University of Virginia Library

[302] CHAPTER XVIII.

Neither the signal success of the expedition under
General Scott, nor the preparations which were being
made by the general government, for the more rigorous
prosecution of the war against them, caused the Indians
to relax their exertions to harrass the frontier inhabitants.
The ease with which they had overcome the two armies
sent against them under Harmar and St. Clair, inspired
them with contempt for our troops, and induced a belief
of their own invincibility, if practising the vigilance
necessary to guard against a surprise. To the want of
this vigilance, they ascribed the success of Gen. Scott;
and deeming it necessary only to exercise greater precaution
to avoid similar results, they guarded more diligently
the passes into their country, while discursive
parties of their warriors would perpetrate their accustomed
acts of aggression upon the persons and property
of the whites.

About the middle of May, 1792, a party of savages
came upon a branch of Hacker's creek, and approaching
late in the evening a field recently cleared by John Waggoner,
found him seated on a log, resting himself after the
labors of the day. In this company of Indians was the
since justly celebrated General Tecumseh, who leaving
his companions to make sure of those in the house, placed
his gun on the fence and fired deliberately at Waggoner.
The leaden messenger of death failed of its errand, and
passing through the sleeve of his shirt, left Waggoner uninjured,
to try his speed with the Indian. Taking a direction
opposite the house, to avoid coming in contact
with the savages there, he outstripped his pursuer, and got
safely off.

[303] In the mean time, those who had been left to
operate against those of the family who were at the house,
finding a small boy in the yard, killed and scalped him;

and proceeding on, made prisoners of Mrs. Waggoner and
her six children, and departed immediately with them, lest
the escape of her husband, should lead to their instant
pursuit. They were disappointed in this expectation. A
company of men was soon collected, who repaired to the
then desolate mansion, and from thence followed on the
trail of the savages. About a mile from the house, one of
the children was found where its brains had been beaten
out with a club, and the scalp torn from its head. A small
distance farther, lay Mrs. Waggoner and two others of her
children,—their lifeless bodies mangled in the most barbarous
and shocking manner. Having thus freed themselves
from the principal impediments to a rapid retreat,
the savages hastened on; and the pursuit was unavailing.
They reached their towns with the remaining prisoners—
two girls and a boy—and avoided chastisement for the outrage.
The elder of the two girls did not long remain with
them; but escaping to the neighborhood of Detroit with
another female prisoner, continued there until after the
treaty of 1795. Her sister abided with her captors 'till the
close of the war; and the boy until during the war of
1812. He was then seen among some friendly Indians,
and bearing a strong resemblance in features to his father,
was recognized as Waggoner's captive son. He had married
a squaw, by whom he had several children, was attached
to his manner of life, and for a time resisted every
importunity, to withdraw himself from among them.
When his father visited him, it was with difficulty he was
enticed to return to the haunts of his childhood, and the
associates of his younger days, even on a temporary visit.
When however he did return to them, the attention and
kindly conduct of his friends, prevailed with him to remain,
until he married and took up his permanent abode
amid the habitations of civilized men. Still with the feelings
natural to a father, his heart yearns towards his children
in the forest; and at times he seems to lament that
he ever forsook them.[1]

In the summer of this year, a parcel of horses were
taken from the West Fork, and the Indians who had
stolen them, being discovered as they were retiring, they
were pursued by Captain Coburn, who was stationed at

the mouth of Little [304] Kenhawa with a party of men
as scouts. Following them across the Ohio river, he
overtook them some distance in the Indian country, and
retaking the horses, returned to his station. Hitherto
property recovered from the savages, had been invariably
restored to those from whom it had been stolen; but on
the present occasion a different course was pursued. Contending
that they received compensation for services rendered
by them in Virginia, and were not bound to treat
without its limits in pursuit of the savages or to retake
the property of which they had divested its rightful owners,
they claimed the horses as plunder taken from the
Indians, sold them, and divided the proceeds of sale
among themselves—much to the dissatisfaction of those
from whom the savages had taken them.[2]

In the course of the ensuing fall, Henry Neal, William
Triplett and Daniel Rowell, from Neal's station ascended
the Little Kenhawa in canoes to the mouth of the Burning
Spring run, from whence they proceeded on a Buffoloe
hunt in the adjoining woods. But they had been seen as
they plied their canoes up the river, by a party of Indians,
who no sooner saw them placed in a situation favoring the
bloody purposes of their hearts, than they fired upon them.
Neal and Triplett were killed, and fell into the river.—
Rowell was missed and escaped by swimming the Kenhawa,
the Indians shooting at him as he swam. In a few days

after the dead were found in a ripple and buried. The
Indians had not been able to draw them from their watery
grave, and obtain their scalps.

