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INDIAN WAR DANCE. 
 

 THE 
 
 INDIAN: 
 
 BATTLE-FIELD 
 
 AND IN THE 
 
 . BY 
 
 JOHN FROST, LL.D. 
 
 BOSTON- 
 THAYER & ELDRIDQE, 
 
 n4 <x 116 Washington Street. 
 1860. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 18o7,. by 
 
 WENTWORTH & COMPANY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massaohusetts. 
 
TO THE HEADEU. 
 
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 PREFACE. 
 
 These sketches are drawn from a great variety 
 of sources, and -are intended, not only to exhibit 
 the Indian character in all its phases, but to com- 
 prise in a small compass a valuable collection of 
 narratives of Indian warfare, embracing views of 
 
 their peculiar methods of strategy, ambuscades, and 
 
 (t) 
 
rt 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 surprises— their treatment of prisoners, and their 
 other characteristic manners and customs. 
 
 By the aid of Mr. Croome, and other eminent 
 artists, I have been able to illustrate the volume 
 quite profusely with engravings. I trust that the 
 work will be found a useful as well as interesting 
 contribution to historical literature. 
 
 

 
 
 ^' .unt ; 
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Indian Character, 
 
 Indian Friendship, 
 
 The Captive Sister, 
 
 Parental Affection, - 
 
 The Friendly Manoeuvre, - 
 
 Grand Sun, 
 
 Tecumseh and the Prophet, 
 
 The Destruction of Montreal, 
 
 A Buffalo Hunt, 
 
 Indian Papooses, 
 
 Mrs. Hanson and her Children, 
 
 The Story of Shonka, 
 
 9 
 17 
 
 24 
 32 
 41 
 46 
 57 
 69 
 77 
 82 
 86 
 99 
 
 (yii) 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 The Death of Canonchet, - - - 116 
 
 Church and the Narragansett, - - 127 
 
 The Death of King Philip, - - - 135 
 
 The Rain Makers, - _ _ - 145 
 
 The Bride's Rescue, _ - _ _ 163 
 
 Yondeega's Gratitude, - _ _ 181 
 
 The Burning of Deerfield, - _ . 205 
 
 The Fire Water, - - - - 213 
 
 Farmer's Brother, - - . - - 222 
 
 The Prophet of the Allegany, - - 228 
 
 Peter Otsaquette, - - _ - 241 
 
 Perfidy Punished, - - - - ' 248 
 
 Adventures of Daniel Boone, - _ - 255 
 
 Adventure of General Putnam, - - 287 
 
 The Indians of St. Mary's, - - - 305 
 
 Red Jacket, - - - - - 332 
 
 Weatherford, - - _ _ _ 345 
 
 The Battle of Saco Pond, - - _ 357 
 WiNGINA, _____ 365 
 
 Harold Dean, or the Indian's Revenge, - 370 
 Bienville's Expedition against the Chicasaws. - 387 
 
STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 INDIAN GEATITUDE. 
 
 OT long after Connecti- 
 cut began to be set- 
 tled by the English, a 
 stranger Indian came 
 one day to a ta.vern in 
 one of its towns in the 
 dusk of the evening, 
 and requested the hos- 
 tess to supply him with something to eat and 
 
 (9) 
 
STORIES OF TUE INDIANS. 
 
 drink ; at the same time he honestly told her 
 that he could not pay for either, as he had 
 had no success in hunting for several days ; 
 but that he would return payment as soon as 
 he should meet with better fortune. 
 
 The hostess, who was a very ill-tempered 
 woman, not only flatly refused to relieve 
 him, but added abuse to her unkindness, 
 calling him a lazy, drunken fellow, and told 
 him that she did not work so hard herself, to 
 throw away her earnings upon such vaga- 
 bonds as he was. 
 
 There was a man sitting in the same room 
 of the tavern, who, on hearing the conversa- 
 tion, looked up, and observing the Indian's 
 countenance, which plainly showed that he 
 was suffering severely from want and fatigue, 
 and being of a humane disposition, he told 
 the woman to give the poor wanderer some 
 supper, and he would pay for it. 
 
 She did so: .and when the Indian had 
 finished his meal, he turned towards his be- 
 nefactor, thanked him, and told him that he 
 should not forget his kindness. " As for the 
 
INDIAN GRATITUDE. 11 
 
 woman," he added, "all I can give her is a 
 story — if she likes to hear it." The woman, 
 being now in a rather, better temper, and 
 having some curiosity to hear what he had 
 to tell, readily consented, and the Indian ad- 
 dressed her as follows : 
 
 "I suppose you read the Bible?" The 
 woman assented. "Well," continued the 
 Indian, "the Bible say, God made the world, 
 and then he took him, and looked on him, 
 and say, ' It's all very good.' Then he made 
 light, and took him, and looked on him, and 
 say, ' It's all very good.' Then he made dry 
 land, and water, and sun, and moon, and 
 grass, and trees, and took him, and say, ' It's 
 all very good.' Then he made beasts, and 
 bird, and fishes, and took him, and looked on 
 him, and say, 'It's all very good." Then he 
 made man, and took him, and looked on him, 
 and say, ' It's all very good.' And last of all 
 he made ivoman, and took him, and looked on 
 him, and he no dare say one such wordP The 
 Indian, having told his story, departed. 
 
 Some years after, the man who had be- 
 
12 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 friended the Indian had occasion to go some 
 distance into the wilderness between Litch- 
 field and Albany, which is now a populous 
 city, but then contained only a few houses. 
 Here he was taken prisoner by an Indian 
 scout, and carried off into Canada. When he 
 arrived at the principal settlement of their 
 tribe, which was on the banks of the great' 
 river St. Lawrence, some of the Indians pro- 
 posed that he should be put to death, in re- 
 venge for the wrongs that they had suffered 
 from the white men ; and this probably would 
 have been his fate, had not an old Indian 
 woman, or squaw, as they are called, de- 
 manded that he should be given up to her, 
 that she might adopt him in place of her son, 
 whom she had lately lost in war. He was 
 accordingly given to her, and, as it is custo- 
 mary under such circumstances, was thence- 
 forth treated in the same manner as her own 
 son. 
 
 In the following summer, as he was one day 
 at work in the forest by himself, felling trees. 
 an Indian, who was unknown to him, came; 
 
INDIAN GRATITUDE. I I 
 
 up and asked him to meet him the following 
 day at a certain spot which he described. 
 The white man agreed to do so, but not with- 
 out some apprehension that mischief was in- 
 tended. During the night these fears in- 
 creased to so great a degree, as effectually to 
 prevent his keeping his appointment. 
 
 However, a few days after, the same In- 
 dian, finding him at work, mildly reproved him 
 for not keeping his promise. The man made 
 the best excuse he could, but the Indian was 
 not satisfied until he had again*promised to 
 meet him the next morning at the place 
 already agreed on. 
 
 Accordingly, when he arrived at the spot, 
 he found the Indian already there, provided 
 with two muskets and powder, and two knap- 
 sacks. The Indian ordered him to take one 
 of each, and to follow him. The direction of 
 their march was southward. The man fol- 
 lowed without the least knowledge of what 
 he was to do, or whither he was going, but 
 he concluded that if the Indian intended to 
 do him harm, he would have despatched him 
 
 2 
 
14 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 at the first meeting, and certainly would not 
 have provided him with a musket and powder 
 for defence. His fears, therefore, gradually 
 subsided, although the Indian maintained an 
 obstinate silence when he questioned him 
 concerning the object of their expedition. 
 
 In the day time they shot and cooked as 
 much game as they required, and at night 
 they kindled a fire by which they slept. After 
 a fatiguing journey through the forest for 
 many days, they came one morning to the 
 top of a hill from which there was the pros- 
 pect of a cultivated country, interspersed 
 with several snug farm-houses. 
 
 "I^ow," said the Indian to his joyfulcom- 
 panion, "do you know where you are?" 
 " 1 ^s," replied he, " we are not ten miles 
 fr^ "my own village." "And do you not 
 knc . J poor Indian at the tavern? — you feed 
 him — y^^i speak kind to him — I am that poor 
 Indian ; — now go home." Having said this, 
 he bade him farewell, and the man joyfully- 
 returned to his own home. 
 
* 
 
SILOUEE. 
 
INDIAN FEIENDSHIR 
 
 OME of the earlier set- 
 tlers of Yirginia acted 
 in the most barbarous 
 manner towards their 
 Indian neighbors, and 
 it is, therefore, not won- 
 derful that they some- 
 times received a ter- 
 rible punishment. But though revenge was 
 usually uppermost in the breasts of the injured 
 ones, instances occurred in which the sacred 
 
 2* (17) 
 
18 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 feeling of friendship triuiLphed over that pas- 
 sion and the prejudice of the race. 
 
 On one occasion, Colonel Bird was employed 
 by the English government to transact some 
 business with the tribe of Ch^rokees. It un- 
 fortunately happened that a short time before 
 he went among them, some white people had 
 seized two Indians, who had given them some 
 trifling offence, and had put them to death ; 
 and the Indians, indignant at the outrage, 
 determined to take revenge whenever the op- 
 portunity offered. The appearance of Colonel 
 Bird presented the wished-for opportunity, 
 and consultations were held as to the most 
 effectual means of getting him into their 
 power, and of making him the sacrifice. 
 
 Colonel Bird perceived their intentions, and 
 felt that he had just cause for alarm, as he 
 was in their country, without the means of 
 escape. Among the neighboring Cherokees, 
 was one named Silouee, celebrated as a chief 
 and pow-wow, or medicine man. He had 
 known Colonel Bird for some time, had eaten 
 with liim, and felt a deep friendship for him.^ 
 
INDIAN FRIENDSHIP. ^ 19 
 
 Silouee told Colonel Bird not to be alarmed, 
 and even assured him that the Indians should 
 not injure him. . At length, in a general 
 council of the chiefs and old men of the tribe, 
 it was determined in spite of Silouee' s earnest 
 remonstrances, that Colonel Bird should be 
 put to death in revenge for the loss of their 
 countrymen. 
 
 Two warriors were despatched to Colonel 
 Bird's tent, to execute the cruel sentence. 
 Silouee. insisted on accompanying them. On 
 reaching the tent, Silouee rushed in before 
 them, threw himself on the bosom of his friend, 
 and as the warriors approached, he exclaimed, 
 "This man is my friend; before you take 
 him, you must kill me,'' 
 
 Awed by Silouee' s determined magnanimity, 
 the warriors returned to the council, and re- 
 lated what had occurred. Indians generally 
 respect a faithful friend as much as they 
 esteem one who is implacable in his revenge. 
 The consultation was reversed. Silouee's 
 noble conduct altered their purpose. They 
 therefore released Colonel Bird, and bade him 
 
20 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 go to his home in peace. Silouee acted as his 
 guide and protector until Colonel Bird came 
 in sight of his tent. As they parted, the In- 
 dian's last words to his friend were, "When 
 you see poor Indian in fear of death from 
 cruel white men, remember Silouee." 
 
 Some years after Colonel Bird's life had 
 been saved by Silouee, he became a Yirginia 
 planter, and took up his residence near the 
 James river. Silouee retained his friendship 
 for him, becoming his near neighbor.. Like 
 many of his nation, he had, by intercourse 
 with the whites, acquired a great taste for 
 " strong waters," or ardent spirits, and the 
 dignity of the chief was frequently lowered 
 by drunkenness. On one occasion. Colonel 
 Bird had gone to another part of the country, 
 on business, and had left the care of his plan- 
 tation to his overseer. The tobacco had ob- 
 tained some size, and a long drought coming 
 on, there was a prospect that the crop would 
 be much injured. We have stated that Si- 
 louee was a pow-wow, or Indian medicine- 
 man and conjurer. One day when he came 
 
INDIAN GRATITUDE. 21 
 
 to the plantation, the overseer expressed his 
 opinion that the tobacco crop would be en- 
 tirely lost, if rain did not soon fall. 
 
 *'Well," said the Indian, "what will you 
 give me if I bring rain ?" 
 
 '* You bring rain," said the overseer, 
 laughing. 
 
 *'Me can," said the Indian. "Give me 
 two bottles of rum — only two, and me bring 
 rain enough." 
 
 The overseer cast his eye towards the hea- 
 vens, but could discern no appearance that 
 foretold rain. To gratify the Indian, he pro- 
 mised to give him the two bottles of rum 
 when Colonel Bird arrived, in case the rain 
 should come speedily and save the crop of 
 tobacco. 
 
 Silouee now fell to pow-wowing with all his 
 might, making grimaces, contorting his body, 
 and uttering strange, unintelligible ejacula- 
 tions. 
 
 It was a hot, close day, and it so happened 
 that towards evening, the sky, which had 
 been clear for some weeks, clouded over, and 
 
22 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 the appearance of tlie heavens was strongly 
 in favor of rain. Before midnight thunder 
 was heard, and heavy showers of rain watered 
 the colonel's plantation thoroughly ; while it 
 was remarked that the showers were so par- 
 tial that the neighboring plantations were 
 left almost as dry as they were before. The 
 Indian waited quietly till the rain was over, 
 and then walked away. A few days after, 
 the colonel returned to the plantation, and, 
 when Silouee heard of his arrival, he went 
 immediately to visit him. 
 
 " Master Bird," said he, '' me come for my 
 two bottles of rum." 
 
 " Tour two bottles of rum," exclaimed the 
 colonel, pretending not to know any thing of 
 the matter; "pray do I owe you two bottles 
 of rum?" 
 
 " You do," replied the Indian. 
 
 "How so?" inquired the colonel. 
 
 " Me bring you rain — me save your crop," 
 said the Indian. 
 
 "You bring rain," said the colonel; "no 
 such thing." 
 
INDIAN GRATITUDE. 23 
 
 "Me did/' persisted the Indian; "me 
 loved you ; me tell overseer to give me two 
 bottles of rum, and then me bring rain. Over- 
 seer say he would ; me bring cloud, then rain ; 
 now me want rum." 
 
 " You saw the cloud," said Colonel Bird ; 
 " you are a sad cheat." 
 
 "Me no cheat," said the Indian; "me saw 
 no cloud ; me hring cloud." 
 
 "Well, well," said the colonel, you are an 
 old friend, and you shall have the rum, since 
 you beg so hard for it. But mind you, it is 
 not for the rain. The Great Spirit sent the 
 rain, not you." 
 
 "Well," said the Indian, ''your tobacco 
 had rain upon it — why others have noThef 
 Answer that, colonel, if you can." 
 
THE CAPTIYE SISTEE. 
 
 ^STANCES are recorded 
 in which white children 
 have been captured and 
 brought up by the In- 
 dians, and have so far 
 forgotten early associa- 
 tions as to become iden- 
 tified in habits and man- 
 ners with their red captors. In most of these 
 (24) 
 
THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 
 
THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 2? 
 
 cases, the adopted Indian could not be in- 
 duced to return to the haunts of civilization 
 and the friends of his or her race ; which fact 
 would seem to prove that, either the life of the 
 Indian is happier than that of the civilized 
 white man, or, the qualities of our nature 
 may be altered by the power of habit. 
 
 In 1778, the family of Mr. Jonathan Slocum, 
 near Wilkesbarre, (Campbell's Wyoming,) 
 Pennsylvania, was attacked by Indians. 
 Within the house were two girls, aged nine 
 and five years, a son of thirteen, a little boy 
 of two and a half, and their mother. The 
 men were working in the field, and two ^nths 
 were in the porch grinding a knife. One of 
 the latter was shot and scalped with his own 
 knife. The eldest sister seized the little boy 
 and ran with him towards the fort. The In- 
 dians took the boy who had been turning the 
 grindstone, young Slocum, and his sister 
 Frances, and prepared to depart. Little Slo- 
 cum being lame, they set him down, and pro- 
 ceeded on their way. One of the Indians 
 threw the little girl over his shoulder, and 
 
28 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 her weeping face was the last object of the 
 mother's gaze. 
 
 About a month afterwards, the savages re- 
 turned, murdered the aged grandfather, shot 
 a ball into the leg of the lame boy, and then 
 plunging into the woods were heard of no 
 more. Tears passed away ; the mother died 
 of grief for her lost child. The two remaining 
 brothers, grown to manhood, resolved to aS' 
 certain the fate of their sister. They made 
 every inquiry, travelled through the west and 
 into the Canadas, but all in vain ; and for 
 fifty-eight years, the captive's fate was un- 
 known. 
 
 At length, in 1836, accident discovered what 
 inquiry could not. The Hon. Gr. W. Ewing, 
 United States agent to Indian Territory, while 
 travelling on the banks of the Mississiniwa, 
 lost his way and was benighted, and compelled 
 to take shelter in an Indian wigwam. The 
 agent was kindly received, and after supper, 
 entered into conversation with the hostess. 
 He was soon surprised by observing that her 
 hair was fine and flaxen-colored, and that, 
 
THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 29 
 
 under her dress, her skin appeared to be 
 white. Upon inquiry, she informed him 
 that she was the daughter of white parents, 
 that her name was Slocum, that when five 
 years old she had been carried captive, by In- 
 dians, from a house on the Susquehanna. All 
 else was forgotten. 
 
 On reaching home, Ewing wrote an account 
 of the affair, and sent it to Lancaster for pub- 
 lication. Through neglect, however, it was 
 not published for two years afterwards ; but 
 it was then seen by Mr. Slocum, of Wilkes- 
 barre, the little boy who had been saved by 
 the girl, sixty years before. He immediately 
 started for Indiana, accompanied by the sister 
 who had saved him, at the same time writing 
 to his brother to meet him at the wigwam. 
 The incidents connected with this visit have 
 been preserved, and are interesting. 
 
 On entering the cabin, they beheld an In- 
 dian woman, apparently seventy-five years 
 old, painted and jewelled. Tet her hair was 
 as the agent had described it, and her skin 
 beneath her dress appeared white. They ob- 
 
 3* 
 
30 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 tained an interpreter and began to converse. 
 We may imagine the feelings of the little 
 party, while they listened to the Indian wo- 
 
 an's tale. The incidents of the assault and 
 capture — too well known already^were dis- 
 closed with a faithfulness which left no room 
 for doubt. " How came your nail gone ?" in- 
 quired the sister. '^My elder brother pounded 
 it off when I was a little child in the shop." 
 " What was your name then ?" She did not 
 remember. " Was it Frances ?" She smiled 
 on hearing the long-forgotten sound, and 
 promptly answered, "Yes." All were now 
 satisfied that they were of one family, and 
 yet there was little joy in that meeting. 
 There was a sadness, not merely through re- 
 membrance of the past, but of a kind present, 
 deep, painful ; for though the brothers were 
 walking the cabin unable to speak, and the 
 sister was sobbing, yet there sat the poor In- 
 dian sister, no throb of emotion disturbing 
 her equanimity. 
 
 Her previous history may soon be told. It 
 was the Delaware tribe who had taken her 
 
THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 31 
 
 captive, and when she grew up among them, 
 she married one of their chiefs. He died or 
 deserted her, and she then married a Miami. 
 She had two daughters, who both grew up and 
 married Indians. They all lived in one cabin. 
 The brothers and sisters tried to persuade 
 their sister to return with them, and, if she 
 desired it, to bring her children. She answered 
 that she had always lived with the Indians ; 
 that they had always been kind to her ; that 
 she had promised her late husband, on his 
 death-bed, never to leave them, and that pro- 
 mise she was resolved to keep. The three 
 generous relatives then retraced their steps, 
 sorrowing that they were compelled to leave 
 their sister in the wilderness. 
 
 The Indian sister died in 1847. Her man- 
 ners and customs were those of the Indians 
 until her death, yet she was admired alike 
 by the red and white men. Her grave is on a 
 beautiful knoll, near the confluence of the Mis- 
 sissiniwa and the Wabash, a spot which had 
 been her residence for nearly thirty years. 
 
PARENTAL AFFECTION. 
 
 TJRING the frequeut wars 
 between the Indians 
 and the early settlers 
 of JSTew England, the 
 former defeated a 
 party of English sol- 
 diers. Their retreat 
 was without order ; 
 
 and a young English officer, in attempting to 
 
 ■ (32) 
 
THE ENGLISH OFFICER. 
 
PARENTAL AFFECTION. 35 
 
 escape, was pursued by two savages. Find- 
 ing escape impracticable, and determined to 
 sell his life as dearly as possible, lie turned 
 round to face his foes. A violent struggle 
 commenced, and he must have fallen, if an 
 old chief had not thrown himself between the 
 combatants. The red men instantly retired 
 with respect. The old man took the young 
 oflBcer by the hand, dispelled his fears, and 
 led him through the forest to his wigwam, 
 where he treated him with the greatest kind- 
 ness. He seemed to take pleasure in the 
 youth's company ; he was his constant com- 
 panion ; he taught him his language, customs, 
 and arts. Thoughts of home would sometimes 
 haunt the young Englishman. At these 
 times, Wanou would survey his young friend 
 attentively, and the tears would fill his 
 eyes. 
 
 ^When the spring returned, the war was 
 renewed, and Wanou, whose strength was 
 still sufficient to bear the toils of war, set out 
 with the rest of the braves, and his whit© 
 prisoner. 
 
36 STOEIBS OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 When the Indians arrived in sight of the 
 English camp, Wanou showed the young 
 ofi&cer his countrymen, observing his counte- 
 nance the while. '* There are thy brethren," 
 said he, " waiting to fight us. Listen to me. 
 I have saved thy life. I have taught thee to 
 make a canoe, and bow and arrows ; to hunt 
 the bear and the buffalo ; to bring down the 
 deer at full speed, and to outwit even the 
 cunning fox. What wast thou when I first 
 led thee to my wigwam ? Thy hands were 
 like those of a child ; they served neither to 
 support nor to defend thee ; thou wert igno- 
 rant, but from me thou hast learned every 
 thing. Wilt thou be ungrateful, and raise up 
 thy arm against the red man ?" 
 
 The young man declared with warmth that 
 he would rather lose his own life than shed 
 the blood of his Indian friends. The old war- 
 rior covered his face with his hands, bow^pd 
 his head and remained in that posture for 
 some time, as if overcome by some painful 
 recollection. Then with a strong effort, he 
 said to the young man, " Hast thou a father ?" 
 
PAEENTAL AFFECTION. 37 
 
 "He was living," said the young man, 
 " when I left my native country." 
 
 " Oh ! how fortunate he is still to have a 
 son!" cried the Indian; and then, after a 
 moment's silence, he added, '** Knowest thou 
 that I have been a father ; but I am no longer 
 so I I saw my son fall in battle ; he fought 
 bravely by my side ; my son fell covered with 
 wounds, and he died like a man ! but I re- 
 venged his death; yes, I revenged his death P* 
 Wanou pronounced these words with a ter- 
 rible vehemence ; but at length he became 
 calm, and turning towards the east, where 
 the sun had just risen, he said, "Young man, 
 thou seest that glorious light — does it afford 
 thee any pleasure to behold it ?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the of&cer, "I never look 
 upon the rising sun without pleasure, or with- 
 out feeling thankful to our great father who 
 created it." 
 
 *' I am glad thou art happy, but there is 
 no more pleasure for me," said Wanou. A 
 moment after, he showed the young man a 
 
 4 
 
38 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 sbrub in full bloom, and said, "Hast thou 
 any pleasure in beholding this plant ?" 
 
 "Yes, great pleasure," replied the young 
 man. 
 
 " To me, it can no longer give pleasure,'' 
 said the old man ; and then embracing the 
 young Englishman, he concluded with these 
 words, ''Begone! hasten to thy country, that 
 thy father may still have pleasure in behold- 
 ing the rising sun, and the flowers of spring." 
 Poor chief; the death of his beloved son had 
 broken his heart. 
 
THE INDIAN CARRYING OFF M*DOUGAL CHILD. 
 
^c^^^-^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 THE FKIENDLY MANCEUYEB. 
 
 ANY years ago, a 
 Scotcliman and his 
 wife, named M'Dou- 
 gall, emigrated to 
 America. Having but 
 very little money, he 
 purchased some land 
 upon the verge of 
 civilization, where it 
 was sold for a low price. By great exertions 
 
 4* (41) 
 
42 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and the aid of his neighbors, M'Dougall soon 
 had a comfortable farm, well stocked. But 
 the inconvenience of distance from the church, 
 market, and mill, were felt, and caused dis- 
 content with the location. 
 
 One day, while the farmer was away at the 
 mill, the duty of driving up the cows to milk 
 devolved on the wife, and that thrifty and 
 industrious woman went out in quest of them. 
 Not accustomed to going far from the house, 
 she wandered through the woods, got bewil- 
 dered, and just before dark sank upon the 
 ground in despair. An Indian hunter soon 
 came along, and guessing her situation, in- 
 duced her to follow him to his wigwam, where 
 she was kindly fed and lodged for the night 
 by the hunter's wife. 
 
 In the morning, the Indian conducted his 
 guest to her cattle, and thence home. M'Dou- 
 gall, grateful for his service, presented him 
 with a suit of clothes, and invited him to be- 
 come his frequent visitor. Three days after- 
 wards he returned, and endeavored, partly by 
 signs, and partly in broken English, to induce 
 
THE FRIENDLY MANCEUVRE. 43 
 
 M'Dougall to follow him ; but the Scotchman 
 refused. Time was precious to him who owed 
 all his comforts to hard labor, and the Indian 
 repeated his entreaties in vain. The poor 
 fellow looked grieved and disappointed ; but 
 a moment after, a sudden thought struck him. 
 Mrs. M'Dougall had a young child, which 
 the Indian's quick eye had not failed to no- 
 tice; and finding that words and gestures 
 would not persuade his Scotch friend, he ap- 
 proached the cradle, seized the child, and 
 darted out of the house with the speed of the 
 antelope. The father and mother instantly 
 followed, calling loudly on him to return ; but 
 he had no such intention. He led them on, 
 now slower, now faster, occasionally turning 
 towards them, laughing and holding up the 
 child to their view. After proceeding in this 
 manner for some time, the Indian halted on 
 the margin of a most beautiful prairie, covered 
 with the richest vegetation, and extending 
 over several thousand acres. In a moment 
 after, the child was restored to its parents, 
 who, wondering at such strange proceedings, 
 
44 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 stood awhile panting for breath. On the 
 other hand, the Indian seemed overjoyed at 
 the success of his manoQ^vre, and never did a 
 human being frisk about and gesticulate with 
 greater animation. 
 
 At length his feelings found vent in broken 
 English, nearly in these words : — " You think 
 Indian treacherous ; you think him wish 
 steal the child. JS'o, no, Indian has child of 
 his own. Indian knew you long ago; saw 
 you when you not see him ; saw you hard 
 working man. Some white men bad and hurt 
 poor Indian. You not bad ; you work hard 
 for your wife and child ; but you choose bad 
 place ; you never make rich there. Indian 
 see your cattle far in the forest ; think you 
 come and catch them ; you not come ; your 
 wife come. Indian find her faint and weary ; 
 take her home ; wife fear go in ; think Indian 
 kill her! No, no! Indian lead her back; 
 meet you very sad ; then very glad to see 
 her. You kind to Indian; give him meat 
 and drink and better clothes than your own. 
 Indian grateful; wish you come here; not 
 
THE FRIENDLY MANCEUVRE. -$5 
 
 come; Indian very sorry; take the child; 
 know you follow child; if Indian farm, In- 
 dian farm here. Good ground ; not many 
 trees ; make road in less than half a moon ; 
 Indian help you. Indians your friends ; come, 
 live here." 
 
 M'Dougall instantly saw the advantages of 
 the change, and taking the red man's advice, 
 the day was soon fixed for the removal of his 
 log-house, along with the rest of his goods and 
 chattels ; and the Indian, true to his word, 
 brought a party of his red brethren to assist 
 in one of the most romantic removals that 
 ever took place. A fertile spot was selected 
 in the " garden of the desert," a fine farm soon 
 smiled around, and M'Dougall had no cause 
 to regret the Indian's friendly manoeuvre. 
 
GRAND-SUN^. 
 
 EAND-SUN was a chief of 
 the JN'atehez tribe. Sun 
 was a common name for all 
 chiefs of that nation; this 
 chief was particularly dis- 
 tinguished in the first war 
 with the French, in which the iN'atchez en- 
 gaged, and the title of Great-Sun was given 
 him by his people. He was brave, wise, and 
 generous, and a friend to the whites until the 
 (46) 
 
THE PARTING OF GIIAND-SUN AND GRIFFIN. 
 
GRAND-SUN. 49 
 
 haughty and overbearing disposition of one 
 man brought ruin upon the whole colony. 
 The affair occurred in 1729. 
 
 Grand-Sun resided in the beautiful village 
 called White Apple, near the French post of 
 iN'atchez, the commandant of which was M. 
 Chopart. This officer had been removed from 
 his post on account of his misconduct and 
 and abominable injustice towards the Indians, 
 but had been reinstated, and his conduct had 
 been the same as before. He projected the 
 building an elegant village, and none appeared 
 to suit his purpose so well as the White Ap- 
 ple of Grand-Sun. He sent for the chief to 
 the fort, and unhesitatingly told him that he 
 must give up his village, and remove else- 
 where. Grand-Sun stifled his surprise, and 
 replied, " that his ancestors had lived in that 
 village for as many years as there were hairs 
 in his double queu, and, therefore, it was good 
 that they should continue there still." This 
 was interpreted to the commandant, and he 
 became so enraged, that he threatened Grand- 
 Sun with punishment if he did not comply. 
 
 5 
 
50 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 A council of the Natchez was held. They 
 saw that all was hopeless, unless they could 
 rid themselves of Chopart by some stratagem. 
 They decided to attempt it. To gain time, 
 an offer was made to the commandant, of tri- 
 bute, in case he should permit them to remain 
 on their lands until harvest. The offer was 
 accepted, and the Indians matured their plan. 
 Bundles of sticks were sent to the neighbor- 
 ing tribes, and their meaning explained. 
 Each bundle contained as many sticks as 
 days before the massacre of the French at 
 iN'atchez ; and that no mistake should arise 
 in regard to the fixed day, every morning a 
 stick was drawn from the bundle and broken 
 in pieces, and the day of the last stick was 
 that of the execution. 
 
 The secret was confided to none but the 
 older warriors, who could be depended upon. 
 But Grand-Sun was compelled to make a 
 great sacrifice of private feeling in revenging 
 the wrongs of his countrymen. He had won 
 the respect and esteem of several of the 
 French hunters by his generosity and other 
 
GRAND-SUN. 51 
 
 noble qualities; and the very intimate ac- 
 quaintance of one of them in particular. This 
 was Armand Griffin, whose family resided at 
 Natchez, while he engaged in the laborious 
 but profitable business of hunting. Grand- 
 Sun and Griffin had become close friends. The 
 hospitable door of the chief's wigwam was 
 ever oj)en to the hunter, and the latter fre- 
 quently visited ,him, Grand-Sun had in- 
 structed him in all the mysteries of wood- 
 craft, and Griffin being naturally of a daring 
 and restless temper, had become one of the 
 boldest and best hunters in that part of the 
 country. In return, he instructed Grand-Sun 
 in many of the arts of the white man, and 
 thus mutual services strengthened the links 
 of friendship. 
 
 When Grand-Sun had matured his scheme 
 of revenge, he thought of the situation of 
 Griffin's family, and without hinting his pur- 
 pose, advised the hunter to remove them for 
 
 « 
 
 a time. But he either would not or could 
 not, disregarding the earnest entreaties of the 
 chief to that effect. As the appointed day 
 
52 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 approached, and the security of feeling among 
 the French promised success to the scheme 
 of massacre, Grand-Sun renewed his entrea- 
 ties, but still without daring to disclose the 
 secret intent. Grifi&n not only said that his 
 family must remain at the post, but that he 
 himself must be there upon the day which 
 the chief knew was fixed for the dreadful re- 
 venge. After a struggle between friendship 
 and patriotism, the chief with stoic fortitude 
 resolved to sacrifice his friend rather than 
 disclose his scheme and thus trust to the 
 white man's faith for keeping such a secret. 
 About sunset the day before the massacre, 
 Grifl&n and Grand-Sun, who had been out 
 hunting during the day, arrived at the verge 
 of the village of White Apple. A crowd of 
 red men were assembled 'to welcome their 
 great chief. The friends stopped upon an 
 elevated piece of ground near the Indians. 
 Grand-Sun had just been urging upon his 
 friend the removal of his family from the fort. 
 But as Grif&n had given signs of beginning 
 to suspect something wrong, he suddenly 
 
GRAND-SUN. 53 
 
 checked his persuasive appeal and taking his 
 hand, thus bade him farewell for ever. ' 
 
 "■ White man, you are my friend. We have 
 eat, slept, and hunted together. My wigwam 
 ever welcomed you, and you repaid me. The 
 belt of friendship has been brighten between 
 us, and it should not be soiled. The great 
 fire of day is fast going out, and you must re- 
 turn to your pretty wife and children. When 
 it shall again be kindled, many things may 
 be done which may part us for ever. Fare- 
 well!" The bold hunter was affected by the 
 manner of the chief, and for a while hung his 
 head as if a gloom had come over him. But 
 rousing himself, he bade the chief farewell, 
 and returned to the post at N'atchez. 
 
 Suspecting what he should have suspected 
 long before, Griffin, as soon as he returned to 
 the fort, bade his wife and children prepare 
 themselves for leaving the place, and she 
 complied, with many questions concerning 
 the reason for this strange movement. Griffin 
 could not exactly say. But he had resolved 
 to leave the fort, and take shelter in a neigh- 
 
 5* 
 
54 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 boring Indian village belonging to the Nat- 
 cliez, and in an opposite direction from White 
 Apple. Here he had a friend, and he would 
 feel secure. The escape was accomplished. 
 
 The next day the fort was surprised and 
 the whole body of the French within the fort 
 and its neighborhood were massacred. Grif&n 
 and his family, and a few hunters alone es- 
 caped, and all these through the interposition 
 of Grand-Sun, who thus remained true to 
 friendship, while he maintained and executed 
 his scheme for relieving his countrymen from 
 the oppressor. This great chief not long af- 
 terwards, was taken prisoner by a French 
 expedition from Louisiana, his people almost 
 annihilated, and he, the "last of his line,'^ 
 died in his dungeon! Griffin ever cherished 
 his memory, and exerted himself to save him, 
 but in vain. The white man was relentlest.. 
 
THE COUNCIL OF VINCENNES. 
 
THE PROPHET. 
 
 TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 
 
 T 
 
 ECUMSEH, (tli3 
 Crouching Pan- 
 ther,) was one of the 
 greatest chiefs who 
 ever led the red men 
 to battle. He was by 
 birth a Shawanee, a 
 tribe which has ever been noted for its aver- 
 
 (57) 
 
58 STORIES OF THE INDIANS, 
 
 sion to the ?s^hites. He was born about 1770, 
 and first became distinguished in 1792, when, 
 at the head of a small band of warriors, he 
 surprised and murdered a party of whites 
 upon Hacker's Creek. From that time he 
 continued to acquire a reputation for all the 
 qualities, which, in the estimation of the In- 
 dians, make up a great leader. 
 
 In 1809, Governor Harrison, agreeably to 
 instructions from government, purchased of 
 the Delawares, Miamis, and Shawanees, the 
 country on both sides of the Wabash, and ex- 
 tending sixty miles above Yincennes. Te- 
 cumseh demurred to the sale, and Harrison, 
 wishing to conciliate him, appointed the 12th 
 day of August, 1810, as the time, and Yin- 
 cennes, as the place, for holding a council to 
 fettle his claims. In this council, Tecumseh 
 delivered a speech, which 'eloquently unfolded 
 his views of the aggressions of the white 
 men, and urged that the sale of the land was 
 invalid, because not made with the consent 
 of all the red men living upon it. After Te- 
 cumseh had concluded his speech, and was 
 
BATTLE OF TIPPECANOE. 
 
 ^ 
 
TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 61 
 
 about to seat himself, he observed that no 
 chair had been placed for him. Harrison im- 
 mediately ordered one, and as the interpreter 
 handed it to him, he said, "Tour father re- 
 quests you to take a chair." ''My father!" 
 said Tecumseh, with sublime dignity, "the 
 sun is my father, and the earth is my mother, 
 and on her bosom will I repose ;" and imme- 
 diately seated himself upon the ground. 
 When the council had concluded, Tecumseh 
 expressed his intention to fight rather than 
 yield the ground. " It is my determination," 
 said he, " nor will I give rest to my feet until 
 I have united all the red men in the like 
 resolution." 
 
