 
 "Give me one hundred pounds, all your stock, 
 guns, ammunition, furniture, clothing, every- 
 thing, then you get the place, and for not a far- 
 thing less," said the Indian. 
 
 "I'm afraid I can't meet your terms, I 
 couldn't make that in my life," answered Wol- 
 ford. 
 
 "Then off the place you go, now," said the 
 Indian, edging up to the white man. 
 
 Just then a rifle shot rang out on the calm, 
 summer air. The Indian with the wig and false 
 beard fell against a haystack, badly wounded.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 65 
 
 Mary Wolford, the pioneer's beautiful daughter, 
 in a moment of hot-headedness had fired from 
 the kitchen door, using her father's weapon. 
 This was the signal for the Indians ' attack. The 
 question of who was to fire first had been settled 
 just as they wanted it. Three shots quickly fired 
 laid Wolford and his two sons low, and they were 
 scalped in the "twinkling of an eye." The In- 
 dians then ran to the cabin, but Mary Wolford, 
 her mother and sister were nowhere to be found. 
 The wily redmen separated, and continued the 
 chase. A quarter of a mile down the creek, Loon 
 Bird found Wolford's wife and little girl, and 
 cut their throats and scalped them. 
 
 It was not until sundown that Mary Wolford 
 was apprehended, and then in a peculiar way. 
 When she fancied that her pursuers were far 
 from the cabin, she doubled on her tracks and 
 returned. She hoped that her mother and sister 
 had escaped as she had heard no more shots, and 
 if she met them she might assist them in their 
 flight. She found no traces of them and made 
 bold to visit the bodies of her father and 
 brothers.
 
 66 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 The masquerading Indian, whom she had shot, 
 noticed her approach and decided to play 'pos- 
 sum, a favorite Indian trick. He stretched out 
 stiff against the haystack, closed his eyes and 
 opened his mouth, feigning death. The bullet 
 which had gone through his neck, had somehow 
 severed no artery, and was not mortal. He knew 
 that he had been wounded worse in other battles 
 and recovered. Mary bit her thin, white lips 
 when she viewed the mutilated corpses of her 
 loved ones, but her clear, limestone-colored eyes 
 betrayed no traces of tears. Her alabaster skin 
 grew whiter than of yore, and she clutched her 
 gunstock nervously. It was the most horrible 
 sight she had ever witnessed, or dreamed of wit- 
 nessing. Death and blood seemed so out of place 
 that calm, summer evening, with the smell of 
 the newly cut grass everywhere, the even-songs 
 of robins still afield. Then she walked back to 
 where her supposed victim lay. She looked at 
 him, fancying that she had made a kill that sin- 
 gle shot. As she leaned over the prostrate form, 
 strangely overcome by the hideous countenance, 
 the crafty savage girded himself together and 
 sprang to his feet, seizing the girl by her light,
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 67 
 
 brown hair. But Mary was a tall, wiry girl, 
 well able to take care of herself. She was near- 
 ly six feet tall, and grappled with the Indian in 
 such a way that for a moment it looked as if she 
 might be the captor and he the captive. In the 
 scuffle she had to let go her rifle, but she also 
 knocked off the Indian 's wig and false beard. 
 
 "Oh, ho, it's you, Whistle-Town, you scoun- 
 drel, I know you, I can see that your chief, Bald 
 Eagle is back of all this," she shouted, as she 
 wound her long arms about the ugly wretch. 
 
 The redskin was resourceful and uttered a 
 piercing war-whoop, which echoed among the 
 pine-covered hills. Then the girl feared all was 
 lost. Within a minute Captain David, Loon 
 Bird, Black Richard and little Jack Berry ap- 
 peared in the field. They had not been far away, 
 as they reasoned that the girl would return to 
 the cabin. They laid heavy hands on her, and 
 bound her arms behind her back with stout 
 cords. Then they put a wooden gag in her 
 mouth, and ordered her to march on ahead of 
 them. 
 
 It was now that she began to feel physical and 
 nervous exhaustion, but it looked as if she would
 
 68 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 have to march all night, as Indians never liked 
 to linger close to the scene of a crime. They 
 feared ghosts, they always said. Her only 
 chance for rest would be if Whistle-Town's 
 wound became painful or started to bleed again. 
 Evidently the savages were prepared for such 
 an emergency for they smeared the wound with 
 wolf-fat from a pouch which Capt. David car- 
 ried, and wrapped it tightly with a piece of dead 
 Mordecai Wolford's shirt. The wounded Indian 
 liked to show his prowess for he stepped out even 
 livelier than the rest. The only laggard was the 
 little Indian boy, Jack Berry, who could hardly 
 stand the long tramp and frequently the older 
 redskins spoke to him sharply and threatened 
 him with death unless he travelled more briskly. 
 There was no moon, hence progress was slow, 
 though the Indians knew the forest trails, and 
 the starlight helped considerably. But the fol- 
 lowing day at noon, the party had reached the 
 shores of the Susquehanna, coming out at the 
 mouth of Baker's Run. There, many signs of an 
 Indian encampment were to be seen. There were 
 tent poles, racks for hanging up game, the ashes 
 of recent fires } bones and skulls of animals. By
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 69 
 
 the water's edge a pirogue was moored. A halt 
 for dinner, the first meal that Mary had taken 
 since the day before at the same time, was made. 
 Loon Bird, who seemed to be at home at the old 
 camp, went to the run, and lifted out of a deep 
 hole several haunches of venison, which he had 
 evidently sunk there several days before. He 
 lit a fire, a surprisingly small one for the size 
 of the pieces of meat to be cooked, and soon be- 
 gan roasting the venison, which gave out a sav- 
 ory odor to the starving captive. When the meal 
 had been prepared, Loon Bird, who seemed to be 
 the gentlest of the savages, removed the gag from 
 the girl's mouth, and led her to a cool spring 
 where he washed her face, and gave her a gourd 
 full of water to drink. The girl felt much re- 
 freshed, and was able to enjoy the feast. In fact, 
 she ate more than the Indians, who had become 
 strangely glum and taciturn. Doubtless, they 
 had begun to realize the enormity of their whole- 
 sale murdering of the day previous, and how if 
 the white men learned of it they would be given 
 up to the authorities while the powerful instiga- 
 tor went free.
 
 70 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 After the dinner, Loon Bird was put on as sen- 
 try while the other Indians slept on the grass. 
 Just at dark, the guard awakened them, and they 
 all went to the river-bank, and got into the pirogue. 
 Evidently, they did not want to be seen crossing 
 the river. Landed safely on the opposite shore, 
 they tied the boat to the projecting root of a red 
 birch, and commenced another march. 
 
 Mary had slept a little during the afternoon, 
 but it had been a difficult task with the crude 
 gag in her mouth. Every time she shut her jaws 
 hard in sleep, she woke with a violent start. But 
 in the main, she was feeling rested, and moved 
 along the trail with ease. They travelled all 
 night through dark forests and in the early 
 morning arrived at the mouth of a large 
 stream, which was to go down to history 
 closely associated with the fair captive, Mary 
 Wolford. By this time Whistle-Town was 
 feeling much improved, though his neck was 
 still kept closely bandaged. After another nap, 
 he started up the river in a canoe, accompanied 
 by Jack Berry. Mary suspected that he was 
 going to inform Bald Eagle of the captive's ap- 
 proach, or to tell him where she was held so that
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 71 
 
 he might visit her. At any rate, she was left 
 in charge of Captain David, Black Richard and 
 Loon Bird, but the last named as her especial 
 keeper. 
 
 The day after Whistle-Town had departed, the 
 three Indians decided to go on a buffalo calf 
 hunt, but they disliked the idea of bundling the 
 girl along with them. Mary could overhear 
 them talking about it. All kinds of plans were 
 devised, but it was finally decided to tie her to 
 a tree until they would return. "She can stand 
 it for a day or two," insisted Captain David. 
 
 Loon Bird nodded his cheery acquiescence, 
 which made Mary feel badly as she had begun 
 to suspect that Indian of more than commonly 
 humane impulses. Black Richard was the last 
 to give in to the idea. "It's death for us all if 
 anything should happen to her while we are 
 away. I don't feel like leaving her," he kept 
 repeating to his comrades. 
 
 But Captain David pointed out that Whistle- 
 Town would probably not be back for a week, 
 and it would be very tiresome doing nothing 
 waiting for his return. Bright and early in the 
 morning, the three nimrods were ready to start.
 
 72 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Their destination, as near as Mary could make 
 out, was to be Nittany Valley, where many buf- 
 falo calves were pasturing. When Loon Bird 
 was tying her to a large gum-tree, he made a 
 sign to her as if he was not fastening tightly, 
 that she could make her escape if she would. 
 She made no motion to him that she understood, 
 lest he was trying to trap her: 
 
 She waited patiently until evening, and then 
 twisted the ropes, finding them loose and easily 
 managed. By this time, the three Indians must 
 have been ten miles away, she thought. Just as 
 she was wrenching herself free, something 
 caused her to look around. To her horror and 
 surprise, Black Richard was not twenty feet 
 from her. It appeared that after the Indians 
 had gone about five miles, this Indian had be- 
 come suspicious of Loon Bird's attitude, and 
 taxed him with having tied Mary so that she 
 might free herself. Loon Bird denied the charge 
 indignantly, but he was seized by his two friends 
 and thrown to the ground and bound hand and 
 foot. Captain David set watch over him while 
 Black Richard retraced his way to ascertain the 
 truth or falsity of the suspicion.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 73 
 
 The charge was only too true, but best of all he 
 had arrived at the very nick of time. When he 
 saw the girl freeing herself he dropped his rifle ; 
 he did not want to shoot, but must capture her 
 alive at any cost. Though her legs were free, 
 she 'could not quite untwist the ropes which 
 bound her pretty, white hands behind her back. 
 Perhaps nervousness prevented a dextrous han- 
 dling of the situation. She started on a run, all 
 the while struggling to unbind her wrists, with 
 the redman in hot pursuit. She was running in 
 the direction of the big creek, there was no 
 bridge or ford, and the water near the conflu- 
 ence with the river was quite deep. 
 
 There had been heavy rains the week before. 
 As she neared the brink she would have screamed 
 woman-like only the cruel gag was still in her 
 mouth. There was no time to lose. Better risk 
 the watery depths than again fall into the hands 
 of the redmen. She might be able to wade across, 
 and once on the other shore she knew that she 
 was a swifter runner than her foe. Bravely she 
 plunged in, and was in mid-stream before the 
 Indian's feet were wet. He saw that he would 
 lose his prize, and he had dropped his rifle back
 
 74 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 in the brush, when he had first come upon her. 
 Picking up a big rock, he hurled it at her, strik- 
 ing her between the shoulder blades. She was 
 up to her hips in the swift water, but the force 
 of the impact made her lose her footing on the 
 slippery rock bottom and she fell over into the 
 current. 
 
 The Indian realizing what he had done, sprang 
 after her, but she was swept away in the gath- 
 ering dusk before he could get to her. He spent 
 the entire night about the mouth of the stream, 
 but the slim, fair body had been carried on into 
 the river. With a gag in her mouth, the poor 
 girl quickly choked with water and she could 
 not attempt to swim with her arms pinioned. 
 
 The next morning, Capt. David, having be- 
 come suspicious owing to his friend's non-ap- 
 pearance, visited the spot where the girl had 
 been left. She was gone, and he soon located 
 Black Richard pottering about at the mouth of 
 the creek. The two Indians were horrified when 
 they realized Loon Bird's duplicity, and hurried 
 back to Rattlesnake Run where they had left 
 him, and cut him to bits with their tomahawks. 
 Then they went up the run, and travelled until
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 76 
 
 they were out of Bald Eagle's jurisdiction in 
 New York State. 
 
 Great was Whistle-Town's horror when he re- 
 turned to ''Young Woman's Creek" to find girl 
 and Indians missing. It is said that Bald Eagle 
 had the faithful Whistle-Town executed, and 
 set a price on the heads of the other Indians, so 
 great was his chagrin at losing his coveted prize, 
 Mary Wolford. But as for her, fair girl, she 
 floated, a corpse with many vicissitudes down 
 the river, drifted, nibbled at by fish and eels, 
 unseen, until at length she was washed ashore 
 at the foot of a grass grown hill near Shamokin 
 Town, now Sunbury. On that hill were many 
 more or less erect brownstone slabs, erected in 
 memory of the dead, for it was the pioneers' 
 graveyard. One of these stones, fresher and 
 stronger than the rest was visited weekly by a 
 very tiny woman with sandy hair, freckles, and 
 bright, blue eyes. It was Mary Q. Brady, who 
 went there to place Summer flowers on the last 
 resting place of her beloved son, James, slain in 
 1778, by the jealous fury of Chief Bald Eagle. 
 One morning, she noticed something long and 
 brown, like an old log, half submerged in the
 
 76 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 water, close to shore. She climbed down the 
 grassy hill, and waded out to where the object 
 lay. She saw something like a very white hand ; 
 she seized it and drew a dead body up on dry 
 land. She laid it on the bank, and sat down 
 beside it and studied the face. All at once the 
 little woman gave a cry, "My God, it's Mary 
 Wolford's corpse is she gone too, well, well, she 
 has come in death to be united to the boy she 
 loved." 
 
 That afternoon the body was buried close to 
 that of the "Young Captain of the Susquehan- 
 na" whom in life she had loved so well. And as 
 for Bald Eagle, after all his plots and murders, 
 where was now his victory!
 
 IV. 
 
 CONQUERING FATE. 
 (A Story of the Panther Caves.) 
 
 E had decided to stop awhile at 
 the Panther Caves, near the 
 mouth of Treaster Valley. It 
 was partly because there was 
 a beautiful greensward along 
 the banks of Treaster Brook, where we could 
 cook dinner and feed the horses, but our prin- 
 cipal reason was to look at and photograph the 
 remarkable cliffs which resembled the homes of 
 the Arizona cave dwellers. As far as is known 
 no human beings ever resided in these rocky 
 caverns, but in the past three-quarters of a cen- 
 tury more than a score of Pennsylvania lions 
 had been slain in and about them. 
 
 We were gazing at their serrated facades 
 when two gaunt mountaineers came walking 
 slowly up the muddy road, their hands wedged 
 in the narrow change pockets in their overalls. 
 Red-haired, sandy mustached, unshaven, they 
 
 77
 
 78 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 presented a unique appearance. When they drew 
 near we spoke to them pleasantly, and they re- 
 plied in their peculiar drawl, and we soon found 
 them intelligent and companionable men. They 
 noted our interest in the cave, and were able to 
 give us much interesting information on the 
 subject. They led us across the mucky lowland 
 where the brook had receded after the Spring 
 rains, and showed us the great, circular tracks 
 of a panther, which headed in the direction of 
 one of the caverns. 
 
 "That critter lives in there now," said one of 
 the mountaineers. ' ' He 's got a lot of nerve with 
 lumber wagons and fishermen passing by every 
 day. It is surprising how the panthers hang 
 on in this valley; there always is one here, I've 
 been followed by them several times, and none 
 have been killed since Clem Herlacher went in 
 the caves and carried off a nest of cubs about 
 twenty years ago." 
 
 But we were principally concerned about an 
 Indian legend which had reached its dramatic 
 climax at the main opening of the caverns, from 
 which a stream issues in the spring of the year 
 and after particularly heavy rains. This water
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 79 
 
 empties into Treaster Brook. Some years before, 
 in the Black Forest, we had been shown the re- 
 mains of an Indian clearing, in the centre of a 
 virgin hemlock forest, not far from the head- 
 waters of the main branch of Slate Run. 
 
 Old "Pappy" Gast, who spent much time 
 wandering among the hills and dales of the 
 Black Forest had called our attention to it, and 
 related the legend which accompanied every 
 spot where Indians had been. The old Indian 
 couple who had lived there up to about the mid- 
 dle of the 19th century were "Southerners," 
 that is they had moved there from some of the 
 more southerly Pennsylvania counties; in this 
 case they were from Treaster Valley, in Mifflin 
 County. Yet the native stock of Indians had 
 mostly vanished from that region before they 
 were born, so tradition had it there that they 
 came from the north. It was almost necessary 
 to visit both sections to obtain the entire story, 
 so that when we halted our team by the Panther 
 Caves, and noted the "lay of the land" as it 
 were, the entire narrative pieced itself together 
 very naturally.
 
 80 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 In the days before the lumbermen had pene- 
 trated the Black Forest, but after the native 
 Indians had been collected at the Reservation 
 in the vicinity of Cornplant's Island on the Al- 
 legheny, an aged pair of redskins appeared mys- 
 teriously on Slate Run, and started to build a 
 shanty. The ownership of this land was in the 
 same chaotic state which had enabled the vision- 
 ary John F. Cowan to sell tracts he did not own 
 to the celebrated Ole Bull, so there was no one to 
 order the newcomers away. They selected a 
 spot off all the known paths, and seemed particu- 
 larly anxious not to meet any of their own peo- 
 ple. 
 
 At thai time numbers of "Reservation" In- 
 dians ranged over the Black Forest, hunting and 
 trapping, and a few of them worked at lumber- 
 ing and rafting along Pine Creek and the Sus- 
 quehanna. Among them were Tallchief and 
 his son, the Jimmersons, the Shongos, Half- 
 Town, Little Beard, Jack Berry, Old Nicholas, 
 and a host of others. Most of these belonged to 
 the Seneca tribe, or to the tribes which had con- 
 stituted the "Smooct" or Six Nations. Smooct 
 was a familiar abbreviation of Seneca, Mohawk,
 
 I 

 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 81 
 
 Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga and Tuscarora, who 
 constituted this once powerful Indian confedera- 
 tion. 
 
 The aged Indian couple from the south went 
 by the names of Honest George and Old Susie, 
 very serviceable names in any locality where 
 their exact characteristics were unknown. They 
 said that they were of the Shawnee tribe, having 
 been born at Shawnee Cabins, a noted Indian 
 settlement not far from the present town of 
 Schellsburg in Bedford County, that after mar- 
 rying they had migrated to Treaster Valley. 
 But they were silent as to why at their advanced 
 time of life, they had moved into the colder and 
 more isolated Black Forest. Their desire to be 
 away from the local Indians was easily ex- 
 plained by their difference in tribal affiliations. 
 But with George Gast, afterwards called affec- 
 tionately "Pappy," they were on greater terms 
 of intimacy. To him they confided their true 
 history, with the injunction that he never reveal 
 it to a soul until after they were dead. It seems 
 that most human beings must have a confidante 
 for secrets, and Indians were no exception to 
 this.
 
 82 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 In the old days when the Senecas were su- 
 preme they indulged in many beautiful and im- 
 pressive religious exercises or canticos, in fact 
 their religion has been called the most highly 
 colored in the world. No wonder that Red 
 Jacket called Christianity dull. Among their 
 religious fetes was an annual sacrifice to the 
 "Water Spirit, which took place in the early au- 
 tumn at the historic Falls of the Genesee. The 
 most beautiful maiden was selected, and though 
 death was the price paid, there was a continual 
 scheming and wire pulling to secure the coveted 
 honor. The wise men made the selection, and all 
 kinds of pressure was brought to bear on them. 
 But usually the most beautiful maiden was 
 chosen, to the great lamentations of the rejected, 
 their friends and relatives. The chosen sacrifice 
 was sent over the falls in an exquisitely fash- 
 ioned white birch canoe, decked with autumn 
 leaves, fruits and flowers. 
 
 It was said that on many occasions lovers of 
 the victims begged to be allowed to accompany 
 them on the death errand, and when their wish 
 was refused, hurled themselves over the preci- 
 pice, and the two bodies would be washed on
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 83 
 
 shore miles below, simultaneously. A lover, dy- 
 ing for this lofty principle, was considered 
 greatly blessed. 
 
 In those remote days Honest George was none 
 other than Wischalow, or The Frightener, a noted 
 Seneca brave, while Old Susie's name was Ehel- 
 ilda or Flowing Spring, one of the fairest of In- 
 dian niaids. She was the daughter of a power- 
 ful warrior named Curvencheck, or Pine Wood, 
 famed for his physical strength and sagacity. 
 From the time she was a small child, by common 
 consent, it was allowed that when she reached 
 the age of sixteen she would be chosen for the 
 supreme honor of giving up her life to the 
 Water Spirit. She admitted to her relatives and 
 friends that she was destined for this great 
 privilege, and as a result she led a retired and 
 sheltered life, filled with prayers of thanksgiving 
 to the Great Spirit who had given her the gift 
 of grace and beauty worthy of the selection. 
 
 But even in the Indian days there were some 
 few jealous persons, girls who declared that 
 they were just as fair as Ehelilda, that the wise 
 men should not be prejudiced by all this talk 
 about one being so pre-eminently fitted for the
 
 84 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 honor. But such talk came to naught when folks 
 saw Ehelilda. Women were highly regarded by 
 the Senecas, in this they were much like the old 
 Greeks ; female cleverness and beauty is not more 
 esteemed by the white races today. 
 
 As time went by the opposition grew less, and 
 as the fair maiden's sixteenth birthday ap- 
 proached, no word was heard except favorable 
 to her beauty and fitness. Her birthday was 
 properly celebrated, her illustrious father giving 
 a garden party for her, which was attended by 
 all the noble youths and maidens who resided 
 the entire length of the Genesee River. 
 
 Among those present was young Wischalow, 
 two years older than Ehelilda; his home was 
 near the source of the Genesee, and it was a case 
 of love at first sight with both. During the 
 lovely moonlit evening, while the Indian musi- 
 cians played weird tunes with drums, flageolets 
 and whistles, interpolating these with old tribal 
 songs in short, melodic phrases, the handsome 
 young couple strolled to the river bank. They 
 seated themselves on a great, fallen elm, and 
 watched the moonlight playing on the eddying, 
 rippling water, which was gaining in velocity
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 85 
 
 for its leap over the falls but a hundred yards 
 further on. Wischalow did not delay long in 
 declaring his love, to which the maiden gave her 
 assent by clasping his sinewy hand. Then she 
 pointed to the cataract, over which she had elect- 
 ed to sacrifice herself ever since she was a small 
 child. 
 
 "Truly do I love you," she said, her voice 
 filled with emotion, ' ' but my destiny is to go over 
 the falls in honor of the Water Spirit, the source 
 of our continual life and prosperity." 
 
 ' ' I grant that you will go over the falls, ' ' said 
 the young warrior. Then he let his voice die to 
 a whisper and to himself he repeated "but at 
 the foot of the cataract I will meet you and we 
 will be together for life." 
 
 The sadness in Wischalow 's voice was all gone ; 
 a plan had come to him to permit Ehelilda to 
 fulfill her mission and yet become his wife. Just 
 before they returned to join the merrymakers, 
 the young brave clasped the slender form to his 
 breast, whispering in her pretty ear: "We will 
 meet after you have accepted your destiny." 
 
 "That will be in Paradise," answered Ehel- 
 ilda.
 
 86 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Wischalow gave these words a different inter- 
 pretation than the girl had intended, and was 
 well content. The week after the birthday fes- 
 tival the wise men met, and on the first ballot 
 unanimously chose Ehelilda for the honor of 
 going over the falls. In previous years other 
 candidates received a complimentary vote and 
 on a few occasions many ballots had to be taken 
 before the solons could arrive at a choice. This 
 year it was easy as Ehelilda was so transcend- 
 entally lovely. 
 
 The time for the sacrifice was always in the 
 first week of what the civilized world calls Sep- 
 tember. It was during the period of droughts, 
 when the Water Spirit had shown his spleen in 
 withholding his blessing. There were many beau- 
 tiful autumn flowers at that time, deep purples 
 and yellows, asters, Joe Pye weed, iron weed, 
 vervain, fireweed, golden-rod and tansy, a few 
 maple and hickory leaves were highly tinged 
 with yellow. There was much early fruit on 
 the trees. The red clusters of the crab-apples 
 were particularly noticeable. It was one of na- 
 ture's many periods of lavish beauty. The cere- 
 mony was called for the late afternoon just be-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 87 
 
 fore the sun had begun to set behind the western 
 hills. The banks and rock promontories were 
 thronged with Indians of all stations and ages. 
 
 The lovely sacrifice attended by her proud 
 father met the wise men in the council house an 
 hour before the exercises began. There she was 
 ushered into an inner chamber where her gar- 
 ments were removed and burnt by twelve maid- 
 ens of high degree who clothed her in a flowing 
 gown woven from the hair of snow white fawns. 
 A garland of Meadow Sweet was placed on her 
 broad brow. When all was completed the maid- 
 ens escorted the fair victim back to the council 
 of wise men where in their presence she bade a 
 smiling farewell to her father. Then the native 
 musicians who waited outside began beating 
 their drums and shaking their rattles. Heading 
 the procession of wise men and maidens Ehelilda 
 emerged from the council house. When they 
 saw her the vast throng of Indians gave out their 
 shout of joy and approval, "Hoh, hoh, hoh!" 
 repeated many times like a college yell. 
 
 The procession headed for the river bank, 
 where the graceful canoe, made from "paper" 
 birch was anchored. It was garlanded with
 
 88 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 flowers, corn tassels and heads of wheat, while 
 its interior contained a couch made from differ- 
 ent kinds of fruit. Old Curvencheck, the fath- 
 er, helped her into the craft and tied her fast 
 with coils of otter hide. Then it was launched 
 by the hand-maidens. As the foaming current 
 caught it the Indian multitude again gave vent 
 to their call of triumph, and "Hoh, hoh, hoh, 
 hoh, hoh ! ' ' resounded above the roar of the wa- 
 terfall. All was over in an instant, the canoe, 
 with its smiling, happy victim was over the falls 
 before the throng could realize it. Then they 
 silently dispersed. Many regretted to see the 
 fair girl disappear, never to return. 
 
 At some distance from the foot of the water- 
 fall another canoe, manned by a stalwart young 
 brave was waiting under the overhanging 
 branches. Back of these overhanging branches 
 was a "lost" or "hidden" river of a kind well 
 known by the Indians, that is a river which has 
 an underground channel. While some of the 
 Senecas knew of the existence of this particular 
 sink, they had never explored it, imagining that 
 it led to the underworld, or land of evil spirits.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 89 
 
 Wischalow had from earliest boyhood listened 
 to the old soothsayers and witches, beings with- 
 out the pale of the Seneca religion, but not want- 
 ing in exact knowledge of the phenomena of 
 nature. From several of these he had learned 
 the story of the sinking river, how it wound like 
 a labyrinth for six hundred miles through cav- 
 erns lit by crevices which penetrated to the outer 
 world, and hung with marvellous, transparent 
 stalactites. At the end of the six hundred miles 
 the stream issued out of a chasm in the rocky 
 face of a mountain, into a beautiful valley where 
 the paw paws and persimmons grew, and where 
 the redbud bloomed in purple profusion in mid- 
 May. Wischalow, who was a wonderful swim- 
 mer, had full confidence in his powers. From 
 his hidden point of vantage he could see the 
 white canoe with its precious freight come over 
 the falls, and disappear in the froth and foam 
 below. He calculated the number of moments it 
 would take for it to reach the deadwater, and 
 come to the surface again. He reasoned that 
 Ehelilda could not be dead, unless she should 
 die of fright or collide with a submerged rock.
 
 90 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 When the right amount of time had elapsed 
 he dived from the bow of his canoe, and swam 
 under water to the spot where he calculated the 
 sacrificial canoe must be. And he judged wisely, 
 for on one of his outward strokes his fingers 
 touched the side of the precious craft. Under 
 the water as he was, he almost gave a shout of 
 joy. He reached out further and seized the 
 canoe, and drew it back after him to his hidden 
 retreat under the overhanging birches. Then 
 he got his first look at Ehelilda since her terrible 
 ordeal. Her pink face was deadly white, her 
 long lashes closed over sleeping eyes. He quick- 
 ly felt her hand, it was as cold as the mountain 
 water she had just been through. But Wischa- 
 low could not believe life extinct. He cut the 
 cords which bound her and lifted her tenderly 
 into his own boat. Then he fastened the white 
 canoe behind his own by the same cords. The 
 luscious fruit would be useful on the long jour- 
 ney which faced them, although he had provis- 
 ioned his own craft before beginning his vigil. 
 With a few deft strokes of the paddle he was in 
 the hidden river, travelling under crystal arches, 
 with his unconscious companion.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 91 
 
 When he had caught the proper current, he 
 allowed the canoes to drift, and began rubbing 
 the fair girl 's hands and blowing his breath into 
 her mouth. By the mysterious light from the 
 crevices above he could see color coming back to 
 her lips and cheeks, her hands were growing less 
 clammy. All night long they drifted, with the 
 young warrior breathing back life into his be- 
 loved. When the rays of daylight again filtered 
 through the rocky roof he was overjoyed to see 
 her opening her eyes. When she saw who was 
 bending over she said faintly, but distinctly, 
 "How sweet it is to wake in Paradise." 
 
 Then Wischalow kissed her and when she was 
 strong enough he assured her that she was not 
 dead, that instead she was in an earthly Para- 
 dise, where love would last as long as life. Ehel- 
 ilda soon understood it all and was overjoyed at 
 the way in which her lover had conquered fate. 
 
 The underground journey proved a happy one 
 in the extreme; it was so ecstatic that they did 
 not attempt to count the time. One clear after- 
 noon they saw bright sunlight ahead, and short- 
 ly afterwards the canoe floated out into a pond 
 of clear water with tall, red lilies along its banks,
 
 92 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 with beaver dams at one end of it, at the foot of 
 a great, castellated cliff. By the pool was a 
 greensward, shaded by huge hemlock trees, 
 through whose interspaces could be seen rolling 
 hills, lavender in the light of coming evening. 
 
 Wischalow let the canoes drift to shore, then 
 he leaped out shouting, ' ' Hoh, hoh, hoh, ' ' he was 
 so happy ! A nice fire was built and dried meat 
 was soon cooking over it. A lean-to for the 
 night was pitched and the next morning work 
 on a lodge house began. The few native Indians 
 received them in a kindly manner, only the pan- 
 thers who lived in the cliff disputed their pos- 
 session. And there the Indian couple lived hap- 
 pily for over sixty years. 
 
 Meanwhile the native Indians had died out 
 or moved away, and white settlers encroached 
 to within a few miles of the cozy camp at the 
 foot of the great cliffs. The panthers became 
 more elusive, and less apt to question their 
 rights, the elk were killed off, and the deer and 
 beavers became very scarce. It was then that 
 the Indian couple began thinking of the land of 
 their youth, far to the north in the Genesee 
 country. They could not return against the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 93 
 
 swift current in the hidden river, but they de- 
 cided to walk to the north until they found a 
 secluded spot, and there erect another home. 
 When death overtook them, they would be near 
 childhood scenes. It is a strange desire with 
 men and animals to want to die near the youth- 
 ful home but it is not so strange when we realize 
 that the youthful scenes are usually places where 
 we loved and first learned happiness. 
 
 The pilgrimage was made in the beautiful 
 summertime. The aged couple supported them- 
 selves by selling a goodly store of baskets, cups, 
 beads and trinkets, and were well treated in the 
 different counties traversed. At length they 
 entered the majestic Black Forest, where Wisch- 
 alow had hunted the elk, the black bear, and the 
 panther in his youth, and which as yet was un- 
 visited by the rapacious and wasteful Pennsyl- 
 vania lumbermen. This would be the ideal re- 
 gion for another home. A site was selected with 
 good water and a commanding view, a lean-to 
 was thrown up the first night, work on a lodge 
 house of logs commenced the next morning. It 
 was taken as a good sign that a panther screamed 
 about the lean-to that first night, just as one had
 
 94 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 done at the Panther Caves in Treaster Valley 
 sixty years before. 
 
 The final days of the old couple were very 
 happy. They made several secret visits to the 
 Genesee country, but did not see a single face 
 who could have betrayed them. 
 
 "We will see them all in Paradise," said 
 Wischalow, ' ' they will be surprised that you are 
 getting there so long after their arrival." 
 
 "I am in no hurry to meet them," replied 
 Ehelilda. "I have found Paradise in this old 
 world with you." 
 
 And Wischalow while he mused over the 
 strange events of his long life concluded that it 
 was worth while to have tried to conquer fate. 
 
 ' ' Everything is possible to mankind, ' ' he often 
 said, "if we would but try. I am one of those 
 who has tried, and see my gain. Then he would 
 point to his wife, working at her household du- 
 ties outside the cabin door. 
 
 When death finally visited Wischalow and 
 Ehelilda both were estimated to be over ninety 
 years of age. They died two weeks apart, and 
 after they were both laid to rest, side by side, 
 near the Coudersport Pike, Senecas came to their
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 95 
 
 graves and sprinkled them with forget-me-nots. 
 Perhaps these tribesmen guessed their story, but 
 were too good to interfere.
 
 V. 
 
 IN THE RAFTERS. 
 (A Tale of the Mountaineers' Conscience.) 
 
 BOUT thirty years ago, lumber- 
 ing operations at Leary's Sum- 
 mit commenced in earnest. 
 The railroad, which completely 
 bisected the Black Forest was 
 completed, opening up a vast territory, covered 
 with virgin timber. At the juncture of the main 
 line and the road which ran through the forest 
 an enormous saw-mill, which ran night and day, 
 was erected. A new population was brought into 
 the town, representing the best and worst ele- 
 ments of humanity. There were the owners and 
 superintendents of the saw-mills, stave mills, 
 planing mills, lath mills, veneer works, acid fac- 
 tories and such, with their families; the opera- 
 tors, the shop-keepers, the serving class and the 
 saloon-keepers, which last named gentry catered 
 to a long suppressed instinct of the woods- 
 people. 
 96
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 97 
 
 With a street lined with liquor stores, there 
 was temptation a-plenty for the mountaineers 
 who were drawn to the town by its bright lights 
 and brisk development. The facility of obtain- 
 ing work and the high wages sowed a disinclina- 
 tion to labor in many, while the abundance of 
 liquor seemed the only goal worth striving for. 
 Many men who had lived by sporadic logging 
 and trapping, and saw little real money, now 
 worked for a week or two in the big bark-peeling 
 camps or saw-mills, and then went on long sprees 
 with their rolls of easily earned "greenbacks." 
 A spirit of recklessness was engendered, and the 
 general moral tone of the mountaineers lowered 
 decidedly after a year or two of prosperity. 
 
 Out on Powder Hill, about three miles back 
 of the lumber town, lived Abel Sweek and his 
 wife. Early in life this man had given promise 
 of being an industrious worker, but he grew to 
 spending most of his time in the saloons, and 
 neglected his chances for legitimate employment. 
 His wife, instead of trying to raise him, sunk to 
 his level, and often imbibed too freely. The 
 couple had one child, a pretty, curly-haired little 
 boy of four years, to whom they were apparently
 
 98 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 devoted. It was a lonely place for a child to be 
 brought up, out on the bleak hill, in the shack of 
 hemlock boards, unplaned, unpainted, and lop- 
 sided. The yard and garden fences were built 
 of slabs, from the mill. Huge hemlock stumps 
 were everywhere, even in the garden three or 
 four, on which the morning glories twined, 
 reared their blackened heads. 
 
 Formerly, this had been a great hunting coun- 
 try, but with the removal of the timber a person 
 could travel for hours and scarcely see a chip- 
 munk. Despite this apparent state of affairs, 
 Sweek always liked to regale the saloon idlers 
 with stories of animals which he claimed he was 
 seeing or hearing around his home. One day 
 he would come into town and tell about a wild- 
 cat which was carrying off his chickens, another 
 time it was a bear that scared his wife while she 
 was coming from the spring, another time he had 
 heard a panther scream on the top of the hill, 
 in the rear of the house. Besides these, he was 
 always tracking deer and seeing a large number 
 of grouse or "pheasants." Though no one else 
 saw or heard anything, few doubted the stories, 
 as Sweek 's record for untruthfulness had not
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 99 
 
 been established. In most communities a man is 
 believed until he is proved a falsifier. In this 
 case, untruthful though he might be, the yarns 
 proved an agreeable break in the monotonous 
 existence of the dwellers in the lumber town. 
 
 One night, just prior to Christinas, the Sweek 
 shanty was burned to the ground. The chimney 
 had become overheated and ignited the wall, and 
 in a quarter of an hour not even the foundations 
 remained. The family escaped with their cloth- 
 ing. The next morning Sweek went to Leary's 
 Summit to secure sympathy. A subscription 
 paper was passed about in the bar-rooms, but the 
 beneficiary drank up and treated away most of 
 the fund before he started homeward, along the 
 cross-ties. It was a cold evening when he reach- 
 ed the ruins, and naturally his wife and little 
 boy had departed. When he started for town, 
 they wended their way across the hills to the 
 home of the woman's mother. This old lady, 
 Mrs. Maria Ehrenwhoof, lived in a cozy little 
 cottage at the edge of the original forest. The 
 timber had been cut away on the opposite side 
 of the road, there was not a green tree in that 
 direction as far as the eye could reach. But
 
 100 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 back of the cottage, the smooth, grey boles of the 
 white hemlocks rose in level rows sixty feet to 
 the lowest branches. The canopy of foliage was 
 so dense that the sun could not penetrate. The 
 patch where the cottage stood had been cleared 
 thirty-five years before, consequently the hem- 
 locks along the edge of the forest had become 
 accustomed to the light, the frail trees had died 
 and been cut away years before. In that way 
 the fringe of brown, dead timber, so conspicu- 
 ous along the boundaries of a hemlock forest was 
 missing. The little yard and garden were filled 
 with fruit trees, while a Virginia creeper and 
 a grape-vine spread over the entire front side of 
 the neat log-cabin, the chinks in which were care- 
 fully plastered. Old "Mammy" Ehrenwhoof 
 lived there with her unmarried son, Henwood, 
 and the pair naturally welcomed the Sweek fam- 
 ily into their midst after the unhappy holocaust. 
 Everything might have run smoothly had not 
 Sweek continued his drinking, and he quarrelled 
 repeatedly with his brother-in-law. Henwood 
 Ehrenwhoof was a sober, industrious fellow, a 
 track-walker on the Black Forest Railway. 
 After one particularly bitter row, he gathered
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 101 
 
 together his belongings and moved into a desert- 
 ed hunter's shanty which stood about a mile 
 further in the forest. Sweek then proceeded to 
 make his mother-in-law's life miserable. The old 
 lady was over seventy, and not very strong, and 
 her son-in-law's insolence, together with her 
 daughter's shiftlessness, told heavily on her 
 health. She took her bed about the first of Feb- 
 ruary, and passed away late in March. 
 
 Before the funeral, Henwood blamed the 
 Sweeks for the old lady 's death, saying that they 
 had worried her into her grave. In reply, the 
 son was told that he should have taken his 
 mother with him when he moved away. But the 
 old woman would never have gone, she loved her 
 little home where she had lived most of her mar- 
 ried life too much. There was another quarrel 
 over the funeral expenses, and Sweek went on a 
 terrible spree as a result of his inability to pay 
 his share. He lay in bed for over a week, finally 
 getting broken in health and nerves. He was 
 now unable to work, even if he were willing to 
 do so ; he owed a store bill, a doctor bill, as well 
 as a part of his mother-in-law 's funeral expenses. 
 It was enough to worry anyone, let alone an in-
 
 102 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ebriated, half-crazy backwoodsman. As time 
 progressed he began to fancy that he was being 
 neglected by everybody, that the public should 
 help him in his indigent condition. 
 
 Springtime came along, and the peach and 
 plum trees in the tiny yard and garden were in 
 bloom. The little home was a bower of loveliness 
 if only the inmates could appreciate it. But 
 they pursued their sullen, ungrateful way, al- 
 ways complaining at the world, which they con- 
 sidered owed them a living in idleness. 
 
 Then, all at once, the town of Leary 's Summit 
 was startled by the report that the couple 's little 
 son Sammy had been lost or kidnapped. The 
 parents had gone to effect a reconciliation with 
 Kenwood Ehrenwhoof, finding him not at home. 
 When they returned, the little boy whom they 
 had left playing in the yard, was nowhere to be 
 found. The couple were frantic with grief. 
 While the husband hurried to town for financial 
 aid, and liquor to steady his nerves, the wife 
 rolled about on the floor, surrounded by sympa- 
 thizing mountain women. 
 
 ' ' Their hearts are in the right place after all, ' ' 
 was the general verdict of the public, ' ' else they 
 v:ould not take on so over the loss of their child. ' '
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 103 
 
 The big saw-mill granted a half-holiday for its 
 employees to scour the woods. The managers and 
 superintendents of the different plants sub- 
 scribed liberally for the comfort of the sorrowing 
 parents. Letters were written to the newspapers 
 at Smethport, Coudersport and Renovo, some 
 public-spirited lumbermen offered a cash reward 
 for the child's body, dead or alive. All kinds of 
 solutions for the mystery were offered. Gypsies 
 had been seen traveling along the Portage Road, 
 perhaps they had fled with the child to New 
 York State the haven of every escaping scala- 
 wag. The little one might have wandered off 
 into the woods, fallen into a brook and been 
 drowned. Perhaps one of those fierce panthers 
 or bears which Sweek saw so often had devoured 
 the boy. Suspicion even fell on Henwood Ehr- 
 enwhoof ; he might have kidnapped the child for 
 revenge. 
 
 The Sweeks became the centre of interest, and 
 in one way or another managed to keep it up for 
 nearly a month. These were very profitable 
 days, it was like finding money, Mrs. Sweek 
 would say. But despite all the donations and 
 "loans," and sympathy and counsel, the couple
 
 104 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 looked like a pair of hunted beasts. They lost 
 flesh, they could not eat, their bloodshot eyes 
 popped from their heads. "They are dying of 
 grief, we must find their boy," echoed from one 
 mountaineer to another. The rich and pros- 
 perous made the long journey out to the lonely 
 cabin, nearly every one dropping a five dollar 
 bill into the woman's hands before taking leave. 
 There were also curiosity seekers, who paid for 
 the privilege of offering condolences. 
 
 But the strangest part of all was that the 
 county authorities took no official cognizance of 
 the child's disappearance. Of course, thirty 
 years ago police departments in mountainous 
 county seats were not in a high degree of effi- 
 ciency, and news and exact information travelled 
 slowly. The general feeling was that the little 
 boy would ' ' turn up ; " hence, the wheels of offi- 
 cialdom were slow of motion. There was a sur- 
 prisingly small amount of space devoted to the 
 affair in the county newspapers. Grover Cleve- 
 land and Blaine were of more news interest than 
 a vanished mountain boy. 
 
 But in the home of the Sweeks there was sen- 
 sation enough to atone for the seeming indiffer-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 105 
 
 ence of the world. Their nights were rendered 
 intolerable by the patter of childish feet on the 
 floor of the attic above where they slept. There 
 was a constant cracking and creaking of the 
 attic rafters. At times, the entire house seemed 
 to sway and rock. The wind whistled with an 
 almost human wail. Doors of closets opened and 
 shut noisily, furniture overturned itself, lights 
 were blown out, sleep became out of the question, 
 the approach of night was terrifying. 
 
 There were many persons who would gladly 
 have slept in the cabin with them, and eased 
 their nightly misery, had they but dared to con- 
 fide the awful story to them. But instead they 
 had to remain silent and endure it as long as 
 they could. For up in the garret, in a soap-box 
 resting across two of the narrow rafters lay the 
 body of their little boy. 
 
 The child had always seemed in the way, it 
 required money to keep him, which might have 
 been spent for his parents' pleasures. He re- 
 quired care when his parents were not physically 
 able to look after him, when overcome by inso- 
 briety. One night, when the couple were lying 
 fully dressed on their bed, well under the influ-
 
 106 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ence of cheap whiskey, the horrible idea came to 
 them of putting the child out of the way. Sweek 
 suggested it, and the wife readily assented. 
 
 They reasoned that if they caused the little 
 boy to disappear mysteriously, it would arouse 
 the sympathies of the wealthy people at Leary's 
 Summit, they would be given lots of money, and 
 when the donations ceased they would be the 
 better off because there would only be the two 
 of them. The people at the town had about 
 reached the limit of their generosity as matters 
 stood; this new episode would arouse them 
 afresh. There was no telling to what ends their 
 liberality might reach. The story could be given 
 out that the child had vanished from the yard 
 while they were away seeking a reconciliation 
 with Hen wood Ehrenwhoof ; after a while, they 
 could place the body in the forest, and it would 
 look as if the child had become lost and perished 
 from starvation. 
 
