University of Virginia Library

ANDREW POE.

A most formidable and fearful man was the vanquisher of
"Big-Foot." Every body has heard of the fight between the
huge Wyandott chief and Poe, but, unfortunately, the credit
has always been given to the wrong man. Dr. Doddridge
started the error; and every writer upon western history for
nearly thirty years, has insisted that Adam Poe killed "Big-Foot."
Unwilling to strip the laurel from the brow of any
man, but pledged to do justice to all, and give honor where
honor is due, it now devolves upon us to say that it was not
"Adam" but Andrew Poe who accomplished the wonderful
feat we are about to record.

Of those who settled at an early day on the Ohio, near the
extreme upper corner of Virginia, were two brothers, Andrew
and Adam Poe. They were born near the present town of
Frederick, Maryland, and emigrated to the west in 1774.
Adam was the elder by some five years; he lived to the age of
ninety-three, and died in 1840.

These brothers were "backwoodsmen" in every sense of the
word. They were shrewd, active and courageous, and having
fixed their abodes on the frontier of civilization, determined

to contest inch by inch with the savages, their right to the
soil, and their privilege to live. In appearance they were
tall, muscular and erect, with features indicating great
strength of character. Andrew, in the general contour of
his face, differed somewhat from that of his brother, while the
freshness of his color indicated a better degree of health than
the sallow complexion of the other. Both, however, were
endowed with an unusual degree of strength, and woe to the
man who dared engage in single combat with either. Early
in the fall of 1781, there was an occurrence on the Ohio
which stamped the character of one as a man of no ordinary
make. The place of combat was near the mouth of Tomlinson's
run, and about two miles below Yellow creek. A
few months since we visited the spot, and obtained from a
member of the family the particulars of that celebrated conflict,
which we now give.

During the summer of 1781,[9] the settlements in the region
indicated, suffered not a little from Indian depredation. At
length it was ascertained that a party of six warriors had
crossed the river and committed sundry outrages; among the
rest, killing a defenceless old man in his cabin. The people
became aroused, and it was at once determined to raise a
force and intercept the retreat of the savages.

Eight determined spirits at once volunteered, and placing
themselves under Captain Andrew Poe, as he was then called,
were ready for action in five minutes' notice. Early on the
following morning, they found the trail of the enemy, and
detected among the footprints those of a celebrated chief
called Big-Foot, who was distinguished for his daring, skill,
eloquence, and immense size. He stood, literally, like the
tall man of Tarsus, a head above his peers; for he is said to
have been nearly, or quite seven feet in height, and large in
proportion. The feet of this giant were so large as to gain

for him the name of Big-Foot. Andrew Poe, delighted at
the prospect of testing his strength with so renowned a chief,
urged the pursuit with unabated zeal, until brought within a
short distance of the enemy.

"For the last few miles, the trail had led up the southern
bank of the Ohio, where the footprints in the sand were deep
and obvious; but when within a few hundred yards of the
point at which the Indians were in the habit of crossing, it
suddenly diverged from the stream, and stretched along a
rocky ridge, forming an obtuse angle with its former direction.
Here Andrew halted for a moment, and directed his
brother and the other young men to follow the trail with proper
caution, while he still adhered to the river path, which
led through a cluster of willows directly to the point where
he supposed the enemy to lie. Having examined the priming
of his gun, he crept cautiously through the bushes until he
had a view of the point of embarcation. Here lay two canoes,
empty and apparently deserted. Being satisfied, however,
that the Indians were close at hand, he relaxed nothing of
his vigilance, and quickly gained a jutting cliff, which hung
over the canoes. Hearing a low murmur below, he peered
cautiously over, and beheld the object of his search. The
gigantic Big-Foot lay below him, in the shade of a willow,
and was talking in a low, deep tone to another warrior, who
seemed a mere pigmy by his side. Andrew cautiously drew
back and cocked his gun. The mark was fair, the distance
did not exceed twenty feet, and his aim was unerring. Raising
his rifle slowly and cautiously, he took a steady aim at Big-Foot's
breast, and drew the trigger. His gun flashed. Both
Indians sprung to their feet with a deep interjection of surprise,
and for a single second all three stared upon each
other. This inactivity, however, was soon over. Andrew
was too much hampered by the bushes to retreat, and setting
his life upon the cast of the die, sprung over the bush which
had sheltered him, and summoning all his powers, leaped
boldly down the precipice, and alighted upon the breast of

