OHIO STATEWIDE FILES OH-FOOTSTEPS Mailing List *********************************************************************** USGENWEB NOTICE: These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit or presentation by other organization or persons. Persons or organizations desiring to use this material, must obtain the written consent of the contributor, or the legal representative of the submitter, and contact the listed USGenWeb archivist with proof of this consent. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Archives to store the file permanently for free access. *********************************************************************** OH-FOOTSTEPS-D Digest Volume 99 : Issue 698 Today's Topics: #1 Chapter 14 Abbott's History of Ohi ["Maggie Stewart" To: OH-FOOTSTEPS-L@rootsweb.com Message-ID: <02c101bf0af1$e2b3e620$0300a8c0@local.net> Subject: Chapter 14 Abbott's History of Ohio Content-Type: text/plain; charset="iso-8859-1" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Kay L. Mason kkmason@shianet.org HISTORY: Chapter 14 (Abbott, John S. C., 1875) Chapter XIV. Emigration and Its Results The Falls of the Ohio, where General Clarke was established, as military leader of Kentucky, are near the present City of Louisville. This is many miles south-west of the extreme western border of Ohio, opposite the State of Indiana. The British authorities, who were engaged in this terrible war- fare against the frontier settlements, were admirably situated at Detroit for these operations. Here they held all the Indian tribes, north of the Ohio River, completely in hand, to hurl them in whatever direction they pleased. General Clarke was a man of great energy of character and of con- siderable military ability. The following anecdote is worthy of record, both as illustrative of the mand and of the savages with whom he had to deal. Upon one of his expeditions a large reward had been offered by the British authortities for his capture, whether taken dead or alive. Some Indian chiefs formed a conspiracy to kill him while asleep. The plot was discovered. They were arrested and sent to the guard-house. The next day they were brought, in irons, before the Gener- al. He was engaged in business at the time, and, assuming an air of perfect indifference, paid no attention to them whatever. When his business was trans- acted, he turned to them very contemptuously, and said: "You ought to die for your treacherous attempt on my life. I had deter- mined to put you to death. But when I reflected upon the meanness of your conduct, in trying to catch a man and kill him asleep, I became convinced that you were not warriors, but old women. You are therefore too mean to be killed by a Long Knife. You have put on men's clothes, pretending to be men, when you are only women." Then turning to his orderly, he said: "Strip these people of their clothes, and dress them in women's clothes. Then send them home. As women know nothing about hunting, give them food for their journey. While they remain, let them be treated, in all respects, like squaws, as they are." He then resumed conversation with his friends in attendance, as though the proud warriors before him were too contemptible to be further noticed. The offending chiefs were greatly agitated. One of them rose, and wished to offer the pipe of peace, and to make a speech. General Clarke spurned the calumet, and would not permit him to utter a word. "The Big Knife," said he, "never treats with squaws." Several chiefs of other tribes, who chanced to be present, moved by this terrible humiliation of their brother chiefs, rose to intercede on their be- half, entreating General Clarke to pity their families, assuring him that they would deem this a disgrace which could never be wiped out. The General replied: "The Big Knife never makes war upon squaws. When we come across such In- dians as these in the woods, we shoot them, as we do wolves, to prevent their eating the deer." This mediation having failed, a consultant took place among themselves. Soon two of their young men, advancing into the middle of the floor, sat down and flung their blankets over their heads, to the astonishment of the whole assembly. Two of the more venerable chiefs then arose, and, with a pipe of peace, stood by these self-devoted victims, and offered the "lives of the young warriors as an atonement for the conduct of the chiefs of their tribe. This sacrifice," said they, "we hope will appease the Big Knife." And again they offered him the pipe of peace. General Clarke was deeply moved. In subsequently describing the event, he said: "I never before felt so powerful a gust of emotion." For a moment there was perfect silence. Anxiety to know the fate of the victims was de- picted upon every countenance. The history of the past has seldom exhibited such an act magnanimity, of self-devotion, as was thus displayed by these children of the forest. General Clarke soon recovered his self-possession, ordered the two heroic young Indians to arise. Then addressing them he said: "I rejoice to find that there are MEN in all nations. Such alone are fit to be chiefs. With such I like to treat. I recognize you henceforth as chiefs. Through you I grant peace to your tribe.: He then took them by the hand, and presented them, as chiefs, to several American, French, and Spanish officers, who were present. Then he presented them to the other Indian chiefs. All