 Meanwhile, all kinds of plausible causes for 
 its absence could be spread abroad. ' Chuckling 
 over their evil intentions, the couple staggered 
 to their feet, and went over to the crude wooden 
 trestle which served as the child's bed. The lit-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 107 
 
 tie fellow was sound asleep, and the father, with 
 his huge, bony fingers, strangled him to death 
 where he lay. Then the mother dressed the 
 child, and doubled the body into a soap-box 
 which had served as a receptacle for stove-wood. 
 The woman laid some boards loosely over the 
 top. Then the couple started up the rickety 
 stairs to the attic ; Sweek went ahead carrying a 
 small kerosene lamp. At the next to the top 
 step he slipped, dropping the lamp. Luckily, 
 as it fell, it went out, preventing an explosion 
 which might have incinerated the murderers, 
 victim, house and all. Mrs. Sweek dropped the 
 box containing the little corpse, and it rolled out 
 in a heap on the floor at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 Sweek swore long and loudly, ordering his 
 wife to go down and get another lamp. She pro- 
 tested that she had broken the other lamp the 
 day before; in reality she was afraid. Sweek 
 was just as scared as she, so he compromised by 
 lighting numerous matches which he carried in 
 his trousers' pockets. By this uncertain light 
 the woman was enabled to pick up the child's 
 body and put in the box, and the trip to the 
 lonely garret was resumed.
 
 108 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Then the dog outside set up a piteous howling. 
 In some way, he had become aware that some- 
 thing was amiss. Sweek cursed the dog, vowing 
 to "settle it," if it did not quiet down by the 
 time he finished hiding away his child's body. 
 The dog did not grow quiet, and to the tune of 
 this awful uproar, the box was placed in a re- 
 mote corner of the rafters, just where they 
 joined the eaves. Other boxes were moved over 
 against it. 
 
 "When the first excitement is over," said 
 Sweek, wiping the sweat from his brow with his 
 elbow, "we'll take the body out into the woods, 
 over by the old wolf caves would be a good 
 place. ' ' 
 
 Then he went down-stairs, followed by his 
 wife, to attend to the barking dog. Picking up 
 a heavy cane which his late mother-in-law had 
 used in her latter days, he opened the kitchen 
 door. The infuriated dog sprang at him, but he 
 beat it off. Angered beyond measure, he pur- 
 sued the brute to its kennel, where it cowered 
 with fright. He ran back to the house, finding 
 his wife drinking whiskey by the light of one 
 feeble tallow candle. He took his revolver out
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 109 
 
 of the cupboard and returned to the dog house, 
 firing without aim, in the darkness, into where 
 the dog lay. There were some hideous howls of 
 pain then all was still. 
 
 Sweek went indoors and with his wife, drank 
 whiskey until daylight, when the supply was 
 exhausted. By that time the two plotters had 
 patched together their story, so that it had not a 
 single weak point, apparently. Sweek went out 
 and buried the dead dog in the garden. Then 
 he shaved himself with an unsteady hand, tidied 
 his clothes as best he could, and went for a walk 
 into the forest accompanied by his wife. This 
 was to give actual color to their story that the 
 child had disappeared while they were seeking 
 a reconciliation with Henwood Ehrenwhoof. On 
 their stroll, they passed Henwood 's cabin, but 
 they knew he was not at home, as he generally 
 slept in the tool-house by day, near the section 
 which he patrolled after the evening "combina- 
 tion" train pulled in. 
 
 That night Sweek visited Leary's Summit. 
 The effect of his story of the missing child was 
 all that he anticipated and more. He was the 
 hero of the hour; people of prosaic life must
 
 110 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 have excitement. A lost child story was more 
 blood-curdling than a panther or bear story. 
 
 "When he reached home at day-break, he was 
 accompanied by a dozen volunteer hunters for 
 the child, among them, Kenwood Ehrenwhoof. 
 He noticed that his wife was looking badly, 
 caused either by a lack of alcohol or the excite- 
 ment of the last twenty-four hours. When she 
 could speak to him alone she whispered that 
 she had heard the child running about the attic 
 all night. "You are drunk or crazy," said the 
 husband with an ugly leer. "Wait and hear 
 for yourself, Abel," was all the woman would 
 say in reply. 
 
 Night fell, and what a terrible night it was. 
 All manner of horrid noises, and most hideous 
 of all, the child's footsteps pattering about on 
 the badly swung attic floor. Many times the 
 guilty souls were convinced that the child was 
 not dead, or had come to life again. This 
 thought was pleasing to them; it soothed them 
 temporarily. But neither had the courage to 
 go to the garret and see for themselves. 
 
 They were burned and stung and torn by con- 
 science, something they never dreamed they pos-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 111 
 
 sessed. The next night was worse, the night 
 following still more terrible. In fact, every 
 night added to the torture. Finally, Sweek sug- 
 gested to his wife that the time had come to 
 take the body into the forest, but neither had 
 the courage to do it. They quarrelled and almost 
 came to blows over this. Then it was decided 
 that they move away. But where and when? 
 They dared not attract suspicion, but how could 
 they remain longer under the roof where such 
 sounds made night so damnably horrible? 
 
 One night while they were eating supper, with 
 the inevitable quart bottle of whiskey on the 
 table, they heard the cover of the dough-tray 
 fall to the floor. Looking around, they were 
 certain that they saw the bent form of the old, 
 dead woman, Mammy Ehrenwhoof, carrying the 
 corpse of the murdered child in her arms. Sweek 
 and his wife uttered a series of piercing yells, 
 and fell off their chairs in a maudlin, fainting 
 condition. When they recovered themselves, 
 both were animated by a different spirit. They 
 stared at one another and dragged themselves 
 to their feet.
 
 112 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 "I'm going to the county jail, and give my- 
 self up," drawled Sweek. 
 
 "I'll go with you, there's just as much guilt 
 on me," said the wife. The stars were out, the 
 road over the hill towards the county seat twenty 
 miles away was broad and well known to them. 
 So they put on their hats and coats ; the night air 
 in May was sometimes frosty in the Alleghanies. 
 And through the Black Forest they toiled along, 
 reaching the county town at dawn on a misty 
 morning. They knew the county jail well, with 
 its iron grated windows and brownstone jail- 
 yard wall. 
 
 They seated themselves, a frowsy pair, on the 
 front steps of the Sheriff's house next door to 
 the jail building, back of the prim old court- 
 house. The blinds were down, and the worthy 
 official evidently was a late sleeper. As the sun 
 drove away the melancholy mists, Sweek and his 
 wife appeared to be smiling to themselves. 
 
 The woman noticed the improved expression of 
 her husband's face, and said, "Abe, you look 
 ten years younger." 
 
 "So do you, Maggie," replied the man. "It's 
 an awful load off our minds now that we are 
 giving ourselves up."
 
 THE LAST SK1DWAY ON KETTLE CREEK
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 113 
 
 "Yes," said the woman, "and in our suffer- 
 ing we have been punished for that hellish deed 
 that whiskey done in us. But say, does it seem 
 right that after our consciences have ripped us 
 to pieces that law has to step in and punish us 
 all over again?" 
 
 ' ' If you feel that way, woman, there 's time to 
 leave here, no one's seen us yet." 
 
 "I don't care," answered the woman, "let the 
 law take it's course, I'm done." 
 
 Just at that minute the heavy, walnut door of 
 the Sheriff's home was unbolted from within, 
 and a big, blond, round-faced man, collarless 
 and in carpet slippers stepped out on the porch.
 
 VI. 
 
 THE WINTER OF THE WOLVES. 
 ( A Story of Windfall Run.) 
 
 URING Indian days wolves 
 were never over-prevalent in 
 the Black Forest. The red- 
 men were a safety valve which 
 kept their numbers within 
 bounds. They hunted the animals persistently 
 for their hides, but at the same time, would 
 never have thought of exterminating them ; they 
 had an eye for the future, a sense of responsi- 
 bility for the generations to come. There must 
 be sport and fur for these. 
 
 It was in the brief period after the redskins 
 had withdrawn from the Black Forest, and the 
 white settlers had not arrived in great numbers, 
 that the wolves threatened to become a menace. 
 Unmolested, they increased rapidly, driving the 
 elks and deer into more settled regions, west and 
 south where they fell easy victims to the rifles 
 of the pioneers. When the white men began 
 114
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 115 
 
 making clearings in the forest, they found the 
 wolves ready to devour their sheep, and they 
 cried loudly for a county and then a state bounty 
 to encourage their destruction. 
 
 The legislators at Harrisburg, always eager 
 to vote away the tax-payers' money, fixed the 
 bounty rate so high that it became more profit- 
 able to hunt wolves than to raise sheep. Many 
 respectable settlers abandoned farming and 
 stock-raising altogether, and became professional 
 wolfers. The effect was demoralizing to the 
 proper opening of a new country, and agricul- 
 ture was given a backset from w r hich it took 
 half a century to recover. In some sections it 
 never recovered. Everyone enjoyed hunting, it 
 was easy money ; even after the wolves, panthers, 
 catamounts and other proscribed animals disap- 
 peared, the professional bounty-chasers were 
 loath to go back to the plow and grubbing hoe. 
 
 Shortly after the departure of most of the 
 native Indians, of the Black Forest, it was in 
 the first quarter of the nineteenth century, fur- 
 traders were attracted to the region by tales of 
 the plentitude of wolves and fur-bearing animals 
 in general. Among these was a Polish refugee
 
 116 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 named John "Wallize who had settled in Philadel- 
 phia as a shop-keeper, but who was glad to go 
 back to his early calling of wolf-hunter, when 
 he learned that similar animals abounded in 
 parts of Northern Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania 
 wolf hides shown him were remarkably like wolf 
 hides from Poland and Russia. He sold his 
 notion shop, and devoted the proceeds to fitting 
 out an expedition to be gone an entire winter, 
 so as to get the hides in prime condition. 
 
 He boated his supplies from Harrisburg to 
 Jersey Shore, where he engaged pack-horses to 
 take him into the big forests to the North. In 
 Jersey Shore he also found a number of Indians 
 who offered their services as wolfers, who knew 
 the country well. He was recommended to hire 
 Tallchief, then a youth of eighteen or twenty, 
 and a fine, six-foot savage he was, Little Canoe, 
 a short Indian, but well versed in woodcraft, and 
 Jack Berry, an excellent cook and general handy 
 man on the trap-line or in the shanty. 
 
 These Indians said that from all reports 
 wolves would be unusually prevalent that it 
 would be a regular winter of the wolves. Wal- 
 lize explained to them that he wished to secure
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 117 
 
 at least five hundred prime wolf hides, one hun- 
 dred black bear skins, one hundred black fox 
 skins, and other hides, else it would not pay him 
 to start on such a costly expedition. The Indians 
 assured him that a catch of that size would be 
 possible, and offered their services free in case 
 a smaller number of hides were secured. 
 
 This seemed like a good guarantee for results, 
 so preparations were completed. Tallchief, al- 
 though the youngest of the party, seemed to be 
 the most experienced wolfer, so he was appealed 
 to for the selection of the camp-site or headquar- 
 ters. He said that he had once spent a winter 
 on Windfall Run, in what is now Potter County, 
 that wolves bred in the rocks all along the creek, 
 and that they gathered in the mountains there 
 by the hundreds. 
 
 It was before the days of the Coudersport 
 Pike, so the pack-horses had to follow a narrow 
 trail through the forest. The beasts were owned 
 by Zack Banghart, who carried on a profitable 
 packing business through the unsettled moun- 
 tainous regions. It was arranged that he would 
 come for the campers again on or about April 
 first, if the snow was gone sufficiently by that
 
 118 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 time; the start was made the first week in De- 
 cember. The weather was unusually cold for 
 that time of the year, but that was rather pleas- 
 ing to Wallize ; it meant finer furs, he said. At 
 least, it was that way in the old country. 
 
 It was a journey of several days over range 
 after range of black forested mountains and 
 across scores of swift streams, until the Windfall 
 Bun region was reached. This creek is a tribu- 
 tary of the Cross Fork of Kettle Creek, and 
 flows through a narrow, rocky valley. Here, cen- 
 turies before, panthers and wolves had fought 
 for the undisputed possession of the caverns, the 
 wolves coming out victorious. The Indians 
 trapped and shot many wolves in this vicinity, 
 but not enough to make the animals abandon 
 the region. It was an ideal breeding and feed- 
 ing ground, it would take a general crusade to 
 drive them out. 
 
 Wallize was delighted with the appearance of 
 the valley. Already covered with snow, wolf 
 tracks were everywhere. Windfalls had thrown 
 the giant hemlocks which grew in abundance 
 against the face of the cliffs, and concealed the 
 wolf dens from view. One could not guess the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 119 
 
 proximity or number of wolves in the valley, 
 unless seeing their tracks after a snowfall. As 
 they had not learned the habit from imitating 
 dogs, the primitive wolves of Windfall Run sel- 
 dom barked. All their time was spent foraging; 
 they had no time for barking antics. Wallize 
 purposely brought no dogs along, as these ani- 
 mals only excited the wolves, and kept them con- 
 stantly moving. Wolf -hunting with dogs worked 
 very well on the steppes or plains in the old 
 country, but not in hilly regions. He wished to 
 trap quietly, in the old-fashioned Indian style 
 and the wolves would be scarcely aware of his 
 efforts to capture them, so stealthily would he 
 pursue his purpose. He brought a number of 
 iron traps modelled after the kind used so suc- 
 cessfully in Europe at the time, but he also 
 planned to use pitfalls and snares, which Indian 
 trappers assured him worked very well. He 
 would try three or four methods, one after an- 
 other, at first, then devote his whole time to the 
 best method thereafter. 
 
 Camp was pitched on the small clearing which 
 Tallchief and his brothers had used when wolfing 
 in the valley three winters before. A waterfall
 
 120 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ran out of the rocks close at hand, which flowed 
 into a pebbly bowl, admirable for washing or 
 drinking purposes. A log cabin was quickly 
 constructed, its rear wall abutting against the 
 steep mountain side, and close to where the cas- 
 cade poured out of the rocks. It seemed an ideal 
 situation, and Wallize could not help but loudly 
 express his gratification. The Indians laid out 
 the traps along the wolves' favorite paths, the 
 European method was to be tried first. An espe- 
 cial effort was made to set out bear traps, as these 
 animals were soon due to den up for the winter. 
 
 The result of the first twenty-four hours' trap- 
 ping was startlingly successful. Twenty-five 
 wolves and four black bears were brought into 
 camp, all captured within a radius of one mile 
 of the headquarters. Wallize was overjoyed. He 
 examined the wolf hides carefully, remarking 
 that they compared favorably with any taken in 
 the coldest parts of Russia. The;y were grey 
 wolves, and some of them weighed in life close 
 to a hundred pounds. The first week of trapping 
 by the European method brought in one hundred 
 and ten wolves, and eight black bears. These 
 numbers were greater than the Pole had antici-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 121 
 
 pated, so he concluded to make this his standard 
 method during the winter. There were more 
 snowfalls, yet the trapping continued good. The 
 first day traps were set within one mile of camp, 
 gradually this radius was widened to four miles 
 by the eighth day. A ten-mile radius was the 
 greatest territory to be "set," unless luck would 
 materially change for the worse. 
 
 The wolves seemed very tame, and easily 
 fooled into involving themselves with the traps. 
 The bear traps did not do so well, but the In- 
 dians said that the heavy snow had hurried the 
 sluggish creatures into winter quarters. But if 
 they did not get the expected number of bear 
 hides it looked as if they would obtain at least 
 a thousand wolves, and there were prospects that 
 a big number of otters would be speared through 
 the ice in various nearby streams. 
 
 Wallize made no complaint, it was much bet- 
 ter than he had anticipated. During the second 
 week in camp there was a snowstorm every day. 
 The gradual accretion was becoming consider- 
 able as there were no thaws. It banked about the 
 cabin clear to the bottom of the windows; on 
 the level ground it measured four and a half
 
 122 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 feet on Christmas Eve, During these daily 
 blizzards trapping came to a temporary stand- 
 still. The traps were buried in the drifts, the 
 wolves and other animals remained in their fast- 
 nesses. In the second week only twenty-four 
 wolves and one black bear were brought into 
 camp. But Wallize did not complain; he knew 
 he was in a country rich in fur-bearing animals ; 
 when the snow went off wholesale trapping 
 would resume. 
 
 On Christmas Eve a mammoth panther, a rare 
 animal in the valley, visited the cabin. It was 
 evidently hunger crazed, for it leaped from the 
 mountain side on the shanty roof. It tore at the 
 bark roof so savagely that Little Canoe, fearing 
 it would rip a hole and fall in on the trappers 
 seized his rifle and shot in the direction from 
 whence the sounds came. The shot was a good 
 one, for the brute uttered a howl of pain and 
 sprang into space, landing in the snow twenty 
 feet in front of the shack. The trappers went 
 out and found that it had been shot through the 
 heart. It was very old, as it was practically 
 toothless, even its claws were worn almost down 
 to the quick. Wallize measured it, according to
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 123 
 
 his expert methods. Before skinning, the mon- 
 ster was ten feet five inches from tip to tip, or 
 the length of the largest African lion on record. 
 After skinning it stretched ten feet ten and one- 
 half inches. Many sporting writers and natural- 
 ists state that Pennsylvania panthers could not 
 have been so big as the old hunters claimed, but 
 there are a number of authentic instances show- 
 ing that the animals were much larger than 
 modern hunters, used only to measuring wood- 
 chucks and foxes, believed them to be. 
 
 On Christmas morning the snow began in 
 earnest. It looked as if the veritable "down 
 mattress" was being dumped from the heavens. 
 Little Canoe and Jack Berry spent the morning 
 preparing a grand mid-day feast, with panther 
 steak and wolf fore-quarters, the pieces de resist- 
 ance. The cooking meat, in the great, open fire- 
 place, gave out a savory odor, and turned the 
 minds of the trappers from the dreary aspect 
 outside. When the dinner began, the snow 
 banked half way to the tops of the windows, and 
 still was coming down. 
 
 "It ought to quit by night," said Tallchief, 
 who young as he was, had been looked to as the
 
 124 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 weather prophet of the party. When night closed 
 in, the snow was level with the tops of the win- 
 dows. It had been so dark for hours before, that 
 the only way in which time could be figured was 
 by Wallize 's silver watch. It was one of the first 
 ones that the Indians had seen, and they were 
 fascinated by its mechanism and neatness. When 
 the watch told the trappers that morning had 
 arrived, they found that the snow was packed so 
 solidly about the cabin that they could not get 
 out. They estimated that the drifts were as high 
 as the roof. They would have smothered to death 
 had it not been for the tall stone chimney which 
 proved to be an admirable ventilator. Judging 
 from the amount of snow which fell down the 
 chimney, the storm was still in progress. It had 
 now apparently gone on without a break for over 
 thirty-six hours, and there seemed to be no signs 
 of its letting up. During the day the snow di- 
 minished, but a wind of high velocity arose. Even 
 in the sheltered valley, it howled and whistled 
 around the rocks, trees and gullies. 
 
 There was nothing for the trappers to do but 
 to be patient, and as they thought they were well 
 provisioned, they viewed the situation with non-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 125 
 
 chalance. For the next week there were more 
 snowstorms, and several more terrific wind- 
 storms. By the awful noises outside, many big 
 trees were being blown over. The supply of 
 fresh meat, mostly bear steaks, on which they 
 had feasted at first, ran out, and they found that 
 the rest of their provisions were of a kind un- 
 fitted to sustain four strong, healthy men in a 
 long captivity. The air in the shanty was be- 
 coming close and unwholesome from constant 
 breathing, to say nothing of the proximity of 
 so many animal hides. The chimney was all right 
 enough for a few days, but the volume of impure 
 air proved too great for its capacity in time. 
 The men made a desperate effort to get out. They 
 lifted the door from its hinges, finding a wall of 
 snow, higher than the shanty in front of them. 
 This they attacked with picks and shovels, but 
 they found that they were getting nowhere. 
 While they worked the snow was falling and the 
 wind drifted it wherever they made slight head- 
 way in clearing a path. 
 
 When night set in, no actual progress had 
 been made. About nine o'clock in the evening, 
 the wind attained a greater velocity than ever
 
 126 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 before. If the cabin had not been hedged in by 
 immense snowdrifts, it would have been blown 
 to pieces. A number of stones were blown off 
 the chimney, reducing its height to the level of 
 the drifts. There was a constant boom, bang, 
 crash of falling trees and of rocks rolling from 
 the sides of the steep mountains. 
 
 "If a big rock from above us should fall on 
 our roof it would be an end to us," said Jack 
 Berry. The rest of the party accepted his views 
 in silence. They knew what he said was only too 
 true. 
 
 About midnight they heard a terrific rumbling 
 and ripping far up on the mountain above the 
 cabin. The wind kept on sweeping in dreadful 
 gales, so cold that it penetrated the sheltered 
 hut. Since the upper stones of the chimney had 
 been knocked off the fire would not draw well, 
 and the men who became half frozen, as well as 
 overcome by the impure air, huddled under the 
 piles of wolf hides, which now were most useful 
 as coverings. 
 
 It was not long until the wind shook loose a 
 group of giant hemlocks which grew on the face 
 of the mountain, a quarter of a mile straight up
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 127 
 
 from the cabin. With their roots gripping heavy 
 rocks, earth, and ice, they started downward 
 with a roar like the end of the world. It was 
 the most terrible sound that any of the trappers 
 had ever heard. They thought that their hour 
 had come. 
 
 Down the mountain the avalanche came car- 
 rying everything with it. As it neared the shanty, 
 it sent its immense volume over the roof, com- 
 pletely burying it under tons of debris. The 
 fact that the mass of matter swept over the 
 cabin, and did not fall straight on it, prevented 
 its complete annihilation. As it was, it was little 
 short of a miracle that cabin and inmates es- 
 caped. But their situation was one of grave 
 danger. Even if the snowstorms ceased, it 
 would take days of work for the captives to dig 
 themselves out. The provisions, such as they 
 had, were sure to run out, for without fresh 
 meat, they would quickly finish the goods on 
 hand. 
 
 There seemed to be some opening which let 
 in ventilation through the chimney, but not 
 much. The captives surveyed the situation and 
 resolved to dig out at any cost. The giant trees
 
 128 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 which were loosened by the tornado had slid 
 down the mountain butts foremost. The huge 
 roots, in which were matted rocks, earth, ice and 
 snow, had lodged directly in front of the cabin, 
 where the doors and two .small windows were 
 located. This cut off that direction as an avenue 
 of escape. The only way to get out would be to 
 knock a hole in the house on one of the other 
 sides. The side opposite the entrance abutted 
 against the mountain, on one other side the 
 chimney was almost the width of the structure. 
 
 There was one way to escape, and on that side 
 the trappers commenced pulling off the log- walls. 
 When they had made an opening sufficiently 
 large, they began their atack on the snow. To 
 their intense disappointment, they found that 
 part of the landslide had engulfed that side of 
 the cabin also, and the spring had frozen the 
 entire debris into a solid mass. They now began 
 to calculate that the hut was entirely buried be- 
 neath the avalanche. 
 
 The wolf-hunters were as securely trapped as 
 any of the fur-bearers had been. But they de- 
 termined to continue their efforts for escape, al- 
 though the faint ventilation received was barely
 
 
 is? 
 
 ^
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 129 
 
 enough to keep them alive. They threw them- 
 selves down on the piles of furs, distressed in 
 body and spirit. But sometimes hope appears 
 at the darkest moment. 
 
 Wallize, who was resting on the side of the 
 cabin nearest to the big chimney, fancied he 
 heard a scraping noise outside. At first, he put 
 his hand to his fevered brow, imagining that it 
 was some hallucination to a disordered intellect. 
 He felt sure, as time wore on that the sound was 
 outside, and not from within his head. He lis- 
 tened intently; it was not as near to the struc- 
 ture as he thought at first. It sounded like dogs 
 digging at a woodchuck's hole, only much loud- 
 er. The three Indians became deathly ill from 
 lack of air, and rolled about on the furs, as if 
 seasick, oblivious to everything. 
 
 The sound of something moving outside had 
 a reviving effect on "Wallize. Some living force 
 was coming to the rescue of the unfortunate 
 trappers. Yet it could not be human aid, not 
 possibly. Yet what could it be ? He feared to 
 tell the others lest it subside, and cause a greater 
 depression of spirits among the Indians than 
 before. He had read and been told of the sto-
 
 130 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 lidity of the redskins, but in this instance, he, the 
 pale face, was facing death with more equanim- 
 ity than the Indian stoics. He kept listening; 
 the scraping grew louder and louder. All the 
 day it continued; how much longer it had been 
 at work he knew not. 
 
 At nightfall, a snapping and snarling like sav- 
 age dogs was added to the scraping sound. This 
 the Indians heard; pale as corpses and tottering 
 they were on their feet in an instant. 
 
 "The wolves are outside, the wolves are out- 
 side," shouted Little Canoe, in a delirious 
 ecstacy. 
 
 "Take your axes, boys, and cut away that 
 wall," shouted Wallize. 
 
 The noise was too loud to be far off now. The 
 weakened savages began slashing at the logs 
 beside the chimney great chips flying all over 
 the disordered room. Working all at once, and 
 crazed with excitement, their axe-bits often 
 struck together with sonorous music. Soon the 
 wall was demolished, and but two feet of snow 
 remained between the trappers and the pack of 
 wolves.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 131 
 
 The beasts were crazed with hunger, and were 
 working as fast as the trappers. The snow was 
 brushed away, and the faces of a pack of lean, 
 hideous looking beasts peered in on the human 
 captives. The smell of living beings and food 
 inflamed the starving creatures, and they pressed 
 one another forward into the breach. The In- 
 dians allowed the first dozen to get into the 
 room, then they began splitting their skulls with 
 the axes. The impact of those behind forced 
 the others forward and they kept appearing at 
 the opening, where they were met by the subtle 
 trappers. 
 
 With the wolves came a gust of fresh air, 
 which added to the ardor of the home-defenders. 
 The battle with the wolves must have kept up 
 for hours. Every wolf in Windfall Valley seemed 
 to be a participant. But if so, not a single one 
 escaped with his life. 
 
 The "grandfather" wolf, a veritable giant 
 which usually led the pack was the last to ap- 
 pear, and the hardest to brain. He insisted on 
 forcing himself into the room, though his skull 
 had been cleaved at the door. With remarkable 
 vitality, he leaped about the room, snapping
 
 132 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 furiously. He buried his fangs in Little Canoe 's 
 hip before he was chopped to death. 
 
 With a free opening to outdoors, the released 
 captives made for the open through the tunnel 
 dug by the wolves. They did not wait to count the 
 dead wolves. Once outside in the snowdrifts, 
 with the clear moonlight shining down on them, 
 they offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. Wal- 
 lize, who was a renegade Roman Catholic and 
 hardened free-thinker, experienced a genuine 
 repentance. The Indians danced hysterically, 
 singing bits of hymns and rhapsodies they had 
 learned from the celebrated missionary Jemima 
 Wilkinson. 
 
 Then they became hungry and persuaded Wal- 
 lize to re-enter the cabin, and help them drag 
 the cooking utensils outside, to prepare for a 
 feast. By the moonlight it could be seen that 
 the cabin had been completely engulfed by hun- 
 dreds of tons of earth and timber, and had it 
 not been for the wolves the men would have 
 been slowly starved and smothered to death. 
 
 "What a shame it was to kill those wolves, 
 our deliverers, ' ' said Wallize, as he was helping
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 133 
 
 Little Canoe skin a young wolf apparently the 
 fattest of a very lean pack. 
 
 "It was wrong, especially as we Indians be- 
 long to the clan whose patron saint is the wolf, ' ' 
 replied the limping little Indian, "but what 
 were we to do ? The wolves dug us out, not be- 
 cause they wanted to save us, but because they 
 wanted to eat us." 
 
 Meanwhile Tallchief emerged from the tun- 
 nel, clapping his hands. 
 
 "Mister Wallize," he said, "I have happy 
 news for you, there are nearly three hundred 
 dead wolves in there; those with the hides we 
 had before bring the number almost to five hun- 
 dred, the amount you wanted. The wolves saved 
 our lives, and made us keep our promise to you. 
 They have surely blessed us." 
 
 Wallize smiled, and said, ' ' That is good news, 
 but I would have been satisfied with less wolves 
 this winter; it was hard to kill our saviors." 
 
 By this time the hind-quarters of the young 
 wolf had been roasted to a turn, and an enjoy- 
 able feast began. All agreed that they had 
 never enjoyed a meal as much before in all their
 
 184 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 lives. After eating, they sang more religious 
 songs. Then they all set to skinning the dead 
 wolves, Wallize shouting for joy every time one 
 was pulled from the pile, which was as high as 
 the roof of the cabin, declaring them to be finer 
 than the best Siberian pelts. After many 
 perils, all was ending well. With the last hide 
 peeled off, the men lay down for a much deserved 
 nap. They forgot to close the door to the tun- 
 nel, but if there were more wolves nigh, none 
 bothered them. 
 
 When they awoke, perfectly refreshed, Wal- 
 lize said that he was ready to set out his traps 
 again, he would stay in camp until he got his 
 required number of hides and until Zack Bang- 
 hart, the trapper, returned in April. 
 
 The Indians had another joyous scene among 
 themselves. "You are a real man, you are not 
 soft, we like to work for your kind," they said 
 in chorus. 
 
 The wolf hides on hand were then counted. 
 They numbered four hundred and one. 
 
 "That extra one must be the old 'grand- 
 father' that bit you so badly," said Wallize, 
 turning to Little Canoe, who laughed loudly as
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 135 
 
 he limped about the hut. The trapping went on 
 unmarred by disagreeable incidents for the bal- 
 ance of the winter, and when Banghart and his 
 horses appeared, true to agreement, the first 
 week in April, there were nearly a thousand wolf 
 pelts, and the furs of a thousand other animals, 
 bears, otters, beavers, all kinds of foxes, fishers, 
 martens, and wolverines to be packed to Jersey 
 Shore. These Wallize sold to good advantage 
 in Philadelphia. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, he removed to the foot 
 of the Blue Mountains, in Schuylkill County, 
 where he opened a general store. He had shown 
 pluck in fighting down all obstacles in the Black 
 Forest, but he did not desire to trap again. Prov- 
 idence had seen him through, he would not risk 
 it more. He was well over eighty when he died, 
 leaving many descendants, to all of whom he 
 delighted on cold evenings before a blazing fire 
 to describe his remarkable story of the winter 
 of the wolves.
 
 VII. 
 
 THE THREE RIVERS. 
 
 (A Legend of Potter County.) 
 
 UT on the Bell farm near New- 
 field, in Potter County, three 
 beautiful, crystalline springs 
 rise, not half a mile apart. 
 Their store of limpid water 
 never grows less, even in protracted dry spells 
 their temperature is the same at all seasons 
 of the year. So pure and lovely are they that 
 it would seem as if they came straight and un- 
 sullied from the heart of Mother Earth. For 
 centuries they have quenched the thirst of sav- 
 age, of white man, of wild and domestic beasts 
 and birds, and flowing through woods and pas- 
 tures been a blessing to the world. As they pro- 
 gress from their sources, they appear to grow 
 in strength as well as volume, they attract other 
 springs, rivulets, and cascades, and swelling into 
 maternity become majestic and useful rivers. 
 One grows to become the Genesee, which emp- 
 136
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 137 
 
 ties into Lake Ontario, thence into the St. Law- 
 rence River and Gulf of St. Lawrence, into the 
 North Atlantic; another develops into the Alle- 
 ghany, which runs into the Ohio, which in turn 
 is merged in the Red River, a tributary of the 
 Mississippi, which 'empties into the Gulf of 
 Mexico, while the third is known by the name 
 of Tiadaghton, and empties into the West 
 Branch of the Susquehanna, which flows into 
 Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, three 
 very remarkable, yet dissimilar destinies, though 
 they are lives filled with good deeds and honors. 
 
 The geographers and the historians never 
 bring out their books without a paragraph or 
 two devoted to the three springs on the Bell 
 farm, and how they became three great rivers. 
 Old and young have heard of them, but pass 
 over the subject as quickly as do the scientific 
 writers and history-makers. 
 
 Underneath the scientific facts and historical 
 basis, runs a quaint legend, which only the In- 
 dians repeated, because only the Indians cared. 
 A beautiful spot always conveyed more to these 
 children of the forests than mere physical beau- 
 ty they sought the soul underneath. They ad-
 
 138 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 mired a mountain not for its bigness, but for the 
 spiritual element it represented. When they 
 saw a person they admired, they were taught 
 to refrain from saying, "What a beautiful per- 
 son," but instead would inquire, "What is that 
 person's story, what has he done in his life that 
 is of interest ? ' ' And when they saw a beautiful 
 spot they at once asked what history was con- 
 nected with it, what legends of the unseen or 
 supernatural worlds clustered about it they 
 delved for its inmost meaning, which lasts long- 
 est. 
 
 It is a mistake to feel that romantic or even 
 supernatural things do not happen now. They 
 surely do, only we do not look for that side of 
 things these days. At least most of us don't. 
 From earliest childhood we have been taught to 
 doubt and disbelieve. What is within and un- 
 seen is called impossible. Even religion has 
 been questioned, but only because everything 
 else has been. Doubt has crept into every nook 
 and corner the faithful have had to hide them- 
 selves. They are ashamed of every underground 
 stream in their spirits. They are worse off than 
 the earliest professors of Christianity. But as
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 139 
 
 the legend of the three springs, which grow into 
 the three great rivers, concerns something which 
 we see, and which benefits us all, it may have 
 some excuse in this practical generation for be- 
 ing repeated in these pages. 
 
 Many, many years ago, when the Indian world 
 was new and mankind in closer touch with the 
 Gitchi-Manitto or the Great Spirit, than at the 
 present time, there dwelt on one of the highest 
 mountains in the Seneca country, a learned red- 
 man named Nahimen, or Sailor-Down-the- 
 Stream. He was strangely gifted with the power 
 of second sight in an age of soothsayers and wise 
 men. He saw so acutely into the future that it 
 caused him much pain. It was only when he 
 could interest himself in the affairs of every day 
 life, in commonplaces, that his soul would give 
 him any rest. But that was not often, as his 
 intellect had trained itself to introspection. 
 
 Loving the world and its people he could see 
 the wretched end of everyone, and it tinged his 
 thoughts and speech with sadness. The mystery 
 of why the Omnipotent permitted so much suf- 
 fering among the creatures of his world bowed 
 him with constant striving to unravel the un-
 
 140 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 knowable. It was all for the best he was sure, 
 he accepted the will of the Great Spirit, but with 
 an unforgettable sadness. 
 
 Early in life he met and loved the most beau- 
 tiful maid in the entire mountain country, the 
 delectable Pechamawayo, or Wild Red Plum. 
 The love was reciprocated, and the young couple 
 were joined together in bonds of happy matri- 
 mony. The union was an ideal one, not a cloud 
 to mar its harmony, and three little daughters 
 were born to tighter cement the bonds. 
 
 Then the fair Pechamawayo fell sick and died, 
 so quickly that nothing could be done to save 
 her. She vanished from the world like the love- 
 ly blossom of the Wild Red Plum does in the 
 month of May. Nahimen was heartbroken, but 
 he tried to bear his sorrow bravely. He had the 
 three little girls, that was more than was left 
 in many stricken homes he knew. He resolved 
 to cherish his wife 's memory by bringing up the 
 children as carefully as possible, to make them 
 worthy of the best in life. And the forces of 
 nature, or perhaps the Great Spirit, seeing this, 
 granted Nahimen power to converse with the 
 soul of his departed wife.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 141 
 
 While this seemed like a marvellous benefice, 
 it was not without its element of melancholy. 
 Pechamawayo, beyond the veil, knew the past, 
 present and future, but only passively. She 
 could not help in any way, though she knew the 
 certitude of evil destinies for her late friends 
 and those she loved. She could tell her knowl- 
 edge to her husband, but even he knew no way to 
 check inexorable fate. Maybe it was better to 
 have everything come unexpectedly as the Great 
 Spirit has arranged it for most of us. 
 
 But human nature wants to know what is be- 
 yond it is living generally in a happy or un- 
 happy tomorrow, generally the former state. 
 Nahimen with all his wisdom delighted in learn- 
 ing what was ahead, even though it came 
 through his dead wife's departed spirit, and 
 might not describe a comfortable future for his 
 loved ones. Had he not been of superior intel- 
 lect, he could not have obtained the boon of be- 
 ing in tune with the infinite. While he enjoyed 
 his intellectual pride, more truly fortunate were 
 the simple souls who could not tell one day 
 ahead. In that way, the Great Spirit is emi- 
 nently fair in dividing his favors. There is no
 
 142 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 class of the spiritually elect. Nahimen discussed 
 the futures of most of his friends and relatives 
 with the shade of his deceased wife. Every one 
 was destined to a miserable end, some would 
 meet it within a few hours or days of the revela- 
 tions. 
 
 There was one subject on which he longed to 
 touch, yet he feared to do so, and that was the 
 future of the three little girls whom he was car- 
 ing for so tenderly. In his heart of hearts, he 
 knew their fates could not be better than the 
 rest of humanity, yet unknowing he rejoiced in 
 the superficial opinion that calmness and joy 
 awaited them, that their lives would be prolong- 
 ed into dim, distant, uncountable years that 
 when they came to die it would be sought, and 
 like some gentle sleep. This was a blissful vis- 
 ion, only his heart told him it wouldn't come 
 true, and all the while the soul of Pechamawayo 
 knew and could tell him if he asked her. She 
 never volunteered any information he had to 
 ask her everything, but with cosmic sense she 
 never failed to give the exact answer. Some 
 day he would sum up courage and ask her how 
 the three little girls were to fare. If well, then
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 143 
 
 his hopes were confirmed ; if illy, then he would 
 be prepared, and he was bold enough to think 
 that perhaps in some way he might circumvent 
 the catastrophe, he could not grasp the full 
 meaning of the word inevitable. 
 
 All the while Pechamawayo knew that this 
 was on his mind, and she strove to influence him 
 as spirits do, to refrain from mentioning the 
 subject. Yet she knew when she answered him 
 that a part of his soul would refuse to believe 
 if it was unfavorable to the daughters' wel- 
 fare. The question of what was to happen to 
 the three girls, who were named Allie-gay-nay, 
 Gay-nay-sayo and Tya-dagh-tune, preyed on the 
 wise man's mind. It is said that every wise man 
 is a fool somewhere, and the future of the three 
 daughters certainly was Nahimen's most unphil- 
 osophic aspect. 
 
 At length, he made bold to ask the spirit of 
 Pechamawayo what was to become of the be- 
 loved girls. There was sadness in the phantom's 
 voice when she answered him. His disembodied 
 will was not as strong as his incarnate will, she 
 would have to divulge it all.
 
 144 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 So she told him that all would go well with 
 the fair creatures until they were almost out 
 of their teens, when they would fall in with evil 
 associates, becoming corrupted, polluted and 
 wretched. Their suffering would cause untold 
 grief to their parents who would be powerless 
 to help them. At the time of their downfall, 
 Pechamawayo declared that Nahimen would be 
 a resident of the spirit world. This looked as 
 if he would soon die. All this was more than 
 the truth-seeker could stand. Strong man that 
 he was, he fainted dead away. 
 
 When he was unconscious the spirit of his 
 father, who had been dead for many years, ap- 
 peared to him. In his trance, he asked the 
 venerable redman what, if anything, could be 
 done to save the three girls from the horrible 
 fate that the soul of their mother predicted. The 
 shade pointed a way and when Nahimen came 
 to his senses, there was a smile on his face. The 
 shock of so much bad news, followed by the 
 solution received in a trance, made Nahimen 
 very ill. He lay in his lodge house for many 
 weeks suffering from a consuming fever. De- 
 spite this, he was not irrational. He had a
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS H5 
 
 single fixed purpose to get well and save his 
 daughters from lives of dishonor and loathsome 
 misery. He was so anxious to get well that it 
 retarded his recovery. It took all his force as 
 a man of science and intellect to get him back 
 on his feet again. 
 
 When he was again able to summon his wife's 
 spirit before him, he asked her how he could save 
 the young girls from their awful predestination. 
 Pechamawayo 's shade replied that there was 
 only one way, to have them changed into other 
 and less corruptible forms, a tree, a rhododen- 
 dron bush, a rock, a river. 
 
 Nahimen liked the river idea best, a stream 
 flowing on practically forever, watering and fer- 
 tilizing a broad land, and causing prosperity and 
 comfort to untold numbers of beings. And three 
 daughters, might they not become three rivers? 
 
 Pechamawayo replied that it could easily be 
 done. Nahimen 's bosom swelled with pride. It 
 would be hard to lose the companionship and in- 
 tellectual sympathy of the young girls, but now 
 they would become immortals, saints of bounty 
 and goodness.
 
 146 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Then his wife's shadowy reflection explained 
 carefully how the change could be made. It 
 would be quick and painless, first of all. That 
 was good news. She went on to say that there 
 was an aged sorceress, named Alliakquot, or 
 Land Rain, who in early Spring and late Fall 
 crossed over the high mountain where Nahimen 
 lived. In some way she was allied with the 
 Spirit of Spring Showers and the Spirit of the 
 Equinox; her kinship with these great forces 
 was very close. It was too late to see her that 
 year, but she would be back in. the Spring, after 
 the first warm day following the melting of the 
 snow. He would know by her bent body, her 
 dripping hair, and from the fact that she had 
 a bunch of Mayflower or Arbutus tied to her 
 long staff. 
 
 Nahimen was comforted. He settled down to 
 make the most of his last winter with his daugh- 
 ters. They were growing wonderfully in every 
 way, their spiritual natures were developed far 
 beyond those of girls of their ages. But into 
 the midst of this blissful state came the question 
 as to whether he should inform the girls what 
 was to be done with them when Spring came.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 147 
 
 Should the news be broken, or wait until old 
 Alliaquot put in an appearance? What if the 
 girls objected to the procedure of being changed 
 into rivers ? Was it right to keep the facts from 
 them? They might kill themselves or run away 
 if they heard it. If they committed self-destruc- 
 tion, they lost their souls; if they ran off and 
 drifted into evil ways, their souls would be de- 
 stroyed. Their souls must be saved. 
 
 Yet before keeping up the deception longer, 
 he decided to consult with the shade of Pecha- 
 mawayo. His wife 's spirit at once told him that 
 he must tell the girls without delay. She knew 
 that they would be pleased, they had beautiful 
 souls, the idea would appeal to them. They had 
 not the selfish, earthly idea of the preservation 
 of the individual consciousness at any cost, they 
 were living for the general good of the world, 
 and would gladly merge their souls into some 
 grand cosmic purpose like a river. 
 
 This high estimate of the young women was 
 gratifying to Nahimen, and he questioned no 
 more. The next morning, before breakfast, he 
 called his daughters about him, and told them 
 what their mother's spirit had prophesied, but
 
 148 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 that they could escape all the horror and degra- 
 dation by being changed into some less personal 
 force. He mentioned trees, rocks, streams, add- 
 ing that he preferred the idea of streams, they 
 did so much good for the world. 
 
 The daughters accepted all this talk with 
 equanimity. They were very sensible beings, 
 and knew that their mother's spirit spoke from 
 a land where the future is an open book. But 
 it was distressing to leave this beautiful world, 
 to cast away their consciousness, which enabled 
 them to appreciate the wonders about them; to 
 become instead existing but unthinking forms. 
 But as rivers, they would forever help life and 
 the world, it would be a noble destiny, it was a 
 privilege to embrace it. But Tya-dagh-tune, 
 most spirited of the trio, was the least pleased. 
 
 "Father," she said, "I appreciate that your 
 talks with our mother's wraith have revealed 
 our complete destinies what you have heard is 
 very terrible it seems unbelievable to girls of 
 our simple, exemplary lives but from the Infi- 
 nite we know there can be no mistake all there 
 is an actuality. However, if we are to become 
 degraded and polluted, will we not become so
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 149 
 
 as rivers, just as we would be continuing in 
 our present shapes? Ponder over that." 
 
 Nahimen listened attentively, and then made 
 reply. "Your words show great sagacity, Tya- 
 dagh-tune, but I cannot believe that a river can 
 become degraded or polluted. Think of the fair 
 land it must flow through, the forests, fields, or- 
 chards, vineyards, the lowlands grown to the 
 water's edge with blue flags and reeds, the pas- 
 toral people, the hunters, the wild game, the 
 water-birds, the graceful canoes, and the silver- 
 coated fish that will float like jewels on your 
 bosom. It is unthinkable to me. Besides your 
 mother said that an evil fate could be prevented 
 by such a change." Then he was silent. The 
 fair girls bowed their heads in acquiescence. 
 They kissed their father and no more was said. 
 They cheerfully waited for the coming of old 
 Alliaquot, who would change them into three 
 beautiful, beneficent rivers. 
 