 The threat was soon executed. The active 
 chief visited all the western tribes from the 
 Winnebagoes to the Creeks, and made use of 
 all means of persuasion to unite them, with 
 one aim, the maintenance of their country 
 free from the rule of the white man. Super- 
 stition is mighty among the red men, and 
 Tecumseh had the means of turning it to his 
 purpose. His brother, the well-known Pro- 
 
 6 
 
62 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 phet, (Ellskwatawa,) had obtained a reputa- 
 tion among the neighboring Indians, as a 
 medicine-man and conjurer. He announced 
 that the Great Spirit had conversed with him, 
 and commissioned him to restore the red men 
 to their primitive power. The Indians be- 
 lieved in the truth of the commission, and the 
 Prophet, by his craft and eloquence succeeded 
 in gaining an influence among them, second 
 only to that of his great-spirited brother. A 
 formidable confederacy was soon formed of 
 which Tecumseh was the head. 
 
 The battle of Tippecanoe was fought on the 
 night of November 6, 1811, in which sixty-two 
 Americans were killed and one hundred and 
 twenty-six wounded. The Prophet is said to 
 have conducted the attack, but did not ex- 
 pose himself to danger. The vigilance of 
 Harrison, and the bravery of his men, re- 
 pulsed the Indians, inflicting upon them a 
 severe loss. Tecumseh was not in the battle. 
 
 When the war broke out between Great 
 Britain and the United States, Tecumseh 
 seized the opportunity to join the British ge- 
 
BATTLE OF THE THAMES. 
 
TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 65 
 
 neral with a large body of his warriors. He 
 received the commission of brigadier-general 
 in the British army. During the latter part 
 of his active life, he was under the direction 
 of General Proctor ; but is said to have been 
 greatly dissatisfied with his proceedings. 
 After Perry's victory on Lake Erie, Proctor 
 abandoned Detroit, and retreated up the 
 Thames, pursued by General Harrison, with 
 the American army. Harrison overtook him 
 near the Moravian town, on the 5th of Octo- 
 ber, 1813. By a novel manoeuvre, ordered 
 by Harrison, and executed by Colonel John- 
 son, the British line was broken and put to 
 flight. The Indians, commanded by Tecum- 
 seh, maintained their ground, with a noble 
 determination. The great chief fought with 
 desperation, until a shot in the head from an 
 unknown hand, laid him dead upon the field. 
 His warriors, as if they had lost their spirit, 
 then fled, leaving about one hundred and 
 twenty men dead upon the field. 
 
 Tecumseh was about forty-four years of age 
 when he fell. He was about five feet ten in- 
 
 6* 
 
66 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 TECUMSEH. 
 
 ches in height, and of a noble appearance* 
 His carriage was erect and lofty — his motions 
 quick — his eyes keen, black, and piercing — 
 his visage stern, with an air of hauteur, which 
 expressed his pride of spirit. He is said to 
 have been reserved and stern in his manners. 
 After his fall, the Indians became anxious to 
 secure peace, conyinced that their cause was 
 hopeless. The Prophet lost their confidence, 
 and sunk into insignificance. 
 
BURYING THE HATCHET. 
 
PLACE D'ARMES, MONTREAL. 
 
 THE DESTRUCTION OF MONTREAL. 
 
 BOUT 1687, the Iroquois, from 
 some neglect on tlie part of 
 the governor of New York, 
 were induced to join the 
 French interest; and in a 
 council which was held in the Iroquois coun- 
 try, the hatchet was buried and a treaty con- 
 
 (69) 
 
70 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 eluded, by which the Indians promised to be- 
 come the firm allies of the French. The Di- 
 nondadies, a tribe of the Hurons, were con- 
 sidered as belonging to the confederate In- 
 dians, but from some cause they were dissa- 
 tisfied with the league with the French, and 
 wished by some exploit to indicate that they 
 preferred the English interest. 
 
 Adaris, nicknamed by the French, "the 
 Eat," was the head chief of the Dinondadies, 
 and famous for his courage and cunning. He 
 put himself at the head of one hundred war- 
 riors, and intercepted the ambassadors of the 
 Five JS'ations at one of the falls in Hadarak- 
 kin river, killing some and taking others pri- 
 soners. These he informed that the French 
 governor had told him that fifty warriors of 
 the Five Nations were coming that way to 
 attack him. They were astonished at the 
 governor's perfidiousness, and so completely 
 did Adaris' s plot succeed, that these ambas- 
 sadors were deceived into his interest. The 
 Five Nations did not doubt that this outrage 
 upon their ambassadors was owing to the 
 
THE DESTRUCTION OF MONTREAL. 71 
 
 treachery of the French governor, and they 
 immediately formed a scheme of revenge, the 
 object of which was the destruction of Montreal. 
 
 At that time the island of Montreal con- 
 tained the largest and most flourishing set- 
 tlement in Canada. It contained about fif- 
 teen hundred inhabitants, and many flourish- 
 ing plantations. The Indians thought that 
 if they could destroy Montreal, the French 
 power in Canada might easily be annihilated 
 They assembled about twelve hundred of their 
 bravest warriors, and marched for the banks 
 of the St. Lawrence, with great secrecy and 
 rapidity. The time fixed for the attack was 
 the 26th of July, 1688, when the harvest was 
 approaching. 
 
 Just before day break, on the morning of 
 the 26th, the whole body of the Indians 
 crossed the river, and advanced towards the 
 settlement, endeavoring to make their march 
 as secret as possible. The great body of the 
 French settlers were reposing in security, but 
 here and there an early and industrious far- 
 mer was abroad, looking after his farm and 
 
72 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 BOULARD DISCOVERING THE INDIANS. 
 
 cattle. One of these, named Boulard, was 
 tlie first to discover the approach of the 
 enemy. He was walking down his lane, be- 
 tween a thicket and his wheat-field, when he 
 heard a strange rustling in the bushes, at a 
 little distance, and he stopped and leaned 
 against a fence to observe what caused it. 
 Boulard had not waited long before he 
 caught sight of the form of two or three red 
 men coming through the wood, and he was 
 discovered by them at the same time. As one 
 of them rushed toward him, gun in hand, he 
 sprang into his wheat-field and endeavored to 
 
THE DESTRUCTION OF MONTREAL. 
 
 73 
 
 BURNING OF MONTREAL. 
 
 conceal the direction he took. A volley of 
 musketry followed him, and he was wounded, 
 yet he kept on, fear giving him extraordinary 
 strength, and he reached the house of a neigh- 
 bor. The alarm was given ; but it was too 
 late. Twelve hundred red men, like so many 
 bloodhounds, were let loose upon unprepared 
 settlers. An awful silence followed. Houses 
 were burned, plantations destroyed and the 
 inhabitants butchered. But little resistance 
 
 7 
 
74 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 was oflfered to the Indians, and that was soon 
 crushed. About four hundred persons were 
 killed upon the spot, and the Indians retreated 
 carrying with them a large number of priso- 
 ners, who were doomed to a more dreadful 
 death. The loss of the Indians in the expe- 
 dition was trifling. 
 
 The destruction of Montreal was a terrible 
 blow to the French, and it was so well fol- 
 lowed up by the powerful Iroquois, that it is 
 thought, if the Indians had been acquainted 
 with the art of attacking fortified places, the 
 enemy would have been forced to abandon 
 Canada. But they had not the necessary 
 knowledge ; and the English were not wise 
 enough to supply them with it. The French 
 maintained their ground, and the Iroquois 
 were afterwards punished for their unscru- 
 pulous warfare. 
 
A BUFFALO HUNT. 
 
A BUFFALO HUNT. 
 
 |HE buffalo hunt, next to the Indian 
 battle, is the most intensely ex- 
 citing scene which may be wit- 
 nessed among the wilds of the 
 west. To the buffalo, the Indian looks for 
 food, for clothing, and for religious and house- 
 hold implements. He regards the hunting 
 
 7* (77) 
 
78 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 of that animal not only as a pleasure, but a 
 duty ; and when once it is rumored through 
 a village that a herd of buffalo is in sight, 
 their warriors who have faced death in a hun- 
 dred forms, bring out their swiftest horses, 
 and spring upon them ; and when the whole 
 party rush across the field eager to engage 
 the bellowing herd, a scene is presented for 
 which it would be in vain to look for a parallel, 
 even among the cane-brakes of Africa, or the 
 jungles of India. 
 
 The Indians have several methods of at- 
 tacking buffaloes. The most exciting as well 
 as the most dangerous one is that in which 
 they run round the herd for the purpose of 
 destroying it. The hunters, well-mounted 
 with bows and lances, divide themselves into 
 two columns, take opposite directions, and at 
 the distance of a mile or two, draw gradually 
 around the herd, and having formed a circle, 
 close upon their prey at regular distance, On 
 seeing the danger, the herd run in the oppo- 
 site direction, where th^y are met by the 
 other party. The circle is gradually closed, 
 
A BUFFALO HUNT. 79 
 
 and the parties unite. By this time, the buf- 
 faloes are wheeling about in a crowded and 
 confused mass, wounding and climbing upon 
 each other. Then their destruction com- 
 mences. Galloping round, the hunters drive 
 the arrows and lances to the hearts of their 
 victims. Sometimes, the animals, furious 
 from their wounds, plunge forward, and bear 
 down horse and rider, goring and crushing 
 the former, while the active Indian escapes. 
 Sometimes the herd divides in two, and the 
 hunters, blinded by clouds of dust, are wedged 
 in among the crowding beasts, when their 
 only chance of escape is to leap over the backs 
 of the herd, leaving the horse to his fate. Oc- 
 casionally, a buffalo selects a particular horse- 
 man, and pursues him at full speed, until, 
 when stooping to lift the horse upon his horns, 
 he receives in the side the warrior's shaft. 
 Some of the Indians, when pursued, throw 
 their buffalo robe over the horns and eyes of 
 the furious animal, and, dashing by its side, 
 drives the weapon to its heart. Others dash 
 off upon the prairie, in pursuit of the few 
 
80 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 who got separated from the herd. In a few 
 moments, the hunt is changed into a despe- 
 rate battle, and gradually the whole mass of 
 buffaloes sink in death. 
 
 The hunters then dismount from their 
 horses, and claim their prey by drawing the 
 arrows or lances from the sides of the dead 
 beasts, and showing their private marks. 
 Quarrels are generally avoided by this plan. 
 After all the animals have been claimed, the 
 warriors hold a council, and after smoking a 
 few pipes, ride into the village and announce 
 the result. Of course, every thing there is 
 in commotion, and soon long processions of 
 dogs and women issue forth, skin and cut up 
 the prey, and return amid loud acclamations 
 to their homes. 
 
O 
 
 o 
 <1 
 
 I— « 
 Q 
 
TEEATMENT OF INDIAN CHILDKEK 
 
 -^ HOSE who have had the best 
 
 opportunities for knowing 
 the real character of the In- 
 dians, have remarked, among 
 many other good traits, the 
 ^^^^^^^^ great affection they have for 
 their children, and the respect which young 
 people pay, not only to their parents, but to 
 all elderly people. 
 
 (83) 
 
84 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 Before the little papoose can walk alone, 
 it is confined in a cradle, which is carried on 
 the mother's back while she is at her work, 
 or set upright against the wall, or a tree. 
 The mother teaches her children how to make 
 leggins, moccasons, and many other things 
 that have already been described ; and if she 
 be a good mother, as many of the squaws are, 
 she is particular in keeping her daughters 
 constantly employed, so that they may have 
 the reputation of being industrious girls, 
 which is a recommendation to the young men 
 to marry them. Corporal punishment is sel- 
 dom used for the correction of children ; but 
 if they commit any fault, it is common for 
 the mother to blacken their faces, and send 
 them out of the lodge. Sometimes they are 
 kept a whole day in this situation, as a pu- 
 nishment for their misconduct. They think 
 that corporal punishment breaks the spirit 
 of the child, and in this they appear to be 
 wiser than their white brethren. Parental 
 love should persuade and guide the bold of 
 spirit, not destroy their courage. 
 
TREATMENT OF INDIAN CHILDREN. 85 
 
 When the boys are six or seven years of 
 age, a small bow and arrows are put into 
 their hands, and they are sent out to shoot 
 birds around the lodge or village ; this they 
 continue to do for five or six years, and then 
 their father procures for them short guns, and 
 they begin to hunt ducks, geese, and small 
 game. They are then gradually instructed 
 in the whole art of hunting, and lastly of 
 warfare. 
 
 The Indians generally appear to be more 
 afflicted at the loss of an infant, or young 
 child, than at that of a person of mature 
 years. The latter, they think, can provide 
 for himself in the country whither he has 
 gone, but the former is too young to do so. 
 The men appear ashamed to show any signs 
 of grief, at the loss of any relation, however 
 dear he might have been to them ; but the 
 women do not conceal their feelings ; and on 
 the loss of either husband or child, they cui 
 off their hair, disfigure their face and limbs 
 with black paint, and even with cuts, and burn 
 all their clothes except a few miserable rags. 
 
 8 
 
MES. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 
 
 HE colonists of New England, 
 and especially of New Hamp- 
 shire, were rarely free from 
 apprehension of attack from 
 their savage neighbors. A de- 
 sultory warfare was carried on, even when 
 treaties seemed to have secured peace. Houses 
 were burned, farms, teeming with the fruits 
 of toil, destroved, and the inhabitants either 
 (86) 
 
MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 
 
i 
 
MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 89 
 
 murdered or made captive. Many instances 
 are recorded, of suffering and torture inflicted 
 upon families, which have been thus attacked. 
 One of the most remarkable has been pre- 
 served in the words of one of the victims, Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Hanson. 
 
 On the 27th of June, 1724, a party of In- 
 dians were discovered in the neighborhood of 
 the house of John Hanson, in Dover township, 
 New Hampshire. They had been lurking in 
 the fields several days, watching their oppor- 
 tunity, when Mr. Hanson and his men should 
 be out of the way. At the favorable moment, 
 thirteen Indians, all naked, and armed with 
 tomahawks and guns, rushed into the house, 
 killing one child as soon as they entered the 
 door. The leader came up to Mrs. Hanson, 
 but gave her quarter. At the time of the 
 attack, she had a servant and six children. 
 Two of the little ones were at play in the or- 
 chard, and the youngest child, only fourteen 
 days old, was in the cradle. 
 
 The Indians set about rifling the house, 
 fearing to be interrupted by the return of some 
 
 8* 
 
90 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 of the men, and packed up every thing that 
 pleased them, and which they could conve- 
 niently carry. The two children running in 
 from the orchard, the Indians killed one to 
 prevent its shrieking, and gave the other to 
 the mother. The dead children were scalped, 
 and the mother, the servant, and the remain- 
 ing children, were taken hastily from the 
 house. Mrs. Hanson was weak, yet she had 
 no alternative but to go, or die, and her child- 
 ren were frightened into silence. After wading 
 through several swamps, and some brooks, 
 and carefully avoiding every thing like a road, 
 the party halted at night-fall, about ten miles 
 from Mrs. Hanson's house. A fire was lighted, 
 and a watch set, while the rest of the party 
 sought repose. 
 
 Just as the day appeared, the Indians were 
 awake, and, with their captives, set out again 
 and travelled very hard all that day through 
 swamps and woods without a path. At night 
 all lodged upon the cold ground, wet and 
 weary. Thus for twenty-six days, day by 
 day, the party tr£|.velled, over mountains, 
 
MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 91 
 
 througli tangled thickets, and across rivers 
 and swamps, sometimes without any food but 
 pieces of beaver skin, and enduring hardships, 
 to which the Indians were accustomed, but 
 which the poor captives could scarcely bear. 
 
 At the end of twenty-six days, the party 
 reached the borders of Canada, and as they 
 were compelled to separate, the captive family 
 was divided between them. This was a sore 
 parting, but the mother had become resigned 
 to her fate, and taught her children by ex- 
 ample how to suffer. The eldest daughter, 
 about sixteen years of age, was first taken 
 away, and soon after, the second daughter 
 and the servant, at that time very weak for 
 want of food, were divided between Indians 
 going to different parts of the country. The 
 mother, her babe and little boy remained with 
 the chief, and soon arrived at his village. 
 
 The captives were now well provided with 
 food, but were compelled to sleep upon the 
 cold ground in a wigwam. As the wigwam 
 was often removed from place to place for 
 the convenience of hunting, and the winter 
 
92 iSTOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 was approaching, the lodging became disa- 
 greeable, and the small children suffered se- 
 verely. When the chief arrived at the In- 
 dian fort, he was received with great rejoicing, 
 and every savage manifestation of respect. 
 The shouting, drinking, feasting, and firing 
 of guns continued several days. 
 
 The chief had not long been at home, be- 
 fore he went out on a hunting excursion, and 
 was absent about a week. Mrs. Hanson was 
 left in his wigwam, and ordered to get in 
 woodj gather nuts, &c. She diligently per- 
 formed what she had been commanded ; but 
 when the chief returned, he was in an ill- 
 humor ; not .having found any game. He 
 vented his spleen upon the poor captives, of 
 course. Mrs. Hanson was roughly treated, 
 and her son knocked down. She did not dare 
 to murmur, however, fearing his anger. 
 
 The squaw and her daughter, sympathized 
 with the captives, informed them that the 
 chief was anxious now to put them to death, 
 and that they must sleep in another wigwam 
 that night. During the night Mrs. Hanson 
 
MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 93 
 
 slept very little, being in momentary expec- 
 tation that the chief would come to execute 
 bis threat. But the chief, weary with hunt- 
 ing, went to rest and forgot it. The next 
 morning he went out hunting again, and re- 
 turned with some wild ducks. He was then 
 in a better humor, and all had plenty to eat. 
 The same state of things occurred very fre- 
 quently, and Mrs. Hanson was in constant 
 fear of death. Sometimes she suffered much 
 from want of food. 
 
 By this time, hard labor, mean diet^ and 
 want of natural rest, had reduced Mrs. Han- 
 son so low, that her milk was dried up, and 
 her babe thin and weak. By the advice of 
 an Indian squaw, she made some nourishing 
 broth for her babe, by broiling some kernels 
 of walnuts, and mixing them with water and 
 Indian meal. But her joy at the success of 
 this invention was clouded by the action of 
 the chief. Observing the thriving condition 
 of the child, he made the mother undress it, 
 and told her he intended to eat it as soon as 
 it was fat enough. This was a terrible blow 
 
94 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 to the hopes which Mrs. Hanson had begun 
 to conceive, and his cruel treatment of her 
 and her children was aggravated every day, 
 till, at length, he fell violently ill, and for a 
 time lingered on the brink of death. He 
 thought that this was a judgment of God upon 
 him for his cruelty, and he professed repent- 
 ance. After this he soon recovered, and the 
 captives were better treated. 
 
 The chief, a few weeks after his recovery, 
 made another remove, journeying two days 
 upon the ice, while the snow was falling. 
 Mrs. Hanson soon perceived the object of his 
 journey. The chief, with the hope of obtain- 
 ing a ransom for his captives, wished to get 
 nearer to the French. He visited the latter, 
 but returned in a very bad humor. Mrs. 
 .Hanson was compelled to lodge in a sort of 
 hole made in the snow, and covered with 
 boughs, in order to keep from his presence. 
 
 At length the captives were taken to the 
 French, and after some trouble and delay, 
 ransomed for six hundred livres. They were 
 treated very kindly and furnished with all 
 
MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 95 
 
 those things of whicli they had been so long 
 destitute. One month after they fell into 
 the hands of the French, Mr. Hanson came 
 to them with the hope of ransoming the other 
 children and servant. With much difficulty 
 he recovered his younger daughter, but the 
 eldest was retained by the squaw to whom 
 she had been given, as she intended to marry 
 her to her son. JSTo means could induce the 
 squaw to surrender the daughter, and the 
 party were forced to return without her. The 
 servant was ransomed. On the 1st of July, 
 1725, the parfy arrived home, having been 
 among the Indians and French more than 
 twelve months, and, having suffered every 
 hardship which the captive of the Indian 
 generally endures. 
 
 Mr. Hanson could not rest while his 
 daughter remained in the hands of the In- 
 dians, and he resolved to make another at- 
 tempt to ransom her. On the 19th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1727, he set out on his journey, but 
 died on the way, between Albany and Canada. 
 In the meantime, a young Frenchman inter- 
 
96 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 posed, and by marrying the daughter himself, 
 secured her freedom; the Indians acknow- 
 ledging the freedom of their captives as soon 
 as married by the French. The daughter re- 
 turned to her anxious and suffering mother 
 and sisters, and thus gave them some conso- 
 lation for the loss of Mr. Hanson. 
 
 

 SHON-KA. 
 
SHON-KA. 
 
 THE STORY OF SHOJST-KA. 
 
 R. CATLIN met with many in- 
 teresting adventures, while 
 visiting the numerous and 
 savage tribes of the great 
 west, for the purpose of seeing 
 and judging for himself, of their habits and 
 modes of life. One of these he details in his 
 valuable work, as "The Story of the Dog," 
 
 (99) 
 
100 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and as it is a fine illustration of the dangers 
 encountered by adventurers among the In- 
 dians, and of the certainty of revenge which 
 follows an injury, we here insert it. 
 
 I had passed up the Missouri river, on the 
 steamboat Yellow Stone, on which I ascended 
 the Missouri to the mouth of Yellow Stone 
 river. "While going up, this boat, having on 
 board the United States Indian agent, Major 
 Sanford — Messrs. Pierre, Chouteau, McKenzie 
 of the American Fur Company, and myself, 
 as passengers, stopped at this trading-post, 
 and remained several weeks ; where were as- 
 sembled six hundred families of Sioux In- 
 dians, their tents being pitched in close order 
 on an extensive prairie on the bank of the 
 river. 
 
 This trading-post, in charge of Mr. Laidlaw, 
 is the concentrating place, and principal 
 depot, for this powerful tribe, who number, 
 when all taken together, something like forty 
 or fifty thousand. On this occasion, five or 
 six thousand had assembled to see the steam- 
 boat, and meet the Indian agent, which, and 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 101 
 
 whom they knew were to arrive about this 
 time. During the few weeks that we re- 
 mained there, I was busily engaged painting 
 my portraits, for here were assembled the 
 principal chiefs and medicine-men of the na- 
 tion. To these people, the operations of my 
 brush were entirely new and unaccountable, 
 and excited amongst them the greatest curi- 
 osity imaginable. Every thing else, even the 
 steamboat, was abandoned for the pleasure 
 of crowding into my painting-room, and wit- 
 nessing the result of each fellow's success, as 
 he came out from under the operation of my 
 brush. 
 
 They had been at first much afraid of the 
 consequences that might flow from so strange 
 and unaccountable an operation ; but having 
 been made to understand my views, they be- 
 gan to look upon it as a great honor, and af- 
 forded me the opportunities that I desired ; 
 exhibiting the utmost degree of vanity for 
 their appearance, both as to features and 
 dress. The consequence was, that my room 
 was filled with the chiefs who sat around, ar- 
 
 9* 
 
102 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 ranged according to the rank or grade which 
 they held in the estimation of their tribe ; 
 and in this order it became necessary for me 
 to paint them, to the exclusion of those who 
 never signalized themselves, and were with- 
 out any distinguishing character in society. 
 
 The first man on the list, was Ha-wan-ghee- 
 ta, (one horn,) head chief of the nation, and 
 after him the subordinate chief, or chiefs of 
 bands, according to the estimation in which 
 they were held by the chief or tribe. My 
 models were thus placed before me, whether 
 ugly or beautiful, all the same, and I saw at 
 once there was to be trouble somewhere, as I 
 could not paint them all. The medicine-men 
 or high priests, who are esteemed by many 
 the oracles of the nation, and the most im- 
 portant men in it — becoming jealous, com- 
 menced their harangues, outside of the lodge, 
 telling them that they were all fools — that 
 those who were painted would soon die in 
 consequence ; and that these pictures, which 
 had life to a considerable degree in them, 
 would live in the hands of white men after 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 103 
 
 they were dead, and make them sleepless and 
 endless trouble. 
 
 Those whom I had painted, though evi- 
 dently somewhat alarmed, were unwilling to 
 acknowledge it, and those whom I had not 
 painted, unwilling to be outdone in courage, 
 allowed me the privilege ; braving and defy- 
 ing the danger that they were evidently more 
 or less in dread of. Feuds began to arise 
 too, among some of the chiefs of the differ- 
 ent bands, who, (not unlike some instances 
 among the chiefs and warriors of our own 
 country,) had looked upon their rival chiefs 
 with unsleeping jealousy, until it had grown 
 into disrespect and enmity. An instance of 
 this kind presented itself at this critical 
 juncture, in this assembly of inflammable 
 spirits, which changed in a moment, its fea- 
 tures, from the free and jocular garrulity of 
 an Indian leyee, to the frightful yells and 
 agitated treads and starts of an Indian battle. 
 I had in progress at this time, a portrait of 
 Mah-to-tchee-ga, (little bear;) of the One-pa- 
 pa band, a noble fine fellow, who was sitting 
 
104 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 before me as I was painting. I was painting 
 almost a profile view of his face, throwing a 
 part of it into shadow, and had it nearly- 
 finished, when an Indian by the name of 
 Shon-ka, (the dog,) chief of the Caz-a-zshee-ta 
 band, an ill-natured and surly man — de- 
 spised by the chiefs of every other band, en- 
 tered the wigwam in a sullen mood, and seated 
 himself on the floor in front of my sitter, where 
 he could have a full view of the picture in its 
 operation. After sitting a while with his 
 arms folded, and his lips stifly arched with 
 contempt, he sneeringly spoke thus : 
 " Mah-to-tchee-ga is but half a man." 
 Dead silence ensued for a moment, and 
 nought was in motion save the eyes of the 
 chiefs, who were seated around the room, and 
 darting their glances about upon each other 
 in listless anxiety to hear the sequel that was 
 to follow ! During this interval, the eyes of 
 Mah-to-tchee-ga had not moved — his. lips be- 
 came slightly curved, and he pleasantly asked 
 in low and steady accent, "Who says that?" 
 *' Shon-ka says it," was the reply, " and Shon- 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 105 
 
 ka can prove it.'^ At this the eyes of Mah- 
 to-tchee-ga, which had not yet moved, began 
 steadily to turn, and slow, as if upon pivots, 
 and when they were rolled out of their sockets 
 till they had fixed upon the object of their 
 contempt ; his dark and jutting brows were 
 shoving down in trembling contention, with 
 the blazing rays that were actually burning 
 with contempt, the object that was before 
 them. ''Why does Shon-ka say it?" 
 
 "Ask We-chash-a-wa-kon, (the painter,) 
 he can tell you ; he knows you are but half a 
 man — he has painted but one half of your 
 face, and knows the other half is good for 
 nothing!" 
 
 " Let the painter say it, and I will believe 
 it ; but when the Dog says it let him prove it." 
 
 "Shon-ka has said it, and Shon-ka can 
 prove it ; if Mah-to-tchee-ga be a man, and 
 wants to be honored by the white men, let 
 him not be ashamed ; but let him do as Shon- 
 ka has done, give the white man a horse, and 
 then let him see the whole of your face with- 
 out being ashamed." 
 
106 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 ** When Mah-to-tchee-ga kills a white man 
 and steals his horses, he may be ashamed tc 
 look at a white man until he brings him a 
 horse ! When Mah-to-tchee-ga waylays and 
 murders an honorable and brave Sioux, be- 
 cause he is a coward and not brave enough to 
 meet him in fair combat, then he may be 
 ashamed to look at a white man till he has 
 given him a horse I Mah-to-tchee-ga can look 
 at any one ; and he is now looking at an old 
 woman and a coward!" 
 
 This repartee, which had lasted for a few 
 minutes, to the amusement and excitement 
 of the chiefs, being thus ended: The Dog 
 suddenly rose from the ground, and wrapping 
 himself in his robe, left the wigwam, consi- 
 derably agitated, having the laugh of all the 
 chiefs upon him. 
 
 The Little Bear had followed him with his 
 piercing eyes until he left the door, and then 
 pleasantly and unmoved, resumed his posi- 
 tion, where he sat a few minutes longer, until 
 the portrait was completed. He then rose, 
 and in a most graceful and gentlemanly man^ 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 10 T 
 
 ner, presented to me a very beautiful shirt of 
 buckskin, richly garnished with quills of por- 
 cupine, wringed with scalp-locks (honorable 
 memorials) from his enemies' heads, and 
 painted, with all his battles emblazoned on 
 it. He then left my wigwam, and a few steps 
 brought him to the door of his own, where 
 the Dog intercepted him, and asked, ** "What 
 meant Mah-to-tchee-ga, by the last words that 
 he spoke to Shon-ka?" " Mah-to-tchee-ga said 
 it, and Shon-ka is not a fool — that is enough." 
 At this the Dog walked violently to his own 
 lodge ; and the Little Bear retreated into his, 
 both knowing from looks and gestures what 
 was about to be the consequence of their 
 altercation. 
 
 The Little Bear instantly charged his gun, 
 and then, as their custom is, threw himself 
 upon his face, in humble supplication to the 
 Great Spirit for his aid and protection. His 
 wife, in the meantime, seeing him agitated, 
 and fearing some evil consequences, without 
 knowing any thing of the preliminaries, se- 
 
108 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 cretly withdrew the bullet from the gun, and 
 told him not of it. 
 
 The Dog's voice, at this moment, was 
 
 heard, and recognized at the door of Mah-to- 
 
 ^hee-ga's lodge, " If Mah-to-tchee-ga be a 
 
 whole man, let him come out and prove it ; 
 
 it is Shon-ka that calls him I" 
 
 His wife screamed; but it was too late. 
 The gun was in his hand, and he sprang out 
 of the door — both drew and simultaneously 
 fired. The Dog fled uninjured ; but the Little 
 Bear lay weltering in his blood (strange to 
 say !) with all that side of his face shot away, 
 which had been left out of the picture ; and, 
 according to the prediction of the Dog, " good 
 for nothing ;" carrying away one half of the 
 jaws, and the flesh from the nostrils and cor- 
 ner of the mouth, to the ear, including one 
 eye, and leaving the jugular vein entirely ex- 
 posed. Here was a "coup;" and any one 
 accustomed to the thrilling excitement that 
 such things produce in an Indian village, can 
 form some idea of the frightful agitation 
 amidst several thousand Indians, who were 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 109 
 
 diYided into jealous bands or clans, under 
 ambitious and rival chiefs ! In one minute a 
 thousand guns and bows were seized! A 
 thousand thrilling yells were raised ; and 
 many were the fierce and darting warriors 
 who sallied round the Bog for his protection — 
 he fled amidst a shower of bullets and arrows ; 
 but his braves were about him ! The blood 
 of the Onc-pa-pas was roused, and the indig- 
 nant braves of that gallant band rushed forth 
 from all quarters, and, swift upon their heels, 
 were hot for vengeance ! On the plain, and 
 in full view of us, for some time, the whizzing 
 arrows flew, and so did bullets, until the Dog 
 and his brave followers were lost in distance 
 on the prairie ! In this rencontre, the Dog 
 had his arm broken ; but succeeded, at length, 
 in making his escape. ' 
 
 On the next day after this affair took place, 
 Little Bear died of his wound, and was buried 
 amidst the most pitiful and heart-rending 
 cries of his distracted wife, whose grief was 
 inconsolable at the thought of having been 
 herself the immediate and innocent cause of 
 
 10 
 
110 STORIES OF THE INDIANS* 
 
 his death, by depriving him of his supposed 
 protection. 
 
 This marvellous and fatal transaction was 
 soon talked through the village, and the eyes 
 of all this superstitious multitude were fixed 
 on me as the cause of the calamity — my paint- 
 ings and brushes were instantly packed, and 
 all hands. Traders and Travellers, assumed 
 at once a posture of defence. 
 
 I evaded, no doubt, in a great measure, the 
 concentration of their immediate censure 
 upon me, by expressions of great condolence, 
 and by distributing liberal presents to the 
 wife and relations of the deceased; and by 
 uniting also with Mr. Laidlaw and the other 
 gentlemen, in giving him honorable burial, 
 where we placed over his grave a handsome 
 Sioux lodge, and hung a white flag to wave 
 over it. 
 
 On this occasion many were the tears that 
 were shed for the brave and honorable Mah- 
 to-tchee-ga, and all the warriors of his band 
 swore sleepless vengeance on the Dog, until 
 his life should answer for the loss of their chief. 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA, 111 
 
 On the day that he was buried, I started 
 for the mouth of the Yellow Stone, and while 
 I was gone, the spirit of vengeance had per- 
 vaded nearly all the Sioux country in search 
 of the Dog, who had evaded pursuit. His 
 brother, however, a noble and honorable fel- 
 low, esteemed by all who knew him, fell in 
 their way in an unlucky hour, when their 
 thirst for vengeance was irresistible, and they 
 slew him. Kepentance deep, and grief were 
 the result of this rash act, when they beheld 
 a brave and worthy man fall for so worthless 
 a character ; and as they became exasperated, 
 the spirit of revenge grew more desperate 
 than ever, and they swore they never would 
 lay down their arms or embrace their wives 
 and children until vengeance, full and com- 
 plete, should light upon the head that deserved 
 it. This brings us again to the first part of 
 my story, and in this state were things in 
 that part of the country, when I was descend- 
 ing the river, four months afterwards, and 
 landed my canoe, as I before stated, at Laid* 
 law's trading-post. 
 
112 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 The excitement had been kept up all sum- 
 mer among these people, and their supersti- 
 tions bloated to the full brim, from circum- 
 stances so well calculated to feed and increase 
 them. Many of them looked at me at once 
 as the author of all these disasters, consider- 
 ing I knew that one half of the man's face 
 was good for nothing, or that I would not have 
 left it out of the picture, and that I must have 
 foreknown the evils that were to flow from 
 the omission ; they consequently resolved 
 that I was a dangerous man, and should suf- 
 fer for my temerity in case the Dog could not 
 be found. Councils had been held, and in all 
 the solemnity of Indian medicine and mystery, 
 I had been doomed to die ! At one of these, 
 a young warrior of the Onc-pa-pa band, arose 
 and said, " The blood of two chiefs has been 
 sunk into the ground, and a hundred bows 
 are bent which are' ready to shed more ! on 
 whom shall we bend them ? I am a friend 
 to the white man, but here is one whose me- 
 dicine is too great — he is a great medicine- 
 man ! his medicine is too great ! he was the 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 113 
 
 death of Mah-to-tchee-ga I he made only one 
 side of his face ! he would not make the other — 
 the side that he made was alive ; the other 
 was dead, and Shon-ka shot it off! How is 
 this? Who is to die?" 
 
 After him, Tah-zee-kee-da-cha (torn belly,) 
 of the Yankton band, arose, and said, " Fa- 
 ther, this medicine-man has done much harm I 
 Tou told our chiefs and warriors, that they 
 must be painted — you said he was a good 
 man, and we believed you ! you thought so, 
 my father, but you see what he has done ! — 
 he looks at our chiefs and our women and 
 then makes them alive ! ! In this way he has 
 taken our chiefs away, and he can trouble 
 their spirits when they are dead ! — they will 
 be unhappy. If he can make them alive by 
 looking at them, he can do us much harm ! — 
 you tell us that they are not alive — we see their 
 eyes move ! — their eyes follow us wherever we 
 go, that is enough ! I have no more to say!" 
 After him arose a young man of the One-pa- 
 pa band. "Father! you know that I am the 
 brother of Mah-to-tchee-ga I — you know that 
 
 10* 
 
114: STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 I loved him — both sides of his face were good, 
 and the medicine-man knew it also ! Why 
 was half of his face left out ? He never was 
 ashamed, but always looked white man in 
 the face ! Why was that side of his face shot 
 off? Tour friend is not our friend, and has 
 forfeited his life — we want you to tell us 
 where he is — we want to see him !" 
 
 Then rose Toh-ki-e-to (a medicine-man,) of 
 the Yankton band, and principal orator of 
 the nation. " My friend, these are young men 
 that speak — I am not afraid ! your white me- 
 dicine-man painted my picture, and it was 
 good — I am glad of it — I am very glad to see 
 that I shall live after I am dead ! — I am old 
 and not afraid ! — some of our young men are 
 foolish. I know that this man put many of 
 our buffaloes in his book ! for I was with him, 
 and we have had no buffaloes since to eat, it 
 is true — but I am not afraid ! ! his medicine 
 is great and I wish him well — we are friends." 
 
 Thus rested the affair of the Dog and its con- 
 sequences, until I conversed with Major Bean, 
 the agent for these people, who arrived in St. 
 
THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 
 
 115 
 
 Louis some weeks after I did, bringing later 
 intelligence from them, assuring me that the 
 Dog had at length been overtaken and killed, 
 near the Black-hills, and that the affair 
 might now for ever be considered as settled. 
 
THE DEATH OF CANONCHET. 
 
 ANONCHET was the sa- 
 chem of the powerful 
 tribe of Narragansetts, 
 who inhabited a part of New 
 England claimed by the govern- 
 ment of Connecticut. In the 
 war between the Indians and the colonists, 
 which began in 1675, and is commonly called 
 **King Philip's war," the Narragansetts were 
 (116) 
 
DEATH OF CANONCHET. 
 
CANONCHET. 119 
 
 led by their own wrongs and the arts of Philip 
 to join in the Indian confederacy. But they 
 suffered severely for their hostility. Their 
 fort was attacked by a large force of colonists, 
 under Governor Winslow, and the greater 
 part of them perished by the guns of the 
 English, or in the flames of the burning fort. 
 
 The remnant of the JS'arragansetts fled, un- 
 der the command of Canonchet and Punno- 
 quin, both of whom were filled with inveterate 
 hatred of the colonists. Canonchet was the 
 son of the celebrated Miantonomoh, and the 
 remembrance of his father's fate rankled in 
 his breast, and rendered him fierce and cruel 
 beyond his nature. The Narragansetts reached 
 the Wachusetts hills in safety, where they 
 united with the Nipmucks and other friendly 
 tribes. But they were in a destitute condi- 
 tion, and Canonchet was obliged to make 
 great exertions to supply them with food, in 
 order to keep them faithful to him. 
 
 Early in April, 1676, he proposed the dar- 
 ing design of an expedition to Seekonk, to 
 procure seed corn to plant along the Connec- 
 
120 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 ticut river, where he had taken refuge. At 
 the head of about fifty men, he marched to- 
 wards Seekonk, and soon reached Black Stone 
 river. There he encamped, and imagining 
 that no colonial force was nearer than Ply- 
 mouth, dismissed twenty of his men. 
 
 On the 27th of March, Captain Dennison 
 had left Stonington, with a body of troops, on 
 an exploring expedition, in search of Indians. 
 When near Seekonk, he captured two squaws, 
 who informed him of Canonchet's encamp- 
 ment. The captain quickened his march, and 
 as Canonchet's men, instead of giving the 
 alarm, fled in different directions, the colo- 
 nists were in his camp before he knew of their 
 approach. The chief, seeing his men run, 
 sent out two or three to ascertain the cause. 
 One of these returned to the wigwam, crying 
 out that the English were upon them. 
 
 Canochet fled. While running around the 
 hill near his camp, he was recognized by 
 the Nanticks, who commenced a vigorous 
 pursuit. The chase was long and exciting. 
 One by one, the chief threw off his blanket, 
 
CANONCHET. 121 
 
 bis silver-laced coat, and his belt of peag. 
 His pursuers gained upon him ; and giving 
 Tip all hope of reaching the woods, he hurried 
 towards the river. Monopoide, a Pequot, 
 noted for his swiftness, pursued in such a 
 way as to force the chief to cross or be caught. 
 Canonchet plunged into the stream, and sw^am 
 for the opposite shore. The English, filled 
 with rage and fearful of being baffled, hur- 
 ried to the river's bank, in order to shoot him 
 if an opportunity offered ; but Canonchet 
 would have escaped, had not an accident oc- 
 curred, which, to use his own words, ''made 
 his heart and bowels turn within, so that he 
 became like a rotten stick, and void of 
 strength." As he reached a shallow part of 
 the stream, he began to wade, when his foot 
 struck against a stone, and he fell irito the 
 water. His gun became useless. 
 
 Monopoide, seeing the accident, leaped into 
 the water, and daringly swam towards the 
 chief, who was probably intimidated by super- 
 stition. When seized, Canonchet did not re- 
 sist, although he was a man of great size, 
 
 11 
 
122 ^ STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 strength, and courage. A young man, named 
 Staunton, now approached and asked the 
 chief some questions in regard to his conduct 
 during the war. For a while Canonchet 
 treated him with silent contempt. But when 
 the other had ceased, he replied, "You much 
 child — no understand matters of war. Let 
 your brother or chief come, him I will answer." 
 
 Canonchet was then brought before De"n- 
 nison. The latter offered the chief his life on 
 condition that he would induce his nation to 
 submit. But he rejected the offer with con- 
 tempt. He was commanded to comply. He 
 answered that killing him would not end the 
 war. Some of the soldiers reminded him that 
 he had threatened to burn the English in 
 their houses; and that in spite of a late 
 treaty, he had boasted that he would not give 
 up a Wampanoag, or the paring of the nail 
 of a Wampanoag. He replied that others were 
 as forward for the war as himself, and that 
 he wished to hear no more about it. 
 
 Dennison, filled with joy at his good fortune, 
 soon after returned to Stonington. Canonchet 
 
CANONCHET. 123 
 
 was not kept long in suspense, in regard to 
 his fate. The officers decided that he should 
 be shot. The sentence was announced to him, 
 and his reply was, " I like it well. I shall 
 die before my heart is soft, or I shall say any 
 thing unworthy of myself." When charged 
 with cruelty and treachery, he reminded his 
 foes that they had killed his father, and burned 
 his people at Narragansett. Through all his 
 captivity, Canonchet evinced a pride of soul 
 that danger could not fright nor suffering bend. 
 The "last of the Narragansetts," as Ca- 
 nonchet has been termed, was led out to die, 
 "and that all might share in the glory of de- 
 stroying so great a prince, and come under 
 the obligation of fidelity, each to the other, the 
 Pequots shot him, the Mohegans cut off his 
 head, and quartered his body, and the iN'an- 
 ticks made the fire and burned his quarters ; 
 and as a token of fidelity to the English, pre- 
 sented his head to the council at Hartford." 
 The modern reader views the detail of this 
 execution with disgust. But the colonists 
 then thouglit them wise and just. 
 
124 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 The death of Canonchet was a severe losa 
 to the Indians. Endowed with a high and 
 generous spirit, he had obtained a great and 
 rare influence among his own and other 
 tribes, and could at any time summon to the 
 aid of Philip, many faithful and efficient men. 
 He bound men to his interest by appealing 
 to their love of what is great and heroic, ra- 
 ther than their fears, and of all Philip's cap- 
 tains, he was the most skilful leader, and the 
 bravest warrior. ^N'otwith standing his treaty 
 with the English, he refused to give up the 
 fugitive Wampanoags to them ; but this re- 
 fusal was owing as much to humanity of feel- 
 ing as to a violation of his word. The records 
 of his conduct while free and among his 
 tribe, and while a captive with the whites, lead 
 us to lament the fate of so able, so noble, and 
 generous a man. 
 
CHUECH AND THE JSTAERAGANSETT. 
 
 FTER the great destruction 
 of the Narragansett Indians, 
 in King Philip's War, by the 
 Connecticut forces, the rem- 
 nant of the tribe were pursued 
 in all directions. Winslow, 
 with the main body of the troops, advanced 
 
 (127] 
 
128 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 rapidly towards the Mpmuck country. Dur- 
 ing the pursuit, the celebrated Captain Ben- 
 jamin Church met with a singular and almost 
 fatal adventure. 
 
 Church had been removed with the other 
 wounded to the Narragansett's fort. But par- 
 tially recovered, and being very restless, he 
 had again joined the army, and was persuaded 
 by Winslow to aid him in the pursuit of the 
 Narragansetts. On the route they reached 
 an Indian town, situated on a small island, 
 which was surrounded by a swamp. The 
 water in the swamp was frozen, which pre- 
 vented the soldiers from charging the wigwam. 
 A spirited fire of musketry commenced, under 
 cover of which the troops began to cross the 
 ice. The Indians defended themselves until 
 the assailants reached the island, when they 
 broke and fled. A Mohegan, friendly to the 
 English joined in the pursuit, and capturing 
 one of the enemy, who had been wounded in 
 the leg, brought him to Winslow. 
 
 Winslow examined him, but could not draw 
 from him the wished for knowledge concern- 
 
CHURCH AND THE NARRAGANSETT. l29 
 
 ing the designs of his countrymen. The cap- 
 tive was threatened ; he said he had revealed 
 all he knew. Many standing, around de- 
 manded that he should be tortured ; but by 
 the advice of Church, the demand was refused. 
 The army commenced its march. But as the 
 Narragansett's wound prevented him from 
 keeping pace with the troops, it was resolved 
 to "knock him in the head." The Mohegan 
 who captured him was appointed his exe- 
 cutioner. Church, taking no delight in such 
 things, withdrew. 
 
 The Mohegan, elated with the honor con- 
 ferred upon him, advanced towards his victim, 
 flourishing his tomahawk, and evincing, by 
 distortions of limb and feature, the extremity 
 of his satisfaction. Suddenly, he aimed a tre- 
 mendous blow at the prisoner's head, but the 
 latter skilfully dodged it, and the Hatchet 
 flying from the Mohegan' s hand, " had like 
 to have done execution, where it was not de- 
 signed." Seizing the favorable moment, the 
 Narragansett broke from those who held him, 
 and ran for his life. Taking the same direc- 
 
130 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 tion that Church had done, he unexpectedly 
 ran directly upon him. Church grappled with 
 him ; a short but furious scuffle ensued, but 
 the Narragansett, being destitute of clothing, 
 slipped from his adversary's grasp, and again 
 ran. Church followed, the Indian stumbled 
 and fell, and the bold volunteer again seized 
 him. They fought and wrestled until the 
 Indian slipped through Church's hands, and 
 set out upon his third race. Church was 
 close behind him, " grasping occasionally at 
 his hair," which was all the hold could be 
 taken of him. 
 
 They soon reached a wide surface of ice, 
 which being in some places hollow, caused a 
 rumbling noise, which induced Church to 
 hope that some of his friends might hear it 
 and, come to his relief. Unfortunately for the 
 Indiail, it began to grow dark, and while 
 running at full speed, he came abreast of a 
 fallen tree of great thickness. Why he did 
 not overleap it is not known; but having 
 probably became intimidated, he suddenly 
 stopped and cried aloud for aid. Church was 
 
CHURCH AND THE NARRAGANSETT. 131 
 
 soon upon him. The Indian seized him by 
 the hair, and tried to break his neck. Church 
 also laid hold of his adversary's hair with 
 both hands, repaying twist for twist. While 
 in this attitude, hanging by each other's hair, 
 the volunteer contrived to butt the Indian 
 vigorously with his head in the face. 
 
 While this sharp scuffle was in progress, 
 the ice was heard. crackling at a distance, and 
 soon after some person ran towards them. 
 The combatants were kept in suspense, as 
 the darkness prevented the new comer from 
 being seen. The stranger reached them, and 
 without speaking a word began to feel first 
 Church and then the Indian. Amid the same 
 ominous silence, he raised his hatchet, and 
 sunk it in the head of the savage. It was 
 the Mohegan who had acted as executioner. 
 Overjoyed at having gratified his cruelty, he 
 hugged Church again and again, thanked 
 him for having caught his prisoner, and con- 
 ducted him in triumph to the camp. Through- 
 out this struggle for life. Church acted with 
 his usual dauntless spirit, and the capture 
 
132 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 of the iN'arragansett was owing entirely to 
 his persevering courage. The Indian was 
 unjustly put to death, he being fully entitled 
 to be considered as a prisoner of war. But 
 the colonists thought by appointing a Mohe- 
 gan to be his executioner, to heighten the 
 friendly feeling existing between that tribe 
 and the English. 
 
THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 
 
 HEN tlie famous King 
 Philip had lost 
 the greater 
 part of his war- 
 riors in the 
 struggle for 
 life and death 
 between them and the English, and he him- 
 
X36 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 self was hunted like a wild beast from place 
 to place, he formed the strange resolve of 
 visiting the ancient haunt of his ancestors at 
 Mount Hope, With a few of his best friends 
 he retired into that swamp which was des- 
 tined to be a prison for him. His retreat 
 was betrayed to Captain Church, by an In- 
 dian deserter, whose brother Philip had killed 
 in a fit of passion. 
 
 Church, accompanied by Major Sandford, 
 and Captain Golding, and about twenty men, 
 prepared to follow the great chief to the 
 swamp. He crossed Trip's ferry in the even- 
 ing, and about midnight, a consultation was 
 held as to the best mode of attack. Church 
 offered Golding a small force that he might 
 go in advance and discover the real situation 
 of Philip. Golding promptly accepted it. 
 Church then instructed him to be careful in 
 his approach to the enemy, and be sure not 
 to show himself until by daylight, that they 
 might know their own men from the enemy ; 
 to creep as close to the ground as possible, 
 until they came quite near to the swamp, in 
 
THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 137 
 
 order to fire upon the Indians as soon as they 
 arose ; and that when the enemy should start 
 for the swamp, he should pursue them with 
 speed. He was to shout as loud as he could, 
 for the ambuscade would receive orders to 
 fire upon any one who should approach in 
 silence. A colonist and an Indian were 
 placed behind each shelter. The arrange- 
 ments made it impossible for any one to pass 
 from the swamp without being seen. 
 
 The swamp in which Philip was concealed 
 is thus described by Carne. — " It was a fit 
 retreat for a despairing man, being one of 
 those waste and dismal places to which few 
 ever wandered, covered with rank and dense 
 vegetation. The moist soil was almost hidden 
 by the cypress and other trees, that spread 
 their gloomy shades over the treacherous 
 shallows and pools beneath. In the few drier 
 parts, oaks and pines grew, and, between 
 them, a brushwood so thick that the savage 
 could hardly penetrate: on the long, rich 
 grass of these parts, wild cattte fed, uiiassailed 
 by the hand of man, save when they ventured 
 
 12* 
 
138 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 beyond the confines of the swamp. There 
 were wolves, deer, and Other animals; and 
 wilder men, it was said, were seen here ; it 
 was supposed that the children of some of 
 the Indians had either been lost or left there, 
 and had thus grown up like denizens of this 
 wild. Here the baffled chieftain gathered 
 his little band around him, like a lion baited 
 by the hunters, sullenly seeking his gloomy 
 thickets only to spring forth more fatally. 
 His love was turned to agony ; his wife was 
 in the land of his enemies ; and would they 
 spare her beauty? His only son, the heir 
 of a long line, must bow his head to their 
 yoke ; his chief warriors had all fallen, and 
 he could not trust the few who were still with 
 him." 
 
 Early on the mo^'ning of the 12th of Au- 
 gust, Church approached Major Sandford, and 
 taking him by the hand, said that he had 
 placed his men so that it was scarcely pos- 
 sible for Philip to escape. At this moment, 
 a single shot wds heard in the distance, and 
 a ball whistled through the air over their 
 
THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 139 
 
 heads. Churcli imagined that it had been 
 fired by accident ; but before he could speak, 
 an entire volley was discharged. 
 
 The battle had been hastened by the indis- 
 cretion of Golding. An Indian, having re- 
 tired at some distance from his companions, 
 stood for a while looking around him, and as 
 Golding supposed, directly at him. The cap- 
 tain immediately fired ; and his men poured 
 a volley into the Indian camp, which, as the 
 savages were asleep, passed clear over them. 
 Philip's men, thus unexpectedly aroused, ran 
 into the swamp, and the chief, throwing his 
 belt and powder horn over his head, seized 
 his gun and fled. Unaw^are of the ambush, 
 he ran directly towards one of Church's men. 
 When he was quite near, the colonist levelled 
 his gun, but missed fire. He bade the Indian 
 fire, which he did with effect, one of the balls 
 passing through the sachem's heart, and an- 
 other through his lungs. He bounded into 
 the air and fell upon his face in the mud. 
 
 The battle continued, though the Indians 
 fought against great odds. They were rallied 
 
140 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and encouraged to stand, by an old chief, who 
 frequently repeated in a loud voice, the ex- 
 clamation, "lootash," a sort of war-cry in 
 time of danger. Church, surprised by the 
 boldness of this chief, and the loudness of his 
 voice, asked his Indian servant, Peter, who 
 it was. He answered that it was Philip's 
 great captain, Annawon, "calling on his sol- 
 diers to stand to it, and fight stoutly." But 
 the efforts of the chief failed ; the greater part 
 of the men, discovering that a part of the 
 swamp was not surrounded, made their escape. 
 
 Alderman, the Indian who had shot Philip, 
 immediately informed Church of his exploit ; 
 but the captain told him to keep silence until 
 they had driven all the Indians from the 
 swamp. The skirmishing continued until 
 sun rise, when Annawon and the few who re- 
 mained with him, escaped. In this encounter 
 five Indians were killed, among whom was a 
 son of the great Philip. 
 
 Church, glad of having accomplished the 
 main object of the expedition, thought it 
 useless to pursue the fugitives, and hence col- 
 
THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 141 
 
 lected his men in the place where the Indians 
 had passed the night. Here he informed 
 them of Philip's death, which was greeted 
 with three loud cheers ; after which the sa- 
 chem's body was dragged from the mud to 
 the upland. In the moment of victory, Church 
 forgot the magnanimity which had hitherto 
 distinguished him, and joined in the jests, 
 with which his men insulted the corpse of 
 the man, at whose name they had formerly 
 trembled. The captain ordered him to be 
 beheaded and quartered, which was accom- 
 plished by an old Indian executioner, the 
 pieces being hung on trees. One of the hands 
 which had been scarred by the splitting of a 
 pistol, was given to Alderman "to show to 
 such gentlemen as would bestow gratuitous 
 alms upon him, and accordingly, he got many 
 a penny by it," The head was placed in a 
 conspicuous part of the town of Plymouth, 
 where it remained many years. 
 
 The war was considered as ended with the 
 death of the leading spirit on the part of the 
 Indians. It had been one of extermination 
 
142 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 upon both sides, but the red men had suffered 
 far more than the 'English. The character of 
 Philip has been frequently drawn by able 
 pens, and full justice has been rendered to 
 his memory. Activity, courage, skill in war 
 and diplomacy, were the remarkable features 
 of his well-known character. His ends were 
 lofty and startling, and he was wise in the 
 choice of means. To great qualities of mind, 
 he added the strongest feelings, and no part 
 of his life excites our sympathies more than 
 his lattar days, when, bereft of friends and 
 relations, he returned, broken-hearted, to the 
 haunts of his youth. His hatred of the En- 
 glish, was early and lasting — founded upon 
 just cause, and followed up with unrelenting 
 cruelty. He was a savage, untaught in the 
 arts and refinements of civilization, and in 
 estimating his character this should be con- 
 sidered. Then will it be clear, that Philip 
 was one of the greatest of Indians and the 
 noblest of the unlearned children of the forest. 
 
AN INDIAN CONJUROR. 
 
INDIAN MEDICINE-MEN. 
 
 THE EAIN MAKEES. 
 
 HE Mandans, have digni- 
 taries whom they call 
 "rain makers," and ''rain 
 stoppers," because they 
 believe in their powers to 
 bring rain in case of 
 
 •drought, or to stop the 
 rain when too strong and 
 violent. Catlin gives a 
 very interesting account 
 of an instance in which 
 the powers of these men were tested. 
 
 13 (145) 
 
14:6 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 The Mandans, says Catlin, raise a great 
 deal of corn ; but sometimes a most disas- 
 trous drought visits the land, destructive to 
 their promised harvest. Such was the case 
 when I arrived at the Mandan village, on the 
 steamboat Yellow Stone. Eain had not fallen 
 for many a day, and the dear little girls and 
 ugly old squaws, altogether, (all of whom had 
 fields of corn,) were groaning and crying to 
 their lords, and imploring them to intercede 
 for rain, that their little patches, which were 
 now turning pale and yellow, might not be 
 withered, and they be deprived of the custo- 
 mary annual festivity, and the joyful occasion 
 of the ''roasting ears," and the "green corn 
 dance." 
 
 The chiefs and doctors sympathized with 
 the distress of the women, and recommended 
 patience. Great deliberation, they said, was 
 necessary in these cases ; and though they 
 resolved on making the attempt to produce 
 rain for the benefit of the corn ; yet they very 
 wisely resolved that to begin too soon might 
 ensure their entire defeat in the endeavor: 
 
THE RAIN MAKERS. 147 
 
 and that tlie longer they put it off, the more 
 certain they would be of ultimate success. 
 So, after a few days of further delay, when 
 the importunities of the women had become 
 clamorous, and even mournful, and almost 
 insupportable, the medicine-men assembled 
 in the council-house, with all their mystery 
 ajjparatus about them — with an abundance 
 of wild sage, and other aromatic herbs, with 
 a fire prepared to burn them, that their 
 savory odors might be sent forth to the Great 
 Spirit. The lodge was closed to all the vil- 
 lagers, except some ten or fifteen young men, 
 who were willing to hazard the dreadful al- 
 ternative of making it rain, or suffer the ever- 
 lasting disgrace of having made a fruitless 
 essay. 
 
 They, only, were allowed as witnesses to 
 the hocus pocus and conjurations devised by the 
 doctors inside of the medicine lodge; and 
 they were called up by lot, each one in his 
 turn, to spend a day upon the top of the lodge, 
 to test the potency of his medicine ; or, in 
 other words, to see how far his voice might 
 
148 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 be heard and obeyed amongst the clouds of 
 the heavens ; whilst the doctors were burn- 
 ing incense in the wigwam below, and with 
 their songs and prayers to the Great Spirit 
 for success, were sending forth grateful fumes 
 and odors to Him " who lives in the sun and 
 commands the thunders of Heaven." Wah- 
 kee, (the shield,) was the first who ascended 
 the wigwam at sun rise ; and he stood all day, 
 and looked foolish, as he was counting over 
 and over his string of mystery-beads — the 
 whole village were assembled around him, 
 and praying for his success. JSTot a cloud 
 appeared — the day was calm and hot ; and 
 at the setting of the sun, he descended from 
 the lodge and went home — "his medicine 
 was not good," nor can he ever be a medicine- 
 man. 
 
 Om-pah, (the elk,) was the next; he as- 
 cended the lodge at sunrise the next morning. 
 His body was entirely naked, being covered 
 with yellow clay. On his left arm he carried 
 a beautiful shield, and a long lance in his 
 right; and on his head the skin of a raven, 
 
THE RAIN MAKERS. 149 
 
 the bird that soars amidst the clouds, and 
 above the lightning's glare — he flourished his 
 shield and brandished his lance, and raised his 
 voice, but in vain ; for at sun set the ground 
 was dry, and the sky was clear ; the squaws 
 were crying, and their corn was withering at 
 its roots. 
 
 War-rah-pa, (the beaver,) was the next; 
 he also spent his breath in vain upon the 
 empty air, and came down at night — and 
 Wak-a-dah-ha-hee, (the white buffalo's hair,) 
 took the stand the next morning. He was a 
 small, but beautifully proportioned young 
 man. He was dressed in a tunic, and leggings 
 of the skins of the mountain-sheep, splendidly 
 garnished with the quills of the porcupine, 
 and fringed with locks of hair taken by his 
 own hand from the heads of his enemies. On 
 his arm he carried his shield, made of the 
 buffalo's hide — its boss was the head of the 
 war-eagle — and its front was ornamented with 
 " red chains of lightning." In his left hand 
 he clinched his sinewy bow and one single 
 arrow. The villagers were all gathered about 
 
 13* 
 
150 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 him ; when he threw up a feather to decide 
 on the course of the wind, and he commenced 
 thus : "My friends I people of the pheasants! 
 you see me here a sacrifice — I shall this day 
 relieve you from great distress, and bring joy 
 amongst you; or I shall descend from this 
 lodge when the sun goes down, and live 
 amongst the dogs and old women all my days. 
 My friends ! you saw which way the feather 
 flew, and I hold my shield this day in the di- 
 rection where the wind comes — the lightning 
 on my shield will draw a great cloud, and 
 the arrow, which is selected from my quiver, 
 and which is feathered with the quill of the 
 white swan, will make a hole in it. My 
 friends ! this hole in the lodge at my feet, 
 shows me the medicine-men, who are seated 
 in the lodge below me and crying to the Great 
 Spirit ;'' and through it comes and passes into 
 my nose delightful odors, which you see rising 
 in the smoke to the Great Spirit above, who 
 rides in the clouds and commands the winds I 
 Three days they have sat here, my friends, 
 and nothing has been done to relieve your 
 
THE RAIN MAKERS. 151 
 
 distress. On the first day was Wah-kee, (the 
 shield,) he could do nothing ; he counted his 
 beads and came down — his medicine was not 
 good — his name was bad, and it kept off the 
 rain. The next was Om-pah, (the elk;) on 
 his head the raven was seen, who flies 
 above the storm, and he failed. War-rah-pa, 
 (the beaver,) was the next, my friends ; the 
 beaver lives under the water, and he never 
 wants it to rain. My friends ! I see you are 
 in great distress, and nothing has yet been 
 done ; this shield belonged to my father the 
 "White Buffalo ; and the lightning you see on 
 it is red ; it was taken from a black cloud, 
 and that cloud will come over us to-day. I 
 am the White Buffalo's Hair — and am the son 
 of my father." 
 
 It happened on this memorable day about 
 noon, that the steamboat Yellow Stone, on 
 her first trip up the Missouri river, approached 
 and landed at the Mandan village. I was 
 lucky enough to be a passenger on this boat, 
 and helped to fire a salute of twenty guns of 
 twelve pounds calibre, when we first came in 
 
152 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 sight of the village, some three or four miles 
 below. These guns introduced a new sound 
 into this strange country, which the Mandans 
 first supposed to be thunder ; and the young 
 man upon the lodge, who turned it to good 
 account, was gathering fame in rounds of ap- 
 plause, which were repeated and echoed 
 through the whole village ; all eyes were cen- 
 tred upon him — chiefs envied him — mother's 
 hearts were beating high whilst they were 
 decorating and leading up their fair daughters 
 to offer him in marriage, on his signal suc- 
 cess. The medicine-men had left the lodge, 
 and came out to bestow upon him the envied 
 title of ''medicine-man, or doctor,'' which he 
 had so deservedly won — wreaths were prepared 
 to decorate his brows, and eagles' plumes and 
 calumets were in readiness for him ; his friends 
 were all rejoiced — his enemies wore on their 
 faces a silent gloom and hatred ; and his old 
 sweethearts, who had formerly cast him off, 
 gazed intently upon him, as they glowed with 
 the burning fever of repentance. 
 
 During all this excitement, Wak-a-dah-ha- 
 
THE RAIN MAKERS. 153 
 
 hee kept his position, assuming the most 
 commanding and threatening attitudes ; 
 brandishing his shield in the direction of the 
 thunder, although there was not a. cloud to 
 be seen, until he, poor fellow, being elevated 
 above the rest of the village, espied, to his 
 inexpressible amazement, the steamboat 
 ploughing its way up the windings of the 
 river below ; puffing her steam from her pipes, 
 and sending forth the thunder from a twelve- 
 pounder on her deck ! 
 
 The White Buffalo's Hair stood motionless 
 and turned pale, he looked awhile, and turned 
 to the chief and to the multitude, and ad- 
 dressed them with a trembling lip — ''My 
 friends, we will get no rain! there are, you 
 see, no clouds ; but my medicine is great — I 
 have brought a thunder boat ! look and see 
 it ! the thunder you hear is out of her mouth, 
 and the lightning which you see is on the 
 waters!" 
 
 At this intelligence, the whole village flew 
 to the tops of their wigwams, or to the bank 
 of the river, from whence the steamer was in 
 
154 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 full view, and ploughing along, to tlieir utter 
 dismay and confusion. 
 
 In this promiscuous throng of chiefs, doc- 
 tors, women, children, and dogs, was mingled 
 Wak-a-dah-ha-hee, (the white buffalo's hair,) 
 having descended from his high place to 
 mingle with the frightened throng. 
 
 Dismayed at the approach of so strange and 
 unaccountable an object, the Mandans stood 
 their ground but a few moments ; when, by 
 an order of the chiefs, all hands were en- 
 sconced within the piquets of the village, and 
 all the warriors armed for desperate defence. 
 A few moments brought the boat in front of 
 the village, and all was still and quiet as 
 death ; not a Mandan was to be seen upon 
 the banks. The steamer was moored, and 
 three or four of the chiefs soon after, walked 
 boldly down the bank and on to her deck, 
 with a spear in one hand and the calumet or 
 pipe of peace in the other. The moment they 
 stepped on board, they met (to their great 
 surprise and joy) their old friend, Major San- 
 ford, their agent, which circumstance put an 
 
THE RAIN MAKERS. 155 
 
 end to all their fears. The villagers were soon 
 apprized of the fact, and the whole race of the 
 beautiful and friendly Mandans was paraded 
 on the bank of the river, in front of the boat. 
 The " rain maker," whose apprehensions of 
 a public calamity brought upon the nation 
 by his extraordinary medicine, had, for the 
 better security of his person from apprehended 
 vengeance, secreted himself in some secure 
 place, and was the last to come forward, and 
 the last to be convinced that the visitation 
 was a friendly one from the white people ; 
 and that his medicine had not in the least 
 been instrumental in bringing it about. This 
 information, though received by him with 
 much caution and suspicion, at length gave 
 him much relief, and quieted his mind as to 
 his danger. Yet still in his breast there was 
 a rankling thorn, though he escaped the 
 dreaded vengeance which he had a few mo- 
 ments before apprehended as at hand ; as he 
 had the mortification and disgrace of having 
 failed in his mysterious operations. He set 
 up, however, (during the day, in his conver- 
 
156 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 sation about the strange arrival,) his medi- 
 cines, as the cause of its approach ; -asserting 
 every where and to every body, that he knew 
 of its coming, and that he had by his magic 
 brought the occurrence about. This plea, 
 however, did not get him much audience ; and 
 in fact, every thing else was pretty much 
 swallowed up in the guttural talk, and bustle, 
 and gossip about the mysteries of the thunder 
 boat ; and so passed the day, until just at 
 the approach of evening, when the "White 
 Buffalo's Hair," more watchful of such matters 
 on this occasion than most others, observed 
 that a black cloud had been jutting up in the 
 horizon, and was almost directly over the 
 village ! In an instant his shield was on his 
 arm, and his bow in his hand, and he again 
 upon the lodge ! stiffened and braced to the 
 last sinew, he stood, with his face and shield 
 presented to the cloud, and his bow drawn. 
 He drew the eyes of the whole village upon 
 him as he vaunted forth his super-human 
 powers, and at the same time commanding 
 the cloud to come nearer, that he might draw 
 
THE RAIN MAKERS. 157 
 
 down its contents upon the heads and the 
 cornfields of the Mandans ! In this wise he 
 stood, waving his shield over his head, stamp- 
 ing his foot and frowning as he drew his bow 
 and threatening the heavens, commanding it 
 to rain — his bow was bent, and the arrow 
 drawn to its head, was sent to the cloud, and 
 he exclaimed, " My friends, it is done ! Wak- 
 a-dah-ha-hee's arrow has entered the black 
 cloud, and the Mandans will be wet with the 
 waters of the skies!" His predictions were 
 true ; in a few moments the clouds were over 
 the village, and the rain fell in torrents. He 
 stood for some time wielding his weapons 
 and presenting his shield to the sky, while he 
 boasted of his power and the efficacy of his 
 medicine, to those who had been about him, 
 and were now driven to the shelter of their 
 wigwams. He, at length, finished his vaunts 
 and threats, and descended from his high 
 place, (in which he had been perfectly 
 drenched,) prepared to receive the honors and 
 the homage that were due to one so potent in 
 his mysteries ; and to receive the style and 
 
 14 
 
158 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 title of " medicine-man." This is one of a 
 hundred different modes in which a man in 
 Indian countries acquires the honorable 
 appellation. 
 
 This man had "made it rain," and of 
 course was to receive more than usual honors, 
 as he had done much more than ordinary men 
 could do. -All eyes were upon him, and all 
 were ready to admit that he was skilled in 
 the magic art; and must be so nearly allied 
 to the Great or Evil Spirit, that he must needs 
 be a man of great and powerful influence in 
 the nation, and was entitled to the style of 
 doctor or medicine-man. 
 
 During the memorable night of which I 
 have just spoken, the steamboat remained by 
 the side of the Mandan village, and the rain 
 that had commenced falling continued to poui 
 down its torrents until midnight; black 
 thunder roared, and vivid lightning flashed 
 until the heavens appeared to be lit up with 
 one unceasing and appalling glare. In this 
 frightful moment of consternation, a flash 
 of lightning buried itself in one of the earth- 
 
THE RAIN MAKERS. 159 
 
 covered lodges of the Mandans, and killed a 
 beautiful girl. Here was food and fuel fresh 
 for their superstitions ; and a night of vast 
 tumult and excitement ensued. The dreams 
 of the new-made medicine-man were troubled, 
 and he had dreadful apprehensions for the 
 coming day ; for he knew that he was sub- 
 ject to the irrevocable decree of the chiefs 
 and doctors, who canvass every strange and 
 unaccountable event, with close and super- 
 stitious scrutiny, and let their vengeance fall 
 without mercy upon its immediate cause. 
 
 He looked upon his well-earned fame as 
 likely to be withheld from him ; and also 
 considered that his life might perhaps be de- 
 manded as the forfeit for this girl's death, 
 which would certainly be charged upon him. 
 He looked upon himself as culpable, and sup- 
 posed the accident to have been occasioned 
 by his criminal desertion of his post, when 
 the steamboat was approaching the village. 
 Morning came, and he soon learned from 
 some of his friends, the opinions of the wise 
 rafin ; and also the nature of the tribunal that 
 
160 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 was preparing for Mm ; lie sent to the prairie 
 for his three horses, which were brought in, 
 and he mounted the medicine lodge, around 
 which, in a few moments, the villagers were 
 all assembled* " My friends," said he, "I 
 see you all around me, and I am before you ; 
 my medicine, you see, is great — it is too great ; 
 I am young, and was too fast — I knew not 
 when to stop. The wigwam, of Mah-siah is 
 laid low, and many are the eyes that weep 
 for Ko-ka, (the antelope;) Wak-a-dah-ha-hee 
 gives three horses to gladden the hearts of 
 those who weep for Ko-ka ; his medicine was 
 great — his arrow pierced the black cloud, and 
 the lightning came, and the thunder-boat 
 also ! who says that the medicine of Wak-a- 
 dah-ha-hee is not strong ?" 
 
 At the end of this sentence an unanimous 
 shout of approbation ran through the crowd, 
 and the " Hair of the White Buffalo" descended 
 amongst them, where he was greeted by shakcc 
 of the hand ; and amongst whom he now lives 
 and thrives under the familiar and honorable 
 appellation of the " Big Double Medicine." 
 
OCONOSTOTA. 
 
THE BKIDE'S KESCUE. 
 
 ANY years ago when the 
 great valley of the Missis- 
 sippi was rarely trodden by 
 the white men, there lived 
 upon the southern frontier of 
 Kentucky, then nearly a wil- 
 derness, an old hunter, named Johnson. He 
 was one of the pioneers of the region in which 
 (163) 
 
164 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 he had built his log cabin, and had long pro- 
 cured a comfortable subsistence for a wife 
 and child by the aid of a good rifle and his 
 snares. Mrs. Johnson had become accus- 
 tomed to the privations of her situation ; and 
 her daughter, Sarah, having arrived at the age 
 of young womanhood, contributed to relieve 
 the monotony of a life in the wilderness. 
 The cares of the family were slight. Their 
 simple food and clothing were easily procured, 
 and their wishes for the conveniences of 
 civilized life had ceased, when it was found 
 that they could not be gratified. In short, 
 we may say, the Johnson family lived happily 
 in their wilderness home. 
 
 Sarah Johnson was about eighteen years 
 of age, when she was first brought to our no- 
 tice. She was not handsome, but she was 
 tolerably *' good looking," and possessed a 
 stock of good sense, which is somewhat rarer 
 than beauty. Old Johnson said she was a 
 "likely girl," and her mother thought she 
 deserved a good husband. This desert seemed 
 to be about to receive its reward. Two or 
 
THE bride's rescue. 165 
 
 three miles from Johnson's cabin, lived an- 
 other hunter, named John Blake. Like John- 
 son, Blak.e had long followed hunting for a 
 subsistence, had married, and had one child. 
 The wife was dead ; but the child had grown 
 to manhood, and Samuel Blake was now re- 
 garded as quite equal to his father in hunting. 
 
