Fayette County WV Archives History - Books .....Chapter III Indian Stories And Legends 1926
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Book Title: History Of Fayette County West Virginia

CHAPTER III
INDIAN STORIES AND LEGENDS

BUFFALO AND INDIAN TRAILS

  On the eve of its settlement by white men, the territory of Fayette county was
the hunting grounds of tribes of Delaware, Shawnee and Mingo Indians, whose
permanent settlements or villages were located in Pennsylvania near the
confluence of the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers, and in Ohio, on the Scioto
river. Since 1713 they had occupied the region as tenants of the Iroquois of New
York, who claimed the ownership. From the Valley of Virginia they used various
trails which later served as the earliest paths of the pioneers.

  Indian trails and buffalo traces pointed the earliest way for fur traders and
pioneer settlers across mountain barrier into the unbroken wilderness. The
country gradually became known by reports of hunters and traders who crossed
from very early times, leading their pack-horses over the old buffalo trails
across the mountains. These little westward paths over which the Indians trailed
became a path for Saxon commerce, and consequently a path for Saxon conquest,
leading to the realization of the earliest dreams of the youthful Virginians
who, while traveling over it were already planning a highway to bind the east
and the west. These trails were well known to the early settlers who often
posted scouts on them to report the approach of Indian war parties.

  An old well known Indian trail, originally a buffalo trail and later used by
settlers until 1786, passed from Kanawha up Kelley's creek, thence down Bell
creek, and down Twenty Mile creek to its mouth (now Belva), up Gauley river to a
point over a mile north of Rich creek, up which it meandered, and thence passed
over Gauley mountain, through the site of Ansted, and across the branches of
Meadow creek to the upper waters of Muddy creek, an affluent of the Greenbrier
river.

  Over this serpentine trail the earliest settlers twisted their way. It was
used for the outward trip of Lewis' army in 1774, and was followed by the Indian
invaders who attacked Donnally's Fort in 1778.

  The Gauley river route farther northeast also led to the head of the Greenbrier.

  The chief old trail of the Indians and early settlers from Lewis-burg to the
Ohio ran along the ridges at the heads of the tributaries of the Great Kanawha,
crossing Paint creek near its source. It was a mere passage way for foot travel
through the wilderness—although over much of it one could ride horseback. It was
used considerably for early travel.

  The western Indian trail around the narrows of the Great Kanawha led from the
Kanawha up Paint creek, thence via the site of Beckley, over the northeast
extension of Flat Top mountain, and across New river above the mouth of the
Bluestone.

  An early hunters' trail from the Greenbrier-New river section to Kentucky
passed up East river via Bluefield, the Bluefield-Clinch divide, and the Clinch
and Powell rivers.

LOVER'S LEAP

  About a mile and a. half southwest of Ansted, near the James river and Kanawha
Turnpike, located on a lot at the rear of the old Hawks Nest "stage stand" of
which Colonel Thomas Hamilton was the proprietor, and which is still owned by
the Hamilton heirs, is a large shelving rock which projects over a cliff, nearly
five hundred feet in height, called "Lover's Leap." A good view of Lover's Leap
may be had from the bridge across New river between the stations of Hawks Nest
and McDougal.

  With this rock is connected several very interesting traditions. If there be
literal truth in any of the legends which were supposed to have given the name
to this rock, we would prefer one of the Indian legends to any other that has
been told as one of these probably was the more likely to have occurred. The
story of the strange romance of the eloping couple from Fort Union, however, has
appealed to many. There are persons who cling respectively to each of the
legends as being literally true. We will therefore give an account of each.

THE FORT UNION ROMANCE

  Soon after the first settlement of Greenbrier county, a young couple, whose
names have been lost in the lapse of time, fled from Fort Union, which was
located at the present site of Lewisburg, to find a home where they might
consummate the height of their earthly hopes—to be united in the bonds of
matrimony—for the girl's parents who resided at the fort, would not consent to
their marriage. On account of this opposition the young couple decided to elope.

  They began their flight by taking a westward direction. They hoped to find a
settlement where they could be duly united in wedlock according to the style and
customs of frontier life.

  Upon arriving at this shelving rock they beheld the lofty precipice and were
deeply impressed with the magnificent scenery. They walked out upon the summit
of the rock and stood upon the brink of the cliff. While gazing upon the
beauties of nature surrounding them, an overpowering dizziness seized upon the
lady. She staggered forward, and before she could be rescued by the strong arm
of her lover, fell over the cliff to the rocks beneath. The young man driven to
temporary insanity by the loss of her, whom he loved dearer than life, crawled
too close to the edge in an attempt to gaze down below, lost his balance, and
like his companion toppled over and his body was dashed upon the rocks below.

  The parents of the young lady, upon learning that the couple had left the fort
and knowing of their attachment for each other, organized a party and followed
in pursuit of them. They started upon the trail which they managed to keep
without difficulty, and followed same until they came to the fatal spot where
the accidental leap was taken. This party being likewise infatuated with the
grandeur of the scene, halted upon the top of the precipice and surveyed the
valley beneath them. While thus engaged in observation it was noticed that the
limbs of a small bush which stood upon the margin of the cliff had been torn
off, also a bit of clothing was found clinging to a thorny branch of another
bush. Then a misgiving came upon the party and they feared that the objects of
their search had fallen over the edge of the precipice.

  Search was made at once by the party who went down the side and around under
the cliff. To their horror, their foreboding proved to be real, for there they
found the bruised and mangled forms of the young hunter and his betrothed, their
bodies close together, in the embrace of death.

  This strange romance, as some people say, gave this rock the name of "Lover's
Leap."

LEGEND OF THE PALEFACE AND INDIAN MAIDEN

  A band of West Virginia Indians had been out on the warpath for several weeks.
They returned to camp but with only one captive, a young white man about twenty
years of age.

  The Chief's daughter was the first to greet the returning warriors. She
immediately fell in love with the handsome young paleface and begged her father
to spare his life. But the old Chief would not listen to the pleas of the Indian
maiden and decreed that the prisoner should be burned at the stake! at daybreak
the next morning.

  That night all the Indians, as was their custom when they were successful in
warfare, drank freely of "fire-water" and became very much intoxicated. During
their drunken celebration the prisoner was able to make his escape. The next
morning every thing was made ready for the execution, but when the prisoner's
escape was discovered, the Chief at once suspected his daughter and declared
that she should be burned at the stake prepared for the paleface.

  The Indian maiden overhearing the plan of the angry Chief managed to slip
away. She roamed the woods all day and the following night. On the following
morning, at the break of day, she espied a column of smoke which she approached
and there found the fugitive paleface. The Indian girl having a slight knowledge
of English was able with the use of certain signs to make the young man
understand the cause of her flight. Strange as it may seem, the youth had fallen
in love with the charming Indian maiden, so after a few brief words of
understanding, they planned to flee together and be married as soon as they
reached a white settlement.

  Thus they continued their flight, hiding during the day and traveling by
night. The next morning they were alarmed at the sound of warwhoops which the
maiden recognized as the same made by the warriors of her father's tribe. Being
closely pursued they hastened along and tried in various ways to elude their
pursuers, but the Indians understood all their tricks and kept steadily on their
trail.

