University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER I.

DEPREDATIONS EAST OF THE MOUNTAINS.

Although this part of our work is designed chiefly to embrace
the operations, by and against, the western Indians
during the twenty years immediately preceding the treaty of
Greenville, still we cannot pass without some notice those
which occurred prior to the peace of November, 1774. Premising
this much, we will turn back the pages of history and
briefly glance at some of the bolder acts in the bloody drama,
performed on the then frontier of Virginia.

Allusion has already been made to the irruptions of savages
in the Valley of Virginia, during the years following Braddock's
defeat. One of their earliest acts was the captivity
of a Mrs. Neff on the south-branch of the Wappatomaca.
Having secured their prisoner and helped themselves to some
plunder, the savages (fourteen in number) left for their homes,
by way of Fort Pleasant.[1] On the second night, they reached

the vicinity of the fort, and leaving Mrs. Neff in the care of
an old Indian, the warriors separated into two parties, that
they might better watch the fort.

"At a late hour in the night, Mrs. Neff discovering that
her guard was pretty soundly asleep, ran off. The old fellow
very soon awoke, fired off his gun, and raised a yell. Mrs.
N. ran between the two parties of Indians, got safe into Fort
Pleasant, and gave notice where the enemy were encamped.
A small party the same evening came from another fort a few
miles above, and joined their friends in Fort Pleasant. After
the escape of Mrs. N., the Indians collected into a deep glen,
near the fort. Early the next morning, sixteen men, well
mounted and armed, left the fort with a view to attack the
Indians. They soon discovered their encampment by the
smoke of their fire. The whites divided themselves into two
parties, intending to enclose the Indians, but unfortunately,
a small dog which followed them, starting a rabbit, alarmed
the Indians, upon which they cautiously moved off, passed
between the two parties of white men unobserved, took a position
between them and their horses, and opened a most destructive
fire. The whites returned the fire with great firmness
and bravery, and a desperate and bloody conflict ensued.
Seven of the whites fell dead, and four were wounded. The
others retreated to the fort. Three Indians fell in this battle,
and several were wounded. The victors secured the white
men's horses, and took them off. This was called the battle
of the Trough.

Just before the above action commenced, Mr. Vanmeter,
an old man, mounted his horse, rode upon a high ridge, and
witnessed the battle. He returned with all speed to the fort,
and gave notice of the defeat."

These repeated depredations of the savages, induced Gov.
Dinwiddie, early in 1756, to order an expedition against the
Indian towns on the Ohio. Maj. Andrew Lewis was appointed
to command this expedition, and directed to proceed against
the Shawanese villages near the mouth of the Great Kanawha.

Major Lewis led his men through great peril and suffering
within a few miles of the Ohio, when a message ordering a
return of the expedition reached him. The whole party suffered
intensely during this march, and once were reduced to
the necessity of cutting their buffalo skins into tugs and
eating them; hence the name of Tug river.[2]

The Indians having noticed the advance and return of this
expedition, naturally supposed that it was deemed unsafe to
penetrate the Indian country with a force so inadequate to
the duty before them; and thus elated, pushed their acts of
depredation with increased fury. They struck across the
mountains by way of the Kanawha, Monongahela, Cheat, &c.,
carrying death to many a helpless family, and spreading alarm
throughout the entire valley.

In the summer of 1757, a body of Shawanese, led on by
their celebrated chief Kill-buck, crossed the Alleghanies and
committed various acts of depredation. Some thirty or forty
of this party appeared in the neighborhood of Edward's fort
and killed two men at a mill, whom they scalped, and then
made off, taking with them a quantity of meal. Information
having been conveyed to the fort, forty men, under Captain
Mercer, started in pursuit of the murderers. The Indians,
expecting this, concealed themselves beneath a bank and
awaited the approach of the whites. As a decoy, they had
strewn along the path some of the meal taken from the mill.
Mercer's party discovering this, supposed the Indians were
making a speedy retreat, and, not apprized of their strength,

moved on at a brisk step, until the whole party were drawn
immediately over the line of Indians beneath the bank, when
the latter opened a most destructive fire upon them, sixteen
falling dead at the first discharge. The others attempting to
save themselves by flight, were pursued and slaughtered in
every direction, until, out of the forty, but six escaped to the
fort. One poor fellow, who ran up the side of the mountain,
was fired at by an Indian; the ball penetrated just above his
heel, ranged up his leg, shivering the bones, and lodged a
little below his knee; he slipped under the lap of a fallen
tree and there hid himself, and lay in that situation for two
days and nights before he was discovered by his friends. It
was that length of time before the people at the fort would
venture out to collect and bury the dead. This wounded man
recovered, and lived many years after.

Some time afterwards, the Indians, in much greater force,
and aided, it was believed, by several whites, determined to
carry this fort by storm. The garrison had been considerably
reinforced; among others, by the late Gen. Daniel Morgan,
then a young man. The Indians made the assault with great
boldness; but on this occasion they met with a sad reverse of
fortune. The garrison sallied out, and a desperate battle
ensued. The assailants were defeated with great slaughter,
while the whites lost comparatively but few men.[3]

These constant inroads of the savages induced the people
to erect suitable forts at convenient points. Many of
these little stockades arose along the Valley, which greatly
served to protect the inhabitants and restrain the savages.
Of these were Ashby's, on Patterson creek, near the present
town of Frankfort; Hedges, on the road from Martinsburg
to Bath; Riddel's and Wardon's, on Lost river; George's,
near Petersburg, &c.

During the following year, (1758,) the savages again re-appeared

east of the mountains, and spread desolation and
terror wherever they went. These visitations, doubtless for
better security, were generally made in large parties, and
their presence could not but create alarm among the sparsely
populated settlements. The following account of one of these
marauding parties, we take from the interesting local history
of that region. A party of about fifty Indians, penetrated the
neighborhood of Mill creek, about nine miles south of Woodstock.
This was pretty thickly settled; and among other
houses, George Painter had erected a large log one, with a
good sized cellar. On the alarm being given, the neighboring
people took refuge in this house. Late in the afternoon they
were attacked. Mr. Painter, attempting to fly, had three
balls shot through his body, and fell dead, when the others
surrendered. The Indians dragged the dead body back to
the house, threw it in, plundered the house of what they
chose, and then set fire to it. While the house was in flames,
consuming the body of Mr. Painter, they forced from the
arms of their mothers four infant children, hung them up in
trees, shot them in savage sport, and left them hanging.
They then set fire to a stable containing sheep and calves.
After these atrocities they moved off with forty-eight prisoners;
among whom were Mrs. Painter, five of her daughters,
and one of her sons; a Mrs. Smith and several of her children;
a Mr. Fisher and several of his children, among them a
lad of twelve or thirteen years old, a fine well grown boy, and
remarkably fleshy. This little fellow, it will presently be seen,
was destined to be the victim of savage cruelty.

Two of Painter's sons, and a young man by the name of
Jacob Myers, escaped. One of the Painters, with Myers,
ran over that night to Powell's fort, a distance of at least
fifteen miles, and to Keller's fort, for aid. A small party of
men set out early the next morning, well mounted and armed.
They reached Mr. Painter's early in the day; but on learning
the strength of the Indians, they declined going in pursuit,
as they were too weak to follow.

After six days' travel they reached their villages, and held
a council, when it was determined to sacrifice their helpless
prisoner, Jacob Fisher. They first ordered him to collect a
quantity of dry wood. The poor little fellow shuddered,
burst into tears, and told his father they intended to burn
him. His father replied, "I hope not;" and advised him to
obey. When he had collected a sufficient quantity of wood
to answer their purpose, they cleared and smoothed a ring
around a sapling, to which they tied him by one hand, then
formed a trail of wood around the tree, and set it on fire.
The poor boy was then compelled to run round in this ring of
fire until his rope wound him up to the sapling, and then back
until he came in contact with the flame, whilst his infernal
tormentors were drinking, singing, and dancing around him,
with "horrid joy." This was continued for several hours;
during which time the wretches became beastly drunk, and
as they fell to the ground, their squaws would keep up the
fire. With long sharp poles, they pierced the body of their
victim whenever he flagged, until the poor and helpless boy
fell and expired with the most excruciating torments, whilst
his father and brothers were compelled to be witnesses of the
heart-rending tragedy.

After an absence of about three years, Mrs. Painter, with
her son and two of her daughters; Mrs. Smith, who had the
honor, if it could be so deemed, of presenting her husband
with an Indian son,[4] by a distinguished chief; Fisher, and his
surviving sons, with several others, returned home. Three of
Mrs. Painter's daughters remained with the Indians; one of
whom, after many years captivity, returned. The others
married and spent their lives with their swarthy companions.

In connection with this, we may state, that a most remarkable

feature of the Indian life, was the peculiar power of
fascination which it exercised over those subjected to its
influence. Other instances are upon record which show that
this attachment to the allurements of savage life, was often
astonishing. The following will serve as an illustration.

About the year 1758, a man by the name of John Stone,
near what is called the White House, in the Hawksbill settlement,
was killed by Indians. Stone's wife, with her infant
child and a son about seven or eight years old, and George
Grandstaff, a youth of sixteen years old, were taken prisoners.
On the south-branch Mountain, the Indians murdered Mrs.
Stone and her infant, but took the boy and Grandstaff to
their towns. Grandstaff remained about three years a prisoner.
The boy Stone grew up with the Indians, came home, and
after obtaining possession of his father's property, sold it, got
the money, returned to the Indians and was never heard of
again.

MASSACRE AT SEYBERT'S FORT.

There is no accomplishment which the Indian warrior more
delights in than that of strategy. Studying from boyhood to
excel in this particular, he often becomes so skilful as to outwit
his more cautious, and frequently less sagacious antagonist.
Where, in ancient or modern history, do we find schemes
better matured and more successfully executed than those of
Pontiac? The capture of Mackinaw never has been surpassed
for ingenuity and skill; while the terrible catastrophe at fort
Massac, stands without a precedent either among civilized or
savage men. The famed wooden horse of old, from whose
capacious body issued the armed foe against the astonished
and bewildered Trojans, was but a dull idea compared with the
admirable finesse of the American savage on the lower Ohio,
or northern lake. We premise this much, to introduce a case
of fatal subtlety in our own State,—the capture of a small

frontier post known as Seybert's fort, which stood on the
south-branch of the Potomac, about twelve miles west of the
present town of Franklin, in Pendleton county. It was a rude
enclosure, cut out of the heart of the forest, but sufficiently
strong to have resisted any attack from the enemy had the
inmates themselves but been strong. Our artist has given a
very correct representation of this early and memorable fortress,
the history of which fills such a dark page in the annals
of Virginia.

Seybert's fort served as a place of resort for the people of
all the adjoining settlements. Into this they gathered in times
of threatening danger, and remained during the seasons when

the Indians were most troublesome. In May, 1758, a party
of Shawanese invested the fort, and demanded a surrender.
Finding neither threatening words nor bullets of any avail,
the cunning savages, after two days' trial, resorted to strategy,
and, unhappily, with most fatal success. They made
various propositions to the besieged to give up, and their
lives should be spared; if not, the siege should be continued
and every soul massacred.

The promise of safety lured the unfortunate victims from
their line of duty, and they yielded quiet possession of the fort.
There were thirty persons at the time within the enclosure,
and these the savages proceeded to secure. Instantly the
whites realized the horror of their situation, and saw the
inevitable doom which awaited them. In a moment of false
security, they trusted to the promise of savages, and now
were about to pay the folly with their lives. Of the whole
number, all were massacred but eleven. Various accounts of
the mode of massacre have been given, but the following is
doubtless most correct. Ten, whom they wished to save, were
secured and removed from the fort, the others were tied hand
and foot, and seated in a continuous line upon a log. Behind
each of the unfortunates stood a stalwart savage, who, at a
given signal, sunk his tomahawk through the skull of his
quivering victim. The work was soon finished, and the fort
destroyed. This horrible scene was witnessed by a youth
named Dyer, who was spared, although not of the number
removed from the limits of the fort. He was taken to Logstown,
on the Ohio, and thence to the Shawanee towns on the
Scioto. After nearly two years' captivity he escaped, and
made his way home. Of the other ten borne off as prisoners,
nothing satisfactory is known.

It was during this year (1758) that an incident occurred near
the present village of Petersburg, in Hardy, which stands
without a parallel in modern history. A man named Bingaman
lived with his family in a cabin, remote from any
neighbors. He had been cautioned against the Indians; but,

a man of most determined resolution and herculean strength,
he laughed at the idea of fear, and said, no cut-throat savages
should ever drive him from his home. In the fall of this
year, a party of eight Indians made a descent upon his
cabin, late at night, while all the family were asleep. Before
Bingaman was aware of his danger, the savages had forced
the door, and were in the house. Mrs. Bingaman, the
younger,[5] was shot through the left breast, but not dangerously
wounded. Bingaman got his parents, wife and child
beneath the bed, and then prepared for battle. The hired man
was called down, but refused to come. The room was dark,
and having discharged his gun, he commenced beating about
at random with his heavy rifle. In this manner he fought with
the desperation of a giant, and terribly did his blows tell
upon the enemy. One after another he beat down before him,
until finally, of the eight, but one remained, and he, terror-stricken,
made from the house, and escaped to tell his tribe,
that he had met with a man who was a "perfect devil." The
intrepid Virginian had actually killed seven of his foes, which
certainly, is unexampled in the history of single-handed combat.
During the fight, the Indians frequently grappled their
powerful antagonist, but were unable to keep him down, as
early in the engagement he had pulled off his shirt. In the
morning, when he found that his wife was wounded, he became
so exasperated at the cowardice of the hired man that
he would have killed him, had not Mrs. Bingaman interposed
to save his life.