Big-Foot with a shock which bore him to the earth. At the
moment of contact, Andrew had also thrown his right arm
around the neck of the smaller Indian, so that all three came
to the earth together.

"At that moment, a sharp firing was heard among the
bushes above, announcing that the other parties were engaged,
but the trio below were too busy to attend to anything
but themselves. Big-Foot was for an instant stunned by the
violence of the shock, and Andrew was enabled to keep them
both down. But the exertion necessary for that purpose was
so great, that he had no leisure to use his knife. Big-Foot
quickly recovered, and without attempting to rise, wrapped
his long arms around Andrew's body, and pressed him to his
breast with the crushing force of a boa constrictor! Andrew,
as we have already remarked, was a powerful man, and
had seldom encountered his equal; but never had he yet felt
an embrace like that of Big-Foot. He relaxed his hold of
the small Indian, who sprung to his feet. Big-Foot then
ordered him to run for his tomahawk, which lay within ten
steps, and kill the white man while he held him in his arms.
Andrew, seeing his danger, struggled manfully to extricate
himself from the folds of the giant, but in vain. The lesser
Indian approached with his uplifted tomahawk, but Andrew
watched him closely, and as he was about to strike, gave him
a kick so sudden and violent, as to knock the tomahawk from
his hand, and send him staggering back into the water. Big-Foot
uttered an exclamation in a tone of deep contempt at
the failure of his companion, and raising his voice to its
highest pitch, thundered out several words in the Indian
tongue, which Andrew could not understand, but supposed to
be a direction for a second attack. The lesser Indian now
again approached, carefully shunning Andrew's heels, and
making many motions with his tomahawk, in order to deceive
him as to the point where the blow would fall. This lasted
for several seconds, until a thundering exclamation from Big-Foot
compelled his companion to strike. Such was Andrew's

dexterity and vigilance, however, that he managed to receive
the tomahawk in a glancing direction upon his left wrist,
wounding him deeply, but not disabling him. He now made
a sudden and desperate effort to free himself from the arms
of the giant, and succeeded. Instantly snatching up a rifle,
(for the Indian could not venture to shoot, for fear of hurting
his companion,) he shot the lesser Indian through the
body. But scarcely had he done so, when Big Foot arose,
and placing one hand upon his shoulder, and the other upon
his leg, threw him violently upon the ground. Before his
antagonist could spring upon him, he was again upon his feet,
and stung with rage at the idea of being handled so easily, he
attacked his gigantic antagonist with a fury which, for a time,
compensated for inferiority of strength. It was now a fair
fist fight between them, for in the hurry of the struggle,
neither had leisure to draw their knives. Andrew's superior
activity and experience as a pugilist, gave him great advantage.
The Indian struck awkwardly, and finding himself
rapidly dropping to the leeward, he closed in with his antagonist,
and again hurled him to the ground. They quickly
rolled into the river, and the struggle continued with unabated
fury, each attempting to drown the other. The Indian being
unused to such violent exertion, and having been much injured
by the first shock in his stomach, was unable to exert the
same powers which had given him such a decided superiority
at first—and Andrew seizing him by the scalp-lock, put his
head under water, and held it there, until the faint struggle
of the Indian induced him to believe that he was drowned,
when he relaxed his hold, and attempted to draw his knife.
The Indian, however, to use Andrew's own expression, `had
only been possoming!' He instantly regained his feet, and
in his turn, put his adversary under.