  For two days the fugitives kept at a safe distance ahead of their followers.
On the morning of the third day, being weakened by want of food, the young
couple had stopped near the edge of a cliff which overlooks New river. While
they were resting there the Indians were gradually closing in upon them.
Suddenly the heads of many warriors were seen above the bushes, and with a rush
and a whoop they formed a semi-circle around the upper edge of the rock thus
making escape impossible. The Chief stepped forward to take the captives. His
hand had almost touched the maiden's shoulder when, with a quick movement, she
eluded his grasp and rushed to the very edge of the great overhanging rock. The
youth dashed toward her, but ere he reached the spot, with a scream she gave a
leap out into space and plunged headlong downward. The Indian Chief then made an
effort to grab the youth, but he quickly followed the Indian maiden, leaping
over the high precipice. Thus ends the tragic romance which, some people claim,
gave this rock the name of "Lover's Leap."

THE OLD INDIAN LEGEND OF LOVER'S LEAP

  Not far from the edge of the town of Ansted there is found evidence of an old
flint quarry at the outcrop of the Kanawha Black Flint stratum, and here it was
that a tribe of Shawnee Indians made their camp. The Chief of this tribe had
only one daughter, a very beautiful Indian maiden.

  Now the Chief of this tribe wished to form a league, or federation, with a
neighboring tribe. In order to cement a sort of union between the two tribes,
the Chief of the Shawnee tribe arranged with the Chief of the neighboring tribe
for the betrothal of the Indian maiden.

  According to the Indian custom, the wishes of the maiden had not been
consulted, but after the arrangements had been made, her father, the Chief,
commanded her to marry the tribal Chief whom he had chosen.

  The Indian maiden was frank in telling her father that she did not love the
one whom he had chosen for her husband, and she further made confession that all
her affection and love was for a young warrior of her own tribe, who was
handsome, fearless and brave, and she boldly stated that she would never marry
the Chief of the neighboring tribe because her affections and her life were
pledged to the noble young warrior.

  The confession of course only made her father more determined to carry out his
own plans and desires. So he sternly ordered the maiden to obey his command.
However, the sternness of the Chief's decree did not alter the determination of
the maiden, and she stubbornly and indignantly refused to obey her father's
command.

  The Chief became very angry and ordered the maiden to go to her tepee and
remain there under vigilant guard of his trusted braves until she was ready to
consent to his wishes. He informed her, however, that whether she consented or
not, she must marry the young Chief whom he had selected for her husband.

  The Indian maiden was much grieved over what seemed to be her unhappy lot, and
determined if possible to find a way to avoid the undesirable union which her
father had planned.

  She lay on a deer skin in her tepee unable to sleep. The braves, who were on
guard thinking that she was asleep and had perhaps consented at last to her
father's demand, were not as vigilant as they should have been.

  Just a short while before daylight, when a favorable opportunity presented
itself, she managed to creep out under the folds of her tepee and escaped the
watching braves without being detected.

  Hastily she made her wav to the wigwam of her betrothed warrior and after a
hurried consultation, they decided to flee from the hunting grounds of their
kindred and seek another home where they could live for and with each other as
their hearts directed.

  Without further delay they cautiously made their way out of the camp and
started to follow the trail along the mountain ridge westward.

  It was not long until the fugitives discovered that they were being pursued by
the Chief and his warriors who were hot on their trail. Changing their course
they tried to evade their pursuers, but all in vain. After a time they happened
to arrive at the picturesque but fatal spot on the summit of a precipice and
found that they were hemmed in on every side by the warriors of their tribe.
Realizing the results of being captured and not desiring to be separated in
life, they bravely resolved to die together Affectionately embracing each other
they made the fatal plunge, leaping over the precipice, their bodies landing
upon the rugged rocks at the base of the cliff.

  This Indian romance, as most people say, gave the rock the name of "Lover's
Leap," which name it has since borne, and no doubt will continue to be known by
this name as long as time shall endure.

ONE OF DAVID MORGAN'S INDIAN FIGHTS

  In March 1779, a canoe was discovered floating down the river on which were
stains of blood and bullet holes through its sides. This led the settlers to
suspect that Indians were lurking around, and they in all haste repaired to the
fort. Among those that took refuge in the fort was David Morgan and family. Mr.
Morgan was at that time nearly sixty years old.

  About the first of April, being unwell himself, he sent his two youngest
children, Stephen, a boy of sixteen, and Sarah a girl of fourteen, to the farm,
which was on the opposite side of the river about a mile distant, to feed the
cattle and to do other chores. Unknown to their father, who supposed they would
return immediately, they took their dinner, intending to remain; all day
clearing land, for melons, and to feed the cattle before returnig [sic] in the
evening.

  Accordingly, Stephen set to work, his sister helping him in various ways, and
occasionally going to the house to wet some linen that was bleaching. While the
children were in the house eating their dinner they heard a suspicious noise
outside; on going to see what produced it they heard what appeared to be
footsteps running away, but failed to see any one. When their lunch was over
they went prattling to their work, unconscious of the danger lurking so near,
which nothing but the intervention of High Heaven could avert. The savages saw
the way the children went to their work, and made a reconnaissance of the place,
and found the youths were there alone, and knowing their intended victims were
at hand when wanted, they entered the house, and found a plentiful supply of
bacon, stale bread and a churn of sour milk that had been left in their haste to
get to the fort at the first alarm, of which they ate an enormous quantity. When
satisfied they took a portion of the bread and bacon, and each tied up a bundle
of clothing and other articles found about the house that suited their fancy,
then started for the children, laying their bundles beside the path to be taken
up again after they had disposed of the children. But upon ascending a slight
eminence that hid the view of the children from the house they discovered Morgan
with his gun.

MORGAN'S DREAM

  David Morgan being ill, as before stated, fell asleep and dreamed he saw
Stephen and Sarah running around the fort yard scalped. Not being superstitious,
he gave it no thought, but again falling asleep, dreamed the same a second time.
On awakening he inquired about the children, and being told of their
determination to stay all day, his anxiety became very great. Seizing his rifle
he hastened to the farm, fearing he would find the realization of his dream.

  But upon ascending an eminence that overlooked the field he saw, to his great
joy, his children alive and busily talking while at their work. Seeing nothing
that indicated danger, he seated himself on a log to rest, and picked his flint
and examined it to see if his gun was in order for use, then walked directly to
the children, in plain view of the house for three or four hundred yards,
unobserved by the Indians. While conversing with the children, and at the same
time scanning the woodlands and fields, he saw the two Indians approaching from
the direction of the house, and at the same instant they discovered him. They
immediately halted, and patted their hands on their mouths uttering a
bow-wow-wow-sound, and making other gestures in derision of the children.
Morgan, not wishing to suddenly alarm the children, carelessly remarked,
"Stephen, there are two Indians; you and your sister run to the fort and I will
fight them." He crossed the fence and covered himself behind it. The Indians
took refuge behind the trees.

  Morgan delayed the action to afford the children time to escape. Each party
hastily matured their plans for the attack and defense, and to Morgan, at least,
moments lengthened into painful delay. He was aware of the odds against him—not
a shot could be wasted, and he determined not to fire until he had decoyed the
Indians into open ground. He selected the route to run and the trees which he
would hide behind. He allowed the Indians to gain on him until they crossed the
fence, but the savages were on the alert. They separated as far as possible each
time they moved toward Morgan, who saw he would soon have one on each side of
him. They were now near enough to commence effective work, and necessity
demanded that he should dispose of one. During these movements he had taken a
sapling too small to protect him, and from this he selected a large oak. and ran
to it in a way that allowed the large Indian to reach the small tree he had just
abandoned at the same time he reached the large oak. He taking it, the Indian
was compelled to take the small one. It being too small to protect him, he threw
himself down flat on the ground beside a log, peeping from one side and exposing
the point of his shoulder at which Morgan aimed and fired, the ball ranging
through his body to his hip. The Indian threw himself on his back, stabbed
himself twice to the heart, and expired partly by his own hand. When examined
after the encounter, two bullets were found in his mouth placed there for
convenience in re-loading.