Bingaman afterwards moved to Natchez, where his son
Adam, who was a lad at the time of the fight, had previously
moved, and there he (the elder) died. Most of these facts we
have derived personally from the venerable William Darby,
of Washington city, who knew both the Bingamans at Natchez,
and heard from each of them a recital of the incidents

of that terrible fight. Kercheval gives a somewhat different
version, but we have every reason to believe that our account
is in the main correct. We find in Kercheval another incident
illustrative of the energy and courage of this man, which
we give. A party of whites (of whom Bingaman was one) had
started in pursuit of some retreating Indians. They were
overtaken late at night, and the pursuing party dismounting,
the captain ordered Bingaman to remain with the horses,
whilst the rest made the attack. This he refused, and
followed after the company. "To make the destruction
of the enemy more certain, it was deemed advisable to wait
until daylight before they began the attack; but a young
man, whose zeal overcame his discretion, fired into the group,
upon which the Indians sprung to their feet and fled. Bingaman
singled out a fellow of giant-like size, whom he pursued,
throwing aside his rifle that his speed might not be retarded,
—passed several smaller Indians in the chase—came up with
him—and with a single blow of his hatchet cleft his skull.
When Bingaman returned to the battle-ground, the captain
sternly observed, `I ordered you to stay and guard the
horses.' Bingaman as sternly replied, `You are a rascal, sir;
you intended to disgrace me; and one more insolent word,
and you shall share the fate of that Indian,' pointing towards
the one he had just slain. The captain quailed under the stern
menace, and held his peace. The captain and Bingaman had,
a few days before, had a falling out. Several Indians fell in
this affair, while the whites lost none of their party."

The Indian depredations, during this and the following
years, were particularly fatal on the frontier settlements of
Virginia. Many families suffered severely and terribly. Of
these we will give a few as we find them related by the Historian
of the Valley. He gives many interesting incidents
connected with the early settlement of that part of Virginia,
which cannot but be interesting to the readers of the present
day.

In this year (1764), a party of eighteen Delawares crossed

the mountains. Furman's Fort was about one mile above
hanging-rock, on the South Branch. William Furman and
Nimrod Ashby had gone out from the fort to watch a deer lick
in the Jersey mountains.[6] The Indians discovered and killed
them both, and passed on into the county of Frederick,
where they divided into two parties. One party of eight
moved on to Cedar creek settlement; the other of ten attacked
the people in the neighborhood of the present residence of
Maj. John White. On this place a stockade was erected. The
people in the neighborhood had taken the alarm, and were on
their way to this fort, when assaulted by these Indians. They
killed David Jones and his wife. Also some of Mrs. Thomas'
family, and carried off one of the daughters. An old man,
named Lloyd, and his wife, and several of his children, were
killed. Esther Lloyd, their daughter, about thirteen years
old, received three tomahawk wounds in the head, was scalped,
and left lying, supposed to be dead. Henry Clouser and two
of his sons were killed, and his wife and four of his daughters
taken. The youngest daughter was about two years old;
and as she impeded the mother's travelling, they dashed her
brains out against a tree, in the presence of the agonized
parent. Mrs. Thomas was taken to the Wappatomaka; but
the river being pretty full, and deep fording, they encamped
near Furman's fort for the night. The next morning a party
of white men fired off their guns at the fort, which alarmed
the Indians, and they hurried across the river, assisting all
their female prisoners, except Mrs. Thomas, who being quite
stout and strong, was left to struggle for herself. The current,
however, proved too strong for her, and she floated down the
river—but lodged against a rock, upon which she crawled,
and saved herself from drowning.

The other party of eight Indians committed several murders
on Cedar creek. It is probable this party killed a Mr. Lyle,
a Mr. Butler, and some others. Mr. Ellis Thomas, the husband

of the woman whose story has just been given, was killed
the preceding harvest. This party of eight Indians took off
two female prisoners, but were pursued by some white men,
overtaken in the South Branch mountain, fired upon, and
one of the Indians killed. The others fled, leaving their
guns, prisoners and plunder.

The same year, (1764,) a party of eight Indians, with a
white man by the name of Abraham Mitchell, killed George
Miller, his wife and two children, within two miles of Strasburg.
They also the same day killed John Dellinger, and took his
wife, with her infant child, prisoners. In crossing Sandy
ridge, west of Capon river, this child had its brains beaten out
against a tree. A party of white men pursued them, overtook
them in the South Branch mountains, fired upon them,
and killed one, when the others fled, leaving every thing
behind.

In the latter part of this year, (1765,) the Indians made their
appearance in the neighborhood of Woodstock. They killed
an old man who, with some women and children, was making
his way to the fort at Woodstock. His name was George
Sigler.

Shortly before this, two Indians were discovered lurking
in the neighborhood of Mill creek. Matthias Painter, John
Painter, and William Moore, armed themselves, and went in
pursuit. They had not proceeded far, before they approached
a large fallen pine, with a very bushy top. As they neared
it, Matthias Painter observed, "We had better look sharp;
it is quite likely the Indians are concealed under the tops of
this tree." He had scarcely uttered the words before one of
them rose up and fired. The ball grazed the temple of John
Painter. Moore and Painter fired at the same instant; one
of their balls passed through the Indian's body, and he fell,
as they supposed, dead enough. The other fellow fled. The
white men pursued him some distance; but the fugitive was
too fleet for them. Finding they could not overhaul him, they
gave up the chase and returned to the pine tree: but to their
astonishment, the supposed dead Indian had moved off with

both guns and a large pack of skins. They pursued his trail,
and when he found they were gaining upon him, he got into
a sink hole, and as soon as they approached, commenced
firing at them. He had poured out a quantity of powder on
dry leaves, filled his mouth with bullets, and using a musket
which was a self-primer, he was enabled to load and fire with
astonishing quickness. He thus fired at least thirty times
before they could get a chance to dispatch him. At last Mr.
Moore got an opportunity, and shot him through the head.
Moore and Painter had many disputes which gave the fellow
the first wound. Painter, at length, yielded, and Moore got
the premium allowed by law for Indian scalps.

The fugitive who made his escape, unfortunately met with
a young woman on horseback, named Sethon, whom he tore
from her horse, and forced off with him. This occurred near
the present town of Newmarket, and after travelling about
twenty miles, it is supposed the captive broke down from
fatigue, and the savage monster beat her to death with a
heavy pine knot. Her screams were heard by some people
who lived upwards of a mile from this scene of horror, and
who next day, on going to the place to ascertain the cause,
found her stripped and weltering in her blood.

Allusion has been made in another part of this volume to
the murder of the three Eckarlys, brothers, who, in 1755,
settled on what is now known as Dunker's bottom, Cheat
river. The circumstances were about these. Dr. Thomas
Eckarly and his two brothers, all members of that peculiar
Christian sect called Dunkers, visited the west, and erected
a cabin, soon after the murder of the unfortunate Files
family, to which reference has elsewhere been made. The
three brothers continued to occupy undisturbed, for a number
of years, their peaceful and quiet possessions. Growing short
of ammunition, &c., the elder brother went on a trading expedition
to the east. In returning, he stopped at Fort
Pleasant, and there not being a very friendly feeling entertained

by many of the hardy bordermen toward this singular
sect, he was detained on a charge of being in alliance with
the Indians. At length, however, it was determined to send
a guard along with him, and if their suspicions were rightly
founded, he was to be brought back and dealt with accordingly.
In due time the escort reached the site of the humble
cabin in the forest, but, alas! the destroyer had been there,
and nothing remained but the half-consumed bodies of the
unfortunate brothers.

A few years subsequent to this, several settlers on the
Monongahela, near the mouth of Decker's creek, were cut off
by a party of Delawares. Of these, were Thomas Decker,
from whom the creek derives its name. But two or three
of the settlers escaped, and one of these, making his
way to Red-stone old fort, (Brownsville,) gave information
of the catastrophe. The commandant, Captain Paull, despatched
a message to Fort Pitt, conveying intelligence of
the visitation, and notifying Colonel Gibson of the probable
direction taken by the savages on their retreat. Colonel
Gibson, leaving the garrison in command of a subordinate
officer, passed rapidly down the river, hoping to intercept
them. In this, however, he failed; but came accidentally
upon a small party of Mingoes, encamped on Cross creek.
Little Eagle, a distinguished chief of that tribe, commanded
the party, and discovering the whites about the same time
that Gibson saw them, he gave a fearful whoop, and at the
same instant discharged his gun at the leader of the whites.
The ball passed through Gibson's coat, but without injuring
him. With the quickness of a tiger he sprang upon his foe,
and with one sweep of his sword, severed the head of Little
Eagle from his body. Two others were shot dead by the
whites, but the remainder escaped, and reported that the
white captain had cut off the head of their chief with a long
knife. This was the origin of that celebrated and fearfully
significant term, the "long-knives." It was applied throughout

the war to the Virginians, and even to this day has not
been forgotten by some of the western tribes. Captain Gibson,
himself a Virginian, acquired the soubriquet of "Long-knife
warrior," and was known by it always afterward.

In the Summer of 1761, there was an irruption of savages
into the James river settlement, attended with most fatal
results. The party embraced about fifty Shawanese warriors.
On Purgatory creek, they killed Thomas Perry, Joseph
Dennis, and a child; taking the wife of Dennis prisoner.
Thence they proceeded to the house of Robert Renick, making
prisoner of Mrs. Renick and her five children. Mr. Renick
being absent at the time, escaped, but only to fall at another
place. Proceeding to a near neighbor, where Mr. Renick happened
to be, they there killed him, and a man named Thomas
Smith, making captives of Smith's wife and a girl named Sally
Jew. At the time these murderous proceedings were going on,
three men (George Matthews, afterwards so distinguished in
the battles of Point Pleasant and Germantown, with two brothers
by the name of Maxwell,) rode up to the house, and discovering
the dead bodies of Smith and Renick lying in the
yard, made quick their retreat, but not before the Indians had
noticed their movements, and fired after them. One of the
Maxwells was slightly wounded in the arm. Mrs. Renick, on
her return to her friends, after a captivity of five years, said
the Indians saw the three men approach, and as they checked
up their horses at the fence, four of the Indians detailed for
that purpose, took aim, but the whites suddenly wheeling
their horses, saved their lives.

A party of the savages, twenty in number, were despatched
with their prisoners for the Ohio, whilst the remainder penetrated
further into the country to renew their depredations.
The alarm, however, had been sounded, and such of the
inhabitants as lived convenient, collected at Paull's fort.
Leaving five men to take care of the fort, a party of twenty-two,
headed by Matthews, went in pursuit. They were soon

overhauled, and after a severe fight, compelled to give
way. In consequence of the intense darkness of the night,
it was found impossible to pursue the enemy further, and
the Indians rejoining their companions, made good their
escape with prisoners and booty. Nine Indians and three
whites were killed in the engagement, all of whom were decently
buried.

Of the prisoners, Mrs. Renick and two of her sons were
ransomed in 1766; one died in captivity; another intermarried
with the Indians and became a chief; and a third settled
on the Scioto, near Chillicothe, from whom has sprung an
extensive and highly respectable family. Hannah Dennis
made her escape after two years' captivity.

It was during this year (1763) that two of the Greenbriar
settlements, (Muddy creek, and Big Levels,) were entirely
cut off. A party of some fifty or sixty Shawanese, supposed
to have been headed by Cornstalk, penetrated the country
under the garb of friendship, and as no recent hostilities had
taken place in that region, the inhabitants fondly believed
there was no danger. With this fatal security, they received
the savages warmly and extended them every reasonable
hospitality. Suddenly, they fell upon the men, butchering
every one of them, and then made captives of the women and
children. They next visited the Levels, where Archibald
Clendenin had erected a rude block house, and where were
gathered quite a number of families. Here the Indians were
again entertained with hospitality. Mr. Clendenin had just
brought in three fine elk, upon which the savages feasted
sumptuously. One of the inmates was a decrepid old woman,
with an ulcerated limb; she undressed the member, and
asked an Indian if he could cure it. "Yes," he replied, and
immediately sunk his tomahawk into her head. This was the
signal, and instantly every man in the house was put to
death.

The cries of the women and children alarmed a man in the
yard, who escaped and reported the circumstances to the
settlement at Jackson's river. The people were loth to believe
him, as the character of the Indians had been so peaceable.
Soon, however, they were convinced, for the savages appeared
and many of the fleeing families were massacred without
mercy. The prisoners were then marched off in direction
of the Ohio. Mrs. Clendenin proved herself in that trying
moment a woman fit to be one of the mothers of the west.
Indignant at the treachery and cowardly conduct of the
wretches, she did not fail to abuse them from the chief down,
in the most unmeasured manner. The savages, to intimidate
her, would flap the bloody scalp of her dead husband against
her face, and significantly twirl their tomahawks above her
head, but still the courageous woman talked to them like one
who felt her injuries, and feeling, resolved to express them.
On the day after her captivity, she saw an opportunity to
escape, and giving her infant to a woman, slipped unobserved
into a thicket. The child soon beginning to cry, one of the
Indians inquired concerning the mother, but getting no satisfactory
reply, swore he would "bring the cow to the calf,"
and taking the infant by the heels dashed out its brains
against a tree. Mrs. C. returned to her desolate home, and
secured the remains of her husband from the rapacious jaws
of the wild animals with which the woods abounded.

It is stated that a black woman in escaping from Mr.
Clendenin's house, killed her own child to prevent its cries
attracting the attention of the savages.

Such were some of the horrid realities felt and endured by
the first settlers of Western Virginia.

In October of this year, (1764,) a party of forty or fifty
Mingo and Delaware Indians crossed the Ohio, and ascending
Great Sandy came over on New river, where they
separated, and forming two parties, directed their steps

toward different settlements—one party going towards Roanoke
and Catawba, the other in the direction of Jackson's
river. They had not long passed, when their trail was discovered
by three men, (Swope, Pack and Pitman,) who were
trapping on New river. These men followed the trail till they
came to where the Indian party divided; and judging from
the routes taken, that their object was to visit the Roanoke
and Jackson's river settlements, they determined to apprize
the inhabitants of their danger. Swope and Pack started for
Roanoke and Pitman for Jackson's river. But before they
could accomplish their object, the Indians had reached the
settlements on the latter river, and on Catawba.

The party which came to Jackson's river, travelled down
Dunlap's creek and crossed James river, above Fort Young,
in the night and unnoticed; and going down this river to
William Carpenter's, where was a stockade fort under the
care of a Mr. Brown, they met Carpenter just above his
house and killed him. They immediately proceeded to the
house, and made prisoners of a son of Mr. Carpenter, two
sons of Mr. Brown, (all small) and one woman—the others
belonging to the house were in the field at work. The
Indians then despoiled the house and taking off some
horses, commenced a precipitate retreat—fearing discovery
and pursuit.

When Carpenter was shot, the report of the gun was heard
by those at work in the field; and Brown carried the alarm
to Fort Young and Fort Dinwiddie. Captain Paul, commanding
the latter, immediately started with twenty men in
pursuit. On Indian creek they met Pitman almost exhausted.
The pursuit was kept up, but the savages escaped.