 The winter was a severe one, yet it passed 
 quickly for Nahimen and his daughters. It 
 passed too quickly to suit the father, as he knew 
 that this would be the last winter he would ever 
 pass with them in their present forms. He hoped
 
 160 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 that the snow would not melt, that the cold 
 weather might continue indefinitely. But the 
 inevitable thaws came, the days gradually grow- 
 ing warmer. At length, came a day, as close 
 and, humid as midsummer. The sun was par- 
 tially obscured by haze. About noon, just after 
 the girls had prepared dinner, he noticed an 
 aged woman coming up the path. She was bent 
 and shrivelled, and helped herself along by lean- 
 ing on a high staff, on the top of which was tied 
 a rich spray of pink Arbutus. Nahimen was 
 overcome by conflicting emotions. The woman 
 who would save his daughters from degradation 
 was coming, but she would also make him lose 
 their fair, fresh faces forever. The girls were 
 calling him to dinner, but he sat transfixed, 
 watching the old hag draw near. When she 
 came opposite to him, he got up, and she 
 stepped forward to greet him. 
 
 "Nahimen, you are, I believe," said the old 
 woman, shaking her wet head and holding out 
 her bony hand. 
 
 "How did you know my name?" queried the 
 Indian considerably surprised.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 161 
 
 "I was told by some friends in the unseen to 
 stop, that you had a task for me to perform. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Yes, it is true, ' ' said Nahimen. ' ' But won 't 
 you first have some meat with us ? " 
 
 "No, I thank you," replied the witch, "I 
 cannot work my spells on a full stomach. ' ' Then 
 she wiped her wet brow, and sat down on the 
 bench, apparently very tired. "And, please, 
 good Nahimen, tell your girls not to eat, I cannot 
 work my spell on them if their stomachs are 
 full." 
 
 The Indian went around the house, to where 
 the girls were bending over a fire cooking corn- 
 bread and told them that they must not eat. 
 
 "Then Alliaquot is here" they said together. 
 
 ' ' She has come ' ' answered the father, his voice 
 full of emotion. He beckoned the girls to follow 
 him, so they went to the front of the cabin where 
 the old woman was seated. She smiled grimly 
 when she saw them; it was the smile of an exe- 
 cutioner. 
 
 "What beautiful girls you are," she said, ad- 
 dressing them with her coarse, gurgling voice. 
 Then she turned to Nahimen, "I have come a 
 long ways," she said, "I have a long distance to
 
 152 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 go to-night, let us be through with what I have 
 to do here. ' ' 
 
 "Now not right away?" inquired Nahimen. 
 
 ' ' The present moment is the best time. Where 
 would you have the three springs which will 
 form the three rivers, ' ' she said. 
 
 "It is sad that this must be, but it is for the 
 best," answered Nahimen. "Right near my 
 lodge-house, where I have lived these many 
 years, that would be the best place." 
 
 The old woman rose to her feet, and made a 
 pass in the air with her staff. The clear sky 
 became dark. Drops of water, tears of the 
 clouds, began to fall. Nahimen took the fair 
 Allie-gay-nay by the hand and led her to a se- 
 questered nook, old Alliaquot following. When 
 they reached the spot the witch placed her hand 
 on the girl's head. The rain drops began to fall 
 more heavily, the outlines of the fair girl began 
 to liquefy. She became transparent like a ghost 
 or water-sprite. Nahimen stood motionless watch- 
 ing her fade away. Soon she lost all semblance 
 to human form, becoming like a small fountain 
 or bethesda. She speedily became smaller and 
 smaller, and then spread out until she was a
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 158 
 
 sweet spring, purling out from the rocks beneath 
 a giant hemlock tree. 
 
 Then the old woman turned and led the dazed 
 parent back to the lodge house. Arriving there, 
 she took Gay-nay-sayo by the hand, and with 
 Nahimen following, wandered to another fair 
 spot. There she turned the maiden into a 
 spring, or source, as she had done with Allie-gay- 
 nay. The sight of his second daughter lost to 
 him was a hard blow for Nahimen to bear. But 
 it was harder when he saw the third and last one, 
 Tya-dagh-tune, gone from him forever. Yet in 
 a sense he had triumphed over a great element 
 like Destiny, he had saved his daughters from 
 becoming the prey of scheming and wicked men. 
 
 When the task was completed, the rain was 
 falling in a perfect torrent. Nahimen asked the 
 old witch to spend the night in his now desolated 
 home, but she thanked him, and said she must be 
 on her way. She had to cross the mountain that 
 night. 
 
 After a night, which was one of mingled sad- 
 ness and triumph, Nahimen hurried in the early 
 morning light to the three springs. He found 
 them sweet and pure. When he bent over each,
 
 154 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 he saw the faces of his daughters reflected in 
 their limpid depths. They were not gone after 
 all. It was lovely to see them as rivulets 
 bubbling over the rocks and running into brooks, 
 which gradually swelled in volume into dancing, 
 sparkling torrents. Fascinated, he followed 
 them, one by one, as they bounded over 
 their new-made beds, increasing in volume and 
 force as they rushed along. The three girls were 
 now the three rivers, later called the Alleghany, 
 the Genesee, and the Tiadaghton. Nahimen lived 
 at his lonely lodge-house many years. He felt the 
 companionship of his daughters-of-water, as at 
 night he lay on his couch of buffalo hides, listen- 
 ing to them singing their joyous lays over their 
 mossy beds. They seemed so happy and con- 
 tented, that he rejoiced at his foresight in saving 
 them from pollution and consequent misery. 
 When he died, at the age of a hundred and ten 
 years, his sorrowing relatives buried him on 
 the highest point of the mountain on the "back- 
 bone ' ' of the range, near where the three springs 
 rose. 
 
 Years passed, possibly several thousand years, 
 and the three rivers amply fulfilled their destiny
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 166 
 
 of cheer and helpfulness. Free from pollution, 
 they were a benison to every redskin's heart. 
 They brought prosperity, comfort, freedom from 
 care to all who lived near their strand. But 
 then the white men came, spreading like some 
 cutaneous disease over the fair face of mother 
 earth. They levelled and burned the fragrant 
 forests of pine, beech, and hemlock, they killed 
 the Indians or herded them in narrow spaces 
 called reservations, they slaughtered the wild 
 beasts and birds without mercy, they blew the 
 fish to atoms with their dynamite, they trampled 
 the wild flowers, they seemed bent on making 
 the Black Forest a scene of untold gloom and 
 desolation. They erected huge, hideous build- 
 ings which they called sawmills, tanneries, dyna- 
 mite works, acid factories, and pulp-mills, all 
 along the three beautiful rivers, the Alleghany, 
 the Genesee, and the Tiadaghton, the three rivers 
 which were once the daughters of the sage 
 Nahimen. And from the tops of these unsightly 
 piles of lumber and iron poured forth foul smoke 
 and vapor, which blackened the atmosphere, and 
 from their foundations gushed red, green, blue 
 and yellow poisons, called waste, a stench to the
 
 156 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 air, which polluted and befouled the streams, 
 making black sediment on their bottoms, killing 
 fish, and making the water unfit for use. 
 
 And the three fair rivers shrunk with wound- 
 ed pride, for they realized that after all, the will 
 of the Great Spirit could not be thwarted, even 
 after thousands of years. They realized that the 
 efforts of their good father Nahimen, or the 
 Sailor-Down-the-Stream, were in vain their 
 destiny was to be polluted in some form or other, 
 and their happy songs ceased at night. Those 
 who hear them, now say that their singing re- 
 sembles a dirge as they turn dirty water wheels 
 of foul bubbling fluid, and the burden of their 
 song is "Great is the will of Gitchi-Manitto, the 
 Omnipotent, who takes from us our high estate, 
 but we submit, we are resigned to pollution and 
 degradation, as it proves to us His might, great 
 is the will of the Maker of All Things." 
 
 The few Indians who remain alone care and 
 are sad. Often they drop a tear into the turgid 
 waters of the now shrunken, odoriferous rivers, 
 which sing them their story. From them, they 
 realize how little is life, how futile is hope, how
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 157 
 
 everything is nothing compared to the inexorable 
 where ten thousand years are as a drop of wa- 
 ter on the sands of time and three rivers but as 
 a dream.
 
 VIII. 
 
 A STORY OF REGINA. 
 (Another Fragment of the Popular Legend). 
 
 t was on one of those delightful 
 trips with the late Thomas 
 Simcox, of beloved memory, 
 that the writer was introduced 
 to an old gentleman who was 
 able to furnish another word on the subject 
 of Regina Hartman, thus adding to a legend 
 which is to Pennsylvania folklore what Ticon- 
 deroga is to the Scotch, the Headless Horseman 
 to the Germans. On this occasion, we were 
 tramping to Leetonia, over the mountains, 
 on a warm, sunshiny day in early September. 
 The distance seemed further than anticipated. 
 We always expected to see the little lumber town 
 lying at the foot of the next high ridge to be 
 crossed, but it was always one ridge further on. 
 As the afternoon drew to a close, the sky became 
 paler, but more faultlessly blue, the trees on the 
 summits and in the deep hollows where the sun 
 168
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 159 
 
 had ceased to shine, darker and more distinct in 
 outline. The odor of the pine was more notice- 
 able, and also that damp mossy smell, which 
 exudes from brooks which flow in heavy shade. 
 The tinkle of the distant cow-bells was the only 
 audible sound from nature's late siesta. On the 
 very top of a high ridge, which rose from the op- 
 posite side of the ravine, separating us from it, 
 we could make out a small clearing, apparently 
 planted with buckwheat. Upon a second glance, 
 we noticed, well concealed by trees, a tiny log 
 cabin. 
 
 "That's where the old prospector, 'Daddy' 
 Portzline, lives," said our companion. 
 
 The writer ventured that though it was an in- 
 spiring place to reside, he wondered if water 
 would not be difficult to obtain on the comb of 
 such a bold mountain top. The old mountain- 
 man smiled and said that it was as the Indians 
 used to put it, "If you cut your head, blood 
 will flow just as quickly as if you cut your foot. ' ' 
 Thus it conies that water can be drawn on a 
 mountain top. Our road led across the ridge 
 near the old prospector's home, and as we toiled 
 towards it, perspiring even in the cool air of the
 
 160 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 late afternoon, it seemed like a pleasing place to 
 tarry a while when the summit was gained, be- 
 fore climbing down the mountain to Leetonia. 
 "With this beacon ahead, the climb did not seem 
 so hard or so long. Our companion had pros- 
 pected with old man Portzline, and seemed an- 
 xious to meet him again and renew the acquaint- 
 ance. The old fellow had only moved to the 
 mountain top a year or two before, having gotten 
 too old to dig for the hidden treasures of the 
 Alleghanies, which were principally fireclay, 
 coal, bluestone and marble. Previous to that, 
 he had boarded with different families, but now 
 when past sixty, he was to have a home of his 
 own. An old-time wolf hunter and pigeon 
 trapper had made the clearing over half a cen- 
 tury before, and after he had moved further 
 west, it had been occupied by divers hunters, 
 fishermen, and bark-peelers, so that the young 
 growth of trees had not been given a chance to 
 overrun it. Several of the old prospector's 
 friends had helped him put it in order, so that 
 the work was not greater than the result. All 
 this our companion was recounting as we toiled 
 up the steep path, which had once been a trail
 
 THE PANTHER CLIFFS
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS J61 
 
 road for logs and bark-teams. The higher we 
 climbed, the cooler became the atmosphere, so 
 that we had every promise of a refreshing rest 
 when we gained the top. And our companion 
 kept repeating that there was a very cold well 
 by the house, which was most gratifying after 
 the tepid water carried in our army canteen. 
 When we emerged into the clearing, we found 
 the old prospector sitting on a dry-goods box, 
 beside his cabin door, smoking his corn-cob pipe. 
 He seemed to be musing and half-dreaming over 
 the expansive view which stretched out before 
 him. He must have been on the highest knob, 
 as all the other mountains lay below him in the 
 vast panorama. It was enough to make anyone 
 feel content, that the rest of the world was 
 petty and very far away! A guinea fowl gave 
 the first notice of our approach, but the alarm 
 was soon taken up by a small, shaggy black dog. 
 Old Portzline looked up quickly, and seeing us, 
 smiled brightly through his rusty spectacles, 
 which half hid his keen blue eyes. The greeting 
 between the two old men was of a most cordial 
 nature. Portzline seemed overcome to think that
 
 162 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 his fellow prospector of other days would seek 
 him out in his eyrie, and bring a friend along. 
 
 ' ' No, you must not go to Leetonia this evening, 
 you've got to spend at least one night with me 
 here. I'd tell you there was small-pox down 
 there, rather than let you go. ' ' 
 
 This was certainly a pressing invitation to re- 
 main, but our companion waited to see if we 
 cared to do so before definitely accepting. When 
 we signified our intention of remaining, there 
 was much gratification expressed by both elder- 
 ly men. 
 
 Soon from the little back kitchen came the 
 savory odor of frying ham, eggs and potatoes, 
 and the sound of the coffee-grinder. The two 
 prospectors conversed together in the kitchen, 
 while we seated ourselves on the dry-goods box 
 to enjoy the commanding view. Every knob 
 and ridge was clearly outlined in the fading 
 golden light, and some of the more distant 
 ranges were already assuming the lavender tint 
 that comes just before the dusk. The Bald 
 Eagle Mountains, from whence we had come, 
 showed up well in the array of mountain chains. 
 We need not be ashamed of the "dark and som-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 163 
 
 bre hills" which threw up their proud battle- 
 ments so close to our home. What was left of 
 the Black Forest, stretched like a black-green 
 carpet over the mountains to the West and 
 North, its limits clearly defined by the light 
 green, or brown slashings on the ridges nearer to 
 us. Off to the West, Mount Pipsisseway was 
 not lost, and still held the honor of being the 
 last to bid good-night to the setting sun. 
 
 As the sun sunk lower to the confiding moun- 
 tain, where it would at length hide its face, a 
 dry chilliness seemed to rise from every draft 
 and ravine. The tinkle of the cow and sheep 
 bells grew louder; we could hear a cow bawling 
 somewhere, and the faint echo of a dog's bark 
 like an excited dog does when chasing cattle 
 homeward. But these sounds were very small 
 and faint compared with the vast expanses of 
 country, where all was steeped in evening's 
 tranquility. We heard a single birdsong, a wood 
 robin's "spray of bell-like notes" over near the 
 shady well. A lonely grasshopper set up a 
 chirping in the weeds near our feet. 
 
 Old Portzline came to the door, to interrupt 
 our meditations, with the news that supper was
 
 164 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ready. And what a good supper it was ! Mem- 
 ory carries recollections of few meals through 
 the years, but this was one of those that is un- 
 forgotten after fifteen years. Oh, joyous days, 
 when we never knew what worry was. With 
 more developed intellect, we are happier now, 
 but dull care, an uncongenial companion, is here 
 to remain until the end. 
 
 During the meal, our companion took pains 
 to explain that his friend was much interested in 
 the history of Central Pennsylvania, and es- 
 pecially in the old, unwritten legends. This 
 seemed to please Daddy Portzline, like it did 
 most aged people whom we met in those days. 
 Let it be said that the older generation in the 
 Pennsylvania mountains dearly loved and were 
 anxious to have preserved their fast vanishing 
 folk-lore. Thus it was that they clung to and 
 pasted into scrap-books, Bibles or even the blank 
 leaves of cook-books, the few legends which at 
 that time had found their way into print the 
 stories relating to Ole Bull and his castle, the 
 last elk, Cornplanter 's Ring, the Bald Eagle 
 silver mines, and the like, which industrious 
 writers in the "Grit," the "Utica Globe" and
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 165 
 
 other widely-read papers turned into such really 
 popular stuff, that it was republished so many 
 times as to be overdone. The writer of this story 
 was criticized by one country newspaper when 
 his first little volume of legends appeared eleven 
 years ago, because he attempted to re-tell some 
 of these popular, but too well-known tales. 
 
 The old prospector went on to say that he had 
 always been interested in history, but especially 
 that of the Indians. He had been born in a little 
 log cabin near the site of Pomfret Castle in 
 Snyder County, where in the ancient days one 
 Hugh Mitcheltree had been carried off scream- 
 ing and yelling by six Indians in the presence of 
 a well-armed but badly scared garrison. His 
 parents were natives of Schuylkill County, in 
 the Blue Mountains, and his mother was a niece 
 of the celebrated Regina Hartmen, ''the Ger- 
 man Captive." 
 
 This was wonderful information. The story 
 of Regina had thrilled our youthful heart in 
 school days, and although noted historians like 
 Dr. S. P. Heilman and Rev. A. Stapleton have 
 pretty well exploded the old-time version by this 
 time, we will give Daddy Portzline's account,
 
 166 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 firmly believing that it can be nothing else but the 
 truth. We showed considerable interest in what 
 the old man was saying, especially when we told 
 him that this "captive girl" was our favorite 
 heroine in all the romances of Pennsylvania 
 history. This pleased him mightily, and he arose 
 from the table and went to an old cupboard 
 which looked as if it had first done duty in some 
 Snyder County farmhouse. 
 
 Opening the glass doors, he fumbled about in 
 the growing darkness, until he found a brown, 
 wrinkled, pasteboard-covered book, in size 
 probably four by three inches. Opening it at 
 the flyleaf, he beckoned us to come to the door 
 where the light w r as stronger. We quickly fol- 
 lowed and he held the book so we could see 
 written on the inside of the front cover, in 
 faded, trembling English characters, yellow with 
 age, "Regina Hartmann, from Anders Boon, 
 1769." 
 
 "This book," he said, holding it out proudly, 
 after we had read the inscription, ' ' was given to 
 my great-aunt by her lover, Lieutenant Boon, 
 who was killed at the awful massacre at Fort 
 Freeland in 1779. It is in the Swedish language.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 167 
 
 It is a Catechism of Archbishop Suebilius, and 
 though it has no date, it was published in Stock- 
 holm for the Swedes in Pennsylvania probably 
 during the early part of the Eighteenth Cen- 
 tury. It does not seem likely that Aunt Regina 
 spoke Swedish, or that Captain Boon could very 
 much either, but he came of the Swedish stock, 
 that settled in Eastern Berks County at a very 
 early day, and the little book was more of a love- 
 token than a brief of religious instruction. 
 
 "In our family we always had it that Daniel 
 Boone was of the Swedish race. He was tall and 
 fair like the Norsemen, he could speak Swedish 
 and German like a native. His father's real 
 name was Sven Boon, English historians called 
 him 'Squire Boon' but I know differently, be- 
 cause I came from the old stock. Regina Hart- 
 man was kidnapped by Indians in 1755. Her 
 father and brother and one sister were killed at 
 the time. One sister, Mary, was kidnapped with 
 her. This girl the Indians killed for some un- 
 accountable reason. The mother and sisters, 
 Barbara and Margaret, one of who was my 
 grandmother, escaped. They were absent from 
 home at the time.
 
 168 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 "The kidnapping occurred at Hartman's 
 Spring, near the present town of Orwigsburg in 
 Schuylkill County. That story of Regina's 
 being rescued out of a line of captives at Car- 
 lisle, by her mother at the instance of Col. Henry 
 Bouquet, by singing a German song refers to 
 some other Regina. My great aunt escaped from 
 the Indians even before they saw that they were 
 beaten, and was escorted home by a friendly In- 
 dian named Galasko. She was eighteen years 
 of age when she came home, having been born 
 in 1746. She was blue-eyed, blonde and very 
 beautiful. The Indian who escorted her, was 
 the nephew of the old squaw Talala, or White 
 Cedar, who had been her foster mother during 
 her captivity. 
 
 ''When peace was declared, he was on friend- 
 ly terms with the Provincial forces, and was 
 trusted with his fair companion, at least from 
 Harris' Ferry to Orwigsburg. It is interesting 
 to learn how he first became concerned in Re- 
 gina. Old Talala treated her cruelly, treated 
 her own children cruelly for that matter; she 
 seemed to take a pleasure in hearing them 
 screaming. She beat the poor white girl repeat-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 169 
 
 edly when she failed to bring into the village a 
 sufficient quantity of berries, nuts, or medicinal 
 herbs and roots. On one occasion the squaw was 
 maltreating the beautiful girl in a particularly 
 brutal manner. This was too much for the 
 chivalrous Galasko, who appeared on the scene 
 at that moment. He seized the ironwood staff 
 from the old woman's hand, and broke it across 
 his thigh. In the excitement, the squaw claimed 
 that the young warrior had knocked her down. 
 This he stoutly denied, but he became unpopular 
 in the camp, and withdrew to the woods becom- 
 ing a wandering hunter. But he always kept 
 his eye on Regina, and at rare intervals met 
 her clandestinely in the depths of the forest. 
 Talala suspected this, and made her own daugh- 
 ters spy on the girl. 
 
 "When she had the proper evidence, she 
 confronted the girl, who was the very soul of 
 truthfulness, and she confessed. For this she 
 was horribly beaten, and kept in semi-captivity 
 until released. Galasko learned the story from 
 a renegade Indian, who was about the camp at 
 the time, and though he dared not put in an ap- 
 pearance, he kept within an easy radius of the
 
 170 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 place where his sweetheart was confined. At 
 last, he could stand the suspense no longer, so 
 one dark night he broke into the village, mur- 
 dering several Indians but ultimately making 
 off with Regina. He placed her in a waiting 
 canoe on the North Branch, near Nanticoke. 
 
 ' ' Two months later peace was declared, and he 
 at once journeyed down the river with his prize, 
 and handed her over to the authorities. He was 
 well-known as an expert shot, and a thorough 
 guide in the wilderness, consequently his ap- 
 pearance was greeted with friendly acclaim. 
 Previously, in Col. Conrad Weiser's lifetime, he 
 had been praised for his honesty and skill in 
 woodcraft, consequently he was no stranger to 
 those in charge of the Colonial Headquarters. 
 He was instructed with escorting Regina to her 
 mother's home, and they traveled there on foot 
 along the summits of the Blue Mountains. 
 
 On the way the young Indian, who had always 
 been most reserved and decorous in his attitude 
 towards the lovely girl, declared his love. She 
 told him that she had loved him, if not from the 
 first time she saw him, which was probable, at 
 least from the day when he had first interfered
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 171 
 
 in her behalf, when she was being roughly treat- 
 ed by old Talala. She would marry him gladly 
 if her mother gave her consent. She had good 
 reason to believe that her parent still lived, and 
 she said she wanted to atone for her long absence 
 by some years of devotion. However, she had 
 found love of a different kind, but in order to be 
 fair to both sides, her mother's consent would 
 have to be granted. She knew that if she mar- 
 ried him, she would have to go away with him. 
 
 From German people with whom she con- 
 versed, she had learned that Indians were still 
 very unpopular along the 'Blauen Bergen ;' an 
 [ndian married to a white girl would be sub- 
 jected to all kinds of annoyances, and ostracism. 
 Several Indians with white wives had been mur- 
 dered by Irish boys. Galasko might be the next. 
 The erstwhile warrior wanted to lead a peaceful 
 existence, besides the Blue Mountain country 
 was too thickly settled to suit him as a perma- 
 nent abode. He would risk obtaining her moth- 
 er's sanction, and if obtained, he would take her 
 into the wild Sinneniahoning or 'Stony Lick' 
 country, where few white men had ever pene- 
 trated. On their way, they spent a night with
 
 172 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 the celebrated Dolly Hope, widow of Dietrich 
 Snyder, who still lived in the old fort which was 
 situated at the very summit of the Blue Moun- 
 tain, above the present town of Schubert. It 
 was a commanding position, giving a view of the 
 Swatara, Snyder, Panther, as well as the Tulpe- 
 hocken and Schuylkill Valleys. 
 
 Dolly Snyder was surprised to find that the 
 long-absent Regina had grown to be such an at- 
 tractive young woman. She praised her for her 
 beauty and charm, telling her that she should 
 be a great lady like her name, which was that 
 of a queen and not a simple backwoods maid. 
 She told how old 'Mammy' Hartman hated the 
 Indians, how she had grieved for her during 
 her absence, and that when peace was declared, 
 the good old soul had ridden on horseback to 
 Harris's Ferry, Reading, Maxatawney and 
 Heidelberg, asking questions and scanning the 
 faces of returned prisoners. Regina thought it 
 strange that no one at Harris's Ferry had men- 
 tioned to her that her mother had been there, 
 perhaps there was some mistake in identity 
 marked against her on the records.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 173 
 
 Dolly Snyder was shrewd enough to guess 
 that the Indian escort loved the girl. There was 
 fervor in her voice when she wished the young 
 people Godspeed on their departure in the morn- 
 ing. Dolly Snyder lived to the advanced age of 
 one hundred and fifteen years, and her grave is 
 not far from Regina's in the ancient Lutheran 
 Cemetery in Stouchsburg, Berks County. When 
 Regina and Galasko reached the Schuylkill, they 
 had a practical example of the lingering hostility 
 against the redmen. It was necessary to cross 
 the river, which was much too deep for wading. 
 An aged German who lived on the bank had a 
 neat canoe moored in front of his cabin. 
 
 The girl and her swarthy companion knocked 
 on the door, which was opened by the churl, and 
 she asked him politely in German if he would 
 ferry them across. 
 
 The German, with his eyes blazing in anger 
 and hate, exclaimed, 'I would gladly carry you 
 anywhere, my fair girl, but no damned Indian 
 shall ever ride in my boat. ' 
 
 Then he slammed the door in their faces. But 
 the wily Galasko was undaunted. He told Re- 
 gina to seat herself on the strand while he went
 
 174 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 to look for some other means of transportation. 
 Several hundred yards from where she sat, he 
 found a pine log, which had been washed down 
 the stream, and was held by some projecting 
 roots into which it had drifted. This he dragged 
 to where the girl was seated and told her to 
 stand erect on it. Then he pushed the butt off 
 from shore, and waded out after it until the 
 water became too deep, when he clambered on 
 board. He used a long pole to guide it, and 
 almost before they knew they were safe and 
 sound on the opposite bank. 
 
 Then they climbed the high mountain on the 
 far side of which lay the fair valley where the 
 former Hartman home had been located. Dolly 
 Snyder had told Regina that her mother had re- 
 built on the site of the old house, so that it 
 would not be hard to find. It had stood in an 
 open clearing which could be seen from the 
 mountains, but the chief landmark was an 
 enormous white pine tree, or as the Germans 
 called it a ' Bind baum, ' which shaded the cabin 
 and spring, and where the sweet-cooing and love- 
 making wild pigeons had loved to roost. When 
 the Indians burned the cabin, the tree had been
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 175 
 
 badly scorched, but its vitality was such that it 
 sent out fresh green needles, and apparently 
 was as much alive as ever. 
 
 When they reached the broad summit, the 
 familiar view brought tears to Regina's eyes. 
 There were few changes in the past nine years, 
 except that there was more cleared ground in 
 the valley, more settlers ' houses. The picturesque 
 "Red Church" which had been burned by the 
 Indians before Regina had been carried off was 
 replaced by a new and larger edifice. The giant 
 old pine rose in his accustomed place; in the 
 shadow of his sheltering branches, could be 
 noticed a trim log house, with the chinks white 
 plastered, presumably Mother Hartman's new 
 home. Regina could only exclaim, 'Wash-ock, 
 wash-ock,' the Indian word for the 'green tree.' 
 She had learned to think in the Indian language. 
 
 Many conflicting emotions stirred in Regina's 
 breast as she gazed on the scenes of her youth. 
 They were not all pleasurable, and she took her 
 companion's hand, holding it tightly. It was a 
 benighted existence she was returning to, little 
 better than she had left in the Indian village on 
 the North Branch, except that her mother was a
 
 176 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 kind, Christian woman. But the girl's sense of 
 duty soon asserted itself, and she realized how 
 her mother had suffered. Even if returning 
 home meant sending her lover, Galasko, adrift, 
 she would have the reward of a satisfied con- 
 science. It was this conscience that had made 
 her long to see her loved ones again, and not 
 drift into comparative savagery like another 
 Indian captive, Mary Jemison, the famous 
 'white woman of the Genesee, whose bronze 
 statue adorns Letchworth Park in New York 
 State. 
 
 A cool breeze stirred the red leaves of the 
 gum and maple trees on the summit where she 
 stood ; it was like a signal to commence the last 
 stage of her journey. At the foot of the moun- 
 tain, she passed through a large field of Indian 
 corn, dry and ready to be cut. In the centre of 
 this field stood an ancient white oak. 
 
 Regina suggested that the Indian remain there 
 until she had seen and interviewed her mother. 
 It might be disconcerting after Dolly Snyder's 
 warning, for her to enter the house after her 
 long absence accompanied by one of those hated 
 redmen. She would break the news gently that
 
 y . * : ' 
 
 . J Vv.< . -.- f 
 

 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 177 
 
 she wanted to marry an Indian, and if all was 
 well she would return to the field and escort the 
 prospective son-in-law to the Hartman cabin. 
 
 The Indian thought this a good idea, and 
 squatted down at the foot of the old oak, and 
 drew out his long pipe. Regina kissed him good- 
 bye. In her heart she knew that her mother 
 would never give her consent, it would even be 
 hard to break the news to her with such an an- 
 tipathy against redskins. But the first and only 
 consideration was the duty she owed towards the 
 old lady, it made everything else seem of minor 
 consequence. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when she climbed 
 the ' ' Indian fence, ' ' which surrounded the Hart- 
 man clearing. A trail of blue smoke was curling 
 up from the big chimney, indicating that supper 
 was being prepared. The family watch-dog, 
 which was resting under the great pine tree, es- 
 pied her, jumping up and shaking himself, and 
 barking angrily. The sound of his barking 
 brought 'Mammy' Hartman and her daughters 
 to the door. "With a quick glance, Regina could 
 see that her mother's hair, golden colored when 
 she went away, was now snow white, she looked
 
 178 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 like a woman seventy years of age. At first it 
 shocked her, but then she realized that apart 
 from her trials, women of the peasant class 
 aged early in life. 
 
 For a moment, the old woman could not iden- 
 tify the tall, slim, well-bred looking girl, who 
 was coming toward her. Suddenly, she uttered 
 a piercing cry in German/yMei Lieber Gott.' 
 Then she called to the dog to be quiet, and ran 
 forward. Regina and her mother were soon 
 locked in a loving embrace. They were both too 
 excited to go indoors, so they sat down on the 
 hewed logs which served as door-steps to the 
 cabin. Mother Hartman, Eegina, Barbara and 
 Margaret all wanted to talk at once. 
 
 There was much weeping, laughing and em- 
 bracing. The dog, noting that something un- 
 usual was in progress, made apologies for his 
 rudeness by crouching at Regina 's feet and 
 licking her skirts. 
 
 When the first flush of the excitement was 
 over, the mother held the girl at arm's length, 
 exclaiming, "How beautiful you are, how beau- 
 tiful you are, you resemble, oh so much, the won- 
 derful Countess of Falckensteyn and Bruck,
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 179 
 
 whom my mother admired so much as a little 
 girl. Her picture, a very little one, was the only 
 plaything I dared bring with me from the old 
 country, and now you have grown to be like her, 
 my ideal of loveliness." 
 
 The old woman's taste was correct, for Regina 
 was a paragon of girlish beauty. Her large full 
 eyes, which were her finest feature, were grey 
 in color, the lashes and brows black, and she 
 always kept the lids half closed. Her nose was 
 slender, aquiline in contour, her lips were full 
 and red, her complexion clear, her hair ashen 
 blonde, her slim, erect figure easy and graceful. 
 Peasant girl that she was, suffering and high 
 thinking had made her every inch a noble wo- 
 man, physically she was one of the few beings 
 who lived up to her soul. 
 
 Supper was almost forgotten, but at length 
 Regina said she was hungry, and it was hurried- 
 ly gotten ready and placed on the slab-table. 
 During the meal Mother Hartrnan asked Regina 
 if in all these years she had found a lover, for 
 early marriage was the rule with the working 
 classes. The beautiful girl flushed a guilty red. 
 She looked her mother full in the eyes for a
 
 180 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 moment, as if to ascertain how she would receive 
 the news that she was about to break. 
 
 "Yes, I have a lover, a splendid young man. 
 He is waiting even at this minute under a tree 
 in the cornfield until I have asked your per- 
 mission that I can become his bride. He is an 
 Indian. ' ' 
 
 At the word "Indian," the old woman 
 clutched at the edge of the table, missed her 
 hold, and fell against the water bench in a 
 swoon. Regina and Margaret picked her up, 
 and laid her on her couch. They fanned her, 
 threw water on her face, until she recovered. 
 
 When she opened her eyes, she looked at Re- 
 gina saying, "Is this what you have come home 
 for, my darling, to tell me that you would marry 
 a member of the horrible Indian race, who 
 killed your father, your little brother, your little 
 sister, burned our home and stole our belong- 
 ings?" 
 
 Regina 's worst fears were realized. Sobbing, 
 she sank down on the floor by the old woman, 
 and threw her arms about her. "No, no, no, I 
 would not give you more unhappiness. Much as 
 I love my brave and handsome Galasko I love
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 181 
 
 you more. You have suffered for many years, 
 now I intend to make you happy. I will send 
 my lover away." She rose to her feet, and 
 gazed out of the cabin door. It was almost 
 dark. "Mother," she said, "I must go to the 
 wood and send him away. ' ' 
 
 Before the old woman could restrain her, she 
 was gone. Galasko was still smoking when she 
 returned. He took the news philosophically. It 
 was a hard blow to him, yet knowing Regina's 
 strength of character, he must have been in a 
 sense prepared for it. But before they parted, 
 amid tender embraces, the Indian lover arranged 
 to meet her at the oak tree on the first night of 
 the new moon every month. Even if they could 
 never marry, they might continue a spiritual 
 communion. He would reach the trysting place 
 at noon, and wait there until she could slip 
 out unmolested, probably not until nightfall. 
 
 The Indian did not go many miles away. He 
 established himself on the summit of Broad 
 Mountain, which at that time was a rendezvous 
 for wolves, and commenced trapping them for 
 their hides, which sold for a shilling apiece. 
 There were many traders located at Harris'
 
 182 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Ferry and Fort Hunter; he could support him- 
 self nicely, and yet be in easy traveling distance 
 from his beloved. If he thought that sometime 
 she would change her mind and leave her mother 
 for him, he dropped no intimation. 
 
 Meanwhile, Regina settled down to a life of 
 worthy purpose. The only education she 
 possessed was taught her by her mother before 
 she had been carried off by the Indians ten years 
 before. As intimated before, she had almost for- 
 gotten the German tongue. She tramped across 
 the Mountains to Tulpehocken and enlisted the 
 aid of the Lutheran preacher, Reverend John 
 Nicholas Kurtz, in her efforts to educate herself. 
 He loaned her German and English books, prin- 
 cipally of a religious nature, and she set about 
 to teach herself, to master both languages. She 
 was devotion itself to her mother and sisters, 
 and to the children and old people of ttye neigh- 
 borhood. 
 
 When the time rolled around for her to meet 
 Galasko she was on hand. She had contrived to 
 obtain the privilege of going to the mountain 
 every afternoon for her mother's and some 
 neighbors' cattle. On the way she passed the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 183 
 
 oak tree, finding the philosophic Indian lover 
 sitting on its broad roots, smoking with charac- 
 teristic stolidity. There was an affectionate 
 greeting, they wandered over the mountain 
 slopes until dark, rounding up the cows. They 
 parted at the edge of the forest, filled with pro- 
 testations to meet the month following. All that 
 winter they met, and the following summer 
 clear into November. It was becoming harder 
 for both to part, and they were considering bi- 
 monthly meetings. 
 
 In November, three young and prepossessing 
 looking men from Exeter Township, in Berks, 
 stopped at the Hartman cabin on their way to 
 Bear Mountain on a hunting trip. They were 
 named Haakon, or ''Hawkins" Boon, Anders 
 Boon and Olle Derickson. The Boons, who were 
 cousins, were related by marriage to young 
 Derickson. 
 
 Anders, who was tall, fair and handsomest of 
 the three, immediately fell in love with Regina. 
 She was, he declared, the most beautiful woman 
 he had ever seen. The next morning he was loath 
 to leave her, but his companions urged him to 
 hold to his plans, and not spoil their trip. They
 
 184 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 persuaded him to go with them, but anyone 
 could have noticed his glumness at departing. 
 
 Four days later came the phase of the moon 
 which brought the faithful Galasko to the oak 
 tree. He arrived at the appointed time, and 
 sat down to enjoy his accustomed smoke pending 
 his sweetheart's arrival. 
 
 Just after Regina had left the house, Anders 
 Boon appeared at the door. He had become so 
 restless and unhappy that he had slipped away 
 from his companions, and returned to the scene 
 of the awakening of his great love. Mother 
 Hartman told him that her daughter had gone to 
 hunt the cows, and pointed to the path leading 
 to the forest which she usually took. Bounding 
 along like a deer, he overtook her just as she 
 climbed the fence which ran along the edge of 
 the woods. 
 
 Regina was never so disconcerted in her life 
 else she might have conducted the affair with 
 greater wisdom. She acted politely, and even 
 altered her course so as to pass as far from the 
 oak tree as possible. 
 
 But stoical though he seemed, Galasko pos- 
 sessed an Indian's eye and ear. He was a human
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 185 
 
 eagle. Also his acute sixth sense told him that 
 all was not well that day. Signs had come which 
 meant bad luck. A bird had flown into his shack 
 the night previously. There were too many 
 bubbles in the spring where he drank. When 
 he heard voices conversing in low tones, he 
 sprang to his feet, rifle in hand, a picture of 
 alertness and anger. He pushed his way through 
 the crackling grape vines and hazel bushes to 
 the clearing where he fancied the sounds ema- 
 nated, coming face to face with Regina, in com- 
 pany with a tall, good-looking white man with 
 blonde curly hair. His rage was so great that he 
 could have shot Anders Boon dead, and scalped 
 him then and there, had not the girl by a deft 
 movement, twisted the weapon away from him. 
 Then, in German, a language which all three 
 understood to a certain extent, she introduced 
 Boon to the Indian. 
 
 Galasko controlled himself, and the fiendish 
 blaze died out from the surface at least of his 
 grey eyes. He shook the white man by the 
 hand, exchanged a few pleasantries, then turn- 
 ing to Regina said he must be going.
 
 186 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 "Won't you help us hunt the cows this eve- 
 ning?" she said to placate him. 
 
 He replied that he had to be off, shaking 
 hands with Boon and the girl once more. Turn- 
 ing on his heel, he disappeared among the pines 
 in the gloaming, with hanging head, a tall and 
 melancholy figure. 
 
 The presence of this Indian, and his strange 
 conduct, brought young Boon's love to a 'boiling 
 point. ' On the hunt for the cows, he proclaimed 
 his passion in words even more fiery than 
 Galasko's declaration. Regina listened until he 
 was finished. They stood in an open space on 
 the mountain top, with the cows bearing their 
 tinkling bells, clustered about them. From 
 above, like a symbol of Galasko's love, shone the 
 new horned moon, Astarte of the Heavens. 
 
 It was an embarrassing position for the girl, 
 but she told the young man that she already loved 
 the Indian, that her mother had forbidden her 
 to marry a member of the bloodthirsty race who 
 had murdered three members of their family; 
 she had decided to obey her parent, but she 
 would never marry anyone else. She thanked
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 187 
 
 the youth for honoring her with his proposal, but 
 her heart was another's. 
 
 He asked her if there was any chance of her 
 changing her mind. She told him firmly that 
 there was not. He accompanied her home, and 
 helped her milk and stable the cows. Then sad- 
 ly he said goodbye. He did not go to join his 
 hunting companions, but started for the East 
 that same night. He would tramp until morning 
 to starve his grief, he said. 
 
 The next afternoon Regina revisited the oak 
 tree, but there were no signs of Galasko. For a 
 week she looked for him every day, but he did 
 not come. 
 
 At the end of that period, she met at the tree 
 a strange Indian youth, who called himself "Wap- 
 ashah, who was lolling and smoking like Galasko 
 had done. He told her that he had been sent 
 there to deliver a message from one who had 
 once been her lover, but was now her friend, an 
 Indian warrior. That she would never see him 
 again, that he had packed his belonging and was 
 moving far into the Western Country. That he 
 knew now why she would not marry him, that it 
 was because she had a white lover. That he for-
 
 188 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 gave her, but all was over between them. Then 
 Wapashah handed her a small piece of nugget 
 gold, saying that his friend had found it in the 
 bed of Bohundy Creek, and wanted her to take 
 it as a last remembrance. 
 
 Regina did not propose to lose her lover 
 through any misunderstanding. She told Wap- 
 ashah that it was all a mistake, that she had 
 only met the white man less than a week before, 
 had only seen him twice, that he had come to her 
 unexpectedly in the forest, that she loved 'the 
 Indian warrior' and no one else. She begged 
 him to meet her at the oak tree as of yore. 
 
 "Wapashah shook his head, saying that he was 
 afraid it would be too late to give the message, 
 as his friend had asked him to wait until he had 
 been gone on his journey for seven days before 
 visiting Regina. But he would try and overtake 
 him, nevertheless. He believed that she was 
 telling the truth, and nothing but the truth. 
 
 Wapashah started away, leaving the girl 
 dumbfounded, literally stunned with grief. She 
 could only question her policy in not having 
 married her lover in the beginning, now she had 
 lost him under the Imost distressing circum-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 189 
 
 stances. But she brought home the cows that 
 night, singing a German song, and outwardly as 
 gay as if nothing had happened. 
 
 All that fall and winter she worked, improv- 
 ing her mind, in addition to her domestic duties 
 and her attendance on the old and poor who re- 
 sided in the valley. She never missed a new 
 moon at the oak tree, but Galasko did not return. 
 Either Wapashah had not overtaken him or he 
 had chosen to disbelieve her plea of innocence. 
 
 During the summer she received another visit 
 from Anders Boon. He said he had decided to 
 swallow his pride and come again. He asked 
 after the Indian, and was told that he had not 
 been back. But Regina told him frankly that 
 there was no hope for anyone else. He remained 
 at the cottage for a week reading many books 
 with her, including John Arndt's 'Paradise 
 Garden. ' "When he went away, he said he would 
 be back in a year. 
 
 In the month of December, Regina received 
 another unusual visitor, a young artist named 
 Jons Gostasson, afterwards known as Jack Jus- 
 tice, the pupil of Benjamin West. Had he 
 lived it was predicted he would have become a
 
 190 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 second Hesselius. The youth said he had come 
 from Swedeland near Philadelphia. Anders 
 Boon , he said, had sent him to paint a miniature 
 of Begina on a smooth piece of Buffalo horn. 
 Boon had killed a monster bison on one of his 
 hunting trips on the Karoondinha, where these 
 beasts still lingered in considerable numbers, and 
 wanted the fair German girl's lovely features 
 perpetuated on it. The picture was completed 
 in a day, and the youthful artist took it away 
 with him, saying that the young huntsman de- 
 sired it in time for Christmas, as a present to 
 himself. 
 
 The following year when Boon came to visit 
 Regina, he showed her the picture, which he 
 wore in a gold locket suspended from a chain 
 about his neck. In a thoughtless moment, she 
 allowed him to cut off a small curl of her golden 
 hair, which he fastened inside of the locket. His 
 visits were made once a year, generally in mid- 
 summer. He was always welcomed, as he was 
 bright and congenial, and never afterwards at- 
 tempted to win her from her plighted troth. He 
 always brought presents, mostly books, among 
 them the Swedish Catechism.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 191 
 
 He was absent on a hunting trip on his beloved 
 Karoondinha, when the Revolutionary War 
 broke out, and hurried over to the West Branch 
 country where his relative Hawkins Boon, who 
 had become a land-owner there, was a captain 
 in the Rangers. Men capable of taking com- 
 mand were badly needed, and Capt. Boon 
 dubbed him Lieutenant, pending official orders 
 from headquarters. The similarity in names 
 caused the two men to become confused in history, 
 to the detriment of Anders Boon, whose name 
 cannot be found in the military records. But 
 he made a brave and sagacious leader, doing 
 most of Hawkins Boon's scouting. The two 
 Boons, Captain Samuel Dougherty, and their men 
 were quartered at Boon's Mill, on Muddy Run, 
 during the month of July, 1779. There seemed 
 to be a lull in the hostilities which had been 
 going on between the permanent settlers on one 
 side, and the Indians, renegade whites, and Eng- 
 lish on the other. 
 
 On the morning of the twenty-ninth of July, 
 the garrison at Boon's Fort, numbering about 
 thirty-three officers and men, heard firing at 
 Fort Freeland, about seven miles away. Com-
 
 192 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 manded by Captains Boon and Dougherty and 
 Lieutenant Anders Boon, the garrison hastened 
 to the scene of the conflict. The Indians, led 
 by Hiokatoo, later the husband of Mary Jemison, 
 and the ferocious Galasko, had just finished the 
 ransacking of the surrendered fort and the tom- 
 ahawking of the wounded. 
 