  As soon as Morgan fired he looked around for the small Indian and discovered
him taking deliberate aim at him. Morgan ran in a zig-zag course, looking back
over his shoulder at the Indian as often as circumstances would permit. He
accidentally ran against a small dogwood bush which yielded to his weight, then
sprang back, throwing him out of the course of the ball the instant the Indian
fired. Each, now had an empty gun, but the Indian was still armed with a
tomahawk and scalping knife.

  Each now advanced on the other—Morgan with his gun raised to strike, and the
savage waiving his tomahawk. Morgan closed on the savage. Mho to avoid a stroke
of the gun, threw his tomahawk at Morgan's head, who warded off the blow with
his gun. This cut off a finger of his left hand and nearly severed two others,
and cut a deep gash in his gun barrel. Morgan still advanced, the savage slowly
retreating. The Indian seized a dry pole and struck at Morgan, but Morgan now
dealt him a blow on the head with such force that the savage fell to the ground,
and the gun was broken off at the breech. Before he could repeat the blow with
the barrel, the Indian sprang to his feet and closing with Morgan attempted to
gouge his eyes, but instead, ran the thumb of his right hand into Morgan's
mouth, who clinched it and held fast until the affray was over.

THE FIGHT FOR LIFE

  Now commenced a desperate struggle—Morgan repeatedly threw the Indian but was
unable to hold him down. So round and round, up and down, over logs, against
trees, and saplings the fierce encounter for life went on. Finally Morgan found
his strength failing, and knew the Indian would ultimately overpower him in the
struggle. So he affected to give up, but really to await developments while he
had strength to act when the emergency presented itself.

  The Indian now without difficulty confined Morgan's elbows under his knees on
the ground, one hand being fast between Morgan's teeth. With the other hand he
attempted to draw his knife, but fortunately for Morgan, the savage while in the
house had seen a woman's apron and pleased with its bright colors had taken and
tied it around his waist above the knife, thus hindering him from getting it
quickly, and he had great difficulty in getting it out from the raw hide
scabbard which fit it very tightly. He could not draw it out directly, but
worked it out with his thumb and finger until the handle passed quite through
his hand. Morgan saw that was the opportune moment, and quickly jerked his arm
from under the Indian's knee and grinding his teeth on the thumb to disconcert
him instantly seized the handle while the savage held firmly to the blade. He
drew it through his hand cutting it to the bone. The savage now saw his
condition had greatly changed, made an attempt to get away, but Morgan seized
him round the neck and the Indian raised him to his feet. The savage seemed
greatly surprised and alarmed and exclaimed "Wooh," and struggled violently to
free himself from Morgan, who said, "I'll wooh you now," and thrust the knife
into his side, cut, and turned and twisted, and worked it in so far that he
could not draw it out. Finally the Indian's nerve gave way and Morgan let him
fall, and took a few steps and sat down. He took the Indian's gun to load and
while pouring the powder into his hand some powder fell on his cut fingers, and
the smarting caused him, for the first time to be aware of his loss.

THE RETREAT OF THE CHILDREN

  When the children started for the fort, Stephen greatly outran his sister, and
when he gained a hundred yards, or so, would wait until she could catch up, then
scamper off again, until he ran to the top of the hill overlooking the river. He
ran down the very steep hill and upon reaching the river, undressed and swam
over, believing his father had been killed. He went to an abandoned house and
finding an old leather hunting shirt, wrapped it over him and went crying to the
fort. His sister coming to the river and not seeing Stephen hid herself in a
hollow tree. In a short time her father came past on his way to the fort, but he
was so covered with blood that she did not recognize him, supposing him to be an
Indian. He, however, espied her and called her to him and they crossed the river
to the fort.

  When he related the story of his adventures to the occupants of the fort,
great excitement seized the men, and they went to the scene of the encounter
expecting to find more savages than the two Morgan had killed. On arriving at
the spot where the desperate struggle had been, the wounded Indian was not to be
seen; but trailing him by the blood which flowed freely from his side, they
found him concealed in the branches of a fallen tree. He had taken the knife
from his body, bound up the wound with the apron, and on their approach accosted
them with the familiar salutation "How do brudder. how do brudded." But alas,
poor fellow, their brotherhood extended no farther than to the gratification of
a vengeful feeling. He was tomahawked, scalped; and as if this would not fill
the measure of their vindictive spirits both he and his companion were flayed,
their skins dressed and converted into saddle seats, shot pouches and belts.

ROMANCE OF TABLE ROCK

  It was a beautiful warm day in early spring and just the time for a hike
through the hills when my grandfather, who was a great lover of nature,
suggested that I go with him for a tramp through the mountains, and of course. I
was delighted with the idea. How we enjoyed the trip as we rambled along and
viewed the wonderful works of nature. It seemed to fill ns with gladness and
pride to observe the beauties of outdoor life spread out all around us in the
vicinity of our own little town of Montgomery.

  After we had climbed along for about an hour, we were somewhat tired and
grandfather suggested that we rest for a while, so I sank down upon the soft
earth while grandfather sat upon an old stump close by. Near us was a large flat
rock and upon it was a curious looking dark stain. I idly remarked about it, and
wondered if some animal of the forest had been slain there and left its blood to
stain the rock. It was then that grandfather began to tell of the romantic
legend connected with this stone which he said was called "Table Rock," because
of its smooth surface. Instantly I forgot my weariness and listened with
breathless interest to the beautiful legend, for it had never occurred to me
that anything so romantic could be connected with our own neighboring hills.

  "Long, long ago," began grandfather, "when this region was inhabited only by
Indians, right here in these very hills lived a war like tribe called the
'Wampums.' Although these Indians were cruel and bloodthirsty, they believed in
undying loyalty to the tribe even if it meant death to any one of them. If any
one of their number were found to be guilty of treason to his tribe, he was
tortured to death in some unspeakable manner.

  "Their Chief was a fierce looking warrior by the name of Red Eagle. This
relentless Indian had an only daughter named Starlight. He had a great love for
this little maiden, who had found a warm place in his heart, and though stern as
he was, no one could marvel at his deep affection for his daughter because of
the gentle nature of the Indian girl.

  "Starlight was a great lover of nature, and she was of a kind and gentle
disposition. She seemed to be the only light of the tribe because of her gentle
loving ways. But often her heart was made sad when she witnessed the cruel
practices of her father's tribe, and would often plead for mercy for the
unfortunate victims.

  "There came a time when there was trouble with another tribe of Indians
dwelling some distance away. Her people began at once to prepare for war, and
she looked on with sinking heart, for well she knew that it would mean the death
of many of the Indians on both sides, but the little maiden was powerless to
prevent it.

  "After many weeks of terrible warfare, it happened that the Indian girl was
alone one day in the forest when she was startled by a noise. Looking through
the trees, she beheld a sight that filled her with terror. Coming toward her
were the warriors of her father's tribe, and with them a captive, a young Indian
lad of about sixteen years. He could hardly walk and was cruelly struck with a
weapon if he hesitated for a moment. As he passed the Indian maiden he gave her
a long appealing look. She managed to smile and a new light of hope dawned on
his handsome face. He was taken to the camp where it was decided that he was to
be slowly tortured to death the next morning.

  "Starlight begged the Chief to spare the lad's life, but he was relentless and
would not yield. Seeing that it was of no avail to plead for mercy, she
determined to free the captive even though it might mean punishment for her.
Later in the evening when everything had become quiet and the whole camp was
wrapped in slumber, she softly crept to the wigwam where the captive lay. After
loosening the bonds which held him secure, she guided him to the edge of the
camp and bade him flee from danger. The lad expressed his gratitude and then
took his departure into the still dark night.

