University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER II.

1783.

MIRACULOUS ESCAPE.

One of the most remarkable escapes upon record, is that of
Thomas Mills. The circumstancese were these. On the 30th
day of July, Mills and two other men, Henry Smith and
Hambleton Kerr,[35] started on a fishing excursion up the river
from Wheeling. When near Glenn's run, a party of Indians,
who had watched the movements of the whites, fired upon
them, killing Smith, and wounding Mills in fourteen places.
He had that many distinct bullet-holes in him, and yet not
one of them was mortal. Kerr escaped. Just before the
attack, Mills and his companions had caught an enormous
cat-fish, (weighing 87 pounds,) and when the men were taken
from the canoe at Wheeling, their appearance was truly
frightful; they were literally covered with blood and sand.
Mills recovered from his wounds, and was recently living on
the Ohio, near Shade river. He was in his time, a most useful
man on the frontier, possessing great experience as a hunter
and scout.

The men were gigging by torchlight, and thus became fair
objects for the aim of the savages.

In the summer of this year, John Nieswanger and Joseph
Heffler, two very efficient spies, started on a hunting expedition
down the Ohio. They were dressed in Indian fashion,
as was often the custom on such occasions, so as the better to
elude detection. They descended the river in a canoe, and
on the evening of the day they left, put into Little Grave
creek. A party of Indians had watched their movements,
and during the night attacked them with fury. Nieswanger
was killed, but his companion succeeded in getting off, with
the loss of two fingers. He escaped to Wheeling, and thence
went to Pittsburgh, to have an operation performed upon his
maimed hand. Returning, and when near the present residence
of Hamilton Woods, he was attacked and killed by the
Indians. While in pursuit of Heffler, at Grave creek, the
canoe floated off, and thus the savages lost the chance of
scalping the unfortunate Nieswanger. Some months afterwards
the canoe was found lodged at the head of Captina
Island, with the remains of the hunter and his gun still in it.

1784 was a year of comparative quiet on the frontier. The
teeaty of peace between the United States and Great Britain
had the effect to restrain the western Indians for the time
being.

1785.

CAPTIVITY OF MRS. CUNNINGHAM.

In the latter part of June, a small party of Indians visited
the house of Edward Cunningham, an enterprising settler on
Bingamon, a branch of West Fork. Thomas Cunningham, a
brother of Edward, lived in a house almost adjoining. The
two families affording thus protection one to the other. At
the time spoken of, Edward and his family were in one cabin,

and the wife of Thomas, with her four children, (her husband
having gone east on a trading expedition) were in the other,
both families eating their dinners, when in stepped before the
astonished mother and children, a huge savage, with drawn
knife and uplifted tomahawk. Conscious of his security with
the mother and children, but fearing danger from Edward
Cunningham, who had seen him enter, the savage quickly
glanced around for some means of escape in an opposite
direction. Edward watched the movements of the savage
through an opening in the wall. In the other house was a
similar hole, (made to introduce light), and through it the
Indian fired, shouting the yell of victory. It was answered
by Edward, who had seen the aim of the savage just in time
to escape,—the bark from the log close to his head was
knocked off by the Indian's ball, and flew in his face. The
Indian seeing that he had missed his object, and observing
an adze in the room, deliberately commenced cutting an
aperture in the back wall, through which he might pass out,
without being exposed to a shot from the other building.

Another of the Indians came into the yard just after the
firing of his companion, but observing Edward's gun pointing
through the port hole, endeavored to retreat out of its range.
Just as he went to spring the fence, a ball struck him, and he
fell forward. It had, however, only fractured his thigh bone,
and he was yet able to get over the fence, and take shelter
behind a quilt suspended on it, before Edward could again load
his gun. Meantime the Indian in the house was engaged in
cutting a hole through the wall, during which Mrs. Cunningham
made no attempt to get out, well aware it would only
draw upon her head the fury of the savage; and that if she
escaped this one, she would most probably be killed by some
of those who were watching outside. She knew, too, it would
be impossible to take the children with her. She trusted to
hope that the one inside would withdraw without molesting
any of them. A few minutes served to convince her of the
hopeless folly of trusting to an Indian's mercy. When the

opening had been made sufficiently large, the savage raised
his tomahawk, sunk it deep into the brains of one of the
children, and throwing the scarcely lifeless body into the back
yard, ordered the mother to follow him. There was no
alternative but death, and she obeyed his order, stepping over
the dead body of one of her children, with an infant in her
arms, and two others screaming by her side. When all were
out he scalped the murdered boy, and setting fire to the house,
retired to an eminence, where two of the savages were with
their wounded companion,—leaving the other two to watch
the opening of Edward Cunningham's door, when the burning
of the house should force the family from their shelter. They
were disappointed in their expectation of that event by the
exertions of Cunningham and his son. When the flame from
the one house communicated to the roof of the other, they
ascended to the loft, threw off the loose boards which covered
it, and extinguished the fire;—the savages shooting at them
all the while; their balls frequently striking close by.

Unable to force out the family of Edward Cunningham,
and despairing of doing further injury, they beat a speedy
retreat. Before leaving, however, the eldest son of Mrs.
Thomas Cunningham was tomahawked and scalped in presence
of the shuddering mother. Her little daughter was next
served in the same way; but, to make the scene still more
tragical, the child was dashed against a tree, and its brains
scattered about. The mother, during the whole of these
bloody acts, stood motionless in grief, and in momentary awe
of meeting a similar fate. But, alas, she was reserved for a
different, and, to a sensitive woman, a far more dreadful fate.
With her helpless babe she was led from this scene of carnage.
The savages carried their wounded companion upon a litter.
Crossing the ridge, they found a cave near Bingamon creek,
in which they secreted themselves until after night, when
some of the party returned to Edward Cunningham's, but not
finding any one at home, fired the house, and made a hasty
retreat towards their own country.

Mrs. Cunningham suffered untold mental and physical
agony during her march to the Indian towns. For ten days
her only nourishment was the head of a wild turkey and a few
paw-paws. After a long absence she was returned to her
husband, through the intercession of Simon Girty, who ransomed
her, and sent her home. This one single act should
redeem his memory from a multitude of sins.

After the savages had withdrawn, Cunningham went with
his family into the woods, where they remained all night, there
being no settlement nearer than ten miles. In the morning the
alarm was given, and a company of men soon collected to go
in pursuit of the Indians. When they came to Cunningham's,
and found both houses heaps of ashes, they buried the bones
of the boy who was murdered in the house, with the bodies of
his brother and little sister, who were killed in the field; but
so cautiously had the savages conducted their retreat, that no
traces of them could be discovered, and the men returned to
their homes.

Subsequently, a second party started in pursuit, and traced
them to the cave; but it was found the enemy had left the
night previous, and all hope of effecting a successful pursuit
was given over. After her return from captivity, Mrs. Cunningham
stated, that at the time of the search on the first day,
the Indians were in the cave, and that several times the whites
approached so near, that she could distinctly hear their voices;
the savages standing with their guns ready to fire, in the
event of being discovered, and forcing her to keep the infant
to her breast, lest its cry might indicate their place of concealment.

CAPTIVITY OF TWO BOYS.