As Captain Paul and his men were returning, they accidentally
met with the other party of Indians, who had been
to Catawba, and committed some depredations and murders
there. They were discovered about midnight, encamped on
the north bank of New river, opposite an island at the mouth
of Indian creek. Excepting some few who were watching

three prisoners, (whom they had taken on Catawba, and who
were sitting in the midst of them,) they were lying around a
small fire, wrapped in skins and blankets. Paul's men not
knowing that there were captives among them, fired in the
midst, killed three Indians, and wounded several others, one
of whom drowned himself to preserve his scalp—the rest of
the party fled hastily down the river and escaped.

Several captives were released, and considerable plunder
recovered. To show the deadening effect of these terrible
scenes upon the human mind, we will copy the reply of a
prisoner rescued at this time. She was a Mrs. Gunn, an
English woman, and had known Captain Paul years before.
Recognizing his voice, she called him by name, just as one of
his men, who supposed her to be a squaw, was in the act of
tomahawking her. She made no resistance, and when asked the
reason replied, "I had as soon be killed as not—my husband
is murdered—my children are slain—my parents are dead. I
have not a relation in America—everything dear to me here
is gone—I have no wishes—no hopes—no fears—I would not
have risen to my feet to save my life."

Such were some of the horrors experienced on the frontier
in the early settlement of the country. The above facts we
derive chiefly from Withers.

1777.

This, the far-famed bloody-year, and the "year of the three
sevens," as the old pioneers were accustomed to call it, is full
of painful incidents to hundreds of families in North-Western
Virginia. It was, indeed, the most terrible year the early
settlers ever experienced. Dark, mysterious clouds of malignant
spirits hung upon the horizon, threatening every moment
to overwhelm and exterminate the half-protected pioneer
in his wilderness home. At length the storm broke over
them, and scarcely a settlement in the great Valley of the

West that did not experience its fatal and terrible effect. The
fury of the savages during this year seemed to have no bounds.
The wretched inhabitants were massacred with every conceivable
cruelty. Men, women, and children were chosen objects
of their revenge, and scarcely a settlement west of the Alleghanies
that escaped their visits and their fury. The alarm
became great, and terror seemed to seize upon the entire
population. Block-houses were hastily thrown up, and many
who could, moved their families to Red-stone, and other points
on the Monongahela; but still, there were hundreds left to
endure all the anticipated horrors of an Indian invasion.

The Indians separated into what were termed "scalping
parties," and penetrated the country at various points. One
of their first acts along the Monongahela was to visit the
house of a Mr. Grigsly, on West Fork, and carry off his wife
and two children. Mr. Grigsby was absent at the time; but
returning soon after, and missing his family, suspected the
true cause, although no injury had been done to either the
house or furniture. Securing the services of some of his
neighbors, pursuit was immediately given. Keeping the trail
about six miles, the horror-stricken husband came suddenly
upon the ghastly forms of his murdered wife and child. The
savages, finding Mrs. Grigsby unable to travel on account
of her delicate situation, most inhumanly tomahawked her,
together with her youngest child.

The almost frantic husband and parent, burning for revenge,
rushed on with a few select men, but the savages
suspecting a pursuit, divided into small parties, and so
effectually covered their trail, that all efforts to trace them
were unsuccessful, and the pursuit had to be given up.

This was but the commencement of such scenes of blood
along the Monongahela. A short time after this occurrence,
a Miss Coons, whose father erected Coons' fort, went into the
field to turn some hemp which lay near the fort. While there
engaged, two young men, Thomas Cunningham and Enoch
James, approached, and after a short conversation, went on.
They had not gone far before the report of a gun was heard,

and on looking round saw two Indians standing near Miss
Coons, one of whom was in the act of scalping his unfortunate
victim. Pursuit was immediately given, but the savages
eluded every effort to trace them. One of the young men
fired at the retreating murderer, but without success.

Western Pennsylvania suffered in common this year with
Western Virginia. Scalping parties overran the settlements
along the lower Monongahela and its tributaries. The
settlements within the region now embraced in Washington,
Alleghany, and Westmoreland counties suffered
severely. As it was known that the Indians who committed
these depredations crossed the Alleghany river, it was determined
to erect a fort at some convenient point on that stream,
supposing that the presence of a small garrison would have
the effect to check the movements of the enemy in that quarter.
Accordingly, Colonel William Crawford, whose melancholy
fate a few years later thrilled the whole country with
horror, visited the Alleghany for the purpose of selecting a
proper location for the proposed fort. He decided to place it
near the mouth of Puckety creek, about seventeen miles above
Fort Pitt. The fort was immediately built, and called Crawford,
in honor of its projector. Several others were erected
about this time along the Loyalhanna, Kiskeminitas, Cheat,
Ten-mile, Pidgeon creek, &c. &c. The effect of the erection
of this fort may have been to force the Indians lower down,
and such was doubtless the fact. Large parties of them
found their way into Virginia at points below, and their
operations in this quarter were more extensive, particularly
in the neighborhood of Wheeling, (which we shall presently
notice) than was ever before undertaken. The whole combined
force of the western confederated tribes seemed directed against
this particular section.

Early in April, a man named Rodger McBride, was killed
and scalped, about ten miles up Wheeling creek, which caused
considerable excitement, and induced Colonel Morgan, United

FORT HENRY—WHEELING—1777.

States Indian Agent for the middle department, to communicate
the fact by letter to Colonel Crawford, under date April
10. About the same time, another murder was committed
near where Bridgeport now stands, (opposite Wheeling).

SIEGE OF FORT HENRY.[7]

The fall of 1777, so memorable in the annals of the West,
was remarkable for nothing more than the united and determined
attack, by the combined arms of British and Indians,
against the stockade at Wheeling, Virginia.

The eloquent Chatham was never more right, than when
he denounced the alliance between Britain and the American
savages as a "disgrace,—a deep and deadly sin." That
act, connected as it was with the execrable scalp bounty, will
stand a living stigma upon her name and history as long as
time lasts.

Early in the month of August, fears began to be felt by
the settlers, as flying reports occasionally reached them, that
the Indians were gathering in great numbers, and it seemed
certain they meditated an attack during the approaching
autumn. Every precaution was taken to guard against an
insidious attack. Scouting parties were kept out, who, with
the sleepless vigilance of well trained spies, watched all the
movements of the enemy. Information had been conveyed
to General Hand, commanding at Fort Pitt, by some friendly
Moravian Indians, who received it from Isaac Zane, brother
of Colonel Ebenezer Zane,[8] that a large army of Indians,
composed chiefly of warriors from the great North-Western
confederacy, were making vigorous preparations to strike an
effective and terrible blow upon some of the settlements on
the Ohio. It was further stated, that this chosen body of

savages would be under the command of Simon Girty, a man
whose known relentless ferocity toward his foresworn countrymen,
could not but add to the fearful prospect before them.

General Hand lost no time in widely disseminating the
information thus obtained.

As it was uncertain where the expected blow would fall, all
was activity, fear and alarm at the several little half-finished
fortresses stretching at distances from one to two hundred
miles, between Fort Pitt and the Great Kanawha. But it
soon became manifest at what point the enemy designed to
strike. With apprehensions of dread, the settlers at the
mouth of Wheeling, (numbering about thirty families,) betook
themselves to their fort, and with calm resolution awaited the
issue.

Early in the evening of the 31st of August, Capt. Joseph
Ogle, who had been sent out some days before, at the head of
ten or fifteen men, to scout along the different routes usually
followed by the Indians, returned to Wheeling, and reported
no immediate cause of danger.

The Indians, with their accustomed sagacity, suspecting
that their movements might be watched, abandoned all the
paths usually trodden, and dividing as they approached the
river, into small distinct parties, struck out along new lines
for the Ohio. Without discovery, they reached the vicinity
of Bogg's island, (two miles below Wheeling creek,) and there
consolidating their force, crossed the river and proceeded
directly to the creek bottom, under cover of night, and completed
their plans for movement in the morning.

The Indian army consisted of over three hundred and fifty
Mingoes, Shawanese and Wyandotts. It was commanded by
the notorious renegade, Simon Girty, and well furnished with
arms, ammunition, &c., by the infamous Hamilton, governor of
Canada. Girty disposed of his men in two lines across the
bottom,[9] stretching from the river to the creek. They were

arranged at convenient distances, and effectually concealed
by the high weeds and corn.

Posted near the centre of these lines, and close to a path
leading from the fort (which they supposed some of the whites
would pass along in the morning,) were six Indians.

Shortly after day-break of the 1st of September, (see note
B., end Chap. I.,) Dr. McMechen, who was about returning
east of the mountains, sent out a white man named Boyd, and
a negro, to catch the horses. The two men had not proceeded
far before they discovered the six Indians already referred to.
Hoping to escape, they made a hurried retreat, but Boyd was
killed. The negro was permitted to return, doubtless to
mislead the whites as to the actual number of the foe.

The commandant immediately ordered Captain Samuel
Mason, who had brought his company to the fort on the previous
evening, to go out and dislodge the enemy. With
fourteen of his men, the gallant Captain at once sallied forth,
and after proceeding partly across the bottom, discovered the
six Indians and fired upon them. Almost simultaneously
with this discharge, the entire Indian army arose, and with
horrid yells rushed upon the little band of whites. Finding
that to stand were madness, Mason ordered a retreat, and in
person commenced cutting his way through the Indian line.
This he succeeded in doing, but most of his gallant little
party perished in the attempt. Out of the fourteen, but two
escaped, and they, like Captain Mason, eluded the pursuing
savages by concealing themselves beneath brush and fallen
timber. The names of those who escaped this general slaughter,
were Hugh McConnell and Thomas Glenn. William Shepherd,
son of Colonel David Shepherd, had gained the spring
near where the market-house now stands, when one of his
feet caught in a vine, and falling, the pursuing savage was
instantly upon him, and with a war club dispatched him on
the spot.

So soon as the disaster to Mason had been ascertained at the

fort,[10] Captain Joseph Ogle, with his dozen experienced scouts,
advanced to his relief, but not without forebodings of imminent
danger, as the yells of the savages, and shrieks of the
whites, told too plainly that a terrible massacre was taking
place.

With fearless steps Captain Ogle moved on to the scene of
conflict, determined to cover the retreat of his unfortunate
countrymen, or perish in the attempt. An excited and bloody
foe rushed upon them with the fury of demons, and all but
two or three shared the fate of the first detachment.

Captain Ogle,[11] Sergeant Jacob Ogle, Martin Wetzel, and
perhaps one other, were all who escaped.

The loss of so many brave men at such a time, was a sad
blow to this part of the country. Those who fell were the
pride of that little fortress. They were heroes in every sense
of the word;—men of iron nerve, indomitable courage and
devoted patriotism. The valor of either would have done
honor to the victors of Marathon. Scarcely had the shrieks
of the wounded and dying been quieted, than the army of
savages, with reeking scalps just torn from the heads of the
ill-fated soldiery, presented themselves in front of the fort,
and demanded a surrender.

The appearance of the enemy, as they approached, was

most formidable. They advanced in two separate columns,
with drum, fife, and British colors.

The morning was calm, warm, and bright, and the sun just
rising over the high hill which overlooked the fort, was gently
dissipating the heavy fog which covered the bloody scene on
the bottom.

As the Indians advanced, a few scattering shots were fired
at them from the fort, without, however, doing much execution.
Girty, having brought up his forces, proceeded to dispose
of them as follows. The right flank, was brought around
the base of the hill, and distributed among the several cabins
convenient to the fort. The left were ordered to defile beneath
the river bank, close under the fort.

Thus disposed, Girty presented himself at the window of a
cabin, holding forth a white flag, and offering conditions of
peace. He read the proclamation of Hamilton, Governor of
Canada, and in a stentorian voice demanded the surrender of
the fort, offering, in case they complied, protection; but if
they refused, immediate and indiscriminate massacre.

Girty referred, in a very boasting manner, to the great
force at his command; and called upon them, as loyal subjects,
to give up in obedience to the demand of the king's
agent, and that not one of them should be injured.

Although the whole number of men then in the fort did
not exceed ten or a dozen, still there was no disposition to
yield; but, on the contrary, a fixed determination to defy the
renegade, and all the power of King George.

Girty having finished his harangue, Colonel David Shepherd,
the commandant, promptly and in the most gallant and
effective manner, replied, "Sir, we have consulted our wives
and children, and all have resolved—men, women, and children,
sooner to perish at their posts than place themselves
under the protection of a savage army with you at the head;
or abjure the cause of liberty and the colonies." The outlaw
attempted to reply, but a shot from the fort put a stop to any
further harangue.

A darker hour had scarcely ever obscured the hopes of the
west. Death was all around that little fortress, and hopeless
despair seemed to press upon its inmates; but still they could
not and would not give up. Duty, patriotism, pride, independence,
safety, all required they should not surrender, and
forswear the cause of freedom.

Unable to intimidate them, and finding the besieged proof
against his vile promises, the chagrined and discomfited
Girty disappeared from the cabin, but in a few minutes was
seen approaching with a large body of Indians, and instantly
a tremendous rush was made upon the fort. They attempted
to force the gates, and test the strength of the pickets by
muscular effort. Failing to make any impression, Girty
drew off his men a few yards, and commenced a general fire
upon the port-holes.

Thus continued the attack during most of the day and part
of the night, but without any sensible effect. About noon,
a temporary withdrawal of the enemy took place. During
the cessation, active preparations were carried on within the
fort to resist a further attack. Each person was assigned
some particular duty. Of the women, some were required to
run bullets, while others were to cool the guns, load and hand
them to the men, &c. Some of them, indeed, insisted upon
doing duty by the side of the men, and two actually took
their position at the port-holes, dealing death to many a
dusky warrior.

About three o'clock, the Indians returned to the attack
with redoubled fury. They distributed themselves among
the cabins, behind fallen trees, &c. The number thus disposed
of, amounted to perhaps one-half the actual force of
the enemy. The remainder advanced along the base of the
hill south of the fort, and commenced a vigorous fire upon
that part of the stockade. This was a cunningly devised
scheme, as it drew most of the inmates to that quarter. Immediately
a rush was made from the cabins, lead on by Girty
in person, and a most determined effort made to force the

entrance. The attempt was made with heavy timber, but
failed, with the loss of many of their boldest warriors.