 Captain Ronald MacDonald, who commanded 
 the English, had gone down the river as escort 
 to the women and children. The savages had 
 seated themselves to enjoy a sumptuous repast 
 on the banks of the creek. In the midst of it, 
 the party from Boon's Fort surprised them, get- 
 ting within seventy-five or eighty yards of the 
 enemy, without being discovered. Each man 
 was cautioned to take sure aim, and when all 
 were ready, at a given signal they fired, and at 
 least thirty of the savages fell dead without a 
 moment's warning. 
 
 As soon as they could re-load they crossed the 
 bridge which spanned the creek, and made di- 
 rectly for the fort which they found manned by 
 determined Indians. An Indian brave, Machy- 
 nego, was holding the flag, and was shot dead 
 by Captain Dougherty.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 193 
 
 Another redman, Galasko 's friend Wapashah, 
 took the flag, and had no sooner got it erected 
 than Dougherty dropped him as he had the first. 
 Galasko, who was standing by, grabbed the ban- 
 ner from the dying Wapashah and, brandishing 
 a rifle in his other hand, dared the frontiersmen 
 to do their utmost. Before Dougherty could fire 
 again, he was shot dead by Hiokatoo, who was 
 standing close at hand, and he quickly shot Cap- 
 tain Hawkins Boon who took the place of the 
 fallen leader. 
 
 Anders Boon, his chance to command having 
 come, ran forward with a shout, his fair curls 
 flying about his hatless head. The smoke had 
 cleared for an instant, and he stood revealed to 
 his hated rival, Galasko. 
 
 "For God's sake, hold that flag a minute," he 
 called to Hiokatoo. The big red man, not know- 
 ing why, seized it ; as he did so, Galasko fired his 
 rifle. Anders Boon fell dead, shot through the 
 heart. 
 
 The three officers dead about them sent the 
 surviving rangers, numbering about a dozen, 
 into a panic; and they broke through their ene- 
 mies, and escaped into the thickets. Masters of
 
 194 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 the situation, the Indians set fire to the fort, and 
 it was burned to the ground. 
 
 Then the scalping and robbing of the dead 
 bodies commenced. Like a human eagle, Galasko 
 was soon bending over the prostrate form of 
 Lieutenant Anders Boon, eagle-like, tearing out 
 his eyes before he scalped him. He ripped the 
 clothing from his body, preparatory to cutting 
 out the heart. Around the smooth, white throat 
 hung a golden chain, at the end of which was 
 a closed locket. The excited Indian broke it 
 from the dead man's neck, and with his teeth 
 pried open the clasp. The calm and beautiful 
 face of Kegina Hartman looked up at him ; fast- 
 ened across the picture was a lock of her pale, 
 gold hair. 
 
 "By all the gods," shrieked Galasko, "she was 
 false after all. It was because of him she would 
 not marry me. That message she sent with Wa- 
 pashah was all lies." Then he proceeded to cut 
 out the dead man's heart.
 
 IX. 
 
 THE DEATH SHOUT. 
 (A Story of the Senecas.) 
 
 N Canfield's admirable book of 
 Indian legends the following 
 statement is made: "When an 
 Indian is dying on the field of 
 battle he is said to utter a cry 
 or 'Death Shout,' which is heard in Paradise, 
 and serves to let the friends whom he would 
 meet there know that he has started on the long 
 journey. In addition it was long a custom 
 amongst the redmen, particularly the Senecas, 
 to frequent rivers and high wooded places, or 
 ravines with steep, precipitous sides, where re- 
 verberations could be heard for miles until they 
 would die away in the distance. Here they 
 would stand for hours, shouting and listening 
 as the echoing sounds leaped from shore to 
 shore, or from hill to mountain and from moun- 
 tain to valley on and on into silence; always 
 firmly believing that the words were called from 
 
 195
 
 196 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 one to another of the faithful spirits until they 
 reached the ears of their loved ones and finally 
 the Great Spirit himself." 
 
 It was in the breaking of a log jam, in the 
 spring of 1864, at the mouth of Moshannou 
 Creek, that a young Indian riverman named 
 Billy Steele was killed. He was carried out of 
 sight so quickly that he was barely missed by 
 his comrades. He was a youth of rare promise, 
 and none felt his untimely end more keenly than 
 old Isaac Steele, his father, who was working not 
 thirty feet from him when he was sucked under 
 by the whirlpool of logs and water. The jam 
 was caused by a sudden freshet in the Moshan- 
 non driving out a lot of logs which had been 
 piled on its banks into a score of timber rafts 
 that were moored in the West Branch, a short 
 distance below its confluence with the Moshan- 
 non. 
 
 The evening after the disaster one of the rafts- 
 men had occasion to go some distance up the 
 Moshannon to a friend's cabin and was sur- 
 prised to find old Isaac Steele standing on a 
 large rock in the bed of the stream, the rock 
 is known to this day as the "Rivermen's Tor-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 197 
 
 merit, " as more than one raft came to grief 
 against it. The Indian, who was alone, was 
 shouting loudly and listening to the echoes which 
 at first came back to him, and then were carried 
 into the very depths of the hemlock-covered 
 mountains which lined the shores. With a clear, 
 resonant voice, yet mixed with sadness, he sent 
 echo after echo through space until the entire 
 wilderness reverberated with the tones of an- 
 guish. The riverman knew enough of the In- 
 dians' ways to surmise that it was some religious 
 exercise, and drew back, allowing him to con- 
 tinue his shouting unmolested. But he was anx- 
 ious to know the meaning of it, and waited his 
 opportunity to inquire. 
 
 It happened that the Indian was to ride on 
 the same raft of which this particular riverman 
 was the pilot, and on the journey to Marietta 
 the chance for enlightenment presented itself. 
 Some very warm weather set in and when the 
 raft was moored at night time in comfortable 
 eddies, the crew decided that it was too warm to 
 go to the taverns, so they slept, wrapped in thin 
 blankets, on the deck. It was on one of these 
 nights, when the raft was tied up at Hummel's
 
 198 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Wharf, when it was uncomfortably warm for 
 sleeping that the pilot and the Seneca became 
 confidential, and the reasons for the mysterious 
 shouting were revealed. 
 
 The old redman said that his son had died so 
 unexpectedly that the poor boy did not have a 
 chance to acquaint his friends in Paradise of 
 his coming. It would be hard to arrive from 
 the journey which was a long and arduous one, 
 with nobody to meet him at the crystal gates. He 
 hoped that the shouts which he had given vent 
 to on the evening of the accident would reach 
 the Land of Shades before the arrival of his 
 son's spirit. Sometimes the journey took only 
 a few days, but in other cases, the suddenly de- 
 ceased souls lost their way, and were months 
 finding the Promised Land. 
 
 There were many strange stories clustered 
 about the "Death Shout," some of them beauti- 
 ful, others painfully sad. He would tell one 
 which his old grandmother had loved to repeat 
 when he was a little boy and lived in a hunting 
 camp in the heart of the Black Forest. It was 
 a story of the days when the world was new and 
 the Indians had not lost the personal interest of
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 199 
 
 the Great Spirit by frequent acts of disobedience 
 and indifference. 
 
 In those days there was a certain brave young 
 warrior and hunter, he had more human scalps 
 and panthers' teeth on his belt than any man, 
 old or young, in his clan. His name was Macha- 
 tachten, or The Coal of Fire. With his tall and 
 graceful figure, his gentle voice, and flashing 
 grey eyes he could have had the love of any wo- 
 man he wished for. But his heart only beat for 
 one Indian maid, the beautiful Sabeleua, or Sun- 
 light on the Water. This great affection was 
 fully reciprocated and in due course of time they 
 were married. Sabeleua 's character was as fully 
 developed as her husband's, consequently they 
 were able to appreciate ane another. 
 
 The fair bride predicted that Machatachten 
 would rise to become the greatest Indian who 
 had ever lived. In this many wise men agreed. 
 He seemed to be the favored one of the Great 
 Spirit. Despite all the flattering words he heard, 
 the young warrior listened mostly to the encour- 
 agements of his bride. He believed in her judg- 
 ment above that of all other persons; it over- 
 joyed him to feel that she looked upon him as
 
 200 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 a coming man. To uphold her confidence he 
 indulged in many feats of daring, both in the 
 chase and in war. In the midst of all this hap- 
 piness the fair bride was seized with a swamp 
 fever, and despite all that could be done for her, 
 she passed away. Machatachten 's grief was piti- 
 ful to witness. 
 
 Strong man that he was, he was bowed to the 
 earth by this sudden affliction. It was like a 
 bolt from a clear sky. The wise men who had 
 predicted so much for him in the future came 
 to offer their condolences. They were turned 
 away from the warrior's lodge house, Machtach- 
 ten telling them that their predictions of ma- 
 terial triumphs were of no use ; now that he had 
 lost his love and helpmate, he had no belief in 
 makers of false promises. 
 
 After awhile he realized that this moping in 
 his cabin was no way for a brave man to act, it 
 would be best to enter earnestly into warfare, 
 to strike blow after blow at the corruption of 
 the world, and if he fell he would join his wife's 
 spirit in the Paradise as a brave soul, and not 
 as one who had grieved himself into the grave.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 201 
 
 So he emerged from his retirement and gath- 
 ered an intrepid band of warriors about him. 
 They travelled to distant parts of the country 
 putting down oppression, injustice, wrong, vice 
 and crime. They were always victorious, al- 
 though they incurred the hatred of many chiefs 
 who feared the existence of an aggregation of 
 skilled warriors dedicated to such lofty purposes. 
 It was in one of those periods in Indian history 
 when there was much corruption and enervation, 
 consequently the awakening of a new Spartan 
 spirit was viewed with disfavor by those who 
 profited by human weakness. Yet the most ap- 
 palling feature was the unbroken series of vic- 
 tories which the band of Spartans achieved. In 
 a year they had dethroned and killed fifty tyran- 
 nical or corrupt Indian kings, and added vast 
 stretches of territory to the dominions of old 
 Magoochagook, or Copper-Head-Snake, in whose 
 realm Machatachten and his band resided. 
 
 At first the aged chief viewed the warfare of 
 the intrepid young warrior with pleasurable 
 sensations. He publicly commended him and 
 loaded him with gifts. He raised his rank of 
 nobility next to that of royalty. He had games
 
 202 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 and feasts given in his honor. But as time went 
 on he began to fear that Machatachten was be- 
 coming more popular than himself, and above 
 all more esteemed than his son and heir, And- 
 hannai, or the Bull Frog. This youth was given 
 over to luxury and viciousness, and possessed 
 more vulnerable points than many of the chief- 
 tains whom Machatachten had overthrown. The 
 old King nursed his fears privately for a while, 
 then he confided them to his council of wise men, 
 who in turn suggested that the sothsayers be 
 called in. The medicine men shook their heads 
 sadly, saying that Magoocagook 's suspicions 
 were only too true. Machatachten, they said, 
 was insincere, that he was only seeking after 
 notoriety, that his ultimate desire was to over- 
 throw Magoochagook 's dynasty, and rule in his 
 stead. 
 
 They advised the King to immediately order 
 the disarmament of the young warrior and all 
 his followers. But it was the soothsayers who 
 were insincere; they colored their report to suit 
 their King, though in their hearts they believed 
 in Machatachten. The King was delighted at 
 the result of his appeal to the seers into the sha-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 203 
 
 dowy world. He lost no time in issuing a procla- 
 mation ordering the warrior and all his band 
 to assemble in a deep ravine on an appointed 
 day, and give up all their arms to the royal 
 bodyguard. The place where this was to be car- 
 ried out was at the foot of the "War Path, so 
 called from this episode, on Kettle Creek, in the 
 Black Forest. Maehatachten was surprised at 
 this order, but he was first of all a loyal subject, 
 and did not question. Some of his followers 
 were almost rebellious when they were told that 
 they must lay down their arms and fight no 
 more, but he quieted them with his dominant 
 will. 
 
 Marshalling them together, he marched them 
 single file along the War Path, meeting the rep- 
 resentatives of the King, who were drawn up 
 along the banks of the creek, in the early morn- 
 ing. Maehatachten saluted and advanced for- 
 ward, giving over his spears, arrows, scalping 
 knives and deer skinners. Then the chief repre- 
 sentative of the King commanded the unarmed 
 warriors to form themselves into a circle, with 
 their leader in the centre. When in this posi-
 
 204 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 tion the royal guard quickly withdrew into the 
 forest. 
 
 While standing thus defenseless, yet feeling 
 perfect confidence in the honor of royalty, a 
 cruel fusillade of poisoned arrows rained down 
 from the tops of the hemlock-covered mountains 
 which overhung the ravine. Among the first to 
 go down was the brave Machatachten, pierced 
 through the jugular vein. As he fell, he had 
 presence of mind enough to give the Death 
 Shout. What had been a few minutes before a 
 sea of happy faces, was now a bloody charnel 
 house. The entire band having been apparently 
 slain, the executioners proceeded to scalp the 
 victims. Machatachten 's body was the first ap- 
 proached. It was still warm, but the heart had 
 ceased beating; there was no flow of blood ap- 
 parent. The barbarous Indians tore the scalp 
 from the head, and then stamped on the pros- 
 trate form before they passed on to the next 
 corpse. 
 
 Within an hour two hundred scalps were col- 
 lected, and placed in pouches made from pan- 
 ther skins. The leader took the pouches, and 
 followed by his murderous crew, started for the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 206 
 
 royal pavilion on the shores of Tiadaghton 
 Creek. All day long the bodies of Machatach- 
 ten and his mutilated followers lay in the broil- 
 ing sun on the greensward by the creek-side. 
 The flow of warriors' blood pouring into the 
 water, dyed it a lurid red. Meanwhile the Death 
 Shout which the brave youth uttered was re- 
 verberating from ravine to ravine, from moun- 
 tain to mountain, rising higher and higher, clear- 
 er and clearer, until it reached the clouds, and 
 was wafted through them to the Land of Eternal 
 Sunshine, where the souls of the happy and the 
 brave exist forever in unclouded bliss. 
 
 A strange shadow passed over Sabeleua's hap- 
 piness there in Paradise; with cosmic intuition 
 her first thought was of her husband in the ter- 
 restrial world. Then came the last expiring 
 echo of the Death Shout. Following it back 
 through blue ether, atmosphere, cloud masses, 
 mountain peaks, forest-clad ravines, rocks, riv- 
 ers and streams, to its source, she found her be- 
 loved warrior lying in the growing sunlight, his 
 life's blood ebbing away. Around him lay the 
 bodies of his faithful followers, all dead or dy- 
 ing. It was a horrible sight, one not often seen
 
 206 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 by the calm dwellers in the bosom of the infinite. 
 Summoning all her psychic strength she breath- 
 ed on the gaping wound in Machatachten 's neck. 
 Like magic it closed together, becoming perfect- 
 ly dry. Even as she did so, the cruel band of 
 murderers emerged from the thickets, making 
 the heroic leader, whose wound had ceased to 
 flow, the first victim of their scalping lust. 
 
 This was too much for Sabeleua to bear. She 
 sought to strike the scalpers' hands with palsy, 
 but not being divinity, was powerless. She could 
 aid the injured, but the well were too full of 
 world-strength to affect. So she was compelled 
 to witness the mutilation of her handsome Mach- 
 atachten. When all the prostrate forms had been 
 scalped and roughly used, the fiends in human 
 form withdrew, wildly anxious to hurry the good 
 tidings to their monarch Magoochagook. Left 
 alone with her beloved, Sabeleua formed a heav- 
 enly shadow over him to protect him from the 
 broiling heat of the summer day. 
 
 All day long she brooded over him, his wound 
 still remaining sered, while she breathed her 
 spiritual force into his dry, grey lips. When at 
 length the sun lost its fury, and sunset redder
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 207 
 
 than warriors' blood threw its rays upon the 
 creek, the form of Machatachten began to twitch 
 and coil itself. Then the long, sinewy arms 
 stretched themselves out, the fingers clenched, 
 flowing blood was noticeable in the blue veins. 
 The head raised itself several times, the lips 
 twitched, and assumed a less ashen hue. Lastly 
 the eyes opened, staring about blankly, while 
 more depth came into them. 
 
 At length the figure started to arise, awkward- 
 ly it seemed, like a new-born colt getting on its 
 feet for the first time. After a few efforts equi- 
 librium was found, and the warrior rose to his 
 full height, which was several inches over six 
 feet. He stretched his arms again, yawned, and 
 re-opened his eyes; Machatachten had apparent- 
 ly risen from the dead. A cool evening breeze 
 blew in his face, and swept his dark, woven cloak 
 about his legs. Consciousness seemed to come 
 back with that zephyr, for he looked about him, 
 as if waking from a dream. Then his eyes fell 
 on the piles of dead and mutilated corpses, and 
 instinctively he put his hand to his head. In- 
 stead of the shock of straight, stiff hair, he was 
 completely bald, and the top of his skull was
 
 208 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 rough and smarted at his touch. The realization 
 came to him that he too had been scalped, and 
 that an hour before he had lain as dead among 
 his henchmen. He shed tears for the brave fel- 
 lows who were no more, and were it not so dark, 
 he could have searched for the remains of a few 
 who were particularly dear to him. 
 
 He looked out on the glimmering waters of 
 the creek, on which a solitary star was shining. 
 It gave such a long, trailing, quavering reflec- 
 tion that it was almost human in its proportions. 
 He gazed at it as if transfixed, until he fancied 
 he saw the face and form of the long-absent Sa- 
 beleua, but she was as translucent as starlight. 
 He was so astounded to see her that his speech 
 returned to him, and he asked if she was not the 
 beneficent spirit who had saved his life. He had 
 sent her the Death Shout when the poisoned ar- 
 row pierced his throat. From her presence this 
 night, he was certain that she had heard it and 
 closed the wound and stopped the fatal flow. 
 
 But Sabeleua's only answer was a nodding of 
 the head, the quintessence of starlight on even- 
 ing waters. Machatachten knew and understood. 
 He asked her if she had saved him for some pur-
 
 TELLING A PANTHER STORY
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 209 
 
 pose, otherwise might it not have been happier 
 for them both if he had died and joined her at 
 once in Awossagame, or Heaven. Then a breeze 
 stirred the great hemlocks which grew along the 
 stream. They swayed and twisted, and shook 
 their shaggy boughs until they seemed to simu- 
 late the human voice. 
 
 At length Machatachten made out these 
 words : ' ' Yes, my beloved, you have a mission in 
 this world. You cannot leave here until it is 
 fulfilled. You must become King of all the red- 
 men who live east of the great lakes and the 
 boundless plains. Rise on Magoochagook, hurl 
 him from power, and you will be the greatest 
 and godliest ruler our people have ever known. ' ' 
 
 Then the rustling of the giant branches ceas- 
 ed, and the glimmering star, Machatachten 's 
 star of destiny, vanished from the waters; all 
 was the overpowering stillness of the mountain 
 night. 
 
 Then came a great illumination to his soul. 
 He saw everything clearly, as in a flash of light- 
 ning. His mission was revealed to him in the 
 dizzy glare. Looking down for an instant he 
 saw a scalping knife, which one of Magoocha-
 
 210 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 gook's retainers had left behind, lying at his 
 feet. He stooped and picked it up, then with 
 rapid strides cleared the tangled mass of bodies, 
 and started for the War Path. 
 
 Though it was dark night, the light in his 
 soul was such that he saw the way clearly. The 
 steep path was part of his destiny. Just at day- 
 break he encountered a handsome youth, bound 
 for the depths of the Black Forest on a hunting 
 trip. Machatachten drew his scalping knife, 
 quickly stabbing the youth through his jugular 
 vein. Without a word, he sank to the earth, ex- 
 piring in a pool of blood. This young hunter 
 gave up his life as an instrument of Machatach- 
 ten 's fate. The inspired warrior scalped the 
 dead man and placed the heavy shock of hair on 
 the still sore and bleeding top of his own head. 
 Now he felt that he looked like his old self again. 
 The wound in his throat had healed, he was 
 filled with more purpose and strength than ever 
 before. 
 
 It was shortly after noon when he approached 
 Magoochagook's pavilion, near where upper 
 Trout Run empties into Tiadaghton. The same 
 bodyguard which had mtatodd the Ifra-ve little
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 211 
 
 band the day before were on duty outside the 
 regal lodge-house. When they saw the stalwart 
 and living form of the warrior whom they were 
 sure they had killed and scalped, they fell on 
 their knees, trembling with terror. Machatach- 
 ten advanced through their lines to the door of 
 the King's abode. The old monarch and his son 
 were sitting within, smoking peacefully after 
 their midday feast. Near them, on a carpet of 
 panther hides were a number of bloody scalps 
 supposedly those of Machatachten and his fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 As the brave from the land of slain appeared 
 before them, some impulse caused the royal pair 
 to look up. Both gave agonized shrieks of ter- 
 ror, and prostrated themselves on their faces 
 before him, saying: "Oh, thou who art risen 
 from the dead, take pity on us, spare us, for now 
 we know you are favored by the Great Spirit." 
 
 But Machatachten showed no pity, no quar 
 ter. Seizing both abject wretches by their long 
 hair, he cut their throats with a single sweep of 
 his scalping knife. Then he scalped them, and 
 pushed the bodies over in a heap. Just as he 
 was tying the two scalps to his belt, he heard a
 
 212 
 
 mighty shouting behind him. Turning around, 
 he beheld the populace, led by the late King's 
 bodyguard, come to acclaim him as the new 
 King. The vast throng seemed to be shouting 
 as one man: "Hail Machatachten, Conqueror of 
 Death, favored of the Great Spirit, King of all 
 the red races east of the great lakes and bound- 
 less plains, all hail, all reverence to him. ' ' Mach- 
 atachten smilingly accepted their greetings, 
 while an aged wise man handed him a silver 
 crown, indicating his royal authority. The new 
 King ruled long and well, uniting his tribes into 
 a vast confederation, all as was predicted by the 
 frail spirit of Sabeleua.
 
 X. 
 
 THE HEALING SPRING. 
 
 (A Story of Quinn's Run.) 
 
 IKE the famous springs at 
 Bath, England, the curative 
 properties of the famous 
 "Healing Spring," situated 
 near the headwaters of Quinn's 
 Run, in Clinton County, were discovered by an 
 early pioneer noticing that cattle which had 
 been bitten by wolves stood in it to heal their 
 lacerated limbs. 
 
 Samuel Michael Quinn, ranger, and son of 
 Terence Quinn, the famous Indian fighter of 
 Dry Valley, and grandson of old Corinnus Mich- 
 ael, a veteran of Frederick the Great's wars, 
 with his good friend, Peter Farley, likewise a 
 ranger, were camped for some time at the mouth 
 of the stream now called improperly Queen's 
 Run, engaged in surveying work. As they con- 
 templated a lengthy stay in the wilderness, they 
 brought several head of cattle with them. Dur- 
 
 218
 
 214 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ing their spare moments they cleared consider- 
 able ground near their shanty, and set out a 
 tolerable garden and a buckwheat patch. They 
 kept bells on their cows, which they allowed to 
 pasture among the mountains. On account of 
 the prevalence of panthers and wolves, the cattle 
 rarely strayed far from the open clearing, which 
 was guarded by hunting dogs. 
 
 During the wet periods in September, "the 
 equinoxial storms, ' ' they sometimes climbed high 
 up on the sides of the mountains, but they could 
 be easily apprehended by the musical tinkling 
 of their bells. One evening they did not return, 
 and the trained dogs scoured the adjacent knobs, 
 without locating them. The young rangers be- 
 came alarmed lest the animals had been stolen 
 by Indians or killed by wild beasts, so they de- 
 termined to hunt them without further delay. 
 Accompanied by their trusty dogs, they started 
 out the old Indian trail which led along the run. 
 Although they encountered no signs of the cat- 
 tle, they continued clear to the sources of the 
 stream, determined to cover the entire ground, 
 and return over the ridges to the camp.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 215 
 
 "When they came to the forks, Quinn and three 
 of the dogs followed the westerly branch, while 
 Farley and four dogs took the easterly. Near 
 the heading of the west fork Quinn 's dogs caught 
 a trail which led up on the high table-land which 
 lies between Quinn 's Run and the waters of 
 Lick Run. It was a region noted for its dry 
 ground and good pasture. It was a severe climb 
 even on a September morning, but the intrepid 
 young frontiersman went at it with a will. At 
 the summit the dogs struck a straight line and 
 went far ahead, tongueing and yelping. In those 
 days there was a magnificent growth of old-fash- 
 ioned yellow pines on the high plateau. There 
 was little or no underbrush, consequently an al- 
 most unobstructed view over the whole flat. 
 
 In the northwest corner of the plateau rises 
 a bold, rocky knob, then heavily timbered with 
 pine, hemlock and hardwood. It was there that 
 Quinn finally made out the distant barking of 
 his dogs, and the faint tinkle of cow-bells. But 
 he decided to follow the path which the hounds 
 had torn out through the grass and ferns; it 
 might reveal some lurking bears or panthers 
 which he might slay. At last he arrived at a
 
 216 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 spot where there were signs of a struggle. The 
 ferns and indigo bushes were beaten down, and 
 there were great splotches of blood on the leaves. 
 The cattle had evidently made a stand against 
 enemies here, and had not been worsted, as he 
 could see where they had started away in a 
 northerly direction towards the knob. He fol- 
 lowed their tracks for three miles until he en- 
 tered the dense forest at the foot of the eminence, 
 all the distance seeing bloodstains on fallen logs 
 or leaves. 
 
 In the woods he came upon his three cows, 
 guarded by a yearling bull, and the shrewd dogs. 
 Upon second glance he saw that the cattle stood 
 up to their hocks in soft, mucky clay, and not 
 far from the swale was a spring of water drip- 
 ping out of the rocks. Upon close examination 
 he saw that the flanks and chests of the cattle 
 were cut and torn, and their mud-stained legs 
 were also horribly mutilated. The young bull's 
 head and horns were covered with hair and dried 
 blood. Quinn took in the situation at a glance. 
 The cattle had strayed up on the high-lands, and 
 been attacked by a pack of wolves. The bull had 
 defended them and driven the brutes away. Had
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 217 
 
 the attack occurred in midwinter when the 
 wolves had no roots or berries to eat, and were 
 famished with hunger, the result might have 
 been different. Besides the attacking animals 
 were probably wolf pups, as the older animals 
 never killed cattle in the autumn. But as it was, 
 they had bitten the cattle cruelly, and in their 
 extremity the poor creatures had sought the mud- 
 dy swamp to ease their wounds. 
 
 Considering the depth and number of the 
 bites, the lacerations looked remarkably healthy. 
 Quinn resolved to further investigate, and vis- 
 ited the spring which was the source of the 
 swale. The water had a peculiar look, more like 
 oil than anything else. He bent over and drank 
 some of it; the taste was decidedly oily. The 
 color was unusual, evidently there was a reflec- 
 tion from the bottom which gave it the hue of 
 freshly drawn blood. Quinn concluded that the 
 water had some medicinal properties, which had 
 attracted the injured cattle. He found that the 
 animals were able to travel, so he started them 
 along the plateau in the direction of the Susque- 
 hanna. He travelled by easy stages, resting 
 where pasture was good; he did not want to
 
 218 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 crowd the wounded brutes after their unpleas- 
 ant experience. It was well after dark when he 
 got back to his cabin. Farley, who had gotten 
 back a few minutes earlier, heard his approach 
 by the cow bells, and climbed up the hill to meet 
 him. 
 
 As quickly as possible Quinn told the story, 
 to the astonishment of his companion. It must 
 be a healing spring to be sure, but neither of 
 them, well versed as they were in the nooks and 
 corners and lore of the mountains at the edge of 
 the Black Forest, had ever heard of this spring 
 before. The cattle soon recovered from the 
 wounds, but the cruel scars remained. 
 
 That winter it happened that a friendly In- 
 dian named Young James Compass, who was a 
 well-known historical character, spent a night 
 with the young surveyors in their cozy cabin. 
 In the course of the conversation before the 
 blazing beech-wood fire the story of how the 
 cattle had been attacked by wolves was repeated, 
 Quinn mentioning how the animals had retired 
 to an oily spring on the plateau after their es- 
 cape from their tormentors.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 219 
 
 Compass was much surprised when he heard 
 the story. "Why that's the famous 'Healing 
 Spring,' " he said. Then he proceeded to tell 
 of many cures effected by it on men and beasts. 
 He became so much interested in his story that 
 when the coals burned low he branched off to an 
 ancient legend of the origin of the healing 
 spring, which had been told him in his boyhood 
 by the very old people. 
 
 It was in the early days of the Indian world, 
 when there were no fixed physical laws, and any- 
 thing was apt to happen to people through spir- 
 itual agencies; nothing was impossible in those 
 days. In the Black Forest there lived a beau- 
 tiful Indian maiden named Wulissah, or the 
 Pretty One. She was born of undistinguished 
 parentage, but always conducted herself with a 
 charm and grace far above her station. Her 
 kindness of heart was proverbial; she was al- 
 ways ready to help persons in sickness or dis- 
 tress. Her many good qualities, which only 
 served to illuminate her winsome face and fig- 
 ure, attracted the attention of many Indians of 
 high degree. Yet she bore herself modestly, al- 
 though among her admirers were several war-
 
 220 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 riors and hunters who stood close to the King. 
 This naturally aroused the jealousy of other 
 Indian girls of obscure birth; they could not 
 understand why the law of caste should be abro- 
 kated for Wulissah's benefit and not for them; 
 for the foolish creatures believed themselves 
 equally pretty and intelligent. 
 
 Among the heroes who courted this unusual 
 maiden was the stalwart brave, Pegenink or 
 Darkness. This young warrior was of swarthy 
 complexion and powerful frame, and known far 
 and wide as a wrestler and all around othlete. 
 He possessed a peculiar charm which endeared 
 him to most women with whom he came in con- 
 tact. When he smiled on a woman she consid- 
 ered hersilf highly favored. Maidens of high 
 and low degree sighed for him, but he was slow 
 in making his choice of a wife. When he did 
 exhibit a preference, it was for the lovely Wul- 
 issah. The girl could hardly believe her senses 
 when this, the most popular of Indian youths, 
 desired her company above all other women. 
 
 The old King at that time, Nendawagen, or 
 The Torch, had an only daughter named Tiske- 
 manis, or the Little Fisher Bird. She was an
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 221 
 
 undersized girl, with prominent features, pro- 
 truding teeth, and snapping black eyes. Being 
 a King's daughter, she had her share of atten- 
 tion, but she was indifferent to the suitors, for 
 she loved Pegenink. The young hero either was 
 unaware of her passion, or did not admire her, 
 as he was utterly indifferent to her existence. 
 This piqued her pride, but she held herself with- 
 in bounds as long as she saw that the object of 
 her adoration apparently cared for no one else. 
 One summer evening she came upon Pegenink 
 and Wulissah walking together along the shores 
 of rippling Mahoning now called Lick Run. She 
 bit her lips with rage and passed on. When out of 
 range of hearing, she asked her hand-maiden, 
 "Wisohen, when the popular youth had begun his 
 attentions to "Wulissah, daughter of plain par- 
 ents. The hand-maiden replied that rumor had 
 it that the affair had been going on for several 
 moons, that they were apt to marry very shortly. 
 Cat-like, the princess remarked that such a 
 promising youth as Pegenink was foolish to 
 throw himself away on such an obscure girl, that 
 surely he cbuld dt> better*
 
 222 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 That night the slighted one lay awake in her 
 pavilion bemoaning the fate which gave her birth 
 and power, but denied her love. Before dawn 
 sent its faint streaks of light into her apart- 
 ment she had reasoned out a plan for revenge. 
 She had power, and why not use it to thwart the 
 purposes of those who had made her miserable. 
 
 Tiskemanis' hand-maiden was almost as ill- 
 favored as her royal mistress, yet she too loved 
 Pegenink. That was why she knew all about his 
 love story with "Wulissah, when the princess 
 first noticed the pair together. She yielded very 
 aptly to the princess' questionings, as she saw 
 a chance where she too might be revenged. Wul- 
 issah, she learned before long, was meeting her 
 lover every night in a dense wood at the foot 
 of a knob which rose from the high plateau on 
 which the tribe's encampment had been lately 
 removed for the summer months. This news she 
 conveyed to her royal mistress. 
 
 The thought of the two together in blissful 
 association, while she had to seek a lonely couch, 
 and toss and fret for sleepless hours, was too 
 much for the jealous princess. She waited the 
 next Evening until darb, when she
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 223 
 
 her father, and asked him to summon Pegenink 
 into his presence, to discuss a war which was 
 then in contemplation. Old King Nendawagen 
 said that he doubted if such a young man as 
 Pegenink could give him the kind of advice he 
 wanted. The young fellow was an athlete, a 
 hunter, who had yet to win his laurels in the 
 bloody conflicts of mankind. But the petted 
 daughter insisted, and when her father yielded, 
 she told him to send for the young man at once. 
 Nendawagen said he was tired, and did not want 
 to discuss war that night, but the princess 
 stamped her foot, and the poor old man reluct- 
 antly acquiesced. 
 
 He sent one of his bodyguard to fetch the 
 young brave into his presence. The guard found 
 Pegenink none too soon, as he was already half 
 a mile out of camp, on his way to his tryst with 
 Wulissah. While he felt honored that the King 
 should seek his advice, he disliked greatly to 
 disappoint his sweetheart. But the royal wish 
 came always first ; common mortals could be dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 While the young lover was being brought into 
 tiit 1 King's presence, the crafty Tiskemauis had
 
 224 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 dispatched a pair of hired assassins to the tryst 
 at the Knob, to slay the fair Wulissah. It was 
 difficult to obtain murderers base enough to car- 
 ry such a scheme into execution, but no one 
 cared to run the risk of refusing to do a service 
 for a royal princess. Nevertheless, even the 
 dregs of the tribe knew the doomed girl's un- 
 selfish and virtuous life, and hated to put her 
 out of the world. As the wretches tramped across 
 the table-land they heaved many deep sighs. It 
 was the first time in fact that they had ever lent 
 themselves unwillingly to a murder plot. As 
 they neared the Knob they cursed the princess 
 under their breaths. Back at the royal pavilion 
 Pegenink was being brought before the august 
 presence of the King. 
 
 When the youth entered the pavilion he found 
 the old monarch seated on his favorite panther 
 rug, with his daughter, Tiskemanis, beside him. 
 Pegenink bowed profoundly to his King and the 
 princess, and then stood at attention. 
 
 The King turned to the girl and said: "You 
 wanted me to bring this young brave here to talk 
 about war; what shall I ask him?"
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 225 
 
 The girl flushed, as she saw that her scheme 
 had been partly unmasked. She declined to ask 
 any questions, yet acted as if she wanted the 
 youth to remain. However, as the King was in 
 an uncommunicative mood, the "interview" 
 quickly terminated. Pegenink prostrated him- 
 self again, and then backed out of the big lodge- 
 house. Once outside, he broke into a trot; he 
 might still have time to overtake Wulissah at 
 the Knob, and spend a little time with her bliss- 
 fully. With his athletic Dowers, he traveled much 
 faster than the average man, and all but over- 
 took the two hired murderers. His pace had 
 been accelerated because he suspected all was 
 not right about that meeting with the King. 
 Tiskemanis' presence seemed mysterious, yet 
 what could be wrong? His heart beat heavily 
 against his breast as he neared the sacred spot 
 where had passed so many happy hours. 
 
 At the edge of the thicket where Wulissah 
 usually concealed herself he could contain his 
 feelings no longer, calling out, "My loved one, 
 my loved one, are you there?" 
 
 No answer came to him, but he fancied that 
 he heard a crackling of twigs as if caused by
 
 226 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 heavy men's feet walking through the forest 
 cover. He called out again, "Wulissah, loved 
 one, my loved one, why don't you answer?" 
 Again there was only silence profound and omi- 
 nous. 
 
 Crazed with anxiety, he sprang into the 
 tricket with a terrific bound, almost stumbling 
 over the prostrate form of Wulissah. He heard 
 her choking, as if she was dying; he touched 
 her, she was covered with blood. Though he 
 was a man of iron nerves, he uttered a hoarse 
 cry of horror and indignation. The girl raised 
 her hand, and pointed further into the forest 
 depths. Seeking to apprehend the murderers, 
 he plunged forward, but in the darkness it was 
 impossible to find any hidden objects. He re- 
 turned to his loved one and bent down over her. 
 
 "What has happened?" he gasped. 
 
 Wulissah raised her head, and after he had 
 kissed life into her trembling lips, she told him 
 how she had waited for his arrival, had become 
 anxious lest harm had come to him, he was al- 
 ways so prompt. At length she had heard foot- 
 steps, and walking forward came face to face 
 with two Indians wearing masks. Before she
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 227 
 
 could cry out one of them put his heavy hand 
 over her mouth, and stabbed her again and again 
 in the breast with his hunting knife. Weak from 
 loss of blood, she had stumbled, and the brutes, 
 evidently hearing Pegenink 's approach, had sud- 
 denly left her. A moment later her lover had 
 almost tripped over her body. 
 
 When she finished speaking poor Pegenink 
 was sobbing like a child. He could see the whole 
 plot now. He had been summoned to an audi- 
 ence with the King so that the murderers might 
 have a chance to kill his sweetheart. But he 
 could not understand the reason. 
 
 Wulissah had now begun to breathe heavily 
 again ; after a few gasps and a half articulate cry 
 all seemed over. All at once she half rose, and 
 trance-like with eyes closed, spoke again, "Pe- 
 genink, my love, I have seen it all. Tiskemanis, 
 the King's daughter, loves you. She had you 
 brought into her father's presence so the mur- 
 derers whom she hired could have a chance to 
 come out here and kill me. But though you lose 
 me now in a brief space of time we will be to- 
 gether for always in the Paradise. By my death 
 I will carry out the good intentions which filled
 
 228 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 my heart. The Great Spirit tells me that I am 
 to become a healing spring. Farewell, my love, 
 farewell. ' ' 
 
 Wulissah then became rigid, and lay dead in 
 her lover's arms. Pegenink then buried her 
 body where she fell, and wandered off disconso- 
 late. At dawn he drew his hunting knife, and 
 cut his own throat, lying down to die in the bed 
 of Lick Run. He knew that it would be useless 
 to live; if he refused to court Tiskemanis she 
 would have him accused of "Wulissah 's murder. 
 And much as he hated the King's daughter be- 
 fore, he loathed her now for instigating a foul 
 crime. 
 
 The murderers of Wulissah reported the next 
 day that they had accomplished their task, but 
 the absence of Pegenink caused the princess 
 some uneasiness. Perhaps she had escaped after 
 all, and gone away with the man of her choice. 
 She questioned the wretches critically, but could 
 not shake their stories. They insisted that they 
 could show her the body to allay her doubts. 
 Accompanied by them, and her hand-maiden, 
 Wisohen, she travelled several days later to the 
 scene of fob horrid d&'d. To the surprise of
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 229 
 
 the murderers, no traces of a corpse or any blood 
 was to be found. Where they claimed to have 
 stabbed her, a jet of bubbling water issued from 
 the rocky base of the hill. It was unlike any 
 water they had seen before, for it was thick like 
 oil, and a deposit at its bottom gave it a red, 
 blood-like color. 
 
 "That spring was not there when we killed 
 the girl," they declared with emphasis. ''She 
 is dead, but she has been turned into a spring," 
 said one of them, in awe-struck tones. 
 
 This man had severely scratched his hand on 
 some brambles while escaping from Pegenink 
 the night of the murder, and reached down and 
 bathed the sores in the soft, oily water. Imme- 
 diately there was a sensation of relief. "It's a 
 healing spring, a miracle has occurred," ex- 
 claimed the wretch. 
 
 Tiskemanis' face darkened, and she scowled 
 at the hired assassin, then she uttered a piercing 
 cry. "That girl won the love of the only man 
 I ever cared for in life, now in death she is a 
 healing spring, and her name will live long after 
 mine is forgotten. Providence has slighted me 
 with my royal blood. ' ' Her eyes assumed a wild
 
 230 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 look, a look of impotent hate, and she started to 
 run up the steep hill. 
 
 Thinking she had become mad and dangerous, 
 the murderers and the hand-maiden made no 
 effort to follow her. A month later her mangled 
 body was found at the bottom of a precipice on 
 Kettle Creek, and her generation soon forgot 
 her. But Wulissah's name lived on through her 
 good deeds and in the healing spring.
 
 XI. 
 
 A HUNTER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 (A Story of Lewis' Run.) 
 
 HE older generation distinctly 
 remember how every Spring, 
 after the close of the hunting 
 and trapping season, Jim Ja- 
 cobs, the famous nimrod, and 
 his little family would arrive at their camp near 
 the source of Lewis' Run. They occupied an old 
 hunter's shanty which stood in the centre of an 
 Indian orchard, where a few of the ancient apple 
 and plum trees still bore luscious fruit. Some 
 gnarled old grape vines grew on one side of the 
 house, spreading over a trellis to the wodshed. 
 Jacobs was very fond of his garden, which he 
 planted with characteristic Indian favorites like 
 beans, turnips, squashes, sweet potatoes, maize 
 and sunflowers. He also cultivated a few stalks 
 of tobacco, and in a shady corner pink root and 
 ginseng. 
 
 281
 
 232 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 When his day's work was done, he would sit 
 under his shady arbor, smoking his long pipe, 
 and enjoying the happiest hours of his life. His 
 good wife would be nearby preparing supper, 
 while his beloved little girl, Corydalis, the only 
 child he ever had, played at his feet. He had 
 been married more than sixteen years before 
 the little one was born, and when she came he 
 poured out on her a world of love and devotion, 
 fully shared by his wife, Zelozella, or The 
 Cricket. 
 
 Little Corydalis had been born when her pa- 
 rents were sojourning in New York State, on 
 the estate of Samuel Ogden, "the land-grabber." 
 The shrewd Yankee had a daughter named Bar- 
 bara, who interested herself in the welfare of 
 the Indians who were being driven from their 
 homes on an agreement draAvn up while the 
 chiefs were under the influence of liquor, and 
 she took a fancy to Jacobs' infant, asking per- 
 mission to name her Corydalis, after one of her 
 favorite flowers. 
 
 Barbara Ogden retained her interest in the 
 little girl even after she was taken back to Penn- 
 sylvania, frequently sending her gifts of various
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 233 
 
 kinds. Among these was a string of gold beads 
 which she always wore around her neck. These 
 beads were the nucleus of a scheme of adorn- 
 ment which soon covered the person of the tiny 
 girl. Beads of every color were secured from 
 all possible sources and strung on her clothing, 
 and wound about in her hair; her ears were 
 pierced and there coral pendants were hung. 
 "When she was fully decked out, and wearing a 
 red dress, a travelling photographer named Wil- 
 liam McKeen, the first to go through that sec- 
 tion of the country, took her picture. The re- 
 sult was an excellent likeness, far better than 
 could have been made by most of the modern, 
 high-priced ''artists." One of the pictures 
 was sent to Miss Ogden, who gave it a place of 
 honor on her dressing table. The old Indians 
 had many copies struck off from the negative, 
 giving them to all persons who seemed the least 
 bit interested. 
 
 When the photographer came through the 
 wilderness the following year he brought his 
 son Rollo with him, a boy of about twelve 
 years ; Corydalis at this time was past ten. An- 
 other picture of the little girl was taken, also
 
 234 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 one of Jim Jacobs, holding his faithful rifle 
 which he called Long John. This is the cele- 
 brated photograph of the great hunter, and the 
 only one he ever had taken. It shows the keen 
 face, the bushy locks, the stubby beard, the 
 quaint costume. The fact that the Jacobs fam- 
 ily had discarded the Indian prejudice against 
 having their pictures taken encouraged other 
 redskins to do likewise, and all the photographer 
 had to do was to show their likenesses to obtain 
 fresh sitters. 
 
 Eollo McKeen was an unusually handsome 
 lad, and even at the age of twelve felt a senti- 
 mental interest in the pretty little Indian girl, 
 Corydalis. When his father moved his "studio" 
 over to Red House the boy remained at the 
 cabin of the Jacobs family. He was there osten- 
 sibly to study woodcraft from the old hunter, 
 who used to tramp every day among the rocks 
 and ravines, locating wolf dens and the haunts 
 of other game. He also indulged in much fish- 
 ing with the old hunter, who, Seneca-like, would 
 not touch the trout in Lewis' Bun, but travelled 
 to the Allegheny to angle for the sweet river fish. 
 His favorite fishing headquarters was near the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 235 
 
 mouth of Sugar Creek. In those days the Alle- 
 gheny was filled with such fish as the pickerel, 
 chub, dace, suckers, shiners and the trout. Also 
 the old man and his boy companion frequently 
 dug out wodchucks which added greatly to the 
 summer larder. Little Corydalis often accom- 
 panied them on their excursions, and a few times 
 Jacobs' old time hunting comrade, Johnny Hot- 
 bread, was with them. Later in the summer 
 they dug ginseng and golden-seal roots and shot 
 many black squirrels. 
 