In the spring of this year, the Indians early re-appeared
in the neighborhood of Wheeling. One of their first acts on
Wheeling creek, was the captivity of two boys, John Wetzel,

Jr., and Frederick Erlewyne, the former about sixteen years
of age, and the latter a year or two younger. The boys had
gone from the fort at Shepherd's, for the purpose of catching
horses. One of the stray animals was a mare, with a
young colt, belonging to Wetzel's sister, and she had offered
the foal to John, says the account which we follow, as a
reward for finding the mare. While on this service, they
were captured by a party of four Indians, who, having come
across the horses, had seized and secured them in a thicket,
expecting the bells would attract the notice of their owners,
as they could kill them. The horse was ever a favorite object
of plunder with the savages; as not only facilitating his own
escape from pursuit, but also assisting him in carrying off the
spoil. The boys, hearing the well-known tinkle of the bells,
approached the spot where the Indians lay concealed, congratulating
themselves on their good luck in so readily finding
the strays, when they were immediately seized by the savages.
John, in attempting to escape, was shot through the wrist.
His companion hesitating to go with the Indians, and beginning
to cry, they dispatched him with the tomahawk. John,
who had once before been taken prisoner and escaped, made
light of it, and went along cheerfully with his wounded arm.

The party struck the Ohio river early the following morning,
at a point near the mouth of Grave creek, and just below
the clearing of Mr. Tomlinson.[36] Here they found some hogs,
and killing one of them, put it into a canoe they had stolen.
Three of the Indians took possession of the canoe with
their prisoner, while the other was busied in swimming the
horses across the river. It so happened that Isaac Williams,[37]
Hambleton Kerr, and Jacob, a Dutchman, had come
down that morning from Wheeling, to look after the cattle,
etc., left at the deserted settlement. When near the mouth

of Little Grave creek, a mile above, they heard the report of
a rifle. "Dod rot 'em," exclaimed Mr. Williams, "a Kentuck
boat has landed at the creck, and they are shooting my
hogs." Quickening their pace, in a few minutes they were
within a short distance of the creek, when they heard the loud
snort of a horse. Kerr being in the prime of life, and younger
than Mr. Williams, was several rods ahead, and reached the
bank first. As he looked into the creek, he saw three Indians
standing in a canoe; one was in the stern, one in the bow,
and the other in the middle. At the feet of the latter, lay
four rifles and a dead hog; while a fourth Indian was swimming
a horse, a few rods from shore. The one in the stern
had his paddle in the edge of the water in the act of turning
and shoving the canoe from the mouth of the creek into the
river. Before they were aware of his presence, Kerr drew up
and shot the Indian in the stern, who instantly fell into the
water. The crack of his rifle had scarcely ceased, when Mr.
Williams came up and shot the one in the bow, who also fell
overboard. Kerr dropped his own rifle, and seizing that of
the Dutchman, shot the remaining Indian. He fell over into
the water, but still held on to the side of the canoe with one
hand. So amazed was the last Indian at the fall of his companions,
that he never offered to lift one of the rifles which
lay at his feet in self-defence, but acted like one bereft of his
senses. By this time the canoe, impelled by the impetus
given to it by the first Indian, had reached the current of the
river, and was some rods below the mouth of the creek. Kerr
instantly reloaded his gun, and seeing another man lying in
the bottom of the canoe, raised it to his face as in the act of
firing, when he cried out, "Don't shoot, I am a white man!"
Kerr told him to knock loose the Indian's hand from the side
of the canoe, and paddle to the shore. In reply he said his
arm was broken and he could not. The current, however,
set it near some rocks not far from land, on which he jumped
and waded out. Kerr now aimed his rifle at the Indian on horseback,
who by this time had reached the middle of the river.
The shot struck near him, splashing the water on his naked
skin. The Indian seeing the fate of his companions, with the
utmost bravery, slipped from the horse, and swam for the
canoe, in which were the rifles of the four warriors. This
was an act of necessity, as well of daring, for he well knew
he could not reach home without the means of killing game.
He soon gained possession of the canoe, unmolested, crossed
with the arms to his own side of the Ohio, mounted the captive
horse, which had swam to the Indian shore, and with a
yell of defiance escaped into the woods. The canoe was
turned adrift to spite his enemies, and was taken up near
Maysville with the dead hog still in it, the cause of all their
misfortunes.

THE DOOLIN MURDER.

Edward Doolin was one of the earliest settlers near the
mouth of Fishing creek. He improved the farm now partly
owned by Samuel McEldowney, about one mile above New
Martinsville, Virginia.[38] Most of the settlers on Fishing creek
had, on the opening of spring, moved into Tomlinson's fort;
but Doolin, not apprehending danger, refused to go. The
circumstances of this murder are thus given by General Butler,
who was one of the Commissioners appointed to hold
treaties with the northern and western Indians. His Journal,
from which we extract, was kept during his visit to the
Miami, in 1785:

"I saw one Irvine, who had come from Cumberland river
in a boat; he arrived at Fort McIntosh just the evening before
I set out. He says he met General Clark below Sciota
a small distance, the 13th inst., on his way to the falls of the
Ohio. He says he met with the wife of one Doolin, whose
husband and two children were murdered by the Indians on
Fish creek, on the 20th instant. Their conduct was very

extraordinary. They came to the door and knocked, very
early in the morning; the man rose out of bed and was shot
through the door, which broke his thigh; on his falling, the
door was broke in by the Indians, who tomahawked him and
two children; the woman in fright lay still. They told her
not to be uneasy, that they would not hurt her or the child
she had in her arms, and desired she would not leave the
house, as they would soon be back again, but did not intend
to injure her; that they were Cherokees, and would never
make peace. She asked why they troubled her, that the
Indians had made peace with General Clark last fall; they
said, not they; that if they could meet General Clark they
would kill him also. He says he does not think the Indians
mean to do any mischief generally, that it is a few banditti,
who are a collection of Cherokees, Shawanese, etc."

Mrs. Doolin afterwards married Edmund Martin, and
moved with her husband to Kentucky.

CAPTIVITY OF MRS. FRANCES SCOTT.

Mr. Scott, a citizen of Washington county, Virginia, had
his house attacked on Wednesday night, June 29th, 1785,
and himself, with four children, butchered upon the spot.

Early in the evening, a considerable body of Indians passed
his house and encamped within a couple of miles. Himself
and family had retired, with the exception of Mrs. Scott,
who was in the act of undressing, when the painted savages
rushed in, and commenced the work of death. "Mr. Scott,
being awake, jumped up, but was immediately fired at: he
forced his way through the midst of the enemy and got out
of the door, but fell. An Indian seized Mrs. Scott, and
ordered her to a particular spot, and not to move: others
stabbed and cut the throats of the three younger children
in their bed, and afterwards lifting them up, dashed them
upon the floor, near the mother; the eldest, a beautiful