  "Early the next morning the Chief was enraged when he learned of the captive's
escape and a sentence of death was placed upon the head of the one who had
helped him gain his freedom. Little did he dream that his own beloved daughter
was the guilty one. As this offense was considered an act of treason the
sentence of death was approved by all the members of the tribe and was to be
carried into execution as soon as the guilty one was discovered.

  "By some means the guilt of little Starlight was proven and no mercy was shown
her for the proud stern chief could not break his word, and the brave little
Indian maiden was put to death the next morning at sunrise here on this rock
before you. The blood stains can still be seen. It stands as a monument to the
noble girl who sacrificed her life to save another."

RECAPTURE OF THE BROWN GIRLS FROM THE INDIANS

  The early settlers of Fayette county underwent many hardships and had many
desperate struggles with Indians who passed through the county in quest of
anything they could find.

  In the year 1791 a family by the name of Brown lived on Coal river between
what is now Clear creek and the mouth of "White Oak, in what was then Montgomery
county but later became a part of Fayette county and is now in Raleigh county.

  One morning in April of the above mentioned year, two of the Brown girls were
out a short distance from their home milking the cows when they were surprised
and captured by the Indians who carried them away as prisoners.

  The girls were soon missed by the family and Mr. Brown quickly organized a
rescue party of settlers and was soon on the trail of the Indians. They followed
them up Coal river, passed what is now Clear creek, and continued up the river
to the mouth of Sand Lick and followed the trail across the mountain to the
present site of Sweeneyburg, and from there they followed the trail down Paint
creek.

  In crossing a little ridge just below the Jarrel Humphrey place, now Weirwood,
just opposite the Weirwood tipple, they found where the Indians had just killed
a deer, taking only the hind quarters of the deer away with them. The rescue
party continued to follow the trail until about dusk when they overtook the
Indians at the present site of Pax, where they had gone into camp under the
cliff near where a Mr. O 'Neal now lives. They had built a fire and were
broiling the venison for their supper. Mr. Brown and his men not thinking it
best to make an immediate attack, waited in ambush until the Indians were
asleep. The Indians had left one warrior to guard the girls while the others
went to sleep under the cliff.

  After waiting a short time the rescue party fired their guns at the sleeping
Indians, killing two of them. The others were so frightened that they ran away
into the woods, leaving the two girls, besides several horses which they had
stolen from settlers on their way.

  Having thus rescued the girls, they stood guard all night, but it happened
that they were not attacked by the Indians. The next clay they proceeded back to
their homes, and thus the two girls were restored to their parents and friends.

VANBIBBER'S LEAP

  Just below the Falls of Kanawha, there is a lofty and overhanging rock of
immense size, which to this day, goes by the name of "VanBibber's Rock." The
incident which gave it this name is one of the wildest and most exciting to be
found in the record of colonial adventure.

  This rock juts out about a hundred feet over the seething whirlpool at the
foot of the falls. The immediate surroundings are wild and picturesque in the
extreme, though the opposite shore is comparatively level, being covered with
pastures, meadows and timber, and having a gently shelving beach of sand sloping
gradually out in the waters which have a disturbed and riotous character for
many rods below.

  Reuben VanBibber, an enterprising backwoodsman from the eastern part of
Virginia, was the first to build a cabin upon this inviting bank of Kanawha
river, in the latter part of the eighteenth century. Having had much experience,
and being of a bold and independent nature, he lost no time in bringing his
young wife and two children to the new home he had provided for them.
Notwithstanding that the region about swarmed with Indians, he was unmolested
for a year or more. The land was so fertile that it was not long before a little
settlement sprung up, which, with VanBibber at its head, presented quite a
village-like appearance, the settlers building their cabins near together as a
mutual protection against the Indians.

  A small government supply station was also established, a few miles further
down the stream, which added greatly to the general sense of security and
repose.   The wild and rocky region which included the opposite bank, continued
to be occupied by roving bands of Indians, who if not actually hostile, often
cast glances of sullen discontent and jealousy upon the fairer portion of their
ancient heritage, which industry and enterprise of the palefaced intruders were
swiftly causing to bloom like the rose.

  Captain VanBibber was the heart and soul of the little settlement. His renown
as a hunter was only equalled by his reputation for fair dealings and
patriotism, and from the first he was looked upon by his neighbors as their
natural leader.

  The only other member of his household, besides his wife and children, was a
great pet bear called "Brownie," which he had captured when only a cub, and so
thoroughly tamed that it was accustomed to follow him unmuzzled among the cabins
like a dog, apparently with no inclination to rejoin its kind among the
neighboring hills. Indeed, the brute displayed an exceptional affection for him
and his family. The officers and soldiers from the fort often came to witness
its tricks and pranks, so that "VanBibber and his bear," was the expression most
generally used by outsiders when alluding to our hero and his pet.

  It was at this critical period in colonial history that two brothers of
VanBibber had crossed into Pennsylvania to join Washington at Valley Forge. His
oldest son, hardly more than a boy, had followed them, first obtaining his
parent's solemn consent. Many times VanBibber himself felt an almost
uncontrollable impulse to hasten to the assistance of the dwindling army at
Valley Forge, but his wife and small children were here in this lonely valley
with the roving Indians all about and the duty to them seemed more imperative.

  The British were already overrunning the country with predatory bands of
Indians who penetrated even into this widerness [sic] in search of horses and
cattle, and not infrequently burning houses and cruelly treating the inmates
whose relatives or friends were in the continental army. Two or three settlers
in the neighborhood had been caught carrying supplies to Washington for which
they had been cruelly put to death, and there were rumors that VanBibber himself
was marked for early punishment. This, however. did not prevent Captain
VanBibber from setting out upon a lonely hunting expedition, one April day, at
which time the adventure befell him that was to give his name to the famous rock
which until then had been known by its Indian name, "War-kun-gee-tah,"
signifying "the far away look out."

  A great freshet had so flushed the Falls of Kanawha that VanBibber did not try
to cross the river at the point directly below the rapids which lies just
between the location of the settlement and the great rock. He passed down the
stream for a mile or more to a lonely cabin, occupied by a settler named
Radcliffe, where he borrowed a canoe and crossed the river.

  He had capital sport that day and shot a number of deer and wild turkeys which
he had secreted to await a conveyance to his home when the subsiding waters
would enable him to make another trip on horseback for that purpose. It was
toward the middle of the afternoon when he started to return home from which he
then found himself about eight miles distant. Up to this time he had not
encountered a single Indian or even any signs of their being in the vicinity.

  But VanBibber had no sooner quitted the belt of timber in which he had been
hunting, and began to make his way across the broad rolling and somewhat broken
plateau that lay between him and the precipitous river bank, when a shot from a
concealed Indian whistled through his squirrel-skin hunting cap. He quickly
dropped to the ground as three shots followed the first in quick succession.
Peeping from his covert, he saw a score of Indians cautiously but rapidly
approaching from different points in the forest. They had him almost surrounded
with nothing to do but run for his life. Bringing down the foremost Indian by a
well directed shot, VanBibber suddenly sprang to his feet and sped over the open
plain, escaping the numerous shots that were sent after him, as if by a miracle,
with the entire band of Indians yelling in bloodthirsty pursuit.