 Rollo and Corydalis, thrown constantly to- 
 gether and both being old for their years, be- 
 came deeply enamored, and as the time drew 
 near for the boy's father to return to his home 
 in Chatham Valley, Tioga County, for the win- 
 ter, there were many heartaches. No older lov- 
 ers felt more keenly than these youngsters; it 
 was a real passion of loe. Both had a strain of 
 primitive sentiment, which raised their emotion 
 far above the commonplace. It was a clear, 
 moonlight night in the last of September when 
 they took their final stroll together by the path 
 along Lewis' Run. Rollo was planning what 
 they would do when he returned the following
 
 236 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 summer, and every summer thereafter, until 
 they were old enough to be married, which would 
 be when he was twenty-one, Corydalis acquiesc- 
 ing. 
 
 Their favorite walk was to a pigeon roost 
 where they would sit for hours, listening to the 
 sweet, cooing notes of the birds, which never 
 seemed ready to settle down for the night. On 
 this particular evening they found the roost de- 
 serted; it was as silent as a graveyard. There 
 was not a murmur in the giant beech trees to 
 tell where the amorous tenants had gone. 
 
 Corydalis said that she would feel as lonely 
 as the beechwood during the months when her 
 lover was away. ' ' And, ' ' she added sadly, ' ' per. 
 haps neither the pigeons nor yourself will ever 
 return. ' ' 
 
 "Of course I will," said the boy, with the 
 sublime confidence of early youth. 
 
 That night they kissed many times before re- 
 tiring, and in the foggy yellow light of early 
 morning they hid themselves behind the wood- 
 shed for their last love and embraces. 
 
 Ever after that Hollo hated yellow, foggy 
 mornings, they were symbols of disappoint-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 237 
 
 ment. He met his father at the highroad, and 
 they drove away together, the boy all the way 
 talking of what he was to do the next summer. 
 School was already in progress at his home vil- 
 lage, but in the distraction of his tasks, he could 
 not forget his loving and care-free days in the 
 old forest. He wrote the name of Corydalis 
 many times in his geography and copy books, 
 and also cut it on his desk, and on the window- 
 sill in his bedroom. He wrote to her several 
 times, speaking of love and marriage, receiving 
 a few scrawled words of love in return. 
 
 Shortly after the advent of the New Year 
 news came of the death of one of his father's 
 uncles who carried on a large printing business 
 in Philadelphia. The old man was a bachelor, 
 and to conserve his affairs, it was decided that 
 the nephew should go there to manage the estab- 
 lishment. In February the entire McKeen 
 household removed to the City of Brotherly 
 Love. The excitement of moving had much to 
 do with calming Hollo's ardor for the little In- 
 dian girl in the distant wilds. The great city, 
 new interests, new friends, all helped to mark 
 the mental attitude of the impressionable lad.
 
 238 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Though on the first night in his city home he 
 had carved his sweetheart's name on the wood- 
 work in his room, and even started a letter to 
 her which he never finished, which began ' ' Dear- 
 est Corydalis, I miss you very much." It was 
 not that he was fickle, but the latest is the great- 
 est impression to the very young. 
 
 When summer came no mention was made of 
 visiting the wilds of Lewis' Run, a new life had 
 commenced. The erstwhile photographer pros- 
 pered in his new business, he was far from being 
 the travelling mountebank that some of his rela- 
 tives called him. The boy Rollo was bright in 
 his studies, and showed a decided tendency to- 
 wards literary composition. He wrote verses 
 and little hunting stories, which were commend- 
 ed by his teachers. He would become an editor, 
 teacher, lawyer, various members of the family 
 predicted. His good looks made him a prime 
 favorite everywhere, even with his parents, 
 brothers and sisters. He passed through the 
 common school, the high school, with distinction, 
 and was entered at the University. There he 
 made many friends among students allied with
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 239 
 
 the old Quaker families and visited at their 
 homes. 
 
 Of all of these his particular chum in his 
 upper class days was a lad named Victor Mor- 
 ris, who had a beautiful sister named Wistaria. 
 The first time that Rollo met her he thought how 
 strange it was that the two girls whom he had 
 admired most both had the names of flowers, 
 Corydalis and Wistaria. 
 
 Wistaria Morris was about two years his 
 junior, or approximately the same age as Cory- 
 dalis Jacobs. She had pale, blue eyes, much 
 the same color as those of the flower for which 
 she was named; her hair was dun, or pale gold 
 color, like the leaves of the Wistaria vine in 
 early May. Her lips, unlike those of Cory- 
 dalis, were painfully thin. She seemed to like 
 Rollo, although she had many admirers. The 
 country-bred boy was good looking and clever, 
 yet he realized that there was a financial and 
 social gulf between him and his chum's sister, 
 which caused him to go slowly about declaring 
 his love. 
 
 During the last months of his senior year in 
 college the Mo'rris household received a visit
 
 240 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 from a maiden aunt who resided in the western 
 part of New York State, a Miss Barbara Ogden. 
 She met Hollo McKeen at dinner one night and 
 seemed much interested when she learned that 
 he had spent some of his youthful days among 
 the Seneca Indians. She said that shortly after 
 she had named her niece Wistaria for her fav- 
 orite flower she had given a little Indian girl 
 the name of Corydalis, after another much loved 
 blossom. 
 
 Rollo, for some unaccountable reason, felt his 
 heart beat violently. He asked the lady if the 
 little girl's last name was Jacobs, if so he knew 
 her and her parents well. 
 
 She replied that he was correct, and later in 
 the evening went to her room and brought down 
 a tiny photograph of the little girl, decked out 
 in her gold-bead chain and other finery. On the 
 back of the card was stamped "William Mc- 
 Keen, Photographer." 
 
 Eollo admitted frankly that it had been taken 
 by his father. This established the boy's social 
 status, and finally determined Wistaria, who 
 was at heart a believer in caste, in a step she 
 was contemplating taking.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 241 
 
 That night Rollo lay awake thinking of his 
 early boyhood, all of which came back to him 
 like in a dream. He was now two months past 
 his twenty-first birthday, when he had prom- 
 ised to come for Corydalis and make Tier nls 
 wife. He wondered where she was, and if she 
 remembered him after all these years ; he chided 
 himself for not having written her. But in the 
 foreground of his heart he saw the fair, elegant 
 image of Wistaria, whom he planned would be 
 his wife some day. 
 
 Three days before Rollo 's graduation, at 
 which he was valedictorian, Wistaria announced 
 her betrothal to one Horace Rambo, a young 
 man of excellent connections, and it took all of 
 the joy out of the exercises, at which he hoped 
 to shine to impress her with his worthiness. The 
 marriage was not to take place until the follow- 
 ing winter, and the disappointed boy imagined 
 he might win her away by that time. He entered 
 a law office, and began his preparations for the 
 bar. He saw Wistaria occasionally, but the 
 chance never came for him to charm her or de- 
 clare himself. She was married with consider- 
 able pomp, the ceremony completely crushing
 
 242 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 out Rollo's interest in his law studies. He en- 
 dured his lacerated feelings until summer,, when 
 he felt that he must have a change of environ- 
 ment, or his heart would break. 
 
 Often, but only at night, he could see the 
 childish image of Corydalis; would it not be 
 interesting to enjoy an outing in the backwoods, 
 and perhaps meet the sweetheart of his youth 
 again. Though he would not admit it, his heart 
 had been ever true to his first love, his con- 
 science pricked him for breaking his promise 
 to her; it was only his pride, his hope of ma- 
 terial advancement that was piqued by his ill- 
 starred attachment for Wistaria. He told his 
 parents of his projected trip; they were glad 
 to have him go anywhere which might improve 
 his spirits; he was suffering from overwork in 
 their opinion. The railroad connections to the 
 Lewis' Run country were better than formerly, 
 otherwise the region was much 'the same as when 
 he was last there ten years before. Lumbering 
 was still being carried on, only sparingly, con- 
 sequently most of the grand old forests were 
 standing; game was abundant, there were even 
 a few wolves, the streams still teemed with fish.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 243 
 
 He met Johnny Hotbread before he had 
 tramped far up the creek. The old fellow was 
 more wrinkled, his hair was snow white, but 
 Hollo recognized him. The Indian said he was 
 living alone in the shanty formerly occupied 
 by Jirn Jacobs. 
 
 "Where's Jim and his family?" inquired 
 Hollo impatiently, on hearing this. 
 
 The aged redskin told him that the Jacobs 
 family had moved away three years previously, 
 that the intrepid old huntsman had learned of 
 some bear caves on Freeman's Run in the very 
 heart of the Black Forest, that he had gone there 
 one Spring with his family and never came back. 
 He supposed that they were doing well. As for 
 Corydalis, she was a big, fine looking girl when 
 she went away. 
 
 Though Rollo was a trifle disappointed at not 
 finding his friends as easily as expected, he was 
 not discouraged. He would enjoy the tramp 
 to the Black Forest and invited Hotbread to ac- 
 company him as guide. The old redskin was 
 glad to accept, as he was always ready to make 
 a little money. Before leaving, the sentimental 
 youth strolled to the old pigeon roost; there
 
 244 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 were no signs of any birds, most of the big beech 
 trees had been cut down for firewood. It was 
 a desolate looking spot. 
 
 The walk over the mountains, which took 
 nearly a week, was ideal from every point of 
 view. The weather was warm, but they trav- 
 elled along shady roads and trails almost the 
 entire distance. The rhododendron and the 
 laurel were in bloom, as well as other mid-sum- 
 mer flowers. At nightfall they usually camped 
 in the woods, the old guide catching a few trout 
 for supper, which he cooked deliciously. On 
 several occasions their dogs' barking evoked an- 
 swers wolfish from the mountain tops. When they 
 came to the waters of Freeman's Eun, they en- 
 countered a couple of timber cruisers who told 
 them that Jim Jacobs' cabin was at the head- 
 waters, which meant that there still were five 
 miles between them and the shanty. The lum- 
 bermen said that the old man had been away 
 from his cabin very little of late, as he was very 
 solicitous about his invalid daughter. 
 
 Hollo's face grew hard when he heard this, 
 and he inquired the cause of her illness.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 245 
 
 "It's lung trouble," replied one of the cruis- 
 ers, "the poor girl has been going downhill for 
 the past year. It doesn't look as if she could 
 last much longer." 
 
 Hollo knew that tuberculosis was the scourge 
 of the Pennsylvania mountain people, especially 
 those with Indian blood, and tears stood out in 
 his blue eyes. He brought his talk with the 
 cruisers to a close and hurried along the run in 
 the direction of the cabin of the aged hunter. 
 When he came in sight of it he could see that 
 it was characteristic of the man who lived in it. 
 In front of the door was a tiny yard, planted 
 with old-fashioned flowers. On nails on either 
 side of the door, hung many rusty bear traps, 
 to be used in the late fall when bruin's coat was 
 in good condition. A wildcat skin hung above 
 the door, fur inward, a huge set of elk horns 
 was nailed above one of the windows, a red- 
 tailed hawk above the other. 
 
 As the door was open, Rollo and Hotbread en- 
 tered, finding old Jacobs, unchanged in appear- 
 ance, seated within, mending a pigeon net. He 
 seemed delighted to see his old friends; he had 
 no trouble in remembering the boyish friend of
 
 246 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 other days, now a full fledged man, with a fine, 
 brown mustache. Hollo asked eagerly after 
 Mammy Jacobs and Corydalis. 
 
 At the mention of his wife's name the old 
 hunter smiled, saying "she's very well," but 
 he looked sad when Corydalis was spoken of. 
 "I am sorry to tell you she's very poorly." 
 
 The young man asked to see her, so Jacobs 
 led the way through the cabin, out to a covered 
 back porch, the pillars overgrown with morning 
 glories, where on a couch, the fair girl lay. Eollo 
 almost dropped fainting when he saw her. What 
 a change time had wrought in her! Though 
 she was barely twenty years old, her emaciated, 
 skull-like, ashen face might have belonged to a 
 woman of seventy. Her intensely black hair was 
 drawn tightly back from her forehead and tem- 
 ples; her great, black eyes literally popped out 
 from the ghastly sockets. Her long, emaciated 
 hands lay limp on the crazy quilt cover, like the 
 hands of a corpse. Under the right hand was 
 half revealed a scrap of paper, yellow with age. 
 Around the girl's neck was the familiar string 
 of gold beads, given her by the wealthy Barbara
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 247 
 
 Ogden long years before. Yet something of her 
 old charm remained, despite her changed estate. 
 
 To Rollo 's surprise, the invalid recognized 
 him instantly, uttering a half-suppressed cry 
 of joy. Mother Jacobs, who had been in the 
 back kitchen, heard her and came rushing in. 
 She too remembered the young visitor, and gave 
 way to hysterical laughter. Then she took Rollo 
 by the hand, exclaiming, ' ' now Corydalis will get 
 well." 
 
 Then she went on to say "the poor girl began 
 to pine away over a year ago when you did not 
 come to keep your promise to her." 
 
 The youth was speechless for a moment, then 
 he spoke out. 
 
 "I thought she had forgotten. I never 
 dreamed she would remember me." 
 
 Then came a voice from the couch, "But you 
 did not forget me, did you, Rollo?" 
 
 "No, I did not," he retorted with truth, 
 "there was never a day but what I thought of 
 you." 
 
 "But why did you not come then, or write 
 a line," said Mother Jacobs, her excitement get- 
 ting the better of discretion.
 
 248 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 "I am very sorry," said the youth, "but 
 many, many reasons detained me. I was get- 
 ting an education, I was working hard, I 
 meant no harm." 
 
 "I forgive you, my dear friend," said Cory- 
 dalis, with her hoarse voice. ''You have come, 
 and folks say that it's always better late than 
 never." Then she began to cough. "When the 
 paroxysm was over she held up the piece of 
 yellow paper. "See," she said, "that is the last 
 letter you wrote to me, it is dated more than 
 seven years ago. In it you repeated your pro- 
 mise to come back and marry me when you were 
 twenty-one. I never lost hope, but my loneli- 
 ness made me what I am today." 
 
 Then she coughed pitifully, and her head 
 dropped, she was exhausted. Whether her dy- 
 ing condition was wholly due to his failure to 
 keep his word, or came from a taint in the blood 
 did not matter to Hollo now. He saw his duty 
 and was going to perform it, regardless of the 
 future or what his family thought. 
 
 "Dearest Corydalis," he said, stooping down 
 and kissing her quivering lips, "I was detained 
 by various circumstances, which I will never
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 249 
 
 cease to regret, but I have come to marry you, 
 and make up for the past. I love you with all 
 my heart." 
 
 The girl smiled faintly, and patches of hectic 
 color rose in her drawn cheeks. 
 
 "I love you, too," she said firmly. 
 
 The young man turned to Mother Jacobs, in- 
 quiring where the nearest preacher was to be 
 found. She informed him that there was a cir- 
 cuit rider who came as far as the other side of 
 the divide, at Roulette, and the next day being 
 Sunday would probably find him there. 
 
 As she was speaking old Jacobs edged close to 
 the boy, laying his hand affectionately on his 
 shoulder. "My son," he said, "you have saved 
 our girl's life. She was pining away for you. 
 I admire you for your honor. No Seneca could 
 have done more." 
 
 "Why did you not write me in all these 
 years? That would have kept the date of my 
 coming fresh in mind," said Hollo, whose pres- 
 ence of mind had returned sufficiently to want 
 to put in a defence. 
 
 "Because," broke in Mother Jacobs, "none 
 of us wrote very well, except Corydalis, and she
 
 250 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 kept saying that if you cared to come you would 
 be here without a letter to bring you." 
 
 Then Hollo said he would start across the 
 mountain immediately, and return with the 
 preacher the next evening. It was after dark 
 when the young man, accompanied by the faith- 
 ful Hotbread, reached the quaint little town 
 among the hills. They put up for the night 
 with an old man who burned tar, and whose 
 cabin and fragrant smelting pits were located 
 across the road from the little Disciple Church. 
 The next afternoon, before the bearded circuit- 
 rider could dismount from his horse, Rollo had 
 approached him and gained his consent to go to 
 Freeman's Run and perform the ceremony. The 
 young man attended Sunday School and ' ' preach- 
 ing," which was purposely shortened, and then 
 the Indian, the bridegroom-to-be, and the cler- 
 gyman started across the high mountain. The 
 sunset was no more when they got to Jim Ja- 
 cobs' cabin, where they found the old man wait- 
 ing outside, so as to bring the news to Corydalis 
 the minute he saw the party approaching. 
 
 He hastened to the back porch when he espied 
 them, and the girl's face lighted up with loving
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 251 
 
 expectancy. Candles were brought in, and 
 Hollo took his fiancee's cold hand, and was unit- 
 ed to her in marriage. That night was the hap- 
 piest for many years in the poor sufferer's life; 
 she fell asleep with a smile on her lips. 
 
 It was half past one in the morning that 
 Mother Jacobs, who slept with Corydalis, came 
 running into the house to say that the poor girl 
 was choking to death. Hollo, carrying a candle 
 was the first to reach her side. Placing the light, 
 the flame of which the night wind threatened to 
 extinguish, on a chair, he fell on his knees be- 
 side her. She placed her arms around his neck 
 while she raised herself up in an effort to articu- 
 late. With a final effort she spoke, and said in 
 a normal tone of voice : ' ' Oh, Rollo, my darling, 
 I am so happy. I will never grieve again. ' ' 
 
 Then she sank back, breathed heavily three or 
 four times, her hands and feet grew cold, she 
 expired. Rollo accompanied her body across the 
 mountain, where it was laid to rest in the tiny 
 churchyard in Roulette. When he gazed at her 
 for the last time on the brink of the grave, the 
 look of emaciation had vanished, the smile was 
 sweeter than ever, just like it was in the happy,
 
 252 
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 carefree days on Lewis' Bun. Much had been 
 added to his human experience by the time the 
 young man got back to Philadelphia once more. 
 But for the rest of his life, which was many 
 years, he was true to the spirit of Corydalis,
 
 XII. 
 
 THE MOMENT THE LIGHTS WERE LIT. 
 (A Romance of the Mountains.) 
 
 UBERT Le Grand, represent- 
 ing Isabella II. Queen of 
 Spain, was on his way to the 
 Tangascootac region to report 
 on the value and management 
 of the august ruler's vast properties, which in- 
 cluded thousands of acres of timber and coal 
 lands in the vicinity of the Susquehanna, and 
 extending to the north into the Black Forest. 
 It was a novel experience for this young man 
 of twenty-four, who had been born in Madrid of 
 French parents. Incidentally, he was riding 
 on one of the first trains to run through from 
 Harrisburg to Farrandsville, the Sunbury and 
 Erie Railway having been only recently com- 
 pleted on to Rattlesnake, now Wetham, from its 
 former terminus at Lock Haven. 
 
 When the train, with its wood-burner engine 
 and bulbous smokestack left the imposing depot 
 
 253
 
 254 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 at Harrisburg amid much puffing of black smoke, 
 a scene of rare beauty spread out before the 
 travellers. It is a beautiful ride today, but was 
 more so half a century ago, before the ruthless 
 hand of man had desolated the forests and 
 ripped off whole sides of the majestic mountains 
 for his stone-crushers. 
 
 It was about three o'clock, in the full glory 
 of the afternoon, when the train emerged from 
 the shed. In the distance loomed the dark line 
 of the First Mountain, deeply indented at the 
 ' ' Narrows " as if to let the river and the railway 
 through. As the train neared Dauphin, a moun- 
 tain of majestic grandeur rose sheer up from 
 the tracks. Tiny log cabins nestled among the 
 pine forests on its sides. The old canal-boats, 
 drawn by drowsy horses, decked out with bells 
 and plumes, drifted along on the side of the 
 tracks nearest the river; the drivers cracked 
 their blacksnake whips, the heavy boats left a 
 long trail of shadow in the clear water. Beyond 
 was the on-rushing and imposing tide of the 
 lardly Susquehanna, dotted with shady islands. 
 Over its expanses water-birds were flying.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 255 
 
 Every few miles it seemed that clear, sparkling 
 brooks, Paxton, Fishing, Stony, Clark 's, Powell 's 
 and Armstrong's Creeks, ran out from the nar- 
 row valleys between the mountain ranges, invit- 
 ing leisurely exploration, and all kinds of specu- 
 lation as to the wild regions where they rose. 
 The chin-bearded conductor, a pompous indi- 
 vidual, in a broad-cloth suit, a white rose in his 
 button-hole, and a silk hat, pulled the bell rope 
 with his kid-gloved hand when the train drew 
 into such quaint little settlements as Fort Hun- 
 ter, Shupps, Speeceville, Green's Dam, and 
 Fort Halifax. 
 
 The young Frenchman was so absorbed by 
 these wild and unusual scenes, that it was not 
 until after the conductor had called out a name 
 in his own language,, ''Dauphin, Dauphin, Dau- 
 phin, ' ' that he adjusted himself to his surround- 
 ings sufficiently to begin to study his fellow- 
 travellers. And a most interesting lot they 
 were, different from any he "had seen in his life. 
 Many of them were lumbermen, sturdy, black- 
 bearded fellows, who had removed their coats 
 to find relief from the August heat, and sat in 
 their red shirts, silent and impassive.
 
 256 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 There were numerous women and children of 
 the brunette type, except that a few of them had 
 fine, blue eyes, which set off in bolder relief the 
 intense blackness of their hair. They represented 
 a type evolved by hardships and frontier life, 
 which a generation or two softened into brown 
 and fair haired beings with the easier conditions 
 of existence. 
 
 On the sunny side of the coach, the side near- 
 est the river, the Frenchman noticed one per- 
 son, a young girl, whose hair was comparatively 
 light. It was noticeable partly because the other 
 passengers were so dark, partly because the deep 
 rays of the afternoon sun gilded the fair, natur- 
 ally wavy locks into the color of molten metal. 
 The girl wore a small "cherry-box" hat, and 
 her heavy "waterfall" locks were kept in place 
 by a net. She wore a lace fascinator over her 
 black silk dress. She had lovely shoulders, and 
 her graceful neck was ornamented by a heavy 
 string of red coral beads. 
 
 Though she seemed "better class" than the 
 other travellers, and her fairness was a relief 
 after so many dark tresses, she sat in a position 
 where the ytmng man could barely observte her
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 257 
 
 features. He gazed at her many times, but the 
 frequent stopping of the train, and the rugged 
 landscape outside, diverted him from a too con- 
 tinual scrutiny. He wondered who she might 
 be, and where she was going that glorious after- 
 noon, when the breezes stirred the leaves and 
 corn and rippled the waters of river, canal, and 
 creeks so wonderfully. 
 
 The sight of this fair creature made the time 
 pass even more quickly than it would have oth- 
 erwise. Millersburg was called out in stentorian 
 tones, and the train halted at the curious little 
 station. It appeared as if the entire population 
 had assembled there to greet the arrival of the 
 afternoon train just as they do to-day. In ap- 
 pearance these villagers were much the same as 
 Hubert's fellow-travellers; they were extremely 
 handsome, yet so different from any people he 
 had ever seen before ! Most of the occupants of 
 the coach were getting out at this stop. They 
 filed up the aisle to the front door of the car, 
 smiling and chatting, their seriousness while the 
 train was in motion having quickly vanished. 
 
 Among the first to get out was the charming 
 light-haired girl, with the cherry-box hat and the
 
 268 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 heavy red corals. Hubert looked out of the win- 
 dow; to his surprise and infinite pleasure, the 
 fair creature stood before him on the platform. 
 He saw her full face. She was the most beauti- 
 ful human being he had ever looked at. He 
 made no mental reservations, he who had seen 
 beautiful women in half the capitals of Europe. 
 She looked to be about nineteen or twenty years 
 of age, an ash-blonde, of more than medium 
 height. She was slender, with complexion rath- 
 er pale. There was a universe of love in those 
 deep-set, drooping, almond-shaped eyes. Her 
 lips were full, the corners of the mouth descend- 
 ing, and in an expression of expectancy, she 
 showed a little of her teeth, which were white, 
 but strangely set very far apart. She had rolled 
 back her gloves, showing hands exquisitely 
 white, with long, tapering fingers. 
 
 She was carrying a small, black satchel ; either 
 she was going on or coming from a visit. Yet 
 there seemed to be no one on the platform with 
 whom she was acquainted. The young traveller 
 was instantly deeply in love. He should have 
 gotten off the train. But it had started, amid 
 much puffing and bell-ringing as their eyes met ;
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 259 
 
 really he had never seen such grey eyes as hers, 
 with such fine, black lashes and brows. But they 
 were not open wide enough to reveal their whole 
 story. 
 
 When the train stopped again at Liverpool, 
 he had a strong impulse to get out. Instead he 
 gazed up at the unscalable height of Mahan- 
 tongo Mountain, with gaunt pine trees shivering 
 in the wind on its crest, the queer old well at 
 its foot, the broad river, with the town on the 
 far shore with its big brick warehouse, the mas- 
 sive-looking Susquehanna House, and the iron 
 foundry looming above the other buildings and 
 the soft, green hills beyond. 
 
 He allowed the train to start with him still 
 on it. The same impulse seized him at Dalma- 
 tia, Herndon, Selin's Grove Junction. But he 
 remained on board suffering more intently. He 
 could stand it no longer, when at sunset, the 
 train pulled into another great terminus, Sun- 
 bury. There he left the train abruptly, fortu- 
 nately finding that another train for the East 
 was starting in a few minutes. 
 
 The east-bound journey seemed longer than 
 the entire trip from Nerw York to Sunb'ury had
 
 260 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 been. He chafed and fretted at the slowness in 
 reaching the stations, he barely noticed the ball 
 of the red setting sun poised on the very horizon 
 and spreading its fiery effulgence over the entire 
 broad river. Darkness, sweet, cool, summer dark- 
 ness had settled down; the crickets' chorus was 
 wafted through the open car windows. The con- 
 ductor, equally as self-important as the one on 
 the west bound train had been, called out for the 
 stop at Millersburg. There were still a goodly 
 number of people at the station, which was il- 
 luminated by tallow candles set in glass lantern- 
 boxes; Hubert scanned their dark faces eagerly, 
 they were not like his fair beloved. "Where would 
 he find her, who would he ask about her? The 
 faces he saw about him seemed to grow unsym- 
 pathetic and distant, even in the candle-light. 
 
 He watched the red lights on the rear of the 
 train, as it disappeared into the darkness. A 
 feeling of loneliness and desolation came over 
 him; it was the first time that he had felt it in 
 America. There was still light in the station. 
 Through an open window it poured out on the 
 platform; there was the, musical clicking of the 
 telegraph keys. Inside the window, sat a young
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 261 
 
 man with black hair and eyes and black side- 
 whiskers; he seemed genial and approachable; 
 whom else could he question? He addressed the 
 operator in broken English, being answered by 
 the youth in phrases equally unfinished. 
 
 The French boy inquired of the telegrapher 
 if he spoke German, to which he replied that he 
 could only speak the German of Pennsylvania. 
 So they both conversed in broken English. Hu- 
 bert asked if the operator had seen a young girl, 
 whom he described minutely, getting off the 
 train from Harrisburg that afternoon. The rail- 
 roader smiled; his sympathetic interest was 
 aroused, but he said that he had noticed no such 
 person. Nor did he recollect any girl in the 
 town or vicinity who answered the description. 
 
 "Come to the depot at train time for two or 
 three days ; you will find her if she lives here, ' ' 
 was his advice. 
 
 The Frenchman could wait a day or two, and 
 the advice sounded good. The young operator 
 directed him to an old inn which stood facing 
 the public square; it was on the hill some dis- 
 tance back of the station. The town had a for- 
 eign look, especially the open square which was
 
 262 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 much like some old city in Provence or in Spain. 
 The young lover dreamed of the fair vision all 
 that night, but his sleep refreshed him. 
 
 Bright and early he was at the station next 
 morning; he saw the incoming of all the trains 
 that day. The customary throngs were on hand, 
 but he saw no one who even remotely resembled 
 his beloved. Between trains, he walked down to 
 the banks of the swift flowing Wiconisko, which 
 rushed along so pure and rippling from its 
 source at the head of the valley, from a line of 
 mountains which resembled a landscape in Sa- 
 voy. He day-dreamed and meditated under an 
 aged buttonwood tree by the stream until he 
 heard the whistle of the trains, every time suf- 
 fering most keenly from disappointment. He re- 
 mained a second night in the old town; if she 
 did not appear at the station by the time of the 
 arrival of the next afternon train from the east, 
 he would board it and proceed on his way. 
 
 From subsequent talks with the black-whis- 
 wered agent he came to the conclusion that the 
 girl could not live in town. If she was visiting 
 there, it was strange that she did not frequent 
 the station like everybody else to see the trains
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 263 
 
 come in. "Even the High Zekes," as the opera- 
 tor called the local aristocracy of Scotch-Irish 
 land-owners, rarely missed the arrival of the 
 trains. 
 
 Hubert, with many feelings of sadness, board- 
 ed the afternoon train for the west the following 
 day. He left his name and address with the 
 operator who promised to write him in case such 
 a girl as he described appeared at the station 
 later on. He travelled on up the fair valley, 
 the scenery impressing him as much as ever, but 
 tinged with an overpowering sadness. It be- 
 came somewhat dark shortly after the train left 
 Sunbury, he could barely make out the gorgeous 
 "meeting of the waters," where the North and 
 West Branches of the Susquehanna unite their 
 destinies at Northumberland. His travelling 
 companions became stupid and sleepy; his con- 
 sciousness suffering from a heart-sore was keen- 
 ly awake; how differently he felt from everyone 
 else in the coach. He had never felt his con- 
 sciousness so acute, he had never been so un- 
 happy. 
 
 At Lock Haven, the local agent of his royal 
 employer met him on the train. It was a for-
 
 264 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 tuitous break in the single line of thought. The 
 agent, John Sommerville by name, a big, jovial 
 Scotchman, had much to tell about the itinerary 
 mapped out for the young man's sojourn, and 
 began explaining away some of the unsatisfac- 
 tory results of the past operations of the prop- 
 erty. The time passed speedily until Farrands- 
 ville was reached, where the Scotchman and the 
 French lad left the train. They would spend 
 the night at some sleeping apartments fitted up 
 in the offices of the estate near the railway sta- 
 tion, and in the morning drive to the agent's 
 home on 'Scotac Eun. 
 
 An early start was made in a handsome lan- 
 dau, drawn by two powerful, black horses, driv- 
 en by a liveried negro coachman, Hartshorne 
 Patterson, which met the party on the opposite 
 bank of the river, after they had crossed 
 it in a row-boat. The road led through a 
 primeval forest of white pine, hemlock, beech, 
 birch and maple; there were rhododendron 
 trees forty feet high, which still retained 
 a few late, waxy-like blossoms. They crossed 
 and re-crossed the run, which foamed and eddied 
 and raced over the rocky bed. It was filled with
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 265 
 
 trout and other gamey fish, the Scotchman said. 
 He dilated on the plentitude of the game ; there 
 had been elks or Pennsylvania stags, in the for- 
 est until a few years previous, now they had 
 been driven further north; there were still pan- 
 thers, brown bears, black bears, wild-cats, per- 
 haps a wolf or two, many foxes and countless 
 deer. Every hundred yards or so ruffed grouse 
 flew up beside the road, or quail trotted in front 
 of the horses' feet. Songs of rare warblers 
 echoed from among the giant trees. It was in- 
 deed a rare treat to see nature in her own ha- 
 biliment, before it was torn away by man's ra- 
 pacity. 
 
 The Frenchman wondered why he met no wa- 
 gons hauling ore, coal, or lumber, and at last 
 inquired of the superintendent. The war had 
 caused a drop in prices, it did not pay to ship 
 anything at the present time, was the reply. 
 At noon, they emerged into a vast clearing. On 
 a treeless knoll, which rose near the brook, 
 stood the spacious residence of the agent. It 
 was built in the latest, the French style of archi- 
 tecture, with a Mansart roof, and tall windows.
 
 266 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 The entrance, which was imposing, led into a 
 large hall, on one side of which was an open 
 fire place with an imported marble mantel. Tall 
 mirrors in gilt frames were between the win- 
 dows; the walnut furniture was upholstered in 
 silk and plush. Several oil paintings hung on 
 the walls. In the tremendous clearing which 
 stretched as far as the timber line on the tops 
 of the ridges on all sides of the mansion, were 
 piles of earth, ore and coal, showing the loca- 
 tions of the mines. Great skidways of pine logs 
 were stacked along the roads; stumps, lop, and 
 tops were everywhere. There were many dilapi- 
 dated workmen's shanties most of which looked 
 to be uninhabited. 
 
 A negro butler had opened the carriage door, 
 and carried the young Frenchman's luggage 
 into the house. There was an imposing stair- 
 case, with walnut bannisters, and a red carpet, 
 up which the youthful visitor was led to his 
 room. It was a vast apartment with a mahog- 
 any four-poster bed in the centre. There was 
 very little furniture besides, only what was ab- 
 solutely necessary. On the walls hung framed 
 engravings of Queen Isabella and her mother
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 267 
 
 Christina. The butler deposited the baggage 
 on the floor, and threw open the shutters of one 
 of the big windows. It offered a superb pano- 
 rama of endless ranges of mountains, culminat- 
 ing in the knob-like head of Mount Pipsisseway. 
 
 But there was a loneliness to everything which 
 the young Frenchman, globe-trotter that he was, 
 could not understand. He had a longing to get 
 away; he feared that he could not summon up 
 enough interest to make his mission a success. 
 Accompanied by the Scotch superintendent and 
 several of his factotums, visits were made to the 
 mines, ore-banks and logging camps. There was 
 plenty of available material, but it looked to be 
 going to waste. Yet the heavy operating ex- 
 penses still ran on. 
 
 After a couple of days on the 'Scootac a trip 
 to other parts of the domain was proposed. This 
 time they were to visit the famous Black Forest 
 where the highest grade timber was standing. 
 When they came to the railway, a train was 
 making ready to start for the East. Hubert 
 could scarcely restrain himself from climbing 
 on board, abandoning everything for his will o' 
 the wisp love. He travelled up Lick Kun with his
 
 268 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 associates, passing many lumbering operations. 
 Rafts were being built for the fall floods, and 
 logs being piled on the banks to be rolled in at 
 high water. But these activities, it was explained 
 to him, were on other people's lands. On both 
 sides of the Coudersport Pike, leading over to 
 the waters of Salmon Creek, the royal forests 
 were located. 
 
 Fine as was the timber on Tangascootac it was 
 exceeded in every way by what the young 
 Frenchman saw in the Black Forest. The hem- 
 locks and pines grew to the height of nearly two 
 hundred feet, bare of limbs to a height of over 
 a hundred feet, straight as gun-barrels, and as 
 thick together to use the woodsmen's expression 
 "as hair on a dog's back." 
 
 The night was spent at a hunter's cabin in 
 the primitive little village of Haneyville, where 
 Hubert suffered more than ever from the pangs 
 of heart-hungriness. About midnight, he woke 
 up to hear some pitiful cries, like a woman in 
 distress, in the dense wood across the road from 
 the house. It sounded like his own heart giving 
 vent to its misery. He endured it as long as he 
 could. Then he dressed and went downstairs
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 269 
 
 and woke up a teamster who slept in a bunk in 
 the kitchen. The fellow who was a Swiss-Ger- 
 man, growled when the youth shook him, even- 
 tually sitting up. 
 
 He listened to the plaintive cries for a minute 
 or two, then he laid down grumbling about it 
 only being "that damned hellcramite of ben- 
 der. ' ' Hubert divined that the sound came from 
 some animal, so returned to his room rather 
 sheepishly. In the morning he mentioned the 
 subject at breakfast. 
 
 "It might have been a panther," said an old 
 timber skidder who sat opposite to him at the 
 table, "only it's the rarest thing when they 
 utter a sound this early in the year." 
 
 Several days were spent in the Black Forest, 
 and then the young man said he would have to 
 go to Harrisburg for a few days before begin- 
 ning his actual work at the properties. His 
 spirit was compelling him to renew his search 
 for the illusive beauty whom he had seen at 
 Millersburg. He went as far as the capital, 
 then turned about and remained two days at 
 Millersburg, without adding to his hopes.
 
 270 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Returning to the 'Scootac, he remained until 
 shortly before Christmas, preparing a report and 
 reorganizing the system of management, work- 
 ing as hard as he knew how. But he did not 
 forget a trip to Harrisburg, which he took 
 soon after this time and another stay at Millers- 
 burg only served to deepen his anguish. He re- 
 turned to the wilds only to make similar trips 
 East in January, February and March. The 
 Scotch superintendent, in his stolid way, chided 
 the lad for having a girl somewhere otherwise 
 he could not grasp the idea why he would want 
 to take so many tedious car-rides. 
 
 In April, he decided to visit Philadelphia, 
 feeling that a big city might ease the burden of 
 his heart for a few days. But he felt lonelier 
 there than ever, although he was in the centre 
 of the gay life at the Girard House. It was to- 
 wards the middle of Apr.il when he boarded the 
 morning train at the main station of the Penn- 
 sylvania Railroad, bound again for the wilder- 
 ness. 
 
 The winter had been a long and hard one, but 
 a few signs of returning Spring were apparent 
 east of Harrisburg, Jonquils, or as they are
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 271 
 
 called in the interior, "Easter flowers," were 
 trying to unfold their yellow heads in garden 
 corners and in old graveyards, dandelions were 
 out in profusion, and the sunshine was expand- 
 ing the buds of the magnolias. Spice bushes 
 were a gleam of gold; the brown hillsides were 
 dotted with the snow-like patches of Juneberry 
 and wild cherry blossoms. The leafless woods 
 were having carpets of bottle-green skunk cab- 
 bage laid for them. When the car- windows were 
 opened, a sweet odor of grass was wafted in, 
 or the snatch of a robin's or a flicker's song, or 
 the metallic notes of the hylodes in the bogs. 
 Yet it was an uneventful journey at least as 
 far as Harrisburg. 
 
 After leaving there, the young man's heart 
 bounded with joy, he was on sacred ground. He 
 wondered where his fair one could be, eight 
 months had passed since he had seen her, and 
 their eyes had met! The First Mountain, like 
 a wall betwen him and his heart's desire, loomed 
 before him; as the train moved through it, in 
 the Narrows, he realized that even barriers like 
 that can be passed. There was an old family 
 burying ground near the shore of Paxton Greek
 
 272 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 with the graves of the slaves more humbly 
 marked outside the pale. They were shaded by 
 mammoth chestnut trees. This had impressed 
 him every time he passed it; it seemed ever the 
 same like his own inscrutable fate. 
 
 The afternoon was becoming more golden and 
 clear cut as Stony, Clark's, Powell's, Arm- 
 strong's and "Wiconisko Creeks wore passed. His 
 heart beat fast when the last was crossed over. 
 He could see the old buttonwood tree under 
 which he had so often sat waiting for the trains 
 to whistle. 
 
 The usual stop was made at quaint old Millers- 
 burg; he could see the swarthy agent on the 
 platform putting on the mail bag, the merry 
 throng greeting or God-speeding their friends. 
 Then Liverpool hove in sight with its great body 
 of dead water, which the natives called the 
 "Irish Sea," and the little town on the distant 
 shore; and just beyond the western slopes of 
 mighty Mahantango Mountain, the curious little 
 village of the same name. Then the beautiful 
 oak-shaded Mahantango Creek came in view, 
 with Halcyons darting over the smooth waters, 
 symbols of peacfe and the golden hour. On one
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 273 
 
 side were the sun-kissed mountains, the other 
 side the broad, brave river frowning anon for 
 lack of similar favors. Great grey clouds banked 
 themselves against the sun, even shutting it off 
 from the favored summits. 
 
 A few red rays of sunset, then all was over as 
 far as day was concerned. Dusk set in quickly, 
 for the newly-born Spring day was tired. 
 Mahanoy Creek, deep, sullen, and intense was 
 crossed, a wild swan was flying down it, a pall 
 was settling like a coming storm. Cattle moved 
 uneasily towards the overshoots of the big red 
 barns. The wind swayed the streamers of a pre- 
 cocious-leafed weeping willow, near an old log 
 house. 
 
 The portly, immaculately attired conductor rose 
 in his seat and languidly pulled the signal cord 
 with his gloved hand. ' ' Fisher 's Ferry, ' ' he called 
 out once, scorning to repeat the name because of 
 its lack of importance as a station stop. It had 
 become quite dark. Just as the train was slow- 
 ing down, Hubert Le Grand looked out of the 
 car window. The lights were being lit in a digni- 
 fied old stone house, which stood on the river 
 bank. There was a flash and a gleam of warm,
 
 274 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 yellow light, several faces stood clearly revealed 
 by it. A young girl, with clear-cut features, ash 
 blonde, broadfaced, slender, beautiful, was gaz- 
 ing out of a rear window, which opened upon the 
 blowy, night-swept river. Wonder of wonders! 
 Hubert Le Grand, jumping from his seat, 
 pressed his face against the sash. It was the 
 girl he had seen and loved the year before, who 
 had left the train at Millersburg. Gathering 
 together his overcoat, stick and portmanteau, he 
 lost no time in leaving the train at Fisher's 
 Ferry.
 
 XIII. 
 
 HUGH MITCHELTEEE. 
 
 (A Story of the Genesee Fork). 
 
 HEN Hugh Mitcheltree, cursing 
 and yelling, was carried off by 
 six Indians in full view and 
 range of the terrified garrison 
 of Pomfret Castle, a fort built 
 for defense against the savages on the headwaters 
 of Upper Mahantango Creek, in what is now 
 Snyder County, it was generally supposed that he 
 was taken to some secluded grove to be scalped 
 and tortured to death, much as crows fly with a 
 chicken to a mountain top where they can pick it 
 to pieces unmolested. But far from such being 
 the case, he was not killed at all. 
 
 This stalwart, red-headed Irishman had left 
 the fort one evening and crossed the little creek 
 which flowed beside it, to fodder his cattle which 
 he kept in a log-stockade on the opposite bank; 
 back of the cattle-pen was the forest, which also 
 extended to the rear of the fort. While he was 
 
 276
 
 276 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 feeding the animals the Indians were crouching 
 at the edge of the woods. As he emerged from 
 the enclosure they rushed forward from both 
 sides, closing in on their victim, and picking him 
 up on their powerful shoulders as though he 
 were a sack of flour. Mitcheltree called loudly 
 for assistance, as but fifteen minutes earlier he 
 had left ten sturdy frontiersmen armed with 
 rifles in the fort. The men appeared at the gun- 
 holes, but were apparently too panic-stricken to 
 shoot. The captive added curses to his reper- 
 toire of yells, but nothing could flinch the red- 
 men in their purpose of carrying him away. 
 
 After the captors had vanished from sight in 
 the dense timber at the rear of the fort, the 
 valiant defenders came out, looking around 
 wildly, and brandishing their fire-arms. They 
 loosed their dogs, which took up the trail, but 
 this accomplished no purpose, as the frontiers- 
 men refused to follow them. The winter night 
 soon closed in on the scene, and the garrison of 
 Pomfret Castle huddled about their blazing fire, 
 apparently more anxious to keep warm than to 
 rescue their fellow guardsman. As no commis- 
 sioned officers we're prese'nt at this deplorable
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 277 
 
 piece of cowardice, this true story might never 
 have been known had not several of the men 
 revealed it themselves when they became very 
 old and childish, long years afterwards. 
 
 Hugh Mitcheltree belonged to a numerous 
 family, who had arrived in Central Pennsyl- 
 vania from Donegal in Ireland, about 1740. At 
 the time of Hugh's disappearance in 1756, he 
 was in his twenty-first year. His father, known 
 as "old Patt" was dead, but his mother, Cathe- 
 rine, who was an unusually forceful woman, his 
 brother, "young Patt," and other brothers and 
 sisters afterwards raised quite an outcry over 
 the Indians' audacity. But even they did not 
 know that he had been carried off without a 
 single shot having been passed in his defense. 
 
 To avenge his probable death, the Mitcheltree 
 boys, seven in number, became an unofficial band 
 of Indian fighters, shooting down any redmen 
 whom they encountered during their wanderings 
 in the forests. "Young Patt" Mitcheltree was 
 considered one of the most expert riflemen of his 
 generation, and was feared by the savages. In 
 appearance he was different from the lamented 
 Hugh, being small and dark, with piercing steel
 
 278 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 grey eyes. He was said to resemble his mother's 
 family, the McGuigans. Young Patt catechized 
 the garrison, but they declared that they did not 
 know the identity of a single Indian concerned 
 in the dastardly act. They knew whom most 
 of the "bad" Indians were who frequented the 
 Shade, Jack's and Firestone Mountains, and had 
 names for them, but Hugh 's kidnappers could be 
 none of these. They described them as six very 
 tall, very dark complexioned warriors, dressed 
 differently from any Indians they had ever seen. 
 They seemed to have no guns, but carried scalp- 
 ing knives in their belts. It was all over so 
 quickly, and the hour was so late, that their shots 
 went wide, they solemnly averred. 
 