girl of eight years old, awoke, escaped out of the bed, ran to
her parent, and, with the most plaintive accents, cried, `O
mamma! mamma! save me!' The mother, in the deepest
anguish of spirit, and with a flood of tears, entreated the
savages to spare her child; but with a brutal fierceness, they
tomahawked and stabbed her in the mother's arms. Adjacent
to Mr. Scott's dwelling house another family lived, of the
name of Ball. The Indians attacked them at the same time;
but the door being shut, the enemy fired into the house
through an opening between two logs, and killed a young
lad; they then tried to force the door, but a surviving brother
fired through and drove them off; the remaining part of the
family ran out of the house and escaped. In Mr. Scott's
house were four good rifles, well loaded, and a good deal of
clothing and furniture, part of which belonged to people
that had left it on their way to Kentucky. The Indians,
being thirteen in number, loaded themselves with the plunder,
then speedily made off, and continued travelling all night.
Next morning their chief allotted to each man his share; and
detached nine of the party to steal horses from the inhabitants
on Clinch river. The eleventh day after Mrs. Scott's
captivity, the four Indians who had her in charge, stopped at
a place of rendezvous to hunt. Three went out, and the
chief, being an old man, was left to take care of the prisoner,
who, by this time, expressed a willingness to proceed to the
Indian towns, which seemed to have the desired effect of
lessening her keeper's vigilance. In the day time, as the old
man was graning a deer skin, the captive, pondering on her
situation, and anxiously looking for an opportunity to make
her escape, took the resolution, and went to the Indian carelessly,
asked liberty to go a small distance to a stream of
water, to wash the blood off her apron, that had remained
besmeared since the fatal night of the murder of her little
daughter. He told her, in the English tongue `Go along!'
she then passed by him, his face being in a contrary direction
from that she was going, and he very busy. After getting to
the water, she went on without delay towards a high, barren
mountain, and travelled until late in the evening, when she
came down into the valley, in search of the track she had
been taken along; hoping thereby to find the way back,
without the risk of being lost, and perishing with hunger in
uninhabited parts.1

"That night she made herself a bed with leaves, and the
next day resumed her wanderings. Thus did that poor woman
continue from day to day, and week to week, wandering
in the trackless wilderness. Finally, on the 11th of August,
she reached a settlement on Clinch river, known as New
Garden.

"Mrs. Scott related, that during her wandering from the
tenth of July to the eleventh of August, she had no other
subsistence but chewing and swallowing the juice of young
cane, sassafras, and some plants she did not know the names
of; that, on her journey, she saw buffaloes, elk, deer, and
frequently bears and wolves, not one of which, although some
passed very near, offered to do her the least harm. One
day a bear came near her, with a young fawn in his mouth,
and, on discovering her, he dropped his prey and ran off.
Hunger prompted her to try and eat the flesh; but, on reflection,
she desisted, thinking that the bear might return
and devour her: besides, she had an aversion to raw meat.

"Mrs. Scott long continued in a low state of health, and
remained inconsolable at the loss of her family, particularly
bewailing the cruel death of her little daughter."

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]

1786.

In the autumn of this year, James Snodgrass and John
Ice were killed while looking for their horses, which had
strayed from their owners when on a buffalo hunt on Fishing
creek.

A few days subsequent to this occurrence, a party of Indians
came to Buffalo creek, and meeting Mrs. Dragoo and her son
in a field gathering beans, took them prisoners, and supposing
that their detention would induce others to look for them,
waylaid the path leading from the house. "According to
expectation, uneasy at their continued absence, Jacob Strait
and Nicholas Wood went to ascertain the cause. As they
approached, the Indians fired, and Wood fell. Strait taking
to flight, was soon overtaken. Mrs. Strait and her daughter,
hearing the firing and seeing the savages in pursuit of Mr.
Strait, betook themselves also to flight, but were discovered
by some of the Indians, who immediately ran after them.
The daughter concealed herself in a thicket and escaped.
Her mother sought concealment under a large shelving rock,
and was not afterwards discovered, although those in pursuit
of her husband, passed near and overtook him not far off.
Indeed she was at that time so close as to hear Mr. Strait
say, when overtaken, `Don't kill me, and I will go with you;'
and the savage replying, `Will you go with me?' she heard
the fatal blow which deprived her husband of life.

"Mrs. Dragoo being infirm and unable to travel to their
towns, was murdered on the way. Her son (a lad of seven)
remained with the Indians upwards of twenty years,—he
married a squaw, by whom he had four children, two of whom
he brought home with him, when he forsook the Indians."

1787.

THE BEVANS' MURDER.

Clark's block-house[41] was, in July of this year, the scene
of a painful occurrence. Of those who had resorted there,
was a family by the name of Bevans, embracing six members
in all, two sons and two daughters. Not apprehending danger,
these four visited, on the occasion referred to, their farm,
which was within a mile of the fort, for the purpose of pulling
flax. Reaching the field, they all seated themselves upon the
fence and were looking at the flax, when the Indians fired
upon them. John, one of the sons, received a ball through his
body, but not so as to disable him from running for the blockhouse.
An Indian followed close in pursuit, but the unfortunate
young man kept ahead until within sight of the blockhouse,
when he sunk down dead. The Indian had just given
up the chase, as he saw him fall. Cornelius, the other brother,
ran a different direction, with an Indian after him, tomahawk
in hand. The little fellow ran down a steep hill, leaping over
a large prostrate tree, in the top of which he hid himself. The
two girls were tomahawked and scalped, and both found lying
together. They were buried on the spot and in the same grave.

Clark told Rodefer that he saw John Bevans fall over the
fence a short distance below the fort. One of the daughters
was married, and an additional account says, that her husband,
James Anderson, was with her and was killed.

FEMALE HEROISM.

The women of the west were Spartans in every sense of
the word. They possessed in a remarkable degree a union of
strength, courage, love, devotion, simplicity and shrewdness
which well fitted them for the severe and often terrible trials
through which they had to pass. These noble qualities, called
forth, perhaps, by the circumstances with which they were
surrounded, distinguished the women of the heroic age of the
west. Disregarding danger, and alone devoted to the safety of
her little household, the western mother nerved her arm and
steeled her heart to the severe duties which surrounded her.

A young girl braves the danger of an Indian army, and
rushes forth from a place of safety to procure the means of
defending those whom she loves more tenderly than life.
Another bares her breast to the knife of the savage rather
than disclose the hiding place of her friends; while yet another
throws herself upon the person of her father, to receive the
impending blow of the uplifted tomahawk.

Again, the fond wife, who has seen her husband shot dead
by a rifle levelled over her own shoulders, watches over his
blood-stained corpse, in her desolate home, surrounded by
fierce savages, rather than attempt to escape and leave his
precious remains subject to farther outrage. Such were the
women of the west—the hero-mothers of the Revolution.

The case of our Virginia matron, which should have been
noticed in its appropriate chronological order, will now be given.

On Dunkard creek, now within the limits of Monongalia
county, lived a Mr. Bozarth, his wife, and three children.

The alarm which had caused the settlers to resort to Prickett's
fort, (elsewhere noticed), induced two or three families
living convenient to Mr. Bozarth, to collect at his house.

About the 1st of April, (1789), when but two men were in the
house, with Mrs. Bozarth, the children, who had been out
playing, ran suddenly in, crying that "Indians were coming!"

In order to ascertain the true cause of this alarm, one of
the men stepped to the door and was struck upon the breast
with a rifle ball, which knocked him back into the house. A
savage sprung in after him and attacked the other white man
with all the fury of his nature. The man being unarmed,
called for a knife, but Mrs. Bozarth not seeing one at the
instant, picked up an axe, and killed the savage on the spot.
While the courageous woman was thus engaged, a second
Indian presented himself at the door, and firing, killed the
man who had been struggling with his companion. Quick as
thought, the intrepid matron turned upon this new comer, and
at one blow ripped open his abdomen, causing the savage to
yell most lustily for help. Immediately, several of his companions
rushed to the rescue, but the invincible woman was
ready for them. The first who attempted to enter was struck
upon the head, and his skull cleft, making the third victim to
the axe of this Virginia Amazon. The others having drawn
out the wounded savage, and learning the strength of the
house, attempted to force the door, but Mrs. Bozarth had so
securely fastened it, as to defy all their efforts. The savages
then killed the children in the yard and made off.