Several similar attempts were made during the afternoon,
but all alike failed. Maddened and chagrined by repeated
disappointment and ill-success, the savages withdrew to their
covert until night-fall.[12] Day at length closed; darkness
deepened over the waters, and almost the stillness of death
reigned around. About nine o'clock, the savages re-appeared,
making night hideous with their yells, and the heavens lurid
with their discharge of musketry.

The lights in the fort having been extinguished, the inmates
had the advantage of those without, and many a stalwart
savage fell before the steady aim of experienced frontiermen.

Repeated attempts were made during the night to storm
the fort, and to fire it, but all failed through the vigilance and
activity of those within.

At length that night of horror passed, and day dawned
upon the scene, but to bring a renewal of the attack. This,
however, did not last long, and despairing of success, the
savages prepared to leave. They fired most of the buildings,
killed the cattle, and were about departing, when a relief
party of fourteen men, under Colonel Andrew Swearengen,
from Holliday's fort, twenty-four miles above, landed in a
pirogue, and undiscovered by the Indians, gained entrance to
the fort.

Shortly afterwards, Major Samuel McColloch, at the head
of forty mounted men, from Short creek, made their appearance

in front of the fort, the gates of which were joyfully
thrown open. Simultaneously with the appearance of
McColloch's men, re-appeared the enemy, and a rush was
made to cut off the entrance of some of the party. All,
however, succeeded in getting in except the gallant Major,
who, anxious for the safety of his men, held back until his
own chance was entirely cut off. Finding himself surrounded
by savages, he rode at full speed in direction of the hill.

The enemy, with exulting yells, followed close in pursuit,
not doubting they would capture one whom of all other men
they preferred to wreak their vengeance upon. (For a full
account of the sequel, the reader is referred to the biographical
sketch of Major McColloch, to be found in its appropriate
place in this volume.) Greatly disappointed at the escape of
the gallant Major, and knowing the hopelessness of attempting
to maintain a siege against such increased numbers, the
Indians fired a few additional shot at the fort, and then
moved rapidly off in a body for their own country.

It has been conjectured that the enemy lost on this occasion
from forty to fifty in killed and wounded. The loss of the
whites has been already stated. Not a single person was
killed within the fort, and but one slightly wounded.

DEPLORABLE AMBUSCADE.

By far the most disastrous ambuscade in the settlement of
the west, was that at the head of Grave creek narrows, now
Marshall county, Virginia, September 27th, 1777.

Captain William Foreman, a brave and meritorious officer,
organized a volunteer company in Hampshire county, Virginia,
and marched to Wheeling in the fall of 1777. It was known
that Patrick Henry, Governor of Virginia, had determined
early in the spring of that year, to send an expedition against
the Indian towns at the head of the Scioto, and with this

view ordered three hundred men to be raised in the counties
of Youghioghany, Monongalia and Ohio. Some of the most
patriotic of the citizens east of the mountains, thinking the
west in this emergency might stand in need of aid, determined
to go to her assistance. Of this number was Capt.
Foreman, who soon raised a company, and by the middle of
September was at Wheeling. A gallant soldier, but wholly
unfamiliar with Indian warfare, he proved himself unfit for
the service, and in his very first expedition suffered the
deplorable ambuscade an account of which we will now give.

After the withdrawal of the Indians from Wheeling,
nothing more was seen of them, or heard of their movements
up to the time of which we now speak; and the impression
became general that they had retired to their towns.

On Sunday morning, September 26th, (1777,) a smoke was
noticed by some persons at Wheeling, in the direction of
Grave creek, which caused an apprehension that the Indians
might be burning the stockade and houses of Mr. Tomlinson.
In order to ascertain this fact, and afford protection if any
were necessary, Captain Foreman, with his company, and a
few experienced scouts, were despatched by Colonel Shepherd
for the purpose.

The party proceeded without interruption to Grave creek,
and found all safe. Remaining over night, they started early
on the following morning to return. When they had reached
the lower end of Grave creek narrows, some of the more
experienced frontiermen suggested the expediency of leaving
the river bottom, and returning by way of the ridge. The
commander, however, hooted at the idea of so much caution,
and ordered the party to proceed. The order was obeyed by
his own men, including several of the volunteer scouts; but
some declined to go with him, and of these was a man named
Lynn, whose great experience as a spy, added to his sagacity
and judgment, should at least have rendered his opinions
valuable, and entitled to weight. His apprehensions were,
that the Indians, if lurking about, had watched the movements

of the party, and would most likely attack them at
some point on the river. He said, that in all probability,
they had been on the opposite side of the river and noticed
the party go down; that they had crossed during the night
and most probably were at that time lying in ambush for their
return. How fearfully were his apprehensions realized.

During the interchange of opinions between Foreman and
Lynn, a man named Robert Harkness, a relative of Mr.
Tomlinson, sat on a log near the parties, and often said that
the controversy at times ran high. Foreman, who prided
himself on being a thoroughly disciplined officer, was not
disposed to yield to the suggestions of a rough backwoodman.
Lynn, on the other hand, convinced of the fatal error which
the other seemed determined to commit, could not but remonstrate
with all the power of persuasion at his command.
Finally, when the order to march was given, Lynn with some
six or eight others struck up the hill side, while Foreman with
his company pursued the path along the base.

Nothing of importance occurred until the party reached
the extreme upper end of the narrows. Just where the
bottom begins to widen, those in front had their attention
drawn to a display of Indian trinkets, beads, bands, &c.,
strewn in profusion along the path. With a natural curiosity,
but a great lack of perception, the entire party gathered
about those who picked up the articles of decoy, and whilst
thus standing in a compact group, looking at the beads, &c.,
two lines of Indians stretched across the path, one above, the
other below, and a large body of them simultaneously arose
from beneath the bank, and opened upon the devoted party a
most deadly and destructive fire. The river hill rises at this
point with great boldness, presenting an almost insurmountable
barrier. Still, those of the party who escaped the first discharge,
attempted to rush up the acclivity, and some with
success. But the savages pursued and killed several.

At the first fire, Captain Foreman and most of his
party, including his two sons, fell dead. The exact loss

cannot with certainty be ascertained, but is supposed to have
been about twenty, including the Captain. We give, (Note
C., end Chap. I.,) a list of losses, &c., sustained by members
of Captain Foreman's company, but there is nothing to indicate
who were killed. The presumption is, however, that most
of those whose names are mentioned suffered on the occasion
referred to.

When Lynn and his party heard the guns, they rushed
down the side of the hill, hallooing as though they were five
times as numerous. This had the effect of restraining the
savages in pursuit, and perhaps saved the lives of many.

Of those who escaped up the hill were Robert Harkness and
John Collins. The former, in pulling himself up by a sapling,
had the bark knocked into his face with a ball from an Indian's
gun. Collins was shot through the left thigh, breaking the
bone, and completely disabling him. Lynn and his companions
carried him to a spring said to have been just over
the hill, and throwing together their supply of provisions, left
him in a sheltered position, promising to send a messenger
on the following day with a horse.

Those who were so fortunate as to escape this terrible affair,
made their way in safety to Wheeling.

On the second day, a party went down and buried the dead.
Col. Shepherd, Col. Zane, Andrew Poe, and Martin Wetzel
were of this number. They were thrown into one common
grave, and the place of their interment is still pointed out to
the passer-by.[13]

Collins, the wounded man, was taken off on horseback, the
second night. They carried him to Shepherd's Fort, and the
present Mrs. Cruger remembers to have seen him when

brought in. He suffered greatly with his wounded limb in
riding; but finally recovered, and lived for many years.

The number of Indians engaged in this affair was never
known. Some supposed it was the same body that attacked
the fort at Wheeling, three weeks previous; but this is all
conjecture.

About the last of September, two men (Leonard Petro and
William White), who were watching a path that led up the
Little Kanawha, killed an elk, and after a hearty supper laid
down to sleep. "About midnight, White awakening, discovered
by the light of the moon, that there were several Indians near,
who had doubtless been drawn by the report of their gun in the
evening. He saw at a glance, the impossibility of escape, by
flight; and preferring captivity to death, he whispered to
Petro to lie still, lest any movement of his might lead to this
result. In a few minutes the Indians sprang on them; and
White raising himself as one lay hold of him, aimed a furious
blow, with his tomahawk, hoping to wound the Indian by
whom he was beset, and then make his escape. Missing his
aim, he affected to be ignorant of the fact, that he had
encountered Indians; professed great joy at meeting with
them, and declared that he was then on his way to their
towns. They were not deceived by the artifice; for although
he assumed an air of pleasantness and gaiety, calculated to
win upon their confidence, yet the woful countenance of Petro,

1 In 1835, a few gentlemen, chiefly members, we believe, of a Light-horse
company, raised a small fund, and had placed near the spot of their interment,
a plain stone, bearing in simple, but expressive language, this inscription,
"This humble stone is erected to the memory of Captain Foreman, and
twenty-one of his men, who were slain by a band of ruthless savages,—the
allies of a civilized nation of Europe—on the 26th of September, 1777.

convinced them that White's conduct was feigned, that he
might lull them into inattention, and thus be enabled to escape.
They were both tied for the night; and in the morning, White
being painted red, and Petro black, they were forced to proceed
to the Indian towns. When approaching their village,
the whoop of success brought several to meet them; and on
their arrival at it, they found every preparation made for
running the gauntlet. White did not, however, remain long
in captivity. Eluding their vigilance, he took one of their
guns and began his flight homeward. Before he had travelled
far, he met an Indian on horseback, whom he succeeded in
shooting; and mounting his horse, made his way home.
Petro was never heard of afterwards. The painting of him
black, had indicated their intention to kill him; and the
escape of White probably hastened it."

The inhabitants of the Upper Monongahela continued to
observe their usual vigilance until toward the close of November,
when a fall of snow occurring, they relaxed somewhat their
watchfulness. As a general thing, the Indians withdrew from
the settlements on the commencement of winter, and did not
reappear until the coming spring. Instances were very rare,
in which they disturbed the settlements during winter. The
readiness by which they could be tracked, together with the
severity of the weather, compelled them to such a course.

The snow to which we have referred, lulled the inhabitants
into false security. About twenty Indians had penetrated
the settlement in Tygart Valley, and were waiting to make
an attack when the snow fell. Not liking to return without
some trophy of their valor, the savages concealed themselves
until the snow disappeared. On the 15th day of December
they came to the house of Darby Connoly, at the upper extremity
of the Valley, and killed his wife, himself, and several
of their children, taking three others prisoners. Proceeding

to the next house, they killed John Stewart, wife and child,
and took Miss Hamilton (sister of Mrs. Stewart) captive.
Then changing their direction, with great dispatch, they
entered upon their journey homeward, with the captives and
plunder.

In the course of the evening, after these outrages were
committed, John Hadden passing by the house of Connoly,
saw an elk which the family raised, lying dead in the yard,
and suspecting that all was not right, entered the house, and
with horror saw what had been done. Knowing that the
work of blood had been recently committed, he hastened to
alarm the neighborhood, and sent an express to Captain
Benjamin Wilson, who lived about twenty miles down the
Valley. With great promptitude, Capt. Wilson went through
the settlement, exerting himself to procure as many volunteers,
as would justify going in pursuit of the murderers; and so
indefatigable was he in accomplishing this purpose, that, on
the day after, he appeared with thirty men, prepared to take
the trail, and push forward in pursuit of the savages. For
five days they followed through cold and wet, often wading
and swimming streams, and then traveling many miles before
the icicles could be thawed off. Still there was no appearance
of the enemy; and at length, the men positively refusing
to go farther, the party returned from its fruitless chase, and
the savages escaped with their prisoners and booty.

These were perhaps, the last murders committed in North-Western
Virginia, during this fatal and bloody year.

DEATH OF GRANDSTAFF.

Of those who followed the Wetzels, Bonnetts, Messers and
others, to the west and settled on Wheeling creek, was a man
named Grandstaff. He improved the farm now owned by Mr.
Buchanan, about three miles above the forks.

On the renewal of Indian hostilities, Grandstaff removed
his family to Shepherd's fort. He was in the habit, however,
of visiting his improvements almost daily, but returning to
the fort in the evening.

In March of this year, Mr. G. went up to his farm, when
a party of Indians, who had been lying in wait, shot and
scalped him.

1778.

Early in the commencement of this year, it became manifest
that the confederated tribes were preparing to renew their
attack upon the frontier settlements of the west. On the 8th
of February, Gov. Schuyler wrote to Congress,—"There is
too much reason to believe that an expedition will be formed
against the western frontiers of this state, Virginia and
Pennsylvania." The apprehensions of Gen. Schuyler were
too well founded. It was in this year the terrible drama of
Wyoming took place. Of the savage operations in this section,
we shall now proceed to notice. The success of the enemy
in the fall previous, seemed to madden them for blood, and at
a very early day they moved upon the frontier, spreading
alarm and death in almost every direction. The erection of
Fort Crawford on the Alleghany, and the contemplated military
operations of Gen. McIntosh on the Ohio, had the effect
of restraining the movements of the savages in each of these
directions, and forcing them to cross at points farther down.
Their failure to take Fort Henry in the previous September,
and thinking perhaps that the garrison had been strengthened,
they struck the frontier at points below and thence proceeded
against the settlements on the Monongahela. At that time,
the entire frontier from Wheeling to Point Pleasant (one hundred
and seventy miles) was unprotected, if we except the
small and wholly inefficient stations at Grave creek, Baker's,
etc. These offered no impediment to the progress of the

enemy, and unmolested they struck back to the heart of the
mountain settlements.

The inhabitants of the upper Monongahela, not unmindful
of the indications which had reached them, commenced busily
preparing for the anticipated attack. Harbert's block-house
on Ten-mile, was a safe and convenient resort, and thither
those living in that quarter took shelter. Notwithstanding
these prudential steps, they unhappily suffered themselves to
be lulled into false security. The weather being fine, the
children were allowed to play outside of the block-house.
Suddenly, one of them discovered Indians, and, running in,
gave the alarm. "John Murphy stepped to the door to see
if danger had really approached, when one of the Indians,
turning the corner of the house, fired at him. The ball took
effect, and Murphy fell into the house. The Indian springing
in, was grappled by Harbert, and thrown on the floor. A
shot from without, wounded Harbert, yet he continued to
maintain his advantage over the prostrate savage, striking
him effectually as he could with his tomahawk, when another
gun was fired from without, the ball passing through his
head. His antagonist then slipped out at the door, badly
wounded in the encounter.