 Old Mother Mitcheltree became possessed with 
 the one idea of finding her boy, she could talk, 
 think or dream of nothing else. She believed 
 that he was being held for ransom, but up to 
 the time of her death, which occurred when she 
 was over eighty-six years of age, no news direct 
 or indirect had come in. She liked to talk to an 
 old German witch-doctress, named Granny See- 
 bold, who lived on the Susquehanna, near New 
 Buffalo, who was always reassuring her that her
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 279 
 
 boy was alive and well. But the rest of the 
 family, including young Patt, in time came to 
 the conclusion that Hugh had been done away 
 with. His disappearance formed an absorbing 
 topic of conversation as time went on, and it be- 
 gan to take its place in history. 
 
 When children wanted to go out after dark, 
 their parents frightened them by saying that 
 they would be carried off by Indians "like 
 Hughey Mitcheltree. " In that way, the cap- 
 tive 's name became a household word ; he became 
 more famous than if he had served his time in 
 the rangers for the defense of the colony, and 
 then retired to a hum-drum life on some remote 
 hill-top farm. 
 
 As to the actual fate of Mitcheltree, it is pre- 
 served by the Seneca Indians whose ancestors 
 carried him away, and by a few of the old 
 settlers in the Black Forest, who heard it from 
 their parents and grand-parents. The actual 
 story began over a year before the young man 
 was kidnapped. At that time, he was living on 
 his mother's farm, which was close to the west 
 bank of the Susquehanna, at the present village 
 of McKee's Half Falls. The Mitcheltree home-
 
 280 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 stead, a commodious log structure stood on the 
 left side of the old stone tavern, famous in later 
 days when run by "Jumbo" Karstetter for its 
 chicken and waffle suppers. 
 
 On the trail which followed along the river, 
 emigrants, soldiers, travelers, packers, and In- 
 dians were constantly passing. Many delega- 
 tions of distinguished redmen were among the 
 numbers on their way to or from visits to the 
 provincial authorities at Philadelphia or Har- 
 ris's Ferry. They were mostly protestants 
 against the usurpation of their lands by the 
 whites, and generally their attitude eastward 
 bound at least was decidedly belligerent. In 
 many cases, they were flattered and bribed by 
 the Indian agents and Quakers in power, so that 
 they assumed a milder air when working their 
 way homeward. Sometimes they traveled in 
 canoes or batteaus, but many made the long 
 journeys on foot. 
 
 There was a great elm tree, bigger than the 
 historic one at Shackamaxon, which grew over an 
 eddy, famous for its shad fishery, across the 
 trail from the Mitcheltree abode. Some even 
 said that the family name had been originally
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 281 
 
 Mitchel, but the Indians and others had re- 
 ferred to stopping so often under the "Mitchel 
 tree" that the compound name had resulted. At 
 any rate, the huge wide-spreading elm was a 
 favorite resting place for the traveling Indians 
 during the mid-day heat. They often slept there 
 from about ten o'clock in the morning until 
 sunset, and resumed their journeys in the cool 
 of the evening. 
 
 The Mitcheltree family were always on friend- 
 ly terms with the savages, especially big burly 
 Hugh. This impressive looking youth had a 
 shock of stiff red hair, pale blue eyes, a big nose, 
 full lips and a freckled face. He was as strong 
 as an ox; even when in his teens he weighed 
 two hundred pounds, which filled out his frame 
 very well, for he stood over six feet in height. 
 All the Indians liked him, and his name was 
 passed on among them as being a particularly 
 fair-minded and honorable white man. 
 
 Among the Indian embassies which passed 
 down the trail was one headed by a skilful Sen- 
 eca diplomat, named New Arrow; in later years 
 he was famed for his polished addresses to 
 Presidents Washington and Jefferson. He was
 
 282 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 an intimate friend of the mighty chieftains, 
 Cornplant and Ked Jacket. "With a dozen al- 
 most equally illustrious of his tribesmen, such as 
 Young King, Little Billy, Seneca White, Tall 
 Peter and Henry Two Guns, he visited Philadel- 
 phia to protest against some atrocities com- 
 mitted against his people by the whites. The 
 wives and sisters of some of the Indians accom- 
 panied them. They were men and women all 
 magnificently attired, wearing feathers, beads, 
 gold nose and ear-rings, and vari-colored 
 blankets. 
 
 One day they stopped for their siesta under 
 the Mitchel Tree. In the party was New Ar- 
 row's beautiful sister, the Princess Sasapah, or 
 The Firefly. At this time she was a girl of about 
 eighteen years, rather slim and under the 
 medium size. But she was graceful and spright- 
 ly, and possessed a beautiful pair of black eyes 
 and an expressive countenance. She was always 
 tastefully dressed, and wore red birds' wings in 
 her hair. She was what might be called a ' ' wide- 
 awake" for while the other Indians were sleep- 
 ing she was looking about her. She noticed the 
 big red-headed Irish boy, and fell violently in
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 283 
 
 love with him. In every way possible she made 
 glances and sought to form his acquaintance, but 
 he was as shy as a faun, and could not be capti- 
 vated. 
 
 The princess was piqued and heartbroken, but 
 said nothing to her party, with whom she re- 
 sumed the easterly tramp at sundown. But she 
 thought of naught else but the huge ' ' strawberry 
 blonde" during the entire sojourn in Philadel- 
 phia, which lasted several months. 
 
 It was fall when they started homeward, hav- 
 ing been mollified by gifts and promises, as well 
 as liberal entertainment. New Arrow and 
 Young King, the two wisest of the party secretly 
 felt that they had been hoodwinked, as after they 
 left the Quaker City they ''took stock" and 
 found little else but glittering generalities in 
 their packs. Some of the Indians and their wo- 
 men had acquired a taste for liquors, and 
 marched along in maudlin fashion, not knowing 
 or caring whether or not their mission had been 
 successful. The only actually happy and hope- 
 ful person in the whole aggregation was the 
 sprightly Sasapah. As she neared the Mitchel
 
 284 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Tree she began humming an old Seneca love- 
 song. 
 
 The Indians, with so little to show for their 
 long absence, were in no hurry to arrive at their 
 homes, so they gladly accepted the princess's 
 suggestion that they spend a day under the giant 
 elm. It was a bleak, windy day, and yellow 
 leaves were blowing about, so they built several 
 small fires to warm themselves. Again Sasapah 
 saw Hugh Mitcheltree, seeking to charm him 
 with every artifice that nature had given her. 
 But the husky Irish lad only blushed and 
 skulked away back of the log-barn. In his heart 
 he too was smitten, but as he knew not a single 
 word of the redmen's dialect, he considered that 
 becoming acquainted with nothing to say would 
 only make him seem foolish. 
 
 This time Sasapah had a hard task in keeping 
 back her tears when the march began again. 
 She feared that she would never more see her 
 red-headed youth. Everything she had wanted 
 since childhood had been given her; she wanted 
 the Irish boy because he seemed hard to get. 
 She was even thinner than when she had first 
 rested under the big tree. She had difficulty in
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 285 
 
 eating and sleeping, her romance weighed so 
 heavily upon her. New Arrow noticed her 
 altered appearance, but attributed it to home- 
 sickness, and the change of water and food. She 
 sulked most of the time, also flying into violent 
 tempers. All these were signs that she was in 
 love, it was like the clucking irratability of a 
 hen that wants to set, but her brother was too 
 dense to comprehend. But he had his own 
 troubles. 
 
 It would be hard to face the Council of Chiefs 
 with a report consisting of what this Quaker 
 said he would do, and what that Quaker said 
 would never be done again. When they reached 
 the headquarters on the upper reaches of Tia- 
 daghton, Sasapah was so weak and miserable 
 that she could barely walk. Soon after arriving 
 home, she took to her couch, sinking into a kind 
 of stupor or trance. Medicine men and wise 
 men were summoned, who declared that she had 
 caught ''tide- water fever." They gave her all 
 kinds of drastic medicines, and sweated her in a 
 bank of clay, which all but killed her. 
 
 When she realized that she would succumb to 
 such misdirfccte'd treatment, she confessed to her
 
 286 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 brother, New Arrow, of whom she was very 
 fond, that she was in love with a white man. 
 She described his looks, and that he lived in the 
 log-house which stood across the trail from the 
 big elm where they had rested going to and 
 coming from Philadelphia. She must have the 
 youth brought to her, else she would surely die. 
 New Arrow said that it would give him 
 pleasure to meet her wish. The big elm was in 
 the territory of the Lenni-Lenape, who were 
 often unfriendly to the Mingoes, but he would 
 send a band of selected warriors to capture the 
 red-headed boy. He sent for George Silverheels, 
 a young brave who had been in the party, and 
 asked him if he recalled any such big fiery- 
 headed youth. The Indian said that he did ; the 
 lad was Hugh Mitcheltree, whose mother owned 
 the elm, or Mitchel Tree. New Arrow therefore 
 chose Silverheels to lead the party of kidnap- 
 pers. They were cautioned to move through the 
 country carefully, and not make their presence 
 known to white men or Lenni-Lenape. They 
 were to locate the youth at his home or wher- 
 ever he might be, and wait until a good chance 
 arrived to' cap'tur'e him aliv& Thfey we^d to db
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 287 
 
 this even if they remained away a year ; but they 
 must bring him back in that time without harm- 
 ing a hair in his head. 
 
 It was a difficult errand, but the sagacious 
 braves who made up the party were sanguine of 
 success. Their departure reduced Sasapah's 
 malady to the point of convalescing. She was up 
 and about within a week afterwards, actually 
 beginning to hum love songs again. She was 
 confident of having her lover brought to her ; she 
 wanted to be healthy, and good-looking to charm 
 him. Every night she dreamed about him; he 
 was such a superb creature that in her fancy she 
 called him Sissilijah, or the Powerful-Buffa- 
 lo- Who-Butts-Against-and-Breaks-Everything-to- 
 Pieces, as typifying his massive animal strength. 
 Sassapah idealized him in no end of ways. She 
 was in a delirium of love, which grew more in- 
 tense as the time drew near for the kidnapping 
 party to return. 
 
 Meanwhile these Indians under George Silver- 
 heels' leadership were having plenty of excite- 
 ment. First of all, they blundered into a camp 
 of Lenni-Lenape on Pine Creek, a branch of 
 Ka!rotmdinli&;. A skirmish Occurred in which
 
 288 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 they killed three of their enemies, including the 
 chief, One Kalasunay, and George Silverheels 
 himself was badly wounded in his left thigh. 
 The injury left him lame to his dying day, which 
 occurred many years later, when he was nearly 
 a hundred years old. 
 
 This made it necessary to move with greater 
 caution than ever, and they hid in the Seven 
 Mountains in Coxe's Valley for a month before 
 it was safe to venture forth again. They had to 
 leave that remote fastness because they were seen 
 by some white land-prospectors who opened fire 
 on them, wounding another of their party ser- 
 iously, and they escaped into the inaccessible 
 thickets of Green's Valley, hiding there for an- 
 other month. 
 
 When at length they reconnoitered about the 
 Mitchel Tree, they learned that their prize had 
 left home, having volunteered to join the gar- 
 rison at Pomfret Castle. Hugh was a thrifty 
 lad, for he took his cattle with him, and during 
 his periods of inactivity tended to the animals 
 in the pen which he had built across the Ma- 
 hantango from the fort.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 289 
 
 George Silverheels and his party wasted most 
 of the summer waiting for a chance to seize their 
 prey, but the Irish boy seldom went from the 
 fort unattended. When he went out to feed his 
 stock, he was usually guarded by a dozen eager 
 men inside. So much time elapsed that Silver- 
 heels decided to send an Indian back to Princess 
 Sasapah to tell her of the difficulties encount- 
 ered, but that the young man had been located 
 and would be eventually taken captive without 
 any shedding of blood. This Indian was shot 
 at three times on the way, but he seemed to bear 
 a charmed life, as he reached the princess in 
 safety, telling her his cheering story. She sent 
 him back with a message of confidence to his 
 chief. 
 
 Winter was coming on and Silverheels and his 
 aides were becoming desperate. Mitcheltree 
 must have had an inkling of danger, otherwise 
 why was he so timid in his movements. At var- 
 ious times, the skulking savages could have cap- 
 tured every other member of the garrison. One 
 night, when they were sick and tired of waiting, 
 and hiding half-starved in a strange country, 
 surrounded by enemies red and white, they
 
 290 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 resolved to carry their prey away by sheer force 
 in full view of the garrison. Even if a few of 
 their party were shot, it would be better than 
 to lose their man altogether, and be executed 
 upon returning to the princess empty-handed. 
 
 When Mitcheltree went into his cattle-pen to 
 do his feeding they watched him until he came 
 out, then they made a sortie, picking him up in 
 their brawny arms in full view of the dumb- 
 founded garrison. To their even greater sur- 
 prise, not a shot was fired, as they carried the 
 prisoner away shrieking and yelling for help 
 within the trajectory of every firearm in the 
 fort. The garrison was so taken-aback by the 
 bold conduct of the strange-looking savages 
 that not a man of them could fire his gun. It 
 was like ' ' buck fever, ' ' a disease experienced by 
 many huntsmen and descendants of these hardy 
 guardians of rights and liberties upon seeing 
 their first- antle.red stag in the forest. 
 
 As soon as a quiet nook in the woods was 
 reached, the captive was bound and gagged, then 
 taken to the Mingoes' camp in the Shade Moun- 
 tains. There it was explained to him that he was 
 to go on a long journey tb the north; IJ hfe went
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 291 
 
 willingly his pinions, but not his gag would be 
 removed. If he wanted to make trouble, he 
 would be carried bound and gagged the entire 
 distance. Mitcheltree was game under any cir- 
 cumstances, and quickly declared his intention 
 of acting decently if allowed to walk freely on 
 the journey. He had a jolly way with him that 
 the redmen liked, so he became a prime favorite 
 on the long tramp to the big Mingo encampment 
 on Tiadaghton, near the mouth of Upper Trout 
 Run. 
 
 Near the journey's end, the gag was removed, 
 and Silverheels confided to him that he was ex- 
 pected to marry an Indian princess, so as to put 
 him in the proper frame of mind. Quick as a 
 flash, the Irish boy asked if she was the beautiful 
 maiden who wore the red bird wings in her hair, 
 whom he had seen on two occasions at the rendez- 
 vous under the big tree near his old home. The 
 meaning of his capture had dawned on his in- 
 tuitive Celtic mind. 
 
 Silverheels answered in the affirmative, which 
 greatly pleased the future bridegroom. He 
 danced about, and walked twice as fast as be- 
 fore.
 
 292 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 When they were within twenty miles of Sasa- 
 pah's home, a runner was sent on ahead to ac- 
 quaint the princess of her lover's coming, so 
 that she could array herself for the occasion, 
 and have a feast in readiness. When, breathless, 
 the Indian told her the good news, she was be- 
 side herself with joy. Adjusting the red feath- 
 ers in her coal-black hair, she insisted on walk- 
 ing several miles down the trail so as to be the 
 first to greet him. She waited under another 
 giant elm, which grew close to the bank of Tia- 
 daghton, building a fire to warm her pretty pink 
 hands. 
 
 Towards evening, Mitcheltree and his escort 
 hove in sight. Sasapah gave a little scream of 
 joy, and rushed forward, throwing herself in her 
 stalwart lover's arms. The youth gave a shout 
 of sheer happiness. The scene, as described af- 
 terwards by Silverheels, was said to have been so 
 affecting that all of the Indian braves broke 
 down, weeping like children. 
 
 Sasapah and her lover walked back to the big 
 encampment hand in hand like two happy chil- 
 dren. Silverheels and the others filed on ahead. 
 It w'as late at night when they reache'd the settle-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 293 
 
 ment, but watch-fires were blazing, and all the 
 redskins, old and young, were out in gala attire. 
 Several carcasses of elks were roasting, and at 
 the royal fireplace panther chops, an especial 
 delicacy, were being spitted. When the happy 
 company appeared, a great shouting of "Joh 
 Hoh, Joh Hoh," an Indian exclamation of joy, 
 made the woods ring. Then a number of 
 maidens advanced forward, forming a circle 
 about the lovers, dancing and singing touching 
 love ditties. The great chief New Arrow em- 
 braced his new brother-in-law, and led him to 
 the feast. The whole night was spent in danc- 
 ing, singing, shouting and eating. 
 
 The next morning, Hugh Mitcheltree was 
 adopted into the tribe, and in the afternoon his 
 marriage with Princess Sasapah was solemnized 
 with great pomp and ceremony. He took the name 
 of Sissilijah, or thePowerful-Buffalo-Who-Butts- 
 Against-and-Breaks-Everything-to-Pieces. The 
 union was a happy one. A number of chil- 
 dren were born. Sissilijah became an Indian 
 in everything except in coloring. He was 
 one of the greatest hunters of his day. When 
 the white settlers and trappers threatened to
 
 294 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 preempt the fertile patches of ground along the 
 clear waters of Tiadaghton, he moved with his 
 family to the Genesee Fork of the same Creek, 
 which was in the depths of the Black Forest. 
 There he was seldom seen by the whites. The 
 few who did encounter him in the wilderness 
 called him the "Pale Indian." As he grew 
 older, he shunned the neighborhoods where white 
 men might frequent, and in every way sought to 
 prove that he belonged to the Indian race. But 
 there are some who say that towards the end of 
 his life, about the year 1816, he stained his sun- 
 burned face to make it look darker, and traveled 
 on foot to New Buffalo, where he visited the 
 grave of his mother in the old Presbyterian cem- 
 etery near the "dreamy Susquehanna. "
 
 XIV. 
 
 GEORGE SHOVER'S PANTHER. 
 (A Story of Little Miller Run.) 
 
 T was on Christmas Eve that 
 the residents of Haneyville be- 
 came aware of the existence of 
 a "painter" on the Long 
 Mountain, which formed the di- 
 vide between the waters flowing towards Tia- 
 daghton and to the Susquehanna. It was a 
 strange visitor, and very unlike Kriss Kingle, 
 that calm, clear, moon-lit night in 1864. Far 
 out on the very comb of the bold ridge the love- 
 sick brute poured out his anguish to the wilder- 
 ness. By midnight, everybody in the little ham- 
 let was wide awake. The young men and half 
 grown boys crawled into beds together, already 
 planning hunting trips. 
 
 The women and children, so used to the legend 
 of the Pennsylvania lion 's ferocity, covered their 
 heads with the bed clothes. To the old men the 
 weird cries brought back memories of other days, 
 
 296
 
 296 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 when they fought panthers and wolves for the 
 supremacy of the Black Forest. Until the morn- 
 ing star grew dim the panther's song continued, 
 stopping sometimes for half an hour to await an 
 answering call, only to resume again in a sadder 
 key which seemed impatient towards the end. 
 How another panther had gotten into this coun- 
 try which was beginning to teem with lumber- 
 men and hunters was a puzzle to the old men who 
 listened to it. It had either been driven south 
 by dogs, or else had some inkling that a mate 
 existed in the Alleghenies or the Bald Eagles. 
 
 At any rate, it had taken its stand, determined 
 to find a companion if one existed in the endless 
 ranges of mountains which undulated one behind 
 the other in interlocking lines fading into a dim 
 line against the Southern sky. But barely had 
 the panther finished his wailing when several 
 bands of hunters, carrying rifles, and holding 
 bull-dogs on leash were leaving the settlement 
 for the Northern ridges, in the stillness of that 
 Christmas morning. It was a picturesque scene 
 to be sure, the tall pines and hemlocks which 
 still grew close to the northern side of the Cou- 
 dersport Pike were weighted down with snow,
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 297 
 
 the cottages and fields were white, the dark fig- 
 ures of the hunters, who cracked the frosty cov- 
 ering with their boots. That and an occasional 
 Jay bird's nervous cry were the only sounds 
 which broke the wintry silence. But the hunts- 
 men found no satisfaction on the ridges. The 
 four parties formed in the Conaway, Packard, 
 Lovett and Glover families operated independ- 
 ently, but did not locate even the panther's 
 tracks. 
 
 A light skiff of snow had fallen at daybreak, 
 but even that ought not have obscured the foot- 
 prints so completely. It looked as if the pan- 
 ther's cries had come from mountains still fur- 
 ther north and had been amplified and reverbe- 
 rated by the calm of the atmosphere and the 
 high altitude. The hunters returned to their 
 homes to eat a belated "snack" long after dark, 
 having missed their weighty Christmas dinners. 
 
 One hunter, Moses Button, remained in a 
 shanty on the slope of the Long Mountain all 
 night. All the nimrods and their families were 
 on the qui vive that night, thinking that they 
 would be able to locate the exact spot from which 
 the plaintive cries emanated. But the panther
 
 298 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 was silent. There was not a sound, except when 
 towards morning a steady wind swayed into 
 doleful music the shaggy, ice-laden boughs of the 
 original pines and hemlocks. Nothing further 
 was heard from the panther for over a week, to 
 be exact until the night of the second of Janu- 
 ary. The good people of Haneyville had about 
 come to the conclusion that the animal was a 
 "wanderer," a type of panther with no fixed 
 abode which travelled north and south at all 
 times of the year. These were said by the old 
 hunters to be somewhat smaller in size than pan- 
 thers which remained in the vicinity of dens or 
 caves on some particular mountain. 
 
 On the night in question, two young men, 
 Francis Dyer and Johnny Angevine, who resid- 
 ed five miles beyond Haneyville near one of the 
 sources of Young Woman 's Creek, had been call- 
 ing on two young ladies, sisters, whose home was 
 at the foot of Grindstone Hill about three miles 
 east of the settlement. They left their friends' 
 cottage at midnight the night being bright and 
 frosty, driving a horse hitched to a small, old- 
 fashioned bob-sled. About a mile beyond their 
 starting place they passed a small clearing, in
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 299 
 
 which stood the ruins of a lumberman's camp. 
 To quote a contemporary account, "Just as the 
 clearing receded from the view, the young fel- 
 lows were startled by the loud cry of a panther, 
 coming from a thicket by the road-side. The 
 dry limbs cracked as the enormous creature 
 sprang into the road behind them. The moon 
 shone brightly down among the opening tree- 
 tops, as over the snow-covered road, steep and 
 icy the trembling horse hurried the sled along. 
 Deeper and further the forest closed up behind 
 the frightened lads, leaving in their opinion 
 little chance to reach Haneyville in safety. Turn- 
 ing their eyes backwards, the approaching form 
 of the huge panther could be seen within almost 
 a stone's throw leaping along at a rate which 
 corresponded to their own. The silence of the 
 woods, the sounds of the horse 's feet, the crunch- 
 ing of the sled-runners on the frozen snow, the 
 terribly distinct yells of the pursuing animal 
 breaking in upon the surrounding gloom, and 
 their own defenseless condition, made a terrible 
 impression upon the young fugitives' minds. 
 
 "They shot down hill after hill, around curve 
 after curve, without uttering a sound or hardly
 
 300 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 drawing a breath, expecting every moment that 
 the sled would be racked to pieces on some pro- 
 jecting stone or that every spring of the pan- 
 ther would enable him to overtake them. For 
 over two miles the panther's chase continued, 
 giving, as it advanced, its clear, appalling cries 
 at intervals of every minute. When the hill 
 leading to Haneyville was reached they urged 
 the horse up the ascent at a gallop, while the 
 panther slackened his speed perceptibly, and 
 ceased his shrieks, which induced the belief that 
 the chase was abandoned. 
 
 When they emerged from the solitude of the 
 woods, and the open fields and buildings of the 
 tiny settlement were apparent, the boys gave 
 way to a shout of triumph, which to their dis- 
 may, hardly had the echo died away when it 
 was answered by the panther's wild scream 
 which literally froze their blood, coming from 
 the forest behind them." 
 
 They reined their tired and steaming horse in 
 front of the primitive tavern-stand at the cross- 
 roads, kept by ''Dan" Haney, and called loudly 
 for assistance. The startled landlord poked his 
 head out of an upper window, pointing his rifle
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 301 
 
 at the boys in his excitement. Talking both at 
 once, they told him their story, and he invited 
 them to put up their horse in his barn and re- 
 main all night. He dressed himself and helped 
 them unharness, all the while saying, "Honest 
 to Goodness, I haven't heard of anyone seeing a 
 painter around here except this one since 1850, 
 when John Hamilton ran into an old she one and 
 six cubs crossing the Pike at the head of Chat- 
 ham 's Run. ' ' 
 
 The next morning, the old man repeated the 
 boys' adventure to a crowd in the store, and it 
 was decided to renew the hunt. Late that after- 
 noon, Moses Button's dogs came close upon the 
 panther on the ridge north of John Lovett's 
 farm. There was some terrific caterwauling in- 
 dulged in by the brute to frighten his pursuers, 
 which the Lovett family and Button heard dis- 
 tinctly. It had its effect, as the dogs dropped 
 the trail, and galloped back towards the fields 
 with their tails between their legs. It was with 
 difficulty that their owner got them to take up 
 the scent again, but when they did so, the pan- 
 ther had escaped. An hour or so afterwards, 
 Button came upon George Shover, who livexi
 
 302 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 on Little Chatham's Run, who had several good 
 dogs, and who had heard the panther screaming 
 near his premises a night or two previous. 
 
 The two men decided to join forces, and re- 
 main in the woods until they killed the mon- 
 ster. But by the next night, as no tracks were 
 found, Button decided to return to his home 
 for some provisions, as small game did not seem 
 abundant and he became cold and hungry. 
 George Shover had just come upon the tracks 
 the morning after, when he met Jake Zinck with 
 his dogs out on the same errand. Jake was well- 
 provisioned so they set out together, following 
 the huge tracks all day, crossing many ridges. 
 Towards evening they came into the waters of 
 Little Miller Run, which flows through a rocky 
 gorge that some enthusiasts have compared to 
 Watkins' Glen in New York State, and which 
 empties into Tiadaghton near Waterville. 
 
 The tracks were so fresh that it looked as if 
 they were close to their quarry. They got their 
 rifles ready, expecting an almost momentary 
 meeting. But to their disappointment, the 
 tracks began leaving the hollow, leading up the 
 steep" side o'f ttne o'f the mountains'. It was hard
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 303 
 
 climbing, especially through laurel and hemlock 
 thickets, banked with snow. Near the brow of 
 the steep cliff were a number of rocky caves, and 
 into one of these the tracks led. They urged the 
 dogs in, thinking they might dislodge the brute, 
 but the animals only went in a short distance, 
 and came out again. 
 
 The hunters got down on their hands and 
 knees, pushing the dogs ahead of them as they 
 entered. They soon found out the cause of the 
 trouble. The cave was a shallow affair, the main 
 opening ten feet from its mouth being a deep 
 hole about large enough for a human being to 
 crawl into, which apparently descended to the 
 centre of the mountain. It would have been 
 cruel to drop the dogs into the hole, as they 
 could not have gotten out if hard pressed by 
 the panther. It would have been foolhardy for 
 the hunters to have descended into the chasm 
 themselves, as the brute might have sprung upon 
 them in the darkness. Yet there was no telling 
 how long the animal might remain underground. 
 Hunger alone would drive him out. 
 
 Zinck suggested blocking up the mouth of 
 the cfcvty and starving him tb a pb'int b*f forcing
 
 304 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 him to make a dash for liberty. But George 
 Shover did not care to waste the time while the 
 brute's appetite was augmenting. He wanted 
 more immediate results. He remembered his 
 father telling him that in the old days on the 
 Eocky Branch of Babb's Creek that the first 
 settlers had smothered many wolves by lighting 
 smoke-fires at the mouths of their dens. This 
 method had effectually rid that region of wolves, 
 as the smothering was generally done at the 
 breeding season. After the animals were dead 
 the hunters crawled into the caves and drew out 
 the carcasses of the she-wolves and sometimes as 
 many as a dozen pups at a time. They skinned 
 the dead animals, selling the hides and collecting 
 bounties on their scalps. 
 
 Shover mentioned this scheme to his compan- 
 ion who received it with approval. There was 
 a great deal of laurel on the mountain sides, 
 including many dead bushes, which had been 
 killed in a recent forest fire. This would create 
 a terribly foul smelling smoke, well calculated 
 to send a panther to his reward. There were 
 also many dead tops and stobs, relics from wind- 
 falls and fires, strewn about, making a wide va-
 
 "
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 305 
 
 riety of fuel to select from. The fire was built 
 well inside the mouth of the cave by piling up 
 wet wood with the naturally smoky laurel. 
 Shover touched a match to it. The smoke which 
 quickly arose was nauseating in the extreme, so 
 much so, that it was difficult to continue the 
 work of blocking up the cavern's mouth. But 
 at length the task was completed, done so well 
 that hardly any smoke escaped. Then the hunt- 
 ers built a cozy lean-to at the foot of the moun- 
 tain, spending the night around a crackling 
 camp-fire. With their prize within reach, the 
 men determined not to leave the spot. 
 
 The news of the panther had doubtless spread 
 by this time to Swissdale, Hardscrabble, Cald- 
 well, Richville, Charlton, and maybe to Jersey 
 Shore, which would mean that scores of hunters 
 would go on the war-path immediately. If they 
 found the tracks, and the blocked-up cave, they 
 would dig out the dead panther, and refuse to 
 give it up to the rightful owners upon their re- 
 turn. Early the next morning, a fresh snowfall 
 occurred. The hunters had a hard time to keep 
 their fires going, and the lean-to frequently 
 threatened, to fall in through the weight of snow
 
 306 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 on it. But the nimrods were thankful for the 
 blizzard as it would be the means of discouraging 
 the "town" hunters; it would leave them to 
 finish their task unmolested. 
 
 All through that day with the snow coming 
 down heavily, Shover and Zinck waited patient- 
 ly, and all that night. The next morning it was 
 bitterly cold. The dogs were taken to the 
 blocked-up entrance to the cave, where they 
 sniffed about in such a courageous way as to 
 indicate that the panther was not crouching in- 
 side the barriers. But it was decided to wait 
 until after dinner before opening the aperture. 
 The snow had commenced to fall again when 
 the two men started the re-opening work. 
 
 A terrible odor of stale smoke rushed out as 
 they ripped down the logs ; it was surely enough 
 to stifle man or beast. But they worked away 
 with a will, and soon had the opening clear. 
 Inside were the still smouldering embers of the 
 laurel-fire, but no signs of the panther. The 
 dogs rushed in ahead, and began sniffing around 
 the hole which led into the lower chamber of 
 the cavern. For a moment the hunters imagined 
 tfi&* tbfc " painted " was still aliv'e 1 . But as the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 307 
 
 dogs were so anxious to climb down into the 
 depths this could not be the case. Shover and 
 Zinck climbed into the hole, finding that it de- 
 scended to a depth of twenty feet, below which 
 was a long, low apartment. They lit matches, 
 and by their fitful glow perceived the lifeless 
 body of the giant panther. 
 
 From the size of the tracks they had been led 
 to believe that the animal was extra large, but 
 stretched out on the cavern floor it seemed to 
 be as big as "all out doors." Peacefully it lay 
 there, like some huge cat asleep. Evidently it 
 had died without a struggle as its eyes were 
 closed, and the expression was calm. Shover 
 stooped down and lifted up the big, heavy head 
 with his hand. The lower jaw fell open, reveal- 
 ing the fact that there were very few teeth ; the 
 animal was a very old one without a doubt. In 
 addition, the men noticed that the hair was very 
 grey; "as grey as a bat," said one of them; it 
 was white under the throat and along the belly ; 
 it had none of the fulvous or orange color so 
 conspicuous on the coats of panthers taken in 
 their prime. The tail was very long and thick, 
 with a band of white near the tuft of heavy,
 
 308 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 black hair at the extreme end. The body was 
 still warm, a slash with a knife drew blood from 
 the throat ; death had come not long before. The 
 ribs were noticeable, showing that it had eaten 
 very little lately. It was evidently waiting to 
 be killed or to die, as in its toothless state it 
 could not be very terrifying even to diseased 
 fawns or birds. 
 
 Though it was a male, the probabilities were 
 that most of its wailing was caused by hunger 
 rather than love. That also explained why it 
 approached so near to human habitations. 
 
 The hunters talked and speculated over their 
 grand trophy for over an hour before they began 
 the severe work of lifting it up to the main 
 room in the cave. It was about the toughest 
 undertaking that they had attempted in a long 
 while. Thin as it was, the panther weighed at 
 least two hundred pounds. The head, paws and 
 tail hung like lead weights. Despite the cold 
 weather, the hunters were sweating freely when 
 they landed the carcass at the cavern's mouth. 
 Then they rolled it down the mountain to their 
 camp-fire, where they .carefully skinned it. They 
 took along the skull, to preserve it as a so\rvenir>
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 309 
 
 and did not cut off the paws with the huge, 
 worn-away claws. They were surely two of the 
 happiest men in the entire Black Forest, perhaps 
 in the Keystone State that night. 
 
 There was absolutely no fat on the carcass, 
 and the flesh was practically dreid to the bones. 
 How much more the brute would have weighed 
 when in good condition was a problem to the 
 hunters. As it as he was little else but bones 
 and muscles. However, they cut a few chops 
 out of the ribs, determined to make the triumph 
 complete by tasting the meat of their victim. 
 Soon, half a dozen chops were broiling over the 
 cheery fire. 
 
 While the preparations for supper were in 
 progress, the dogs jumped up with their bristles 
 on end and commenced to bark fiercely. Pretty 
 soon the gleaming eyes of two large hounds ap- 
 peared back of the camp-fire, followed shortly 
 after by a whiskered man in woodsman's garb. 
 Both hunters recognized the visitor at Hiram 
 Laffery, a character who lived several miles fur- 
 ther down Little Miller. Though a drinking 
 man, and at times a cantankerous fellow, he had 
 worked up quite a clientele among Williamsport
 
 310 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 hunters and fishermen whom he boarded and 
 guided through the woods on their outings. He 
 knew in reality very little about woodcraft or 
 hunting, but he did so much talking that words 
 passed for wisdom with the " tenderf eet. " 
 
 He could hardly believe his senses when he 
 saw the huge hide of the panther, which Shover 
 and Zinck explained to him had been killed on 
 the mountain directly above where they were 
 camping. 
 
 "Man alive," ejaculated Leffery, "had I but 
 known that there was a 'painter' in this valley, 
 I could have made a fortune inviting some of the 
 rich sportsmen from down country to come out 
 and kill it." 
 
 Then his face darkened and he pulled out his 
 flask and took a big drink to hide his disap- 
 pointment. Then he offered the flask to the 
 hunters but they declined with thanks. The 
 whiskey made him more talkative, and he told 
 about a rich Williamsport banker who doubted 
 that there was a single panther left in Pennsyl- 
 vania. He had bet him a hundred dollars that 
 there were still a few in the Black Forest and 
 in the Seven Mountains, and would give half
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 311 
 
 that amount to anyone who would help his win- 
 ning that bet. 
 
 "But man alive," he rambled on, "here these 
 boys kill a painter and the biggest one I ever 
 saw in my life only within three miles of my 
 home. I had been hearing dogs barking for the 
 past two days, which was unusual in such bad 
 weather, and this evening I could stand it no 
 longer. I had to come here and find out what 
 was going on." 
 
 Then he drank more whiskey, and ate three 
 of the six panther chops. He wound up by in- 
 viting the hunters to come with him to his cabin. 
 
 ' ' I '11 treat you right, just like I do the ' ' High 
 Zekes' from Williamsport and Muncy." 
 
 The hunters were glad to sleep under cover 
 for a change; their faces burned from exposure 
 to the elements, and they felt like taking off 
 their clothes and washing. So the three men 
 carrying the hide, the skull and the hunting 
 paraphernalia wended their way down the dark 
 ravine, followed by the dogs. Laffery was liv- 
 ing alone at the time, but there were occasions 
 when he employed a housekeeper or relative to 
 help him. There was a cheery fire in the stove,
 
 312 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 about which the men were glad to warm them- 
 selves. They sat about it until after midnight, 
 swapping hunting stories and jokes, during 
 which time Laffery consumed much whiskey. 
 The host got the hunters out of bed early the 
 next morning, and they could see that he was 
 much the worse for his tippling. His eyes were 
 bloodshot, and he had little to say, except to 
 swear loudly when he burnt the coffee and let the 
 pan of ham fall off the stove. 
 
 The breakfast was a wretched affair, and the 
 two guests wondered if this was what the Wil- 
 liamsport magnates were forced to endure. If 
 so, they paid dearly for their sojourns in the 
 woods. After the meal, the nimrods announced 
 that they would be starting for their homes im- 
 mediately. This aroused Leffery from his 
 drunken torpor, and he asked them if they would 
 sell the panther hide. 
 
 "Not for a mint," replied Shover decisively. 
 
 "I'll give you fifty dollars cash for it," an- 
 swered the guide. "Then I can win that hun- 
 dred dollar bet with the 'High Zeke,' and make 
 a lot besides drawing folks here to see the last 
 painter killed in Northern Pennsylvania."
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 313 
 
 The hide was lying on the floor, as Laffery 
 had just finished measuring it. It stretched out 
 to eleven feet from tip to tip, almost a record 
 hide. Joe Snyder's panther, killed on Young 
 Woman's Creek in 1858, is said to have meas- 
 ured eleven feet six inches, and a panther killed 
 near Newry, Blair County, by Solomon Boos in 
 1873 measured eleven feet three inches. A New 
 York State panther killed in Herkimer County 
 in the forties by Joe Wood also measured eleven 
 feet three inches. 
 
 "You won't sell me that hide for fifty dol- 
 lars?" said Laffery eyeing the hunters critic- 
 ally. 
 
 Both of them answered that they would not. 
 Shover was reaching down to roll it up when 
 the angered guide picked up an axe which stood 
 beside the wood-box, and with a vicious swing, 
 cut off one of the paws. "There, damn you 
 both, I've fixed that hide so you can't sell it 
 to anybody." 
 
 This was too much for Zinck and striking 
 out he hit the malicious shack-dweller a sharp 
 blow with the back of his hand, drawing blood 
 from the whiskered lips. Laffery would have
 
 814 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 fallen on the stove, had not Shover caught him 
 in his arms. They laid the fellow cursing and 
 bellowing on his couch, from which he was too 
 drunk and maudlin to move. 
 
 Gathering up the hide, the skull and their 
 rifles, the two hunters departed, slamming the 
 door on their unsociable host. By evening they 
 were back at the head of Chatham's Run, where 
 they tossed a Continental penny, which Zinck 
 always carried as a "pocket-piece," as to who 
 should receive the mutilated hide. Shover won 
 it, but it had been previously agreed that the 
 loser should get the ears on which the twelve 
 dollar bounty would be paid, the skull, and the 
 severed paw. 
 
 Shover had a great ovation when he returned 
 to his modest home with his grand prize. He 
 had a rug made from the skin, which was kept 
 in his family for many years. After his death, 
 it was admired by a travelling man from New 
 York State and sold to him for fifty dollars. 
 Evidently Hiram Laffery had offered good value 
 for it. Zinck preserved the skull and the sev- 
 ered paw, and they are said to be still in his 
 home on the hill back of the town of Oak Grove.
 
 XV. 
 
 THE TEAMPEB. 
 (The Story of a Famous Lost Boy.) 
 
 HE wind was howling and the 
 snow was beating against the 
 doors and windows of the old 
 half-way house between Ger- 
 mania settlement and Gale- 
 ton. It was such a terrible night that the land- 
 lord, old Daniel Osch, did not care to go to bed. 
 Instead he sat in his stocking feet by the big, 
 white-washed stove in the bar-room. The low- 
 ceilinged room was lit by a single kerosene lamp, 
 which stood on a bracket back of the bar; there 
 were four other lamps in the room, but these 
 were only lighted on Saturday nights or when 
 trade was especially good. A pair of many- 
 tined stag horns hung above the mirror, and on 
 one side of it a framed lithograph showing 
 Johnstown before and after the flood of 1889; 
 on the other side was a framed engraving of the 
 ancient German city of Bonn. 
 
 815
 
 316 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 It was not to be expected that there would be 
 any visitors on such a wild night. The old set- 
 tlers and the trappers were snowed up in their 
 forest-hidden cabins, and the big hemlock camps 
 which had lately opened in the neighboring ra- 
 vines only kept a few skidders and loaders work- 
 ing during the winter months. A new but pass- 
 ing prosperity had come with the opening of 
 these camps. Hundreds of reckless spenders 
 were among the loggers and bark-peelers, who 
 made business brisk while the operations lasted, 
 then, when the last log was peeled, like the 
 Arabs, stole silently away, leaving desolation 
 and forest fires in their wake, and the financial 
 ruin of the permanent inhabitants of the Black 
 Forest. 
 
 Old Osch was figuring this out in his slow 
 but analytic German brain, and thinking of his 
 boyhood days in the old country where a tree 
 was planted for everyone cut down, where there 
 were no forest fires ,and the lumbering industry 
 was permanent, building its saw mills of brick 
 or cement, and not of slabs or culls. Lumbering 
 carried on by the Potter County natives on a 
 small scale was calculated to last indefinitely,
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 317 
 
 even without replanting, but by big corporations 
 it meant waste, ruin, unhappiness for all except 
 the Buffalo millionaires who controlled it. No 
 wonder that he glanced with his small, dark 
 eyes at a poster lithograph of William J. Bryan, 
 under which someone had facetiously scribbled 
 "No Trust." The Nebraskan, of all American 
 statesmen, had seen clearest the evils of mono- 
 polies, but it would take several generations be- 
 fore the public would realize that they had been 
 unmercifully buncoed into allowing "big busi- 
 ness," which spelled backwards means serfdom 
 for the individual, free rein. 
 
 In the midst of his ruminations, there came 
 a loud rapping at the bar-room door. At first the 
 old German thought that it was hail, charged 
 with a particularly insistent gust of wind, and 
 prepared to take no notice of it. But it kept up 
 again and again, louder and louder. Someone 
 was outside surely enough. He glanced at the 
 clock which hung above the picture of Col. 
 Bryan; it was half-past eleven. Nobody in that 
 "neck of woods" as he always called it, came 
 out that late for a first drink. They often 
 chough stayed until closing time, but tney air
 
 318 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ways began imbibing early. It was unthinkable 
 that a traveller could be on the road in such a 
 fierce storm ; no liveryman in Galeton, Germania 
 or Gaines would let a team go out. 
 
 He sat and thought a moment more. Then 
 he got up from his chair and walked slowly to 
 the door, and unbolted it. As he flung the door 
 open, the wind whistled fiercely, and a spray of 
 snow and sleet rushed in which almost swept 
 the ponderous Teuton off his feet. For a mo- 
 ment he could see nobody outside. Then through 
 the storm appeared an unkempt figure, covered 
 with snow, which caked to his face, hat and gar- 
 ments. As if pushed by the gale, he rushed pell- 
 mell past the landlord into the bar-room, where 
 he settled himself in the arm-chair by the stove. 
 
 Old man Osch threw his weight against the 
 door, closing and bolting it. Then he turned 
 around, wishing the stranger good evening. By 
 this time, some of the sleet had thawed off the 
 individual's face and clothing, and one could 
 see what he looked like . He was a fair-haired, 
 blue-eyed young man above the medium height, 
 with clear-cut, sensitive features. His arched 
 nose was pafticularly fine; but his face was half*-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 319 
 
 hidden behind a ten days ' growth of beard. He 
 looked very cold and pale, so the proprietor 
 slipped behind the bar and poured out a tumbler- 
 full of whiskey without being asked for it. ' ' Take 
 that, ' ' he said. " I . don 't know who you are 
 yet, but this will do you good. ' ' 
 
 The stranger drank it down at a single gulp, 
 after which the color came to his lips, he seemed 
 more composed. 
 
 ' ' You asked me who I was a bit ago, ' ' he said, 
 eyeing the landlord cautiously. "I don't quite 
 know myself; I have always been called Charley 
 Stamler, but I have every reason to believe that 
 my real name is Charley Carson. I think that 
 I am the person who as a boy was kidnapped 
 years ago from my home in one of the suburbs 
 of Philadelphia." 
 
 Old man Osch looked at the man in surprise. 
 Was he talking in good faith, or was it the whis- 
 key talking? 
 
 "I have had my ups and down," the stranger 
 resumed again. "I have been a newsboy and a 
 farmhand in Qhio, a deckhand on the lakes, a 
 strike-breaker at Homestead and Pittsburg in 
 18*92 ; I maanehed with Coxey 's Army two years
 
 320 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ago ; I was a waiter in an oyster house at Balti- 
 more, worked on a coaster, and finally beat it on 
 the trucks from the Bowery to Rochester, and 
 have been tramping it ever since; folks told me 
 there was lots of healthy work in the Pennsyl- 
 vania lumber woods. They tell me I have tuber- 
 culosis." 
 