During this year unsuccessful attempts were made by
the general government, to terminate Indian hostilities by
negotiation. They were too much elated with their recent
success, to think of burying their resentments in a treaty
of peace; and so little did they fear the operation of the
governmental forces, and such was their confidence in
their own strength, that they not only refused to negotiate
at all, but put to death two of those who were sent
to them as messengers of peace. Major Truman and Col.
Hardin, severally sent upon this mission, were murdered
by them; and when commissioners to treat with them,
were received by them, their only answer was, a positive
refusal to enter into a treaty.[3]

When this determination was made known to the
President, every precaution which could be used, was taken
by him to prevent the recurrence of these enormities
which were daily committed on the [305] frontier, and
particularly in the new state of Kentucky. Gen. St. Clair,
after having asked that a court of enquiry should be held,
to consider of his conduct in the campaign of 1791, and
finding that his request could not be granted, resigned the
command of the army, and was succeeded by Gen. Anthony
Wayne. That the operations of the army might not be

defeated as heretofore, by a too great reliance on undisciplined
militia, it was recommended to Congress to authorize
the raising of three additional regiments of regular
soldiers; and the bill for complying with this recommendation,
notwithstanding it was strenuously opposed by a
stong party hostile to the then administration, was finally
passed.[4]

The forts Hamilton and Jefferson, erected by Gen.
St. Clair, continued to be well garrisoned; but there was
some difficulty in supplying them with provisions—the Indians
being always in readiness to intercept them on their
way. As early as April 1792, they taught us the necessity
of having a strong guard to escort supplies with safety,
by a successful attack on Major Adair; who with one
hundred and twenty volunteers from Kentucky, had
charge of a number of pack horses laden with provisions.
He was engaged by a body of savages, not much superior
in number, and although he was under cover of Fort St.
Clair, yet did they drive him into the fort, and carry off
the provisions and pack horses. The courage and bold
daring of the Indians, was eminently conspicuous on this
occasion. They fought with nearly equal numbers,
against a body of troops, better tutored in the science of
open warfare, well mounted and equipped, armed with
every necessary weapon, and almost under the guns of the
fort. And they fought successfully,—killing one captain
and ten privates, wounding several, and taking property
estimated to be worth fifteen thousand dollars. Nothing
seemed to abate their ardor for war. Neither the strong
garrisons placed in the forts erected so far in advance of
the settlements, nor the great preparations which were
making for striking an effectual blow at them, caused them

for an instant to slacken in hostilities, or check their
movements against the frontier.

In the spring of 1793, a party of warriors proceeding
towards the head waters of the Monongahela river, discovered
a marked way, leading a direction which they did
not know to be inhabited by whites. It led to a settlement
which had been recently made on Elk river, by Jeremiah
and Benjamin Carpenter and a few others from Bath
county, and who had been particularly careful to make
nor leave any path which might lead to a discovery of their
situation, but Adam O'Brien moving into the same section
of country in the spring of 1792, and being rather an indifferent
woodsman, incautiously blazed the trees in
several directions so as to enable him readily to find his
home, when business or pleasure should have drawn him
from it. It was upon one of these marked traces that the
Indians chanced to fall; and pursuing it, came to the deserted
cabin of [306] O'Brien: he having returned to the
interior, because of his not making a sufficiency of
grain for the subsistence of his family. Proceeding from
O'Brien's, they came to the House of Benjamin Carpenter,
whom they found alone and killed. Mrs. Carpenter
being discovered by them, before she was aware of their
presence, was tomahawked and scalped, a small distance
from the yard.

The burning of Benjamin Carpenter's house, led to a
discovery of these outrages; and the remaining inhabitants
of that neighborhood, remote from any fort or populous
settlement to which they could fly for security, retired
to the mountains and remained for several days concealed
in a cave. They then caught their horses and moved their
families to the West Fork; and when they visited the
places of their former habitancy for the purpose of collecting
their stock and carrying it off with their other property,
scarce a vestige of them was to be seen,—the Indians
had been there after they left the cave, and burned the
houses, pillaged their movable property, and destroyed the
cattle and hogs.