"Just after the first Indian entered, an active young warrior,
holding a tomahawk with a long spike at the end, came
in. Edward Cunningham instantly drew up his gun, but it
flashed, and they closed in doubtful strife. Both were active
and athletic; and sensible of the high prize for which they
contended, each put forth his strength, and strained every
nerve to gain the ascendancy. For awhile, the issue seemed
doubtful. At length, by great exertion, Cunningham wrenched
the tomahawk from the hand of the Indian, and buried the
spike end to the handle, in his back. Mrs. Cunningham closed
the contest. Seeing her husband struggling with the savage,
she struck at him with an axe. The edge wounding his face
severely, he loosened his hold, and made his way out of the
house.

"The third Indian, who had entered before the door was
closed, presented an appearance almost as frightful as the
object he had in view. He wore a cap made of the unshorn
front of a buffalo, with the ears and horns still attached, and
hanging loosely about his head, gave a most hideous appearance,
and on entering the room, this frightful monster, aimed a
blow with his tomahawk at Miss Reece, which alighting on her
head, inflicted a severe wound. The mother, seeing the uplifted
weapon about to descend on her daughter, seized the monster
by the horns; but his false head coming off, she did not succeed
in changing the direction of the weapon. The father
then caught hold of him; but far inferior in strength, he was
thrown on the floor, and would have been killed, but for the
interference of Cunningham, who, having succeeded in clearing
the house of one Indian, wheeled and struck his tomahawk
into the head of the other.

"During all this time the door was kept secured by the
women. The Indians from without endeavored several times to
force it and would at one time have succeeded; but just as it
was yielding, the Indian, who had been wounded by Cunningham
and his wife, squeezed out, causing a momentary relaxation
of their efforts, and enabled the women again to close it."

The savages on the outside, in the meantime, were busily
engaged in securing such of the children as could travel, and
murdering in the most inhuman and revolting manner all who
could not. Despairing of being able to do further mischief,
they moved off.

One white adult only was killed, and four or five wounded.
Of the children, eight or ten were killed and carried off. The
Indians lost one killed, and had two badly wounded.

Many other depredations of a similar character occurred
in that part of Virginia, during the spring of the present
year. Our crowded limits will not allow us to give them in
detail. We will notice a few as we find them chronicled by
the local historian.

"On the eleventh of April, some Indians visited the house of
William Morgan, on Dunker's bottom. They there killed a
young man by the name of Brain, Mrs. Morgan, (the mother
of William) and her grand-daughter, and Mrs. Dillon and her
two children; and took Mrs. Morgan (the wife) and her child
prisoners. When on their way home, coming near Pricket's
fort, they bound Mrs. Morgan to a bush, and went in quest of
a horse to have her ride, leaving the child with her. She
succeeded in untying with her teeth, the bands which confined
her, and wandered the balance of that day and part of the
next, before she came in sight of the fort. Here she was
kindly treated, and in a few days sent home.

Toward the latter part of the same month, a party of about
twenty Indians visited Hacker's creek settlement. The families
were generally fortified; but as it was necessary to put in
a crop, the men while thus employed carried their rifles with
them, and often went in bodies, so as to afford better security
against surprise or attack from the Indians.

A company of men, thus engaged about the last week in
May, on Hacker's creek, and being a good deal dispersed
in various occupations, some fencing, others clearing, and a
few ploughing, they were unexpectedly fired upon, and Thos.
Hughes and Jonathan Lowther shot down: the others being
incautiously without arms, fled for safety. Two of the company,
having the Indians rather between them and West's fort,
ran directly to Richards',[14] as well for their own security as to
give the alarm. They had already been apprized that the
enemy were at hand. Isaac Washburn, who had been to mill
on Hacker's creek, on his return and near where Clement's
now stands, was shot from his horse, tomahawked and scalped.
The alarm of this murder had been given before the men
arrived. The Indians escaped without pursuit.

Early in June, a few Indians made their appearance in the
neighborhood of Fort Randolph (Point Pleasant), and after

vainly manœuvring to draw out an attacking party from the
garrison, disappeared, when suddenly a large body of savages
arose from their covert and demanded a surrender of the fort,
on pain of instant destruction.

Captain McKee, the commandant, asked until morning for
consideration. During the night, the besieged made good use
of the darkness by carrying water into the fort, and putting
all things in readiness for a regular siege.

In the morning, Captain McKee replied, that the demand
for a surrender could not be complied with. The Indians
(they were mostly Shawanese) then said, they had come expressly
for the purpose of avenging the death of their great
chief, Cornstalk; that the fort should be reduced, and every
soul massacred. The attack was commenced with great fury,
and continued, with but little intermission, for several days.
Finding they could make no sensible impression, the enemy
withdrew and proceeded up the Kanawha, evidently with the
intention of attacking the Greenbriar settlements. No recent
demonstration of hostility having been made in that quarter,
Captain McKee justly became alarmed for the issue, unless
information of their approach could be conveyed to the settlements.
Two soldiers were immediately sent in pursuit,
but being discovered, were fired upon, and they returned to
the fort. Two others then volunteered, Philip Hammon and
John Pryor. An Indian squaw present, decorated them in
true savage style, so that the native warriors could scarcely
have told them from genuine Shawanese. Thus equipped,
the intrepid hunters left Fort Randolph, and over hill and
dale they sped onward, until finally they reached the settlements.
The people were alarmed, and ere night closed in
the whole neighborhood were collected at the residence of
Colonel Andrew Donally.[15] Everything was put in readiness
for an attack. Dr. Campbell, in his Narrative, says, a strict

watch was kept through the night, but no enemy appeared.
The second day passed off in like manner. That night, most
of the men went to the second story, having slept none for
nearly forty-eight hours. In the latter part of the night they
became drowsy, and when daylight appeared, all were in a
profound sleep. Only three men were on the lower floor,—
Hammon, and the white and black servants of Colonel Donally.
At daybreak the white servant opened the door, that
he might bring in some firewood, and had gone but a few
steps from the house when he was shot down. The Indians
now sprang from their concealment on the edge of the rye-field
near the house, and rushing in a body, attempted to
enter the door. Hammon and the black servant Dick, made
an effort to secure it, but the Indians commenced chopping
with their tomahawks, and had actually cut through the door,
when Dick, fearing that they might succeed in gaining their
purpose, left Hammon at his post, and seizing a musket which
stood near, loaded with heavy slugs, discharged it through
the opening among the crowd. The Indians now fell back,
and the door was secured. Some of the savages crawled
under the floor, and were endeavoring to force their way up;
Hammon and Dick, with one or two men from the loft, who
had been aroused by the firing, quietly awaited the Indians
in their effort. Presently, one of them showing his head
through the opening, Hammon aimed a blow with his tomahawk,
which placed him beyond the power of doing further
injury. A second was killed in the same way, and the rest
escaped. In the meantime, all the men in the loft were up,
and pouring upon the enemy a most destructive fire, drove
them off under cover of the woods. The attack was kept up
during most of the day, but at such a distance as to do but
little harm. One man was killed by a ball passing through
an interstice in the wall. On the alarm being given by
Hammon and his companion, a messenger was sent to the
station at Lewisburg, (this messenger was John Pritchett, and
was killed on the morning of the attack). By the activity of
Colonel Samuel Lewis and Colonel John Stuart, a force of
sixty-six armed men was ready to march on the third morning.
To avoid an ambush, they left the direct road, and
taking a circuitous route, arrived opposite the fort, turned
across, and passing through a rye-field, entered in safety.
Giving up all hope after the accession of so large a force,
the savages withdrew, and moved off in direction of the Ohio.
Seventeen of them were found dead in the yard.

About the middle of June, as Captain James Booth and
Nathaniel Cochran, were at work in a field on Booth's creek,
a party of Indians came upon them, and killing Booth, took
the other prisoner. Captain Booth was a brave and meritorious
citizen, and his loss was greatly regretted.

A few days subsequent to these transactions, William
Grundy,[16] Benjamin Shinn, and Benjamin Washburn, in returning
from a lick, were fired upon, and Grundy killed.
About the same time Thomas Ryan, brother of the boy
killed at the spring, during the meditated attack on Wheeling,
in 1781, was murdered on Short creek, on the farm
lately owned by R. Hardesty, Esq. Ryan was a man of
much energy of character, and had been useful in border
service. His death was greatly regretted.

His widow married Silas Zane, and was a second time
widowed by savage hands. Zane was killed while crossing
the Scioto, a few years after, in company with George Green
and one or two other men.

DEATH OF MRS. FREEMAN.

Although the Indians disappeared for a brief period after
their attack upon the men at Hacker's, still they lingered
through the country, closely watching every opportunity to
commit mischief. Had the force been sufficient at any one

post, to have gone in pursuit, the savages could have been
driven from the country; but, as it was, the settlers could
only remain at home and protect their women and children.
Notwithstanding the great danger there was known to be in
leaving the fort, still persons would occasionally venture out,
and unhappily, in many instances, at the sacrifice of their
lives. Such are the facts in the case we are now about to
give. Three women ventured forth from West's fort to
gather greens in an adjacent field. One of these was Mrs.
Freeman, another Mrs. Hacker, but the name of the third we
have not been able to ascertain. While thus busily engaged,
they were furiously attacked by four Indians, and all would
undoubtedly have been killed, had not their screams brought
the men to their rescue. Three of the savages immediately
retreated, but the fourth, who carried a long staff with a
spear on its end, ran up and thrust it through the body of
the unfortunate Mrs. Freeman. The savage then scalped his
victim before the men could drive him off.

Some persons at a distance from the fort, hearing the
screams, rushed forward. Of this number were Jesse Hughes
and John Schoolcraft, who ran for the fort together, and as
they approached, Hughes discovered two Indians standing
with their faces towards the fort, and looking very attentively
at the movements of the whites. Changing their course they
reached the fort in safety. Hughes immediately grasped
his rifle and bounded out in pursuit, followed by some half
dozen others. Before reaching the place where the two Indians
had been seen, a signal resembling the howl of a wolf was
heard, which Hughes immediately answered, and moved
rapidly on in the direction whence it proceeded. In a short
time, the howl was again given and a second time answered.
Running to the brow of a hill and cautiously looking around,
Hughes and his companions saw two Indians coming towards
them. Hughes instantly fired, and one of them fell. The
other sought safety in flight, and by running through the
thickets, finally escaped.

In the fall of this year, a party of Indians came upon
the house of Gilbert Hustead, living on Bartlett's run, and
made him prisoner. Hearing a noise in the yard, Hustead
opened the door to ascertain the cause, and finding it
surrounded by Indians, put on an air of the utmost nonchalance,
and walking out, extended his hand, welcoming
them to his house and manifesting every degree of pleasure
on seeing them. The wild men, not accustomed to so much
deception, greeted their new found friend, and stepped in to
share his proffered hospitality. Hustead could not be too
kind and attentive; and finally, by handsomely abusing the
"rebels," as he called his neighbors, and showing them (the
Indians) every civility, won their favor and saved his scalp.
Inquiring whether they were hungry and would not be glad
to have something to eat, he asked one of them to shoot a
fat hog in the yard, that they might regale on it that night,
and have some on which to subsist whilst travelling to their
towns. In the morning, still further to maintain the deception,
he broke his furniture to pieces, saying "the rebels shall
never have the good of this." He then accompanied them to
their towns, acting in the same, apparently contented and
cheerful manner, till his sincerity was believed by all, and he
obtained leave to return for his family. He succeeded in
making his way home, where he remained, sore at the destruction
of his property, but exulting in the success of his
artifice.

At the time of the above occurrence, a much larger party
of Indians made their way to Coburn's creek, and attacked a
company of whites returning from a field in the neighborhood
of Coburn's fort. John Woodfin and Jacob Miller were both
killed and scalped.

They next made their appearance on Dunker creek, near
to Stradler's fort. Here, as on Coburn creek, they lay in
ambush on the road side, awaiting the return of the men who

were engaged at work in some of the neighboring fields.
Towards evening the men came, carrying with them some
hogs which they had killed for the use of the fort people, and
on approaching where the Indians lay concealed, were fired
upon and several fell. Those who escaped injury from the first
fire, returned the shot, and a severe action ensued. But so
many of the whites had been killed before the savages exposed
themselves to view, that the remainder were unable
long to sustain the unequal contest. Overpowered by numbers,
the few who were still unhurt, fled precipitately to the
fort, leaving eighteen of their companions dead in the road.
These were scalped and mangled by the Indians in a most
shocking manner, and lay some time before the men in the
fort, assured of the departure of the enemy, went out and
buried them.

Weakened by the severe loss sustained in this bloody
skirmish, had the Indians pushed forward to attack the fort,
in all human probability, it would have fallen before them.[17]

One of the last murders committed in the Monongahela
country during this year, was that on the person of David
Edwards, a worthy and industrious settler. He had been to
Winchester for a supply of salt, and while on his return, near
Valley river, was shot, tomahawked and scalped. His remains
were not discovered for several days, and were so
mutilated by wild beasts that they were with difficulty recognized.

1779.

The surrender to Clark of the British "hair-buyer," as
Hamilton was very appropriately called, put it out of that
functionary's power to purge the west of the "Long-knives,"
as he had so bravely threatened to do. It also had the effect
to restrain the activity of the savages on the Virginia frontier,

especially as the trade in scalps had become dull since
the bounty patron had gone to Williamsburg, loaded with
irons. But the savages were not long quiet; they had injuries
of their own which they burned to avenge; and although
more prisoners were made and fewer scalps taken, than when
Hamilton was abroad, still their depredations were as great,
and the terror which their presence inspired just as all-pervading,
as during the previous years. In Virginia, they did
not appear by a month so early as usual, but when commenced
their operations were quite as extensive. Anticipating increased
danger, the settlers on Hacker's creek all removed
with their families to the neighboring forts, and placed themselves
in proper condition for meeting and resisting the
enemy in any number that might come. Several new forts
had, in the meantime, arisen; and therefore, when the campaign
fairly opened, the settlers were better prepared to
encounter their fierce adversaries than ever before. The
extreme frontier people had also been busy. Many new stockades
were erected, and the old ones repaired. Tomlinson's,
at Grave creek, which had been abandoned in 1777, was
re-fitted and occupied; Shepherd's, at the forks of Wheeling,
which the Indians had burned, was re-built, with many others
along the populated vallies in the neighborhood of Wheeling.