  VanBibber was a famous runner, however, and was under no apprehension of being
overtaken by his enemies, swift of foot as they undoubtedly were. He had long
been noted as the strongest, fleetest, and most formidable hunter of the Kanawha
valley, and nobly did he vindicate his reputation on that eventful day. He not
only acquitted himself so creditably as to keep beyond the range of the poor
rifles with which his pursuers were armed, but was also enabled to load and fire
as he ran, thus causing several of the savages to bite the dust before they
finally drove him to bay, out upon the farthermost point of War-kun-gee-tah, the
great jutting rock overlooking the terrible whirlpool at the foot of the falls,
with his humble but inviting home on the opposite bank. Though unable to
overtake their fugitive sooner, the Indians had succeeded in baffling all his
attempts to reach the river at the point where he had crossed in the morning.
They had managed to control the direction of his flight so as to bring him at
last to a final, and apparently hopeless stand, upon the very edge of this rock,
with no choice left him but to surrender or meet death at their hands, or to
make an equally fatal plunge into the whirlpool just below. But even in this
desperate condition, he sheltered himself behind a small group of rocks and
bushes, loading and firing his trusted rifle with wonderful rapidity. Thus he
succeeded in keeping the enemy at bay for more than a quarter of an hour, in
full view of his wife and friends on the opposite bank of the river.

  The Indians though not venturing out upon the open shelf within range of his
accurate marksmanship, clustered along the sides, and even crept down far below
the very face of the cliff, yelling in the certainty of his speedy capture or
death. Captain VanBibber suddenly stopped firing, and for the first time the
feeling of despair must have come over him, for he had used the last bullet in
his pouch and was no longer capable of making defense. The enemy soon suspected
as much and began to swarm over the top of the rock in full view yelling with
revengeful cries. But at this instant, when he was about to give himself up for
lost, an encouraging cry came floating through the air to him from the direction
of the water below. It was a woman's voice—that of his wife—and it had been
distinctly heard above the roaring of the water. "I 'm coming under the rock
with the canoe," she cried, "Leap, and I will rescue you." He turned and looked
in the direction from which the summons had come, dazed and bewildered—for such
a leap had never been made nor even contemplated before.

  While the struggle had been in progress between VanBibber and the Indians, his
wife, having laid her baby on the grassy bank, secured a canoe and with paddle
in hand was preparing to rush to the rescue of her husband, in spite of the
neighbors who looked upon the bold hunter as already doomed and regarded her
attempt to cross the river just below the falls as simple madness. As she pushed
off, "Brownie" the pet bear, climbed into the stern of the canoe and sat upright
upon his haunches keeping his balance perfectly throughout the entire trip. As
Mrs. VanBibber succeeded in reaching the center of the stream directly under the
ledge of rock the savages were almost upon her husband. In answer to her cry he
shouted, "Wife, drop down a little lower, I 'm coming." As the Indians were just
ready to close upon him, with their tomahawks upraised, he sprang from the crag
and descended like a plummet into the water, feet foremost. He was under the
water only a moment, but it was an awful one, it seemed an age to his wife.
Would her husband ever rise? Her earnest gaze seemed to penetrate the very
depths of the water, and then with a joyous; thankful cry, she darted the canoe
further down the stream. Her husband rose to the surface quite near her, and was
able to scramble into the little craft without assistance, amid the showers of
bullets that was poured after him by the baffled pursuers, not one however
harmed either himself or his wfe. [sic]

  VanBibber seized the paddle from his wife's hands and swung the canoe around,
turning Brownie's back to the hostile Indians, and paddled swiftly out of range
of the shots that were still showered after them. But it was more than likely
that poor Brownie had much to do with the immunity with which the man and his
wife were permitted to draw out of range. At any rate, when VanBibber and his
wife reached the shore and were assisted to land by their rejoicing friends.
Brownie remained seated motionless in the stern of the canoe, with his eyes
closed and his tongue hanging out. The bear was found to be stark dead. His back
was fairly riddled with bullets, more than one of which would inevitably have
reached the human occupants of the canoe, but for the chance bulwark that had
been presented by Brownie's tough and shaggy frame.

  Captain VanBibber experienced such a shock from his terrific leap that it was
many days before he fully recovered. But he and his wife lived to a great old
age, with the families of their children around them, in the same fertile
valley, and within the very shadow of the great overhanging shelf which has ever
since borne the name of "VanBibber's Rock" which it received in commemoration of
VanBibber's leap.

  "We are indebted to John P. Hale's "History of the Great Kanawha Valley" for
the account of the "Escape of Mrs. Mary Ingles from the Indians" which is
presented here in abridged form.

ESCAPE OF MRS. MARY INGLES FROM THE INDIANS

  The Ingles and Draper families, who were Scotch-Irish, had come by way of
Pennsylvania and were the first settlers on New river west of the great
Allegheny divide. The settlement was made in 1748 and was known as "Draper's
Meadows."

  In 1750 "William Ingles and Mary Draper were married at Draper's Meadows, the
first white wedding west of the Alleghenies. Their rose-colored hopes and
anticipations of the future, and their youthful dreams of happiness were not all
to be realized, as will soon appear.

  Mary Draper had spent much of her time in her girlhood days with her only
brother in his outdoor avocations and sports. They played together, walked
together, rode together. She could jump a fence or ditch as readily as he; she
could stand and jump straight up nearly as high as her head; could stand on the
ground, beside her horse, and leap into the saddle unaided; or could stand on
the floor and jump over a chair-back. It will soon be seen how invaluable to her
such physical training was a few years later. In the long after-years she used
to delight in telling over to her grandchildren of her feats of agility in her
youthful days.

  In 1754, John Draper, finding it not good to be alone, persuaded Miss Bettie
Robertson to join him in the search for happiness in this wild wilderness home.

  Notwithstanding the isolation of the Draper's Meadows settlement, and its
remoteness from civilization and society, the settlers were reasonably happy,
prosperous and contented. They were busy clearing out and improving their lands,
adding to their herds of stock, building houses, and increasing their comforts.
Others, influenced by their favorable reports were coming in and settling near
them, and they were laying, as they hoped and believed, the foundation of a
growing and prosperous community.

  Several times parties of Indians from north of the Ohio, had passed and
repassed this settlement to make raids upon the Catawbas, their enemies, living
farther south; but they had made no attack upon the white settlers, nor given
them any annoyance or cause for alarm. The friendliest relations had existed
between, the whites and redskins' up to this time, but this happy condition of
things was not to last long; indeed, the Indians may have already meditated or
determined upon mischief, but disguised their designs by a show of friendship
until they had made full observations and matured their plans.

  On Sunday, July 8, 1755, when all was peace, and there was no suspicion of
harm or danger, a party of Shawnees from beyond the Ohio, fell upon the Draper's
Meadows and killed, wounded or captured nearly every person at the settlement.
Mrs. William Ingles and Mrs. John Draper were among the prisoners taken. Mrs.
John Draper, being out of doors, a short distance from the house, first
discovered the enemy approaching. She ran into the house to give the alarm and
to get her sleeping infant. Taking the child in her arms she ran out on the
opposite side of the house and tried to make her escape. The Indians discovered
her, however, and fired on her as she ran, breaking her right arm, and causing
the child to fall. She hastily picked the child up again with her left hand and
continued her flight. But she was soon overtaken and made a prisoner, and the
child brained against the end of one of the house logs.

  Having everything in their power after the massacre and capture, the Indians
secured all the guns and ammunition on the premises, all the horses, and such
household articles as they could carry away. After loading up their stolen
plunder, and putting the women and children on the horses ready for moving, they
set fire to the buildings which consumed everything left.