Among the few interesting incidents which occurred
in the upper country, during this year, was the captivity

and remarkable escape of two brothers, John and Henry
Johnson:—the former thirteen, the latter eleven years of
age. They lived at a station on the west side of the Ohio
river near above Indian Short creek; and being at some
distance from the house, engaged in the sportive amusements
of youth, became fatigued and seated themselves on
an old log for the purpose of resting. They presently
observed two men coming towards them, whom they
believed to be white men from the station until they approached
so close as to leave no prospect of escape by
flight, when to their great grief they saw that two Indians
were beside them. They were made prisoners, and taken
about four miles, when after partaking of some roasted
meat and parched corn given them by their captors, they
were arranged for the night, by being placed between the
two Indians and each encircled in the arms of the one
next him.

Henry, the younger of the brothers, had grieved much
at the idea of being carried off by the Indians, and during
his short but sorrowful journey across the hills, had wept
immoderately. John had in vain endeavored to comfort
him with the hope that they should be enabled to elude
the vigilence of the savages, and to return to the hearth of
their parents and brethren. He refused to be comforted.—
The ugly red man, with his tomahawk and scalping knife,
which had been often called in to quiet the cries of his infancy,
was now actually before him; and every scene of
torture and of torment which had been depicted, by narration,
to his youthful eye, was now present to his terrified
imagination, hightened by the thought that they were
about to be re-enacted on himself. In anticipation of this
horrid doom for some time he wept in bitterness and affliction;
but

When the fire was kindled at night, the supper prepared
and offered to him, all idea of his future fate was merged

in their present kindness; and Henry soon sunk to sleep,
though enclosed in horrid hug, by savage arms.

It was different with John. He felt the reality of
their situation.—He was alive to the anguish which he
knew would agitate the bosom of his mother, and he
thought over the means of allaying it so intensely, that
sleep was banished from his eyes. Finding the others all
locked in deep repose, he disengaged himself from the embrace
of the savage at his side, and walked to the fire. To
test the soundness of their sleep, he rekindled the dying
blaze, and moved freely about it. All remained still and
motionless,—no suppressed breathing, betrayed a feigned
repose. He gently twitched the sleeping Henry, and
whispering softly in his ear, bade him get up. Henry
obeyed, and they both stood by the fire. "I think, said
John, we had better go home now." "Oh! replied Henry,
they will follow and catch us again." "Never fear that,
rejoined John, we'll kill them before we go." The idea
was for some time opposed by Henry; but when he beheld
the savages so soundly asleep, and listened to his brother's
plan of executing his wish, he finally consented to act the
part prescribed him.

The only gun which the Indians had, was resting
against a tree, at the foot of which lay their tomahawks.
John placed it on a log, with the muzzle near to the head of
one of the savages; cocked it, and leaving Henry with his
finger to the trigger, ready to pull upon the signal being
given, he repaired to his own station. Holding in his
hand one of their tomahawks, he stood astride of the other
Indian, and as he raised his arm to deal death to the sleeping
savage, Henry fired, and shooting off the lower part of
the Indian's jaw, called to his brother, "lay on, for I've done
for this one," seized up the gun and ran off. The first blow
of the tomahawk took effect on the back of the neck, and
was not fatal. The Indian attempted to spring up; but
John repeated his strokes with such force and so quickly,
that he soon brought him again to the ground; and leaving
him dead proceeded on after his brother.

They presently came to a path which they recollected
to have travelled, the preceding evening, and keeping

along it, arrived at the station awhile before day. The inhabitants
were however, all up and in much uneasiness for
the fate of the boys; and when they came near and heard
a well known voice exclaim in accents of deep distress,
"Poor little fellows, they are killed or taken prisoners," John
replied aloud,—"No mother, we are here again."

When the tale of their captivity, and the means by
which their deliverance was effected, were told, they did
not obtain full credence. [308] Piqued at the doubts expressed
by some, John observed, "you had better go and
see." "But, can you again find the spot," said one.
"Yes, replied he, I hung my hat up at the turning out
place and can soon shew you the spot." Accompanied by
several of the men, John returned to the theatre of his daring
exploits; and the truth of his statement received ample
confirmation. The savage who had been tomahawked
was lying dead by the fire—the other had crawled some
distance; but was tracked by his blood until found, when
it was agreed to leave him, "as he must die at any rate."