In connection with this, and as illustrative of our subject,
we will give one more case, which, although not occurring
within the present limits of our state, was, at the time the
transaction took place, strictly a part of Virginia.

"During the summer of this year, the house of Mr. John
Merrill, of Nelson county, Ky., was attacked by Indians,
and defended with singular address and good fortune. Merril
was alarmed by the barking of a dog about midnight, and
upon opening the door in order to ascertain the cause of the
disturbance, received the fire of six or seven Indians, by
which his arm and thigh were both broken. He instantly
sunk upon the floor and called upon his wife to close the door.

This had scarcely been done, when it was violently assailed
by the tomahawks of the enemy, and a large breach soon
effected. Mrs. Merrill, being a large woman, possessing both
strength and courage, guarded the door with an axe, and
successively killed or badly wounded four of the enemy as
they attempted to force their way into the cabin.

"The Indians then ascended the roof and attempted to enter
by way of the chimney, but here again they were met by the
same determined enemy. Mrs. Merrill seized the only feather
bed which the cabin afforded, and hastily ripping it open,
poured its contents upon the fire. A furious blaze and stifling
smoke instantly ascended the chimney, and brought down two
of the enemy, who in a few moments were at the mercy of the
woman. Seizing the axe, she quickly dispatched them, and
was instantly afterwards summoned to the door, where the
only remaining savage now appeared, endeavoring to effect an
entrance, while Mrs. Merrill was engaged at the chimney. He
soon received a gash on the cheek, which compelled him, with
a loud yell, to relinquish his purpose, and return hastily to
Chillicothe, where, from the report of a prisoner, he gave an
exaggerated account of the fierceness, strength, and courage
of the "Long-knife squaw!' "

THE BECHAM MURDER.

Of those who settled on Little Wheeling, after the cessation
of hostilities in 1783, was a family named Becham. They
lived near what is now known as the Scotch ridge. In
October, 1787,[42] two of the sons of Mr. Becham left home to
hunt their horses, and look for bee trees. They had not gone
far before a small party of Indians fell upon them, and took

them prisoners. The Indians had caught one of the horses
and tied him to a tree, and when the boys approached they
were made captives without any resistance. The Indians
then caught another horse, and placing a boy each before
them, rode off. They made for the Ohio at Grave creek.
That night they encamped about four miles from the river,
and after securing their prisoners, fell asleep. During the
night, something caused them to believe they were pursued;
and without a moment's hesitation tomahawked and scalped
the unfortunate prisoners, and then made off as speedily as
possible. Happily, in the hurry and confusion of the moment,
they did not do up the work of death in an effective
manner, as neither boy was killed, and the eldest but slightly
injured, saving the loss of his scalp. Thomas sat by the side
of his brother for some time, but finding his head bleeding
freely, took from the Indian's plunder a check apron,[43] and
tied it around his head. Deeming it imprudent to remain
there, Thomas took some of the plunder, among which were
a few pewter spoons, and mounting one of the horses,
rode off for help. He travelled about three miles down
Grave creek, where he left the horse, and proceeded on foot
to the Flats. He went directly to the house of Mr. Masters,
father of Dr. Z. Masters, living at that time on the farm now
owned by Mr. Lewis D. Purdy, where his wound was dressed,
and himself taken care of. A party went out on the morning
to look for the other boy, but the savages had been back and
made fatal work. It was supposed they had waited at
some convenient point of observation until daylight, and discovering
no pursuing party, returned to camp and dispatched
the poor boy who had still survived. Thomas lived to a good
old age, and for many years resided in Belmont county, Ohio.

The Indians engaged in this expedition returned to the
neighborhood of West Alexandria, and killed a Scotch woman,
also a man named Ageo. They then escaped to the Ohio,
and crossed near Yellow creek. Ageo was killed in going to
the fort, after the murder of the woman referred to. He was
shot from his horse.

1788.

THE JOHNSON BOYS.

All who have read anything of western history, will
remember the thrilling feat of the two Johnson boys. As
many very contradictory accounts have been given of that
occurrence, which so links their name with the heroic age of
the west, we were anxious to procure the full facts, and for
this purpose consulted the surviving brother, now a hale old
man of seventy-four, living in Monroe county, Ohio. In
answer to our inquiry, he has written out a detailed statement
of the whole transaction, which it affords us sincere
pleasure to herewith submit:

In connection with the above, and to still further show of
what material the boys were made, in the great heroic age of
the west, we give the following, which we find in a recent
communication from Major Nye, of Ohio. The scene of
adventure was within the present limits of Wood county,
Virginia.

"I have heard from Mr. Guthrie, and others, that at Bellville
a man had a son, quite a youth, say twelve or fourteen years
of age, who had been used to firing his father's gun, as most
boys did in those days. He heard, he supposed, turkeys on
or near the bank of the Ohio, opposite that place, and asked
his father to let him take the gun, and kill one. His father,
knowing that the Indians frequently decoyed people by such
noises, refused, saying it was probably an Indian. When he
had gone to work, the boy took the gun and paddled his
canoe over the river, but had the precaution to land some
distance from where he had heard the turkey all the morning,
probably for fear of scaring the game, and perhaps a little
afraid of Indians. The banks were steep, and the boy cautiously
advanced to where he could see without being seen.
Watching awhile for his game, he happened to see an Indian
cautiously looking over a log, to notice where the boy had
landed. The lad fixed his gun at a rest, watching the
place where he had seen the Indian's head, and when it
appeared again, fired, and the Indian disappeared. The boy
dropped the gun and ran for his canoe, which he paddled over
the river as soon as possible. When he reached home, he
said, `Mother, I killed an Indian!' and the mother replied,
`No, you have not.' `Yes, I have,' said the boy. The
father coming in, he made the same report to him, and received
the same reply; but he constantly affirmed it was even so;
and, as the gun was left, a party took the boy over the river
to find it, and show the place where he shot the Indian,
and behold, his words were found verified. The ball had
entered the head, where the boy had affirmed he shot, between
the eye and ear."

Such "boys" made the men of the Republic in after
years—men whom neither tyranny nor oppression could
subdue.

CAPTIVITY OF MRS. GLASS.

Early on the morning of the 27th of March, two Indians
appeared on the premises of Mr. Glass, residing a few miles
back of the present town of Wellsburgh. At the time, Mrs. G.
was alone in her house, with the exception of an infant and a
small black girl. Mrs. Glass was spinning, and had sent her
negro woman to the woods for sugar water. In a few moments
she returned, screaming at the top of her voice, "Indians!
Indians!" Mrs. Glass jumped up, and running, first to the
window, then to the door, attempted to escape. But an Indian
met her, and presented his gun; Mrs. Glass caught hold of
the muzzle, turned it aside, and begged him not to kill her.
The other Indian, in the meantime, caught the negro woman,
and brought her into the house. They then opened a chest
and took out a small box and some articles of clothing, and
without doing any further damage, departed with their
prisoners. After proceeding about a mile and a half, they
halted, and held a consultation, as she supposed, to kill the
children. This she understood to be the subject by their
gestures. To one of the Indians, who could speak English,
she held out her little boy, and begged not to kill him, as
he would make a fine chief after awhile. The Indian made a
motion for her to walk on with her child. The other Indian
then struck the negro child with the pipe end of his tomahawk,
which knocked it down, and then, by a blow with the
edge, across the back of the neck, dispatched it.