MORGAN'S RENCONTRE.

One of the most remarkable instances of personal heroism
in the history of the West, is that of the celebrated combat
between David Morgan and two Indians. Other instances,
exhibiting equal success with even greater disparity of numbers,
are upon record; but in none do we find more of true
courage, energy, and intrepidity, than in this unequal contest
between a man of advanced years and feeble health,
struggling with, and finally vanquishing both his powerful
adversaries. The settlements along the upper Monongahela,

which had suffered so severely during the preceding fall, had
not as yet been disturbed by the enemy, and many imagined
that there was to be no repetition of them, at least during the
present season. They however, still remained shut up in
their block-houses, and rarely ventured far without appropriate
means of defence. Of those who removed with their
families to Prickett's fort,[18] was David Morgan, one of the
earliest settlers on the frontier, and a man of great energy of
character, and of sterling worth. He was a near relative of
General Morgan of Revolutionary memory, and like that distinguished
officer, possessed, in a remarkable degree, courage
and capacity for almost any emergency.

At the time of which we speak, Mr. Morgan was upwards
of sixty years of age, and for some days had been slightly
indisposed. Early in April, he desired two of his children,
Stephen,[19] sixteen years of age, and Sarah, about fourteen, to
feed the stock at his farm, distant about one mile, and on the
opposite side of the river. This he did, in consequence of
feeling worse that morning than usual. No Indians had yet
been seen in the neighborhood, and of course he considered
all perfectly safe.

As the weather was fine, the brother and sister concluded
to remain and prepare a piece of ground for melons. Soon
after they left the fort, Mr. Morgan lay down, and shortly
falling to sleep, dreamed that he saw the children walking
before him, scalped. This vision awoke him, and finding,
upon inquiry, that the children had not returned, he became
uneasy, and started immediately in hunt of them. Approaching
the premises, he beheld his children busily engaged in the
manner already indicated.

Seating himself upon a log close at hand, Morgan watched

his children for some time, when suddenly he saw emerge
from the house two Indians, who moved rapidly up toward
Stephen and his sister. Fearing to alarm the children, Morgan
cautiously warned them of their danger, and told them
to go at once to the fort. They instantly obeyed, and the
Indians, discovering their movements, gave their accustomed
whoop, and started in pursuit. Morgan, having hitherto
escaped their attention, now arose, and returning their shout,
caused the savages to seek behind trees instant protection.

Knowing that the chances of a fair fight were almost hopeless,
Morgan thought to escape by running, and so manage as
to keep the trees between himself and the enemy. In this,
however, he was mistaken; impaired health, and the infirmities
of age disabled him from keeping long beyond the reach
of the fleet and athletic warriors. Finding, after a run of
some two hundred yards, that the savages were rapidly gaining
on him, he determined to shoot one, and take his chance
with the other. Turning to fire, both Indians sprung behind
trees, and Morgan did the same; but finding the one he first
gained too small to protect his person, he quitted it and made
for another, which was reached in safety.

One of the Indians, hoping to get nearer his intended victim,
ran to the tree which Morgan had left, but finding it too
small, threw himself behind a log close at hand. This, however,
did not conceal him entirely, which Morgan noticing,
instantly fired, and shot the savage through the part exposed.
Feeling himself mortally wounded, with more than Spartan
fortitude, he drew his knife, and inflicted two deep stabs upon
his breast. To him death had no fears, save as dealt by the
hand of his white antagonist.

The heroic old man, having thus effectually disposed of one
of his pursuers, again resorted to flight. The chances were
now desperate, as the Indian had the double advantage of
tomahawk and rifle. Running fifty or sixty yards, he glanced
hurriedly over his shoulder, just in time to see the savage
ready to fire. Jumping to one side, the ball passed harmlessly

by, and the two now felt that the combat must be brought to
close quarters. With all the fury of his nature, the savage
rushed upon his adversary with loud yells and uplifted tomahawk.
Morgan prepared to meet him with his gun, but the
savage aimed a blow with his tomahawk, with such force and
effect as to knock the rifle from Morgan's grasp, and cut
two of the fingers from his left hand. They now clinched,
and the combat became equal, except the savage was the
younger and much more powerful of the two. Frantic at the
loss of his companion, and his own ill-success, he fought with
a desperation rarely known in single combat; Morgan, on
the other part, inspirited by the success which had thus far
attended him, nerved his arm, and strung every muscle to the
conflict, resolved to kill his combatant, or sell his own life as
dearly as possible. Our hero, in his younger days, had been
a most expert wrestler, and was thus enabled with ease to
throw the Indian; but the latter, more active and powerful,
readily turned him. With a yell of exultation, the savage
now held his adversary down, and began to feel for his knife.
Morgan saw the movement, and well knew all would be over
if the savage got possession of it.

The Indian was prevented getting the knife by a woman's
apron, which he had wrapped around his body in such a manner
as to confine the handle. Whilst endeavoring to extricate it,
Morgan got one of the Indian's thumbs between his teeth, and so
firmly did he hold it, and effectually grind it, that the poor wretch
was sadly disconcerted, and more than once screamed with
pain. Finally, he grasped his knife, but so close to the blade,
that Morgan noticing it, caught the end of the handle, and
drew it quickly through the Indian's hand, cutting it severely.
The savage was now literally hors de combat, and springing to
his feet, endeavored to get away; but the resolute Morgan, not
yet having done with him, held on to the thumb, until he had
inflicted a mortal thrust in the side of his enemy. Letting go,
the Indian sank almost lifeless to the ground, and Morgan
made his way to the fort. Before reaching the river, he overtook

his children. After hearing his adventure, a party of
men left the fort, and proceeded to the place of conflict. On
reaching the spot, nothing was to be seen of the wounded
Indian; but his trail of blood indicated the place of his
concealment. The poor creature had taken the knife from
his side, bound up the wound with the apron already alluded
to, and as the whites approached him, he feelingly accosted
them, with "How do do, broder?" What followed, we would,
for the sake of our common humanity, fain screen; but, as the
facts have often been published, and the whole affair has
become matter of history, we can see no propriety in withholding
any part now.

"How do do, broder?" met with no fraternal response from
the party who discovered his retreat. He was immediately
dispatched; and not satisfied with that, himself and companion
were both scalped, and then flayed. Their skins were afterwards
tanned and made into shot-pouches, belts, razor-straps,
&c. Human nature revolts at the contemplation of such acts
of wanton barbarity. The impression has hitherto prevailed
that Morgan was one of this party. This, we are assured, is
not the fact. He was too much exhausted from loss of blood,
and the severe personal conflict, to go out with the men, and
of course could not have participated.

AFFAIR AT MARTIN'S FORT.

In June of this year, the humble structure known as Martin's
fort, which stood on Crooked run, was the scene of a
painful and bloody affair.

On the morning of the attack, most of the men went, as
usual, to their respective improvements in the neighborhood.
Those who remained, not apprehending an attack, were
leisurely engaged outside of the fort, while the women were
occupied in milking the cows. A party of Shawanese, who
had lain in wait, embraced the favorable opportunity, and

rushing upon the whites, killed three men, and made prisoners
of seven others. Peter Croase, James Stuart, and James
Smalley were the men killed.

Soon after this occurrence, a small party of Indians appeared
on Pike run, a tributary to the Monongahela, below Brownsville,
and surprised two daughters of Capt. David Scott, who
were carrying dinner to some men mowing a meadow, not far
from their father's house. The younger, an interesting and
beautiful girl, was killed on the spot, as she made some
resistance, but her sister was carried into captivity. The
murdered sister was not found for several days, and when
discovered, presented a most horrible spectacle. Voracious
birds had so preyed upon her that she was but with difficulty
recognized.

About the last of September, Nathaniel Davisson and his
younger brother, living in the vicinity of Clarksburgh, started
upon a hunting expedition on the waters of Ten-mile. Hunting
separately, as was the custom, Josiah returned to camp
at an hour designated for meeting there, but not finding his
brother, and after waiting some time, feeling uneasy about
his safety, determined to search for him. Unable to see or
hear any thing, the other returned home, and prevailed upon
several of his neighbors to aid in endeavoring to ascertain
his fate. Their search was alike unavailing. In the following
March, his remains were found by John Read, while hunting.
He had been shot and scalped; and notwithstanding he had
lain out nearly six months, yet he was but little torn by wild
beasts, and easily recognized.

Tygart's Valley settlement, which had escaped a savage
visitation in 1778, was not to be so exempt during the present
year. In October, a party of Indians lying in ambush near the
road, fired at Lieut. John White, who was riding by, but with
no other effect than wounding his horse, and causing him to
throw his rider. This was fatal to White, as the ground was
open, and he was soon shot, tomahawked and scalped.

So soon as this event was made known, Capt. Benjamin
Wilson raised a company, and proceeding by forced marches
to the Indian crossing at the mouth of the Sandy fork of
Little Kanhawa, he remained there nearly three days with a
view to intercept the retreat of the savages. They, however,
returned by another rout, and thus his scheme of cutting them
off failed.

Some time after this, several families in the Buchanan
settlement, left the fort and returned to their homes, under
the belief that the season had advanced too far, for the
Indians again to come among them. But in this they were
deceived. The men being all assembled at the fort, for
the purpose of electing a captain, some Indians fell upon the
family of John Schoolcraft, and killed the women and eight
children,—two little boys only were taken prisoners. A small
girl, who had been scalped and tomahawked, a portion of her
brains coming from her head, was found the next day alive.

The last mischief done this fall, was perpetrated at the
house of Samuel Cottrial, near the present town of Clarksburgh.
During the night, considerable fear was excited, both
at Cottrial's and at Sotha Hickman's, on the opposite side
of Elk creek, by the continued barking of dogs. Cottrial,
on going to bed, secured well the doors, and directed that no
one should stir out in the morning until it was ascertained
that no danger threatened. Just before day, Cottrial being
asleep, Moses Coleman, who lived with him, got up, shelled
some corn, and giving a few ears to Cottrial's nephew, with
directions to feed the pigs around the yard, went himself
to an adjoining building and commenced grinding. A single
Indian, one of a party who had lain secreted during the night,
made his appearance, and first catching the boy, fired and
killed Coleman. Running to scalp his victim, the little fellow
made good his escape. The other Indians went off without
doing further injury.

The above, for which we are indebted to the interesting
local history of that region, was followed by numerous other

cases of savage cruelty, occurring towards the close of the
season of 1779. We regret that our want of room will not
allow more copious extracts at the present time.

1781.

Many depredations were committed during this year on the
frontiers of Virginia and Pennsylvania, and it was perhaps
mainly to these circumstances that the unfortunate Moravian
Indians owe their destruction.

Early in February, a party of Delawares entered the settlement
on the waters of Raccoon creek, Washington county,
near the present town of Florence, and after committing
several acts of violence, made an attack upon the house of
Robert Wallace, during his absence from home, making prisoners
of Mrs. W., her little son Robert, two-and-a-half years
old, another son ten years old, and an infant daughter, also
a man named John Carpenter. With their prisoners, and
what plunder they could carry off, the savages made their way
toward the Ohio; but finding Mrs. Wallace and her infant
somewhat troublesome, they were tomahawked and scalped.
The two boys were carried to Sandusky, where the elder died.
Robert was then sold to the Wyandotts, by whom he was held
in captivity about two and a half years. His father hearing
of him, sent a man to the Wyandott towns, giving him a
certain mark by which the boy could be recognized, and in
this way he was rescued, and restored to his friends. He is
now living on Raccoon creek, a stout, hearty old man, and
bears in distinct recollection the trials, hardships, and privations
of his captivity. He thinks his mother and little sister
were killed near where Georgetown now stands. About three
years subsequent to their captivity, the husband was informed
that the remains of a woman and child had been discovered
near the place designated. He repaired to the spot, and upon
examination recognized the remains as those of his murdered

wife and child. They were collected and buried at King's
creek Meeting-house.

The clothing of Mrs. Wallace, which were found at the
Moravian towns, called down the vengeance of Colonel Williamson's
men upon that devoted people.

MURDER OF CAPTAIN THOMAS AND FAMILY.

On the night of the 5th of March, a party of Indians came
to the house of Capt. John Thomas, on Booth's creek, one of
the branches of the Monongahela. Capt. Thomas was a man
of much piety, and what was perhaps unusual in the early
days of our Republic, had regular family devotion. It was
whilst thus engaged, surrounded by his wife and seven children,
that the Indians approached his cabin. The settlement
had felt no apprehension as yet of Indian depredation, as the
season had not sufficiently advanced to cause alarm. Anticipating
no attack, Capt. Thomas was therefore not prepared,
and his house not so well secured as was his custom. He had
just repeated the line of the hymn,

as the Indians approached and fired. The christian father
fell dead at the moment, and a band of savages forcing the
door, entered and commenced the work of death. Mrs. Thomas
implored their mercy for herself and children; but, alas! the
savage knows no mercy for feeble woman or helpless infancy.
The tomahawk did its work, until the mother and six children
lay weltering in blood, by the side of the slaughtered father.
They then proceeded to scalp the fallen, and plunder the
house, and then departed, taking with them one little boy, a
prisoner.

"Elizabeth Juggins, (daughter of John Juggins, who had
been murdered in that neighborhood, the preceding year) was
at the house of Capt. Thomas, when the Indians came, but as

soon as she heard the report of the gun and saw Capt. Thomas
fall, she threw herself under the bed, and escaped observation
of the savages. After they had completed the work
of blood and left the house, fearing that they might be lingering
near, she remained in that situation until the house
was found on fire. When she crawled forth from her asylum,
Mrs. Thomas was still alive, though unable to move; and
casting a pitying glance towards her murdered infant, asked
that it might be handed to her. Upon seeing Miss Juggins
about to leave the house, she exclaimed, "Oh, Betsey, do not
leave us!" Still anxious for her own safety, the girl rushed
out, and taking refuge for the night between two logs, in the
morning early, spread the alarm.

"When the scene of these enormities was visited, Mrs.
Thomas was found in the yard, much managled by the tomahawk
and considerably torn by hogs—she had, perhaps in
the struggle of death, thrown herself out at the door. The
house, together with Captain Thomas and the children, was a
heap of ashes."