 As Johnson and Blake had been very inti- 
 mate friends for a long time, their children 
 were frequently thrown into each other's com- 
 pany ; and a strong attachment had sprung 
 up between them. The fathers looked favor- 
 ably upon this perpetuation of their intimacy, 
 and it soon became a settled matter that 
 Samuel Blake and Sarah Johnson should be 
 man and wife. 
 
 Both the old hunters had always kept up 
 a friendly intercourse with the neighboring 
 Indians, and many of the latter had visited 
 the cabins and partaken of their hospitalities. 
 Johnson had obtained a great reputation 
 among the red men for his skill in hunting. 
 His company was sought by the young men 
 of the tribe, and always with profit. Samuel 
 
166 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 Blake was also regarded as a brave and skil- 
 ful hunter, and admired by the Indians. 
 Among those who frequently visited Johnson's 
 cabin, was young Oconostota, son of the chief 
 of the neighboring tribe. He was already 
 distinguished as a warrior and hunter, and 
 his personal appearance was so admirable 
 that many an Indian maiden's heart beat 
 high with the hope that she might be the 
 fortunate one who should share his wigwam. 
 But Oconostota' s eyes and thoughts were 
 fixed elsewhere. He had seen and conversed 
 with Sarah Johnson, and he burned with the 
 desire to secure her for his wife. Sarah could 
 not help seeing the admiring looks he gave 
 her during his frequent visits ; but she did 
 not suspect the real state of his feelings; 
 probably, because her thoughts found occu- 
 pation enough in thinking of Samuel Blake. 
 A.t length, however, the young brave ventured 
 10 disclose his wishes to old Johnson, during 
 a hunting excursion, in which they were en- 
 gaged together. The old hunter was sur- 
 prised; but considering that Oconostota 
 
THE BEIDE'S rescue. 167 
 
 might easily be irritated and dangerous con- 
 sequences ensue, he calmly and deliberately 
 made known to him that Sarah had long been 
 engaged to Samuel Blake, and that that en- 
 gagement could not be broken. 
 
 Love cannot listen to reason. Oconostota 
 urged his suit still further, offering, with true 
 Indian simplicity, two splendid horses for the 
 hunter's daughter. He increased the num- 
 ber to ten, but the hunter remained firm, and 
 the young brave was forced to give up en- 
 treaty. When Johnson reached his cabin, he 
 found young Blake and his father there, both 
 having been invited by Mrs. Johnson to re- 
 main and take supper with them. The veni- 
 son was broiling before the coals in the large 
 fire-place, the table was neatly spread, and 
 every thing had a cheerful appearance. Oco- 
 nostota had refused Johnson's invitation to 
 spend the evening with him, and returned to 
 his village. The hunter thought he would 
 have done better to have accepted the invi- 
 tation. 
 
 While old Johnson and old Blake talked 
 
168 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 over the doings of the day, and the adventures 
 of many previous ones, young Blake, Sarah, 
 and Mrs. Johnson, talked of matters less 
 stirring, but more important to the females — 
 cooking, house-keeping, &c. The pewter 
 dishes soon received their smoking, savory 
 weight, and all seated themselves around the 
 table. Johnson then introduced the subject 
 which had been troubling his thoughts for 
 some time previous. The whole party was 
 informed of the proposal of Oconostota, and 
 of his rejection by the father on behalf of his 
 daughter. The young couple were both sur- 
 prised, and Samuel Blake laughed outright. 
 The old men looked grave, and Mrs. Johnson 
 troubled. They knew the Indian character 
 well enough to know that the matter would 
 not end there. In fact, serious consequences 
 might be expected to result from the refusal. 
 Some discussion ensued, when old Blake 
 recommended that Samuel and Sarah should 
 be married as soon as possible, and then con- 
 ciliatory measures might secure the agree- 
 ment of Oconostota and his friends to what 
 
1 
 
 THE bride's rescue. 169 
 
 could not be changed. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson 
 agreed to this proposition, and the young 
 people almost "jumped" at it. Before that 
 meal was concluded, the day for the wedding 
 was tixed, and it was arranged that the par- 
 ties should proceed to a settlement about ten 
 miles from the cabin of Johnson, where the 
 ceremony would be performed. Then a new 
 cabin was to be erected between Blake's and 
 Johnson's, spacious enough for Samuel and 
 Sarah, and old Blake. 
 
 Meanwhile, Oconostota deeply felt the 
 sting of rejected love. He strove to conquer 
 his feelings, and thought of taking an Indian 
 wife. But his nature was too passionate, and 
 he resolved to gain the object of his love, 
 either by fair means or foul. He visited the 
 Jolmsons several times afterwards, and was 
 informed that the wedding day had been ap- 
 pointed; and nothing remained for him but 
 to acquiesce, or strive to get possession of 
 Sarah by force or stratagem. His plan wa^] 
 soon laid. 
 
 Ascertaining the particular day upon which^ 
 
 15 
 
170 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 the wedding was to take place, the young 
 chief resolved to get the aid of a few young 
 men of his tribe, and carry off the bride the 
 night before it. The day approached and the 
 happy couple were all joyful expectation. 
 They believed that the wishes of long years 
 were about to be gratified. Samuel Blake 
 spent the day before the happy one, at John- 
 son's cabin, arranging with Sarah things that 
 had been arranged very frequently before ; 
 and he did not leave it until the shades of 
 evening were thickening around. Old Blake 
 intended to remain all night with Johnson, 
 to be ready for the journey of the morrow. 
 Sarah accompanied Samuel to a considerable 
 distance from the cabin, and he reluctantly 
 bade her adieu. She then turned to pursue 
 her way home. 
 
 Oconostota, with his friends had been lurk- 
 ing around the neighborhood during the after- 
 noon. He had seen the lovers leave the cabin 
 together, and he followed them at a short 
 distance, like a beast of prey, watching his 
 opportunity. When he saw Samuel Blake 
 
THE bride's rescue. 171 
 
 leave Sarah, he gave a signal, resembling the 
 voice of a well-known forest-bird, and col- 
 lected his accomplices. He then stole silently 
 to the edge of the wood near which he knew 
 Sarah must pass, and waited for her. The 
 young girl came on trippingly, as if she had 
 no care in the world. Suddenly, she was 
 seized, and before she could shriek, hurried 
 into the wood. She saw the forms of the red 
 men, and guessed their object. She shrieked 
 for help,*as they hurried her swiftly through 
 the wood ; but there appeared no help near. 
 On they went, until they reached the end of the 
 wood, where the prairie opened before them. 
 Horses were waiting. The red men mounted, 
 Oconostota placing the almost fainting form 
 of Sarah upon the horse, before him. Away 
 they went like the wind. It was a moonlight 
 evening, and as Oconostota turned to see if 
 any one was pursuing, he caught sight of a 
 blaze, rising above the dark trees, and 
 knew at once that one of his men, more 
 devilish than the rest, had contrived to set 
 fire to Johnson's cabin. He thought he 
 
1 72 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 heard the sound of other horses' feet far be- 
 Jiind ; but could not distinguish any one in 
 the hasty glance he cast behind him. The 
 sounds increased, and seemed to grow nearer. 
 Then Oconostota turned and saw the forms 
 of three mounted men urging their horses to 
 the greatest speed. 
 
 At this critical moment, the young chief's 
 horse stumbled and fell, Oconostota, with 
 Sarah in his arms, leaping to the ground just 
 in time to save himself from being crushed. 
 This checked the progress of the whole party, 
 and ere Oconostota could resume his seat, he 
 saw the pursuers were close upon his party. 
 It was in vain to think of escape by jQiight. 
 The Indians were six in number, and the 
 pursuers were but three. The chances were 
 in Oconostota's favor. But the pursuers all 
 had rifles, while two of the Indians had only 
 bows and arrows. 
 
 On came the hunters, and a volley was ex- 
 changed. Two of the Indians fell from their 
 horses, and it was evident that a third was 
 seriously, if not fatally wounded. Samuel 
 
THE bride's rescue. 173 
 
 Blake received an arrow in his left arm, but 
 it did not disable him. Old Johnson and 
 Blake reloaded, and delivered their fire with 
 an uijerring aim. Then they rushed upon 
 them with their rifles, clubbed and laid about 
 them with tremendous effect. Oconostota, 
 leaving Sarah upon the horse which he had 
 ridden, and mounted that of one of his fallen 
 mends. Young Blake' soon distinguished 
 his form and fired his rifle as he rushed upon 
 him. The shot broke the arm of the young 
 chief, but he gallantly drew his knife and 
 closed with his antagonist. A desperate 
 struggle ensued. The young men fell to the 
 ground almost beneath the horses' feet, and 
 rolled over and over like wild cats in a death 
 struggle. At length Blake obtained the knife, 
 and plunged it into the breast of his foe. 
 Theii he arose to look around for his friends. 
 But one of the Indians had escaped by flight ; 
 the rest were all dead. Johnson was unhurt, 
 and standing beside his daughter's horse. 
 Old Blake was wounded in the shoulder, and 
 lea,mng against his horse. 
 
 15* 
 
174 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 No time was to be lost. The Indian who 
 had escaped would inform his people of the 
 death of Oconostota, and a war-party might 
 be expected to set out in pursuit of them. 
 Samuel Blake first ascertained that Sarah 
 was unhurt, then helped his father to mount 
 his horse, and then mounted himself. John- 
 son placed his daughter upon his horse, and 
 the party dashed off on their return. After 
 a hard ride, they reached the edge of the 
 wood, dismounted and hurried through it with 
 almost the speed that the Indians had used 
 in carrying off the bride. Their course was 
 directed towards Blake's cabin, where they 
 intended to join Mrs. Johnson, and at once 
 set off for the settlement. They passed near 
 Johnson's cabin, and saw that it was almost 
 reduced to ashes. They arrived at Blake's 
 cabin, and there found Mrs. Johnson, who 
 was filled with anxiety for the fate of her 
 child. Congratulations and tears of joy fol- 
 lowed the meeting. But there was little time 
 for indulging in these. 
 
 Things were soon arranged for starting for 
 
THE bkide's rescue. 175 
 
 the settlement, though most of the party were 
 suffering severely from fatigue. They started. 
 We need not detail the trials and dangers of 
 that journey. They jvere terrible, but borne 
 with patience and fortitude. The whole party 
 •reached the settlement just after daylight, 
 were kindly received by the inhabitants, and 
 their wants supplied. Old Blake's wound in 
 the shoulder was not dangerous, and with the 
 careful attention of his friends, he soon re- 
 covered. His son suffered much from the 
 wound in his arm, which was too long ne- 
 glected. Samuel and Sarah were married as 
 soon as they could find it convenient to seek 
 the minister of the village. 
 
 The Indians were for a short time much 
 exasperated at the death of their young 
 prince and his friends ; but his father was a 
 wise and noble man. He told his warriors 
 that Oconostota had merited death by his 
 treacherous conduct; and that they would 
 have acted in the same manner as the white 
 hunters did, had any of their children been 
 stolen from them. He sent a messenge"r to 
 
176 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 Johnson, professing the continuance of his 
 friendship, and inviting him and his friends 
 to return to their homes, where he would 
 ensure their protection. After some delay, 
 they complied with the wishes of the generous 
 chief, and returned to their cabins in the wil- 
 derness. Johnson's old cabin was re-built; 
 Blake removed to a clearing nearer Johnson's, 
 and occupied by Sarah and her husband. 
 
 It remains to be explained how the hunters 
 received timely notice of the abduction of 
 Sarah. "When Samuel Blake left her to pur- 
 sue his route homeward, he walked rather 
 slowly, busy thinking of his happy future. 
 Suddenly it occurred to him, that there was 
 one little matter he had forgotten to mention 
 to Sarah, and he returned swiftly with the 
 hope of overtaking her before she reached her 
 house. A shriek broke on his ear before he 
 had proceeded far, and with strange convic- 
 tion, he knew it came from Sarah. He hur- 
 ried swiftly onward, reached the cabin, and 
 inquired for Sarah'. She was not there. The 
 mother guessed the startling truth ; because 
 
THE bride's rescue. 177 
 
 Bhe thought she had seen the Indians lurking 
 near the cabin during the day. Old Johnson, 
 Blake, and Samuel grasped a rifle each ; Mrs. 
 Johnson was directed to take her two bold 
 and faithful dogs, and an extra gun, and pro- 
 ceed towards Blake's cabin, where she would 
 be safer than in her own ; and then the hun- 
 ters hurried out, secured the horses which 
 had been caught upon the prairie and kept 
 in a small stable near the cabin, and pro- 
 ceeded through the wood towards the Indian 
 village. They reached the prairie, caught 
 sight of the flying Indians, and after a hard 
 ride and fight, rescued the bride as before 
 described. 
 
 The cabin was not set on fire until some 
 time after the hunters had left it. Mrs. John- 
 son possessed a bold and masculine spirit, 
 and she ventured upon her dangerous journey 
 without fear. She met with no obstruction 
 and reached Blake's cabin a considerable 
 time before the return of the pursuing party. 
 Oconostota's death was regretted by the young 
 men of his tribe, but his father effectually 
 
178 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 screened the white men from their vengeance, 
 and lived in peace with them until his death. 
 The young couple lived happily together in 
 their forest home. Samuel Blake continued 
 to hunt for a livelihood, and his rewards were 
 sufficient to bring plenty and content to his 
 household. He often visited the village of 
 the tribe to which Oconostota belonged, and 
 by favors and presents soon won the esteem 
 and regard of the red men ; they being fully 
 convinced that the young chief was justly 
 punished for a wilful wrong. 
 
QQ 
 
 P4 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 H 
 O 
 P^ 
 H 
 O 
 
 o 
 
 <1 
 O 
 
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 Q 
 
 ;?; 
 o 
 
rONDEEGA'S GRATITUDE. 
 
 HE inhabitants of 
 the settlement of 
 . Cocheeco, in New 
 Hampshire, lived for a 
 few years in large block- 
 houses, well adapted for 
 the purpose of defence against 
 the Indians. But a few of 
 the bolder spirits, encouraged by the long 
 peace with the red men, moved their families 
 
 16 (181) 
 
182 STORIES OF THE INDIANS, 
 
 into log houses of their own construction. 
 The furthest of the huts from the garrison 
 was built by a Mr. Bray, an Englishman. On 
 one occasion, Mr. Bray and his wife left home, 
 leaving Eebecca, their only child, in charge 
 of her Aunt Mary. 
 
 Little Kebecca was, of course, the pet of 
 her aunt. When the work of the house had 
 been completed, the latter would teach the 
 little girl some mysteries of needle work, or 
 explain some passages in the Scriptures for 
 her benefit. One day, Aunt Mary had just 
 finished reading the verse, in the fifth chapter 
 of Matthew, which says, "Blessed are the 
 merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," when 
 an Indian burst into the room, and throwing 
 himself panting at her feet, exclaimed, in 
 broken English, "for mercy's sake, hide me, 
 the warriors are on my path.'' 
 
 Aunt Mary was not disposed to grant his 
 request. In common with all the early 
 settlers, she hated and feared the Indians. 
 But Kebecca earnestly plead for him, saying 
 that he would be killed by Major Waldron's 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 183 
 
 men from the garrison. A loud shout was 
 heard in the distance, and the Indian renewed 
 his entreaties for a. refuge. ''Blessed are the 
 merciful, for they shall obtain mercy," re- 
 peated Eebecca, and Aunt Mary then ex- 
 pressed her wish :to secrete the Indian from 
 his pursuers. The little girl then took the 
 red man by the hand, led him up into the 
 loft, made him get into a box containing 
 shelled corn, and then spread the corn over 
 him in such a manner, that he could not be 
 seen. She then descended, and resumed her 
 reading to Aunt Mary as if nothing had oc- 
 curred. A moment after, the door was burst 
 open, and the pursuers entered, exclaiming, 
 "Is the villainous redskin here?" 
 
 The little girl expressed her surprise, and 
 asked what redskin. 
 
 " The Indian who has escaped," answered 
 a youth; "we have lost his track; but Mr. 
 Gove says he saw the top of his head through 
 the wood, and we came here." 
 
 Eebecca strove to divert their attention by 
 saying she heard a noise, just then, of some- 
 
184 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 thing running around the house. Mr. Gove 
 persisted in saying that he believed the In- 
 dian to be in the house, and to satisfy him 
 one of the young men proposed that he should 
 go up stairs and search for him. Rebecca 
 accompanied him. Gove searched every nook 
 and corner of the loft, and even lifted up some 
 of the corn from the box where the Indian 
 was concealed ; but at length gave it up, de- 
 scended the stairs and joined his friends. 
 The pursuers then sought their victim else- 
 where. 
 
 That night, Eebecca brought the red man 
 from his hiding-place, and making him pro- 
 mise to spare the mothers and babes who 
 might fall into his power, let him go, with a 
 heart filled with gratitude. 
 
 In explanation of the Indian's situation, 
 we may say that the colonial government, 
 fearful of another outbreak among the In- 
 ' dians, and jealous of their numbers, had or- 
 dered Major Waldron, the commander of the 
 post, to put the strange red men, who came 
 there, to death, and by a stratagem, the 
 
YONDEEGA^S GRATITUDE. 186 
 
 Major had succeeded in killing all but this 
 one, who was preserved by the efforts -of little 
 Rebecca. 
 
 Time flew by, and Eebecca grew to be a 
 fine specimen of feminine maturity. Her 
 parents died, and she was left to the guar- 
 dianship of Major Waldron. She resided 
 with Aunt Mary, to whose care she had been 
 confided by a mother's dying breath; and 
 though the major had made many efibrts to 
 convince them that the garrison was a much 
 safer place, they still kept the old house. The 
 flower in the wilderness did not ''waste its 
 sweetness on the desert air." On the con- 
 trary, Rebecca's charms had already made 
 several captives, one of whom was the only 
 son of Major Waldron. 
 
 George Waldron had been educated in En- 
 gland, had moved in refined circles, travelled 
 three years, and returned to America, with 
 personal advantages which might have made 
 many a conquest in the field of love. He 
 saw Rebecca soon after his arrival, and was 
 immediately "smitten to the heart." But 
 
 16^^ 
 
186 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 the beauty could only give him a sister's love ; 
 for her -heart was in possession of another. 
 Morris Green had been her playmate in child- 
 hood, and in riper years, her confidant and 
 friend. They had not been formally plighted, 
 but they felt that they were united by stronger 
 bonds than words. A few days after Wal- 
 dron's arrival, Morris saved him from the 
 gripe of a bear, that was about to spring 
 upon him, by shooting the animal, and from 
 that time the two young men became warm, 
 self-denying friends. A few weeks after the 
 adventure with the bear, George Waldron 
 obtained for Morris Green, a midshipman's 
 warrant for his Majesty's frigate Cyclops, 
 then lying at Portsmouth, with orders to join 
 the squadron in the West Indies. 
 
 Morris quickly and joyfully informed Ee- 
 becca of his good fortune, and prepared to 
 start for Portsmouth. Hand-in-hand he and 
 Kebecca visited the grave-yard, where slept 
 the remains of her loved parents. There they 
 exchanged vows of constancy, and parted 
 sadly, though hopefully. Rebecca watched 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 187 
 
 he retreating form of her lover until it was 
 ost in the forest, and then, as she sank upon 
 her mother's grave, her tears flowed freely. 
 
 A voice near Kebecca, exclaimed, " A pretty 
 scene, upon my word!" She sprang to her 
 feet and faced the intruder. A mixture of 
 scorn and fear was upon her features, and she 
 at length turned to fly. But the bold intruder 
 seized her hand, and said, '' Now my pretty 
 bird, this meeting is too opportune to part so 
 soon. What with your own shyness, the 
 constant watch of that old hypocrite, Waldron, 
 who means to coax or force you to marry the 
 sapient George, and the close attentions of 
 that very sentimental youth who has just 
 left you, I have not the smallest chance of 
 urging my own suit." 
 
 " Oh, that can never, never be," answered 
 Rebecca, hardly conscious of what she said, 
 "for I already love another." 
 
 " Hear me, Rebecca," said the other, "your 
 beauty would become a higher sphere than 
 that stripling can give you to move in. At 
 the death of my father, I shall become Lord 
 
188 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 Marsden ; and at the death of my uncle, who 
 is much his senior, his title of Marquis of 
 Winchelsea will also revert to me. Think 
 how different would be your position as Mar- 
 chioness of Winchelsea, surrounded wdth 
 wealth and splendor, than as the wife of that 
 poor boy." 
 
 "I have promised to become the wife of 
 another," replied Kebecca, " and I would not 
 break the promise, if I could. I can love you 
 as a sister, but never as your wife !" 
 
 "It is enough, Eebecca," said the young 
 man, " you reject the love of a man whom 
 you could have moulded to your will. But I 
 am not to be slighted with impunity. Tou 
 are in my power, and shall rue the hour when 
 you dared to scorn me." As he uttered these 
 words, he sprang towards her, but stumbled 
 over the head-stone of her mother's grave and 
 fell headlong ; while Eebecca, pale with terror, 
 fled, and never paused until safe within the 
 cottage. 
 
 Edward Sinclair, the intruder upon Ee- 
 becca' s privacy, had been residing at Wal- 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 189 
 
 dron's dbont a year ; consigned to the Major's 
 care, it was vvhispered, by his father, as a 
 sort of penance for certain conduct which 
 was unbecoming the future Lord of Marsden 
 Hall. Well-informed, frank, and jovial, he 
 soon rendered himself a favorite with all those 
 in the settlement, who considered eccentricity 
 natural to a jovial companion, and did not 
 question the justice of his acts. Being fond 
 of hunting, Sinclair soon made friends of the 
 Indians, with whom he would hunt for weeks 
 at a time. They called him !N"eddo. That 
 Sinclair was in love with Eebccca, the reader 
 may gather from his language towards her. 
 But there was ever a something evil in his 
 nature which made her shun his presence. 
 
 A few days after Morris's departure, when 
 Kebecca thought him "far o'er the briny 
 deep," she was surprised to see him enter the 
 cottage, covered with dust, and throw himself 
 upon a chair. She and Aunt Mary expressed 
 their surprise, and asked why he was not in 
 the frigate. In reply, he handed Eebecca a 
 letter, which, he said, would explain the 
 
190 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 matter better than he could. The letter was 
 read as follows : 
 
 " If Morris Green really feels but half the 
 love he professes for Kebecca Bray, he will 
 not, by leaving the country, expose her to the 
 schemes of a crafty villain. The writer of 
 this has heard from Waldron's own lips that 
 he only assisted to get rid of him, and that 
 before the frigate will have joined the squad- 
 ron, she will either by persuasion or force, be 
 made the wife of George Waldron. If you 
 are wise, you will act upon this warning of 
 
 '' A Secret Friend." 
 
 "At first," said Morris, "I thought this all 
 a hoax ; but soon began to regard it as a 
 timely and truthful warning. I was down 
 at the shoals last week, and I knew that the 
 ship would pass near the islands, that a good 
 swimmer could easily reach the shore, where 
 there were two or three fishing schooners 
 anchored, which could bring me back. In 
 the middle of the night, I slipped through a 
 port, and swam ashore. As the ship sailed 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 191 
 
 like a race horse, they will get so far before 
 they miss me, they will not turn back for a 
 single man. "Morris said much more to silence 
 the fears of his anxious friends, who at length 
 set about preparing food for the half-famished 
 runaway, when the door opened, and Edward 
 Sinclair rushed in, crying, 
 
 "Eun, Morris, run! the bloodhounds are 
 at your heels." Morris sprang to his feet, 
 and rushed to the back door, which opened 
 on the forest ; but Sinclair pushed him back, 
 and in a few moments a party of men entered, 
 arrested Morris, as a deserter, and bore him 
 off, leaving Aunt Mary and Kebecca wringing 
 their hands, and crying bitterly. As soon as 
 they had left the house, Eebecca fell on the 
 floor in a fainting fit. When she recovered, 
 Sinclair was bending over her, with com- 
 passion and respect upon his features. 
 . Sinclair explained that he had tried to put 
 the pursuing party upon a false scent, and 
 save Morris ; that the deserter would be con- 
 demned by a court-martial ; yet in conside- 
 ration of the motive, they would certainly re- 
 
192 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 commend him to the mercy of his majesty ; 
 in which case he would appeal to his father, 
 whose influence he represented as all power- 
 ful at court, and a pardon could easily be pro- 
 cured. Kebecca grasped eagerly at such a 
 hope, and began to look upon the one who 
 held it forth as a brother. 
 
 The court-martial was held in Boston har- 
 bor ; the proof of desertion was positive, and 
 Morris was sentenced to death, without a hint 
 being given of any appeal to royal mercy. 
 Eebecca received the terrible news, as the 
 lily receives the blast of the tempest — it al- 
 most crushed her spirit. She did not — could 
 not weep until the morning of the day that 
 was to give her lover to the arms of death. 
 Her feelings then found vent in tears. She 
 left the cottage, and walked quickly towards 
 the house of Major Waldron, where she found 
 the old Aian writing. Throwing herself be- 
 fore him, she clasped his knees, and implored 
 him to save Morris Green. Waldron answered 
 that he could not. Morris had had a fair 
 trial, and it would be unjust in him, suppos- 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 193 
 
 ing he could, to change the verdict. Eebecca 
 continued — 
 
 "You can if you will. I know you have 
 wished me to marry George instead of Morris 
 Green ; and now I will promise, that if you 
 will procure a pardon for Morris, the day he 
 is free from prison I will marry George." 
 
 This chimed in with Waldron's schemes. 
 It had long been his aim to bring about a 
 union between his son George and Rebecca. 
 He snatched eagerly the opportunity, and 
 said he would try what he could do. A mes- 
 senger was sent in all haste to Portsmouth, 
 and the officers composing the court-martial 
 were eagerly persuaded to reprieve the pri- 
 soner until a petition could be sent to the 
 king. But months were to pass before an 
 answer would be received, during which Mor- 
 ris must remain in prison, leaving the field 
 clear to his rivals. 
 
 Sinclair now spent much of his time with 
 Rebecca, who regarded him with the most 
 friendly feelings, except when he urged his 
 suit, when a revulsion of feeling made her 
 
 17 
 
194 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 suspect that self-interest was at the root of 
 all his vaunted service for her and Morris. 
 As for George Waldron, his feelings were in 
 a state of confusion not to be described. He 
 loved Kebecca, deeply — devotedly; and to 
 secure her happiness and that of his friend 
 Morris, he felt that no sacrifice could be too. 
 great. Tet he hoped to make Kebecca his 
 wife, and could not resolve to break the en- 
 gagement his father had made. 
 
 At length a vessel arrived, bearing a full 
 pardon for the deserter; and Major Waldron 
 now required of Eebecca the performance of 
 her part of the contract. It was agreed that 
 the marriage should not take place until the 
 day after Morris's return. Morris had been 
 aware that a petition had been sent to the 
 king on his behalf, but he knew nothing of 
 the terms until the morning of his release, 
 and then he felt that he would much rather 
 have died than consented to live upon such 
 terms. However, he resolved to see Kebecca 
 once more, and then leave the country for ever. 
 
 He reached the cottage, where he expecte I 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 195 
 
 to meet Eebecca, but found it deserted, and 
 in the utmost confusion. Surprised, he 
 turned from the cottage to seek an explana- 
 tion, when a footstep caused him to raise his 
 head, and he stood face to face with George 
 Waldron. They each grasped the other's 
 hand ; for friendship was still strong in both. 
 
 "I have been very wrong and wicked," 
 said George Waldron, ''but I have suffered 
 for it. Yesterday, after a long struggle, I 
 resolved to release Eebecca from an engage- 
 ment, into which I knew she had been forced. 
 I did so. But now she is gone. Last night 
 Aunt Mary awoke and found herself alone ; 
 she gave the alarm, and people have hunted 
 for her ever since. I fear she has been car- 
 ried off by the Indians." 
 
 Morris was almost stunned by this unlocked 
 for calamity. At length he grasped the hand 
 of his friend and said, "We are friends — 
 brothers ; together we will go and rescue her 
 or share her fate." A slight noise at this in- 
 stant caused them to turn, and standing near 
 them, his arms folded on his breast, ids keen 
 
196 STORIES or THE INDIANS. 
 
 eye fixed upon them, was an Indian, whom 
 they recognised as one who was often about 
 the settlement. 
 
 "Has the pale-face's council fire gone 
 out, or are their braves turned squaws, that 
 the foe enters the wigwam and steals their 
 *'WildEose," and no warriors start on the 
 trail?'' 
 
 " Do you know any thing of Eebecca Bray," 
 demanded Morris. 
 
 " Tondeega's eyes were open. N'eddo's trail 
 and the Wild Eose's trail were one. 
 
 George started. He knew that Edward 
 Sinclair had two days previous, joined a hunt- 
 ing party ; but he supposed that he had goue 
 away to avoid being present at Eebecca' s 
 nuptials. ''The false-hearted villain!" said 
 he, *' I will follow him, and he shall yet feel 
 the weight of my arm." 
 
 *'!N'o, no," said Tondeega, with a flashing 
 eye and knotted brow. "N'o pale-face touch 
 him. Tondeega's tomahawk is sharp, and 
 his rifle never fails it aim. Tondeega will 
 kill hini like a dog." The features of the In- 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 197 
 
 dian then assumed an expression of sorrow. 
 " Yondeega had a daughter ; she was fair as 
 the spring flowers, and cheerful as the song 
 of birds. The Yengese came and spake with 
 his forked tongue, the maiden listened, and 
 her heart changed. She has left the wigwam 
 of her tribe to follow the stranger." 
 
 From this the young men gathered that 
 Sinclair had been as false to his red as to his 
 white friends, and having signified to the In- 
 dian that they would follow where he led, they 
 set off in pursuit of the lost flower. 
 
 Kebecca had risen early, and was taking a 
 short walk near the cottage, when she was 
 seized and borne off by some Indians. They 
 marched about eight hours, bearing Rebecca 
 on a rude litter, until they came to a large 
 sheet of water called Lake Winnipiseogee, 
 where they embarked in a canoe and rowed 
 to an island, on which stood two or three de- 
 serted Indian huts. In one of these, Eebecca 
 was left, with two Indians. In a moment, 
 the door opened, and Edward Sinclair, stripped 
 of his Indian disguise, stood before her. He 
 
 17* 
 
'm 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 confessed that he had stolen her. But it was 
 because he could not live without her, and he 
 wanted to take her to Europe with him. In 
 vain the young girl entreated, plead her at- 
 tachrflent to another, and her want of affec- 
 tion for Sinclair. 
 
 '* And do you think," said he fiercely, " that 
 I could bear to see you the wife of Morris 
 Green ? It was I who advised him to desert, 
 and who attempted to j)i'e^^6nt ^^^ froi^a 
 getting a pardon. But I will be revenged 
 yet. In the meantime, you are in my power, 
 and from this place you shall never go, except 
 as my wife — " 
 
 The sound of light footsteps interrupted 
 his words, and the next instant a young In- 
 dian girl, breathless with haste, rushed into 
 the hut, exclaiming, "Fly, fly! the pale-faces 
 are in pursuit." Sinclair sprang forward, 
 as if meditating flight ; but a moment's pause 
 seemed to alter his intention, and he said, 
 pointingtoEebecca, "Hide her, Tarro, and I 
 will meet them here." 
 
 The young Indian frowned, as she replied^ 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 199 
 
 "Tarro no hide her; pale-face no hurt her." 
 A deep -breathed curse escaped the young 
 man, and a fierce glance shot from his eye; 
 but the next moment it yielded to a^ mild, 
 tender expression, as he spoke a few words 
 to Tarro in her own tongue. 
 
 Tarro smilingly listened to his false words, 
 which were, in fact, no less than a promise, 
 that if she would hide Rebecca, he would 
 marry her, join the tribe and become a great 
 chief. She instantly advanced towards the 
 white maiden, and in spite of her struggles, 
 bandaged her mouth, and drew her into a 
 covert close to the hut. Sinclair saw all this, 
 and then taking his rifle, he advanced to meet 
 Morris and George, who had just emerged 
 from the forest into the clearing in front of 
 the hut. "What is the matter, George?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Edward,' demanded George, sternly, "do 
 you know any thing of Eebecca Bray?" 
 
 "How can I know any thing of her?" 
 mildly replied Sinclair; "you know I started 
 
200 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 off to hunt the day before you were to be 
 married ; but — " 
 
 The speaker paused ; the bullet of Tondee- 
 ga, who, having tarried behind to secure the 
 canoe, had just caught sight of his foe, had 
 started on its fatal errand ; but it did not 
 not reach its destined victim. Yarro, who 
 saw all that had passed, gave a slight scream, 
 and throwing her arms around the neck of 
 her beloved, shielded him from danger by re- 
 ceiving the ball herself. They laid her upon 
 the grass. Sinclair bent over her, grief and 
 remorse painted on his features, while the 
 rest of the party, including Eebecca, who had 
 contrived to unbandage herself, stood looking 
 on in mournful silence. Tarro opened her 
 eyes, a smile of joy stole over her features, as 
 she met the gaze of Sinclair, and she mur- 
 mured — "Tarro very happy, for the Great 
 Spirit has smiled on her;" and with that 
 happy smile still lingering on her features, 
 the poor girl passed to the " spirit land." 
 
 A moment of silence ensued, and the next, 
 Sinclair sprang to his feet, and darted into 
 
yondeega's gratitude. 201 
 
 the forest, pursued by Yondeega, who soon, 
 however, returned, completely baffled. This 
 was the last that was seen of Edward Sin- 
 clair in this country ; although a rumor came 
 two years afterwards^ that he had fallen in a 
 duel, in England, with an officer as reckless 
 as himself 
 
 Tarro was buried on the island, and then 
 the party returned to the settlement. The 
 remainder of the story is soon told. . Major 
 "Waldron yielded to the entreaties of Ee- 
 becca and Morris, assisted by the virtuous 
 energy of George, and consented to a union 
 of the lovers, who amid all trials, had re- 
 mained true to each other. At the wedding, 
 among the number of pale and red faces that 
 of Yondeega was recognised, and many thanks 
 were returned to him for his generous conduct. 
 
 " Pale-face no need feel grateful. Wild Eose 
 hide Yondeega ; Yondeega save Wild Eose ; 
 that all," said the Indian. In answer to 
 eager questioning, he then informed them, 
 that he had known of ^NTeddo's designs in re- 
 gard to Eebecca, and as soon as he saw her 
 
202 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 upon the island, he recognised her as the little 
 girl who had saved his life, and resolved to 
 save her. He hurried to inform her friends, 
 and the result is known. When he had fini- 
 shed his story, Eebecca exclaimed, 
 
 ''I then found mercy by the very person to 
 whom I had shown mercy." 
 
UMi 
 
 III i 
 
 "i 'J ill 
 
 
 
THE BURNING OF DEERFIELD. 
 
 HE destruction of Deerfield, 
 Massachusetts, during the 
 French and Indian war, which 
 began in 1B89, was one of the 
 most daring exploits performed 
 by the Indians during that exterminating 
 Btruggle. In 1703, the plan was laid b}^ the 
 
 18 (205) 
 
206 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 French and their savage allies, to cut off the 
 frontier inhabitants of New England, from 
 one extremity to the other ; but the design 
 was not fully executed. Though the eastern 
 settlements from Casco to Wells were de- 
 stroyed, yet the western ones remained un- 
 molested. This lulled them into a fatal se- 
 curity. Colonel Schuyler, the noted English 
 agent among the Indians, received intelli- 
 gence of a design in Canada to fall upon Deer- 
 field, he immediately informed the inhabi- 
 tants of that settlement, that they might pre- 
 pare for an attack. The design was not car- 
 ried into execution during the summer, and 
 the intelligence was considered as a false 
 alarm. But their destruction was reserved 
 for the winter of 1704, when they least ex- 
 pected it. 
 
 Deerfield was at that time the most nor- 
 therly settlement on the Connecticut river, a 
 few families at Northfield excepted. Against 
 this place, M. Yaudrieul, governor of Canada, 
 sent out a party of about three hundred 
 French and Indians. They were put under 
 
 i 
 
BURNING OF DEERFIELD. 207 
 
 the command of Hertel de Roueville,, assisted 
 by his four brothers, all of whom had been 
 well trained in partisan warfare by their 
 father, who had been a famous partisan in 
 former wars. They marched by way of Lake 
 Ghamplain, till they came to the stream, now 
 called Onion river. Advancing up that stream 
 till they passed over Connecticut river, and 
 travelled on the ice till they came near to 
 Deerfield. 
 