"About four o'clock in the evening they reached the river,
a mile above the creek, and carried a canoe, which had been
thrown up in some drift wood, into the river. They got into
this canoe, and worked it down to the mouth of Rush run, a

distance of about five miles. They pulled the canoe into the
mouth of the stream, as far as they could; going up the run
about a mile, encamped for the night. The Indians gave the
prisoners all their own clothes for covering, and one of them
added his own blanket. Shortly before daylight the Indians
got up, and put another blanket over them. The black
woman complained much on account of the loss of her child,
and they threatened, if she did not desist, to kill her.

"About sunrise they commenced their march, up a very steep
hill, and at two o'clock halted on Short creek, about twenty
miles from the place whence they set out in the morning.
The spot had been an encampment shortly before, as well as a
place of deposite for the plunder, which they had recently taken
from the house of a Mr. Vanmeter, whose family had been killed.
The plunder was deposited in a sycamore tree. They had
tapped some sugar trees when there before, and now kindled
a fire, and put on a brass kettle, with a turkey, which they had
killed on the way, to boil in sugar water.

"Mr. Glass was working, with a hired man in a field, about
a quarter of a mile from the house, when his wife and family
were taken, but knew nothing of the event until noon. After
searching about the place, and going to several houses in quest
of his family, he went to Wells' fort, collected ten men, and
that night lodged in a cabin, on the bottom on which the town
of Wellsburg now stands.

"Next morning they discovered the place where the Indians
had taken the canoe from the drift, and their tracks at the
place of embarkation. Mr. Glass could distinguish the
track of his wife by the print of the high heel of her shoe.
They crossed over the river, and went down on the other
side, until they came near the mouth of Rush run; but discovering
no tracks of the Indians, most of the men concluded
that they would go to the mouth of the Muskingum, by water,
and therefore wished to turn back. Mr. Glass begged of them
to go as far as the mouth of Short creek, which was only two
or three miles. To this they agreed. When they got to the

mouth of Rush run, they found the canoe of the Indians.
This was identified by a proof, which goes to show the presence
of mind of Mrs. Glass. While passing down the river, one of
the Indians threw into the water several papers, which he
had taken out of Mr. Glass' trunk; some of these she carelessly
picked up, and under pretence of giving them to the
child, dropped them into the bottom of the canoe. These left
no doubt. The trail of the Indians, and their prisoners, up
the run to their camp, and then up the river hill, was soon
discovered.

"About an hour after the Indians had halted, Mr. Glass and
his men came within sight of their camp. The object then
was to save the lives of the prisoners, by attacking the Indians
so unexpectedly, as not to allow time to kill them. With this
view, they crept along until they got within one hundred
yards of the camp. Fortunately, Mrs. Glass' little son had
gone to a sugar-tree, but not being able to get the water, his
mother had stepped out to get it for him. The negro woman
was sitting some distance from the two Indians, who were
looking attentively at a scarlet jacket, which they had taken
some time before. On a sudden they dropped the jacket, and
turned their eyes towards the men, who, supposing they were
discovered, immediately discharged several guns, and rushed
upon them, at full speed, with an Indian yell. One of the
Indians, it was supposed, was wounded the first fire, as he
fell and dropped his gun and shot pouch. After running
about one hundred yards, a second shot was fired after him,
by Maj. M'Guire, which brought him to his hands and knees;
but there was no time for pursuit, as the Indians had informed
Mrs. Glass that there was another encampment close by.
They therefore returned with all speed, and reached Beech
Bottom fort that night.

"The other Indian, at the first fire, ran a short distance
beyond Mrs. Glass, so that she was in a right line between
him and the white men; here he halted for a moment, to put

on his shot pouch, which Mr. Glass mistook for an attempt to
kill his wife with a tomahawk."

This artful manœuvre, no doubt, saved the life of the savage,
as his pursuers could not shoot at him, without risking the
life of the woman.

The above we have slightly altered from the account already
published, and think it is entirely correct as now given. Mrs.
Glass subsequently married a Mr. Brown, and was long a
resident of Brooke county.

The Monongahela settlements suffered somewhat severely
from savage visitation during most of this year. The tomahawk
and scalping knife found their victims in almost every
neighborhood.

"In August, five Indians on their way to the Monongahela,
met with two men on Middle Island creek, and killed them.
Taking their horses, they continued on until they came to the
house of William Johnson, on Ten-mile, and made prisoners
of Mrs. Johnson and some children, plundered the house,
killed part of the stock, and taking with them one of Johnson's
horses, returned towards the Ohio. When the Indians
came to the house, Johnson had gone to a lick not far off,
and on his return in the morning, seeing what had been done,
and searching until he found the trail of the savages and
their prisoners, ran to Clarksburg for assistance. A company
of men repaired with him to where he had discovered the
trail, and keeping it about a mile, found four of the children
lying dead in the woods. The savages had tomahawked and
scalped them, and placing their heads close together, turned
their bodies and feet out so as to represent a cross. The
dead were buried, and further pursuit given over."

In the same month, two lads were surprised and killed at
Neil's station, a small stockade which stood on the Kanawha,
about a mile back of the present town of Parkersburg. The
boys were twelve and fifteen, sons of a German who lived

within a few hundred yards of the block-house. They had been
to the station late in the evening, and returning, went out of
their path to hunt the cows. The savages had watched them
go down, and at a favorable moment fell upon them with
their tomahawks and killed both on the spot. Alarmed at
their delay, the parents made a search for them on the
following morning and found their bodies as described.
That night, the Indians attempted to burn the block-house
by means of straw and hay, which they thrust through the
port-holes; but in this they were foiled by the vigilance of
those within.

ROBERT CARPENTER.

A nephew of Joseph Tomlinson, named Robert Carpenter,
came near losing his life under the following circumstances.
He had gone out early in the morning for the horses, and
while hunting near Grave creek, was fired on by a party
of Indians who were concealed near the bank. The ball
took effect in his shoulder, breaking the bone, and inflicting
a severe wound. Thus disabled, the Indians soon overtook
and made him prisoner. Anxious to get possession of the
horses, but unable to catch them, the Indians concluded to
let Carpenter try it, as the animals knew him and would be
less difficult to capture.[44] Accordingly, Carpenter was untied
and started in pursuit. Going about two hundred yards,
he determined to escape, and instead of catching the horses
ran towards the house of a friend. But his flight was so
greatly impeded by the old shoes which he wore, and his disabled
arm, that the savages soon overtook him. Another

attempt was then made by the Indians to get the horses, but
utterly failing, Carpenter ventured to offer his services, declaring
that he would not again try to escape, but do his best
to catch the horses, and go along with them to their country.
Finding they could not get near the animals, they concluded
to trust Carpenter once more, threatening him with all
manner of horrid deaths if he attempted again to escape.
This time he adroitly drove the horses before him a considerable
distance, and then kicking off his shoes, and taking
a firm hold of his maimed limb, started on the race of life or
death. He safely escaped to the house of Nathan Master,
living on the farm now owned by Lewis D. Purdy, Esqr.

MURDER OF THE GRICE FAMILY.

This occurrence, which should have gone with the preceding
chapter, was unavoidably omitted, but is now given as
possessing interest to the inhabitants in the region where
the tragedy took place.