saluted them as chiefs of their tribe. There was no hesitation. Presents were interchanged, and cordiality restored. General Clarke was afterwards informed that the incident was widely talked of among the Indians. No one disputed the legitimacy of the title of these young warriors to Indian nobility. General Clarke very strenuously urged the colonial government to furnish him with an army of two thousand men, with which he felt confident he could capture Detroit, and thus, at one blow, put an end to the ravages which the Indians were perpetrating. The savages would be comparatively powerless, when deprived of the abundant ammunition with which the British government was supplying them. As soon as General Clarke heard of the disastrous battle at Blue Licks, he resolved immediately to pursue and punish the Indians in their own homes. The savages, greatly elated, had re-crossed the Ohio, and returned to their towns on the Little Miami for a general triumph. General Clarke ascended the Licking River with about five hundred men, to its entrance into the Ohio. There he formed a junction with the troops under Colonels Logan and Floyd, which created a force of about a thousand men, all well mounted. Colonel Boone accompanied this avenging army as a volunteer. The troops crossed the Ohio, in flat-bottomed boats, on the 30th of Sep- tember, 1782, and commenced their march up the Little Miami, the bosom of every man glowing with the desire for vengeance. So rapid had been the move- ment, and so skillfully had it been concealed, that the Indians had no sus- picion of the approach of their foe, until they were within a few miles of Old Chilicothe. In the utmose consternation the savages fled, men, women and children. A thousand mounted warriors were within an hour's march of them. Resistance was not for a moment to be thought of. Their only safety was in precipitate flight. Everything was abandoned. It is probably well for the reputation of the colonists that the women and children had escaped. The memory of their own burned dwellings, their comrades slain and scalped, their women and children tomahawked, their captive friends burned at slow fires, put to death by hor- rible tortures, so inflamed this colonial army that the women and children would probably been shot down like she-wolves and cubs. They deemed it a matter of duty and of humanity to punish these savages with severity which they should never forget; so to chastise them, as to put an end to their horrible atrocities. The avenging army swept the fertile valley of the Little Miami, from its mouth to its head-waters, a distance of about eighty miles, with utter des- olation. Every Indian that was seen was, like panther or bear, the object of pursuit, and the target for their bullets. Five of their towns were laid in ashed. The torch was applied to every solitary hut. Every tree bearing fruit was cut down. It was the Fall of the year. The golden corn was just ripening in their extensive fields. It had been carefully cultivated by the women and children, while the warriors were devastating the settlers' homes in Kentucky. Upon this they mainly depended for sustenance the coming Winter. There was by no means sufficient game in the forest to preserve them from starvation. This whole harvest was completely destroyed, either being trampled in the dust, or piled in heaps and burned. The savages had fled so precipitely that al- most nothing was saved from the awful wreck. Their homes, their blankets, their furs, their cooking utensils, and most of their ammunition, were des- troyed. Absolutely nothing was left to them. In utter destitution they were roaming the forets, with cold Winter approaching. Many of them must have perished of starvation. As many as were able toiled through the wilderness to Detroit, to receive from the British authorities support under the dread- ful calamities which this adherence to the British cause had brought them. The punishment of the Indians was indeed terrible. They were alike aston- ished and dismayed by it. In their ignorance they had supposed that, in the carnage of the "Blue Licks," they had destroyed nearly all the warriors which the colonists could bring into the field. They were rejoicing in the thought that they could, at their leisure, recross the Ohio, and load themselves with the booty of the desolated homes of Kentucky, and that they could bring back with them the wives and children of the white men as captives and slaves. Instead of that, they had scarcely reached their homes ere an overwhelming army of a thousand white men came sweeping their valley with fire and ruin. The tidings of this avenging campaign, in the Valley of the Little Miami, soon reached the ears of all the Indian tribes in Ohio. They were so dis- heartened that they made no further attempt for the organized invasion of Kentucky. In the year 1783, peace was made with England, and the independence of the colonies was recognized. But as the waves of the ocean do not subside until long after the gale has ceased to blow, so the agitation on the frontiers, between the settlers and the Indians, continued for many years. The intense passions which had been called into exercise by the bloody conflict were too powerful to be speedily allayed. The settlers were determined to get posses- sion of the lands of the Indians. The Indians were determined not the re- linquish their ancient hunting