University of Virginia Library

Yours of the 8th instant has just come to
hand, and I with pleasure sit down to answer your request,
which is a statement of my adventure with the Indians. I

will give the narrative as found in my sketch book. I was
born in Westmoreland county, Pennsylvania, February 4th,
1777. When about eight years old, my father, James Johnson,
having a large family to provide for, sold his farm, with
the expectation of acquiring larger possessions further west.
Thus he was stimulated to encounter the perils of a pioneer
life. He crossed the Ohio river, and bought some improvements
on what was called Beach Bottom Flats, two and a
half miles from the river, and three or four miles above the
mouth of Short creek, with the expectation of holding by
improvement right under the Virginia claim. Soon after we
reached there, the Indians became troublesome; they stole
horses, and killed a number of persons in our neighborhood.
When I was between eleven and twelve years old, in the
month of October, 1788, I was taken prisoner by the Indians,
with my brother John, who was about eighteen months older
than I. The circumstances were as follows:—On Saturday
evening, we were out with an older brother, and came home
late in the evening. The next morning one of us had lost a
hat, and about the middle of the day, we thought that perhaps
we had left it where we had been at work, about three-fourths
of a mile from the house. We went to the place and
found the hat, and sat down on a log by the road-side, and
commenced cracking nuts. In a short time we saw two men
coming toward us from the house. By their dress, we supposed
they were two of our neighbors, James Perdue and
J. Russell. We paid but little attention to them, until they
came quite near us, when we saw our mistake; they were
black. To escape by flight was impossible, had we been disposed
to try. We sat still until they came up. One of
them said, "How do, brodder?" My brother asked them if
they were Indians, and they answered in the affirmative, and
said we must go with them. One of them had a blue buckskin
pouch, which we gave my brother to carry, and without
further ceremony, he took up the line of march for the
wilderness, not knowing whether we should ever return to
our cheerful home; and not having much love for our commanding
officers, of course we obeyed orders rather tardily.
The mode of march was thus—one of the Indians walked
about ten steps before, the other about ten behind us. After
travelling some distance, we halted in a deep hollow and sat
down. They took out their knives and whet them, and talked
some time in the Indian tongue, which we could not understand.
My brother and me sat eight or ten steps from them,
and talked about killing them that night, and make our
escape. I thought, from their looks and actions, that they
were going to kill us; and, strange to say, I felt no alarm.
I thought I would rather die than go with them. The most
of my trouble was, that my father and mother would be fretting
after us—not knowing what had become of us. I expressed
my thoughts to John, who went and began to talk
with them. He said that father was cross to him, and made
him work hard, and that he did not like hard work; that he
would rather be a hunter, and live in the woods. This seemed
to please them; for they put up their knives, and talked more
lively and pleasantly. We became very familiar, and many
questions passed between us; all parties were very inquisitive.
They asked my brother which way home was, several
times, and he would tell them the contrary way every time,
although he knew the way very well. This would make them
laugh; they thought we were lost, and that we knew no better.
They conducted us over the Short creek hills in search
of horses, but found none; so we continued on foot until
night, when we halted in a hollow, about three miles from
Carpenter's fort, and about four from the place where they
first took us; our route being somewhat circuitous, we made
but slow progress. As night began to close in, I became
fretful. My brother encouraged me, by whispering that
we would kill them that night. After they had selected
the place of our encampment, one of them scouted round,
whilst the other struck fire, which was done by stopping the
touch-hole of his gun, and flashing powder in the pan. After
the Indian got the fire kindled, he re-primed the gun and
went to an old stump, to get some tinder wood, and while he
was thus employed, my brother John took the gun, cocked it,
and was about to shoot the Indian: alarmed lest the other
might be close by, I remonstrated, and taking hold of the
gun, prevented him shooting; at the same time I begged him
to wait till night, and I would help him kill them both.
The other Indian came back about dark, when we took our
supper, such as it was,—some corn parched on the coals, and
some roasted pork. We then sat and talked for some time.
They seemed to be acquainted with the whole border settlement,
from Marietta to Beaver, and could number every
fort and block-house, and asked my brother how many fighting
men there were in each place, and how many guns. In
some places, my brother said, there were a good many more
guns than there were fighting men. They asked what use
were these guns. He said the women could load while the
men fired. But how did these guns get there? My brother
said, when the war was over with Great Britain, the soldiers
that were enlisted during the war were discharged, and they
left a great many of their guns at the stations. They asked
my brother who owned that black horse that wore a bell? He
answered, father. They then said the Indians could never
catch that horse. We then went to bed on the naked ground,
to rest and study out the best mode of attack. They put us
between them, that they might be the better able to guard us.
After awhile, one of the Indians, supposing we were asleep,
got up and stretched himself on the other side of the fire, and
soon began to snore. John, who had been watching every
motion, found they were sound asleep. He whispered to me
to get up, which we did as carefully as possible. John took
the gun with which the Indian had struck fire, cocked it, and
placed it in the direction of the head of one of the Indians.
He then took a tomahawk, and drew it over the head of the
other Indian. I pulled the trigger, and he struck at the same
instant; the blow falling too far back on the neck, only
stunned the Indian. He attempted to spring to his feet,
uttering most hideous yells, but my brother repeated the
blows with such effect that the conflict became terrible, and
somewhat doubtful. The Indian, however, was forced to
yield to the blows he received on his head, and in a short
time he lay quiet at our feet. The one that was shot never
moved; and fearing there were others close by, we hurried
off, and took nothing with us but the gun I shot with. They
had told us we would see Indians about to-morrow, so we
thought that there was a camp of Indians close by; and fearing
the report of the gun, the Indian hallooing, and I calling
to John, might bring them upon us, we took our course
towards the river, and on going about three-fourths of a mile,
came to a path which led to Carpenter's fort. My brother
here hung up his hat, that he might know where to take
off to find the camp. We got to the fort a little before daybreak.
We related our adventure, and the next day a small
party went out with my brother, and found the Indian that
was tomahawked, on the ground; the other had crawled off,
and was not found till some time after. He was shot through
close by the ear. Having concluded this narrative, I will give
a description of the two Indians. They were of the Delaware
tribe, and one of them a chief. He wore the badges of his
office—the wampum belt, three half-moons, and a silver plate
on his breast; bands of silver on both arms, and his ears cut
round and ornamented with silver; the hair on the top of his
head was done up with silver wire. The other Indian seemed
to be a kind of waiter. He was rather under size, a plain
man. He wore a fine beaver hat, with a hole shot through
the crown. My brother asked him about the hat. He said
he killed a captain and got his hat. My brother asked him
if he had killed many of the whites, and he answered, a good
many. He then asked him if the big Indian had killed many
of the whites, and he answered, a great many, and that he
was a great captain—a chief. * * * * *