The fate of this pious family is but one in the long catalogue
of bloody doings which mark the pages of our western
history. It required a christian's heart, and the christian's
hope, to live amid such scenes unmoved and unawed. Who
can contemplate the fate of that unfortunate family without
emotions of poignant sorrow. How happy was the morning
which dawned upon them, but, alas, how terrible the evening!

In April of this year, three brothers, Mathias, Simon and
Michael Schoolcraft, left Buchanan's Fort, and went to the
head of Stone-coal creek, for the purpose of hunting. On
their way back, a party of Indians fired upon them, killing
the first-named brother, and taking the others prisoners.
These, with other members of the family previously taken
never returned. A singular fatality seemed to attend this
family. The three brothers whose names we have just given,

constituted the last of fifteen, who either fell before the rifle
or tomahawk, or suffered, perhaps, a more dreadful fate in
the hands of their captors.

The founder of this Virginia branch of the Schoolcraft
family, was one of the earliest settlers on the upper Monongahela.
He emigrated from central New York, mainly
induced by the prospect of acquiring for a large family,
suitable landed properties. Unfortunately, his family early
fell a prey to the relentless and ever vigilant savage. The
founder of the Virginia family was, we believe, distantly
connected with the distinguished author, Henry R. School-craft,
whose magnificent work just issued[20] (1851) is alike
creditable to himself, the government (by whose munificence
it has been published,) and the cause of American literature.
It seems not a little remarkable, that while one member of the
family branch should have been devoting almost his whole
life to studying means for bettering and promoting the condition
of the Indians, members of another branch, and they
constituting a numerous family, should have been totally
exterminated by the same savage hands.

MEDITATED ATTACK ON WHEELING.

In September of this year, occurred what may be called
the second attempt upon Wheeling.

Fortunately, the purpose of the Indians was frustrated by
the timely information communicated by Colonel Brodhead,
then commanding the western division of the army. The
despatch of Colonel B. was as follows:—

This information, as may well be supposed, startled the
inhabitants at Wheeling; but, not unmindful of the notice,
they put themselves in readiness to meet and resist any attack
the enemy might make. The fort was immediately placed in
proper condition for defence, and nothing left undone to
ensure their safety.

About ten days after the reception of the despatch of Col.
Brodhead, a party of over one hundred Indians suddenly
appeared in the vicinity of the fort. The first intimation
those within the stockade had of the presence of the enemy,
was by a boy named George Reikart, reaching the fort almost
exhausted, who stated that a large party of Indians were at
the spring, (near the hill,) and that they had killed his companion,
John Ryan, and taken David Glenn prisoner.

The approach of the Indians had been so sudden and noiseless,
that Ryan was shot down, and Glenn taken prisoner, but
Reikart, who was some distance off, gathering walnuts, escaped.
Just as he entered the fort-gate, a rifle-ball struck him on the
wrist.

In a moment, those within were ready to receive them; but,
it is supposed, that the savages, from information of Glenn,
anticipated a warm reception, and deemed it better valor to
make off at once. This they did, after demanding in a pompous

manner, the surrender of the fort, which request the inmates
very politely declined acceding to.

Thus, owing to the timely information of Col. Brodhead,
the settlement at Wheeling was, doubtless, saved from what
might have been a bloody visitation.

MURDER AT LINK'S BLOCK-HOUSE.

Of the many primitive places of defence which sprung up
at an early day in the forests of North-western Virginia, was
that of Link's block-house, on middle Wheeling creek. It
was built by Jonathan Link, in 1780, and served to shelter
the defenceless settlers of the neighborhood. This rude
structure stood a few miles from the present town of Triadelphia,
and early became the scene of a bloody occurrence.

In the fall of 1781, a party of fifteen or twenty Indians,
returning from an excursion to the interior, made an attack
upon this block-house so suddenly, that Link and two of his
men were instantly killed, and several taken prisoners. The
men had been at a shooting match, and it is supposed may
have indulged rather too freely to present a vigorous defence.

Of those taken prisoner, was William Hawkins, who lived
within a few miles,[21] but who had gone to attend the shooting
match. Hawkins told the Indians, if they did not kill him
he would go quietly to his house. This they agreed to, but
his family hearing their approach, (Hawkins spoke loud so as
to give the alarm,) secreted themselves in time. A daughter,
however, was discovered and taken prisoner, and another
member of the family killed.

The savages, after plundering the house, marched their
prisoners in front, and proceeding a mile or two, ordered the

daughter on ahead. They then took Hawkins and another
prisoner, named Presly Peak, to the summit of a ridge, tied
them to separate trees, and tomahawked them.

1782.

This was a fatal and trying year to the frontier settlements
of Virginia. The enemy were early in the field, and almost
ceaseless in their attacks upon the comparatively defenceless
inhabitants. The expeditions of Williamson, Crawford, &c.,
seemed but to arouse the savages to increased acts of barbarity.
They penetrated some distance to the interior, and
waged their ruthless and indiscriminating warfare with an
energy and ferocity rarely equalled.

Family after family fell before their approach, until the
whole country became aroused to the extent of their depredations.
Their blows fell with particular severity upon the
settlements along the upper Monongahela.

In the neighborhood of Clarksburgh many acts of hostility
were committed, which greatly alarmed the adjacent settlements.

The following, which we extract from Mr. Withers' sketches,
cannot but be interesting to most readers of western history.
We much regret the instance of human depravity which it
details; but for the credit of our nature, we can say, such
instances were very rare in the early days of the west.

"On the 8th of March, as William White, Timothy Dorman
and his wife, were going to, and within sight of Buchanan
fort, some guns were discharged at them, and White being
shot through the hips, fell from his horse, and was then tomahawked,
scalped and mutilated in the most frightful manner.
Dorman and his wife were taken prisoners. The people in
the fort heard the firing, and flew to arms; but the river intervening,
the savages cleared themselves before the whites
crossed over.

"After the death of White (one of their most active, cautious,

and vigilant spies) and the capture of Dorman, it was
resolved to abandon the fort, and seek elsewhere security
from the greater ills which it was found would befall them if
they remained. This apprehension arose from the fact, that
Dorman was then with the savages, and that to gratify his
enmity to particular individuals in the settlement, he would
unite with the Indians, and from his knowledge of the country,
be enabled to conduct them the more securely to blood
and plunder. He was a man of a sanguinary and revengeful
disposition, prone to quarrelling, and had been known to say
that if he caught particular individuals with whom he was at
variance, in the woods alone, he would murder them and attribute
it to the savages. The fearful apprehensions of increased
and aggravated injuries after taking him prisoner, were well
founded. Subsequent events fully proved, that but for the
evacuation of the fort, and the removal of the inhabitants,
all would have fallen before the fury of savage warriors, with
this white miscreant at their head.

"While some of the inhabitants of that settlement were engaged
in moving their property to a fort in Tygart's valley
(the others moving to Nutter's fort and Clarksburg), they were
fired upon by a party of savages, and two of them, Michael
Hagle and Elias Paynter, fell. The horse which a man named
Bush rode, was shot through; yet Bush succeeded in extricating
himself, and escaped, though closely pursued by one of
the savages. Several times the Indian following him, called
out, "Stop, and you shall not be hurt. If you do not, I will
shoot you!" and once, Bush, nearly exhausted and in despair
of getting off, actually relaxed his pace for the purpose of
yielding himself a prisoner, when turning round he saw the
savage stop, and commence loading his gun. This inspired
Bush with fear for the consequences, and renewing his
flight, finally escaped. Edward Tanner, a youth, was taken
prisoner, and in going to their towns, met between twenty and
thirty savages, headed by Timothy Dorman, proceeding to
attack Buchanan fort. Learning from him that the inhabitants

were moving from it, and that it would be abandoned in a few
days, the Indians pursued their journey with so much haste,
that Dorman had well nigh failed from fatigue. They arrived,
however, too late for the accomplishment of their bloody
purpose; the settlement had been deserted, and the inhabitants
were safe within the walls of other forts.

"A few days after the evacuation of Buchanan fort, some of
its former inmates went from Clarksburg for grain which had
been left at Buchanan. They found a heap of ashes where
the fort had stood, and other signs convinced them that the
savages were yet lurking about. They, however, continued
to go from farm to farm collecting the grain, but with the
utmost vigilance, and at night went to an out-house, near
where the fort had stood. Here they found a paper, with the
name of Timothy Dorman attached to it, dated at the Indian
towns, and containing information of those who had been
taken captive in that part of Virginia.

"Early in the morning, as some of the men went from
the house to mill, they saw the savages crossing the river,
Dorman being with them. Thinking it best to impress them
with a belief that they were able to encounter them in open
conflict, the men advanced towards the foe, calling to their
companions in the house, to come on. The Indians fled hastily
to the woods, and the whites, not so rash as to pursue them,
returned to the house, and secured themselves in it, as well as
they could. At night, Capt. George Jackson went privately
from the house, and at great hazard of being discovered,
proceeded to Clarksburg, and obtained such aid as enabled
him to escort his companions in safety to that place.

"Disappointed in their hopes of involving the inhabitants of
Buchanan settlement in destruction, the savages went on to
the Valley. Between Westfall's and Wilson's forts, they came
upon John Bush and his wife, Jacob Stalnaker and his son
Adam. The latter were riding in the rear of Bush and his
wife; Adam was killed. The old gentleman rode briskly on,
but some of the savages were before, and endeavored to catch

his bridle-reins. He, however, escaped in safety. The horse
from which Adam Stalnaker had fallen, was caught by Bush,
and both he and Mrs. Bush got safely away on him."

SECOND SIEGE OF FORT HENRY.

The last beleaguerment of the fort at Wheeling, was
certainly one of the most important events in the settlement
of the north-west,—one, upon which it may emphatically be
said, the very existence of the frontier of Virginia depended.

On the eleventh day of September, 1782, a body of three
hundred and fifty Indians and whites; the former, Shawanese
and Delawares, under the command of George Girty,[22]
and the latter, a company known as the "Queen's Rangers,"
commanded by Captain Pratt, made their appearance in
front of the little stockade at Wheeling, and peremptorily
demanded a surrender. The besiegers marched up in regular
file, headed by a fife and drum,[23] with the British flag flying
over them.

Girty, upon whom the whole command devolved, defiled his
men by the spring near where the market-house now stands,
and in the name of the British Governor demanded a surrender.
He promised to all who would give up, "the best protection
King George could afford." To this, the brave and
dauntless inmates of the fort returned contemptuous answers,
and defied the savages, both white and red, to do their worst.

Girty, deeming it imprudent to commence the attack in
daylight, kept his men at a convenient distance until nightfall.

The conversation, however, was continued between the
besieged and besiegers, the former delighting to load the
renegade with the most opprobrious epithets. Shots were
occasionally fired at him, but the distance was too great for
effect.

Fortunately for the inmates, that the attack had not commenced
half an hour earlier. For some days previous to the
appearance of the savages, scouts had been across the Ohio,
but discovering no traces of the enemy, returned on the
afternoon of Saturday, and reported accordingly. This news
had the effect of lulling the inmates into a feeling of security,
so that it was scarcely deemed necessary to fasten the gates
at night.

A day or two previous to the time of which we write,
Andrew Zane had gone to Catfish, for a supply of liquor.
Returning with two kegs, (one in each end of a bag,) he discovered,
as he supposed, when near the present site of Mount
Wood Cemetery, indications of Indians. Concealing his kegs,
he hurried to the fort with all haste, and gave the alarm. Those
who had just returned from the Indian country, laughed at
his fears, but most of the men said they would go along, and
have a "spree."

Nearly the whole efficient force of the garrison accompanied
Zane, and finding no Indians, repaired to the spring already
alluded to, and there treated themselves to a glorious "blow
out." Before starting with Zane, it was deemed advisable,
with the characteristic caution of experienced frontiermen, to
send across the river two spies, who might give the alarm in
case of danger.[24] As the party at the spring were busy with
their "grog," the alarm guns of the scouts were fired on the
island, and at the same moment, a large body of Indians were
crossing the creek, just above back-water. A simultaneous
rush was made for the fort; and scarcely had the last man

entered, when the Indians appeared in large numbers crossing
the bottom.

All at once became activity and bustle within the fort.
The men prepared for an energetic defence, each arming
himself with a rifle, tomahawk, scalping knife and spear.
The women were busy in running bullets, securing the children,
etc. The whole number of fighting men within the
stockade did not exceed eighteen, while the number of women
and children was about forty. (See Note D., end Chap. I.)

Shortly before the enemy appeared, a pirogue loaded with
cannon-balls, designed for Gen. Clark, at Louisville, in charge
of a man named Sullivan, and two others, landed at Wheeling,
to remain over night. Sullivan was a shrewd and experienced
soldier, well versed in Indian cunning; and on this account
was selected to manage the affairs of the fort during the
siege, as the commandant, Captain Boggs, had gone for
succor immediately on the alarm of the enemy's approach.
Sullivan was a man of discrimination and courage, and well
qualified for the post of commander. His shrill voice could
be heard at all hours, urging on the men, and consoling the
women. But at length he was wounded, and for a time had to
give way.

About sundown, Girty made a second demand for surrender,
declaring that should be his last summons, and swearing, if
they refused, that the fort would be stormed, and every soul
massacred. He was answered by taunts of defiance; said
they remembered too well the fate of Col. Crawford, to give
up, and be butchered like dogs. Girty replied, that their
doom was sealed—he had taken their express, and all hope
of safety might be given up. Sullivan inquired what kind of
looking man the messenger was? "A fine, smart, active young
fellow," answered the outlaw chief. "That's a d—d lie,"
said Sullivan, "he is an old gray-headed man."

Finding all attempts to intimidate in vain, Girty led on his
white and red army of savages, and attempted to carry out
his threat of storming the fort.

Near the centre of the stockade, and at a point sufficiently
elevated to clear the pickets, was a small French cannon,[25]
which the enemy could at times see, but which they tauntingly
said was "wood,"[26] and dared them to "shoot." Having approached
within a convenient distance, and just as the whole
party was pressing up in deep columns, the "bull-dog" was
let off, cutting a wide passage through the ranks of wondering
and affrighted savages. Captain Pratt, who had heard guns,
and knew how they sounded, cried out to his swarthy comrades,
"Stand back; by G—, there's no wood about that!"

The Indians and the "Rangers" gave way at the first
discharge, but soon rallied and returned. Girty divided his
force into small parties, and attacked the fort at different
points; now attempting to storm it; and again to fire it.
In this manner the siege was kept up during the whole
night; and but few such nights were ever passed upon the
frontier.