Companies of rangers had been for several seasons
stationed on the Ohio river, for the greater security of the
persons and property of those who resided on and near the
frontier. During this year a company which had been stastationed
at the mouth of Fishing creek,[5] and had remained
there until its term of service had expired, determined
then on a scout into the Indian country; and
crossing the river, marched on for some days before they
saw any thing which indicated their nearness to Indians.
Pursuing a path which seemed to be much used, they came
in view of an Indian camp, and observing another path,
which likewise seemed to be much frequented, Ensign
Levi Morgan was sent with a detachment of the men, to
see if it would conduct them to where were others of the
Indians, who soon returned with the information that he
had seen another of their encampments close by. Upon
the receipt of this intelligence, the Lieutenant was sent

forward with a party of men to attack the second encampment,
while the Captain with the residue of the company
should proceed against that which had been first discovered,
and commence an assault on it, when he should hear
the firing of the Lieutenant's party at the camp which he
was sent to assail.

When the second camp was approached and the men
posted at intervals around it, awaiting the light of day to
begin the assault, the Lieutenant discovered that there was
a greater force of Indians with whom he would have to
contend than was expected, and prudently resolved to
withdraw his men without coming into collision with
them. Orders for this movement were directly given, and
the party immediately retired. There was however, one
of the detachment, who had been posted some small distance
in advance of the others with directions to fire as
soon as the Indians should be seen stirring, and who, unapprized
of the withdrawal of the others, [309] maintained
his station, until he observed a squaw issuing from a camp,
when he fired at her and rushed up, expecting to be supported
by his comrades. He fell into the hands of those
whom he had thus assailed; but his fate was far different
from what he had every reason to suppose it would be,
under those circumstances. It was the hunting camp of
Isaac Zane, and the female at whom he had shot was the
daughter of Zane; the ball had slightly wounded her in
the wrist. Her father, although he had been with the Indians
ever since his captivity when only nine years of age,
had not yet acquired the ferocious and vindictive passions
of those with whom he had associated; but practising the
forbearance and forgiveness of christian and civilized man,
generously conducted the wanton assailant so far upon his
way, that he was enabled though alone to reach the settlement
in safety. His fate was different from that of those,
who had been taken prisoners by that part of the company
which remained at the first camp with the Captain.
When the Lieutenant with the detachment, rejoined the
others, disappointment at the failure of the expedition
under him, led some of the men to fall upon the Indian
prisoners and inhumanly murder them.

Notwithstanding that preparations for an active campaign
against the savages was fast ripening to their perfection,
and that the troops of the general government
had penetrated as far as to the field, on which had been
fought the fatal battle of the fourth of November, 1791,
and erected there Fort Recovery,[6] yet did they not cease
from their accustomed inroads upon the settlements, even
after the winter of 1793.—In March 1794, a party of them
crossed the Ohio river, and as they were advancing towards
the settlements on the upper branches of the Monongahela,
met with Joseph Cox, then on his way to the mouth of
Leading creek on Little Kenhawa, for a load of furs and
skins which he had left there, at the close of his hunt the
preceding fall. Cox very unexpectedly met them in a
narrow pass, and instantly wheeled his horse to ride off.
Endeavoring to stimulate the horse to greater speed by
the application of the whip, the animal became stubborn
and refused to go at all, when Cox was forced to dismount
and seek safety on foot. His pursuers gained rapidly upon
him, and he saw that one of them would soon overtake
him. He faced the savage who was near, and raised his
gun to fire; but nothing daunted, the Indian rushed forward.
Cox's gun [310] missed fire, and he was instantly a
prisoner. He was taken to their towns and detained in
captivity for some time; but at length made his escape,
and returned safely to the settlement.

On the 24th of July, six Indians visited the West
Fork river, and at the mouth of Freeman's creek, met
with, and made prisoner, a daughter of John Runyan.
She was taken off by two of the party of savages, but did
not go more than ten or twelve miles, before she was put
to death. The four Indians who remained, proceeded
down the river and on the next day came to the house of
William Carder, near below the mouth of Hacker's creek.
Mr. Carder discovered them approaching, in time to fasten
his door; but in the confusion of the minute, shut out two

of his children, who however ran off unperceived by the
savages and arrived in safety at the house of a neighbor.
He then commenced firing and hallooing, so as to alarm
those who were near and intimidate the Indians. Both
objects were accomplished. The Indians contented themselves
with shooting at the cattle, and then retreated; and
Mr. Joseph Chevront, who lived hardby, hearing the report
of the guns and the loud cries of Carder, sent his own
family to a place of safety, and with nobleness of purpose,
ran to the relief of his neighbor. He enabled Carder to remove
his family to a place of greater security, although
the enemy were yet near, and engaged in skinning one of
the cattle that they might take with them a supply of
meat. On the next day a company of men assembled, and
went in pursuit; but they could not trail the savages far,
because of the great caution with which they had retreated,
and returned without accomplishing any thing.