"In the struggle, both were carried out into the current beyond
their depth and each was compelled to relax his hold
and swim for his life. There was still one loaded rifle upon
the shore, and each swam hard in order to reach it, but the

Indian proved the most expert swimmer, and Andrew seeing
that he should be too late, turned and swam out into the stream,
intending to dive and thus frustrate his enemy's intention. At
this instant, Adam having heard that his brother was alone in
a struggle with two Indians, and in great danger, ran up hastily
to the edge of the bank above, in order to assist him. Another
white man followed him closely, and seeing Andrew in the
river, covered with blood, and swimming rapidly from shore,
mistook him for an Indian, and fired upon him, wounding him
dangerously in the left shoulder. Andrew turned, and seeing
his brother called loudly to him to `shoot the Indian upon the
shore.' Adam's gun, however, was empty, having just been
discharged. Fortunately, Big-Foot had also seized the gun
with which Andrew had shot the lesser Indian, so that both
were upon an equality. The contest now was who should beat
loading, the Indian exclaiming, `Who load first, shoot first!'
Big-Foot got his powder down first, but in the excitement of
drawing the ramrod out, it slipped through his fingers and fell
in the river. The noble savage now feeling that all was over,
faced his foe, pulled open the bosom of his shirt, and the next
instant received the ball of his adversary fair in his breast.
Adam alarmed for his brother, who was scarcely able to
swim, threw down his gun and rushed into the river, in order
to bring him ashore—but Andrew more intent upon securing
the scalp of Big-Foot as a trophy, than upon his own safety,
called loudly upon his brother to leave him alone, and scalp
the big Indian, who was endeavoring to roll himself into the
water, from a romantic desire, peculiar to the Indian warrior,
of securing his scalp from the enemy. Adam, however,
refused to obey, and insisted upon saving the living, before
attending to the dead. Big Foot, in the meantime, had succeeded
in reaching the deep water before he expired, and his
body was borne off by the waves, without being stripped of
the ornament and pride of an Indian warrior."

The death of Big-Foot was a severe blow to his tribe, and
is said to have thrown them all into mourning. He was an
able and noble chief, and often rendered signal service to the

whites by reclaiming prisoners from the stake, and otherwise
averting the doom which his tribe seemed determined to visit
upon their captives.

Poe recovered from his wounds, and lived until within about
twenty years. We have recently seen a gentleman, who often
witnessed Poe go through the "fight," and he declares the
scene was the most thrilling he ever beheld. He says the old
man would enter into the spirit of the conflict, and with dilated
pupil, contracted muscle, and almost choaked with
foaming saliva, go through every motion and distinct feature
of that terrible fight. He describes the appearance of these
pantomime exhibitions as most painfully interesting, and declares,
that the old man would be as much exhausted after
the performance as though the scene had been actual.

Andrew Poe was certainly an extraordinary man, and the
impress of his character is still visible in the region where he
lived. An incident is related as occurring shortly before his
death, which strongly marked the character of the man.
Among his cattle, was a fierce and powerful young bull, endangering
the life of any one who went near him. Poe,
however, then a man of advanced age, would visit his stockyard,
regardless of the animal in question, until he supposed
it knew him. On one occasion, the refractory animal made
at Poe, and before he could get out of reach, received a
severe wound from one of its horns. So exasperated was
this singular man, that he went at once to his house, armed
himself with a tomahawk, and, despite the entreaties of his
family, returned to the yard, and driving all the cattle out
but the one alluded to, faced it, and with a menacing scowl,
laid hold of the right horn. The animal plunged, and attempted
to break loose, but Poe held on, and at every favorable opportunity,
struck him with the pipe end of his tomahawk. In
this way, he repeated his blows until finally the animal sunk
dead at his feet.

Mr. Poe, during his whole life, was a most active and useful
man. He lived about one mile from Hookstown, Pa.,
where many of his descendants still reside.