grounds. A wonderful tide of emigration, across the mountains, immediately set in from North Carolina, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. But none of these emigrants ventured to penetrate the heart of Ohio, which was populated by such numerous and hostile tribes. Nearly all directed their steps toward the rich and beau- tiful region south of the river. A few families settled upon the upper waters of the Ohio, near the fort at Pittsburgh. These emigrants generally crossed the mountains in long lines of wagons, driving their flocks and herds before them, till they reached the waters of either the Allegheny or Monogahela. They then took flatbottomed boats or rafts, and, borne by the currents of those streams to the Ohio River, floated down the stream for several hundred miles to points near the Licking and the Kentucky. Here they scattered south through one of the most beautiful regions of the globe, taking possession of their lands by what was called the Tomahawk Claim. The Virginia Legislature, which was then the recognized proprietor of all these regions of indefinite boundaries, allowed each settler four hundred acres of any unoccupied lands, besides the preference right to purchase, at government prices, one thousand more contiguous acres. These settlements were generally marked by the initials of the claimant's name, cut with the toma- hawk in several beech trees. These "tomahawk rights" were generally respect- ed, even though the claimant had not taken up his actual residence on the lands. If he had cut down a few trees, and erected a log hut, his claim was considered as established. The pioneers were generally satisfied with one settlement-right; but others, more ambitious of large landed estates, and of the wealth which was sure eventually to accrue from them, bought up many of these frail titles. This led, in after years, to almost endless litigation. Nearly the whole country, from the Alleghenies to these central rivers, of what was then called the District of Kentucky, for a distance of nearly five hundred miles, was an uninhabited mountain wilderness. There were, how- ever, one or two stations along the south banks of the Ohio River. So great was the immigration from the Atlantic States into these attractive fields, that by the close of the year 1784, the population of Kentucky was estimated to amount to nearly thirty thousand souls. By the Treaty of Paris, 1783, Great Britain renounced all claim to all the territory south of the Great Lakes, and east of the Mississippi to its sour- ces. The British Government also stipulated to withdraw her garrisons from all that territory. The most important stations, then held by the British, were at Niagara, at Detroit, and on the Miami and Maumee Rivers, and near the head-waters of the Wabash. This region, then called the Northwestern Terri- tory, was a vast undivided realm, almost entirely uninhabited by white men. The powerful Indian tribes, clustered through the valleys of the tributaries of the Ohio, flowing from the North, had been nearly all enlisted under the banners of Great Britain. The horrible atrocities which these savages had perpetrated had enkindled in the bosoms of the Americans, generally, undy- ing hatred. Still there was a disposition to conciliate the savages, as peace on the frontiers was essential to the prosperity of the rapidly-growing settlements there. The Federal Government consequently adopted a humane policy, and did every- thing in its power to restrain the exasperated western people from aggressions upon the Indians. Every effort was made to prevent collision, and to culti- vate friendly relations with these still formidable tribes. Indian agencies were established to confer with the chiefs upon all measures of importance. Annuities were granted, which perhaps too often assumed the form of bribes, to induce the leading men of the nation to enter into treaties, by which they relinquished large portions of their lands. These agents were required strictly to enforce the laws of Congress, pro- hibited lawless white men from residing in the Indian country, and from car- rying on contraband trade with the Indians. Trading posts were established, under governmental control, to supply them with useful articles at fair prices, and to rescue them from the impositions of fraudulent traders. A large council of the chiefs of the Ohio Indians was held at Fort McIn- tosh on the 21st of Jamuary, 1785. This fort was in the extreme western fron- tier of Pennsylvania. The Ohio tribes represented were the Wyandots, Dela- wares, Ottawas, and Chippewas. These tribes occupied the extreme northern portions of the present State of Ohio, west of the Cuyahoga River. In this treaty, the chiefs, sachems, and warriors of these tribes relinquished to the United States all the lands south of Lake Erie, and east of the Cuyahoga River, as well as all the southeastern portion of the present State of Ohio. The boundary line, which was definitely laid down, was as follows: Begin- ning at the mouth of the Cuyahoga River, on the southern shore of Lake Erie, it ran up the east bank of that stream till it reached the head-waters of the Tuscarawas. Thence it followed that stream to its junction with Walhoun- ding Creek. Then the line ran across the country a distance of about 150 miles to the mouth of the Mad River, one of the largest tributarties of the Great Miami. Thence it followed