 The Rev. John Williams, the minister of 
 Deerfield, was apprehensive of danger, and 
 attempted to impress the minds of the people 
 with a sense of it ; but did not succeed. Upon 
 his application, the government of the pro- 
 vince sent twenty soldiers to aid in the de- 
 fence of the town. The fortifications were 
 some slight works thrown around two or three 
 garrison houses. These were nearly covered 
 in some places with drifts of snow. 
 
 On the 29th of February, Roueville and his 
 party approached the town. Hovering near 
 it, he sent out spies to gain intelligence. The 
 watch kept the streets of the town till about 
 
208 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 two hours before day, and then, unfortunately, 
 all of them went to sleep. Eoueville, perceiv- 
 ing all to be quiet, marched silently to the 
 attack. The snow was so high that they had 
 no difficulty in jumping over the walls of the 
 fortification ; and they immediately separated 
 Into small parties so as to appear before each 
 house at the same time. 
 
 The place was completely surprised ; and 
 the foe was entering the houses before the 
 inhabitants suspected their approach. The 
 resistance was trifling in most parts of the 
 town, but one block-house being able to' hold 
 out against the enemy. The whole settle- 
 ment was in their possession in a short time 
 after their arrival. Forty-seven of the inha- 
 bitants, some of w^iom fought bravely, were 
 slain, and all the rest captured. For awhile, 
 the village was given up to plunder, and then, 
 to complete the work, it was set on fire. The 
 victors, with their captives, hastily retreated 
 an hour after sunrise. A small party of the 
 English pursued them, and a skirmish en- 
 sued, in which a few were lost on both sides. 
 
BURNING OF DEERFIELD. 209 
 
 But the enemy could not be checked in their 
 retreat. 
 
 The distance from Deerfield to Chambly, 
 Canada, which was the nearest French settle- 
 ment, was about three hundred miles. The 
 number of prisoners was one hundred and 
 twelve. Among the number was the Eev. 
 John Williams. As the Indians entered his 
 room, he took down his pistol and presented 
 it to the breast of the foremost, but it missed 
 fire. They then took hold of him and bound 
 him, naked as he was, and thus kept him for 
 an hour. In the meantime two of the child- 
 ren and a negro woman were killed. Mrs. 
 Williams, who was hardly recovered from 
 childbed, was, with the rest, marched for Ca- 
 nada. The second day, in wading a- stream, 
 Mrs. Williams fainted and fell, but was 
 assisted along a little further when, at the 
 foot of a hill, she began to falter, her savage 
 master, with one blow of his tomahawk, put 
 an end to her miseries. The party was 
 twenty-five days on its march from Deerfield 
 to Chambly. As they depended upon hunt- 
 
 18* 
 
210 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 ing for their support, the prisoners often suf- 
 fered for want of food ; and the severity of the 
 season added to their trials. At length they 
 reached Chambly, where they were humanely 
 treated by the French and their governor, 
 Yaudrieul. At dififerent times, most of the 
 prisoners were redeemed and returned home. 
 Mr. Williams and fifty-seven others arrived at 
 Boston, from Quebec, in 1706. One of the 
 minister's daughters, Eunice, married an In- 
 dian, and became a convert to the Catholic 
 religion, which she never would consent to 
 forsake. She frequently visited her friends 
 in J^ew England ; but uniformly persisted in 
 wearing the blanket, and counting her beads. 
 Deerfield was rebuilt soon after its destruction, 
 and became a flourishing settlement. 
 
t 
 
THE FIRE WATER. 
 
THE FIEE-WATER. 
 
 F the red men have been be- 
 nefited by their intercourse 
 ^^ with the whites, they have 
 also red much degrada- 
 tion from the same cause. 
 Created with strong and active physical 
 powers, united with keen sensibility, they 
 
 (213) 
 
214 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 have an innate love of excitement, of which 
 the white man has taken advantage to work 
 their ruin. For a few bottles of any kind of 
 ardent -Spirits, which the Indians term "fire- 
 water," keen traders have purchased the pro- 
 duce of weeks of hunting and toil, and even 
 the land which contains within its bosom the 
 bones of the red man's ancestors. How many 
 of these noble children of the woods, whose 
 native powers of intellect rivalled those of 
 the most distinguished orators, statesmen, 
 and warriors, among the civilized nations, 
 have become degraded in mind and weakened 
 in body through the influence of the evil 
 spirit sent to them by the avaricious and wiser 
 white men ! See Logan, whose qualities of 
 inind, and whose misfortunes have excited so* 
 much admiration and sympathy, spending 
 the evening of his days in beastly intoxica- 
 tion! See the mighty Sagona, more widely 
 known as Red Jacket, who may be considered 
 as the Demosthenes of his race ; whose judg- 
 ment and foresight guided his nation in many 
 an intricate negotiation, and whose eloquence 
 
PONTIAC. 
 
THE FIRE-WATER. 217 
 
 has been compared to the Niagara, near 
 whose thundering tumult he was reared, 
 weakened in body and mind by the "fire- 
 water" given him by those who feared his in- 
 fluence ! This bane of the red man has ever 
 been extended to him by the hand of civiliza- 
 tion; and those tribes which inhabit the 
 country nearest the citizens of the western 
 states are fast melting away under its blight- 
 ing breath. Occasionally a chief has arisen 
 who despised the "fire-water,'' and who in- 
 dignantly denounced those who introduced it 
 among his people. Of one of these we are 
 about to speak. 
 
 Pontiac was a chief of the Ottawas, a tribe 
 which inhabited the, neighborhood of Lake 
 Erie, in the territory now included in the 
 state of Michigan. But at one time, he was the 
 chief of a confederacy, consisting of the Ot- 
 tawas, Miamis, Chippewas, Wyandotte s, . Pot- 
 towatomies, Missisagas, Shawanese, Ottaga- 
 mies, and "Winnebagoes — all powerful tribes. 
 Pontiac was gifted with a great an^ noble 
 spirit, which fitted him for command. He 
 
 19 
 
218 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 possessed a daring courage, tempered and 
 guided by wisdom and judgment. Fertile in 
 the invention of means to gain an end, he 
 was generally successful in his undertakings, 
 and became a formidable enemy to the whites, 
 whose encroachments roused his hatred. 
 
 In the Indian war, which broke out in 1763, 
 which is justly denominated " Pontiac's War," 
 the great chief appointed a commissary, and 
 began to make and issue bills of credit, all 
 of which he carefully redeemed. He made 
 his bills or notes of bark, on which was drawn 
 the figure of the commodity he wanted for it 
 The shape of an otter was drawn under that 
 of the article wanted, and an otter was the 
 insignia of his nation. He had also, with 
 great sagacity, urged upon his people the ne- 
 cessity of dispensing entirely with European 
 commodities, of having no intercourse with the 
 whites, and of depending entirely upon their 
 ancient modes of procuring sustenance. 
 
 Some English traders, with a considerable 
 quantitj^ of brandy in bottles, were detected 
 among the Indians, bartering "fire-water 
 
 .77 
 
THE FIRE-WATER. 219 
 
 for skins, and, by order of Pontiac, brought 
 into his presence. The noble chief stood in 
 state, gaudily dressed, and with a lofty mein, 
 in front of his highly decorated wigwam. A 
 guard of warriors were upon each side of him, 
 and subordinate chiefs waited the command 
 of the mighty forest king. The traders were 
 bold men, but they trembled when led into 
 his presence. They knew his power, the 
 ferocity of the men whom he ruled, and the 
 criminal nature of the business in which they 
 were engaged. 
 
 Pontiac spoke the English tongue suffi- 
 ciently well to make himself understood, and 
 he asked the traders if they were not aware 
 that he had forbidden his people to have any 
 intercourse with the whites, and warned the 
 latter to leave his territory. He then alluded 
 to the many services he had done the whites, 
 and the many acts of hospitality his people 
 had performed. " And how have you repaid 
 them?" continued he. "They gave you 
 shelter and venison, and you gave them poi- 
 son — fire-water, to burn away their strength, 
 
220 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and blind their eyes, so that you could cheat 
 them out of their skins and furs, and perhaps 
 their land." 
 
 The white traders attempted to excuse 
 themselves, by saying that they had only 
 given the Indians the liquor at their own 
 earnest entreaty. But Pontiac indignantly 
 commanded their silence. ''Tou knew what 
 the fire-water could do, what it has done, and 
 what it will do ; and yet you gave it to them.'^ 
 The chief raised himself to his full height. 
 He was a tall and noble-looking man. His 
 brow was high and broad, his eye black, keen, 
 and lively, and his nose aquiline and promi- 
 nent. The compressed mouth expressed the 
 firmness of his will. "For your fault," said 
 he, " you have deserved a severe punishment, 
 and were you at the mercy of many of my 
 people, death would quickly be your lot. I 
 spare your lives now, and my warriors shall 
 conduct you safely out of my country. But 
 if you again are found upon this land, expect 
 to burn at the stake. Go ! Pontiac has said." 
 
 The white men concealed the joy which they 
 
THE FIRE-WATER. 221 
 
 felt at their escape from death. They had 
 expected nothing less. Pontiac directed some 
 of his warriors to accompany the traders and 
 then retired to his wigwam. The traders, 
 once safely out of his country were very care- 
 ful not to revisit it while he lived. A war 
 broke out soon after this event, in which Pon- 
 tiac displayed the skill and courage of a great 
 commander. He was victorious on many oc- 
 casions, but was at last forced to conclude a 
 peace, by the superior numbers and discipline 
 of the whites. His exertions could not pre- 
 vent his people from using the ''fire-water'' 
 occasionally ; and consequently, he could not 
 prevent their becoming weakened, and so 
 blinded to their own interest as to sell the 
 land of their forefathers, and aid the encroach- 
 ments of the whites. The people whom he 
 governed, have either entirely melted away 
 before the influence of war and the use of 
 ardent spirits, or greatly reduced in numbers, 
 have removed far beyond the Mississippi. 
 
 19* 
 
FARMER'S BROTHER. 
 
 NECDOTES of men who have been 
 distinguished for their bravery, 
 whether friend or foe, civilized 
 or savage, seldom fail to excite 
 an interest. 
 
 During the second war with England, the 
 Seneca nation of Indians, who resided in the 
 neighborhood of Buffalo, were employed by 
 (222) 
 
farmer's brother. 223 
 
 the American government, and attached them- 
 selves to the army, then about to enter Ca- 
 nada, under the command of General Brown. 
 The principal chief of this tribe was "Far- 
 mer's Brother" — a stout, athletic warrior. 
 The frosts of eighty winters had passed over 
 his head ; and yet he retained his faculties in 
 an eminent degree. He possessed all the 
 ardour of his young associates, and was un- 
 commonly animated at the prospect which a 
 frest harvest of laurels presented to his mind. 
 This celebrated chief, in the war between 
 England and France, was engaged in the ser- 
 vice of the latter. He once pointed out, to 
 the writer of this account, the spot where, 
 w^ith a party of Indians, he lay in ambush — 
 patiently waiting the approach of a guard 
 that accompanied the English teams, employed 
 between the Falls of Niagara and the British 
 garrison ; the fort had lately surrendered to 
 Sir William Johnson. The place selected for 
 that purpose is now known by the name of 
 the " Devil's Hole," and is three and a half 
 miles below the famous cataract, upon the 
 
224 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 United States side. The mind can scarcely 
 conceive a more dismal looking den. A large 
 ravine, occasioned by the falling in of the per- 
 pendicular bank, made dark by the spreading 
 branches of the birch and cedar, which had 
 taken root below, and the low murmurings 
 of the rapids in the chasm, added to the so- 
 lemn thunder of the cataract itself, conspire 
 to render the scene truly awful. The English 
 party were not aware of the dreadful fate 
 which awaited them. Unconscious of danger, 
 the drivers were gaily whistling to their dull 
 ox-teams. On their arrival at this spot, Far- 
 mer's Brother and his band rushed from the 
 thicket that had concealed them, and com- 
 menced a horrid butchery. So unexpected 
 was the attack, and so completely were 
 the English deprived of all presence of 
 mind, but a feeble resistance was made. The 
 guard, the teamsters, the oxen, and the wagons, 
 were precipitated into the gulf. But two of 
 them escaped ; a Mr. Steadman, who lived at 
 Schlosser, above the falls, being mounted on 
 a fleet horse, made good his retreat ; and one 
 
farmer's brother. 225 
 
 of the soldiers, who was caught on the pro- 
 jecting root of a cedar, which sustained him 
 until — assured by the distant yells of the 
 savages — they had left the grounds. He then 
 clambered up, and proceeded to Fort Magara, 
 with the intelligence of this disaster. A small 
 rivulet, which pours itself down this precipice, 
 was literally colored with the blood of the 
 vanquished — and has ever since borne the 
 name of " The Bloody Eun." 
 
 In the war of the Kevolution, Farmer's 
 Brother evinced his hostility to the Americans 
 upon every occasion that occurred ; and with 
 the same zeal, he engaged in the late war 
 against his former friends — the British. 
 
 Another anecdote of this chief will show, 
 in more glaring colors, the real savage. A 
 short time before the United States army 
 crossed the Niagara, Farmer's Brother chanced 
 to observe an Indian, who had mingled with 
 the Senecas, and whom he instantly recog- 
 nised, as belonging to the Mohawks — a tribe 
 living in Canada, and then employed in the 
 enemy's service. He went up to him, and 
 
226 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 addressed him in the Indian tongue: — "I 
 know you well — you belong to the Mohawks — • 
 you are a spy — here is my rifle — my toma- 
 hawk — my scalping knife — I give you your 
 choice, which of them shall I use ? — ^but I am 
 in haste!" The young warrior, finding re- 
 sistance vain, chose to be despatched with 
 the rifle. He was ordered to lie upon the 
 grass; while, with the left foot upon the 
 breast of his victim, the chief lodged the con- 
 tents of the rifle into his head. 
 
 With so much of the savage, Farmer's 
 Brother possessed some estimable traits of 
 character. He was as firm a friend, where 
 he promised fidelity, as a bitter enemy to those 
 against whom he contended ; and would rather 
 lose the last drop of his blood, than betray 
 the cause he had espoused. He was fond of 
 recounting his exploits, and, savage-like, 
 dwelt with much satisfaction upon the num- 
 ber of scalps he had taken in his skirmishes 
 with the whites. 
 
 In company with several other chiefs, he 
 paid a visit to General Washington, who pre- 
 
farmer's brother. 
 
 227 
 
 sented him with a silver medal. This he 
 constantly wore, suspended from his neck ; 
 and, so precious was the gift in his eyes, that 
 he often declared, he would lose it only with 
 his life. Soon after the battles of Chippewa 
 and Bridgewater, this veteran paid the debt 
 of nature, at the Seneca village ; and, out of 
 respect to his bravery, he was interred with 
 military honors from the fifth regiment of 
 United States infantry. 
 
THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 
 
 I N the year of 1798, one of the 
 ^ missionaries to the Indians of 
 the north-^vest was on his way 
 from the Tuscarora settlement 
 to the Senecas. Journeying in 
 pious meditation through the 
 forest, a majestic Indian darted 
 from its recess, and arrested 
 his progress. His hair was somewhat changed 
 with age, and his face marked with the deep 
 (228) 
 
THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 229 
 
 furrows of time ; but his eye expressed all tlie 
 fiery vivacity of youthful passion, and his step 
 was that of a warrior in the vigor of manhood. 
 
 " White man of the ocean,* whither wan- 
 derestthou?" said the Indian. 
 
 "I am travelling," replied the meek dis- 
 ciple of peace, "towards the dwellings of thy 
 brethren, to teach them the knowledge of the 
 only true God, and to lead them to peace and 
 happiness." 
 
 " To peace and happiness !" exclaimed the 
 tall chief, while his eye flashed fire — " Behold 
 the blessings that follow the footsteps of the 
 white man ! "Wherever he comes, the nations 
 of the woodlands fade from the eye, like the 
 mists of the morning. Once over the wide 
 forest of the surrounding world our people 
 roamed in peace and freedom ; nor ever 
 dreamed of greater happiness than to hunt 
 
 . * The Indians at first imagined that the white men originally 
 sprang from the sea, and that they invaded their country because 
 they had none of their own. They sometimes called them in their 
 songs, '• The froth, or white foam of the ocean ;" and this name 
 is often applied contemptuously by the savages of the north-west. 
 
 20 
 
230 STOEiES or the Indians. 
 
 the beaver, the bear, and the wild deer. From 
 the furthest extremity of the great deep came 
 the white man, armed with thunder and 
 lightning, and weapons still more pernicious. 
 In war he hunted us like wild beasts ; in 
 peace, he destroyed us by deadly liquors, or 
 yet more deadly frauds. Yet a few moons 
 had passed away, and whole nations of in- 
 vincible warriors, and of hunters, that fear- 
 less swept the forest and the mountain, perish, 
 vainly opposing their triumphant invaders, 
 or quietly dwindled into slaves and drunk- 
 ards — and their names withered from the 
 earth. Eetire, dangerous man! Leave us 
 all we yet have left — our savage virtues, and 
 our gods ; and do not, in the vain attempt to 
 cultivate a rude and barren soil, pluck up the 
 few thrifty plants of native growth that have 
 survived the fostering cares of the people, and 
 weathered the stormy career of their perni- 
 cious friendship." The tall chief darted into 
 the wood, and the good missionary pursued 
 his way with pious resolution. 
 
 He preached the only true divinity, and 
 
THE PROPHET OP THE ALLEGHANY. 231 
 
 plactd before the eyes of the wondering 
 savages the beauty of holiness, &c. 
 
 t^ JjC r^C <f» 4 *t^ 
 
 The awe-struck Indians, roused by these 
 accumulated motives — many of them adopted 
 the precepts of the missionary, as far as they 
 could comprehend them ; and, in the course 
 of eighteen months, their devotion became 
 rational, regular, and apparently permanent. 
 
 All at once, however, the little church, in 
 which the good man was wont to pen his fold, 
 became deserted. No votary came, as usual, 
 to listen, with decent reverence, to the pure 
 doctrines which they were accustomed to 
 hear ; and only a few solitary idlers were seen, 
 of a Sunday morning, lounging about, and 
 casting a wistful yet fearful look at their little 
 peaceful and now silent mansion. 
 
 The missionary sought them out, inquired 
 into the cause of this mysterious desertion, 
 and told them of the bitterness of hereafter 
 to those who, having once known, abandoned 
 the religion of the only true God. The poor 
 Indians shook their heads, and informed him 
 
232 ' STORIES OF TliE INDIANS. 
 
 that the Great Spirit was angry at their 
 apostacy, and had sent a Prophet from the 
 summit of the Alleghany mountains, to warn 
 them against the admission of new doctrines ; 
 that there was to be a great meeting of the 
 the old men soon, and the Prophet would 
 there deliver to the people the message with 
 which he was entrusted. The zealous mis- 
 sionary determined to be present, and to 
 confront the impostor, who was known by the 
 appellation of the Prophet of the Alleghany. 
 He obtained permission to appear at the 
 couBcil, and to reply to the Prophet. The 
 12th of June, 1802, was fixed for determining 
 whether the belief of their forefathers or that 
 of the white men was the true religion. 
 
 The council-house not being large enough 
 to contain so great an assemblage of people, 
 they met in a valley west of Seneca Lake. 
 This valley was then embowered under lofty 
 trees. On almost every side it is surrounded 
 T^ith high rugged hills, and through it mean- 
 ders a small river. 
 
 It was a scene to call forth every energy 
 
THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 233 
 
 of the human heart. On a smooth level, near 
 the bank of a slow stream, under the shade 
 of a large elm, sat the chief men of the tribes. 
 Around the circle which they formed, was 
 gathered a crowd of wondering savages, with 
 eager looks, seeming to demand the true God 
 at the hands of their wise men. In the middle 
 of the circle sat the aged and travel-worn 
 missionary. A few gray hairs wandered over 
 his brow; his hands were crossed on his 
 bosom; and, as he cast his hope-beaming 
 eye to heaven, he seemed to be calling with 
 pious fervor upon the God of Truth, to vin- 
 dicate his own eternal word by the mouth of 
 his servant. 
 
 For more than half an hour there was si- 
 lence in the valley, save the whispering of 
 the trees in the south wind, and the indistinct 
 murmuring of the river. Then all at once, a 
 sound of astonishment ran through the crowd, 
 and the Prophet of tBe Alleghany was seen 
 descending one of the high hills. With furious 
 and frenzied step he entered the circle, and, 
 waving his hands in token of silence, the mis- 
 
 20* 
 
234 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 sionary saw, with wonder, the same tall chief, 
 who, four years before, had crossed him in the 
 Tuscarora forest. The same panther-skin 
 hung over his shoulder ; the same tomahawk 
 quivered in his hand ; and the same fiery and 
 malignant spirit burned in his eye. He ad- 
 dressed the awe-struck Indians, and the 
 valley rung with his iron-voice. 
 
 "Eed'Men of the Woods ! Hear what the 
 Great Spirit says of his children who have 
 forsaken him ! 
 
 '^ Through the wide regions that were once 
 the inheritance of my people— and for ages 
 they roved as free as the wild winds — resounds 
 the axe of the white man. The paths of your 
 forefathers are polluted by the their steps, 
 and your hunting-grounds are every day 
 wrested from you by their arts. Once on the 
 shores of the mighty ocean, your fathers were 
 wont to enjoy all the luxuriant delights of 
 the deep. Now, you'are exiles in swamps, 
 or on barren hills ; and these wretched pos- 
 sessions you enjoy by the precarious tenure 
 of the white man's will. The shrill cry of 
 
THE PEOPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 235 
 
 revelry or war, no more is heard on the ma- 
 jestic shores of the Hudson, or the sweet 
 banks of the silver Mohawk. There where 
 the Indian lived and died, free as the air he 
 breathed, and chased the panther and the 
 deer from morning until evening — even there 
 the Christian slave cultivates the soil in un- 
 distui'bed possession ; and as he whistles be- 
 hind the plough, turns up the sacred remains 
 of your buried ancestors. Have you not 
 heard at evening, and sometimes in the dead 
 of night, those mournful and melodious sounds 
 that steal through the deep valleys, or along 
 the mountain sides," like the song of echo ? 
 These are the wailings of those spirits whose 
 bones have been turned up by the sacrilegious 
 labors of the white men, and left to the mercy 
 of the rain and the tempest. They call upon 
 you to avenge them — they adjure you, by 
 motives that rouse the hearts of the brave, to 
 wake from your long sleep, and, by returning 
 to these invaders of the grave the long ar- 
 rears of vengeance, restore again the tired 
 
236 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and wandering spirits to their blissful paradise 
 far beyond the blue hills.* 
 
 "These are the blessings you owe to the 
 Christians. They have driven your fathers 
 from their ancient inheritance — they have de- 
 stroyed them with the sword and poisonous 
 liquors — they have dug up their bones, and 
 left them to blanch in the wind, and now 
 they aim at completing your wrongs, and in- 
 suring your destruction, by cheating you into 
 the belief of that divinity, whose very precepts 
 they plead in justification of all the miseries 
 they have heaped upon your race. 
 
 "Hear me, deluded people, for the last 
 time ! — If you persist in deserting my altars — 
 if still you are determined to listen with fatal 
 credulity to the strange pernicious doctrines 
 of these Christian usurpers — if you are unal- 
 terably devoted to your new gods and new 
 customs — if you will be the friend of the 
 white man, and the follower of his God — my 
 
 *The answering voices heard from the caves and hollo vvs, 
 whicti the Latins call echo, the Indians suppose to be the wailings 
 of sonls wandering through these places. 
 
THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 237 
 
 wrath shall follow. I will dart my arrows of 
 forked lightning among your towns, and send 
 the warring tempests of winter to devour you. 
 Te shall become bloated with intemperance ; 
 your numbers shall dwindle away, until but a 
 few wretched slaves survive ; and these shall 
 be driven deeper and deeper into the wild — 
 there to associate with the dastard beasts of 
 the forest, who once fled before the mighty 
 hunters of your tribe. The spirits of your 
 fathers .shall curse you, from the shores of 
 that happy island in the great lake, where 
 they enjoy an everlasting season of hunting, 
 and chase the wild deer with dogs swifter 
 than the wind. Lastly, I swear by the light- 
 ning, the thunder, and the tempest, that, in 
 the space of sixty moons, of all the Senecas, 
 not one of yourselves shall remain on the face 
 of the earth." 
 
 The Prophet ended his message — which 
 was delivered with the wild eloquence of real 
 or fancied inspiration, and, all at once, the 
 crowd seemed to be agitated with a savage 
 sentiment of indignation against the good 
 
238 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 missionary. One of the fiercest broke through 
 the circle of old men to despatch him, but 
 was restrained by their authority. 
 
 When this sudden feeling had somewhat 
 subsided, the mild apostle obtained permis- 
 sion to speak, in behalf of Him who had sent 
 him. J^ever have I seen a more touching, 
 pathetic figure, than this good man. He 
 seemed past sixty ; his figure tall and bend- 
 ing, his face mild, pale, and highly intellec- 
 tual, and over his forehead, which yet dis- 
 played its blue veins, were scattered at soli- 
 tary distances, a few gray hairs. Though his 
 voice was clear, and his action vigorous, yet 
 there was that in his looks, which seemed to 
 say his pilgrimage was soon to close for ever. 
 
 With pious fervor he discribed to his audi- 
 ence the glory, power, and beneficence of the 
 Creator of the whole universe. He told them 
 of the pure delights of the Christian heaven, 
 and of the never-ending tortures of those who 
 rejected the precepts of the Gospel. 
 
 And, when he had concluded this part of 
 the subject, he proceeded to place before his 
 
THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 239 
 
 now attentive auditors, the advantages of 
 civilization, learning, science, and a regular 
 system of laws and morality. He contrasted 
 the wild Indian, roaming the desert in savage 
 independence, now revelling in the blood of 
 enemies, and in his turn, the victim of their 
 insatiable vengeance, with the peaceful citi- 
 zen, enjoying all the comforts of cultivated 
 life in this happy land; and only bounded in 
 his indulgences by those salutary restraints, 
 which contribute as well to his own happiness 
 as to that of society at large. He described 
 the husbandman, enjoying, in the bosom of 
 his family, a peaceful independence, undis- 
 turbed by apprehensions of midnight surprise, 
 plunder, and assassination ; and he finished 
 by a solemn appeal to heaven, that his sole 
 motive for coming among them was the love 
 ot his Creator and of his creatures. 
 
 As tne benevolent missionary closed his 
 appeal, Ked Jaci?:et, a Seneca chief of great 
 authority, and the most eloquent of all his 
 nation, rose and enforced the exhortations of 
 the venerable preacher. He repeated his 
 
240 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 leading arguments, and — with an eloquence 
 truly astonishing in one like him — pleaded 
 the cause of religion and humanity. The an- 
 cient council then deliberated for the space 
 of nearly two hours ; after which the oldest 
 man arose, and solemnly pronounced the re- 
 sult of their conference — " That the Christian 
 God was more wise, more just, more benefi- 
 cent and powerful, than the Great Spirit, and 
 that the missionary who had delivered his 
 precepts, ought to be cherished as their best 
 benefactor — their guide to future happiness.'' 
 When this decision was pronounced by the 
 venerable old man. and acquiesced in by the 
 people, the rage of the Prophet of the Alle- 
 ghany became terrible. He started from the 
 ground, seized his tomahawk, and denounc- 
 ing the speedy vengeance of the Great Spirit 
 uj)on their whole recreant race, darted from 
 the circle with wild impetuosity, and disap- 
 peared in the shadows of the forest. 
 
PETER OTSAQUETTE. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE FORCE OF EARLY HABIT. 
 
 ETER OTSAQUETTE 
 
 was the son of a 
 man of conside- 
 ration among the 
 Oneida Indians 
 of New York. At 
 the close of the 
 % Revolution, he 
 was noticed by 
 the Marquis de Lafayette, who, to a noble 
 
 21 (241) 
 
242 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 zeal for liberty, united the most philanthropic 
 feelings. Viewing, therefore, this young 
 savage with peculiar interest, and anticipat- 
 ing the happy results to be derived from his 
 moral regeneration, he took him, though 
 scarcely twelve years old, to France. Peter 
 arrived at that period when Louis XYI. and 
 Maria Antoinette were in the zenith of their 
 glory. There he was taught the accomplish- 
 ments of a gentleman ; — music, drawing, and 
 fencing, were made familiar to him, and he 
 danced with a grace that a Yestris could not 
 but admire. At about eighteen, his separa- 
 tion from a country in which he had spent 
 his time so agreeably and profitably, became 
 necessary. Laden with favors from the Mar- 
 quis, and the miniatures of those friends he 
 had left behind, Peter departed for America — 
 inflated, perhaps, with the idea, that the deep 
 ignorance of his nation, with that of the In- 
 dians of the whole continent, might be dis- 
 pelled by his efforts, and he become the proud 
 instrument of the civilization of thousands. 
 Prosecuting his route to the land of his 
 
PETER OTSAQUETTE. 243 
 
 parents, he came to the city of Albany ; not 
 the uncivilized savage, not with any of those 
 marks which bespoke a birth in the forest, 
 or spent in toiling the wilds of a desert, but 
 possessing a fine commanding figure, an ex- 
 pressive countenance, and intelligent eye, 
 with a face scarcely indicative of the race 
 from which he was descended. He presented, 
 at this period, an interesting spectacle; a 
 child of the wilderness was beheld about to 
 proceed to the home of his forefathers, having 
 received the brilliant advantages of a culti- 
 vated mind, and on his way to impart to the 
 nation that owned him, the benefits which 
 civilization had given him. It was an oppor- 
 tunity for the philosopher to contemplate, 
 and to reflect on the future good this young 
 Indian might be the means of producing. 
 
 Shortly after his arrival in Albany — where 
 he visited the first families — he took advan- 
 tage of Governor Clinton's journey to Fort 
 Stanwix, where a treaty was to be held with 
 the Indians, to return to his tribe. On the 
 route, Otsaquette amused the company, among 
 
244 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 whom were the French Minister, Count de 
 Moustiers, and several gentlemen of respecta- 
 bility, by his powers on various instruments 
 of music. At Fort Stanwix, he found him- 
 self again with the companions of his early 
 days, who saw and recognised him. His 
 friends and relations had not forgotten him, 
 and he was welcomed to his home and to his 
 blanket. 
 
 But that which occurred soon after his re- 
 ception, led him to a too fearful anticipation 
 of an unsuccessful project; for the Oneidas, 
 as if they could not acknowledge Otsaquette, 
 attired in the dress with which he appeared 
 before them, a mark which did not disclose 
 his nation, and, thinking that he had assumed 
 it, as if ashamed of his own native costume, 
 the garb of his ancestors, they tore it from 
 him with a savage avidity, and a fiend-like 
 ferociousness, daubed on the paint to which 
 he had been so long unused, and clothed him 
 ' with the uncouth habiliments held sacred by 
 his tribe. Their fiery ferocity, in the per- 
 formance of the act, showed but too well the 
 
PETER OTSAQUETTE. 245 
 
 bold stand they were about to take against 
 the innovations they supposed Otsaquette 
 was to be the agent for affecting against their 
 immemorial manners and customs, and which 
 from the venerable antiquity of their struc- 
 ture, it would be nothing short of sacrilege 
 to destroy. 
 
 Thus the reformed savage was taken back 
 again to his native barbarity, and, as if to 
 cap the climax of degradation to a mind just 
 susceptible of its own powers, was married to 
 a squaw. 
 
 From that day Otsego was no longer the 
 accomplished Indian, from whom every wish 
 of philanthrophy was expected to be realized. 
 He was no longer the instrument by whose 
 power the emancipation of his countrymen 
 from the thraldom of ignorance and supersti- 
 tion, was to be effected. From that day he 
 was an inmate of the forest ; was once more 
 buried in his original obscurity, and his na- 
 tion only viewed him as an equal. Even a 
 liberal grant from the state, failed of securing 
 to him that superior consideration among 
 
 21* 
 
246 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 them which his civilization had procured for 
 him with the rest of mankind. The com- 
 manding pre-eminence acquired from instruc- 
 tion, from which it was expected ambition 
 would have sprung up, and acted as a double 
 stimulant, from either the natural inferiority 
 of the savage mind, or the predetermination 
 of his countrymen, became of no effect, and, 
 in a little time, was wholly annihilated. Ot- 
 saquette was lost. His moral perdition began 
 from the hour he left Fort Stanwix. Three 
 short months had hardly transpired, when 
 intemperance had marked him as her own, 
 and soon hurried him to the grave. And, as 
 if the very transition had deadened the finer 
 feelings of his nature, the picture given him 
 by the Marquis — the very portrait of his af- 
 fectionate friend and benefactor himself — he 
 parted with. 
 
 Extraordinary and unnatural as the con- 
 duct of this uneducated savage may appear, 
 the anecdote is not of a kind altogether 
 unique', which proves, that little or nothing 
 is to be expected from conferring a literary 
 
PETER OTSAQUETTE. 247 
 
 education upon the rude children of the 
 forest : An Indian named George White-Eyes, 
 was taken, while a boy, to the college at 
 Princeton, where he received a classical edu- 
 cation. On returning to his nation, he made 
 some little stay in Philadelphia, where he 
 wjis introduced to some genteel families. He 
 was amiable in his manners, and of modest 
 demeanor, without exhibiting any trait of the 
 savage whatever ; but, no sooner had he- re- 
 joined his friends and former companions, in 
 the land of his nativity, than he dropped the 
 garb and manner of civilization, and resumed 
 those of the savage, and drinking deep of the 
 intoxicating cup, ,soon put a period to his 
 existence. 
 
 Many other instances might be adduced to 
 show how ineffectual have been the attempts 
 to plant civilization on savage habits, by 
 means of literary education — " Can the leopard 
 change his spots ?" 
 

 
 
 PERFIDY PUNISHED. 
 
 N the early part of tLe 
 revolutionary war, a 
 sergeant and twelve 
 armed men, undertook 
 a journey through the 
 wilderness of New 
 Hampshire. Their si- 
 tuation was remote 
 from any settlements, and they were under 
 (248) 
 
INDIAN PERFIDY. 249 
 
 the necessity of encamping over night in the 
 woods. In the early part of the struggle for 
 independence, the Indians were numerous, 
 and did not stand idle spectators to a con- 
 flict carried on with so much zeal and ardour 
 by the whites. Some tribes were friendly to 
 oijr cause, 'while many upon our borders took 
 part with the enemy, and were very trouble- 
 some in their savage manner of warfare, — as 
 was often learned from the woful experience 
 of their midnight depredations. The leader 
 of the above mentioned party was well ac- 
 quainted with the different tribes, and — from 
 much intercourse with them, previous to the 
 war — was not ignorant of the idiom, physiog- 
 nomy, and dress, of each; and, at the com- 
 mencement of hostilities, was informed for 
 which party they had raised the hatchet. 
 
 E'othing material happened, the first day 
 of their excursion ; but early in the afternoon 
 of the second, they frbm an eminence, dis- 
 covered a body of armed Indians advancing 
 towards them, whose number rather exceeded 
 their own. As soon as the whites were per- 
 
250 STORIES OF. THE INDIANS. 
 
 ceived by their red brethren, the latter made 
 signals, and the two parties approached each 
 other in an amicable manner. The Indians 
 appeared to be much gratified with meeting 
 the sergeant and his men, whom, they ob- 
 served, they considered as their protectors ; 
 said they belonged to a tribe which had 
 raised the hatchet with zeal, in the cause of 
 liberty, and were determined to do all in their 
 power to injure the common enemy. They 
 shook hands in friendship, and it was, " How 
 d'ye do, pro P^ that being their pronunciation 
 of the word brother. When they had con- 
 versed with each other for some time, and 
 exchanged mutual good wishes, they sepa- 
 rated, and each party travelled in different 
 directions. After proceeding a mile or more, 
 the sergeant halted his men, and addressed 
 them in the following words : 
 
 "My brave companions! we must use the 
 utmost caution, or thfs night may be our last. 
 Should w^e not make some extraordinary ex- 
 ertion to defend ourselves, to-morrow's sun 
 may find us sleeping, never to wake. You 
 
PERFIDY PUNISHED. 251 
 
 are surprised, comrades, at my words, and 
 your anxiety will not be lessened, when I 
 inform you, that we have just passed our in- 
 veterate foe, who, under the mask of pretended 
 friendship you have witnessed, would lull us 
 into fancied security, and, by such means, in 
 the unguarded inoments of our midnight 
 slumber, without resistance, seal out fate!" 
 