Of the families gathered at Shepherd's fort[45] was one by the
name of Grice. When it was determined to evacuate the

fort, this family, instead of seeking shelter elsewhere, concluded
to return to their improvement, distant about two
miles from the forks. The family consisted of — Grice, his
wife and five children. When near the mouth of Peter's
run, a party of Indians, who had watched the movements at
the fort, fell upon them and murdered, or supposed they had,
all but one, whom they took prisoner. Rachel, a girl of
eleven years of age, was knocked down with a war-club and
her skull fractured, but she was not killed. Dr. Moore,
of Catfish, was called upon, and trepanned her. She recovered,
and afterwards married Captain Henry Jolly, a well
known citizen of Ohio. One of the victims was a married
daughter, who at the time was enceinte. The eldest son,
John, was made prisoner, who remained with them eleven
years, but at last got an opportunity, while in Kentucky, to
escape. The Indians who committed this depredation were
eleven in number. Rachel said, the man who scalped her had
blue eyes and light hair.

MURDER OF THE PURDY FAMILY.

One of the most bold and bloody murders perpetrated in
the neighborhood of Wheeling, during this year, was that on
the family of James Purdy, a worthy and industrious settler
on the hill just above Bedelion's mill. The family consisted
of Mr. and Mrs. Purdy and their four children.

The cabin in which they lived was unfinished; a blanket
supplying the place of a door. But this was not deemed
unsafe, as no Indians had appeared in the settlement for
some months. Shortly after dark, four Indians stepped into
the cabin, and without uttering a word commenced butchering
the defenceless family. Two of them fell upon Purdy, who
called to his wife for a knife, which she handed him; but he
was then too much exhausted from the repeated blows of the
tomahawk to use it, and the next moment after receiving it

sunk lifeless to the floor. Mrs. Purdy was knocked down with
a war club; one child was dashed against the door-way, and its
brains scattered over the room, while an interesting little
boy, who was screaming with fright, had both his fears and
his pains quieted by a blow from the tomahawk. The two
remaining children, daughters, were then made prisoners,
and after plundering the house, effected a hurried retreat
across the Ohio. The girls were released after ten years'
captivity. Mrs. Purdy was only stunned by the blow with
the war club, and falling near the door, crawled off and
secreted herself while the Indians were eating.

ATTACK UPON KIRKWOOD'S CABIN.

Early in the spring of this year, a large body of Indians
made an attack upon the settlement at the mouth of Indian
Wheeling creek, opposite Wheeling, Virginia. A block-house
was in course of erection, but not in a condition to be occupied;
the cabin of Captain Robert Kirkwood[46] was used as a
place of resort for the neighborhood. On this occasion, Captain
Joseph Biggs, who commanded a company of scouts,
was in the cabin with fourteen of his men. About four
o'clock in the morning, Captain Biggs, feeling restless, arose
and went out into the air. Returning, he closed the door,
and what was unusual, rolled a barrel of pork against it, in
order to make it more secure. He had scarcely time to get

into bed, when the attack was commenced, and a furious
assault made upon the door by means of rails, logs, &c. The
besieged placed themselves under Captain Biggs, by whom
the defence was maintained in a manner highly creditable to
him as a brave and skilful officer. He ordered every particle
of light to be extinguished, and so stationed his men as to fire
upon the enemy from every direction. The night was clear
and beautiful; the moon being nearly full, gave those within
great advantage over the enemy, as they were enabled by the
light, to shoot the savages whenever they presented themselves.
Early in the engagement, Captain Biggs received a
serious wound, but with the courage of a true soldier concealed
the nature of it until day-light. In noticing the
movements of the enemy through one of the windows of the
cabin, an Indian, who had slipped close under the side of the
house, suddenly thrust his rifle through the window at which
Captain Biggs was standing, and discharging it, lodged the
ball in the left arm of the captain, just below the shoulder.
The bone was badly fractured, and parts of it afterwards
came away.

Foiled in their attempt to effect an entrance at the door,
(which had been well secured by puncheons from the floor,)
the savages determined to try the effect of fire; and accordingly
hurled burning fagots upon the roof, which, in a few
minutes, was enveloped in flames. But again they were unsuccessful,
for the whites pushed off the roof. The Indians now
became furious, and commenced piling brush against the sides
of the house, which they fired. At one time that noble little
band thought their fate was sealed, as the flames would often
mount to the top of the walls. With perseverance and caution,
however, they succeeded in subduing the fire, and finally
extinguishing it. This they did first with water, milk, and
such other liquids as could be commanded, and finally with
sand from beneath the cabin floor. Early in the attack,
the mortar was removed from the chinks of the wall, and the
savages having suffered severely from the steady aim of the

scouts through these convenient port-holes, retired behind the
half-finished block-house.[47]

Shortly before day-break, the boom of a cannon was heard
echoing among the hills, which the besieged hailed as the
harbinger of help. The firing had been heard at Wheeling,
and the gun announced that assistance would soon be at
hand. The savages, too, understood it, and without delay
gathered up their wounded and disappeared in the forest. Five
of the whites were severely wounded, one mortally. These
were, Captain Joseph Biggs, John Walker, Elijah Hedges,
John Barrett, and Joseph Van Meter. Walker was shot
through the hip, severing the urethra, and causing his death
early next day. He was removed to the residence of Colonel
Zane, Wheeling, where he died, and was buried with military
honors. A coat belonging to some of the inmates, which had
been suspended by the centre-log, and was left hanging after
the roof had been thrown off, was found, on examination, to
be completely riddled with bullets. The number of Indians
was never fully ascertained, nor the extent of their killed
and wounded. They were supposed to have been the same
concerned in the engagement with Captain Van Buskirk's
company at the mouth of Brush run, an account of which is
elsewhere given.

FATAL DECOY.

One of the most common, and at the same time, most
successful decoys practised by the wily savage, was that
of the turkey call. The case we are about to record belongs
to that class.

Of those forted at Grave creek, was a William McIntosh,
wife and child. Early one morning, the cry of a turkey was

heard against the hill-side, across the river. McIntosh,
although warned against the deceptions of the enemy, started
over with his gun and dog. He landed his canoe at a point
nearly opposite the fort, and commenced ascending the bank.
Before taking ten steps, the "turkey," from his concealed
position, fired and shot his victim through the head.

McIntosh remaining much longer than was thought right,
some men from the fort went over on the third day, and there
found the unfortunate man scalped, with his faithful dog sitting
by his side.

SURPRISE OF A HUNTER'S CAMP.

On the 28th of January, (1791,) a hunting party, composed
of Joseph Biggs, James Boggs, (son of Captain Boggs,)
James and Alexander Mitchell, Thos. Barr, Thos. Richards,
Elijah Whittaker, Joshua Williamsom, (brother of Colonel
Williamson,) and some others whose names cannot be obtained,
crossed the Ohio from Short creek, on a hunt in the
Indian country. They went out as far as Stillwater, and
having killed considerable game were about returning. As
the party lay around their camp fire at night, a body of
Indians rose up from beneath the creek bank, and fired
directly into their midst. Boggs was shot through both hips
with a large musket ball; the rest of the party escaped
unhurt and eluded pursuit, but lost all their guns, blankets,
game, etc. The Indians scalped their unfortunate victim,—
almost denuding the entire skull, then stretched him out and
placed an old musket across his breast. His arms were
extended at full length, and frozen so firmly in that position,
that when the men went out from Wheeling to bury him,
they had to amputate the limbs to get him in a convenient
sized grave. The ground was so frozen that the men could
not bury the body at any great depth, and the result was, as
afterwards ascertained, that the bears scented out the spot

and devoured the remains. These facts we have derived from
Mrs. Cruger, who was sister-in-law to Mr. Boggs. The
unfortunate man had, during the night previous to his horrible
death, what was called a "bad dream." It was that of a
swarm of black bees, some of which stung him. His companions
said he spoke frequently of the circumstance during
the day, and that he regarded it as a fatal presentiment.