Two days afterward, when it was believed that the Indians
had left the neighborhood, they came on Hacker's
creek near to the farm of Jacob Cozad, and finding four
of his sons bathing, took three of them prisoners, and
killed the fourth, by repeatedly stabbing him with a bayonet
attached to a staff. The boys, of whom they made
prisoners, were immediately taken to the Indian towns and
kept in captivity until the treaty of Greenville in 1795.
Two of them were then delivered up to their father, who
attended to enquire for them,—the third was not heard of
for some time after, but was at length found at Sandusky,
by his elder brother and brought home.

After the victory obtained by General Wayne over
the Indians, [311] Jacob Cozad, Jr. was doomed to be
burned to death, in revenge of the loss then sustained by
the savages. Every preparation for carrying into execution
this dreadful determination was quickly made. The
wood was piled, the intended victim was apprized of his
approaching fate, and before the flaming torch was applied
to the faggots, he was told to take leave of those who were
assembled to witness the awful spectacle. The croud was
great, and the unhappy youth could with difficulty press
his way through them. Amid the jeers and taunts of those

whom he would address, he was proceeding to discharge
the last sad act of his life, when a female, whose countenance
beamed with benignity, beckoned him to follow her.
He did not hesitate. He approached as if to bid her farewell,
and she succeeded in taking him off unobserved by
the many eyes gazing around, and concealed him in a wigwam
among some trunks and covered loosely with a
blanket. He was presently missed, and a search immediately
made for him. Many passed near in quest of the
devoted victim, and he could hear their steps and note
their disappointment. After awhile the uproar ceased,
and he felt more confident of security. In a few minutes
more he heard approaching footsteps and felt that the
blanket was removed from him. He turned to surrender
himself to his pursuers, and meet a dreadful death.—But
no! they were two of his master's sons who had been directed
where to find him, and they conducted him securely
to the Old Delaware town, where he remained until carried
to camp upon the conclusion of a treaty of peace.[7]

In a short time after the happening of the events at
Cozad's, a party of Indians made an irruption upon Tygart's
Valley. For some time the inhabitants of that settlement
had enjoyed a most fortunate exemption from
savage molestation; and although they had somewhat relaxed
in vigilance, they did not however omit to pursue a
course calculated to ensure a continuance of their tranquillity
and repose. Instead of flying for security, as they
had formerly, to the neighboring forts upon the return of
spring, the increase of population and the increased capacity
of the communion to repel aggression, caused them
to neglect other acts of precaution, and only to assemble

at particular houses, when danger was believed to be instant
and at hand. In consequence of the reports which
reached them of the injuries lately committed by the
[312] savages upon the West Fork, several families collected
at the house of Mr. Joseph Canaan for mutual security,
and while thus assembled, were visited by a party
of Indians, when perfectly unprepared for resistance. The
savages entered the house awhile after dark, and approaching
the bed on which Mr. Canaan was lolling, one of them
addressed him with the familiarity of an old acquaintance
and saying "how d'ye do, how d'ye do," presented his
hand. Mr. Canaan was rising to reciprocate the greeting,
when he was pierced by a ball discharged at him from
another savage, and fell dead. The report of the gun at
once told, who were the visitors, and put them upon using
immediate exertions to effect their safety by flight. A
young man who was near when Canaan was shot, aimed
at the murderer a blow with a drawing knife, which took
effect on the head of the savage and brought him to the
ground. Ralston then escaped through the door, and fled
in safety, although fired at as he fled.

When the Indians entered the house, there was a Mrs.
Ward sitting in the room. So soon as she observed that
the intruders were savages, she passed into another apartment
with two of the children, and going out with them
through a window, got safely away. Mr. Lewis (brother
to Mrs. Canaan) likewise escaped from a back room, in
which he had been asleep at the firing of the gun. Three
children were tomahawked and scalped,—Mrs. Canaan
made prisoner, and the savages withdrew. The severe
wound inflicted on the head of the Indian by Ralston,
made it necessary that they should delay their return to
their towns, until his recovery; and they accordingly remained
near the head of the middle fork of Buchannon,
for several weeks. Their extreme caution in travelling,
rendered any attempt to discover them unavailing; and
when their companion was restored they proceeded on,
uninterruptedly. On the close of the war, Mrs. Canaan
was redeemed from captivity by a brother from Brunswick,
in New Jersey, and restored to her surviving friends.