 The men were astonished at this harangue, 
 for they supposed the party they had encoun- 
 tered were friends. They resolved for their own 
 preservation to adopt the following scheme : 
 Their night's encampment was near a stream. 
 They felled a large tree, before which a bril- 
 liant fire was made, and each individual cut 
 a log of wood the size of his body, rolled it into 
 his blanket, and placed it before the fire, that 
 the enemy might take it for. a man. The fire 
 was kept burning until near midnight, when 
 it was expected an attack would be made. 
 Soon a tall Indian was seen through the glim- 
 mering fire, cautiously moving towards them. 
 His actions showed that he was suspicious of 
 a guard being posted to give an alai-m ; but 
 
252 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 finding all quiet, lie moved forward, and was 
 seen to move his finger as lie numbered each 
 log, or, what he supposed to be a man asleep. 
 To satisfy himself as to the number, he re- 
 counted them, and retired. A second Indian 
 went through the same movements. 
 
 The whole party, sixteen in number, now 
 cautiously advanced, and eagerly eyeing their 
 supposed victims. The sergeant's party could 
 scarcely be restrained from firing upon them ; 
 but the plan was to remain silent until the 
 guns of the savages were discharged, so that 
 their own might be more efiectual. 
 
 Their suspense was short. The Indians ap- 
 proached, till within a short distance; they 
 then halted, took deliberate aim, fired upon 
 the logs, and rushed forward with scalping 
 knife, to take the scalps of the dead. As soon 
 as they were collected in a close body, more 
 effectually to execute their horrid intentions, 
 the party of the sergeant, with unerring aim, 
 discharged their muskets upon the savages ; 
 not one of whom escaped destruction. 
 
BUILDING ENCAMPMENT ON RED RIVER. 
 
ADYENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE, 
 
 COMPRISING AN ACCOUNT OF THE WARS WITH THE 
 INDIANS ON THE OHIO, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 FT was on the first of 
 1 May, 1769, that I re- 
 signed my domestic hap- 
 piness, and left my family 
 and peaceful habitation 
 on the Tadkin river, in 
 North "Carolina, to wan- 
 der through the wilderness of America, in 
 
 (255) 
 
256 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 quest of the country of Kentucky, in ccJmpany 
 with John Finley, John Stuart, Joseph HoldeA, 
 James Monay, and William Cool. 
 
 On the 7th of June, after travelling in a 
 western direction, we found ourselves on Eed 
 Eiver, where John Finley, had formerly been 
 trading with the Indians, and from the top 
 of an eminence saw with pleasure the beau- 
 tiful level of Kentucky. For some time we 
 had experienced the most uncomfortable wea- 
 ther. We now encamped, made a shelter to 
 defend us from the inclement season, and be- 
 gan to hunt and reconnoitre the country. We 
 found abundance of beasts in this vast forest. 
 The buffaloes were more numerous than cattle 
 on their settlements, browsing on the leaves 
 of the cane, or cropping the herbage on these 
 extensive plains. We saw hundreds in a 
 drove, and the numbers around the salt 
 springs were amazing. In this forest, the 
 habitation of beasts of every American kind, 
 we hunted with great success until December. 
 
 On the 22d of December, John Stuart and 
 I had a pleasing ramble ; but fortune changed 
 
H 
 
 l-H 
 
 O 
 
 w 
 
 W 
 
 a 
 
 o 
 
 22'' 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 259 
 
 the day at the close of it. We passed through 
 a great forest, in which stood myriads of trees, 
 some gay with blossoms, others rich with 
 fruits. Nature was here a series of wonders, 
 and a fund of delight. Here she displayed 
 her ingenuity and industry in a variety of 
 flowers and fruits, beautifully colored, ele- 
 gantly shaped, and charmingly flavored ; and 
 we were favored with numberless animals 
 presenting themselves perpetually to our view. 
 In the decline of the day, near Kentucky 
 river, as we ascended the brow of a small 
 hill, a number of Indians rushed out of a cane 
 brake and made us prisoners. 
 
 The Indians plundered us and kept us in 
 confinement seven days. During this time 
 we discovered no uneasiness or desire to 
 escape, which made them less suspicious ; 
 but in the dead of night, as we lay by a large 
 fire in a thick cane brake, when sleep had 
 locked up their senses, my situation not dis- 
 posing me to rest, I gently awoke my compa- 
 nion. We seized this favorable opportunity 
 and departed ; directing our course towards 
 
260 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 the old camp, but we found it plundered and 
 our company destroyed or dispersed. 
 
 About this time as my brother with an- 
 other adventurer, who came to explore the 
 country shortly after us, were wandering 
 through the forest, they accidentally found our 
 camp. Notwithstanding our unfortunate cir- 
 cumstances, and our dangerous situation, sur- 
 rounded by hostile savages, our meeting for- 
 tunately in the wilderness gave us the most 
 sensible satisfaction. 
 
 Soon after this, my companion in captivity, 
 John Stuart, was killed by the savages, and 
 the man who came with my brother, while on 
 a private excursion, was soon after attacked 
 and killed by the wolves. We were now in a 
 dangerous and helpless situation, exposed 
 daily to perils and death, among savages and 
 wild beasts, not a white man in the country 
 but ourselves. 
 
 Although many hundred miles from our 
 families, in the howling wilderness, we did 
 not continue in a state of indolence, but 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 261 
 
 A WOLF. 
 
 hunted every day, and prepared a little cot- 
 tage to defend us from the winter. 
 
 On the 1st of May, 1770, my brother re- 
 turned home for a new recruit of horses and 
 ammunition ; leaving me alone, without salt, 
 bread, or sugar, or even a horse or a dog. I 
 passed a few days uncomfortably. The idea 
 of a beloved wife and family, and their anx- 
 iety on my account, would have disposed me 
 to melancholy if I had further indulged in 
 the thought. 
 
 One day I undertook a tour through the 
 country, when the diversity and beauties of 
 
262 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 nature I met with in this charming season, 
 expelled every gloomy thought. Just at the 
 close of the day, the gentle gales ceased; a 
 profound calm ensued; not a breath shook 
 the tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit 
 of a commanding ridge, and looking around 
 with astonishing delight, beheld the ample 
 plains and beauteous tracts below. On one 
 hand I surveyed the famous Ohio rolling in 
 silent dignity, and marking the., western 
 boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable 
 grandeur. At a vast distance I beheld the 
 mountains lift their venerable brows and pe- 
 netrate the clouds, All things were still. 1 
 kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, 
 and feasted on the line of a buck which I had 
 killed a few hours before. The shades of 
 night soon overspread the hemisphere, and 
 the earth seemed to gasp after the hovering 
 moisture. At a distance I frequently heard 
 the hideous yells of savages. My excursion 
 had fatigued my body and amused my mind. 
 I laid me down to sleep, and awoke not until 
 the sun had chased away the night. I con- 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 263 
 
 A WILD BUCK. 
 
 tinued this tour, and in a few days explored 
 a considerable part of the country, each day 
 equally pleasing as the first. After which I 
 returned to my old camp, which had not been 
 disturbed in my absence. I did not confine 
 my lodging to it, but often reposed in thick 
 cane brakes to avoid the savages, who I be- 
 lieve frequently visited my camp, but fortu- 
 
264: STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 nately for me in my absence. ^N'o populous 
 city, with all its varieties of commerce and 
 stately structures, could afford such pleasure 
 to my mind, as the beauties of nature which 
 I found in this country. 
 
 Until the 27th of July, I spent my time in 
 an uninterrupted scene of sylvan pleasures, 
 when my brother, to my great felicity, met 
 me, according to appointment, at our old 
 camp. Soon after we left the place and pro- 
 ceeded to Cumberland river, reconnoitring 
 that part of the country, and giving names to 
 the different rivers. 
 
 In March, 1771, I returned home to my 
 family, being determined to bring them as 
 soon as possible, at the risk of my life and 
 fortune, to reside in Kentucky, which I es- 
 teemed a second paradise. 
 
 On my return I found my family in happy 
 circumstances. I sold my farm on the Yadkin, 
 and what goods we could not carry with us, 
 and on the 25th of September, 1773, we tools 
 leave of our friends, and proceeded on oui 
 journey to Kentucky, in company with five 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 265 
 
 BOONE SETTLES ON CLENCH RIVER. 
 
 more families, and forty men that joined us 
 in Power s Yalley, which is one hundred and 
 fifty miles from the new settled parts of Ken- 
 tucky. But this promising beginning was 
 soon overcast with a cloud of adversity. 
 
 On the 10th of October, the rear of our 
 company was attacked by a party of Indians ; 
 who killed six, and wounded one man. Of 
 these my eldest son was one that fell in the 
 action. Though we repulsed the enemy, yet 
 this unhappy affair scattered our cattle and 
 
 23 
 
266 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 brought us into extreme difficulty. We re- 
 turned forty miles to the settlement on Clench 
 river. We had passed over two mountains, 
 Power s and Walden's, and were approaching 
 Cumberland mountain, when this adverse 
 fortune overtook us. These mountains are in 
 the wilderness, in passing from the old set- 
 tlement in Virginia to Kentucky ; are ranged 
 in a south-west and north-east direction ; are 
 of great length and breadth, and not far dis- 
 tant from each other. Over them nature has 
 formed passes less difficult than might be ex- 
 pected from the view of such huge piles. The 
 aspect of these cliffs is so wild and horrid, 
 that it is impossible to behold them without 
 horror. 
 
 Until the 6th of June, 1774, I remained 
 with my family on the Clench, when myself 
 and another person were solicited by Gover- 
 nor Dunmore, of Virginia, to conduct a num- 
 ber of surveyors to the Falls of Ohio. This 
 was a tour of eight hundred miles, and took 
 sixty-two days. 
 
 On my return, Governor Dunmore gave me 
 
ADVENTUKES OF DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 2(5 
 
 BOONE ATTENDS THE INDIAN TEEATT AT WATAGA. 
 
 the command of three garrisons during the 
 campaign against the Shawanese. In March, 
 1775, at the solicitation of a number of gentle- 
 men of North Carolina, I attended their treaty 
 at Wataga with the Cherokee Indians, to pur- 
 chase the lands on the south side of Kentucky 
 river. After this, I undertook to mark out a 
 road in the best passage from the settlements 
 through the wilderness to Kentucky. 
 
 Having collected a number of enterprising 
 men, well armed, I soon began this work. 
 We proceeded until we came within fifteen 
 miles of where Boonesborough now stands, 
 
268 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 ^'^: 
 
 
 
 
 SCENERY ON THE KENTUCKY RIVER. 
 
 where the Indians attacked us, and killed 
 two and wounded two more of our party. 
 This was on the 22d of March, 1775. Two 
 days after we were again attacked by them, 
 when we had two more killed and three 
 wounded. After this we proceeded on to 
 Kentucky river without opposition. 
 
 On the 1st of April we began to erect the 
 fort of Boonesborough, at a salt lick sixty 
 yards from the river, on the south side. On 
 the 4th, the Indians killed one of our men. 
 On the 14th of June, having completed the 
 fort, I returned to my family on the Clench, 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 269 
 
 and whom I soon after removed to the fort. 
 My wife and daughter were supposed to be 
 the first white women that ever stood on the 
 banks of Kentucky river. 
 
 On the 24th of December, the Indians 
 killed one of our men and wounded another ; 
 and on the 15th of July, 1776, they took my 
 daughter prisoner. I immediately pursued 
 them with eight men, and on the 16th over- 
 took and engaged them. I killed two of them, 
 and recovered my daughter. 
 
 The Indians having divided themselves into 
 several parties, attacked in one day all our 
 infant settlements and forts, doing a great 
 deal of damage. The husbandmen were am- 
 bushed and unexpectedly attacked while toil- 
 ing in the field. They continued this kind 
 of warfare until the 15th of April, 1777, when 
 nearly one hundred of them attacked the vil- 
 lage of Boonesborough, and killed a number 
 of its inhabitants. On the 16th Colonel Lo- 
 gan's fort was attacked by two hundred In- 
 dians. There were only thirteen men in the 
 
 23* 
 
270 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 fort, of whom the enemy killed two and 
 wounded one. 
 
 On the 20th of August, Colonel Bowman 
 arrived with one hundred men from Virginia, 
 with which additional force we had almost 
 daily skirmishes with the Indians, who began 
 now to learn the superiority of the "long 
 knife," as they termed us the Virginians ; be- 
 ing outgeneraled in almost every action. Our 
 affairs began now to wear a better aspect, the 
 Indians no longer daring to face us in open 
 field, but sought private opportunities to de- 
 stroy us. 
 
 On the 7th of February, 1778, while on a 
 hunting excursion alone, I met a party of 
 one hundred and two Indians and two French- 
 men, marching to attack Boonesborough. 
 They pursued and took me prisoner, and con- 
 veyed' me to Old Chilicothe, the principal In- 
 dian town on Little Miami, where we arrived 
 on the 18th of February, after an uncomfort- 
 able journey. On the lOth of March I was 
 conducted to Detroit, and while there, was 
 treated with great humanity by Governor 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 271 
 
 Hamilton, the British commander, at that 
 post, and intendant for Indian affairs. 
 
 The Indians had such an affection for me 
 that they refused one hundred pounds sterling 
 offered them by the governor, if they would 
 consent to leave me with him, that he might 
 be enabled to liberate me on my parole. 
 Several English gentlemen then at Detroit, 
 sensible of my adverse fortune, and touched 
 with sympathy, generously offered to supply 
 my wants, which I declined with many thanks, 
 adding that I never expected it would be in 
 my power to recompense such unmerited 
 generosity. 
 
 On the 10th of April, the Indians returned 
 with me to Old Chilicothe, were .we arrived 
 on the 25th. This was a long and fatiguing 
 march, although through an exceeding fertile 
 country, remarkable for springs and streams 
 of water. At Chilicothe I spent my time as 
 comfortably as I could expect ; was adopted 
 according to their custom, into a family where 
 1 became a son, and had a great share in the 
 affection of my new parents, brothers, sisters, 
 
272 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and friends. I was exceedingly familiar and 
 friendly with them, always appearing as 
 cheerful and contented as possible, and they 
 put great confidence in me. I often went a 
 hunting with them, and frequently gained 
 their applause for my activity at our shooting 
 matches. I was careful not to exceed many 
 of them in shooting, for no people are more 
 envious than they in this sport. I could ob- 
 serve in their countenances and gestures the 
 greatest expressions of joy, when they ex- 
 ceeded me, and when the reverse happened, 
 of envy. The Shawanese king took great no- 
 tice of me, and treated me with profound re- 
 spect and entire friendship, often entrusting 
 me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently re- 
 turned with the spoils of the woods, and as 
 often presented some of what I had taken to 
 him, expressive of duty to my sovereign. My 
 food and lodging was in common with them, 
 not so good indeed as I could desire, but ne- 
 cessity made every thing acceptable. 
 
 I now began to meditate an escape, and 
 carefully avoided giving suspicion. I con- 
 
ADVENTURES OP DANIEL BOONE. 2^3 
 
 tinued at Chilicothe until the 1st day of June, 
 when I was taken to the salt springs on the 
 Sciota, and there employed ten days in the 
 manufacturing of salt. During this time I 
 hunted with my Indian masters, and found 
 the land, for a great- extent about this river, 
 to exceed the soil of Kentucky. 
 
 On my return to Chilicothe, one hundred 
 and fifty of the choicest warriors were ready 
 to march against Boonesborough. They were 
 painted and armed in a frightful manner. 
 This alarmed me, and I determined to escape. 
 
 On the 18th of June, before sun rise, I went 
 off secretly, and reached Boonesborough on 
 the 20th, a journey of one hundred and sixty 
 miles, during w^hich I had only one meal. I 
 found our fortress in a bad state, but we im- 
 mediately repaired our flanks, gates, and pos- 
 terns, and formed double bastions, which we 
 completed in ten days. One of my fellow, 
 prisoners escaped after me, and brought ad- 
 vice that on account of my flight the Indians 
 had put off their expedition for three weeks. 
 
 About the first of August I set out with 
 
274 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 nineteen men, to surprise Point Creek Town, 
 on Sciota, within four miles of which we fell 
 in with forty Indians, going against Boones- 
 borough. We attacked them and they soon 
 gave way without any loss on our part. The 
 enemy had one killed and two wounded. We 
 took three horses and all their baggage. The 
 Indians having evacuated their town, and 
 gone altogether against Boonesborough, we re- 
 turned, passed them on the 6th, and on the 
 7th arrived safe at Boonesborough. 
 
 On the 9 th the Indian army, consisting of 
 four hundred and forty-four men, under the 
 command of Captain Duquesne, and eleven 
 other Frenchmen and their own chiefs, arrived 
 and summoned the fort to surrender. I re- 
 quested two days' consideration, which was 
 granted. During this we brought in through 
 the posterns all the horses and other cattle 
 we could collect. 
 
 On the 9th, in the evening, I informed their 
 commander that we were determined to defend 
 the fort while a man was living. They then 
 proposed a treaty, they would withdraw. The 
 
BOONE TAKEN PRISONER. 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 277 
 
 treaty was held within sixty yards of the fort, 
 as we suspected the savages. The articles 
 were agreed to and signed ; when the Indians 
 told us it was their custom for two Indians 
 to shake hands with every white man in the 
 treaty, as an evidence of friendship. We 
 agreed to this also. They immediately grap- 
 pled us to take us prisoners, but we cleared 
 ourselves of them, though surrounded by hun- 
 dreds, and gained the fort safe, except one 
 man, who was wounded by a heavy fire from 
 the enemy. 
 
 The savages now began to undermine the 
 fort, beginning at the water mark of the Ken- 
 tucky river, which is sixty yards from the 
 fort ; this we discovered by the water being 
 muddy by the clay. We countermined them 
 by cutting a trench across their subterraneous 
 passage. The enemy discovering this by the 
 clay we threw out of the fort, desisted. On 
 the 20th of August, they raised the siege, 
 during which we had two men killed and four 
 wounded. We lost a number of cattle. The 
 enemy had thirty-seven killed, and a much 
 
 24 
 
278 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 larger number wounded. We picked up one 
 hundred and twenty-five pounds of their bul- 
 lets, besides what stuck in the logs of the fort. 
 
 In July? 1779, during my absence, Colonel 
 Bowman, with one hundred and sixty men, 
 went against the Shawanese of Old Chilicothe. 
 He arrived undiscovered. A battle ensued 
 which lasted until ten in the morning, when 
 Colonel Bowman retreated thirty miles. The 
 Indians collected all their strength and pur- 
 sued him, when another engagement ensued 
 for two hours, not to Colonel Bowman's ad- 
 vantage. Colonel Harrod proposed to mount 
 a number of horses, and break the enemy's 
 line, who at this time fought with remarkable 
 fury. This desperate measure had a happy 
 effect, and the savages fled on all sides. In 
 these two engagements we had nine men 
 killed and one wounded. The enemy's loss 
 uncertain. Only two scalps were taken. 
 
 June 23d, 1780, five hundred Indians and 
 Canadians, under Colonel Bird, attacked Kid- 
 dle and Martin's station, on the forks of Lick- 
 ing river, with six pieces of artillery. They 
 
ADVENTURES OP DANIEL BOONE. 279 
 
 took all the inhabitants captives, and killed 
 one man and two women, loading the others 
 with the heavy baggage, and such as failed 
 in the journey were tomahawked. 
 
 The hostile disposition of the savages 
 caused General Clark, the commandant at the 
 Falls of Ohi-o, to march with his regiment 
 and the armed force of the country against 
 Peccaway, the principal town of the Shawa- 
 nese, on a branch of the Great Miami, which 
 he attacked with great success, took seventy 
 scalps, and reduced the town to ashes, with 
 the loss of seventeen men. 
 
 About this time I returned to Kentucky 
 with my family ; for during my captivity, my 
 wife thinking me killed by the Indians, had 
 transported my family and goods on horses 
 through the wilderness, amidst many dangers, 
 to her father's house in North Carolina. 
 
 On the 6th of October, 1780, soon after my 
 settling again at Boonesborough, I went with 
 my brother to the Blue Licks, and on our re- 
 turn he was shot* by a party of Indians, who 
 followed me by the scent of a dog, which I 
 
280 STORIES or the Indians. 
 
 shot and escaped. The seventy of the winter 
 caused great distress in Kentucky, the enemy 
 during the summer having destroyed most 
 of the corn. The inhabitants lived chiefly 
 on buffalo's flesh. 
 
 In the spring of 1782, the Indians harassed 
 us. In May, they ravished, killed, and scalped 
 a woman and her two daughters, near Ash- 
 ton's station, and took a negro prisoner. 
 Captain Ashton pursued them with twenty- 
 men, and in an engagement which lasted two 
 hours, his party were obliged to retreat, hav- 
 ing eight killed, and four mortally wounded. 
 Their brave commander fell in the action. 
 
 August 18th, two boys were carried off from 
 Major Hoy's station. Captain Hold en pur- 
 sued the enemy with seventeen men, who 
 were also defeated, with the loss of seven 
 killed and two wounded. Our affairs became 
 more and more alarming. The savages in- 
 fested the country and destroyed the whites 
 as opportunity presented. In a field near 
 ■ Lexington, an Indian shot g, man, and running 
 to scalp him, was himself shot from the fort, 
 
ADVENTURES 9F DANIEL BOONE. 281 
 
 and fell dead upon the ground. All the In- 
 dian nations were now united against us. 
 
 August loth, five hundred Indians and 
 Canadians came against Briat's station, five 
 miles from Lexington. They assaulted the 
 fort and all the cattle round it ; but being 
 repulsed, they ^retired the third day, having 
 about eighty killed ; their wounded uncertain. 
 The garrison had four killed and nine wounded. 
 
 August 18th, Colonels Todd and Trigg, Ma- 
 jor Harland and myself, speedily collected 
 one hundred and seventy-six men, well armed, 
 and pursued the savages. They had marched 
 beyond the Blue Lick, to a remarkable bend 
 of the main fork of Licking river, about forty- 
 three miles from Lexington, where we over- 
 took them on the 19th. The savages observ- 
 ing us, gave way, and we being ignorant of 
 their numbers, passed the river. When they 
 saw our proceedings, having greatly the ad- 
 vantage in situation, they formed their line 
 of battle from one end of Licking to the other, 
 about a mile from the Blue Licks. The en- 
 gagement was close and warm for about fif- 
 
 24* 
 
282 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 teen minutes, when we being overpowered by 
 numbers, were obliged to retrea,t, with the loss 
 of seventy-seven men, seven of whom were 
 taken prisoners. The brave and much la- 
 mented Colonels Todd and Trigg, Major Har- 
 land, and my second son were among the 
 dead. We were afterwards informed that the 
 Indians on numbering their dead, finding 
 that they had four more killed than we, four 
 of our people that they had taken were given 
 up to their young warriors, to be put to death 
 after their barbarous manner. 
 
 On our retreat we were met by Colonel Lo- 
 gan, who was hastening to join us with a 
 number of well armed men. This powerful 
 assistance we wanted on the day of battle. 
 The enemy said one more fire from us would 
 have made them give way. 
 
 I cannot reflect upon this dreadful scene, 
 without great sorrow. A zeal for the defence 
 of their country led these heroes to the scene 
 of action, though with a few men, to attack 
 a powerful army of experienced warriors. 
 When we gave way, they pursued us with the 
 
ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. ' 
 
 283 
 
 MOUNTED MUSKETEER. 
 
 utmost eagerness, and in every quarter spread 
 destruction. The river was difficult to cross, 
 and many were killed in the fight, some just 
 entering the river, some in the water, and 
 others after crossing, in ascending the cliffs. 
 Some escaped on horseback, a few on foot ; 
 and being dispersed every where, in a few 
 hours, brought the melancholy news of this 
 
284 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 unfortunate battle to Lexington. Many 
 widows were made. ' The reader may guess 
 what sorrow filled the hearts of the inhabi- 
 tants, exceeding any thing that I am able to 
 describe. Being reinforced, we returned to 
 bury the dead, and found their bodies strewed 
 every where, cut and mangled in a dreadful 
 manner. This mournful scene exhibited a 
 horror almost unparalleled : some torn and 
 eaten by wild beasts ; those in the river eaten 
 by fishes ; and all in such a putrid condition 
 that no one could be distinguished from 
 another. 
 
 When General Clark, at the Falls of the 
 Ohio, heard of our disaster, he ordered an ex- 
 pedition to pursue the savages. We overtook 
 them within two miles of their town, and we 
 should have obtained a great victory had not 
 some of them met us when about two hun- 
 dred poles from their camp. The savages 
 fled in the utmost disorder, and evacuated 
 all their towns. We burned to ashes Old 
 Chilicothe, Peccaway, New Chilicothe, and 
 Wills Town; entirely destroyed their corn 
 
ADVENTUBES OF DANIEL BOONE. 285 
 
 and other fruits, and spread desolation through 
 their country. We took seven prisoners and 
 fifteen scalps, and lost only four men, two of 
 whom were accidentally killed by ourselves. 
 This campaign dampened the enemy, yet they 
 made secret incursions. 
 
 In October, a party attacked Crab Orchard, 
 and one of them being a good way before the 
 others, boldly entered a house in which were 
 only a woman and her children, and a negro 
 man. The savage used no violence, but at- 
 tempted to carry off the negro, who happily 
 proved too strong for him, and threw him on 
 the ground, and in the struggle the woman 
 cut off his head with an axe, whilst her 
 daughter shut the door. The savages instantly 
 came up and applied their tomahawks to the 
 door, when the mother putting an old rusty 
 gun barrel through the crevices, the savages 
 immediately went off. 
 
 From that time till the happy return of 
 peace between the United States and Great 
 Britain, the Indians did us no mischief. Soon 
 after this the Indians desired peace. 
 
286 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 Two darling sons and a brother I have lost 
 by savage hands, which have also taken from 
 me forty valuable horses, and abundance of 
 cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have 
 I spent, separated from the cheerful society 
 of men, scorched by the summer's sun, and 
 pinched by the winter's cold, an instrument 
 ordained to settle the wilderness. 
 
 BURYIAG THE DEAD. 
 
ADYENTUEE OF GENEEAL PUTNAM. 
 
 ^ <*, 
 
 N the montli of August, 
 1758, five hundred 
 men were employed, 
 under the orders of 
 Majors Eogers and 
 Putnam, to watch the 
 g^ French and Indians, 
 near Ticonderoga. At South Bay, they sepct- 
 
 (2e:j 
 
288 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 rated the party into two equal divisions, and 
 Eogers took a position on Wood creek, twelve 
 miles distant from Putnam. 
 
 Upon being, sometime afterwards, disco- 
 vered, they formed a re-union, and concerted 
 measures for returning to Fort Edward. Their 
 march through the woods, was in three divi- 
 sions, by files, the right commanded by Eogers, 
 the left by Putnam, and the centre by Cap- 
 tain D'Ell. The first night they encamped on 
 the banks of Clear river, about a nlile from 
 old Fort Ann, which had been formerly built 
 by General Mcholson. 
 
 Next morning, Major Eogers and a British 
 officer, named Irwin, incautiously suffered 
 themselves, from a spirit of false emulation, 
 to be engaged in firing at a mark. Nothing 
 could have been more repugnant to the mili- 
 tary principles of Putnam than such conduct, 
 or reprobated by him in more pointed terms. 
 As soon as the heavy dew which had fallen 
 the preceding night would permit, the de- 
 tachment moved in one bod}^, Putnam being 
 in front, D'Ell in centre, and Eogers in the 
 
ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 289 
 
 I'bdr. The impervious growth of shrubs, and 
 underbrush, that had sprung up, where the 
 land had been partially cleared some years 
 before, occasioned this change in the order 
 of march. At the moment of moving, the 
 famous French partisan, Molang, who had 
 been sent with five hundred men,, to intercept 
 our party, was riot more than a mile and a 
 half distant from them. Having heard the 
 firing, he hastened to lay an ambuscade pre- 
 cisely in that part of the wood most favorable 
 to his project. Major Putnam was just 
 emerging from the thicket, into the common 
 forest, when the enemy rose, and with dis- 
 cordant yells and whoops, commenced an at- 
 tack upon the right of his division. Sur- 
 prised, but undismayed, Putnam halted, re- 
 turned the fire, and passed the word for the 
 other divisions to advance for his support. 
 D'EU came. The action, though widely scat- 
 tered, and principally fought between man 
 and man, soon grew general and intensely 
 warm. It would be as difficult as useless to 
 describe this irregular and ferocious mode of 
 
 25 
 
290 STOKIBS OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 fighting. Eogers came not up; but, as he 
 declared afterwards, formed a circular file be- 
 tween our party and "Wood creek, to prevent 
 their being taken in rear or enfiladed. Suc- 
 cessful as he commonly was, his conduct did 
 not always pass without unfavorable imputa- 
 tion. Notwithstanding, it was a current say- 
 ing in the camp, '' that Eogers always sent, 
 but Putnam led his men to action," — yet, in 
 justice, it ought to be remarked here, that 
 the latter has never been known, in relating 
 the story of this day's disaster, to fix any 
 stigma upon the conduct of the former. 
 
 Major Putnam, perceiving it would be im- 
 practicable to cross the creek, determined to 
 maintain his ground. Inspired by his ex- 
 ample, the officers and men behaved with 
 great bravery : sometimes they fought collec- 
 tively in open view, and sometimes indivi- 
 dually under cover ; taking aim from behind 
 the bodies of trees, and acting in a manner 
 independent of each other. For himself, hav- 
 ing discharged his fuzee several times, at 
 length it missed fire, whilst the muzzle was 
 
ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 
 
 291 
 
 PUTNAM TAKEN PRISONER. 
 
 pressed against the breast of a large and well 
 proportioned savage. This vrarrior, availing 
 himself of the indefensible attitude of his ad- 
 versary, with a tremendous war-whoop sprang 
 forward, with his lifted hatchet, and compelled 
 him to surrender ; and having disarmed and 
 bound him fast to a tree, returned to the 
 battle. 
 
 The intrepid Captains D'EU and Harman, 
 who now commanded, were forced to give 
 ground for a little distance ; the savages, con- 
 ceiving this to be the certain harbinger of 
 
292 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 victory, rushed impetuously on, with dreadful 
 and redoubled cries. But our two partisans, 
 collecting a handful of brave men, gave the 
 pursuers so warm a reception as to oblige 
 them in turn, to retreat a little beyond the 
 spot at which the action had commenced. 
 
 Here they made a stand. This change of 
 ground occasioned the tree, to which Putnam 
 was tied, to be directly between the two par- 
 ties. Human imagination can hardly figure 
 to itself a more deplorable situation. The 
 balls flew incessantly from either side, many 
 struck the tree, while some passed through 
 the sleeves and skirts of his coat. In this 
 state of jeopardy, unable to move his body, 
 to stir his limbs, or even to incline his head, 
 he remained more than an hour. So equally 
 balanced, and so obstinate was the fight I 
 At one moment, while the battle swerved in 
 in favor of the enemy, a young savage chose 
 an odd way of discovering his humor. He 
 found Putnam bound. He might have de- 
 spatched him at a blow ; but he loved better 
 to excite the terrors of the prisoner, by hurl- 
 
ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 293 
 
 ing a tomahawk at his head, or rather it 
 should seem his object was to see how near 
 he could throw it without touching him — the 
 weapon struck in the tree a number of times 
 at a hair's breadth distant from the mark. 
 When the Indian had finished his amusement, 
 a French officer, (a much more inveterate 
 savage by nature, though descended from so 
 humane and polished a nation,) perceiving 
 Putnam, came up to him, and leveling a fu- 
 zee within a foot of his breast, attempted to 
 discharge it ; it missed fire — inefiectually did 
 the intended victim solicit the treatment due 
 to his situation, by repeating that he was a 
 prisoner of war. The degenerate officer did 
 not understand the language of honor or of 
 nature ; deaf to their voice, and dead to sen- 
 sibility, he violently and repeatedly pushed 
 the muzzle of his gun against Putnam's ribs, 
 and finally gave him a cruel blow on the jaw 
 with the butt of his piece. After this das- 
 tardly deed he left him. 
 
 At length the active intrepidity of D'EU 
 and Harman, seconded by the persevering 
 
 25* 
 
294 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 valor of their followers, prevailed. They drov(j 
 from the field the enemy, who left about 
 ninety dead behind them. As they w^ere re- 
 tiring, Putnam was untied by the Indian who 
 had made him prisoner, and whom he after- 
 wards called master. 
 
 Having been conducted for some distance 
 from the place of action, he was stripped of 
 his coat, vest, stockings, and shoes; loaded 
 with as many packs of the wounded as could 
 be piled upon him : strongly pinioned, and 
 his wrists tied as closely together as they 
 could be pulled with a cord. After he had 
 marched through no pleasant paths, in this 
 painful manner, for many a tedious mile, the 
 party, who were excessively fatigued, halted 
 to breathe. His hands were now immode- 
 rately swelled from the tightness of the liga- 
 ture ; and the pain had become intolerable. 
 His feet were so much scratched that the 
 blood dropped fast from them. Exhausted 
 with bearing a burden above his strength, 
 and frantic with torments exquisite beyond 
 endurance, he entreated the Irish interpreter 
 
ADVENTURES OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 295 
 
 to implore as the last and only grace he de- 
 sired of the savages, that they would knock 
 him on the head and take his scalp at once, 
 or loose his hands. 
 
 A French officer, instantly interposing, or- 
 dered his hands to be unbound, and some of 
 the packs to be taken off. By this time the 
 Indian who captured him, and had been ab- 
 sent with the wounded, coming up, gave him 
 a pair of moccasins, and expressed great in- 
 dignation at the unworthy treatment his pri- 
 soner had suffered. 
 
 That savage chief again returned to the 
 care of the wounded, and, the Indians, about 
 two hundred in number, went before the rest 
 of the party to the place where the whole 
 were, that night, to encamp. They took with 
 them Major Putnam, on whom (besides innu- 
 merable other outrages) they had the barba- 
 rity to inflict a deep wound with a tomahawk, 
 in the cheek. His sufferings were in this ■ 
 place to be consummated. A scene of horror, 
 infinitely greater than had ever met his eyes 
 before, was now preparing. It was deter- 
 
296 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 mined to roast him alive. For this purpose 
 they led him into a dark forest, stripped him 
 naked, bound him to a tree, and piled dried 
 brush with other fuel, at a small distance, in 
 a circle round him. They accompanied their 
 labors, as if for his funeral dirge, with screams 
 and sounds inimitable but by savage voices. 
 Then they set the piles on fire. A sudden 
 shower damped the rising flame. Still they 
 strove to kindle it, until, at last, the blaze 
 ran fiercely round the circle. Major Putnam 
 soon began to feel the scorching heat. His 
 hands were so tied that he could move his 
 body. He often shifted sides as the fire ap- 
 proached. This sight, at the very idea of 
 which all but savages must shudder, afforded 
 the highest diversion to his inhuman tor- 
 mentors, who demonstrated the delirium of 
 their Joy by corresponding yells, dances, and 
 gesticulations. He saw clearly that his final 
 hour was inevitably come. He summoned 
 all his resolution and composed his mind, as 
 far as the circumstances could admit, to bid 
 an eternal farewell to all he held most dear. 
 
ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 297 
 
 To quit the world would scarcely have cost 
 a single pang, but for the idea of home ; but 
 for the remembrance of domestic endearments, 
 of the affectionate partner of his soul, and of 
 their beloved offspring. His thought was ul- 
 timately fixed on a happier state of existence, 
 beyond the tortures he was beginning to en- 
 dure. The bitterness of death, even of that 
 death which is accompanied with the keenest 
 agonies, was, in a manner, past — nature, with 
 a feeble struggle, was quitting its last hold 
 on sublunary things — when a French of&cer 
 rushed through the crowd, opened the way 
 by scattering the burning brands, and un- 
 bound the victim. It was Molang himself — 
 to whom a savage, unwilling to see another 
 human sacrifice immolated, had run and com- 
 municated the tidings. That commandant 
 spurned and severely reprimanded the barba- 
 rians, whose nocturnal powwows and hellish 
 orgies he suddenly ended. Putnam did not 
 want for feeling and gratitude. The French 
 commander, fearing to trust him alone with 
 
 % 
 
298 STORIES OF THE mDIANS. 
 
 them, remained until he could deliver him 
 in safety into the hands of his master. 
 
