MURDER OF TWO SISTERS.
Next to the Tush murder, perhaps the most melancholy
occurrence on Wheeling creek, was that of two sisters—the
Misses Crow. The parents of these girls lived about one mile
above the mouth of Dunkard, or lower fork of the creek.
According to the statement of a third sister,
[39]
who was an eyewitness
to the horrid tragedy, and herself almost a victim,
the three left their parents' house for an evening walk along
the deeply shaded banks of that beautiful stream. Their walk
extended over a mile, and they were just turning back, when
suddenly, several Indians sprung from behind a ledge of rock,
and seized all three of the sisters. With scarcely a moment's
interruption, the savages led the captives a short distance up
a small bank, when a halt was called, and a parley took place.
It seems that some of the Indians were in favor of immediate
slaughter, while others were disposed to carry them into
permanent captivity. Unfortunately, the arm of mercy was
powerless. Without a moment's warning, a fierce-looking
savage stepped from the group with elevated tomahawk, and
commenced the work of death. This Indian, in the language
of the surviving sister, "Began to tomahawk one of my
sisters—Susan by name. Susan dodged her head to one
side, the tomahawk taking effect in her neck, cutting the
large neck vein, [jugular] the blood gushing out a yard's
length. The Indian who had her by the hand, jumped back
to avoid the blood. The other Indian then began the work
of death on my sister Mary. I gave a sudden jerk and got
loose from the one that held me, and ran with all speed, and
took up a steep bank, gained the top safe—(but just as I
caught hold of a bush to help myself up, the Indian fired, and
the ball passed through the clump of hair on my head, slightly
breaking the skin;) the Indian taking round, in order to meet
me as I would strike the path that led homeward. But I ran
right from home, and hid myself in the bushes, near the top
of the hill. Presently I saw an Indian passing along the
hill below me; I lay still until he was out of sight; I then
made for home."
[40]