the main branch of that river to the portage across to the St. Mary's. Then it followed that river in its very circuitous course till it reached the Maumee, lands east and south of this line were ceded to the United States. On the other hand, the government recognized the title of the Indians to all the land north and west of this line, to be occupied by them as dwelling places and hunting grounds, free from encroachment from the whites. The gov- ernment also reserved the right of constructing certain roads through the Indian Territory, and the possession of six miles squares, contiguous to all its military posts on the Northwestern frontier. Though there were thus nominally peaceful relations between the United States Government and the chiefs of these tribes, still there were malcon- tents on both sides, who paid no regard to treaties. They were equally sa- vage, and their atrocities were equally fiend-like. In the month of March, 1785, a lawless band of Shawanese Indians crossed the Ohio, burned the house of a Mr. Elliott, killed him and took his scalp. In some way, members of his family escaped, carrying the tidings to other settlements, exciting great indignation and alarm. The main object of these marauding bands of Indians seems to been not so much to take scalps as for the purpose of stealing hor- ses. In parties of three or four, these gangs of savage horse-thieves, ever at home in the wilderness, would cross the Ohio, skulk in concealment around some settlement, and in the morning several of these valuable animals have disappeared, no one knew where. Not an Indian would have been see, and all traces of the direction of their flight would have been carefully concealed. Towards the close of 1786, these depredations became so frequent, that the settlements were very seriously disturbed and injured by them. The horse had become an absolute necessity in the agricultural operations and the so- cial habits of the country. But no man was safe in the possession of this property. The horses must graze in the open fields. The farmer could not guard them, gun in hand, night after night. The prowling savage, having watched his chances from his covert by the light of day, in the dead hour of darkness and sleep seized his booty, and when the morning dawned was far away beyond pursuit. It was no uncommon occurrence for a party of five or six Indians after an absence of a week or ten days, to return to their rendezvous with ten or fifteen horses. Sometimes each individual would bring in one every night, until their complement was full. These free rangers of the forest, descend- ing from the Valleys of the Great and Little Miami, the Scioto, and others of the Ohio Rivers, would penetrate Western Virginia, Pennsylvania and Ken- tucky, often extending their raids two or three hundred miles. They moved in silence and unseen, like spirits of darkness, leaving no indication of their coming or going, save in the disappearance of the horses. It is said that during the five years preceding 1791, these frontier settlements had been robbed of not less than twenty thousand horses. And these estimates were based on authentic information. To prevent, as far as possible, these depredations and to discover the trail of these thieving bands, each settlement employed scouts or rangers to be continually traveling the forest around in search for any signs of the Indians. Thus in the midst of nominal peace, the most cautious measures of war had to be adopted. Though these rangers made every possible effort to search out the trail of the marauders, yet the savages were so cautious that it was very seldom that any of their movements were discovered. It was as- certained that the most active of these plunderers came from the upper waters of the Sandusky, and of the Great and Little Miami. They infested the banks of the Ohio River, continually attacking and plundering the boats descending to different points on the Kentucky shore. Frequently whole families were massacred. It is estimated that during the years of 1783 and 1784, twelve thousand persons, mainly from Virginia and Pennsylvania, emigrated to Kentucky. The following incidents will show the perils they had to encounter, and the caution with which it was necessary to move. Colonel Thomas Marshall, a man of much distinction in those days, crossed the Alleghenies with his large family. At Pittsburgh he purchased a flat- bottomed boat, to float down the Ohio. He had passed the mouth of the Kenhawa without encountering any incident of note. One night, about ten o'clock the boat had drifted quite near the northern or Ohio bank of the stream, when he was hailed in English by a man upon the shore, who inquired who he was, and where he was bound. Upon receiving a reply he added: "I have been stationed here by my brother, Simon Girty, to warn all boats of the dangers of being decoyed ashore. My brother regrets very deeply the injury he has inflicted upon his countrymen. To convince them of the sincer- ity of his repentence, and of his earnest desire to be restored to their society, he has stationed me here to warn all boats of the snares which are spread for them by the cunning of the Indians. Renegade white men will be placed upon the banks, who will represent themselves as in the greatest dis- tress. Even children, taken captive, will be compelled, by threats of tor- ture, to declare that they are all alone upon