 The savage approached his prisoner kindly, 
 and seemed to treat him with peculiar affec- 
 tion. He offered him some hard biscuit, but 
 finding that he could not chew them, on ac- 
 count of the blow he had received from the 
 Frenchman, this more humane savage soaked 
 some of the biscuit in water and made him 
 suck the pulp-like part. Determined, how- 
 % ever, not to lose his captive (the refreshment 
 being finished) he took the moccasins from 
 his feet and tied them to one of his wrists ; 
 then directing him to lie down on his back 
 upon the bare ground, he stretched one arm 
 to its full length, and bound it fast to a young 
 tree ; the other arm was extended and bound 
 in the same manner — his legs were stretched 
 apart and fastened to two saplings. Then 
 a number of tall, but slender poles were cut 
 down; which, with some long bushes, were 
 laid across his body from head to foot: on 
 each side lay as many Indians as could con- 
 veniently find lodging, in order to prevent the 
 
ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 299 
 
 possibility of his escape. In this disagree- 
 able and painful posture he remained until 
 morning. During this night, the longest and 
 most dreary conceivable, our hero used to re- 
 late that he felt a ray of cheerfulness come 
 casually across his mind, and could not even 
 refrain from smiling, when he reflected on 
 this ludicrous group for a painter,, of which 
 he himself was the principal figure. 
 
 The next day he was allowed his blanket 
 and moccasins, and permitted to march with- 
 out carrying any pack, or receiving any in- 
 sult. To allay his extreme hunger, a little 
 bear's meat was given him, which he sucked 
 through his teeth. At night, the party ar- 
 rived at Ticonderoga, and the prisoner was 
 placed under a French guard. The savages, 
 who had been prevented from glutting their 
 diabolical thirst for blood, took other oppor- 
 tunities of manifesting their malevolence for 
 the disappointment, by horrid grimaces and 
 angry gestures ; but they were suffered no 
 more to offer violence or personal indignity to 
 him. 
 
300 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 After having been examined by the Mar- 
 quis de Montcalm, Major Putnam was con- 
 ducted to Montreal, by a French officer, who 
 treated him with the greatest indulgence and 
 humanity. 
 
 At this place were several prisoners. Co- 
 lonel Peter Schuyler, remarkable for his phi- 
 lanthropy, generosity, and friendship, was of 
 the number. No sooner had he heard of Ma- 
 jor Putnam's arrival, than he went to the in- 
 terpreter's quarters, and inquired whether he 
 had a provincial major in his custody. He 
 found Major Putnam in a comfortless condi- 
 tion — without hat, waistcoat, or hose — the 
 remnant of his clothing miserably dirty, and 
 ragged — his beard long and squalid — his legs 
 torn by thorns and briers — his face gashed 
 with wounds, and swollen with bruises. Co- 
 lonel Schuyler, irritated beyond all sufferance 
 at such a sight, could scarcely restrain his 
 speech within limits consistent with the pru- 
 dence of a prisoner, and the meekness of a 
 christian. Major Putnam was immediately 
 treated according to his rank, clothed in a 
 
ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 301 
 
 decent manner, and supplied with money by 
 that liberal and sympathetic patron of the 
 distressed. 
 
 The capture of Frontenac, by General Brad- 
 street, afforded occasion for an exchange of 
 prisoners : Colonel Schuyler was comprehended 
 in the cartel. A generous spirit can never 
 be satisfied with imposing tasks for its gene- 
 rosity to accomplish. Apprehensive if it 
 should be known that Putnam was a distin- 
 guished partisan, his liberation might be re- 
 tarded, and knowing that there were officers, 
 who, from the length of their captivity, had 
 a claim of priority to exchange ; he had, by 
 his happy address, induced the governor to 
 offer, that whatever officer he might think 
 proper to nominate, should be included in the 
 present cartel. With great politeness in 
 manner, but seeming indifference as to object, 
 he expressed his warmest acknowledgments 
 to the governor, and said : " There is an old 
 man here, who is a provincial major, and he 
 wishes to be at home with his wife and child- 
 ren. He can do no good here, or any where 
 
 26 
 
302 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 else: I believe your excellency had better 
 keep some of the young men, who have no 
 wife or children to care for, and let the old 
 fellow go home with me." This justifiable 
 finesse had the desired effect." 
 
GEORGE CALVERT, THE FIRST LORD BALTIMORE. 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MAKT'S. 
 
 T belonged to a mem- 
 ber of the once do- 
 minant sect of Ca- 
 tholics to glorify his 
 creed and clime, and to 
 set an example to the 
 world, in the establish- 
 ment of complete reli- 
 
 cious liberty. To George Calvert, the origi- 
 ^ 26* (305) 
 
306 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 nator of the scheme for colonizing Maryland, 
 this honor belonged; but, alas! he was not 
 permitted to execute the plans his noble 
 heart conceived, for death snatched him from 
 his labors, ere the boon 6e contemplated for 
 the world was ready to be given. 
 
 But Cecil Calvert was a worthy son of so 
 great a father. He at once entered into all 
 the plans of his deceased parent, and with a 
 veneration that does him credit, resolved that 
 they should be carried out to the fullest ex- 
 tent ; and the slightest wish the old lord had 
 expressed in regard to the new colony should 
 be religiously complied with. Bigots sneered 
 at him, enemies maligned, but, conscious of 
 the rectitude of his purpose, he steadily pur- 
 sued his plans. 
 
 Under the guidance of Leonard Calvert, (a 
 brother of the proprietor,) some two hundred 
 English gentlemen, and their servants, mostly 
 of the catholic persuasion, sailed for the pro- 
 vince, in November, 1633, and after the usual 
 vicissitudes and adventures of a sea voyage at 
 that period, arrived in the Potomac in the 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 307 
 
 spring of 1634. A small party was despatched 
 into the interior to explore the country pre- 
 vious to effecting a permanent settlement; 
 the woods were then all joyous and teeming 
 with grandeur, and loveliness of spring tint- 
 ing the fair face of nature with that peculiar 
 and fascinating beauty which is better felt 
 than described. 
 
 To" the sea- worn colonists, the country 
 opened before them as a broad fair haven, 
 where they might worship God free as the air 
 and feel themselves men. The scouts soon 
 returned, and, according to their direction, 
 the party moved up to a spot they had se- 
 lected on the banks of a clear and silvery 
 stream flowing into the broad river they had 
 first entered. Here, with the usual cere- 
 monies, Calvert took possession, naming 
 the surrounding country "Marie-land," in 
 honor of " our glorious ladye, the queene ;'^ 
 and in gratitude for their success thus far, 
 they named the river St. Mary. 
 
 But the good Cecil, in the wise provision 
 for the wants of his people had not forgotten 
 
308 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 the rightful lords of the soil, the Indian abo- 
 rigines. " Entreat them kindly always, I con- 
 jure you, endeavor assiduously to cultivate 
 their friendship, and above all take no land 
 from them but what ye might pay therefor." 
 Such were the mild and benevolent instruc- 
 tions of the proprietor, and faithfully were 
 they carried into execution by his brother, 
 the governor. 
 
 Anxious, therefore, to secure his settlement 
 on a firm basis, and to obtain an acknow- 
 ledged title to the soil, Calvert submitted 
 to a neighboring chief, his propositions to 
 purchase land of him, but received an answer 
 of sullen indifference, " I will neither bid you 
 go nor ask you to stay." Such was the ad- 
 dress and courtesy of the governor, however, 
 and the just and pacific policy of his people, 
 that not only was the stoic warrior won over 
 to their interests, but he also exerted his in- 
 fluence with the neighboring tribes, on behalf 
 of the new comers. 
 
 Through his aid a council of the neighbor- 
 ing Indians was soon convened. The gover- 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 309 
 
 nor appeared in pomp, and addressed them, 
 calling them brothers, and asking for a piece 
 of ground, that he and his people might plant 
 corn, and the red man and the pale face would 
 live together in peace and unity. He de- 
 scribed to them, in their own exaggerated 
 rhetoric, the power of the King of England, 
 and his master, the Lord of Baltimore, and 
 told them the kind messages he had sent to 
 his forest children. 
 
 The Indians replied in the language of 
 kindness and conciliation. "The white man 
 should have land — room enough for both 
 people — plenty room — White chief very good 
 to send word to the Indians." The governor 
 and chief then embraced each other, and the 
 pipe of peace was passed round the circle, 
 each one gravely taking a few whiffs. A treaty 
 was then made, giving to the settlers a con- 
 siderable tract of land, within which was the 
 Indian town of Taocomoco. 
 
 To this town they gave the name of St. 
 Mary's, in honor of the Virgin, and the first 
 building erected was a chapel dedicated to 
 
310 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 
 
 her worship. The Indians looked upon the 
 colonists with surprise, they mingled freely 
 with them, and had many curious and amus- 
 ing questions to ask concerning every thing 
 they saw, and which was all new to them. 
 
 One morning a party ol them wandered 
 into the church, and gazed with bewildered 
 air upon the pictures and crucifixes with 
 which it was decorated. Shortly after this, 
 one of their number being on a visit to the 
 governor, he presented him with a rosary, 
 having a small crucifix attached ; the happy 
 fellow received it with a yell of delight, and 
 ran off to his comrades, whirling up his prize, 
 and they immediately commenced kneeling 
 and crossing themselves in the same manner 
 they had observed the worshippers do in the 
 chapel. 
 
 It is something refreshing and ennobling, 
 amid the dark and sickening catalogue of bi- 
 gotry, slaughter, and desolating wars which 
 disgraced the history of too many of our 
 states, to look back on one green spot, where 
 fellow men were not spurned and despised 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MARl S 311 
 
 on account of their creed, and where the poor 
 Indian was treated with kindness. 
 
 Many of the tribes in the vicinity, attracted 
 by curiosity, and the good name given to 
 these new people, came to the settlement, 
 and their chiefs were entertained with a 
 sumptuous feast on board a ship, which lay 
 anchored in the river, the King of Patuxent 
 being seated at the table between the Gover- 
 nor of Maryland, and the Governor of Virginia, 
 who was also present on a friendly mission. 
 
 When the storehouse was finished, and it 
 became necessary to unload the ships, the 
 governor, in order to gratify his Indian friends, 
 and make a proper impression on all who 
 were inclined to be enemies, directed it to be 
 done with all due solemnity. The colors were 
 displayed, and the colonists clad in military 
 costume, paraded under arms, to the strains 
 of martial music, the sound of which so de- 
 lighted the Indians, that they clapped their 
 hands in glee, and struck off in one of their 
 national festive dances. 
 
 Volleys of musketry were fired on shore, 
 
312 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and answered by disoharges of cannon on 
 board the ship, which terrified the Indians 
 so highly, that they fled some distance into 
 the woods ; but finding no harm done, they 
 returned greatly impressed with the power of 
 the people who could bring '' the big thunder" 
 to their aid. Some of the sachems from a 
 distance, being present at this exhibition, 
 took occasion to warn the Indians of Taoco- 
 moco, (or St. Mary's, as it was now called,) 
 to keep the league they had made with the 
 English. 
 
 The old King of Patuxent in particular 
 showed undecided partiality for the "good 
 men," as he called them. He remained in 
 town several days, during which he was 
 treated with becoming attention, and when 
 about to leave, made use of this remarkable 
 expression, to the governor: "I love the En- 
 glish so well, that if they should go about to 
 kill me, I would command the people not to 
 avenge my death ; for I know they would do 
 QO such a thing, except it were through my 
 own fault." 
 
THE KING OF PATUXEXT. 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 315 
 
 At length the ship sailed, leaving the colo- 
 nists 'alone with their red brethren. Before 
 he left, however, the captain called the In- 
 dians together, and told them he was going, 
 and they must be kind to the people he left 
 behind, and he would tell his great lord how 
 good they were. 
 
 The Indians seemed much affected when 
 he told them he was going, and pressed around 
 to take a fai^well. They accompanied him 
 to the boat, and brought some of their forest 
 furs, and bows, and ornamented pipes, which 
 they begged him to give "to great white 
 chief, and tell him how much his Indian 
 children love him — thank him very much, 
 for the good people he send to live among In- 
 dians, — we love him much, and we love his 
 people. We be all English.'-' 
 
 No community could now be happier than 
 the little colony on the St. Mary's. It seemed 
 as if the golden age was realized, when all 
 men should dwell together in peace and unity. 
 The English and the Indians lived together 
 in St. Mary's, each occupying half the town 
 
316 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 CECIL CALVERT. 
 
 according to a stipulation between them, and 
 the utmost harmony prevailed. 
 
 Once a party of them visiting the gover- 
 nor's, they were shown a portrait of the pro- 
 prietor, Cecil Calvert, the second Lord Balti- 
 more, which they regarded in silence for some 
 time, and then exclaimed, " great father, good 
 father — He love us much — we love him," and 
 eagerly inquired if he would ever come over 
 and see them. 
 
 Frequently they would enter the chapel 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 3] 7 
 
 when the coDgregation was at worship, and 
 would look with respectful attention on the 
 ceremonies. The worthy pastor of the colo- 
 nists, early took a great interest in the wel- 
 fare of the Indians. He delighted to see them 
 in the chapel, and would tell them to come 
 often. A class of native children was soon 
 formed to learn the catechism, and some few 
 of the adults were won over to the catholic 
 faith, and were received into the church by 
 baptism, with becoming ceremony. The good 
 priest was very kind to his Indian charge ; he 
 would enter their wigwams and talk to them, 
 and give them little pictures of the saints, 
 and small rosaries, which they stuck up in 
 conspicuous places and highly esteemed. 
 
 In this way he won their gratitude and af- 
 fection, until he came to be regarded by 
 them with dutiful awe and reverence, and re- 
 ceived the title of father, the same which the 
 whites gave him. They would say, "big 
 chief grfiat man — Father also great, he be 
 good — talk kind to Indian — Indian sick — he 
 give him good medicine make him well. Fa- 
 
 27* 
 
318 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 ther great medicine-man, him big doctor beat 
 Indian medicine-man." 
 
 The natives testified their friendly dispo- 
 sition, by going every day into the woods 
 with their new neighbors, pointing out the 
 best resorts of game, joining in the chase 
 with them, and when the whites were too 
 busy to hunt, they would go alone, and bring 
 home venison and wild turkies in abundance, 
 which they would lay at the feet of the set- '' 
 tiers, and' go away well satisfied with the 
 cheap requital of knives, beads, and toys. 
 
 Observing that the whites, one day in the 
 week, use fish instead of meat, and were de- 
 sirous of obtaining a sufficient supply of it, 
 ^ they would go and fish for them, and bring 
 every Friday morning an abundance for the 
 whole settlement. 
 
 They likewise showed them the best places 
 in the river for fishing stations, and instructed 
 them in their own methods of catching the 
 various kinds of fish that inhabited the shal- 
 low waters. From these resources, the colo- 
 nists were so abundantly supplied, and the 
 
TrilE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 321 
 
 provisions they had brought with them so 
 extended, that every one enjoyed plenty 
 through the entire winter, and the times of 
 starving and desolation so common in the 
 history of other colonies were unknown in 
 the homes of the peaceful Marylanders. 
 
 Altogether, the settlers and the aborigines 
 were so thoroughly mixed in friendship and 
 intercourse, that they seemed as one people 
 in thought and feeling, differing only in the 
 distinctions which nature herself had imposed. 
 The Indians were allowed freely to enter the 
 dwellings of the whites, at any time they 
 chose, the doors never being fastened against 
 them. They would frequently come and eat 
 with them, and sleep under their roofs, and 
 many of the whites would pay similar visits 
 to the lodges at the other end of the town. 
 
 Their women also instructed the wives of 
 the colonists in making bread of maize, which 
 soon became a staple article of diet, and the 
 cultivation of corn was extensively entered 
 into. As a certain mark of entire confidence 
 of the Indians, their women and children be- 
 
322 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 came in a great measure domesticated in the 
 the English families, and were treated in 
 every respect on a perfect equality with the 
 whites. 
 
 During the cold weather, when the men 
 were in a great measure unemployed, the na- 
 tives instructed them in the various ways of 
 pursuing game, the snares laid for them, and 
 the best method of approaching the unsus- 
 j)ecting prey. One very singular mode of 
 gaining on the deer, in which they initiated 
 the whites, until they became by practice 
 almost as expert as themselves, deserves par- 
 ticular mention: An Indian hunter and a 
 party of whites, go into the woods together, 
 and presently discover a deer in the dis- 
 tance, feeding, and warily watching for danger, 
 the whites, as directed, would hide themselves 
 behind a rock, and the Indian, putting on 
 the skin of a deer, to which the head and 
 horns were left attached, would creep along, 
 in a circuitous direction, towards the deer, 
 mimicking to perfection the gait and ap- 
 pearance of that animal. Cautiously advanc- 
 
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 CO 
 
 a 
 
 o 
 
 H 
 I— I 
 
 o 
 
 a 
 
 SI 
 
 03 
 
 O 
 
 •«1 
 
 CQ 
 
 > 
 
 I 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 325 
 
 ing, pretending all the time to be feeding, he 
 would approach the animal, until he had ex- 
 cited its attention, when it would raise its 
 head and look curiously at him, when he was 
 within a few feet of it, he would partially 
 disengage himself from his covering, and 
 drawing out his bow and arrow, with which 
 he was previously provided, would take de- 
 liberate and fatal aim, and speedily bring the 
 noble beast to the ground. 
 
 In the following spring, the natives from a 
 distance assembled to carry on a trade with 
 the strangers, which was conducted to the 
 mutual advantage of both parties. The arti- 
 cles exchanged were deer skins, and the furs 
 of smaller animals, on the one side, and strips 
 of cloth, tools, and various trinkets on the 
 other, and by these means a considerable 
 quantity of peltries was collected. 
 
 Shortly after this, to the joy of all parties, 
 a ship arrived with stores and reinforcements 
 from England, and having on board a no less 
 distinguished personage than the noble Lord of 
 Baltimore. He was welcomed with an enthusi- 
 
 28 
 
826 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 astic delight, and the highest honors their 
 little state could bestow. 
 
 N'or were the Indians less pleased to hear 
 of his arrival. The representations of the go- 
 vernor, and the amiable conduct of his people, 
 had so favorably impressed them that they 
 were willing to reverence him before they had 
 seen him. 
 
 The next day a large party desired an in- 
 terview with his lordship, and he was pleased 
 to gratify them. They had brought with 
 them many tokens of good feeling and respect, 
 which they deposited before him. Some 
 brought a whole deer, others a package of 
 dried fish, wampum belts, tobacco, and such 
 other things as valuing themselves they 
 thought would be pleasing to him. They pre- 
 sented their offerings with such genuine ex- 
 pressions of .gratitude and devoted attach- 
 ment that the good Calvert was highly moved 
 at his reception by these rude foresters. 
 
 One of the chiefs then made a speech to 
 him, in which he expressed on behalf of him- 
 self and companions, the great joy they felt 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 327 
 
 on being permitted to behold their great fa- 
 ther, t ey thanked him for the good message 
 he had sent them from the first, declared their 
 willingness to serve him in any manner they 
 were able. 
 
 Calvert replied in an appropriate style, of 
 which they expressed their approbation by 
 the wild geticulations of their own race ; he 
 then invited them to a grand entertainment, 
 prepared for them in the garden, at which he 
 presided, with the chiefs on his right hand, 
 and completely won their hearts by his dig- 
 nified bearing, his sweetness of manners, and 
 the interest he appeared to take in his guests. 
 After the feast was over, they performed for 
 his diversion a number of their national 
 dances. A circle was formed, and the assu- 
 rances of friendship renewed, the pipe of 
 peace was then produced, and passed around 
 from mouth to mouth, Baltimore, to their de- 
 light, indulging in a fewwhifi's; they then, 
 separated and returned to their places. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the kindly interest 
 this good nobleman displayed in the welfare 
 
328 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 of the Indians. Almost as soon as lie landed 
 he made himself active in their cause, the 
 first business he engaged in being an inquiry 
 into the treatment of the Indians. 
 
 He professed himself highly gratified, by 
 the faithful manner in which his instructions 
 had been carried out by the colonists, and 
 commended them therefor. He immediately 
 renewed and extended, all the rights and pri- 
 vileges originally retained by them, and de- 
 creed that all offences committed against 
 them should be punished exactly as aggres- 
 sions against the whites. He visited them 
 in their wigwams, distributing a large quan- 
 tity of valuable presents he had brought with 
 him for the purpose. 
 
 He endeavored to make himself acquainted 
 with their internal arrangements, and to ob- 
 serve their manners and customs, he went 
 with them into the woods, to witness their 
 mode of hunting and fishing, which they were 
 proud to display before him, and in token of 
 the esteem his conduct had won from them, 
 they bestowed upon him the endearing title 
 
THE INDIANS OF ST. MART's. 329 
 
 of '' our own chief." With the assistance of 
 the good padre, the proprietor perfected many 
 plans for ameliorating the condition of his 
 Indian subjects, for their moral and intellec- 
 tual culture, a school was at once opened, and 
 thither resorted a number of children of the 
 surrounding tribes. 
 
 One day a great chieftain from beyond the 
 mountains, in the most western part of the 
 colony, repaired to St. Mary's, to make his 
 obeisance to the proprietor, the fame of whose 
 'merits and condescension had reached his 
 ears. He heard with wonderment, the many 
 strange stories told him by his friends, who 
 lived among the whites, and approached the 
 palace of the governor with superstitious awe. 
 
 By command of Baltimore he was received 
 with as much show and parade as they could 
 assume, and it seemed t- have had its intended 
 effect upon him ; every hing in the place at- 
 tracted his attention, an ) called forth expres- 
 sions of delight. Seeing the fondness he 
 evinced for bright things, the governor pre- 
 sented him with a shining pewter dish, which 
 
 28* 
 
330 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 he suspended around his neck and seemed to 
 regard it as a peculiar mark of honor and 
 distinction. 
 
 More settlers continued to arrive, and under 
 the fostering care of Lord Baltimore, aided 
 by the friendship of the Indians, the new co- 
 lony in a short time became exceedingly 
 flourishing and prosperous. 
 
 Wot very long after the arrival of Baltimore, 
 the good priest, whom the Indians loved, con- 
 tracted a fatal disease, while visiting them, 
 and in a short time died, deeply lamented by 
 both his white and red friends. To testify 
 their respect for him, they attended his fune- 
 ral in a body, and looked on with a tearful eye, 
 while the remains of their friend were lowered 
 in the grave. When the funeral service was 
 over, one of them stepped forth, and in an 
 appropriate speech, signified to the governor 
 their sincere sorrow and condolence in the 
 loss which both parties had sustained. 
 
 They then retired to their lodges, where a 
 solemn fast and lamentation for the dead was 
 held, the squaws beating their breasts and 
 
THE INDIANS OP ST. MARY's. 
 
 331 
 
 tearing their hair in a frantic manner, while 
 the men sat around in solemn and dignified 
 silence. 
 
 Thus happily were the seeds of the future 
 commonwealth of Maryland planted; thus 
 kindly and considerately were the natives 
 treated; and nobly did they repay it, in the 
 peace, good-feeling, and fellowship they long 
 entertained for the settlers. 
 
BED JACKET. 
 
 I HE famous Red Jacket 
 was a chief of the Se- 
 necas. His Indian 
 name, Sagouatha, or, 
 one who keeps awake, 
 was affixed to many 
 of the important trea- 
 ties concluded between 
 
 the Senecas and the white people, and he 
 
 (332) 
 
RED JACKET. 333 
 
 became renowned among both races for his 
 wisdom and eloquence. Without the advan- 
 tages of illustrious descent, and with no ex- 
 traordinary military talents, Eed Jacket rose 
 to a high position in the esteem of the red 
 men. In the year 1805, a council was held 
 at Buffalo, New York, at which many of the 
 Seneca chiefs and warriors were present. At 
 this council, Eed Jacket made a speech, in 
 answer to a missionary from Massachusetts, 
 which in force and eloquence was worthy of 
 the great orators of antiquity. The follow- 
 ing is the most remarkable portion of this 
 great effort : 
 
 '^ Friend and Brother : It was the will of 
 the Great Spirit tha^fc we should meet together 
 this day. He orders all things, and he has 
 given us a fine day for our council. He has 
 taken his garment from before the sun, and 
 caused it to shine with brightness upon us ; 
 our eyes are opened, that we see clearly ; our 
 ears are unstopped, that we have been able 
 to hear distinctly the words that you have 
 
834 -STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 spoken; for all tliese favors we thank the 
 Great Spirit, and him only. 
 
 " Brother, this council-fire was kindled by 
 you ; it was at your request that we came to- 
 gether at this time ; we have listened with 
 attention to what you have said ; you request 
 us to speak our minds freely ; this gives us 
 great joy, for we now consider that we stand 
 upright before you, and can speak what we 
 think ; all have heard your voice, and all 
 speak to you as one man; our minds are 
 agreed. 
 
 " Brother, you say you want an answer to 
 your talk before you leave this place. It is 
 right you should have one, as you are a great 
 distance from home, and we do not wish to 
 detain you ; but we will first look back a little, 
 and tell you what our fathers have told us, 
 and what we have heard from the white people. 
 
 "Brother, listen to what I say. There was 
 a time when our forefathers owned this great 
 island. Their seats extended from the rising 
 to the setting sun. The Great Spirit had 
 made it for the use of Indians. He had 
 
EED JACKET. 335 
 
 created the buffalo, the deer, and other ani- 
 mals for food. He made the bear, and the 
 beaver, and their skins served us for clothing. 
 He had scattered them over the country, and 
 taught us how to take them. He had caused 
 the earth to produce corn for bread. All this 
 he had done for his red children because he 
 loved them. If we had any disputes about 
 hunting-grounds, they were generally settled 
 without the shedding of much blood : but an 
 evil day came upon us: your forefathers 
 crossed the great waters, and landed on this 
 island. Their numbers 'were small ; they 
 found friends, and not enemies ; they told us 
 they had fled from their own country for fear 
 of wicked men, and come here to enjoy their 
 religion. They asked for a small seat; we 
 took pity on them, granted their request, and 
 they sat down amongst us; we gave them 
 corn and meat ; they gave us poison in return. 
 The white people had now found our country, 
 tidings were carried back, and more came 
 amongst us ; yet we did not fear them, we 
 took them to be friends ; they called us bro- 
 
336 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 thers; we believed them, and gave them a 
 larger seat. At length their numbers had 
 greatly increased ; they wanted more land ; 
 they wanted our country. Our eyes were 
 opened, and our minds became uneasy. Wars 
 took place ; Indians were hired to fight against 
 Indians, and many of our people were de- 
 stroyed. They also brought strong liquors 
 among us : itvwas strong and powerful, and 
 has slain thousands." 
 
 The effect of this speech was such that the 
 missionaries who had called the council, were 
 forced to give up aH attempts at making con- 
 verts among the Senecas. Eed Jacket took 
 l^art with the Americans in the war of 1812, 
 and on all occasions displayed a cool and de- 
 liberate bravery, which contrasted well with 
 the rashness of Tecumseh and other great 
 chiefs. He became attached to some of the 
 American ofiBicers, and after the war regretted 
 much to part with them. 
 
 Like Tecumseh, Red Jacket made a skilful 
 use of superstition to obtain an influence over 
 his tribe. Having, in some way, lost the con- 
 
COUNCIL OF INDIANS. 
 
RED JACKET. 339 
 
 fidence of his red brethren, he prevailed upon 
 his brother to announce himself a prophet, 
 commissioned by the Great Spirit to restore 
 his countrymen to their lost land and power. 
 By skilful reasoning, Ked Jacket persuaded 
 the superstitious Indians to believe in his 
 brother's infallibility. Good resulted from 
 this deception. The Onondagas were at that 
 period the most drunken and profligate of the 
 Iroquois. They were now persuaded to abstain 
 from ardent spirits, became sober and indus- 
 trious, and observed and obeyed the laws of 
 morality. But the imposture was at length 
 exposed by the extremes into which it led 
 many of the red men. Many were denounced 
 as possessed by evil spirits, and would have 
 been burned by the superstitious, if the whites 
 had not interfered. 
 
 In a council of Indians held at Buffalo creek, 
 Red Jacket was denounced as the author of 
 these troubles^ ancj brought to trial; but his 
 eloquence saved his life and greatly increased 
 his fame. In a speech of three hours' length, 
 he completely overthrew the accusations of 
 
840 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 his enemies, and was triumpliantly acquitted. 
 This was one of the most remarkable displays 
 of eloquence to be found in history. 
 
 Many anecdotes are related of Ked Jacket, 
 which illustrated his qualities of head and 
 heart. When at Washington he visited the 
 rotunda of the capitol, and was shown the 
 panel which represented the first landing of 
 tlie pilgrims at Plymouth, with an Indian 
 chief presenting them with an ear of corn, in 
 token of welcome. Red Jacket said, " That 
 was good ; he knew they came from the Great 
 Spirit, and was willing to share the soil with 
 his brothers." But when he turned to view 
 another panel, representing Penn's Treaty, he 
 said, ''Ah! all's gone now!" These few 
 words expressed a deal of truth and a feeling 
 of regret. 
 
 When Lafayette was at Buffalo, in 1825, 
 among those who called upon him was Red 
 Jacket, who resided near that town, and by 
 years and intemperance had been much worn 
 down. He remembered Lafayette, having 
 seen him at an Indian council held at Fort 
 
RED JACKET. 341 
 
 Schuyler, 1784. He asked the general if he 
 recollected that meeting. The general replied 
 that he had not forgotten it, and asked Eed 
 Jacket if he knew what had become of the 
 young chief, who, in that council, opposed 
 with such eloquence the burying of the toma- 
 hawk. Eed Jacket replied, " He stands before 
 ymiV The general observed that time had 
 much changed them since that meeting. "Ah," 
 said Eed Jacket, " time has not been so severe 
 upon you as it has upon me. It has left you 
 a fresh countenance, and hair to cover your 
 head; while to me — behold!" And taking 
 a handkerchief from his head, he showed that 
 it was entirely bald. 
 
 Eed Jacket always opposed the introduc- 
 tion of missionaries among his people, and 
 with a force of reasoning, the white agents 
 could not resist. He believed that the whites 
 should first practice the virtues they preached 
 to the red men ; and he had seen too much 
 evil follow in the white man's steps to wish 
 his men to tread the same path. 
 
 Not long before his death, Eed Jacket was 
 
 29* 
 / 
 
342 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 visited by Mr. Catlin, the celebrated author 
 of a most complete work upon the Indians of 
 Korth America. He then resided near Buf- 
 falo, and was the head chief of all the remain- 
 ing Iroquois. Mr. Catlin painted his portrait, 
 and represented him as he wished, standing 
 on the Table Rock, at the Falls of Niagara ; 
 about which place he thought his spirit would 
 linger after his death. Red Jacket died in 
 1836. A handsome and appropriate monu- 
 ment was erected over his grave, by Mr. Henry 
 Placide, the comedian; and more lasting 
 monuments, in historical form, have been 
 written by distinguished authors. As an 
 orator, this gifted chief was equal to any of 
 modern times. His speeches display the 
 greatest sagacity and sublimity of ideas, with 
 the greatest force and condensation of ex- 
 pression. His gestures while speaking are 
 said to have been singularly significant ; and 
 the features of his face, particularly his pierc- 
 ing eyes, full of expression. He was in truth, 
 a " forest-born Demosthenes." 
 
MR. CATLIN. 
 
WEATHEEFORD. 
 
 EATHEEFORD was the 
 principal chief of the 
 Creeks^ during the war 
 iu which the power of 
 that nation was broken 
 and destroyed by Gene- 
 ral Jackson. In his cha- 
 racter was found that union of great virtues 
 
 (345) 
 
346 STORIES OF THE INDIANA. 
 
 and vices whicli has made up the character 
 of many celebrated men among civilized na- 
 tions. With avarice, treachery, lust, gluttony, 
 and a thirst for blood, nature gave Weather- 
 ford, genius, eloquence, and courage. Seldom 
 has an Indian appeared, more capable of 
 planning and executing great designs. His 
 judgment and eloquence secured him the re- 
 spect of the old ; his vices made him the idol 
 of the young and unprincipled. In his person, 
 he was tall, straight, and well proportioned ; 
 his eyes black, lively, and piercing ; his nose 
 aquiline and thin ; while all the features of 
 his face, harmoniously arranged, spoke an 
 active and disciplined mind. 
 
 It was Weatherford's talents and deter- 
 mined spirit which prolonged the war against 
 the whites, which began in August, 1813. 
 When the power of the Creeks had been 
 broken, and great numbers of them had fallen, 
 many of their chiefs and warriors came to 
 General Jackson, and surrendered themselves 
 prisoners. Weatherford, with a few followers, 
 boldly maintained his hostile attitude. Ge- 
 
GENERAL JACKSON. 
 
WEATHERFORD. 349 
 
 neral Jackson, to test the fidelity of those 
 chiefs who submitted, ordered them to deliver, 
 without delay, Weatherford, bound, into his 
 hands, that he might be dealt with as he de- 
 served. The warriors made known to Weather- 
 ford what was required of them. His noble 
 spirit would not submit to such degradation ; 
 and he resold ed to yield himself without 
 compulsion. 
 
 Accordingly, Weatherford proceeded to the 
 American camp, unknown, and under some 
 pretence, was admitted to the presence of the 
 commanding general. He then boldly said : 
 " I am Weatherford, the chief who commanded 
 at Fort Mimms. I desire peace for my people, 
 and have come to ask it." Jackson was sur- 
 prised that he should venture to appear in 
 his presence, and told him, for his inhuman 
 conduct at Fort Mimms, he well deserved to 
 die ; that he had ordered him to be brought 
 to the camp, bound, and had he been so 
 bound, he would have been treated as he 
 deserved. To this Weatherford replied : 
 
 " I am in your power — do with me as you 
 30 
 
350 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 please. I am a soldier. I have done the 
 white people all the harm I could. I have 
 fought them and fought them bravely. If T 
 had an army, I would yet fight ; I would con- 
 tend to the last. But I have none. My 
 people are all gone. I can only weep over 
 the misfortunes of my nation." 
 
 General Jackson was pleased with his bold- 
 ness, and told him that, though he was in 
 his power, yet he would take no advantage ; 
 that he ipight yet join the war party, and 
 contend against the Americans, if he chose, 
 but to depend upon no quarter if taken after- 
 ward ; and that unconditional submission 
 was his and his people's only safety. Wea- 
 therford rejoined in a tone as dignified as it 
 was indignant, — "You can safely address me 
 in such terms now. There was a time when 
 I could have answered you — there was a time 
 when I had a choice — I have none now. I 
 have not even a hope. I could once animate 
 my warriors to battle — but I cannot animate 
 the dead. My warriors can no longer hear 
 my voice. Their bones are at Tallahega, 
 
THE MASSACRE OF FORT MIMMS. 
 
WEATHERFORD. 353 
 
 Tallushatcliee, Emuckfaw, and Tohopeka. I 
 have not surrendered myself without thought. 
 While there was'a single chance of success, I 
 never left my post, nor supplicated peace. But 
 my people are gone, and I now ask it for my 
 nation, not for myself. I look back wdth deep 
 sorrow, and wish to avert still greater cala- 
 mities. If I had been left to contend with the 
 Georgia army, I would have raised my corn 
 on one bank of the river, and fought them on 
 the other. But your people have destroyed 
 my nation. Tou are a brave man. I rely 
 upon your generosity. You will exact no 
 terms of a conquered people, but such as they 
 should accede to. Whatever they may be, 
 it would now be madness and folly to oppose 
 them. If they are opposed, you shall find 
 me amongst the sternest enforcers of obedi- 
 ence. Those who would still hold out, can 
 be influenced only by a mean spirit of revenge. 
 To this they must not, and shall not sacrifice 
 the last remnant of their country. Tou have 
 told our nation where we might go and be 
 
 30* 
 
354 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 safe. This is good talk, and they ought to 
 listen to it. They shall listen to it." 
 
 The treaty concluded between the Creeks 
 and the whites was faithfully observed by the 
 former, and Weatherford's conduct proved, 
 that he could be a warm friend if conciliated, 
 as ^^ell as a formidable and determined foe 
 in war. Passionately fond of wealth, he ap- 
 propriated to himself a fine tract of land, im- 
 proved and settled it. To this he retired oc- 
 casionally, and relaxed from the cares of his 
 government, indulging in pleasures, censur- 
 able and often disgusting. The character of 
 this chief reminds us of some of the old Ko- 
 man heroes and politicians. The same genius, 
 activity, ambition, and love of vicious plea- 
 sures belonged to those Caesars and Antonys 
 who have received more historical encomiums 
 than is rightfully their due. 
 
PAUGUS AND Ills FAMILY. 
 