One of the bastions having given way, but two were of
use, and these the men occupied in turn. The women, during
the whole of that long and perilous night, proved themselves
heroines of no ordinary type. They stood at their posts like
soldiers of a dozen campaigns, cooling and loading the rifles
of their husbands, brothers, and lovers. Such women were
worthy the love and devotion of men like these. No timid
shrieks escaped them; no maidenly fears caused them to
shrink from their self-imposed and most onerous task. Such
were the pioneer mothers of the west—women whose souls
and bodies were so sorely tried in the fierce fire of our Indian
wars. Through the whole of that long and terrible night,
without food and without rest, did these brave and noble

women stand to their duty, regardless of fatigue, but nerving
their hearts to the contest, and animating the men with hope
and courage. The Greek matron, who urged her son to the
conflict, charging him to return with his shield or upon it,
displayed no more zeal, devotion, and true courage, than these
hero-women of the west. History is full of examples of female
heroism. Israel had her Judith and Deborah; France glories
in her Joan and Lavalette;—two of them unsexed themselves
in the excitement of battle; one ingloriously stained her
hands in human gore, and the other had nothing to lose by
her successful efforts; but the western heroines, without the
eclat of female warriors, displayed more true courage throughout
the long and stormy days of our Indian warfare, and exhibited
more of the true spirit of heroism, than any example
in ancient or modern history.

At an early hour in the evening, the Indians descried the
pirogue already referred to, and at once resolved to try the
sport of cannonading. Procuring a stout log of sufficient size
and length, these simple-minded men split it open, and having
cut out the centre with their tomahawks, fastened the parts
together with iron bands, and chains, found in a smith-shop
belonging to a man named Reikart. They then charged it
heavily with powder and ball, and first announcing that their
artillery had arrived, applied the torch, when instantaneously
a half-dozen of the gaping savages, who had clustered around
to witness the discharge, were blown into eternity. Their
frail gun had bursted, scattering death and consternation all
around.

During the night, a large number of Indians posted themselves
in the loft of a house which stood thirty or forty yards
north of the fort. These amused themselves by dancing,
shouting, and yelling, making night hideous with their horrid
noise. Thinking to dislodge them, several ineffectual attempts
were made to do so with grape shot; but failing, a full-sized
ball was fired, which cut off a sleeper, and let the whole

mass down together. This disaster frightened the assailants
off for a time.

The cannon was fired sixteen times during the first night,
doing more or less execution at each discharge. It was managed
by a man named John Tait, shortly afterwards killed
and partly eaten by the savages, on Dillie's bottom, opposite
Grave creek.[27]

At the time of the Indian visitation in 1777, it will be
remembered, they burned all the houses, killed the cattle,
etc. Similar outrages were again attempted in 1781, and
then Colonel Ebenezer Zane resolved, that should the savages
again visit the settlement, he would remain in his house and
perish, sooner than abandon it to the torch of the enemy. On
the re-appearance of the Indians, Colonel Zane continued at
his house, and declared his fixed determination to defend it
to the last. In the house with him were several members of
his family, including his brother Silas. There were also two
brothers by the name of Green, and a black servant, by the
name of Sam. So constantly did these four keep up the fire
against the enemy, that they were slow to approach within
range of the guns.[28]

The fortunes of the night were often variable. The enemy
at one time appeared to have the vantage, but again, their
schemes were frustrated by the energy and skill of those
within the fort. More than twenty times did they attempt to
fire the stockade, by heaping bundles of hemp against the
walls, and kindling them at different points. Most fortunately,
however, the hemp was wet, and could not be made to burn.
Dry wood and other combustibles were tried, but all in vain.
Day at length dawned upon the hopes of that almost despairing
people; and never did Aurora display her beauties to a
more admiring or a more rejoicing group. The night had
been long, and full of gloomy terror. They knew not at what
moment the formidable enemy would crush the walls of their
frail enclosure;[29] but come what might, they resolved to stand
firm to the last.

Immediately after day-break the Indians and British withdrew
to the spring, and a cessation of hostilities for several
hours ensued.

It was about noon of this day that an incident occurred
which has been the theme of history, poetry and romance.
We allude to the "gunpowder exploit," as it is familiarly
known in border story.

As we have already stated, Colonel Zane remained in his
cabin near the fort,[30] during the whole siege. Finding that
his supply of powder was likely to run out, he proposed to
those present, that some one of them would have to visit the
fort and renew the stock. It was known to be a hazardous
undertaking, and unwilling to order either of the white men
to so perilous an enterprise, Colonel Zane submitted the

matter to their own devotion and courage. One of them
instantly proffered his services, but a female member of Col.
Zane's family came forward and said, "No! I will go;
should I be killed, I can be better spared than one of these
men." That woman, according to the traditionary accounts
of the country, was Elizabeth Zane, sister to Colonel Zane.[31]
She is represented to have been a young woman of great
resolution and much energy of character, and those who
knew her intimately say unhesitatingly, that she was just the
person for such an exploit. Preparing herself for the feat,
the intrepid girl stepped from the cabin and bounded to the
fort with the speed of a deer. A number of Indians concealed
in the neighborhood, saw her emerge from the cabin,
but did not attempt to shoot, only exclaiming with contemptuous
epithets, "Squaw, squaw." She reached the fort,
and tying about her person eight or ten pounds of powder,
again ventured forth and moved rapidly towards the cabin of
Colonel Zane. Suspecting all was not right, the savages
opened upon her a volley of rifle balls, but unscathed, the
courageous girl bounded into the arms of those who stood
ready to receive her.

That act of the heroic and single-hearted female saved the
inmates of Colonel Zane's house from certain destruction.
Their ammunition had been exhausted, and every soul would
have fallen a sure prey to the fury of the savages, had not
a supply been obtained.

Night closing in, the enemy renewed the attack, and
maintained it without intermission until daybreak.

Shortly after sunrise, the enemy despairing of success,
commenced killing the cattle, burning the vacant cabins, &c.

About ten o'clock A.M., an Indian spy, who had been sent
out to watch the approach of a relief, returned, and when
within sight of the fort, gave a long, deep, peculiar whoop,
which the well-trained Indian hunters fully understood as a
signal to be off. Scarcely had the echoes of his shout ceased
reverberating along the valley than the entire hostile army
moved rapidly toward the river, which they crossed near
where the North-Western Bank now stands. In less than
half an hour after their retreat, Captain Williamson with
seventy mounted men rode up to the fort, and great was the
rejoicing at the appearance of his gallant band. Thus ended
the final investment of Fort Henry. The Indians never
again attempted to molest it, but gave the place as wide a
latitude as convenient in their expeditions against the back
settlements.

RICE'S FORT ATTACKED.

After raising the siege at Wheeling, a division of the
enemy visited the settlements on Short and Buffalo creeks,
but the people had all taken the precaution to shut themselves
up in block-houses. Determined, however, to effect a massacre
somewhere, out of revenge for their failure at Fort
Wheeling, the party made a descent upon Rice's Fort.[32] Information

had luckily reached the inmates of the Indians'
design, and they were prepared for them. The Indians
surrounded the fort and demanded a surrender, saying,
"Give up, give up; too many Injun—Injun too big; no
kill." But the sturdy frontiermen thought differently, and
answered with shouts of defiance: "Come on, cowards, we
are ready for you; show us your yellow skins, and we'll make
holes in them for you!" This was what may be considered
brag, however, as the fort was but illy defended, many of
their men having gone to Hagerstown, Md., to exchange
their peltries for ammunition, salt, &c. The savages finding
they could make no impression upon the inmates, withdrew
until nine or ten o'clock at night, when they fired a large and
well filled barn which stood within thirty yards of the fort.
The position of the building and the course of the wind saved
the fort from destruction, and its inmates from massacre.

After the barn was set on fire, the Indians collected on
the side of the fort opposite, so as to have the advantage of
the light, and kept up a pretty constant fire, which was as
steadily answered by those in the fort, until about two o'clock,
when the Indians left the place and made a hasty retreat.

The names of those who defended this little fortress were
Jacob Miller, George Lefler, Peter Fullenweider, Daniel Rice,
George Felebaum and Jacob Lefler, Jr. George Felebaum
was shot in the forehead, through a port-hole, at the second
fire of the Indians, and instantly expired, so that in reality
the defence of the place was made by only five men.

The ascertained loss of the Indians was four, three of
whom were killed at the first fire from the fort, the other
was killed about sundown. There can be no doubt but that
a number more were killed and wounded in the engagement,
but concealed or carried off.

FATE OF THE PIATT FAMILY.

In the year 1782, rumor having reached Dillie's blockhouse,
a small stockade opposite Grave creek, on the farm now
owned by Col. John Thompson, that an attack was meditated
upon Ryerston's station, which was near the line between
Virginia and Pennsylvania, it was deemed expedient to
send a detachment to the relief of the station. During the
absence of the men, a party of Indians took possession of a
corn field near the block-house. The night being extremely
warm, one of the inmates, named Piatt, said he would go and
sleep in the cabin, as he could not endure the fleas. His wife
and five children, went along. The cabin stood about three
hundred yards from the block-house. At the break of day,
the Indians attacked, and murdered every member of that ill-fated
family. A woman at the block-house heard the guns,
and expressed fears that the Indians were attacking the cabin,
but others said it was the men returning from Ryerston's.

The savages soon presented themselves before the blockhouse,
brandishing the bloody scalps of their victims, and
demanded a surrender. Old Mr. Winter tauntingly replied,
they had plenty of men, and would give them cold lead in
abundance if they remained any longer. Fearing they might
meet with warm work, the savages made off without further
delay. There were not six fighting men in the house at that
time.

Early in the fall, a party of Indians came upon the premises
of a man named Yates, living not far from the residence
of the late Colonel Woods, and succeeded in getting between a
young man named Peter Starnator and Yates' house. Starnator
was a few hundred yards in advance when he discovered
the Indians, and finding it unsafe to attempt to
return, started at full speed down the bottom. The savages,
however, proved too fleet for him, as he was overtaken and

shot in the Narrows, near where Mr. Steenrod now lives. The
Indian who killed him was so close that the shot made a hole
in the skull large enough to admit a man's hand.

He was taken to Wheeling, and interred in the old burial
ground, upon which the North-Western Bank now stands.

MURDER OF THE TAIT FAMILY.

During the same fall, another family, named Tait, living
about half a mile below the block-house, was attacked by a
party of Indians, and four of them killed. A son, fifteen
years of age, in attempting to bar the savages out, was
severely wounded by a ball in the mouth. His father at
length was shot down, and the youth secreted himself behind
a barrel. The door was then forced open, and the savages
entered. The father and two small children were immediately
tomahawked and scalped. Mrs. Tait had concealed herself
on the "log pole," but was soon discovered and dispatched.
The cannibals then commenced the revolting work of cutting
pieces from the old man's breasts and thighs, which were
roasted and eaten! During the time they were thus engaged,
the boy managed to drag his mother off the fire without being
noticed.

As many writers have denied the existence of American
cannibalism, it may not be inopportune to cite here some
authority in proof of it. At a recent meeting of the American
Academy of Arts and Sciences, Professor Shepherd, who has
lately spent some time in exploring the mining regions on the
shores of Lake Superior, related an instance of the most
horrible cannibalism among the Ojibbeway tribe of Indians,
on the north shore of the Lake. "He frequently passed on
foot, alone and unarmed, by the hut of an Indian, who had
killed and eaten his wife and two children. The personal
appearance of this savage monster, as might naturally be
supposed, was horrible beyond description."

Another important witness is Hon. Lewis Cass, of Michigan.
In his oration, delivered at Fort Wayne, Indiana, July 4,
1843, on the occasion of celebrating the opening of the Wabash
and Erie canal, the distinguished orator said:

"The line of your canal was a bloody war-path, which has
seen many a deed of horror. And this peaceful town has
had its Moloch, and the records of human depravity furnish
no more horrible examples of cruelty than were offered at his
shrine.

The Miami Indians, our predecessors in the occupation of
this district, had a fearful institution, whose origin and objects
have been lost in the darkness of aboriginal history, but
which continued to a late period, and whose orgies were held
upon the very spot where we now are. It was called the Man-eating
Society, and its was the duty of its associates to eat
such prisoners as were preserved and delivered to them for
that purpose. The members of this society belonged to a
particular family, and the dreadful inheritance descended to
all the children, male and female. The duties it imposed
could not be avoided, and the sanctions of religion were added
to the obligations of immemorable usage. The feast was a
solemn ceremony, at which the whole tribe was collected, as
actors or spectators. The miserable victim was bound to a
stake, and burned at a slow fire, with all the refinements of
cruelty which savage ingenuity could invent. There was a
traditionary ritual, which regulated, with revolting precision,
the whole course of procedure at these ceremonies. Latterly
the authority and obligations of the institution had declined,
and I presume it has now wholly disappeared. But I have
seen and conversed with the head of the family, the chief of
the society, whose name was White Skin. With what feelings
of disgust, I need not attempt to describe. I well knew an
intelligent Canadian, who was present at one of the last sacrifices
made to this horrible institution. The victim was a
young American, captured in Kentucky, during the revolutionary
war. Here, we are now assembled in peace and

security, celebrating the triumph of art and industry. Within
the memory of the present generation, our countrymen have
been thus tortured, and murdered, and devoured. But, thank
God, that council fire is extinguished. The impious feast is
over."

DEATH OF HUGH CAMERON.

In February of this year, a man named Hugh Cameron,
in company with another person, both of whom had been
employed by Captain Boggs, (living at that time on his farm
near the mouth of Boggs' run,) went out to the camp, which
was a short distance from the house, to boil sugar. Although
so early in the season, the Indians had commenced their
depredations, and Captain B., a few days previously, removed
his family to the fort at Wheeling. Cameron and his companion
had been cautioned by Captain B. and others to be
on their guard, and that one should watch while the other
slept. The men, however, as was too often the case in those
days, disregarded the admonition, and one of them at least
paid for the temerity with his life.

At night, the savages stole upon their tent and killed
Cameron, but in the darkness his companion escaped. The
remains of the unfortunate man were found some years after,
those of the body lying near the mouth of Boggs' run, and
the skull half a mile up that stream, carried there, it was
supposed, by some wild animal: they were identified by a
peculiar tooth.