Thus far in the year 1794, the army of the United
States had not been organised for efficient operations. Gen.
Wayne had been actively employed in the discharge of
every preparatory duty devolving on him; and those
distinguishing characteristics of uncommon daring and
bravery, which had acquired for him the appellation of
"Mad Anthony," and which [313] so eminently fitted him
for the command of an army warring against savages,
gave promise of success to his arms.

Before the troops marched from Fort Washington, it
was deemed advisable to have an abundant supply of provisions
in the different forts in advance of this, as well for
the supply of their respective garrisons, as for the subsistence
of the general army, in the event of its being
driven into them, by untoward circumstances. With this
view, three hundred pack-horses, laden with flour, were
sent on to Fort Recovery; and, as it was known that considerable
bodies of the enemy were constantly hovering
about the forts, and awaiting opportunities of cutting off
any detachments from the main army, Major McMahon,
with eighty riflemen under Capt. Hartshorn, and fifty
dragoons, under Capt. Taylor, was ordered on as an escort.
This force was too great to justify the savages in
making an attack, until they could unite the many war
parties which were near; and before this could be effected,
Major McMahon reached his destination.

On the 30th of July,[8] as the escort was about leaving
Fort Recovery, it was attacked by an army of one thousand
Indians, in the immediate vicinity of the fort. Captain
Hartshorn had advanced only three or four hundred
yards, at the head of the riflemen, when he was unexpectedly
beset on every side. With the most consummate
bravery and good conduct, he maintained the unequal conflict,
until Major McMahon, placing himself at the head
of the cavalry, charged upon the enemy, and was repulsed
with considerable loss. Maj. McMahon, Capt. Taylor and
Cornet Terry fell upon the first onset, and many of the
privates were killed or wounded. The whole savage force

being now brought to press on Capt. Hartshorn, that brave
officer was forced to try and regain the Fort, but the
enemy interposed its strength, to prevent this movement.
Lieutenant Drake and Ensign Dodd, with twenty volunteers,
marched from Fort Recovery and forcing a passage
through a column of the enemy at the point of the bayonet,
joined the rifle corps, at the instant that Capt. Hartshorn
received a shot which broke his thigh. Lieut. Craig
being killed and Lieut. Marks taken prisoner, Lieut. Drake
conducted the retreat; and while endeavoring for an instant
to hold the enemy in check, so as to enable the soldiers
to bring off their wounded captain, himself received
a shot in the groin, and the retreat was resumed, leaving
Capt. Hartshorn on the field.

[314] When the remnant of the troops came within the
walls of the Fort, Lieut. Michael, who had been early detached
by Capt. Hartshorn to the flank of the enemy, was
found to be missing, and was given up as lost. But while
his friends were deploring his unfortunate fate, he and
Lieut. Marks, who had been early taken prisoner, were
seen rushing through the enemy, from opposite directions
towards the Fort. They gained it safely, notwithstanding
they were actively pursued, and many shots fired at them.
Lieut. Marks had got off by knocking down the Indian
who held him prisoner; and Lieut. Michael had lost all
of his party, but three men. The entire loss of the Americans
was twenty-three killed, and forty wounded.[9] The
riflemen brought in ten scalps which were taken early in
the action; beyond this the enemy's loss was never ascertained.
Many of them were no doubt killed and wounded,
as they advanced in solid columns up to the very muzzles
of the guns, and were afterwards seen carrying off many
of their warriors on pack horses.

At length Gen. Wayne put the army over which he had
been given the command, in motion;[10] and upon its arrival
at the confluence of the Au Glaize and the Miami of the

Lakes, another effort was made for the attainment of
peace, without the effusion of blood. Commissioners were
sent forward to the Indians to effect this desirable object;
who exhorted them to listen to their propositions for terminating
the war, and no longer to be deluded by the
counsels of white emissaries, who had not the power to afford
them protection; but only sought to involve the
frontier of the United States in a war, from which much
evil, but no good could possibly result to either party.
The savages however felt confident that success would
again attend their arms, and deriving additional incentives
to war from their proximity to the British fort, recently
erected at the foot of the rapids, declined the overture for
peace, and seemed ardently to desire the battle, which
they knew must soon be fought.