 The landlord was interested in the recital of 
 the young man's varied career. Such ne'er do 
 wells often turned up in the Black Forest, but 
 they seldom made good loggers or peelers. But 
 if this man was ill, and wanted to do the right 
 thing there might be a chance for him. But he 
 first explained to him that there would be no 
 work on a large scale until the last of April, 
 when the park-peeling began. Most of the logs 
 from the previous summer's cutting had been 
 skidded to the railways and trails, and there 
 was only a small crew needed to load the cars 
 and sleds. No hardwood would be cut until the 
 tracts had been cleaned off of hemlock, when a 
 different set of jobbers, who worked in winter, 
 would take it up. 
 
 "I'd work here for my board," said the stran- 
 ger, "willingly, until ,i]fc came time for me to get 
 a charice in the wbo'da."
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 321 
 
 Landlord Osch always dispensed with his 
 handy-man, when business grew slack in the 
 fall, but here was a chance to try a man on the 
 lowest wages he had yet paid. So he told the 
 stranger that he would give him a trial, and if 
 he proved satisfactory, he could remain two 
 months, until April, when the peeling began, 
 and when his regular hostler, who lived over 
 on Lyman's Run, would return. The stranger 
 was delighted. He got up, and shook the land- 
 lord by the hand. 
 
 "You have saved my life," he said. 
 
 "Tell me one thing," said the old man, be- 
 fore he showed his new helper to bed. "Do you 
 really think you are the lost Charley Carson?" 
 
 " I do not think it, I am sure of it,, ' ' the fel- 
 low replied. "I wrote letters, and offered to 
 come in person and prove my case, but I could 
 get no replies. I put my evidence in the hands 
 of lawyers, but I could not fight the case right 
 with no money. It is a long story; some time 
 I'll tell you all about it." 
 
 The stranger was not a failure in his new 
 position. He worked hard, even in the kitchen 
 and laundry which pl^asdd the landlord 's thrifty
 
 322 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 wife. When the bark-peeling season opened, the 
 regular helper, though he was an old soldier, be- 
 came imbued with the idea of making better pay 
 driving a team in the woods, and sent word he 
 was not coming back. The stranger asked to 
 remain, and got the place on the same terms as 
 his predecessor. During the summer months 
 business was lively, for in addition to the hordes 
 of bark-peelers and jobbers, the hotel was daily 
 thronged with peddlers, agents, travelling pho- 
 tographers, patent medicine men, and all kinds 
 of fakers in general the lumbermen's camp- 
 followers, as well as many trout fishermen. 
 
 It was during the rush season that an Indian 
 girl named Armanie Doxtater, was engaged to 
 assist with the house-work. She was a pretty 
 girl of nineteen, slender, with large, dark blue 
 eyes, which with her rather pale complexion de- 
 noted the usual admixture of white blood. No 
 sooner did she arrive than Charley Stamler, the 
 helper, began to spruce up his appearance. He 
 went to Galeton one evening, where he had his 
 blonde beard trimmed to a fashionable point, 
 and bought a straw hat, new shoes, and a new 
 suit of clbthfes. He was a gettfl&nanly, alinb&t
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 323 
 
 good-looking chap when well-dressed, and he 
 began to pay marked attentions to the Indian 
 girl, who seemed to like him in return. 
 
 This little undercurrent of romance helped to 
 pass away the summer pleasantly. Old Osch 
 was waiting all the time for his protege to tell 
 him the reasons why he felt sure that he was the 
 lost Charley Carson, but never again did he open 
 his mouth on the subject. Evidently he had 
 been nervously tired the night of his strange 
 arrival in the storm, and talked more freely 
 as the result, and besides his loquacity had been 
 helped along by that tumbler-full of whiskey. 
 Daniel Osch was of an inquisitive nature, and 
 could not rest easily until he would hear more 
 of the Charley Carson story. He reminded the 
 helper every few days of his promise to finish 
 the narrative, but the only answer he could get 
 from him was a polite rejoinder that he would 
 tell it later on. 
 
 The old man hit upon the plan of imparting 
 what he knew to Armanie, asking her to wheedle 
 it out of the stranger. She was a modest girl, 
 and while the queer story interested her, she 
 never got up enough courage to put the question
 
 324 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 to him. Old Mother Osch brought it up several 
 times, even at the dinner table, but could gain 
 no satisfaction. But as long as it remained un- 
 told, the old landlord determined to hold on to 
 the stranger, as it made him feel that he was 
 harboring someone of consequence. 
 
 In October, when bark-peeling was about over 
 for the season, Armanie returned to her parents' 
 home, which was also on Lyman's Run. The 
 stranger felt her loss keenly; it was as if the 
 spirit had left the place. Twice a week he made 
 the journey to see her. The tram-road for logs 
 took him most of the way, but he had to make 
 the long walk back at midnight. Though the 
 distance was long, it was not unpleasant through 
 the avenues of sweet-scented, newly peeled logs. 
 But he always seemed much happier the days 
 after he had been to see her. 
 
 Old Mother Osch whispered to her husband 
 and intimates "that it was going to be a match." 
 As she had no children of her own, she was much 
 interested in the strange romance. Of course, 
 she said she knew nothing of the hired-man, he 
 might he a jail-bird of some kind from the cities. 
 She was sure that there was some mystery about
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 325 
 
 him. If he was sure of being the lost Charley 
 Carson, why did he not continue hiring lawyers 
 and enforce his claim. He might very easily be 
 the famous kidnapped boy, as he had every indi- 
 cation of gentle birth. But all this gossip re- 
 sulted in nothing. When the rabbit, squirrel, 
 and bird shooting season set in, business at the 
 half-way house began to grow brisk again. The 
 old woman regretted that she had let Armanie 
 go, but the hired-man made himself so useful 
 that she soon ceased complaining of overwork. 
 
 Parties of half a dozen sportsmen,, with their 
 dogs came to the hotel nightly; they were con- 
 vivial fellows, those hunters, drinking much of 
 the excellent beer brewed in the neighborhood, 
 and tipping liberally for every favor received. 
 Some of them indulged in more drinking than 
 hunting, and it was a wonder that when they 
 did shoot that they did not kill one another. 
 The bibulous gunners could be appeased if game 
 was served to them for supper after their fruit- 
 less days in the woods. As it was before the 
 passage of any of the wise laws forbidding the 
 sale of game, Landlord Osch would engage half
 
 326 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 a dozen local pot-hunters to keep the table sup- 
 plied. 
 
 One night towards the middle of October, a 
 dozen rabbit hunters were spending the night 
 at the half-way house. They lived near the New 
 York State line, and came into the Black For- 
 est to hunt every autumn. Although they had 
 had a very successful day, they preferred to eat 
 the rabbits which the landlord served, as they 
 wanted to take their own "kills" home as tro- 
 phies. As an especialy delicacy, a Northern 
 hare, a very rare animal, was the piece de resist- 
 ance of the feast. The dining room was on the 
 second floor of the hotel; in warm weather the 
 meals were served on a porch, which opened out 
 from it, and gave an excellent view of the for- 
 ests and mountains, and of the purling, babbling 
 brook below. It was a cold night, and the small 
 stove barely heated the large, high-ceilinged 
 apartment. It was illuminated by a couple of 
 small lamps on the walls, and one with a green 
 glass shade, which stood on the supper table. 
 
 A stuffed grey fox or Colishay ornamented the 
 mantel-shelf. The hunters were ravenously 
 hungry after their strenuous day in the brisk
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 827 
 
 mountain air, and before the meal had been an- 
 nounced, drank a round of whiskey. During 
 the supper, they drank much beer, which they 
 poured out in tumblers from two large cut-glass 
 pitchers. A cat, yellow in color like a panther, 
 and with one black spot over its eye, was play- 
 ing about the room with a spool. It reminded 
 one of the hunters, so he said, of a black-eyed 
 panther that was a terror to the first settlers on 
 Eleven Mile Run, nearly a hundred years be- 
 fore. His grandfather had shot it, he added with 
 great gusto, making a lap-robe out of the hide. 
 
 After the feast, all the gunners began to feel 
 sleepy, slouching down in their chairs, and lay- 
 ing aside their cigars. Suddenly the cat dropped 
 the spool, and with a yell, bristled up, and ran 
 under the table. At the same time, the most 
 wide-awake member of the party jumped up 
 from his seat, shouting, ' ' See that pale man over 
 there, who is he, where did he come from?" 
 
 And as he spoke, he pointed over to the door 
 which in the summer time led to the porch 
 where meals were served, but which now was 
 kept locked. All the men looked around. The 
 majority of them saw a white figure, closely re-
 
 328 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 sembling the hired man, standing against the 
 closed door. As they looked at him, he faded 
 away ; he seemed to go through the key-hole. As 
 he vanished, Landlord Osch and his wife, hav- 
 ing heard the commotion, rushed into the room, 
 finding their guests in attitudes of greatest agi- 
 tation. They told the old couple as best they 
 could what had happened. 
 
 Osch shook his head. ' ' It could not have been 
 Charley Stamler; he left here before dark to 
 visit his girl on Lyman's Run, and I do not be- 
 lieve in ghosts." 
 
 "Neither do we," chorused the hunters, every 
 man wanting to go on record for his material- 
 ism. But they were frightened half to death 
 nevertheless. As quickly as they could, they 
 hurried down the narrow stairs to the bar, to 
 brace themselves for the night with whiskey 
 straight. 
 
 When Mother Osch was clearing off the table, 
 her foot touched the cat, still crouching beneath 
 it. She dragged the frightened animal out, but 
 to use her own words, it was ' ' scared stiff. ' ' The 
 hunters were too nervous to want to go to bed 
 early, and kept fortifying their nerves with
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 329 
 
 more liquor. They kept the landlord back of the 
 bar until a few minutes after the official hour for 
 closing. For once in their lives, they were 
 thankful that they had to sleep two in a bed. 
 But the night passed uneventfully, not one of 
 them saw a ghost or even heard a rustle. 
 
 When at daybreak, old man Osch came down- 
 stairs, he looked about for his hired-man, whom 
 he usually found building the fires. He waited 
 until his wife came on the scene, and then start- 
 ed on a search. The man's bed had not been 
 occupied ; if he had come back, he had not gone 
 to his room. He went out to the barn, the 
 chicken-house, the hog-pen, and to the cellar, 
 but there were no signs of his helper. He 
 thought of the little restaurant building over by 
 the creek, where above the door was the modest 
 sign, "Soft drinks, ice cream, light lunch for 
 sale here." It was only open for business dur- 
 ing the summer months. It would be extremely 
 unlikely that the man went into such a flimsy 
 structure on such a cold night, but he decided 
 to go there anyhow. 
 
 The building had been closed for nearly a 
 month, the wooden shutters were upon the win-
 
 330 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 dows. When he reached the door, he found it 
 locked, with the key sticking in the key-hole. 
 Upon opening the door, he was greeted by a foul, 
 musty odor, like all unventilated apartments 
 give forth. 
 
 As his eyes became accustomed to the semi- 
 darkness, he could make out a pair of feet raised 
 aloft behind the counter. Going closer, he found 
 the body of a man, with his head wedged under 
 the counter ; literally standing on his head. Not 
 wishing to disturb the body when alone, he hur- 
 ried back to the hotel, calling for his guests, 
 most of whom were lounging about the cold 
 stove in the bar-room waiting for breakfast to 
 be announced. Hatless, they walked with him 
 across the poplar dotted yard, to the little restau- 
 rant beside the brook. They followed into the 
 gloomy store-room, where they saw the awful 
 spectacle behind the counter. 
 
 The bravest one of them, a man named Albert 
 Adams, brushed by the others, and catching the 
 corpse by its feet, dragged it out on the centre 
 of the floor. When he turned it so that the face 
 would be upward, they all recognized it as the 
 hired man, Charley Stamler, and as the appari-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 331 
 
 tion that had appeared to them in the dining- 
 room. Several of the men gave way to a shout 
 of terror. It was a trying situation. 
 
 Then the question arose as to how the dead 
 man got into such a peculiar position behind the 
 counter. Adams said that the head was tightly 
 cramped between two boxes of empty soda-water 
 bottles; it was with difficulty that he extracted 
 it. During the discussion, Mother Osch appeared 
 on the scene; she wrung her hands with grief 
 when she learned of the tragic fate of her favor- 
 ite helper, especially since he had died with his 
 secret untold. 
 
 It was decided not to examine the body fur- 
 ther until the coroner could be summoned. A 
 neighbor was dispatched for the official with a 
 speedy horse and buggy, returning with him in 
 the late afternoon. The hunters who had lingered 
 around the premises all day were used as jurors 
 and witnesses. The coroner happened to be a 
 practicing physician so he made a critical exami- 
 nation of the dead man. 
 
 There were no signs of foul play or self-de- 
 struction. He had apparently met his death 
 from apoplexy or heart failure as the result of
 
 332 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 losing his balance while leaning over the coun- 
 ter. From the appearance of the body, death 
 had occurred about nine or ten o 'clock the night 
 previous. That was the very time that the 
 hunters had seen the spectre in the dining room. 
 Several of them turned pale when they heard 
 this pronouncement. 
 
 While they were conferring over the peculiar 
 affair, Armanie Doxtater appeared on the pre- 
 mises wild-eyed and dishevelled. She had failed 
 to receive her expected visit from her lover; all 
 night long she had dreamed horribly about him. 
 "White and ghost-like, he had appeared before 
 her bedside six times. She was sure that he 
 had met with foul play. When she saw the 
 body lying on the floor of the store-house, she 
 threw herself upon it, and had to be dragged 
 away. Her grief, primitive and genuine, 
 brought tears to some of the unsentimental hunt- 
 ers grouped about the room. 
 
 The coroner tried to get her to compose her- 
 self, so that she might tell what she knew con- 
 cerning the strange man. She said that he had 
 been very reticent concerning himself, except to 
 say that Stamler was not his real name, that his
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 333 
 
 name was Charley Carson. When she had asked 
 him if he was the hero of the famous kidnapping 
 of twenty odd years before, he had been silent 
 a while, then whispered that he felt that he was, 
 but refused to say more. Then the girl started 
 to tell about the deceased's many good qualities, 
 finally breaking into hysterical weeping. 
 
 The coroner brought up the question which 
 Landlord Osch had mentioned earlier in the in- 
 quest, about finding the store-house door locked 
 with the key on the outside. The old German 
 maintained that he had made no mistake about 
 it. But it was hard to believe with all the indi- 
 cations pointing to death from natural causes. 
 
 The only solution of it was that the man had 
 died outside, and had been put in the store- 
 house by some one who had afterwards locked 
 the door. Finally the coroner asked the land- 
 lord what person usually kept the store-house 
 key. 
 
 "Charley had it," he said. "He put up the 
 shutters and locked the door at the end of the 
 season, and I forgot to ask him for it." 
 
 The verdict arrived at was that the man had 
 come to his death from heart failure* induced 
 by an apcfpteletto flfc
 
 334 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ' ' That 's all right enough, ' ' said Albert Adams 
 that evening, as he leaned against one of the 
 pillars of the hotel porch, pulling his long, 
 blonde mustache, "but it doesn't explain where 
 he met his death or how he got in that store- 
 house in such a cramped position with the door 
 locked on the outside."
 
 XVI. 
 
 LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD. 
 (Story of the Packet-Boat Wolf.) 
 
 LD Mike Curts, who spent most 
 of his life in the Black Forest, 
 hunting and trapping wolves, 
 used to tell the story of how 
 he killed the famous Black 
 Wolf, that was wont to follow the packet-boats 
 every night, which plied between Williamsport 
 and Lock Haven. From him, as well as many 
 others, including the chief actress herself, has 
 come the remarkable tale of the Little Red Rid- 
 ing Hood of the West Branch. 
 
 It was during the early forties that the "pack- 
 et-boat wolf" was first noticed. In those days, 
 wolves were becoming scarce in the West Branch 
 Valley, the bounty-hunters and the poisoners 
 having pretty well succeeded in driving them to 
 the fastnesses of the Black Forest to the North 
 and the Seven Mountains to the South. Ten 
 years previously, they were very numerous, com- 
 
 835
 
 336 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ing down into the fields to play or to commit 
 small depredations. 
 
 The venerable Jacob Quiggle, who died on the 
 eve of his ninetieth birthday in 1911, often told 
 how his father would go at sunset to the back 
 door of his home near Pine Station, Clinton 
 County and imitate the barking of a wolf. It 
 would be answered from the summit of the 
 Round Top, first by one wolf, then by two, by 
 four, and so on until the entire pack were yelp- 
 ing in chorus. If he continued his imitations 
 long enough the animals would descend from the 
 mountain and come to the edge of his fields, the 
 bolder ones approaching almost to the farm- 
 buildings. 
 
 One time the youthful Jacob informed his pa- 
 rents that his little brother, his sister, and him- 
 self had been followed to school and back every 
 day by a big, brown dog. The shrewd pioneer 
 became suspicious of the "dog" and accom- 
 panied the children next morning, armed with 
 his trusty rifle. In a wood, not far from his 
 home he found a shaggy, brown wolf waiting on 
 the path. The animal was lying with his paw T s 
 stretched out, his tongue lolling, and panting,
 
 BOI D HUNTERS. (NORWICH. PA.)
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 337 
 
 just like an ordinary dog. Despite the tearful 
 protests of the children, he shot the wolf dead. 
 
 During the forties, what wolves remained in 
 the West Branch were scattering individuals, 
 the big packs having been killed off or sought 
 safer localities. It began to be noticed that a 
 wolf was following the night packet-boat ; the 
 animal using the old Indian trail which ran 
 along the tops of the Bald Eagle Mountains. It 
 took up the trail soon after Williamsport was 
 left, and did not give it up until the mountain 
 at the right side of Castanea Gap, near Lock 
 Haven, was reached. From its remote situation 
 it could make out the boat in the valley below 
 by its gleaming lights. Every time a Gap was 
 neared, the wolf would give out some unearthly 
 howls, which often would seemingly be answered 
 by every dog in the deep valley. During the 
 summer months, when the days were long, the 
 wolf was seldom heard from although it was pre- 
 sumed he followed the boats nightly, as on 
 stormy nights he barked as usual. 
 
 Many causes were assigned for his bold and 
 unusual conduct. The chief one was that he 
 was charmed by the lights. Others were that
 
 338 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 hunger drove him on, or that the moving boat 
 looked like some edible animal. Some declared 
 that it was no wolf at all but a spook; even 
 though it did make huge tracks in the snow. In 
 the beginning the farmers and hunters of the 
 valley were too much occupied otherwise to try 
 and kill this lone wolf. It apparently did no 
 harm; there were troublesome beasts nearer 
 home, which must first be exterminated. As 
 time went on, the "packet-boat wolf" became so 
 well-known that several hunters coveted the dis- 
 tinction of killing it. 
 
 These brave nimrods posted themselves along 
 the path on the mountain summits waiting for 
 the wolf to trot past and be shot. They were 
 always disappointed to see the packet-boat go 
 by in the valley beneath, and then, a few minutes 
 later, to hear the wolf barking on the crest of 
 the next mountain beyond. These hunters wait- 
 ed night after night, with no better results. It 
 seemed like wasting time, so they gradually 
 dropped the quest. However, a number of 
 traps were placed along the trail, which the sa- 
 gacious wolf always managed to dodge. Poison- 
 ing was tried with no success. If the wolf was
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 339 
 
 as hungry as so many persons claimed, it was 
 strange he would not touch choice bits of veal 
 and mutton deeply impregnated with strychnine. 
 Other animals and birds took the bait readily 
 enough; dead foxes, skunks, hawks, owls and 
 buzzards were found near the poisoned meat. 
 
 On one occasion when a large band of young 
 men were out on the mountain west of Aughan- 
 baugh's Gap, driving deer with their dogs, they 
 noticed the packet-boat coming up the valley in 
 the distance. They quickly formed a human 
 cordon across the mountain's top and sides. The 
 wolf would have to turn back or go through 
 them, they thought. Much to their anger, they 
 heard the familiar barking after the boat had 
 passed, coming from the extreme end of the 
 mountain, to the west, where it dips into 
 Kearns's Gap. 
 
 The wolf seemed to bear a charmed life, and 
 when hunters got together all agreed that no 
 one had ever seen the animal. Perhaps it was 
 a different wolf every night, one very young 
 hunter ventured. If it was, then the mountains 
 were teeming with them, which was surely not
 
 340 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 the case at that time, to judge by the number 
 actually killed each year. 
 
 There were many who liked to hear the pack- 
 et-wolf at night, among them the great jurist, 
 Ellis Lewis, who often travelled to Lock Haven, 
 then a growing lumbering centre as well as the 
 seat of justice of the new county of Clinton. 
 But the wolf had many more foes than friends, 
 consequently it was through its own alertness, 
 that it managed to survive. 
 
 In September, 1847, occurred a memorable 
 flood in the West Branch. The canal was torn 
 out in many places, especially at the canal- 
 bridges over Tiadaghton and Chatham's Run. 
 Traffic was temporarily suspended while bands 
 of sturdy Irishmen toiled to restore it to the 
 normal condition. Some alarmists said that it 
 would take until winter before the packet-boats 
 would be running again, so formidable seemed 
 the piles of logs and drift which choked the 
 canal-bed, to say nothing of the washouts at the 
 bridges and locks. 
 
 The impatient public which must travel soon 
 caused the old stages to be brought in requisition 
 during the interval. These agfed vfehides once
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 341 
 
 so conspicuous along the "river road" were 
 dragged out, cob-webbed and creaking, from 
 their shadowy retirement in a shed back of the 
 Union House in Williamsport, and after a little 
 greasing and varnishing, travelled as well as 
 ever, though they had been out of commission 
 for over ten years. Such is the ultimate triumph 
 of good material! These stages ran by day, as 
 the roads were too poor to risk the danger of a 
 breakdown on some lonely stretch after dark. 
 
 During the period when the packet-boats were 
 not running, nothing was heard of the Black 
 Wolf for some time. It was predicted that the 
 flood would be his undoing, that he would come 
 down into the valley to investigate, and meet his 
 death. Some children living near Adam Car- 
 son's, afterwards M'am Smith's old half-way 
 house, claimed to have seen a huge, black animal 
 swimming the river late one afternoon. It came 
 ashore not far from where are now the ruins 
 of the old Chatham's Run High School build- 
 ing, shook itself, and scampered up the bank and 
 into the woods at the foot of Hulings' hill 
 to the north of the highway. Settlers in the 
 Black Forest, especially several families living
 
 342 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 at the sources of Upper and Lower Pine Bot- 
 tom Runs, reported seeing a black wolf of enor- 
 mous size lurking about their premises. 
 
 Soon the story went the rounds that the 
 packet-boat wolf had gone to the Black Forest; 
 in future, he might trot along the tops of the 
 Alleghenies instead of the Bald Eagles. Work on 
 the canal progressed much fasterthan the "calam- 
 ity-howlers" predicted, and in the "Squaw 
 Winter" appeared to be ready for traffic again. 
 This was pleasing to shippers, who had a great 
 accumulation of lumber and grain to send east- 
 ward. It also pleased the travelling public, 
 who preferred the calm and comfort of the boats 
 to the rattle and dust or mud of stage-riding. 
 And there were almost as many who wished for 
 the return of the packet-boat wolf as they did 
 for the packet-boats. 
 
 Over in Nippenose Valley, not far from the 
 gates of the majestic Sanderson estate of "Loch- 
 abar," lived an estimable family named Steyne. 
 They came originally from Berks County, but 
 had been established in their abode on Antes 
 Creek for two generations. Jacob Steyne, the 
 husband and father, was a successful farmer
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 843 
 
 and stockman. He turned his attention mostly 
 to sheep raising, producing larger animals than 
 most of his fellow breeders. Pasture was scarce 
 during the summer months especially on a small 
 farm where there was so much stock, as a result 
 of which the Steyne cattle, numbering nearly a 
 score, were driven every morning out on the 
 mountain road which leads to Bastress, where 
 they would find plenty to feed upon on the shady 
 highlands. 
 
 Caroline Steyne, then a little girl of about 
 nine years of age, usually drove the animals out 
 on the mountain, as it was only a short distance 
 from the farm. She was of good-size, and 
 sturdy, and never knew such a thing as fear. 
 Often when she went to fetch the cattle home- 
 ward in the cool of the evenings, she was ac- 
 companied by a younger brother and sister. The 
 children all loved these excursions into the land 
 of laurel and rhododendron, where there were 
 tall pines, splashing cascades, and dark, mossy 
 paths. The cattle were liberally supplied with 
 bells, so that they could be heard a long distance. 
 But as evening approached, they generally 
 wended their way off the highest eminences, be-
 
 344 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ing oftenest found waiting patiently along the 
 Bastress Road. 
 
 Out on the summits a few brown bears and 
 wild-cats still lingered, but these creatures hard- 
 ly ever molested live-stock, and never troubled 
 human-beings. A little girl named Phoebe Arm- 
 priester, who lived on the present site of Nip- 
 peno Park, once wandered into the forest where 
 she met with a huge, brown bear, which took 
 good care of her until she was rescued by her 
 almost-frantic father a few days later. 
 
 Little Caroline loved the woods and all wild 
 nature. Often she saw deer on her rambles; 
 they appeared to be quite friendly with the 
 cattle. Foxes many times crossed the road in 
 front of her ; once she saw one destroy a yellow- 
 jackets ' nest by flopping its tail on the aperture, 
 of the hive attracting the insects, and then 
 knocking them to the ground and devouring 
 them. Rabbits, squirrels, porcupines and wood- 
 chucks scarcely moved at her approach. Ravens 
 were plentiful, croaking among the mature yel- 
 low pines on the high table-lands. There were 
 still a few strutting heath-cocks, and numerous 
 wild turkeys, ruffed grouse, and bob whites. The
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 345 
 
 great blue herons and brown bitterns waded in 
 the fern-banked pools. Cardinal birds, wood 
 thrushes and rare warblers sang in the deep 
 woods. The shrill-voiced Blue Jays, as if fearful 
 of being seen, darted from tree to tree through 
 the dense foliage. She loved especially the sad 
 notes of the upland plover. Often the wild pig- 
 eons' nests could be seen among the wide-spread- 
 ing beeches. Wild flowers of all kinds abounded, 
 and huckleberries, dishberries and wild goose- 
 berries grew in profusion in patches where the 
 timber had been cut away. It was an inspiring 
 influence to a sensible, impressionable child like 
 Caroline, who appreciated her daily visits to 
 the wilds as the modern child does an art gal- 
 lery or theatrical performance. 
 
 One evening, the last part of October, when 
 she started out, she could feel that the air was 
 becoming much cooler. She loved this time of the 
 year, with its intimation of a change of seasons. 
 She noticed places on the mountain sides where 
 the sun had shone at this hour earlier in the sum- 
 mer but were now obscured in shadow. As she 
 walked along the steep road, she broke off stalks 
 of the withered Joe Pye weed, or stooped to
 
 346 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 pluck the dainty Blue-wood asters. The decidu- 
 ous trees were tinted with the colors of the rain- 
 bow. 
 
 High up on the mountain road she could hear 
 the melodious cow-bells, the cattle were far from 
 home this evening. They had to go further 
 out on the summits to get pasture as the season 
 progressed. Several times the energetic little 
 girl called to her brother and sister to walk fast- 
 er, she hated to leave them out of her sight in 
 the advancing gloom. There was very little sun 
 left except on the mountain tops; the gorge up 
 which the road wound was now the color-tone of 
 dusk. 
 
 As they climbed higher and higher, they 
 neared a clearing where once an early settler's 
 home had stood. Often the cattle waited for 
 their drivers in that spot, as there was much 
 clover among the grass, and cool shade from 
 the ancient "wild" apple and plum trees, plant- 
 ed there in Indian days. In the stillness of the 
 autumn evening, it was a quaint spot, pastured 
 smooth, with dry mullein and milkweed; sumac 
 with reddened leaves was growing near to where
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 347 
 
 the stones of the old foundations raised their 
 heads. 
 
 As Caroline and her little brother and sister 
 passed along the road, they noticed a large, black 
 object, seated on its haunches, under an apple 
 tree. It could not be a calf from its attitude, 
 yet it was too big to be a dog. The trio eyed 
 it critically, and then Caroline told the others 
 to remain where they were until she went closer 
 and saw for herself. 
 
 Bravely she walked across the field, towards 
 where the monster sat watching her. When she 
 got close, she saw that she was literally walking 
 into the jaws of a giant wolf. The creature was 
 coal-black, with great brown bars running 
 around its body ; evidently it had not yet gotten 
 its winter coat. Its head was large and broad, 
 with narrow, pointed ears. The eyes were round 
 and somewhat bloodshot, the mouth cut far back, 
 with cruel, white teeth protruding. The chest was 
 broad, the forelegs heavy and powerfully mus- 
 cled. It made no move, even when the little 
 investigator turned to leave the spot. She wasn 't 
 in the least afraid, she had the courage to face
 
 348 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 a dozen wolves. This was the first live wolf she 
 had ever seen. 
 
 Her father, and his next door neighbor, Mike 
 Curts, had killed many brown wolves, fetching 
 the hides back from their expeditions to be cured 
 before selling them. During the past winter, an 
 exceptionally well-coated wolf-hide rested on 
 her smallest brother's cradle. Wolves were 
 nothing new to her, she had heard of their fe- 
 rocity and hideousness ever since she was old 
 enough to understand. But this wolf was big- 
 ger by far tha she had ever seen; in color, it 
 was most distinctive. 
 
 "With admirable calmness she returned to her 
 little companions, and told them to go home, 
 that she would fetch the cows alone. At first 
 they demurred, but she explained that the beasts 
 were far away, that it would make them very 
 tired to climb to the crest of the mountain. She 
 watched the two little people, as they toddled 
 down the winding road, hand in hand. When 
 they had gotten almost to the high-road, she re- 
 sumed her way up the mountain in search of 
 the cows.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 349 
 
 As she left the vicinity of the old clearing, 
 she looked back over her shoulder ; the wolf was 
 still sitting there. When, nearly an hour later, 
 and it was almost dark, she came back with the 
 drove of lowing cattle, the brute was still resting 
 under the apple tree. He made no move to molest 
 cows or child. Caroline, in passing the wolf, af- 
 fected an air of nonchalance and she even 
 stopped to pick a spray of late asters directly op- 
 posite to where he sat. When she had gotten the 
 animals to the highroad in safety, she threw 
 some pebbles at them, urging them into a trot, 
 which she kept them to until she caught up with 
 her little brother and sister. 
 
 It was quite dark when the party turned into 
 the narrow lane which led to the Steyne cottage. 
 "What makes you so late?" asked the little cow- 
 girl's father, when she turned the cattle over 
 to him. 
 
 Caroline looked him squarely in the eyes, say- 
 ing that she had met with a giant black wolf at 
 the old clearing on the Bastress Road. 
 
 "And you didn't run?" said the good man, 
 almost incredulously.
 
 350 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 "We surely did not," replied the little girl, 
 "because if we did, all would have been lost." 
 
 Steyne went into the house and told the story 
 to his wife, who became much agitated. He asked 
 her to milk the cows, then took down his favorite 
 rifle from its rack, and strode out of the house. 
 Calling his dogs, he repaired to the home of his 
 neighbor, Mike Curts. This worthy wolfer 
 swung his trusty rifle over his shoulder, called 
 for his dogs, and accompanied Steyne to the 
 home of another neighbor, John Phillips. Like 
 a snowball rolling down hill, the hunting party 
 gained in numbers. It was joined by Jesse 
 Hughes, Jacob Youngman, Alanson Stevens, 
 Adam Greenlee, Peter Brosius and others. 
 Among them was a pack of at least twenty 
 formidable looking dogs. 
 
 As they marched through Antes Gap, swing- 
 ing their tin lanterns, they looked like soldiers 
 headed for the field of battle. The fall hylodes 
 serenaded them from the grass as they tramped 
 along. They wended their way to the old clearing 
 on the Bastress Road, where the dogs soon took 
 up the scent, although the wolf was nowhere to be 
 found. The trial led up the steep face of the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 351 
 
 mountain, the baying of the dogs making sweet 
 music in the crisp night-air. It was a hard 
 climb, and several of the old-fashioned lanterns 
 were dropped and extinguished. There were a 
 few stars visible, but no moon. 
 
 On the topmost peak of the mountain, the dogs 
 seemed to have cornered their victim. They 
 drove it around and around the narrow point, 
 alternately howling with pleasure or pain. When 
 the hunters got to them, the wolf had evidently 
 broken through the line of its tormentors and 
 headed for the level tableland on to the east. 
 There, if it outran its pursuers, it would have 
 to break into open country in Mosquito Valley. 
 But it had no such intention. After leading 
 the dogs a merry chase for five miles straight- 
 way, it doubled on its tracks, coming back in the 
 direction of the hunters. 
 
 John Phillips, who had been a member of the 
 party of deer slayers who had formed a cordon 
 across the Bald Eagle Mountain a year or so 
 previously suggested that the huntsmen now 
 spread out, and every man make an effort to 
 stop the wolf's progress through their line. They 
 were on a vast open plateau, where the timber
 
 352 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 did not grow thickly, it was carpeted with ferns 
 and huckleberry bushes; objects were discern- 
 able even on a moonless night. It was very cold 
 on that height, almost like a night in mid- winter. 
 Nearer and nearer came the wolf with the 
 angry hounds close at his heels. The hunters 
 primed their guns, wondering who would have 
 the lucky shot. As it came in sight, it was head- 
 ed to go between Jesse Hughes and John Phil- 
 lips. Both were expert shots, and had killed 
 many wolves and panthers; they did not calcu- 
 late to miss. They had arranged to fire ahead 
 at the brute's head, so as not to endanger one 
 another. On it came, magnified in the uncertain 
 light to the size of a horse. It would have given 
 "buck fever" to any but experienced nimrods. 
 Hughes and Phillips both fired at thirty feet. 
 They thought they heard a snort of pain, but 
 the brute still advanced. The dogs were but a 
 dozen feet behind. As it passed between the 
 two hunters, they struck at it with their rifle 
 barrels, dealing it heavy blows on the back. As 
 it passed out of sight, it seemed to redouble its 
 speed. It darted down a steep ravine which cut 
 alcfng the' big mcta-nta-m, eventually join-
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 353 
 
 ing Wi-daagh's Creek Hollow, poted for its 
 cool breezes, which comes out at the public road 
 near the site of the present stone woolen mill. 
 
 There was nothing for the hunters to do but 
 to scramble down the circuitous gorge as best 
 they could. Part of the way they had to walk 
 over the slippery stones of a running brook, and 
 bend over to avoid the low-hanging boughs of 
 the ancient hemlocks. All the lights were lost 
 or extinguished by this time. The hunters were 
 stumbling, tripping, some were swearing. The 
 dogs were following the trail bravely, so they 
 must back up their faithful canines. It was now 
 the time which the older hunters called "the 
 hour between dog and wolf. ' ' There were streaks 
 of dawn above the mountain they had just left, 
 when they came in sight of the Antes Gap road. 
 The dogs were barking loudly ; it sounded as if 
 the wolf had been brought to bay. 
 
 As the hunters crossed the road, a sorry look- 
 ing, torn and exhausted lot, they could see two 
 thin trails of blood, side by side, in the sand. 
 There was also blood on the worm fence on the 
 far side of the road, over which the wolf had 
 leaped. Beyond the fence was an open field,
 
 354 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 with a few old apple trees in it. A dense fog 
 had risen from the creek; it was difficult to see 
 far ahead. The hunters were almost upon the 
 dogs and the wolf before they saw them. They 
 could only judge the distance by the terrific 
 racket. In the grey morning light they could 
 make out the wolf, propped up against one of 
 the apple trees, his forefeet bloody and helpless, 
 biting and snapping at the hounds. 
 
 Already several of the dogs appeared to have 
 had enough of it; one of them had both of his 
 long ears chewed off. But the wolf, game to 
 the end, was evidently determined to die fight- 
 ing. Mike Curts, who was the first man on the 
 scene, levelled his rifle at the monster's skull, 
 and fired. There was a loud report, and when 
 the smoke and vapor lifted, the wolf lay dead 
 among the on-rushing dogs. It took the com- 
 bined strength of all the hunters to beat the 
 hounds off, and prevent them from tearing the 
 carcass to pieces. It was rescued,, and before 
 skinning, laid out in the field and measured. 
 From tip to tip, it came to three inches under 
 six feet. Its estimated weight was one hundred 
 ptfaofis. -
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 355 
 
 The hunters examined it carefully, noticing 
 that in addition to Curts' bullet, it had been 
 shot through both shoulders. These were the 
 bullets put at it by John Phillips and Jesse 
 Hughes; had they not hit, doubtless it would 
 have eluded its pursuers. With both fore-shoul- 
 ders broken, it had run down the precipitous 
 mountain side, across a four-foot fence, keeping 
 on bravely until pain and disabilities compelled 
 it to make its last stand by the old apple tree. 
 
 John Phillips looked at it, saying, "Boys, we 
 have made a great kill, this is surely the famous 
 packet-boat wolf." Then he shook Mike Curts 
 by the hand, telling him that he deserved a 
 deathless fame for speeding the deciding bullet. 
 The other hunters grouped around the lucky 
 man, overwhelming him with congratulations. 
 
 Curts shook his head, saying that the real 
 credit was due to little Caroline Steyne, who 
 had given the alarm. 
 
 That night, when the Williamsport-Lock Ha- 
 ven packet-boat made its initial trip after the 
 repairs to the canal consequent to the great flood, 
 no barking wolf followed its lights from the dis- 
 tant summits of the "dark and sombre ridjofe"
 
 356 
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 of the Bald Eagles. All was still, except the 
 melancholy hylodes in the tall, twisted acacia 
 trees by the tow-path. Night followed night, but 
 the packet-wolf was never heard again. He had 
 ended his life of mystery fighting gamely like a 
 black knight.
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE CURSED WOODS. 
 (A Legend of One of Nature's Blights.) 
 
 E were riding along the out- 
 skirts of the Black Forest, one 
 afternoon in the early autumn. 
 For a long distance the original 
 forest grew close to both sides 
 of the road. The gaint hemlocks and beeches 
 towered seemingly to the Blue Dome, the dark 
 green of the former, and the paler green of the 
 latter producing a marvelous tapestried effect. 
 The pure air, the breath of the forest, swept 
 across our path in every ravine, through which 
 little streams, newly born, meandered, their 
 courses checkered by fallen, moss-covered logs. 
 Beneath the giant trees was a mysterious pur- 
 ple light, not unlike what one sees in old cathe- 
 drals in France and Italy, where there is much 
 mediaeval, richly-tinted stained glass. The 
 ground was carpeted with moss, with here and 
 there tufts of delicate ferns, and in the deeper 
 
 857
 
 358 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 recesses grew the porcelain-like beech-drops. In 
 the soft light, it was only in keeping that the 
 songs of the birds should be subdued. Once we 
 heard the solo of a Blackburnian warbler, and on 
 several occasions dimly the echoes of the wood- 
 thrush's exquisite choir. On one occasion, a 
 porcupine ambled across the road some distance 
 in front of our horses, looking like some digni- 
 fied sacristan. 
 
 We felt ourselves in Nature 's Cathedral, which 
 alas, like many other cathedrals, was only too 
 soon to be levelled by the ruthless hand of man. 
 If ancient churches must fall to make room for 
 improvements, what chance has a forest, remote 
 from appreciative persons, who at most are a 
 small and sometimes un-influential class? But 
 it is a great pity nevertheless that future genera- 
 tions, and most of the present generation, must 
 regard the Black Forest as a tradition, with only 
 a few published descriptions and fewer photo- 
 graphs as proofs that it actually existed. 
 
 Fortunate, yes blessed, is the writer of these 
 lines, though born in a great city, to have spent 
 considerable time and been in a measure able 
 to appreciate Nature's Cathedral, the vast and
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 359 
 
 limitless, the inspiring, the soft-lighted and 
 sweet-scented, the ever happy, the vanished for- 
 ever Black Forest of Pennsylvania. 
 
 As we rode along, we came to several small 
 clearings, in which stood log-cabins and log 
 barns. The dwellers in these modest abodes 
 worked in the lumber camps, also raising pota- 
 toes and hay to sell to the lumbermen. In the 
 fence corners were a number of original chest- 
 nut trees, saved from the demolition of the sur- 
 rounding woods, great slim-boled monarchs, 
 sending up shafts a hundred feet, unmarred by 
 branches, culminating in graceful, umbrella- 
 shaped tops. These big trees were laden with 
 the green-burrs, as it was before the days of 
 the chestnut blight. In those days, it seemed 
 unthinkable that suddenly a whole race of trees 
 could be literally swept off the face of the earth, 
 and man powerless to stop it. The axe might do 
 it, but never an invisible insect ! 
 
 As we rode further on, the gilt clouds of the 
 golden hour succeeded the bluer coloring of the 
 afternoon sky. We came near a strange looking 
 area on the brow of a hill. For a stretch of 
 possibly fifty or sixty acres all the timber on
 
 360 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 both sides of the road was dead. The white, 
 barkless trunks were in strange contrast to the 
 living, porpitating green of the growing trees. 
 It was like the skeleton at the wedding feast, or 
 the graveyard of the Black Forest ! As we drew 
 nearer we saw the remains of a little clearing, 
 with the rotting foundations of a cabin, a half- 
 fallen down chimney and out-buildings, but all 
 strangely barren and devoid of berry-bushes, 
 sumacs, Virginia creepers, and fireweed, the usu- 
 al complement of ruins in these parts. About 
 the buildings were a few broken stobs of ancient 
 apple trees. It looked like a picture of desola- 
 tion, no wonder the property had been aband- 
 oned. 
 
 Yet the sombre has always had a charm for 
 the writer. Just as he would always stop at old 
 graveyards to decipher the inscriptions, and 
 ponder over the lives of the interred, this dead 
 forest, this dead house, this dead ground, pecu- 
 liarly appealed to him. He reined up his horse 
 Trident, gazing intently at the solemn scene. 
 
 All was silent until a red-headed woodpacker 
 began banging like a trip-hammer at the silvery 
 trunk of one of the dead hemlocks. It looked
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 361 
 
 as if some beetle or blight had ravaged the forest, 
 and the dwellers in the humble home at its edge, 
 overcome by the awesomenss of death, had moved 
 away horribly depressed. For even the death 
 of trees, and even flowers can affect some of us. 
 Or perhaps a forest fire had killed the trees, 
 and the dwellers had fled for their lives, never 
 to return. Or perhaps they had given up their 
 lives fighting the flames at the edge of the clear- 
 ing. There were no signs that the buildings 
 had been burned; if fire was the destroyer, a 
 rain or back-fire must have stopped it before 
 the buildings were reached. 
 
 These and many other thoughts puzzled the 
 writer, as he sat on his faithful horse that calm 
 September evening. But there was no immedi- 
 ate answer until that night, when a stop was 
 made at Dyer's comfortable boarding house at 
 the headwaters of the East Branch of Young 
 Woman's Creek. There the writer met an old 
 friend, a Grand Army man, who knew the woods 
 well, and whose active mind teemed with legends 
 and anecdotes of the long ago. He was the only 
 person at the supper table who was aware of 
 the story of the dead timber and the abandoned
 
 362 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 clearing. Most of those living along the Pike 
 did not possess memories long enough, perhaps 
 some of them, imbued with the materialism 
 which was soon to sweep away the Black Forest, 
 didn't care. 
 
 After supper a stroll was taken along the 
 rocky road which led from the Dyer home to 
 the Pike, while the old soldier unravelled the 
 mystery. It dated back to the dark days of 
 1832, when the United States Government, urged 
 on by the "big business" of that time, made a 
 treaty with the Menomonies, a tribe of Indians 
 living near Green Bay, Wisconsin, by which 
 five hundred thousand acres of land were pur- 
 chased from them as a future home for the Sene- 
 cas and other redmen, residing in New York 
 State. It was stipulated that the New York In- 
 dians should be removed there within three 
 years, or their right to it would be forfeited, 
 and it would revert to the United States. 
 
 This, it was hoped, would induce them to sell 
 their reservations in New York to the shrewd 
 land grabbers on easy terms. The Senecas paid 
 no attention to the treaty. They were satisfied 
 with their old homes, where they had been so
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 363 
 
 happy, and cared nothing for the forfeiture of 
 lands which they had not purchased and did not 
 want. In the hope that they might be brought 
 to change their minds, a supplementary article 
 was procured, by which the time for their re- 
 moval was left to the discretion of the President. 
 In this way matters remained until 1837. 
 