One of the latest, and perhaps the very last Indian
murder committed on the river near Wheeling, was that of
Uriah McCutcheon, who was killed by a small party of
Indians near the present Harris' Ferry. According to B.
McMechen, Esq., from whom we have obtained this fact, the
unfortunate man was found shortly afterwards, tomahawked
and scalped.

DEATH OF THREE HUNTERS.

In the fall of this year, three young men, Thomas Swearengen,
son of Captain Van Swearengen, John L. Masters,
and a third whose name we have not been able to ascertain,
crossed the Ohio, and commenced hunting up the valley of
Short creek. The day was very fine, and as no Indian
depredations had been committed for some time in that
immediate neighborhood, the hunters believed they were
perfectly safe. But their hopes proved a vain delusion.
They had not gone far, when a party of Indians, doubtless
attracted by the report of the hunters' rifles, fired upon them,
killing Swearengen on the spot, and so wounding the others,
that they were easily overtaken and dispatched. The bodies
of all three were afterwards found and identified. The scene
of this disaster was some four or five miles back from the
river and creek. Some men from the Ohio side gave information
of the discovery of the bodies, and a party of Virginians
from the neighborhood of Beech bottom went over

and buried them. Similar expeditions to the one we have
just spoken of, frequently went from this side into the Indian
country, and they generally paid for their temerity. We
have already noticed two or three, and now have to speak of
another. Not long after the last mentioned occurrence, a
party of seven, from the neighborhood of West Liberty,
including one of the Biggs' and also one of the Hedges',
crossed the river, and after one day's hunt, were attacked by
a considerable body of Indians, and put to rout with the loss
of three of their number.

MASSACRE OF JOLLY'S FAMILY.

Among the earlier settlers in the neighborhood of Wheeling,
was Daniel Jolly. His improvement was on the hill, about
three miles from the mouth of the creek. The land is, we
believe, now occupied by Mr. McEnall, and the site of his
cabin is still pointed out not far from the road which crosses
the hill from the old toll-gate to the river. The family of
Jolly consisted of himself, wife and four children, with one
grand-child.

On the 8th day of June, a small party of Indians, who
had secreted themselves behind some gooseberry bushes in
the garden, fired upon the family, killing Mrs. Jolly instantly
and wounding a son, daughter and grand-son. Her eldest
son, John, had just reached the house from the corn-field,
and was in the act of wiping the perspiration from his brow
with the sleeve of his shirt as the ball struck him in the
mouth. He fell, badly wounded, and the next instant the
savages were tomahawking him. Killing and scalping the
other wounded ones, and taking prisoner one son and a
nephew of Mr. Jolly, named Joseph McCune, they pillaged,
then fired the house and made a rapid retreat. Joseph
McCune was killed after proceeding a short distance because
he could not travel fast, as he suffered from phthisic.

Mrs. Jolly was standing in the door at the moment she
was shot, looking in direction of the spring, to which she had
sent one of her children. The boy at the spring, whose name
was James, escaped, also another member of the family in
the field. A daughter, Mary, was absent at her uncle Joseph
McCune, who lived on the ridge road, about five miles from
the forks of Wheeling. Mr. Jolly had gone on a journey to
the Monongahela to receive a payment for some property
which he had sold previous to moving out.

The boy made prisoner remained in captivity seven years,
and was then regained by his brother at Pensacola. He was
discovered trading at Nashville; and on being questioned, the
facts of his captivity were elicited, whereupon a gentleman
wrote to Colonel Zane, who communicated the intelligence to
the boy's father. These particulars we have derived principally
from Mrs. Cruger, Mr. McIntyre, and Mr. Darby.

DEATH OF CAPTAIN VAN BUSKIRK.

Early in June[48] of this year occurred the last conflict,
on the upper Ohio, between an organized party of Virginians
and Indians. In consequence of the numerous depredations
on the settlements now embraced in Brooke and Hancock
counties, it was determined to summarily chastise these
marauders; and accordingly, a party of men organized
under the command of Captain Lawson Van Buskirk, an
officer of tried courage and acknowledged efficiency. A party
of Indians had committed sundry acts of violence, and it was
believed they would endeavor to cross the Ohio on their retreat,

at some point near Mingo Bottom.[49] The party of Captain
Van Buskirk, consisted of about forty experienced frontiermen,
some of whom were veteran Indian hunters. The number of
the enemy was known to be about thirty. The whites crossed
the river below the mouth of Cross creek, and marched up the
bottom, looking cautiously for the enemy's trail. They had
discovered it along the run, but missing it, they concluded
to take the ridge, hoping thus to cross it. Descending the
ridge, and just as they gained the river, the Indians fired
upon them, killing Captain Van Buskirk, and wounding John
Aidy. The enemy were concealed in a ravine amidst a dense
cluster of paw-paw bushes. The whites marched in single
file, headed by their captain, whose exposed situation will
account for the fact that he was wounded with thirteen
balls. The ambush quartered on their flank, and they were
totally unsuspicious of it. The plan of the Indians was to
permit the whites to advance in numbers along the line before
firing upon them. This was done; but instead of each selecting
his man, every gun was directed at the captain, who fell, with
thirteen bullet holes in his body. The whites and Indians
instantly tree'd, and the contest lasted more than an hour.
The Indians, however, were defeated, and retreated towards
the Muskingum, with the loss of several killed, while the
Virginians, with the exception of their captain, had none
killed and but three wounded.

Captain Van Buskirk's wife was killed just eleven months
previous to the death of her husband. They lived about three
miles from West Liberty. She had been taken prisoner by the
Indians, and on their march towards the river, her ancle was
sprained so that she could not walk without pain. Finding
her an incumbrance, the wretches put her to death on the hill,
just above where Wellsburg now stands. On the following day
the body of this unfortunate woman was found by a party who
had gone in pursuit.

1794.

THE TUSH MURDER.

The valley of Wheeling creek, one of the most beautiful
and productive in the state, was the theatre of many a painful
and bloody drama. Scarcely a quiet bend, or a surrounding
hill, or a rippling tributary, that is not memorable as connected
with the wars of the Indians. To one unacquainted with its
tragic history, it would indeed be difficult to imagine that
these clear waters were once tinged with the blood of helpless
women and children, and these stern old hills ever echoed to
the terrible whoop of the savage. Such, however, is the
melancholy fact, as our pages abundantly attest. The case
which we are about to detail was, perhaps, the most dreadful
that occurred in the settlement of the valley.