The Indian army at this time, amounted to about two
thousand warriors, and when reconnoitered on the 19th of
August were found encamped in a thick bushy wood and
near to the British Fort. The army of Gen. Wayne was
equal in numbers to that of the enemy; and when on the
morning of the 20th, it took up the line of march, the
troops were so disposed as to avoid being surprised, and to
come into action on the [315] shortest notice, and under
the most favorable circumstances. A select battalion of
mounted volunteers, commanded by Major Price, moving
in advance of the main army, had proceeded but a few
miles, when a fire so severe was aimed at it by the savages
concealed, as usual, that it was forced to fall back. The
enemy had chosen their ground with great judgment, taking
a position behind the fallen timber,[11] which had been
prostrated by a tornado, and in a woods so thick as to
render it impracticable for the cavalry to act with effect.
They were formed into three regular lines, much extended
in front, within supporting distance of each other, and
reaching about two miles; and their first effort was to turn
the left flank of the American army.

Gen. Wayne ordered the first line of his army to advance
with trailed arms, to rouse the enemy from their

covert at the point of the bayonet, and when up to deliver
a close and well directed fire, to be followed by a charge
so brisk as not to allow them time to reload or form their
lines. The second line was ordered to the support of the
first; and Capt. Campbell at the head of the cavalry, and
Gen. Scott at the head of the mounted volunteers were
sent forward to turn the left and right wings of the enemy.
All these complicated orders were promptly executed; but
such was the impetuosity of the charge made by the first
line of infantry, so completely and entirely was the enemy
broken by it, and so rapid the pursuit, that only a small
part of the second line and of the mounted volunteers
were in time to participate in the action, notwithstanding
the great exertions of their respective officers to co-operate
in the engagement; and in less than one hour, the savages
were driven more than two miles and within gunshot of
the British Fort, by less than one half their numbers.

Gen. Wayne remained three days on the banks of the
Miami, in front of the field of battle left to the full and
quiet possession of his army, by the flight and dispersion
of the savages. In this time, all the houses and cornfields,
both above and below the British Fort, and among the
rest, the houses and stores of Col. McKee,[12] an English
trader of great influence among the Indians and which
had been invariably exerted to prolong the war, were consumed
by fire or otherwise entirely destroyed. On the
27th, the American army returned to its head quarters,
laying waste the cornfields and villages on each side of the
river for about fifty miles; and [316] this too in the most
populous and best improved part of the Indian country.

The loss sustained by the American army, in obtaining
this brilliant victory, over a savage enemy flushed with
former successes, amounted to thirty-three killed and one
hundred wounded:[13] that of the enemy was never ascertained.
In his official account of the action, Gen. Wayne
says, "The woods were strewed for a considerable distance,

with the dead bodies of the Indians and their white auxiliaries;"
and at a council held a few days after, when
British agents endeavored to prevail on them to risk
another engagement, they expressed a determination to
"bury the bloody hatchet" saying, that they had just lost
more than two hundred of their warriors.

Some events occurred during this engagement, which
are deemed worthy of being recorded here, although not
of general interest. While Capt. Campbell was engaged
in turning the left-flank, of the enemy, three of them
plunged into the river, and endeavored to escape the fury
of the conflict, by swimming to the opposite shore. They
were seen by two negroes, who were on the bank to which
the Indians were aiming, and who concealed themselves
behind a log for the purpose of intercepting them. When
within shooting distance one of the negroes fired and
killed one of the Indians. The other two took hold of
him to drag him to shore, when one of them was killed,
by the fire of the other negro. The remaining Indian, being
now in shoal water, endeavored to draw both the dead
to the bank; but before he could effect this, the negro who
had first fired, had reloaded, and again discharging his gun,
killed him also, and the three floated down the river.

Another circumstance is related, which shows the obstinacy
with which the contest was maintained by individuals
in both armies. A soldier and an Indian came in
collision, the one having an unloaded gun,—the other a
tomahawk. After the action was over, they were both
found dead; the soldier with his bayonet in the body of
the Indian,—and the Indian with his tomahawk in the
head of the soldier.