  Terrible as were these experiences generally, they were especially painful and
trying to Mrs. Ingles, who was nearly approaching a period of maternity. Neither
this, in her case, nor a shattered arm in the ease of Mrs. Draper, were allowed
to stand in the way of their making the trip. They were permitted to ride the
horses, carrying the children, and make themselves as comfortable as the
circumstances allowed, but go they must, whatever the pain and suffering to
them. It was very fortunate for each that the other was along, and their
companionship was not only a comfort and a solace to each other in their trying
situations, but they rendered most important services to each other as nurses,
as occasion required. On the night of the third day out, the course of nature,
which waits not upon conveniences nor surroundings, was fulfilled, and Mrs.
Ingles, far from human habitation, in the wide forest, unbounded by walls, with
only the bosom of mother earth for a couch, and covered by green trees and the
blue canopy of heaven, with a curtain of black darkness around her, gave birth
to an infant daughter. Ordinarily, such an occurrence would have been equivalent
to a death warrant to the mother and child, for if they had not both died, under
the stress of circumstances, the Indians would have tomahawked them, to avoid
the trouble and the necessary delay of their journey; but Mrs. Ingles was an
extraordinary woman, and equal to any emergency. Owing to her perfect physical
constitution, health and training, she seems to have passed through her trouble
with almost as little suffering and loss of time as one of the wild Indian
squaws themselves. She was next morning able to travel, and did resume the
journey, carrying the little stranger in her arms on horseback. One probable
reason why Mrs. Ingles and infant were not tomahawked was that the Indians
counted upon getting a handsome sum for the ransom of herself and children. It
was not tender humanity, but cold business calculation that prevailed with the
Indians.

  The general course of retreat of the Indians with prisoners and spoils of the
Draper's Meadows massacre was down New river. It is presumed that the Indians
knew and traveled the ridge roads and creek routes for much of the distance,
where the river route was impracticable for pack-horses. About forty miles down
the party crossed from the east to the west side of the river at the mouth of
Indian creek and continued down the river on the west side to the mouth of
Bluestone river, here they left New river going up Bluestone a short distance,
thence crossing over Flat Top mountain, and probably following very much the
route of the present Giles, Raleigh and Fayette turnpike to about the head of
Paint creek, and thence down Paint creek to Kanawha river. At a point a short
distance below the mouth of Paint creek they again crossed over to the northeast
side of Kanawha river, and upon reaching the salt spring just above the mouth of
Campbell's creek, they stopped, rested, and feasted themselves on the abundance
of fat game they killed, as it came to the "Licks" for salt.

  While the Indians hunted, rested and feasted themselves at the salt spring,
they put the prisoners to boiling brine and making a supply of salt to take with
them to their homes beyond the Ohio. Mrs. Ingles took part in this salt making,
boiling salt water in some of her own pots and kettles, that had been brought
along on the pack-horses, and she, together with the other prisoners, were
undoubtedly the first white persons who ever made salt, not only in this valley,
but anywhere else west of the Alleghenies. After several days of resting,
feasting, and salt-making, the party again loaded up their pack-horses and
resumed their onward march down the Kanawha and down the Ohio to the capital
town of the Shawnees, at the mouth of the Scioto river, which they reached just
one month after leaving the scene of the massacre and capture at Draper's Meadows.

  It was a great comfort to Mrs. Ingles, amidst all the distressing
circumstances with which she was surrounded, that her children were left in her
own charge, and that she could, in some degree, care for them and promote their
comfort. This, however, proved of but short duration. It was but a few days
until there was a meeting of the Indians to divide out the spoils. The prisoners
were all separated, as was the custom and allotted to different owners, and were
not again allowed to see or communicate with each other. It was an agonizing
experience to Mrs. Ingles to have her young and helpless children, excepting of
course the infant, torn from her and from each other, but the Indians and the
fates had so decreed, and she had to submit with what grace she could.

  Some time after this, a party of Indians and Frenchmen was made up to go to
the "Big Bone lick" to make salt. Mrs. Ingles and some other prisoners, among
them a Dutch woman, but none of her party or acquaintances, was taken along.
This Big Bone lick is about 150 miles below Scioto, and about three and a half
miles by the creek, from the Ohio river, on Big Bone creek, in what is now Boone
county, Kentucky.

  While at the Big Bone lick, Mrs. Ingles, to escape the ills she suffered, and
to fly from others, threatened or feared, formed the desperate resolve to make
her escape, and if possible find her way home. A more hopeless undertaking,
apparently, she could not have conceived, but her condition was so distressing
that even death was preferable, and she determined that, come what would, she
would make the attempt. She confided her secret to the elderly Dutch woman who
was the only other white female in the camp. She at first discouraged the
scheme, and tried to dissuade Mrs. Ingles from throwing her life away on so mad
and desperate a venture. Mrs. Ingles was not to be shaken in her resolution, but
the Dutch woman, dreading to be left alone with the savages in the wilderness,
and dreaming with freshly stimulated hope, of the comforts and joys of home,
listened with more and more favor to the earnest appeals of Mrs. Ingles, and
finally was completely won over to the desperate scheme, and determined to her.
They had been in the habit of going out daily from camp at the lick, ostensibly
to hunt wild grapes, walnuts, hickory nuts, etc., which they would take back and
distribute among the Indians, but the more important matter to them was to
discuss the ways and means of escape. When the Dutch woman gave in her adhesion
to the scheme, they stood not upon the order of their going, but prepared to
start at once. There was little preparation for the women to make for they could
make but little without exciting suspicion. They had each secreted a blanket for
the trip, but took no clothes except what they wore, which were scanty enough.
They each started with a tomahawk. Mrs. Ingles had been tried as few women are,
but now the supreme moment of her life was upon her. To try to escape, she had
determined; but what was to be done with her child? She well knew that if she
attempted to take it with her, its cries would betray them both to recapture and
death. And, even if she should possibly escape recapture, she knew too well what
she would have to encounter and endure to suppose, for a moment, that it was
possible to carry the infant and succeed in her effort. Clearly there was but
one thing to do under the circumstances, and that was to abandon the unhappy
little sufferer to its hard fate. Who can conceive of the agony of a young
mother compelled to decide such a question, and to act, with such alternatives
before her? But Mrs. Ingles was a woman of no ordinary nerve. She did decide and
act, and who will say that she did not decide wisely? Certainly, in the light of
subsequent events, her decision and action were wise and fortunate. She nestled
the dear little babe as cosily as she could in a little bark cradle, and gave it
her last parting kisses and baptism of tears, tore herself away, and was gone,
never to see it again in this world, and knowing, or having every reason to
believe, that it would be murdered as soon as it was known that she was gone.

  There were hundreds of miles before these fugitive women in their daring,
desperate, and apparently hopeless undertaking. They must travel through a
wilderness where the savage, Indians and wild animals would alike seek their
blood. Pursuit, exposure, privation, and possibly starvation were staring them
in the face, but t___ ____ched not; they had determined to start, and start they
did. Against all these tremendous odds, it looked like flying in the face of
providence and the fates that they trusted to help them through, but hope led
on, and despair lay behind; they followed the one and fled from the other. They
had not gotten far from the camp at Big Bone lick before the sun went down and
the shades of night gathered around them. They selected an obscure place, raked
some leaves into it for a bed, and with the aid of their blankets got such rest
and sleep as they could; but there was not, as may be supposed, much sleep for
them that night.

  When the women failed to return to camp at or later than the usual time, the
Indians became uneasy, thinking they had strayed too far and lost their way, or
else had been killed by wild beasts. Some of the Indians went some distance in
the direction they had started, but which course they had reversed as soon as
out of sight, and fired guns to attract their attention if they should be lost.
They gave up the search, however, and did not renew it the next day. Their
conclusion was that the women had been destroyed by wild beasts, and gave
themselves no further concern about them. They did not at all suspect that the
women had attempted an escape. These facts were learned by William Ingles, from
the Indians, many years after, at an Indian treaty, or conference, held at Point
Pleasant not long after the battle at that place, when the Indians learned for
the first time what had become of the missing women so long before.