Of those who settled at an early day in this region, was
George Tush. His residence was about twelve miles from the
river, on the farm now owned by Mr. Albert Davis. The
family consisted of himself, wife, and five children. During
the spring and summer of 1794, the settlements on Wheeling
creek had been almost entirely exempt from Indian visitation,
and many of the inhabitants began to console themselves with
the reflection, that day was about to dawn upon their long
night of terror. But, alas, their fondly imagined security was
soon to be dispelled. On the evening of Saturday, September
6th, (1794,) as George Tush was in the act of feeding his hogs,
in a sty close to his cabin, he was fired upon by three savages,
who had concealed themselves, and waited until he should
leave the house. A ball struck him transversely upon the
breast, cutting a deep gash, and inflicting a serious and painful
wound, as it carried off a portion of the bone. It lodged in
the shoulder blade. Tush, losing entirely his presence of
mind, or, in all charitableness, we may allow that his pain

deprived him of self-control, rushed madly by his own door,
in direction of the forest, leaving his helpless family to the
mercy of relentless savages. The next moment the Indians
were in the house. The mother was instantly made prisoner,
and in powerless but quivering agony, compelled to witness
the horrid butchery of her innocent children. In an instant
the youngest born was dashed against a tree, and the other
four fell beneath the reeking tomahawk. Pillaging the house
of such articles as they could carry off, a hurried retreat
was made, lest the escaped husband should follow in pursuit.
The feeble woman was brutally urged on before them. But,
alas, the scenes which she had just witnessed, together with
her own situation, rendered her movements both slow and painful.
Fearing discovery, the wretches tomahawked their helpless
victim, and left her at a point about eight miles from the
place of captivity. Her remains were found some years
afterwards by her husband, while hunting. He recognized
them by the bones of an infant with which she was at the
time largely enceinte.

Of the children tomahawked and scalped, one, a little girl
of four years, recovered, and the infant, whose brains were
supposed to have been dashed out, was found alive on the
following day, lying upon its dead sisters and brothers.
That child still lives, and is the wife of George Goodrich,
residing near Shelbyville, Ia. The children had, a few days
before, gathered a quantity of acorns, which, it is supposed,
prevented the hogs disturbing the remains.

Tush, in his fright, ran some distance, and jumped from a
ledge of rocks fifteen feet in height. This so disabled him
that he could not get to Jacob Wetzel's house, which was
just across the creek, until late at night. He was taken to
Wheeling a day or two after, and there remained until his
wound was healed. (See letter of Mr. Darby, in a Note at
the end of present chapter, for some interesting facts connected
with this case.)

DEATH OF TWO BROTHERS.

Late in the fall of 1794, two brothers, named John and
Joseph Scott, accompanied by a man named Thomas Manning,
started on a hunting expedition to Stillwater. They believed
the season so far advanced that no danger need be apprehended
from Indians. The three men traversed the country
lying between Wheeling and Stillwater without molestation,
or indication of Indians. On the first night of their arrival
out, they kindled a fire, and after supper prepared for rest.
Manning, who was an experienced hunter, attempted to dissuade
the Scotts from remaining near the fire. They, however,
disregarded the advice, and laughed at his fears. But
Manning declared he would not sleep there, and accordingly
moved off a short distance. Scarcely had he changed his
position, when a party of Indians opened a fire upon them,
killing the brothers instantly, and wounding Manning severely,
by breaking his left arm. Reserving his fire, the Indians
did not rush upon him, and supposing he was mortally wounded,
ran upon the Scotts, and plied the tomahawk, that the
work of death might be complete. Manning escaped, and
made his way to Wheeling. Immediately a party of whites
went out and buried the unfortunate brothers. The savages
had singularly maimed one of the ill-fated men.

The Scotts were active and industrious men, good hunters,
and much respected by all who knew them. Joseph married
Debby Hardesty. He lived on the point where the warehouse
of Anderson & Pancoast now stands, in Bridgeport. John
lived on the island.

BLOODY EXPLOIT.

Jonathan Zane was perhaps one of the best shots in the
west. He prided himself particularly upon his skill in this
respect. The following incident shows that he was not only
a good shot, but a dead shot. We derive the facts from Mr.
Reuben Miller, of Bridgeport, Ohio, long a personal friend of
Mr. Zane.

About the year 1808, the two (Miller and Zane) were
walking near where Phillips' foundry now stands, in Wheeling,
when Zane remarked, "About here, I once killed five
Indians. I was returning home from hunting my horses,
and in passing through the high weeds which at that time
grew all around, I saw five Indians jump into the river, and
swim for the island. I fired, and one of them sunk. Loading
and firing three times in quick succession, three others
were killed before reaching the opposite bank." The fifth
and last, seeing the fate of his companions, concealed himself
behind a sawyer, near the island shore, hoping thus to escape
the deadly aim of the white man. After several ineffectual
attempts to dislodge him, the effort was about to be given
over, when Zane noticed a portion of his abdomen protruding
below the log. Drawing a fine aim on the exposed part, he
fired, and the savage rolled into the stream.

ATTACK ON MR. ARMSTRONG.

A Mr. Armstrong, one of the early settlers at Belpre,
having secured some land on the Virginia side, built a mill
and cabin near the head of Blannerhasset's Island, and in the
spring of 1794 moved over his family, consisting of his wife
and five children. Shortly after their change of residence, a
party of Indians concealed themselves on the river hill immediately

back of Armstrong's house, and in full view of the
stockade at Belpre. At early dawn, Mr. Armstrong heard
that so often fatal decoy, the turkey-call, and taking his dog
and gun, sallied forth to secure a shot before they should leave
the roost. One of the sons, taken prisoner, and now living
near Columbus, Ohio, relates what followed. "After proceeding
a short distance, either from the dog, or some other
circumstance, Armstrong became alarmed, retreated to the
house and barred the door. The Indians pursued, and endeavored
to get it open, but failing on the first attempt, they
took a rail to effect their purpose. While they were endeavoring
to gain entrance, Mr. Armstrong snapped his gun, in an
attempt to shoot, but it did not go off; he then ascended
the loft, and removing some of the roof, escaped through the
opening, while the Indians were breaking down the door.
The alarm was given to the stockade in upper Belpre, and
a party went over. They met Mr. Armstrong and the two
eldest sons, who had been in the mill. Mrs. Armstrong they
found dead on the outside of the cabin. It appeared as if she
had attempted to escape from the roof, as her husband did;
but being a heavy woman, had probably fallen and broken her
leg. Two children were dead, and a little girl still alive, but
insensible, though when disturbed, she would say, `What's
that?' Mrs. Armstrong and two children were scalped; one
child about two years of age was not. Two sons who were
in the cabin were taken prisoners, and carried to their towns,
where they remained until the close of the war, when their
elder brothers brought them from the Indian country."

Between the years 1784 and 1793, several murders were
committed along the river below Grave creek; the exact dates
of some of these we have not been able to ascertain, but will
nevertheless give a brief notice of the occurrences. Adam

Roe and family, who had been forted at Tomlinson's, considering
it safe to return to their improvement, and becoming
very tired of fort life, determined to start for the mouth of
Fishing creek, and were all killed ten miles below.

Proctor was an early settler near the mouth of a stream
now known as Proctor's run. Finding the Indians becoming
troublesome, he proposed to remove his family to Wheeling,
but the savages were likely to intercept him, and he was compelled
to look for some other place. A few miles up the run is a
remarkable rock, presenting a concealed entrance, but opening
out into a fine large chamber, perfectly dry, and spacious
enough to contain thirty or forty persons. Into this Proctor
moved with his family, and for some time succeeded in eluding
the wily savages. He however, continued imprudently
to venture out, and the Indians discovering his tracks, stationed
a spy to ascertain his place of abode. This once done,
they made an attack, killing the occupant with two of his
children. Mrs. Proctor having a child in her arms, elicited
the sympathy of an old Indian who stood by, and declared
that she should not be killed. She was then made prisoner,
but succeeded that night in eluding their vigilance, and
making her escape. She reached Wheeling the next day in
safety.