Notwithstanding the signal victory, obtained by General
Wayne over the Indians, yet did their hostility to the
whites lead them to acts of occasional violence, and kept
them for some time from acceding to the proposals for
peace. In [317] consequence of this, their whole country
was laid waste, and forts erected in the hearts of their settlements
at once to starve and awe them into quiet. The
desired effect was produced. Their crops being laid waste,
their villages burned, fortresses erected in various parts of

their country and kept well garrisoned, and a victorious
army ready to bear down upon them at any instant, there
was no alternative left them but to sue for peace. When
the Shawanees made known their wish to bury the bloody
hatchet, Gen. Wayne refused to treat singly with them, and
declared that all the different tribes of the North Western
Indians should be parties to any treaty which he should
make. This required some time as they had been much
dispersed after the defeat of the 20th of August, and the
great devastation committed on their crops and provisions
by the American army, had driven many to the woods, to
procure a precarious subsistence by hunting. Still however,
to such abject want and wretchedness were they
reduced, that exertions were immediately made to collect
them in general council; and as this was the work of some
time, it was not effected until midsummer of 1795.

In this interval of time, there was but a solitary interruption,
caused by savage aggression, to the general repose
and quiet of North Western Virginia; and that
interruption occurred in a settlement which had been
exempt from invasion since the year 1782. In the summer
of 1795, the trail of a large party of Indians was
discovered on Leading creek, and proceeding directly towards
the settlements on the head of the West Fork,
those on Buchannon river, or in Tygart's Valley. In
consequence of the uncertainty against which of them,
the savages would direct their operations, intelligence of
the discovery which had been made, was sent by express
to all; and measures, to guard against the happening of
any unpleasant result, were taken by all, save the inhabitants
on Buchannon. They had so long been exempt
from the murderous incursions of the savages, while other
settlements not remote from them, were yearly deluged
with blood, that a false security was engendered, in the
issue, fatal to the lives and happiness of some of them, by
causing them to neglect the use of such precautionary
means, as would warn them of the near approach of danger,
and ward it when it came.

Pursuing their usual avocations in despite of the
warning which had been given them, on the day after the

express had [318] sounded an alarm among them, as John
Bozarth, sen. and his sons George and John were busied
in drawing grain from the field to the barn, the agonizing
shrieks of those at the house rent the air around them;
and they hastened to ascertain, and if practicable avert
the cause. The elasticity of youth enabled George to approach
the house some few paces in advance of his father,
but the practised eye of the old gentleman, first discovered
an Indian, only a small distance from his son, and with
his gun raised to fire upon him. With parental solicitude
he exclaimed, "See George, an Indian is going to shoot
you." George was then too near the savage, to think of
escaping by flight. He looked at him steadily, and when
he supposed the fatal aim was taken and the finger just
pressing on the trigger, he fell, and the ball whistled by
him. Not doubting but that the youth had fallen in death,
the savage passed by him and pressed in pursuit of the
father.

Mr. Bozarth had not attained to that age when the
sinews become too much relaxed for active exertion, but
was yet springy and agile, and was enabled to keep ahead
of his pursuer. Despairing of overtaking him, by reason
of his great speed, the savage hurled a tomahawk at his
head. It passed harmless by; and the old gentleman got
safely off.

When George Bozarth fell as the Indian fired, he lay
still as if dead, and supposing the scalping knife would be
next applied to his head, determined on seizing the savage
by the legs as he would stoop over him, and endeavor to
bring him to the ground; when he hoped to be able to
gain the mastery over him. Seeing him pass on in pursuit
of his father, he arose and took to flight also. On
his way he overtook a younger brother, who had become
alarmed, and was hobbling slowly away on a sore foot.
George gave him every aid in his power to facilitate his
flight, until he discovered that another of the savages was
pressing close upon them. Knowing that if he remained
with his brother, both must inevitably perish, he was reluctantly
forced to leave him to his fate. Proceeding on,
he came up with his father, who not doubting but he was

killed when the savage fired at him, broke forth with the
exclamation. "Why George, I thought you were dead," and
manifested, even in that sorrowful moment, a joyful feeling
at his mistake.

The Indians who were at the house, wrought their
work of blood upon such as would have been impediments
to their [319] retreat; and killing two or three smaller
children, took Mrs. Bozarth and two boys prisoners.
With these they made their way to their towns and arrived
in time to surrender their captives to Gen. Wayne.

This was the last mischief done by the Indians in
North Western Virginia. For twenty years the inhabitants
of that section of the country, had suffered all the
horrors of savage warfare, and all the woes which spring
from the uncurbed indulgence of those barbarous and vindicitive
passions, which bear sway in savage breasts. The
treaty of Greenville, concluded on the 3d of August 1795,
put a period to the war, and with it, to those acts of devastation
and death which had so long spread dismay and
gloom throughout the land.