  Next morning, the women made an early start from a point near the mouth of Big
Bone creek, fifteen miles below the mouth of the Big Miami, and about forty
miles below the present site of Cincinnati. They kept the Ohio river in view,
and tramped and toiled their weary way up its course, cheered by the knowledge
that every mile they made took them one mile nearer their far-off homes. Without
any special misadventure, after days and days of toil, and nights of uneasy
rest, having passed Licking river, the sites of the present cities of Covington
and Newport, and of the proud city of Cincinnati—all then an untrodden
wilderness. After passing the sites of Foster, Augusta, Maysville, Concord, and
Vanceburg, they at last reached the point opposite the Shawnee town of Scioto.
The main Shawnee town in those days was not above the mouth, where Portsmouth
now stands, but a short distance below. This was their chief or capital town.
Their council house, built of logs, was ninety feet long and covered with bark.
When Mrs. Ingles and her companion reached the point opposite the Shawnee town
of Scioto, they were weary and worn, and almost famished with hunger. They had
subsisted, thus far on walnuts, hickorynuts, grapes and paw-paws; here they
found a corn patch and an isolated, untenanted cabin. As it was about dark when
they reached it, they slept in the cabin—seeing no sign of any one about it—and
enjoyed a hearty supper and breakfast of corn.

  Next morning the women discovered an old horse grazing about, loose. They
"appropriated" this horse, gathered what corn they could manage to carry, and
getting away from the neighborhood of the settlement as quietly and as quickly
as they could, resumed their onward movement. They could plainly see the town
and Indians on the opposite side, but managed to keep themselves unseen. The
horse was a most valuable acquisition, and a great comfort to them. Sometimes
they rode him on the "ride and lead" plan, alternating, and sometimes both would
have to walk and lead, depending upon the nature of the ground and route,
whether rough or smooth. This day they had a great fright and narrow escape. A
party of Indian hunters passed very near them, but they secreted themselves and
horse as best they could among the underbrush, to avoid being seen, and waited
until the hunters passed out of range, when they again moved on. After several
days of travel, having passed the sites of the future towns of Greenup, Ashland
and Catlettsburg, they reached the Big Sandy, which they were unable to cross
near its mouth, and they traveled up it a long distance before they could cross.
At length they came to a lodgement of driftwood extending clear across the
stream. In an effort to get the horse over on the drift, his legs; slipped down
through, leaving his feet hanging down in the water, and his body resting on the
logs above, unable to extricate himself. They were touched with pity to leave
the poor creature in this sorry and helpless plight, but there was no help for
it so they abandoned him to his hapless fate. They each took a little corn from
what was left of their scanty stock. They then started down the upper or east
side of Big Sandy and retraced with weary steps the distance to the Ohio again,
and thence up it, sometimes along the river bank, and sometimes along the ridges
with the river in sight. As they did with the Big Sandy, so they had to do with
every stream they came to, from first to last. When they could not wade the
stream at the mouth, they had to go up it till they could, and many of the
streams required days and days of weary travel up to a point of practicable
crossing, and back again to the main stream, their only guide, thus increasing
very greatly the distance traveled. Fortunately for them it was at a season of
the year when the waters were comparatively low, or this difficulty, serious as
it now was, would have been insurmountable. Frequently, in going up or down
these side streams, they could see that the stream made a large bend, and to
save distance, they would go across the ridge, having to pull themselves up the
steep hills by the bushes and sods until they reached the top, when from fatigue
and exhaustion, they would more slide than walk down, bruising and scratching
themselves severely as they went.

  The weather was now getting cold, and they suffered greatly from exposure.
They had long since worn out their shoes, or moccasins, and their clothes were
worn and torn to shreds and rags by the bushes and briers. At nights they slept
under shelving rocks or in hollow logs, on leaves, moss, or such things as they
could rake together. When they failed to find nuts and berries enough to sustain
them, they were often driven by hunger to pull up small shrubs or plants, and
chew such as had tender bark on their roots, without the slightest idea of what
they were, or what their effects might be; the cravings of hunger must be
appeased by whatever they could chew or swallow. They protected their feet as
best they could, by wrapping them with strings torn from what was left of their
dresses, and tied on with strings made from the soft, flexible bark of the young
leather-wood shrub.

  Toiling along in this sorry plight day after day, having passed the present
sites of Huntington and Guyandotte, they crossed Guyandotte river, passed Green
Bottom, opposite the site of Gallipolis, and at length reached the mouth of the
Kanawha river.

  Day after day they dragged their weary limbs along, suffering and starving;
night after night shivered, starved, and suffered, crawling into hollow logs or
hollow trees as a partial protection from the increasing cold, and thus they
traversed this now beautiful valley which was then an unbroken wilderness. From
Point Pleasant the fugitives passed up on the lower or west side of Kanawha,
passing opposite the present towns of Leon, Buffalo, Red House and Raymond City.
Continuing on they passed by Tackett 's Knob, over the site of Winfield, up and
down Coal river, past the site of St. Albans, opposite the mouth of Elk river
and the site of the present city of Charleston. Four or five miles above here
they passed opposite Campbell's creek above which was; the salt spring where
Mrs. Ingle and her companions and captors had stopped to rest and make salt some
months before. Ten miles further up the river they passed opposite the
afterwards noted Burning spring, and on by the mouths of Rush, Lens, Fields,
Slaughters and Cabin creeks, and four miles above they passed the mouth of
Kelly's creek. Three miles above Kelly's creek, the fugitives passed the mouth
of Paint creek, the route of the Indian trail down which Mrs. Ingles and her
captors came some months before.

  Four miles above Paint Creek, they entered what is now Fayette county, passing
the present sites of Montgomery, Eagle, Mount Carbon, Deepwater, and the falls
of the Great Kanawha river. Some two miles above the falls, the fugitives passed
on the opposite side of the mouth of Gauley river, and thence out of the Kanawha
valley proper, and entered the grand canyon of New river. How did they ever get
through it? Can the railroad engineers who located the C. & O. road, or the
contractors and others who built it, or anybody who ever looked down into that
awful chasm from the cliffs and precipitous mountains 1,000 to 1,500 feet above,
or anyone who ever looked out at it from the windows of a Chesapeake & Ohio
railway car—can any of these, looking back, in imagination, to the time when all
this wild scene was in a state of nature, tell how these destitute and famished,
but heroic women ever made the passage of this terrible gorge from Gauley to
Greenbrier? Or can they conceive of the amount of daring and desperation it
required to nerve them to the effort? The half can not now be told in full
detail, but the simple and comprehensive answer is: They did it and survived.
They passed up by Penitentiary Rocks, the Little Falls, the Blue Hole, the
Pope's Nose, the Short Tunnel, Cotton Hill, Hawks Nest, Lover's Leap, South
Fayette, Sewell, Fire Creek, Thurmond, Stone Cliff, Castle Rock, Quinnimont, War
Ridge, Stretcher's Neck, Piney, Glade Creek, New River Falls, and numerous other
places—all nameless then. They walked, climbed, crept, and crawled, through
brush and thorns, vines and briers, over and around the huge rocks that have
tumbled down from the towering cliffs above, and the avalanches of debris
followed their crushing courses—climbed under or over fallen timber, over
slippery banks and insecure footings, wading creeks that had to be crossed,
wading around cliffs and steep banks that jutted out into the main stream, and
when this was impossible, as was sometimes the case, they had to climb over or
around the obstruction. however high, however difficult, however tedious,
however dangerous, looking down from the dizzy heights upon the rushing, roaring
torrents of New river below, madly dashing against the huge rocks and boulders
that obstruct its course, and lashing the bases of the cliffs and tortuous
shores as it furiously rushes on. Suppose, in this terrible struggle, these
poor, leg-weary and footsore women had, in their unrestful slumbers, on couches
of leaves or bare earth, in eaves or hollow logs, dreamed that their
great-grandchildren would now be gliding through this wild canyon, the roughest
this side of the Rocky mountains, in luxurious Pullman palace cars, at the rate
of forty to sixty miles an hour—outspeeding the wind—and that time and distance
should be annihilated in sending messages through it to far away friends! They
probably did not, in their wildest fights, even dream anything so seemingly
impossible; and yet how strangely true it is!