the shore, and to entreat the boats to come and rescue them. But keep in the middle of the river, said Girty, and steel your hearts against any supplications you may hear." Colonel Marshall thanked him for his warning, and floated unmolested down the stream. This caution was by no means a needless one. There were many incidents like the following. A boat was descending the stream with an emi- grant family on board. A band of prowling Indians discovered it and following along, in concealment, through the forest, watching an opportunity for its capture. The large flat-bottomed boat, almost an ark, containing the family, their cattle and all their household goods, touched at a point of land for a supply of fuel. The Indians, in ambush, fired upon their victims, and then rushing upon them with the tomahawk, soon silenced all in death except one girl of fourteen. They took her captive, and began to ascend the stream in search of another boat. At length they saw one descending the river. They gave their captive some dreadful experience of what were horrors of the Indian torture, and then told her that they would thus torture her to death, unless she would implicitly obey their directions. They tied her feet, so that she could not plunge into the river, placed themselves in ambush, at a distance of but a few yards, and then compelled her to cry as though her heart were breaking, and to tell a piteous story, that she was descending the river in a boat, with all her family, that she had escaped in the night, and that she was almost dead of hunger and of terror lest she should be re- captured. And then, in the most heart-rending tones, she entreated them to come to her rescue. The agonizing cries of the poor child touched every heart. With much hes- itation they cautiously moved towards the shore. The moment the bows of the boat touched the beach a deadly fire was opened upon them from the ambush; the howling, leaping savages rushed with gleaming tomahawks upon their vic- tims, and the fiend-like deed of blood and death was soon accomplished. All perished. About the same time Captain James Ward was taking several horses down the river for sale. He purchased at Pittsburgh a large flat-bottomed boat, forty- five feet long and eight feet wide. His crew consisted of half a dozen men and a lad, his nephew. The gunwale of the boat was composed of a single pine plank, about two inches thick. It was a lovely season of the year, and as the boat glided gently along through enchanting scenery, everything presented an aspect of peace and loveliness. There was nothing to mar the enjoyment of the hours save the dread which man had of his brother man. Several sunny days thus passed away as the boat floated along, past mea- dows and headlands and forests, which seemed to have been created by God for blissful homes. One morning, as they had been swept by the stream within about one hundred and fifty feet of the northern shore, suddenly several hundred Indians appeared upon the bank, and uttering savage yells, opened upon them a terrible fire from their rifles. There was no protection for the horses, and soon every one was shot. Some were instantly killed; others, severly wounded, kicked and struggled so violently in death agonies, that the frail and heavily-laden boat dipped water, threatening to engulf all together. In the conflict Captain Ward's nepher, pierced by a ball in the breast, fell dead in the bottom of the boat. All the crew, except Captain Ward, were so panic-stricken by this sudden and fierce assault, that, as the only refuge from otherwise certain death, they threw themselves flat upon their faces in the bottom of the boat, among the convulsed animals, while a storm of bullets swept over them. It was in vain for six men to attempt resistance, when even a hand exposed would be a target for a hundred rifles. Fortunately there was a heavy post attached to the gunwale of the boat, which afforded Captain Ward some protection as he stood at the helm. With his oar, which he used as a rudder, he endeavored to guide the boat to the other side of the river. As the savages had no canoes, they could not attempt to board, but for more than an hour they ran along the banks of the stream, yelling, and keeping up a constant discharge of their rifles. At length the current swept the boat beyond their reach, and the wretched, with howls of rage, abandoned the pursuit and disappeared. We will relate another incident illustrative of the perils which in those days attended the navigation of the beautiful Ohio, where peace and plenty now hold their happy reign. A gentleman by the name of Rowan, with his own, and five other families, wished to emigrate to Green River, which was some distance below the Falls of the Ohio. For the long voyage they constructed two very large flat-bottomed boats; one for the families, and the other for the cattle and furniture. As these boats would have no storms to encounter, and were merely to float along upon the current of the stream, they were frail in their structure, being scarcely more than floating rafts with gun- wales three feet high. The boat which contained the families had quite a commodious cabin, or hut, in the stern, made of rough boards, which afforded entire protection from both wind and rain. Here they cooked their food, and slept. In the sunny days they had nothing to do but to float along, admiring the beautiful