THE BATTLE OF SACO POND. 
 
 event is oftener men- 
 tioned in New England 
 story than the memor- 
 able fight between the 
 English and Indians, at 
 Saco Pond. The cruel 
 and barbarous murders 
 almost daily committed upon the inhabitants 
 
 (357) 
 
358 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 of the frontier settlements, caused tlie general 
 court of Massachusetts to offer a bounty of 
 £100 for every Indian's scalp. This reward 
 induced Captain John Lovewell to raise a 
 volunteer company, and make excursions into 
 the Indian country for scalps. He was very 
 successful and returned to Boston with scalps 
 for which he received £1000. 
 
 The Indians, however continued their de- 
 predations, and the Pequawkets, under the 
 terrible chief, Paugus, especially distinguished 
 themselves for their frequent predatory incur- 
 sions. About the middle of April, 1725, 
 Captain Lovewell, with forty-six men, marched 
 on an expedition against Paugus. The party 
 arrived near the place where they expected 
 to find the Indians, on the 7th of May ; and 
 and early the next morning, while at prayers, 
 heard a gun, supposed to be fired by one of 
 the Indians, and immediately prepared for 
 the encounter. Divesting themselves of their 
 packs, they marched forward, but in an op- 
 posite direction from where the Indians were 
 posted. 
 
THE BATTLE OF SACO POND. 359 
 
 This mistake gave Paiigus an advantage. 
 He followed the track of the English, fell in 
 with their packs, and learned their numbers. 
 Encouraged by superiority, he having eighty 
 men with him, he pursued the English, and 
 courted a contest. Lovewell, after marching 
 a considerable distance, during which time 
 he took one scalp, and was mortally wounded 
 by the last fire of the Indian who had been 
 scalped, ordered his men to return for their 
 packs. The wary Paugus expected this, and 
 lay in ambush to cut them off. When the 
 English were completely encircled, the In- 
 dians rose from the coverts, and advanced to- 
 wards them with arms presented. They ex- 
 pected the English to surrender to their supe- 
 rior force, and accordingly threw" away their 
 first fire. But Lovewell, though wounded, 
 led on his men to the attack. The Indians 
 were driven back several rods, and many 
 killed and wounded. But they soon returned 
 and attacked their white foes vigorously ; 
 killed Lovewell and eight men, and wounded 
 three others, l^he English then retreated to 
 
360 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 the shore of Saco Pond, so as to prevent their 
 being surrounded. The banks afforded a kind 
 of breastwork, behind which they maintained 
 the contest until night, when the Indians 
 drew off and they saw no more of them. Only 
 nine of the English escaped unhurt, though 
 several that were wounded lived to return to 
 Dunstable. 
 
 Paugus was killed in the course of the 
 fight by one John Chamberlain, a noted hunter. 
 It is said that they both came to the shore 
 of the pond to quench their thirst, when the 
 encounter took place, in which Paugus was 
 shot through the heart. 
 
 A son of the chief, after peace was restored, 
 came to Dunstable, to revenge his father's 
 death, by killing Chamberlain ; but not going 
 directly to him his design was suspected by 
 some one, and communicated to the intended 
 victim, who kept himself upon his guard, and 
 had a hole cut through the door of his house. 
 Through this hole, Chamberlain one morning 
 discovered an Indian, behind a pile of wood, 
 with his gun pointed toward the door. Mak- 
 
THE BATTLE OF SACO POND. 361 
 
 ing use of his advantage, he fired upon and 
 killed the son of Paugus. 
 
 In the ballad, in which the events of Love- 
 welFs fight are commemorated, we find some 
 singular details of the escape of the wounded 
 white men. Solomon Keyes, having received 
 three wounds, said he would hide himself and 
 die secretly, so that the Indians could not get 
 his scalp! As he crawled upon the shore of the 
 pond, a short distance from the battle-ground, 
 he found a canoe, into which he rolled him- 
 self, and was drifted away by the wind. To 
 his astonishment, he was cast ashore near 
 Fort Ossippee, to which he crawled, and there 
 found several of his companions, with whom 
 he returned home. The most of those who 
 escaped did not leave the battle-ground till 
 near midnight. When they arrived at the 
 fort, they expected to find refreshment, and 
 the few men they had left in reserve. But a 
 deserter had so frightened the men left in 
 the fort, that they fled in dismay towards 
 Dunstable. 
 
 ' Fifty New Hampshire volunteers afterwards 
 
 31 
 
362 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 marched to the scene of action, and buried 
 the dead. They found but three Indians, one 
 of whom was Paugus. The remainder were 
 supposed to have been taken away when they 
 retreated. The pond, on the banks of which 
 the battle was fought, has ever since received 
 the name of Love well's Pond. Some rural 
 Homer, the author of the ballad to which we 
 have alluded, thus pathetically concludes his 
 narrative : 
 
 Ah, many a wife shall rend her hair, 
 And many a child cry, " Woe is me," 
 When messengers the news shall bear, 
 Of Lovewell's dear-bought victory. 
 
 With footsteps slow shall travellers go, 
 Where Lovewell's pond shines clear and bright 
 And mark the place where those are laid, 
 Who fell in Lovewell's bloody fight. 
 
 Old men shall shake their heads, and say, 
 Sad was the hour and terrible, 
 When Lovewell, brave, 'gainst Paugus went, 
 With fifty men from Dunstable. 
 
WINGIJSTA. 
 
 INGINA was the first chief 
 known to the English settlers 
 of Virginia. The voyagers, 
 Amidas and Barlow, sent out 
 by Sir Walter Ealeigh, in the 
 summer of 1584, landed upon the island of 
 "Wokoken, adjacent to Virginia. They saw 
 
 31* (365) 
 
366 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 several of the natives, and made them presents. 
 Wingina was at this time confined in his 
 cabin, from wounds received in battle, and 
 did not see the English. He had not much 
 faith in their good intentions, and would not 
 trust them far. 
 
 Soon after the return of Amid as and Barlow 
 to England, Sir Eichard Grenville intruded 
 upon the territories of Wingina. It was he 
 who committed the first outrage upon the 
 natives, which excited their constant and 
 deadly hostility. He made one short excur- 
 sion into the country, during which, to re- 
 venge the loss of a silver cup, which had been 
 stolen by an Indian, he burned a town.. 
 Grenville left one hundred and eight men to 
 found a settlement on the island of Roanoke, 
 and appointed Ralph Lane, governor. The 
 English made several excursions into the 
 country, in hopes of discovering mines of pre- 
 cious metal, of which the Indians, to delude 
 them, spoke, and encouraged them to seek. 
 
 Wingina bore the insults and provocations 
 of the intruders, until the death of the old 
 
WINGINA. 367 
 
 chief, Ensenore, his father. Under pretence 
 of honoring his funeral, he assembled eighteen 
 hundred of his warriors, with the intent, as 
 the English say, of destroying them. The 
 English were informed of the deadly design, 
 by Skiko, the son of the chief Menatonon ; 
 and Governor Lane resolved to anticipate it. 
 Upon a given signal, his men attacked the 
 natives on the island where Wingina lived, 
 having secured the canoes to prevent their 
 escape. But five or six of the Indians were 
 killed, and the rest escaped to the woods, 
 where Lane knew it would be dangerous to 
 follow them. 
 
 This attack was the signal for the com- 
 mencement of hostilities. The English were 
 few in number, but their skill and bravery in 
 war was well known to the red men, and they 
 dreaded them, as if they had been superior 
 in number. Lane aimed at securing the per- 
 son of Wingina, and thus striking terror into 
 his people ; and accordingly watched every 
 opportunity to gain information of his where- 
 abouts. At length he ascertained that the 
 
368 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 chief had not been able to escape from the 
 island, and that with a number of his chiefs 
 and warriors, he was lurking in the forests of 
 the island which was his capital. The En- 
 glish captain taking with him about one half 
 of his men, placed them in ambush near the 
 spot which Wingina frequented daily. It was 
 the burial place of his father, and the chief, 
 with a few companions, came there to give 
 himself to weeping and mournful reflection. 
 
 The English had little consideration for the 
 place or the purpose of the chief's visit. 
 When they saw he was fairly within their 
 power, they rushed from their concealment, 
 and before the chief and his warriors could 
 recover from their surprise and attempt to 
 escape, shot them down. Lane then returned 
 to the remainder of his men. The bodies of 
 Wingina and his braves were found by his 
 people, attracted to the spot by the report of 
 the fire-arms ; and for a time, it seemed as 
 if the desire of revenge w^ould induce them to 
 follow the English and attack them. But the 
 wiser portion of them, knowing the advantage 
 
WINGINA. 369 
 
 which the English possessed in the use of 
 fire-arms, restrained them. But Lane was 
 not suffered to remain quiet in the enjoy- 
 ment of his triumph. Conspiracies were de- 
 tected in various quarters, and finally, the 
 Indians compelled the whole English party 
 to return to Europe. We cannot wonder at 
 the rooted enmity to the whites which the 
 Indians afterwards displayed. 'Not content 
 with invading and taking possession of the 
 country, the early visitors from England 
 burned the towns and murdered the natives 
 upon the slightest provocation. Early im- 
 pressions are most lasting, and what could 
 the English expect after giving the red men 
 such an idea of their character ? 
 

 A SCENE ON THE SCHUYLKILL. 
 
 HAROLD DEAN; OR, THE INDIAN'S 
 REYENGE. 
 
 HE Indian ever regards 
 the constant pursuit of 
 revenge for an injury 
 an evidence of a high 
 character. Instances 
 are many, in which 
 years have intervened 
 between a revengeful 
 resolve, and the favor- 
 able opportunity, yet no sign of relenting 
 would be found in the injured one. Such a 
 
« 
 
 HAROLD DEAN. 371 
 
 disposition is natural to those who are taught 
 to look on war as the chief business of life, 
 and mercy to foes as despicable weakness. 
 The following narrative will illustrate this 
 feature of the Indian character. 
 
 About the period of the first settlement of 
 the disciples of George Fox, on the banks of 
 the Delaware, a party of young men, of re- 
 spectable families, filled with the hopes ex- 
 cited by the glowing accounts of the new 
 country, and having a love of adventure which 
 could not be gratified in their thickly settled 
 and strictly governed native land, resolved to 
 come to America ; and putting their resolve 
 in execution* they arrived on the banks of 
 the Delaware. The reasons for their preferring 
 to visit Penn's settlement were very pardon- 
 able. Although they loved adventure, they 
 preferred to seek it where the red men were 
 least disposed to use the hatchet and scalp- 
 ing knife, and where there was the clearest 
 prospect of making a good settlement if they 
 felt so disposed. 
 
 The party consisted of six young gentlemen 
 
372 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 of the average age of twenty-two years. Their 
 names were Harold Dean, George Sanford, 
 William Murdstone, James Ballybarn, Kichard 
 Gwynne, and Morton Williams. The first was 
 a daring, quick, and restless spirit, and by 
 general consent the leader of the party. He 
 was a winning companion, but selfish, and 
 seemed to have cut loose from all moral prin- 
 cij)le. The character of the others contained 
 no extraordinary features. They were all 
 possessed of good intentions, and a consider- 
 able degree of intelligence ; but being des- 
 titute of that activity and force of will which 
 belonged to the character of Harold Dean. 
 
 The young men arrived in Penn's settle- 
 ment, as we have said, and being well pro- 
 vided wdth all the necessaries of a hunter's 
 life, resolved to build some cabins on the 
 the banks of the beautiful Schuylkill. But 
 first, Harold Dean succeeded in making the 
 acquaintance of the neighboring Indians. 
 These red men belonged to the great tribe, 
 which the English named the Delawares. 
 They, however, called themselves the Leni 
 
HAROLD DEAN. 373 
 
 Lenape. They were generally well disposed 
 towards the whites, on account of the honor- 
 able and peaceful conduct of the founder of 
 the settlement, and received the young En- 
 glishmen with every testimonial of friendship 
 and respect. The chiefs assured the young 
 men that they might build their cabins and 
 hunt without the fear of being disturbed by 
 the red men. 
 
 Accordingly, Dean selected a high bank, 
 rocky and castellated at the water's side, and 
 bare of trees for a considerable distance in- 
 land, for the site of two cabins. The labor 
 of building Jog cabins was novel to the young 
 men.' Yet, though difficult, its novelty and 
 romantic character made it pleasing. James 
 Ballybarn was. a regularly taught carpenter 
 and joiner, and his knowledge was brought 
 into use. Dean planned the cabins in the 
 simplest but most comfortable manner, 
 and all hands worked hard at cutting 
 down trees and hewing them into the proper 
 size and form. While the cabins were pre- 
 paring, the young pioneers slept in a rude 
 
 32 
 
374: STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 hut constructed of their chests and tools, and 
 covered with the boughs of small trees. 
 
 The cabins were finished, much to the gra- 
 tification of the workmen. They stood within 
 about five yards of each other; and presented 
 quite a fine appearance, amid the solitude of 
 the wilderness. Each one was occupied by 
 three young men. By the aid of a friendly 
 Delaware, two canoes were also constructed 
 in the usual Indian style by hollowing out 
 the trunks of large trees. And now the real 
 hardships of the hunter's life were to be en- 
 dured ; and though our young pioneers suc- 
 ceeded .very well for beginners^ supplying 
 themselves with food, and skins for sale, yet 
 the labor was more difficult than they had 
 expected. One or two began to compare 
 their situation with what it had been in En- 
 gland, and the result of the comparison was 
 by no means favorable to their remaining in 
 the wilderness. But Harold Dean had fallen 
 in love with the hunter's life. It offered 
 plenty of exciting occupation to his quick and 
 daring spirit ; and he forgot friends and re- 
 
HAROLD DEAN. 375 
 
 lations at home. His influence over his com- 
 panions was undisputed. He had a love of 
 being first in every thing, and never spared 
 labor to make himself such. His companions 
 submitted to his lead, and after a little argu- 
 ment, were persuaded that there was no life 
 like a hunter's. 
 
 The party had become very intimate with 
 the Indians, and Harold Dean especially was 
 a general favorite among them. He had cul- 
 tivated the friendship of a young Indian 
 hunter, named Pakanke. Pakanke was brave, 
 adventurous, and skilled in all the mysteries 
 of woodcraft. He instructed Harold Dean in 
 that art, which was to him so necessary, and 
 joined the young Englishmen in many a 
 hunting excursion. 
 
 But other attractions induced Harold to 
 seek the company of Pakanke, and frequently 
 to spend a day at his wigwam. The Indian 
 hunter had a sister, who was one of the most 
 beautiful young women of her tribe, and de- 
 cidedly the most intelligent. Her father had 
 been killed in battle, and her brother was 
 
376 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 necessarily her guardian. Many of the young 
 Delawares, foremost in war and the chase, 
 coveted the beautiful Narramattah, but she 
 had refused to share the wigwam of the 
 bravest. Harold Dean met her at the cabin 
 of her brother, and was charmed with her ap- 
 pearance and manners. His fine person and 
 winning attentions also captivated the guile- 
 less maid. Pakanke regarded the growing 
 attachment of his English friend and sister 
 with undisguised pleasure, and did all in his 
 power to increase it. 
 
 Harold's friends were now frequently de- 
 prived of his company, yet as h|^ told them 
 of the beauties of the sister of Pakanke, they 
 guessed the reason and readily excused him. 
 But was it a fact that Harold loved Narra- 
 mattah? That she loved him there could 
 not be a doubt ; she was never happier than 
 when in his presence, and she told him that 
 he had became her Manito, or idol. Harold 
 admired her — that he confessed to himself. 
 But he laughed to scorn the assertions of his 
 friends that he really loved an Indian girl 
 
HAROLD DEAN. 377 
 
 At length the precise state of his feelings was 
 divulged. Kichard Gwynne rallied him one 
 evening, after the return from the day's hunt- 
 ing, upon being captivated by a dusky forest 
 beauty. 
 
 "Pshaw!" replied Harold, with a con- 
 temptuous expression of features, " Gwynne, 
 have you no idea of whiling away the time with 
 women, apart from falling in love with them ? 
 You are completely fresh. I love an ignorant 
 savage ! I have known too many of the in- 
 telligent and enchanting girls of merry old 
 England, to be so foolish. Til beguile the 
 time with this Narramattah, but could not 
 for a moment think of loving her, or of going 
 through the Indian sanction of a marriage 
 ceremony. 
 
 So saying, Harold turned away from 
 Gwynne, and entered the cabin. But what 
 he had said had struck one ear and touched 
 one heart for which it was not intended. Pa- 
 kanke had parted from Harold a moment be- 
 fore Gwynne had spoken to him, and hearing 
 his sister's name mentioned, had checked his 
 
 32* 
 
378 STORIES- OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 pace to bear what was said of her. Eaves- 
 dropping is a vice practised by the untutored 
 children of the forest as well as by civilized 
 men, and it is sometimes pardonable. Pa- 
 kanke understood sufficient English to com- 
 prehend that Harold Dean was confessing | 
 ,that he was trifling with Narramattah's love, 
 and never intended to marry her. In an in- 
 stant, all his esteem and friendship for the 
 young Englishman had turned to the gall of 
 hatred and revenge. He at first thought of 
 seeking him at once, and demanding redress 
 for the insult offered to his family and race. 
 But reining his passion, he resolved to wait 
 a more promising opportunity. 
 
 The next day, Harold Dean and Pakanke 
 went upon the hunt together, and the Indian 
 took the earliest occasion, when they were 
 alone, to explain to the Englishman the ex- 
 tent of his sister's aifection for him, and to 
 demand that he should marry her. Harold 
 endeavored to soothe the indignant feelings 
 of the red man, and told him that he could 
 love h\p. sister, but could not marry her, as 
 
HAROLD DEAN. 379 
 
 ne fiad a wife already in England. Pakanke 
 4;old him that he was deceitful; that he was 
 a snake, whose bright colors lured simple 
 maidens near that he might sting them ; that 
 he had seemed a friend, but to be a more 
 deadly foe ; and that he should marry Narra- 
 mattah, or feel that the red man can revenge 
 an insult as he can repay a kindness. He 
 concluded in these forcible words: "Take to 
 your wigwam, pale face, the maiden you have 
 loved ; keep and take care of the wild flower 
 which you have sought and trained to await 
 your coming, or the big wind shall hurl you 
 to the earth !" 
 
 Harold evaded the demand, and finally in- 
 duced the young Indian to wait until the 
 next day, when they should see Narramattah 
 together, and then he would decide. But the 
 deceitful Englishman did not intend to see 
 the maiden, he had wronged, again. It was 
 a mere ruse to escape the Indian's vengeance 
 for a time. The next day, when Pakanke 
 came for Harold he was not to be found at 
 the cabin; and Pakanka rAturned to ISTarrn- 
 
360 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 mattah, to tell her of her wrongs, and* his 
 burning resolve to revenge them. The poor, 
 trusting forest maiden seemed as if struck 
 speechless by the information that Harold 
 had fled, after declaring that he never in- 
 tended to take her to his wigwam. The wild 
 flower was crushed by the ruthless blast; 
 and her mind, unable to withstand the shock, 
 became distracted. When Pakanke arose in 
 the morning, his sister was gone. He searched 
 eagerly every where in the neighborhood of the 
 village for her, but in vain. At length news 
 was brought him that Narramattah's mangled 
 body had been found at the foot of a high 
 precipice, near the Wissahicon creek. He 
 hurried to the spot, and found the informa- 
 tion true. The distracted girl had either 
 thrown herself from the precipice, or acci- 
 dentally fallen from it in her wanderings. 
 Pakanke paused to drop the few tears of grief 
 forced from his eyes; and then, over his 
 sister's body, bade the Great Spirit mark his 
 vow, never to rest until the murderer of his 
 sister had met the fate he deserved. The 
 
HAROLD DEAN. 381 
 
 hody^ of JSTarramattah was given to her friends 
 to be placed in the cold grave near her father ; 
 and many were the tears shed for her un- 
 happy fate, by the Delaware women. 
 
 Pakanke, alone, again sought the cabins 
 of the Englishmen, and this time, he found 
 the object of his search. Harold Dean, cal- 
 culating the exact time of Pakanke's visit on 
 the day before, had gone with his friends on 
 a hunting expedition far into the country, 
 and had returned with them to the cabins 
 just before Pakanke arrived. He calculated 
 that the Indian would be satisfied with any 
 trifling excuse invented for the occasion, and 
 did not dream that the affair had reached a 
 tragic crisis. Pakanke's appearance in the 
 cabin surprised him. The Indian was unu- 
 sually calm and collected, and betrayed no 
 sign of any but the most peaceable intentions. 
 He said he came for Harold to fulfil his pro- 
 mise to accompany him to the wigwam ; and 
 finding there could be no further evasion, 
 Harold consented to accompany him. 
 
 The two hunters left the cabins and pro- 
 
382 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 ceeded througli the woods, as Harold thought, 
 towards the Delaware village, but as Pakanke 
 knew, in a different direction. They spoke 
 occasionally, concerning hunting and the 
 game of the season; but the Indian was 
 afraid to trust himself to many words, and 
 Harold was meditating some plan of escape 
 from the proposed marriage. At length they 
 approached what seemed to be a deep ravine, 
 and Harold's eye wandered around for the 
 best place for crossing. They were nearing 
 the high, overhanging precipice, and Pakanke 
 knew it. " This is the best crossing," said 
 he to Harold, as they approached the tree- 
 covered edge of the rock from which Narra- 
 mattah had thrown herself, or fallen. "This 
 is rather a disagreeable path, I think," said 
 Harold, as he looked over to the opposite 
 bank of the creek. " It leads to thy grave !" 
 shrieked Pakanke, as, with an effort, made 
 giant strong by passion, he snatched Harold's 
 rifle, stabbed him in the back, and hurled 
 him from the rock. Then he leaned over its 
 edge to look down. The rock w^as about one 
 
HAROLD DEAN. 383 
 
 hundred feet high, and its top projected far 
 beyond its base. Harold shrieked as he was 
 thrown from the rock, but all was soon over. 
 Pakanke saw, as he leaned over the edge, 
 that his victim had been literally dashed to 
 pieces; and a smile of gratified revenge ap- 
 peared upon his lips as he turned away to 
 descend to the spot, to secure the scalp. Af- 
 ter this customary trophy from a conquered 
 foe had been obtained, Pakanke returned to 
 the Delaware village, and gladdened the ears 
 of the chiefs and warriors with the circum- 
 stances of his exploit. He then sent infor- 
 mation of it to Harold's friends, accompanied 
 with an assurance that if they were snakes 
 they would be served in the sauie way, but if 
 friends, they would not be disturbed. 
 
 The terrible death of Harold appalled the 
 young Englishmen, and they were so mis- 
 trustful of the good intentions of the red men, 
 that they unanimously resolved to quit the 
 vicinity and return to the settlenrient at once. 
 Accordingly, the most valuable of their skins 
 and all their necessary articles of clothing, 
 
384 
 
 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 and their fire-arms, were packed up, the ca- 
 bins set on fire, and they set out for the set- 
 tlement. Two of them remained in Philadel- 
 phia, the others returned to England, and 
 conveyed the news of the death of Harold 
 Dean to his parents. Tljey were not discon- 
 solate, although they wept for him. He had 
 always been a wild spirit and a bad son, and 
 his treachery to poor Narramattah was but 
 one additional item in a catalogue of such 
 deeds, which had made his fame ignoble in 
 England. 
 
 "-^ 
 
CHOCTAW WARRIORS AND WOMAN. 
 
BIENVILLE'S EXPEDITION AGAINST 
 THE CHICK AS AWS. 
 
 FTEE the destruction of the power 
 of the Natchez Indians, by the 
 French, in 1731, the remnant of 
 that nation took refuge among the 
 powerful and ferocious tribe of Chickasaw s, 
 who were the determined and uncompromis- 
 ing enemies of the colonists of Louisiana. The 
 united nations could bring a large and effi- 
 
 (387) 
 
388 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 cierit force into the field ; and besides, they 
 had five strong' palisaded forts, and many 
 fortified villages. Bienville, governor of 
 Louisiana, could only command about three 
 hundred Frenchmen at the commencement of 
 the war ; but the Choctaws were his allies, 
 and although not the best and bravest of 
 warriors, their aid was valuable. A desultory 
 warfare was carried on until early in 1736, 
 when the French government sent additional 
 troops to Bienville, and ordered him to un- 
 dertake an expedition against the Chickasaws. 
 In obedience to these instructions, Bien- 
 ville had sent word to the younger D'Arta- 
 guette, the commander of the Illinois district, 
 to collect all the French and Indian forces he 
 could control, and to meet him on the 31st of 
 March, 1736, at the Chickasaw villages. In 
 the month of January of that year, Bienville 
 drew from Natchez, Natchitoches, and the 
 Balize -all the officers and soldiers he could 
 muster, without weakening too much the gar- 
 risons stationed'at those places. He formed 
 a company of volunteers, composed of traders 
 
Bienville's expedition. 389 
 
 and transient persons then in New Orleans, 
 and another company of unmarried men be- 
 longing to the city, and which was called the 
 " company of bachelors." A depot of ammu- 
 nition, provisions, and all that was necessary 
 for the intended campaign was established 
 on the Tombigbee, at the distance of two 
 hundred and seventy miles from Mobile, where 
 the several detachments of the army were 
 sent, through the Lakes, as fast as convey- 
 ances could be procured. Several large vessels 
 containing provisions and utensils of every 
 sort were despatched down the Mississippi to 
 Mobile, and on the 4:th of March, Bienville 
 departed from New Orleans, leaving behind 
 him only four companies of regulars under 
 Noyan, which were to follow him as soon as 
 they could be transported. The boats having 
 to struggle against adverse winds, the whole 
 of the French forces did not reach Mobile be- 
 fore the 22d, and it was only on the 28th, 
 that the last of the vessels carrying provisions 
 entered the harbor, when it was discovered 
 that her cargo had been much damaged by 
 
 33* 
 
390 STORIES OF THE INDIiLNS. 
 
 the sea. On the 1st of April, the expedition 
 left Mobile, and it was only on the 23d that 
 the army reached the Tombigbee depot, after 
 having had to contend against currents, 
 freshets, storms, and constant rains. 
 
 While waiting for the arrival of the Choc- 
 taws, Bienville reviewed his troops, and found 
 them to consist of five hundred and forty-four 
 white men, excluding the officers, forty-five 
 negroes, and a body of Indians. At length 
 six hundred Choctaw warriors arrived, and 
 the army resumed its march. On the 22d 
 of May, it encamped about twenty-seven miles 
 from the Chickasaw villages. On the 23d, 
 Bienville ordered fortifications to be con- 
 structed for the protection of his boats, and 
 placed twenty men under Captain Yanderck 
 in them. The next day, the army with pro- 
 visions for twelve days, marched six miles 
 further, and encamped on account of a tem- 
 pest. On the 25th, within the space of twelve 
 miles, the army had to cross three deep ra- 
 vines running through a thick cane-brake, 
 and had to wade through water rising up to 
 
Bienville's expedition. 391 
 
 the waist. It then emerged on a beautiful 
 open prairie, on the edge of which they en- 
 camped, at the distance of six miles from the 
 Chickasaw villages. 
 
 The intention of Bienville was to turn 
 round those villages of the Chickasaws to 
 march upon the village of the Natchez, which 
 was in the rear, and to attack first those 
 whom he considered as the instigators of the 
 Chickasaw war. But the Choctaws insisted 
 wdth such pertinacity upon attacking the vil- 
 lages which were nearer, and which, they 
 said contained more provisions than that of 
 the Natchez, and they represented with such 
 warmth, that, in the needy condition in which 
 they were, it was absolutely necessary they 
 should take possession of these provisions, 
 that Bienville yielded to their importunities. 
 The prairie, in which these villages were situ- 
 ated, covered a space of about six miles. The 
 villages were small, and built in the shape of 
 a triangle, on a hillock sloping down to a 
 brook which was almost dry ; further off was 
 the main body of the Chickasaw villages, and 
 
392 STORIES OF THE INI)IANS. 
 
 the smaller ones seemed to be a sort of van- 
 guard. The Choctaws having informed Bien- 
 ville that he would find water no where else, 
 he ordered the army to file off <jlose to the 
 wood which enclosed the prairie, in order to 
 reach another hillock that was in sight. 
 There the troops halted to rest and take nou- 
 rishment. It was past twelve o'clock. 
 
 The Indian scouts whom Bienville had sent 
 in every direction to look for tidings of D^Ar- 
 taguette, whom he had expected to operate 
 his junction with him on this spot, had come 
 back and brought no information. It was 
 evident, therefore, that he could no longer 
 hope for the co-operation on which he had 
 relied, and that he had to trust only to his 
 own resources. It was impossible to wait ; 
 and immediate action was insisted upon by 
 the Choctaws and the French ofi&cers, who 
 thought that the three small villages, which 
 have been described, and which were the 
 nearest to them, were not capable of much 
 resistance. Bienville yielded to the solicita- 
 tions of his allies and of his troops, and at 
 
Bienville's expedition. 393 
 
 two in the afternoon, ordered his nephew 
 Noyan, to begin the attack, and to put him- 
 self at the head of a column composed of a 
 company of grenadiers, of detachments of fif- 
 teen men taken from each one of the eight 
 companies of the French regulars, of sixty- 
 five men of the Swiss troops, and forty-five 
 volunteers. 
 
 The French had approached within carbine 
 shot of the forts, and at that distance, could 
 plainly distinguish Englishmen, who ap- 
 peared to be very active in assisting the 
 Chickasaws in preparing their defence, and 
 who had hoisted up their flag on one of the 
 forts. Bienville recommended that they should 
 not be assailed, if they thought proper to re- 
 tire, and in order to give them time, should 
 they feel so disposed, he ordered to confine 
 the attack to the village, named Ackia, which 
 flag was the most remote from the one under 
 the English flag. 
 
 The order of the attack being given, the 
 division commanded by Noyan moved briskly 
 on, and under the protection of mantelets 
 
394 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 carried by the company of negroes, arrived 
 safely at the foot of the hill on which the vil- 
 lages stood. But there, one of the negroes 
 being killed, and another wounded, the rest 
 flung down the mantelets, and took to their 
 heels. The French pushed on, and penetrated 
 into the village, with the company of grena- 
 diers at their head. But being no longer 
 under cover, and much exposed to the fire of 
 the enemy, their losses were very heavy. The 
 noble and brilliant Chevalier de Centre Coeur, 
 a favorite in the army, was killed, and a num- 
 ber of soldiers shared his fate, or were dis- 
 abled. However, three of the principal forti- 
 fied cabins were carried by the impetuosity 
 of the French, with several smaller ones which 
 were burned. But as a pretty considerable 
 intervening space remained to be gone over, 
 to assail the chief fort and the other fortified 
 cabins, when it became necessary to complete 
 the success obtained, Noyan, who had headed 
 the column of attack, turning round, saw that 
 he had with him only the ofiicers belonging 
 to the head of the column, some grenadiers. 
 
Bienville's expedition. 395 
 
 and a dozen of volunteers. The troops had 
 been dismayed by the death of Captain De 
 Lusser, of one of the sergeants of the grena- 
 diers, and of some of the soldiers of this com- 
 pany who had fallen, when they had attempted 
 to cross the space separating the last cabin 
 taken from the next to be taken ; seeking for 
 shelter against the galling fire of the enemy, 
 they had clustered behind the cabins of which 
 they had already taken possession, and it 
 was impossible for the officers who com- 
 manded the tail of the column, to drive them 
 away, either by threats, promises, or words 
 of exhortation, from their secure position. 
 Paitting themselves at the head of a few of 
 their best soldiers, in order to encourage the 
 rest, the officers resolved to make a desperate 
 attempt to storm the fortified block-house 
 they had in front of them. But in an instant, 
 their commander, the Chevalier de Noyan, 
 D'Hauterive, the captain of the grenadiers, 
 Grondel, lieutenant of the Swiss, De Yelles, 
 Montbrun, and many other officers were dis- 
 abled. Still keeping his ground, De Noyan 
 
396 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 sent his aid-de-camp, De Juzan, to encourage 
 and bring up to him the wavering soldiers, 
 who had slunk behind the cabins. But, in 
 making this effort, this officer was killed, and 
 his death increased the panic of the troops. 
 
 Grondel, who had fallen near the walls of 
 the enemy, had been abandoned, and a party 
 of Indians was preparing to sally out to scalp 
 him, when a sergeant of grenadiers, ashamed 
 of the cowardice which had left an officer in 
 this perilous and defenceless position, took 
 with him four of his men, and rushed to the 
 rescue of Grondel, without being intimidated 
 by bullets as thick as hail. These five in- 
 trepid men reached in safety the spot whea-e 
 Grondel lay, and they were in the act of lift- 
 ing him up to carry him away, when a gene- 
 ral discharge from the fort prostrated every 
 one of them dead by the side of him they 
 had come to save. But this noble deed was 
 not lost upon the army ; the electrical stroke 
 had been given, and was responded to by the 
 flashing out of another bright spark of hero- 
 ism. A grenadier, named Kegnisse, rather 
 
Bienville's expedition. 39' 
 
 inflamed than dastardized by the fate of hi- 
 companions, dashed out of the ranks of h : s 
 company, ran headlong to the place wher 
 Grondel lay weltering in his blood, from th 
 five wounds he had received, took him on hi- 
 athletic shoulders, and carried him away i? 
 triumph, amid the general acclamations an f 
 enthusiastic bravos of those who witnessc t 
 the feat. To the astonishment of all, he ha ' 
 the good luck to pass unscathed through tl -^ 
 fire which was poured upon him by the en - 
 my, but the inanimate body of Grondel whi( ' 
 he was transporting received a sixth woun ■ 
 So generously saved from the Indian torn- 
 hawk, this of&cer slowly recovered, and w; -^ 
 subsequently raised to a high rank in ti 
 French army. 
 
 Noyan, seeing at last that he was exposii;;; 
 himself and his brave companions in vair, 
 and fainting from the effects of his woun<', 
 ordered a retreat from the open field, aii' 
 taking shelter in one of the cabins, sent woi , 
 to Bienville, that he had lost about seventh 
 men, and that if prompt relief was not sen; 
 
 34 
 
398 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 the detacliment would be annihilated. On 
 hearing this report, Bienville sent Beauchamp 
 with a reserve of eighty men, to support the 
 troops engaged, and to bring off the wounded 
 and dead. Beauchamp reached the spot 
 where the little band of Frenchmen was con- 
 centrated, and where the strife had been 
 hottest. Seeing that no headway could be 
 made he covered the retreat of the band, and 
 brought off to the French camp most of the 
 wounded and dead. The Choctaws, who had 
 left the French to shift for themselves, seeing 
 them retreat, wished to show their spirit, and 
 made a movement, as if to storm the village. 
 But a general discharge from the enemy, 
 killing twenty-two of their men caused them 
 to make a retrogade inovement, much to the 
 amusement of the French. The battle had 
 lasted during three hours, and when evening 
 came, the scene was as quiet as if the blast 
 of war had never scared the birds from the 
 trees or the cattle from the plain. 
 
 After the severe repulse which the French 
 had met, nothing remained but for them to 
 
Bienville's expedition. 399 
 
 retreat. Bienville saw that lie could not de- 
 pend upon the Choctaw s, and the fortifica- 
 tions of the Chickasaws were too strong to be 
 carried without cannon and mortars. On the 
 22d of May, the day following that of the 
 battle of Ackia, Bienville had litters made to 
 transport the wounded; and at one in the 
 afternoon, the army formed itself into two 
 columns, which had been the order of march- 
 ing in coming, it began its retrogade move- 
 ment. The troops were much worn out with 
 the fatigue they had undergone, and the labor 
 of transporting the baggage and wounded was 
 difficult. Slow marching disgusted the Choc- 
 taws, and one portion of them, headed by the 
 chief Eed Shoe, wished to abandon the French. 
 But the more numerous part, aided by the 
 eloquence of Bienville, succeeded in inducing 
 them to remain. 
 
 On the 29th, the French reached the place 
 where they had left their boats. They found 
 the river falling fast, and they hastened to 
 embark the same day. After a laborious 
 passage, they arrived at Tombigbee on the 
 
4:00 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 
 
 2d of June, and from thence returned to New 
 Orleans. The expedition had been well 
 planned, and vigorously executed, but unfor- 
 seen circumstances defeated it. The Chicka- 
 saws had proven much better warriors than 
 they had been thought to be, and had de- 
 fended themselves with an obstinacy as un- 
 expected as it was successful. The English 
 supported that tribe in their war with the 
 French, and they were thus enabled to main- 
 themselves against all the expeditions sent 
 against them. 
 
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