 About this time, the magnates who desired to 
 obtain the Indians' lands in New York, became 
 impatient, and sent a band of hired agents to 
 bring the matter to a head, by bribery or other- 
 wise. One of these agents afterwards said that 
 he had paid one chief two thousand dollars cash, 
 and gave him a lease at nominal rental during 
 occupancy, of the farm on which he lived, on 
 consideration that he used the best of his exer- 
 tions and endeavors to secure a treaty such as 
 the land company desired, which would insure 
 the speedy removal of the Indians. He was 
 promised further pay at the time of the removal. 
 Another chief, upon the removal, was to receive 
 five thousand dollars cash. 
 
 As the result of bribery, and the debauching 
 and making drunk of the chiefs, a number of 
 signatures were secured ratifying the treaty of
 
 364 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 removal. Among the signers were ten Indians 
 who had been made chiefs illegally for the espe- 
 cial purpose of signing the treaty. Six actual 
 chiefs whose signatures appeared solemnly 
 swore that they never signed it, nor authorized 
 others to sign it in their behalf. But the signa- 
 tures of a majority of chiefs real or fraudulent 
 were never obtained. But the result was, as 
 expected, the Senecas were crowded into a nar- 
 row reservation, stripped of their best lands, 
 and humbled to the dirt. 
 
 The Indian who was to receive five thousand 
 dollars in cash at the time when the Senecas 
 were compelled to part with their choicest lands, 
 clamored for his pay, but it was not forth-com- 
 ing. He was told that matters had not turned 
 out quite as were expected, that the land com- 
 pany owed him nothing. As a traitor to his 
 people he had "burned his bridges," now he 
 would not even have enough money to leave the 
 country. He was ostracized; his life threat- 
 ened ; the only thing left was to get away. The 
 fat, well-paid agents of the land company 
 sneered at him, and finally threw him bodily out
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 365 
 
 of their office in Batavia, when he became too 
 loud in his protests. 
 
 In his fall down a flight of steps he broke both 
 legs. His squaw and his sons carried him into 
 the centre of a swamp, where they nursed him 
 until he was able to get about again. He was 
 a wretched cripple after that, hobbling about 
 with two heavy staffs. On his first re-appear- 
 ance in the village, he was set upon by two half- 
 breeds in the employ of the land agents and 
 beaten into insensibility. That was an invita- 
 tion, without words, never to come to town again. 
 His sons found him more helpless than ever, 
 lying by the roadside the next morning. "White 
 men going to and fro from the settlement had 
 seen the unconscious figure, but offered no help. 
 Let us be charitable and say that they thought 
 he was a drunken Indian, a sight common 
 enough in those days. 
 
 Robbed of his high estate, the renegade chief 
 went by the name of Billy Bowlegs, on account 
 of the crookedness of his limbs after his acci- 
 dent. But he must not be confused with the 
 Semmole Chief Bowlegs, who was a very dif-
 
 366 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ferent sort of person, and who was a leader in 
 the uprising of 1812 on the Georgian frontier. 
 
 The sons of Billy Bowlegs in some manner be- 
 came the owners of a very dilapidated looking 
 horse, a travesty on the equine race, blind of 
 both eyes, and minus ears and tail. It had been 
 mutilated by some previous Indian owner in a 
 drunken orgy, but survived its hurts for many 
 years. On this the crippled chief was mounted, 
 like Hudibras, and started for the "free coun- 
 try" in Pennsylvania. Poles, like shafts, were 
 affixed to the horse, and it drew a kind of tra- 
 vois, on which were loaded the household uten- 
 sils. The old squaw and the sons marched along- 
 side, forming a curious-loking ' ' cavalcade. ' ' 
 
 In order to avoid ridicule or interference, 
 most of the travelling was done by night. Two 
 Indian dogs of the ancient grey-colored breed, 
 accompanied the party in order to ward off at- 
 tacks from the night-prowling canines of the 
 settlers, whose homes they necessarily must pass. 
 And the Indian dogs, with their wolfish aspect, 
 their small, erect, pointed ears, were a match for 
 any dog of European stock, no matter if twice 
 thfcir size. The party followed this Genesis
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 367 
 
 River to its source, and then climbed over the 
 ridge, and moved southerly along the Genesee 
 Fork of Tiadaghton. 
 
 At about the present site of Galeton, they left 
 the creek, continuing south, until they found a 
 comfortable location along the Coudersport Pike, 
 then in course of construction. They camped 
 near a sweet spring, finding hunting and trap- 
 ping good. When the Pike was completed, they 
 pre-empted a log-cabin, which had been occu- 
 pied by a gang of Irish laborers. Only enough 
 trees had been cut out of the forest to make room 
 for the structure, but the two young Indians 
 soon set to work making a field of tillable size 
 about it. This they planted with apple, peach, 
 pear and plum trees, which they carried all the 
 way from Coudersport, having obtained them in 
 exchange for furs. 
 
 Nobody seemed to claim the land on which 
 they were living. White men with whom they 
 talked said it could be bought for fifty cents an 
 acre, if the rightful owners could be found. At 
 that time, if it had private ownership, it was 
 being sold and re-sold for taxes. Nobody wanted 
 such remote^ mountainous laud* Hemlock tim-
 
 368 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 her had no value, besides the Black Forest was 
 so far from market. Some of this land was sur- 
 veyed for the first time by James David and his 
 son Flavius , about 1865, several years after Billy 
 Bowlegs had gone to his future state. 
 
 Like Red-Jacket, with whom he had once been 
 on terms of intimacy, the crippled chief held to 
 his Pagan faith. He believed in the Gitchi- 
 Manitto or Great Spirit, with a host of lesser 
 divinities, and a reward for the spirits of the 
 brave. But his beliefs were not very coherent, 
 neither did they form a very active part in his 
 every-day life. He was of a sullen, taciturn dis- 
 position in his latter years, very different from 
 his sons. 
 
 The boys became fast friends with the stage- 
 drivers and packers, who generally watered 
 their horses at the spring at the clearing. This 
 brought them in touch with travellers and trad- 
 ers, who bought their furs without their having 
 to take them to Coudersport or Jersey Shore. To 
 attract attention they always kept bear, panther, 
 wolf, fisher, fox and deer skins nailed on the cabin 
 and the out-buildings. Many persons not other- 
 interested would see the hides,, and want to
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 369 
 
 buy one or two or them as souvenirs of their 
 trip through the Black Forest. Occasionally 
 the boys guided parties on hunting or fishing 
 expeditions, but in those days the region was 
 too remote to be known by many city sportsmen. 
 When panthers, wolves and elk could be killed 
 in the "Elk Forest" in the Pocono Mountains, 
 and bears, wild-cats, deer and even wolves were 
 still abundant in the Blue Mountains, hunters 
 from Philadelphia, Harrisburg, Lancaster and 
 Reading did not find it necessary to take a long 
 journey like to Potter County in search of game, 
 big or small. 
 
 Billy Bowlegs hated the sight of all strangers, 
 but especially white men. He might have had 
 a lingering fear of being dispossessed, or the 
 unforgetable memory of the chicanery and vio- 
 lence he had suffered at their hands. Indians 
 occasionally spent a night at the cabin upon in- 
 vitation of the boys or the squaw, but they were 
 mostly Pennsylvania redskins, who were igno- 
 rant of the land steals in New York State. To 
 these the old chief was courteous, but had little 
 to say.
 
 370 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 When New York Indians appeared, the entire 
 family put forward every effort to conceal their 
 identities. They might have been murdered in 
 their sleep had the truth been known. The old 
 man was too decrepid to do any farming or 
 wood-cutting, but took the greatest pride in his 
 little orchard. The altitude was favorable for 
 fruit culture, and in those days of abundant 
 birds, scales and insect pests were unknown. 
 The chief pleasure was in trimming and graft- 
 ing, and digging about the roots of the grow- 
 ing trees. Some Indian apple trees were found 
 along Rightman's Creek, being transplanted 
 with excellent results and other varieties grafted 
 on them. 
 
 The old savage was very happy in his wilder- 
 ness home. He forgot about his wrongs when he 
 saw no white men; he was leading a new life 
 as it were. His greatest joy was looking forward 
 to the year when his trees would bear for the 
 first time. While the peach trees had already 
 blossomed, the others would all bear fruit at 
 about the same time. But he was impatient, 
 waiting for the time, often cursing and swear- 
 ing \rheto rainy days came, whitfh p&aseft slttwty.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 371 
 
 With no education, he had no mental resources 
 to ease his irritable disposition. He had been 
 born for a life of activity and leadership which 
 had been denied him through his being a traitor 
 and a cripple. He had been in his mountain 
 retreat about eight years when the season for 
 the fruit crop drew near. The previous winter 
 was long, and he was never before so exacting 
 and cantankerous. He was always cursing the 
 slow passage of time, going into paroxysms of 
 rage at every snowfall, which might delay the 
 coming of the bluebirds. His sons often camped 
 in the forest, ostensibly to trap, to get aAvay from 
 him; the old squaw was worried into a state of 
 prostration. 
 
 With the coming of the blue-birds, the shad- 
 cocks and the shad-flies, the old man was some- 
 what more composed. The boys entertained him 
 all they could, carrying him in a litter to Right- 
 man 's Creek, where he could see them catching 
 the mammoth suckers with their hands. But he 
 was hard to divert. All he could talk or think 
 about was blossom-time, and his prospective 
 fruit-crop. His father and grandfather had 
 been famed for their orchards ; it Was one of his
 
 372 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 grandfather's plantations that was cut down by 
 General Sullivan during the expedition into the 
 Iroquois Country in 1777. 
 
 The blossoms came out in all their loveliness, 
 in what appeared to be an early spring. Surely 
 they would be followed by an immense crop for 
 such young trees, if climatic conditions contin- 
 ued favorable. The aged Indian literally lived 
 in his orchard, watching the various colored, 
 sweet-scented blooms with the concern of a pa- 
 rent. He carried a shot gun all the time, killing 
 every bird that drew near his precious trees. 
 In that respect he was a precursor of the silly 
 generations of white men, who slaughtered the 
 birds, their best friends, when they visited their 
 orchards and gardens for the purpose of devour- 
 ing insect pests. 
 
 One evening, while the blossoms were at their 
 height, the sun went down unusually silvery and 
 cold. The old man sat by the red glow of his 
 open fire-place, while the North wind blew down 
 the chimney and whistled about the eaves of the 
 house. Outside the giant hemlocks swayed and 
 creaked with ominous cadences. The Indian was 
 too cold and shivery to worry abo'ut his trees
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 373 
 
 his squaw and sons feared to mention the sub- 
 ject to him. During the night the wind ceased, 
 but a heavy frost occurred. When the old man 
 looked out of doors in the morning, the ground 
 was white ; when the sun came out every blossom 
 was killed by the black frost. 
 
 It was then and there that old Billy Bowlegs 
 lost his self-control. Cursing and screaming he 
 ran out into the orchard as fast as his long staffs 
 would permit. He hurled imprecations and an- 
 athemas against the Gitchi-Manitto that permit- 
 ted such a blight to occur. He shook his staff 
 at the Heavens, stamped his lame feet, and ex- 
 erted himself so much that he became dizzy, 
 sinking to the ground in a heap. The frightened 
 family, awed by the old man's blasphemy and 
 violent actions, stood quiescent in the doorway 
 until they saw him fall. Then they rushed for- 
 ward, picking him up tenderly and carried him 
 into the house . They pried open his whiskered 
 lips, and poured a pint of whiskey down his 
 throat. When he came to himself, it was not 
 in a spirit of thankfulness that he spoke, but 
 with a renewed torrent of profanity. This he 
 kept up all day long, until he sank asleep, ex-
 
 374 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 hausted at nightfall. When he woke up the 
 next morning, he was too weak to leave his 
 couch, though his mind seemed to be more ra- 
 tional. 
 
 He attributed the unseasonable frost which 
 had killed the blossoms to the curse put on him 
 at the time he had betrayed his tribesmen to the 
 land thieves, but not to his long continued prac- 
 tice of profanity. 
 
 "But I still have the trees, in another year 
 I '11 have blossoms again, ' ' was the extent of his 
 philosophy. 
 
 But even that was not to be. By some strange 
 phenomenon of nature, the trees were killed at 
 the same time as the blossoms. The leaves shriv- 
 elled, and no new ones came out again. By au- 
 tumn the trunks and branches were dry and 
 brittle. The old Indian suffered keenly from 
 this added disappointment. He went around 
 the orchard every evening, cutting off twigs in 
 the hope of finding signs of life somewhere. 
 When he returned for supper, he stormed and 
 swore, eating little in his excited condition. 
 
 Once he was so angry that he threw a cup 
 of scalding coffee over his faithful squaw's
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 376 
 
 breast and shoulders. In a civilized community, 
 he would have been locked up; in the Black 
 Forest he could act as mean as he wished until 
 the end. 
 
 In the next spring, a few of the apple trees 
 sprouted out at the roots, but most of these died 
 away during the dry spell in August, despite 
 the old man's valiant efforts to keep them wa- 
 tered. When he saw that his work was in vain, 
 he turned his thoughts to the big hemlock tim- 
 ber, which stood on three sides of his clearing. 
 
 "Boys," he said to his sons, "some day those 
 trees will make a fortune for us. Go out and 
 stake off a hundred acres, and when we have 
 been here twenty-one years unmolested, it will 
 be mine in the sight of the law." 
 
 There was considerable foresight in this, as 
 settlers were beginning to take up homesteads 
 along the Pike, and there was an increasing de- 
 mand for lumber. Several Irishmen,, who had 
 helped to build the road had remained, and 
 after ten years had improved farms of which 
 they could be proud; and now Swiss, Germans 
 and New Englanders were coming. The boys 
 blazed the trees on what they approximated to
 
 376 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 be a hundred acres, chuckling to themselves over 
 their father's sagacity. 
 
 "Some day," said one of the youths, "the 
 old man will get five thousand dollars for this 
 timber, or just as much as the damned land 
 agents in York State cheated him out of." 
 
 Years passed, and no claimant for the hundred 
 acres appeared. Billy Bowlegs, under the name 
 of William Green, took title to the tract at the 
 Court House in Coudersport. He was eighty 
 years old, but it had paid him to be patient; his 
 impatience had been punished in the past. He 
 had long since given up his hobby for fruit trees, 
 and of later years had turned his attention to 
 garden-truck and bees. The latter the Indians 
 used to call the "white men's flies." One by one 
 the tracts of land along the Pike had been taken 
 up and cleared; those further back had passed 
 into the hands of big lumber companies in "Wil- 
 liamsport and New York State. There were a 
 dozen small sawmills on the Pike between Jer- 
 sey Shore and Coudersport. 
 
 One summer afternoon, a ponderous German, 
 who was buying up hemlock lands for a tanning 
 company, stopped at the old man's home. He
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 377 
 
 liked the looks of the thrifty body of white hem- 
 locks, which adjoined to the north a much larger 
 tract which he purchased the year before at a 
 tax-sale. In fact, it gave him right of way to 
 the Pike. He priced the Indian's timber, but 
 he said he would not sell it without the land and 
 buildings, all of which he held at five thousand 
 dollars. 
 
 The German offered him three thousand, 
 which he accepted on the condition that his boys 
 be given the job for peeling the bark the fol- 
 lowing summer, and that a cash rental be paid 
 for allowing the camps and stables to be erected 
 on his clearing facing the Pike. All this he 
 figured would bring the total up to the five thou- 
 sand mark. That night was the happiest the old 
 man had spent since the days before he had be- 
 come a traitor and exile. 
 
 The big job was to be opened the following 
 spring, and he would have cash for his timber, 
 work for his boys, rent for his ground, and he 
 might raise some potatoes and hay for the woods- 
 men and their teams. 
 
 During the dry spell, which lasted from early 
 in August into September, he noticed that some
 
 378 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 of the hemlock trees were becoming brown. He 
 sent the boys to investigate; they reported that 
 a beetle was working under the bark. Every tree 
 seemed to be affected, they said. 
 
 The old man 's confidence for the future turned 
 to alarm. Every day he looked at the forest 
 back of the house ; the trees seemed to the brown- 
 ing before his eyes. By autumn some of them 
 had lost their needles entirely. During the win- 
 ter, the disease, or whatever it was progressed. 
 By the first of April, when the German returned 
 to close the contract, every tree was doomed. 
 Among the hard, dry trunks could be heard the 
 "boom, boom, boom," of the strong bills of the 
 pileated woodpeckers or weather cocks. Al- 
 though the work of the hemlock beetles is plen- 
 tiful enough to-day, the German tanneryman 
 had never seen the like. 
 
 "What is the cause of it?" he asked with 
 wonderment in his voice. 
 
 "Shall I tell you the truth?" replied the old 
 Indian, with a sob in his voice. ' ' They are cursed 
 woods ; I sold out my tribe to land thieves thirty 
 years ago; I have had no luck since."
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 379 
 
 .The old squaw, who was peeling potatoes in- 
 side the kitchen hobbled to the back door. ' ' Billy 
 may have been a traitor, but I don't think he 
 meant any harm; his bad luck came from an- 
 other reason. He was always cursing and swear- 
 ing and blaming the Heavens, and none can pros- 
 per who do that."
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE SCREAMING SKULL. 
 (A Ghost Story of the Pike.) 
 
 HERE is universality to psychic 
 experience. Readers of In- 
 gram 's "Haunted Houses, and 
 Family Legends of Great Brit- 
 ain" will remember the tale of 
 the "screaming skull" of Bettiscombe House, 
 near Bridport, in Dorsetshire, which made an 
 awful racket every time it was moved from its 
 favorite resting place on a window-ledge. There 
 was a story of another screaming skull current 
 on the Coudersport Pike a score of years ago, 
 which had many points of similarity to the Eng- 
 lish legend. 
 
 This goes to prove that all legends have had a 
 common origin, or that there are as definite laws 
 in the unseen, not understood world, as in the 
 physical world, the laws of which mankind is 
 slowly growing to understand. The writer of 
 these lines would like to believe that there is an 
 380
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 381 
 
 unseen world which some day will be laid before 
 us, after we have grasped the facts of the world 
 we see about us. And he has had intimations 
 of such a world, else he could not seriously at- 
 tempt the task of preserving stories such as 
 these. 
 
 But even apart from ghost stories, there is a 
 current parallelism between all legends. Hart- 
 ing, in his ' ' Extinct British Animals, ' ' speaks of 
 a soldier in Ireland, on his way to take passage 
 for England, who had to pass through a wood, 
 and being weary sat down under a tree, opening 
 his knapsack which contained some victuals and 
 commencing to eat. 
 
 Suddenly he was surprised by several wolves, 
 which were coming towards him ; he threw them 
 some scraps of bread and cheese until all was 
 gone. The wolves made a closer approach to him, 
 and he knew not what to do, so he took a pair 
 of bagpipes which he had, and as soon as he 
 began to play upon them, all the wolves ran 
 away as if they had been scared out of their 
 wits. The soldier, disgusted, cried out, "A pox 
 take you all, if I had known you had loved
 
 382 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 music so well, you should have had it before 
 dinner. ' ' 
 
 A month ago the writer visited Treaster Val- 
 ley, Mifflin County, in order to secure some veri- 
 fication of one of the legends contained in this 
 collection. Among the many interesting persons 
 he met was one man whose father had been a 
 great wolfer in the Seven Mountains. 
 
 This man stated that once when the old gen- 
 tleman in question was a youth, and courting 
 the girl whom he afterwards married, he was 
 followed one night by several black wolves. They 
 pressed him so closely for such a long distance 
 that he determined to ward them off in some way. 
 He backed up against a tree, and began throwing 
 to the brutes pieces of smoked meat, which he 
 had with him in a basket. When it was all gone, 
 the wolves made a closer approach, and not 
 knowing what to do, he picked up a stone, and 
 began striking it against the blade of a scythe 
 which he was carrying. As soon as he began this, 
 the wolves all ran away, as if scared out of their 
 wits. The woodsman said, disgusted, "The 
 plague take you all, if I had known you liked
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 383 
 
 that sound so well, you should have had it be- 
 fore dinner." 
 
 But to return to the screaming skull of our 
 own Black Forest. For a few short weeks in the 
 early fifties, a lone highwayman named Mark 
 McCoy plied his trade on the loneliest parts of 
 the Coudersport Pike. Like William Brennan, 
 the hero of the Irish folk-song, "Brennan on the 
 Moor," McCoy only robbed the well-to-do or the 
 packers; he was said to have made presents of 
 money to the poor, especially to wretched tramps, 
 and emigrants who toiled their weary ways along 
 the forest- hidden highway. How the young 
 man got into this precarious occupation was a 
 mystery, although some hinted that an unhappy 
 love affair in his home county of Northumber- 
 land was responsible. 
 
 As he was a handsome, well set-up fellow, this 
 seemed hardly believable to the class of people 
 whose basis of love and marriage was external 
 attractiveness. But there must have been other 
 causes. McCoy had been left an orphan when 
 he was one year old; he was brought up by 
 strangers who were wholly out of sympathy with 
 him. H<3 had s'efrved a term in jail biefbise hfe ap-
 
 384 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 peared on the Pike, although the sentence was 
 received for his having beaten an aged farmer 
 for whom he worked. The quarrel had arisen be- 
 cause the old man remonstrated with him for 
 cruelly treating one of his farm horses. 
 
 Though good-looking, the highwayman pos- 
 sessed a forbidding countenance. He had ash- 
 colored hair, brown eyes, which were always 
 scowling, a somewhat colorless complexion, and a 
 stubby, brown chin-beard. The upper lip, which 
 was clean-shaved, was contracted and hard. 
 Physically, he was powerful to look at, and he 
 knew no fear. 
 
 His first victim was a wealthy lumberman 
 from Williamsport, who was driving up the Pike 
 with his body-servant, a negro, to inspect some 
 pineries which he owned on the highlands above 
 Hyner Run. On a high hill, a short distance be- 
 yond what is now the Lebo place, where the wind 
 has swept for centuries through an open grove 
 of gnarled yellow pines, the highwayman, 
 masked and booted, appeared from behind a 
 hunter's shanty, pointing a brace of pistols at 
 them. The magnate and his servant threw up 
 their hands with, ala'c'rity and submitted tb the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 385 
 
 removal of all their belongings, even to their 
 coats and vests. Then they were ordered to turn 
 about and drive back to Jersey Shore, and give 
 the alarm. By the time they got there, and the 
 constables came out on the Pike there was not a 
 trace visible of the knight of the road. 
 
 At the time of the committing of this robbery. 
 McCoy had no particular headquarters. He had 
 started up the Pike aimlessly a week before, like 
 so many others had done, as if somewhere in the 
 boundless wilderness was a Promised Land. The 
 ease in which he committed his crime tickled his 
 pride, and he determined to try again. He 
 walked in a northerly direction over the bleak, 
 wind-swept plateau until night began settling 
 down. By that time, he had come to a steep 
 ravine, which led down into one of the branches 
 of Slate Run. probably the South Fork. 
 
 The slopes of the mountain were covered with 
 a dense growth of white pine and hemlock, and 
 it seemed an interminable distance to the creek, 
 which he could hear, but not see, flowing through 
 the bottom. Although the hour was not late, it 
 was pitchy dark where he was, and growing cold, 
 although it was -in the month of Jtirie. Half way-
 
 386 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 down the mountain, he came to a path, which led 
 in a circuitous way to the valley. He was de- 
 lighted to find it, as it evidently led to some hab- 
 itation. No matter who would be living there, he 
 was sure of impressing upon the good people the 
 necessity of keeping him for the night. At 
 length, as he neared the creek, he was apprised 
 of his approach to the dwelling, by the harsh 
 barking of a dog. 
 
 As he came out into the open, he could make 
 out the lines of a small log-cabin in the centre 
 of a clearing of possibly five acres, which ex- 
 tended on both sides of the brook. A red light, 
 like a beacon, glowed in the windows, and 
 shone on the waters of the sullen, swift stream. 
 An improvised bridge consisting of a giant hem- 
 lock felled across the water led him to the modest 
 dwelling. The dog rushed at him savagely, be- 
 ing apparently unused to strangers, and he had 
 just enough time to pick up a stake at the yard 
 fence to beat it off. Defending himself with his 
 stick in one hand, he knocked on the door with 
 the other. It was opened after some hesitation 
 by a very attractive looking young girl whose 
 eyes met his ^quardy as sn'e s'tbWd ttefdre him.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 387 
 
 Instantly he was charmed by her, feeling as if 
 he had known her always. She was dark and 
 slender, rather tall, with jetty black eyes, and a 
 peculiar cast of features, the nose being aquiline 
 and turned up a trifle at the end, the lips pale 
 and pitifully thin. He told her in as few words 
 as possible that he had lost his way on the moun- 
 tain, and would like to be accommodated for the 
 night. Without hesitation the girl motioned to 
 him to enter. The room was almost dark, save 
 for the rosy glow of the fire, which cast fantastic 
 shadows on the walls and floor. Once inside, the 
 girl lit a rushlight, which stood on a table by a 
 window, enabling the unexpected guest to look 
 about him. 
 
 On chairs by the windows sat a very old man 
 and a very old woman. The woman arose from 
 her seat, but the man did not stir a muscle. He 
 was a grand looking old gentleman, with a mas- 
 sive head covered with stiff white hair, his fea- 
 tures were prominent and boldly cut; he was a 
 picture of Andrew Jackson in his latter days. 
 McCoy looked at him closely, and noticed that 
 the patriarch was blind.
 
 388 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 "Please excuse me for intruding so late in 
 the evening," said the stranger, "but as I was 
 telling this young lady, I became lost in the 
 forest, and appeared here quite by accident. My 
 name is Mark McCoy, and I come from down 
 country, near Sunbury. I am a timber prospector 
 by occupation. ' ' 
 
 The old woman said that she was glad to be of 
 service to a bewildered forester, while the old 
 man muttered something, probably to the same 
 effect. Then the young girl said that the old 
 couple were her grandparents, Burkheiser by 
 name, that they had moved into the Black Forest 
 from Berks County five years before. Her 
 mother, she said, had been dead for many years, 
 but her father, who was the old man's only son, 
 had been killed by a falling log on Tiadaghton a 
 year previous and that her name was Ava Burk- 
 heiser. TVith all these explanations made, 
 friendly relations were established, and the girl 
 set about to prepare some supper for the guest. 
 McCoy could be pleasant when he wanted to be, 
 and thanked the family for their cordial greet- 
 ing, adding that he would pay them well for any 
 trouble he might cause them.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 389 
 
 During the supper the old woman, who was 
 naturally a talkative soul, and saw few strangers 
 with whom to exchange ideas, told more of the 
 family history. She had never ceased regretting 
 leaving her comfortable homestead near Probst's 
 Town in Alleminga, in Berks, for this lonesome 
 life in the wilderness. Her son Adam, the father 
 of Ava, was a great hunter, and had killed much 
 big game on the Pinnacle, the highest point in 
 the Blue Mountains, which was near their old 
 home. The growing scarcity of wild animals 
 had made him desirous of moving into a wilder 
 country, so he had induced his parents to sell 
 everything and come with him to the Black For- 
 est. He had been very successful as a hunter, 
 killing as many as fifty bears in a winter. But 
 they never saw anybody ; there was not a human 
 habitation in the eight miles between their cabin 
 and the Pike, except a hunting shack across the 
 hill, where lived a little hunch-backed Indian 
 named Seneca White. This Indian was middle- 
 aged and infirm, but the greatest hunter in three 
 counties. He came to visit them occasionally; 
 they were always glad to see him, and he played 
 so well on the flute.
 
 390 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Early the next morning, McCoy returned to 
 the Pike, waiting all day for some fresh victim, 
 but none appeared. On the second day he met 
 and held up a band of five constables, who were 
 out looking for him with a warrant obtained by 
 his first victim, the Williamsport lumberman. 
 That night he arrived at the Burkheiser cabin 
 as unconcerned as if nothing had happened. He 
 hid his weapons and disguise in the woods, so 
 that if the place was entered and searched, noth- 
 ing incriminating could be found. He was 
 deeply in love with Ava, and flattered himself 
 to think that his ardor was reciprocated. He 
 kept away from the Pike for several days, re- 
 turning at length to hold up a well-to-do peddler. 
 
 These robberies were kept up at intervals of 
 three or four days for several weeks, to the grow- 
 ing terror of the traveling public. He never 
 molested the mail-wagon, or as stated before, 
 poor people. Consequently, the outcry against 
 him was slower at developing than it otherwise 
 might have been. He made presents to some 
 poor travelers, whom he could have robbed. 
 Some nights he laid out among the ferns, but 
 generally Ava was the loadstone that drew him
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 391 
 
 back to the humble cabin. He paid so liberally 
 for his entertainment that no questions were 
 asked. 
 
 One afternoon he encountered a young at- 
 torney from Smethport, who was on his way on 
 horseback to "Williamsport. The youth was car- 
 rying a large sum of money to pay some back 
 taxes on some unseated lands in Lycoming 
 County. He had been fully warned about the 
 highwayman, but laughingly declared that he 
 could take care of himself. In holsters, on his 
 saddle, he carried loaded pistols, and his keen 
 eyes scanned the road with the unconcern of a 
 brave man. But out of the dense hemlocks 
 came the order to throw up his hands. Instead 
 he dug the spurs into his big bay horse's flanks 
 and started down the road at a gallop. As thus 
 far McCoy had never let a person escape, he shot 
 after the fleeing horseman. One of the bullets 
 went through his back, coming out at the breast, 
 but the young lawyer gamely held his place on 
 the saddle, riding on. The hemorrhage was so 
 intense that he welcomed the sight of a house. 
 He drew rein before the cabin of Horatio Nelson, 
 as he did so losing his balance and falling to the
 
 392 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 turf. The woodsman and his good wife rushed 
 forward, and picked up the poor fellow, carrying 
 him tenderly into the house. He had never 
 spoken, and soon lapsed into unconsciousness, 
 dying two hours later. 
 
 Back at the scene of the shooting, the knight of 
 the road became possessed of the feeling that he 
 had killed his man. It was a rash act ; it would 
 put the arm of the law after him so strongly that 
 there would be no escape. He would have to 
 leave the country ; the west always had a fascina- 
 tion for him; he would ask Ava to marry him 
 and they could go to the Mississippi Country and 
 take up a homestead. All these thoughts passed 
 through his head as he walked over the desolate 
 highlands towards his sweetheart's cabin. He 
 strode into the house with utter unconcern, 
 and laughed and joked all through the supper. 
 
 In the evening after Ava had finished her 
 work, he invited her to go with him for a stroll. 
 It was a calm, lovely evening, and the sunset's 
 red rays lingered long above the feathery tips of 
 the old hemlocks. At dusk the whippoorwills 
 commenced their songs, continuing until the 
 moon rose above the forest. Then all was still,
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 393 
 
 save for the occasional lament of a killdeer. Mc- 
 Coy waited until it was time to walk back to the 
 cottage before declaring his love. He told the 
 girl that he had decided to go to the west, where 
 there were greater opportunities, and that he 
 would like her to marry him and go along. He 
 would have departed days before, only he could 
 not go without her. Without waiting for an 
 answer, he caught her in his arms, giving her a 
 tight embrace and many kisses. 
 
 As gently as she could, Ava wrenched herself 
 free and stood facing him in the moonlight. She 
 looked like a spirit, with her white frock and so 
 slim and pale in the moonlight. With a firm 
 voice, she said that while she deeply appreciated 
 his wanting to make her his wife, she could never 
 marry, let alone leave her grandparents. McCoy 
 tried to take her in his arms again, but she 
 backed up against the fence. He tried to explain 
 to her that he would gladly pay the expenses of 
 bringing the old couple to the west, would make 
 them a comfortable home, if only she would 
 marry him. He dared not say that he would 
 marry her and remain in the Black Forest, for
 
 394 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 he knew only too well that the authorities were 
 on his trail. 
 
 But Ava shook her head, and said that it was 
 time for her to be getting to bed. The lover 
 asked her if she cared for him, to which she 
 answered that she did, but not enough to marry 
 him and leave her relatives. 
 
 The bold highwayman was humbled complete' 
 ly, and could not bear the thought of spending 
 the night in the cabin. With a voice full of emo- 
 tion, he bade her good-bye. Taking several gold 
 pieces from his pocket, the proceeds of one of 
 his hold-ups, he handed them to her for the 
 old folks, to pay the balance of his board and 
 lodging. 
 
 "I want to show my appreciation of the kind 
 way in which I have been treated here," he said 
 sadly, as he turned away. He came back after 
 he had taken a few steps, asking the girl to 
 make up a lunch for him, as he would be several 
 days in the forest. To this she gladly assented, 
 and he went with her to the kitchen while she 
 prepared it by the flickering gleams of the rush- 
 light. It was placed in a little oaken basket, 
 which she said that old Seneca White, who was a
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 395 
 
 clever basket-maker, as well as hunter and mu- 
 sician, had fashioned. 
 
 Then he clasped her hand, and left the cabin. 
 The girl watched him while he crossed the foot- 
 log over the run, the moonlight streaming down 
 on him. He was a man of mystery, and she was 
 glad he was going away. Once more in the for- 
 est, McCoy followed the path half way to the top 
 of the mountain, and then left it, and headed in 
 a westerly direction. By morning, he would 
 turn to the north, and get to New York State as 
 directly as possible. There he might climb on the 
 steam railway train unobserved; it would take 
 him to the western country. 
 
 But at daybreak he was filled with an irre- 
 pressable desire to return to Ava's cabin. He 
 found that he could not live without her. He 
 would ask her to marry him, and let him go west 
 and make a home for her. He would live alone 
 until her grandparents died, then she could join 
 him if her sense of duty would not let her go 
 now. He tried to fight against this inclination to 
 return ; his conscience told him that it was a fool- 
 hardy move; surely the sheriff's posse would 
 visit the cabin, and be on his tracks, as they
 
 896 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 would hear of a stranger having been harbored 
 there. 
 
 It was a silly surrender, after making good his 
 escape. But love was stronger than the sense of 
 self-preservation. He turned back. Sometimes 
 his heart was heavy, at other times it was glad ; 
 it seemed as if there were two personalities al- 
 ternately ruling his nature. He traveled slowly, 
 as he did not wish to reach Slate Run before 
 dark. He would come into the creek at its head- 
 waters and slip up as close to the cabin as he 
 could without being observed. If only that dog 
 would not bark. But he had been told that it 
 always barked when a night-prowling bear or 
 wolf came near to the premises. It might not 
 cause a commotion. 
 
 The whippoorwills had ceased their sad songs, 
 and the moon was rising as he neared the spring 
 where this branch of Slate Run had its source. 
 It was a pretty spot, where a jet of clear water as 
 thick as a man's arm gushed from out of the 
 moss-grown rocks. Large stones had been piled 
 up on either side of it for seats. It was an ideal 
 resting place on a summer's day, overhung as it 
 was by giant hemlocks.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 397 
 
 As he neared the spring, he heard voices. 
 Could it be the sheriffs and constables conferring 
 over his escape? He listened intently; it was 
 Ava's voice; he knew it well, and another's, 
 hardly like a man's way of talking, yet not a 
 woman's, so squeaky and so strangely accented. 
 
 In the dead silence he heard distinctly these 
 words from the lips of his beloved: "That 
 stranger wanted to marry me and take me west ; 
 I told him that I could not leave the old folks; 
 in truth, I could not leave you. You are the only 
 love I will ever have. ' ' 
 
 McCoy's heart stood still, and like a ghost he 
 crept nearer to the awful spot. A quavering 
 shaft of moonlight revealed the couple to him. 
 There was the frail, beautiful Ava, clasped in the 
 arms of an ill-favored, undersized Indian, with 
 a fox-like face, and long dark hair hanging 
 about his eyes. 
 
 The rejected lover had an impulse to shoot 
 them both, but he recalled his hasty move the 
 day before when probably his killing a man had 
 made him the fugitive he now was. He put the 
 pistol back in his belt, then took it out again. 
 Creeping close to where the lovers stood, he wait-
 
 398 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 ed until a moonray illumined the scene. Then he 
 fired once, twice ; there were two piercing 
 shrieks, followed by the barking of a dog. Then 
 all was still again, and he hastened up the moun- 
 tain path. On the summit, he turned south, 
 and started towards the bleak upland where 
 the aged yellow pines swayed their knotted 
 branches in the night wind. Bathed in moon- 
 light, they looked like a regiment of ghosts. 
 When he reached the hunter's shanty on the 
 Pike, he loosed his belt of rope, tieing it in a 
 noose about his neck. Then he climbed up in 
 the old yellow pine, which grew back of the hut, 
 straddling one of the branches. He fastened the 
 rope securely about the branch, and dropped off 
 into space. As the noose tightened about his 
 throat, voluntarily or involuntarily, a piercing 
 scream like uttered by his recent victims broke 
 from his lips. It echoed and re-echoed among 
 the pines. Then all was silent, save for the 
 night wind singing with the old pines. All night 
 long the dark figure dangled from the tree, the 
 hands swaying and gesticulating in attitudes al- 
 most alive, the moonlight giving weird, hideous 
 expressions tb the fafefe.
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 Shortly after dawn, an armed body of men re- 
 cruited in Jersey Shore and along the Pike rode 
 close to where the corpse was hanging. One of 
 the horses shied, and that was how it came to be 
 discovered. The posse dismounted, grouping 
 themselves about the frightful effigy. Among 
 the party was a sheriff and coroner, the latter 
 official just having come from the Nelson cabin 
 down the road, where lay the body of the 
 murdered attorney from Smethport, shot in the 
 back. A struck jury was formed, and it was de- 
 cided to bury the suicide at the foot of the tree 
 on which he had hung himself. He was cut 
 down, and his pockets searched. Two hundred 
 dollars in gold and silver coins were discovered, 
 besides various papers, which had belonged to his 
 victims. The highwayman of the Pike had died 
 like a coward because he feared arrest, they all 
 averred, as they buried him in a shallow grave, 
 dug principally with a rusty potato-hook, which 
 they found in the shanty. But the real reason, 
 the heart reason for his death was not known un- 
 til days afterwards, nor his name and identity. 
 
 That autumn when Levi Trexler, the owner of 
 the shack, appeared on the scene with his dogs,
 
 400 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 intent on chasing deer, the savage animals dug 
 up the highwayman's skull. The hunter had 
 heard of the suicide and burial of the outlaw, 
 and laughed when he saw the skull, with the 
 brown chin-beard still growing on it. Like he 
 would do with a catamount's head, he nailed it 
 above the cabin-door. That night he was 
 awakened by a piercing scream, which woke the 
 echoes of the lonely mountain top. He pulled 
 his wolfskin robe over his head, swearing softly 
 in Pennsylvania German. 
 
 The dogs set up such a terrific uproar, that at 
 length his courage returned sufficiently to get 
 out of bed to club them into silence. As he went 
 out of the door, the skull, evidently broken loose 
 by the wind, tumbled down striking him on the 
 top of his bald cranium. With a yell, almost as 
 terrible as the one which had roused him from 
 his slumbers he ran down the road as if pursued 
 by demons, until he fell exhausted in the deep 
 sand. He lay there until morning, when two of 
 his hunting comrades who were on their way to 
 join him at the camp, found him and dragged 
 him to the shack. The visitors picked up the
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 401 
 
 skull, and buried it in the desecrated grave. 
 That night the dogs dug it up again, and once 
 more the piercing scream resounded over the 
 desolate upland. The three hunters were fright- 
 fully alarmed, abandoning the camp at day- 
 break. 
 
 In the depth of winter, during a sudden thaw, 
 a packer's team became mired near the 
 abandoned shanty, and the good fellow deter- 
 mined to spend the night there. In walking 
 around the cabin looking for pine-knots to start 
 a fire he noticed the decaying skull. Picking it 
 up in a spirit of jest, he hung it by one of its eye- 
 sockets on the stump of a broken-off branch of 
 the ancient pine tree. During the night, the man 
 was aroused by a horrible yell, which sent him 
 from his bunk as if hit by a bullet. He ran out 
 of doors, but could see nothing. He sat the re- 
 mainder of the night in his wagon and at day- 
 break forced his team ahead, almost cudgeling 
 the horses to death to get away from the ghastly 
 surroundings. 
 
 In the springtime a party of fishermen decided 
 to spend a night in the hut. They saw the skull
 
 402 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 hooked to the pine tree, and knew the story of 
 the place, but all agreed that they were not 
 afraid. During the night they were put in a 
 state of panic by the horrid scream which had 
 frightened so many others. They decided to 
 leave at the first signs *of dawn, but before doing 
 so, one of the party took the skull and pitched it 
 away as far as he could among the sweet-ferns 
 and huckleberry bushes. 
 
 Some children, belonging to a party of emi- 
 grants, who had stopped at the spring across the 
 Pike from the shack for their mid-day meal, 
 found the skull, and ran laughing with it to their 
 elders. The superstitious Germans ordered the 
 little folks to take it back to where they had 
 found it. Instead of doing so, with childish per- 
 versity, they set it on the door-step of the cabin. 
 There it remained unnoticed until a timber 
 prospector came to .the shanty for the night. 
 
 . * 
 
 With a show of unconcern, he tossed the skull 
 on the shanty roof. At midnight the hideous 
 scream resounded upon his ears ; he sprang from 
 his bunk and ran out, hurrying along the road,
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 403 
 
 puffing and wheezing until daylight eased his 
 fears. 
 
 During the month of November Horatio Nel- 
 son and his wife were going to a corn- 
 husking party to be held at the home of another 
 old settler, William Green, who lived several 
 miles up the Pike. Out of curiosity they stopped 
 to look at the scene of the highwayman's suicide. 
 The good woman with her native intuition 
 noticed the grinning bearded skull resting on the 
 shanty roof. 
 
 "Oh, Horatio," she called, "it's an awful 
 shame to keep that fellow 's head there, arch mur- 
 derer though he may be. Let's give it decent 
 burial. 
 
 The hardy pioneer had promised to loan the 
 Green boys a grubbing hoe, and had it with him, 
 so this was an easy matter. While he was hook- 
 ing the skull down from the roof, the wife 
 noticed the torn-up, dilapidated grave beneath 
 the pine tree. She pointed it out to her husband 
 and told him to dig the grave deeper. The skull 
 and the bones were re-interred in a deep pit, and 
 heavy stones laid over the remains, so that they 
 could not be dug out by dogs or wild animals.
 
 404 
 
 BLACK FOREST SOUVENIRS 
 
 And to this day, although the grave is well 
 known, no more has been heard of the screaming 
 skull.
 
 INDEX 
 
 NAME OF LEGEND LOCALITY TOLD TO COMPILER BY 
 
 I. John Decker 's Centre County, Clearfield John Decker, 
 
 Elk County, Potter County Lewis E. Miller. 21 
 
 II. Why the Senecas Potter County Billy Shongo, 
 
 Would Not Eat Jacob Fenstermaker. 39 
 
 Trout 
 
 III. Young Woman 's Clinton County, Potter William Patterson. 
 
 Creek County 56 
 
 IV. Conquering Fate Potter County, Mifflin W. E. Wagner, 
 
 County J. E. Eamsey, 
 
 Geo. Gast. 77 
 
 V. In the Eafters McKean County Thomas G. Simcox and 
 
 thers. 96 
 
 VI. The Winter of Potter County James Dotigharty, 
 
 the Wolves Sam'l. L. Wallize, 
 
 Mrs. Anna Stabley. 114 
 
 VII. The Three Eivers Potter County Thomas G. Simcox. 136 
 
 VIII. A Story of Ke- Tioga County, Schuylkill Jacob Portzline, 
 
 gina County, Lycoming Thomas G. Simcox. 
 
 County 158 
 
 IX. The Death Shout Clearfield County, Potter Jacob Quiggle. 
 
 County 195 
 
 X. The Healing Clinton County Thomas G. Simcox 
 
 Spring 213 
 
 XL A Hunter's McKean County, Potter James Dougharty, 
 Daughter County C. W. Dickinson, 
 
 P. L. Webster. 231 
 
 XII. The Moment the Clinton County John Q. Dyce. 
 
 Lights Were 
 
 Lit 253 
 
 XIII. Hugh Mitchel- Potter County Geo. Mitcheltree. 
 
 tree 275 
 
 XIV. George Shover's Lycoming Couny, Clin- Charlie Crawford, 
 
 Panther ton County M. Button. 296
 
 XV. The Tramper Potter Couuty D. A. Kohler and others.3I5 
 
 XVI. Little Bed Bid- Lycoming County, Potter Charlie Crawford, 
 
 ing Hood County F. Lanks. 335 
 
 XVII. The Cursed Potter County George Cast. 
 
 Woods ' 367 
 
 XVIII. The Screaming Potter County George Gast, 
 
 Skull H. Shurr. 380 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Illustrations, from photographs by W. T. Clarke, Betula, Pa., frontispiece. 
 
 head, and tail-pieces by Miss Katharine H. McCormick. 
 
 Philadelphia, Pa.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 JAN 3 
 
 1963 
 
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