scen- ery, with occasional opportunities to shoot ducks upon the river, or a deer or turkeys upon the banks. A canoe was attached to the massive boat, with which they could easily fetch in their game. One can hardly imagine a voyage of hundreds of miles more delightful than was here presented. There was no sea-sickness, no danger from storms, no toil, shelter from all unpleasant exposure, and an abundant supply of food. The two boats had floated about one hundred miles, through an uninhabited region of great loveliness, when one night, about ten o'clock, their atten- tion was arrested and their fears excited by prodigious shouting and yelling of Indians farther down the river, on the northern shore. Soon as they roun- ded a bend in the stream they came in full view of the scene of carousal. It would have been very beautiful, had it not been for the terrible apprehensions which it had excited. In a grove on the river banks, beneath whose majestic trees there was no underbrush whatever, there was an encampment of several hundred Indians. Immense bonfires were blazing, and the savages were dancing around them, feasting and shouting in the celebration of some great festival. It after- wards appeared that they had seized and plundered an emigrant boat, and in their orgies, were exhulting over their victory. Mr. Rowan immediately or- dered the two boats to be lashed firmly together; and then the men strained every nerve, with their immense oars, to push the boat as far as possible over towards the Kentucky shore. The faint hope was cherished that in the darkness, and under the shadow of the cliffs, the boats might possibly glide by unseen. There were hundreds of Indians on the shore. There was a fleet of birch canoes upon the beach. The Indians were all armed with rifles, and knew well how to use them. The camp fires extended along the grove for a distance of nearly half a mile. Of the six families in the emigrant's boat, there were but seven men capable of offering any resistance to the Indians - the re- mainder were women and small children. As the boats glided noiselessly along, the Indians, all absorbed in their carousal, did not discern them till the great central fire, which threw its brilliance across the whole breadth of the river, brought them clearly to view. A simultaneous shout from hundreds of savage throats greeted this discovery. The warriors, seizing their rifles, rushed to their canoes. The situation of the emigrants seemed utterly des- parate. What could seven men do to repel an assault from several hundred savages completely surrounding them in their swift canoes. Fortunately it wa a moonless night, and very dark. In a few moments the current swept them beyond the illumination of the camp fires into a region of midnight darkness. As the boats, crowded with Indians, came rushing down upon them, the emigrants' boat could be discerned only at the distance of a few rods. The Indians are very brave when they can fight from behind a rock, tree, or stump, but they are very timid when they must present their unprotected breasts to the sure aim of the white man. They did not know but that there were fifty of these sharp-shooters in these two immense boats. They did not know but that the gunwales of the boats were bullet-proof and so port-holed that the white men in safety could take their aim. And they did know that these white men, were they more or less in number, would fight in the utmost desparation, and that the frail birch - bark canoes afforded not the slightest protection against their bullets. Mr. Rowan ordered all the men to conceal themselves behind the gunwales of the boats, and to keep perfect silence. Not a gun was to be fired until the Indian at whom it was discharged was so near that the powder would burn him. Thus every shot was to be the certain death of a warrior. The boat was still rapidly floating down the stream, when the noise of the paddles and the yells of the warriors announced the near approach of a fleet of canoes. When they arrived within about a hundred yards, and could just be discerned through the darkness, they suddenly slackened the eagerness of their pursuit. Every warrior seemed to feel that his bosom was the target for fifty rifles. They perceived at once that under the circumstances in which they were placed, that every flash of a rifle would be the death of some one of their number; that bullet holes in their canoes would sink them; that all the canoes were so filled that those warriors struggling in the water in midnight darkness, could not be taken into any of the others. It was manifest that with the rapidity with which these trained riflemen could load and fire, perhaps a hundred of their warriors might be shot before the prows of their canoes should touch the boats. And then the force of the white men might be such that all their remaining warriors might be drowned or captured. Ignorant as they were of the numerical weakness of their foes, it was indeed one of those cases in which the better part of valor was discretion. The heroic Mrs. Rowan, as she saw the canoes approaching, supposing that the savages would endeavor to board the boat, crept quietly around in the darkness, collected all the axes and placed one by the side of each man, leaving the handle against his knee. She performed this significant act in silence, speaking not a word. She then returned to the post of defense which she had selected for herself, and sat down with a sharp hatchet at her side. The Indians did not venture to approach any nearer. Still they kept up the pursuit down the river for a distance of nearly three miles, assailing the white men only with harmless yells. At length, despairing of success, they relinquished the pursuit, and returned to their orgies around their camp-fires. The boat, thus wonderfully rescued, floated on and reached its destination safely. A son of Mr. Rowan, then but ten years of age, and who afterwards became one of the most prominent citizens of Kentucky, often in after years alluded to the emotions excited in his bosom by the scenes of that terrible night. "The gloom of the night, the solemn flow of the majestic river, the dim line of the forests on either side, the gleam of the camp fires of the In- dians, around which the half-clad savages were dancing in hideous contortion; the uneartly yells in which every demoniac passion seemed contending for the mastery; the shout which was given when they discovered the boats beneath the shadows of the opposite cliffs; the pursuing of the canoes, with redoubled vehemence of hooting; the rapidity with which with brawny arms the savages paddled their boats to and fro; the breathless silence which pervaded the flat boat, while for more than an hour the occupants awaited, momentarily expecting the terrible onset; and, above all, the fortitude and heroism displayed by his mother, - all these combined to leave an impression upon the mind of the boy, which could never be obliterated." (Abbott's "Life of Daniel Boone) The treaty of peace with England was signed in September, 1783. It was, however, one or two months before the knowledge of it reached the British posts on the frontier. A very curious document has been transmitted to us, giving an account of the announcement of the fact to a large council of hostile Indians, on the Wabash, by Mr. Dalton, a government agent, and the very characteristic response of one of their chiefs, a warrior of great renown, Piankeshaw by name. Mr. Dalton said: "My children: What I have often told you has now come to pass. This day I received news from my great chief at the Falls of the Ohio. Peace is made with the enemies of America. The tomahawk is buried. The Shawanese, the Del- awares, the Chickasaws and the Cherokees, have taken the Long Knife by the hand. They have given up the captives they had taken. My children on the Wabash, open your ears, and let what I tell you sink into your hearts. You know me. Near twenty years I have been among you. The Long Knife is my na- tion; I know their hearts. Peace they carry in one hand and war in another. Consider now which you will choose. We never beg peace of our enemies. If you love your women and children, receive the belt of wampum I present you. Return to me the captives you have in your villages, and the horses you stole from my people in Kentucky. Your corn-fields were never disturbed by the Long Knife, while your warriors were killing and robbing my people." Mr. Dalton then presented the chief with a belt of blue and white wampum. There were several tribes represented on the occasion, but Piankeshaw was recognized as the head chief of the most powerful tribe. He accepted the em- blem of peace, and then, with much dignity of manner, replied: "My Great Father, the Long Knife: You have been many years among us; you have suffered by us. We still hope you will have pity and compassion upon us, on our women and children, the sun shines on us, and the good news of peace appears in our faces. This is the day of joy to the Wabash Indians. With one tongue we now speak. We accept your peace belt. "We received the tomahawk from the English. Poverty forced us to it. We were followed by other tribes. We are sorry for it. To-day we collect the scattered bones of our friends and bury them in one grve. Here is the pipe that gives us joy; smoke out of it. We have buried the tomahawk; have formed friendshiips never to be broken, and now we smoke out of your pipe. "We know that the Great Spirit was angry with us for stealing your horses and attacking your people. He has sent us so much snow and cold weather as to kill your horses with our own. We are a poor people. We hope that God will help us, and that the Long Knife will have compassion on our women and chil- dren. Your people who are with us are well. We shall collect them when they come in from hunting. We love them, and so do our young women. Some of your people mend our guns. Others tell us they can make rum out of corn. They are now the same as we. In one moon after this we will take them back to their friends in Kentucky. "My Father: This being the day of joy to the Wabash Indians, we beg a little drop of your milk, to let our warriors see that it came from your own breast. We were born and raised in the woods. We could never learn to make rum. God has made the white men masters of the world." Having finished his speech, Piankeshaw presented Mr. Dalton with three strings of wampum as the pledge of peace. Every reader must be impressed with the tone of despondency which pervades this address. It also excites melancholy emotions to observe the imploring tone with which the chief asks for rum, the greatest curse which ever afflicted his people. -------------------------------- End of OH-FOOTSTEPS-D Digest V99 Issue #698 *******************************************