  In this narrative, we will not follow these fugitives further, but leave the
remainder of their hard and hazardous journey to the imagination of the reader.
Suffice it to say, that after days and weeks of dangerous and difficult
traveling, they finally reached a fort at "Dunkard Bottom," on the west side of
the river, a short distance above "Ingles' Ferry." Such a meeting of friends and
relatives under such circumstances, and after all that occurred since they last
parted, nearly five months before, may be imagined, but cannot be described.

ANNE BAILEY

  Anne Bailey was the heroine of the pioneers of the New-Kanawha river valley
and it is both fit and proper that her name should be preserved in the history
of Fayette county. This is no fancy sketch but the plain facts concerning a well
known woman who lived on the outskirts of civilization.

  Anne was an English girl who was born in Liverpool about 1742. The time of her
birth is obtained from the date of the execution of Lord Lovat in 1747. Anne
remembered being present at the execution when she was five years old. Her
maiden name was Hennis and her father was an old British soldier. She received a
limited education before she left Liverpool.

  When her parents died Anne was left alone in the world. About 1761 Anne
boarded a vessel and came to Virginia where she had friends or kindred by the
name of Bell who lived at Staunton. Here she received a hearty welcome in their
home.

  In Augusta county she met Richard Trotter who was a soldier defending the
border against the incursions of the Indians. He had been with Braddock in 1755
and later returned to Staunton. Anne was married to Trotter in 1765 and two
years later a son was born who was given the name of William. In later years he
proved a support and blessing to his mother during the period of her old age.

  Richard Trotter was a soldier during Dunmore's war and was with the army of
General Lewis at the battle of Point Pleasant on October 10, 1774 where he was
mortally wounded, and there he was buried.

  When Anne heard of her husband's death she seemed to become imbued with a wild
frenzy and determined to make the Indians suffer for her loss and thus avenge
her husband's death. She donned a man's wearing apparel and entered upon a
career which has no parallel in Virginia history. She left her son, who was then
seven years of age, with a neighbor woman by the name of Mrs. Moses Mann.

  The Revolutionary war was then at hand and the Indians were aiding the
British. Though Anne had been born in England she had now become a Virginian.
Traveling from Roanoke to the Potomac she became acquainted all along the line.
She started out as a recruiting agent and her appeals in behalf of the
defenseless women of the border persuaded many men to enlist in the fight for
freedom. Then she began to carry messages to the soldiers westward to Fort
Fincastle on Jackson's river, to Fort Edward on the Warm Spring mountain, and in
1778 to Fort Savannah at Lewisburg, in Greenbrier county, which was then the
most western outpost except Fort Randolph at Point Pleasant.

  Somewhere she met John Bailey who was one of the band of rangers employed to
scout the country and give notice in time of danger to the people in the forts.
John Bailey had probably heard of Anne before he met her. At least they became
acquainted and time had its usual effects for soon John had succeeded in
persuading her to become his life partner. On the third of November 1785 they
were married in the office of Rev. John McCue at Lewisburg. In the marriage
record book number one, on page seven, in the office of the county clerk of
Greenbrier county, is found evidence of the above recorded fact. Perhaps in
attendance at the marriage where many soldiers who wished Bailey and Anne a
happy and contented life.

  In 1788 the Clendennins came to the Kanawha valley and constructed the fort at
the mouth of Elk river. John Bailey, accompanied by Anne, and with a number of
others, went along to help garrison the fort. Anne was ready and eager to go,
and was always willing to do anything that would render service to those in the
fort. She was the best of nurses and could always be relied upon to lend a
helping hand. She was willing at any time to ride to any part of the country and
she could handle a rifle equal to any Indian or scout. She often took messages
to Fort Randolph which was sixty miles down the river, with little or no road,
and with not a house between the forts. She had to make the trip in two days
thus being one night on the road and usually selecting a cave as a place of
shelter at night.

  In 1791 Fort Lee was beleagured by a large number of Indians, far surpassing
the meagre list of its brave defenders. Just as the war-whoop sounded and the
wild shrieks of the savages pierced the air, a fearful discovery was made by the
defenders of the fort. The supply of powder in the magazine was exhausted and it
seemed that the destruction of all the men and women of that devoted band was at
hand. The only place from which a supply of powder could be obtained was at
Lewisburg which was distant a hundred miles, and the route lay through a forest
infested with Indians on the war path, along trackless ways, across deep rivers,
and over the mountains through a region where hitherto only few except the wild
animal, the savage Indian, or the frontier warrior had traveled.

  Colonel Clendennin summoned the garrison to assemble and called for volunteers
who would leave their families and undertake the journey of one hundred miles to
the fort at Lewisburg. Anne Bailey readily volunteered asserting that the men
were needed to protect the fort and that she was familiar with the route.

  The best horse in the stockade was brought and saddled, the gates of the fort
were opened and she went forth like a wraith into the trackless forests thickly
infested with Indians who were besieging the fort. She sped up the valley of the
Kanawha, over the torrent of the Gauley, over the Gauley mountains, through what
is now Fayette county, and on to her destination. She did not stop to sleep for
she took no thoughts of day or night when on such a tremendous errand. Arriving
at Lewisburg the gates of the fort were opened to her and she reported the
purpose of her trip.

  A short rest and a bite to eat while her horse was fed and rested and then she
was ready for the return trip. She was furnished with a horse in addition to her
own, and both animals were laden with powder. The officer in command at Fort
Savannah offered to send a guard with her but she objected. They were unable to
send sufficient men to assist her should an attack be made, and besides her
safety depended upon the quiet in which she might make her journey. Day and
night she again pressed through the wilderness, this time with her face turned
to the west, one hope animating her life—the hope of saving the lives of the
garrison at Fort Lee.

  After the darkness of the night, when hope had died away in the heart of the
garrison, a quiet knocking was heard at the gates of the fort, a moment later
Anne Bailey was admitted with sufficient powder to preserve the defenders from
destruction by the Indians, and thus the outposts of civilization in the west
were saved from fire and tomahawk.

  Great deeds have been done and recorded by history, but no chronicle surpasses
in heroism, daring, and skill the two-hundred-mile ride of Anne Bailey through a
trackless wilderness to Fort Savannah and the return to Fort Lee.

    "The succor was so nobly sought,
     To Charleston's Fort was timely brought,
     While Justice on the Scroll of Fame,
     In letters bold, engraved her name—Anne Bailey."

FERGUSON-SMITH MASSACRE

  On the 11th of April, 1793, five Indians came to the house in which lived
Henry Smith and James Ferguson, and remained concealed during the night. Early
in the morning, the appearance of some ten or twelve men, coming from the house
with guns for the purpose of amusing themselves in shooting at a mark, delayed
the Indians from making their meditated attack. The men seen by them were
travelers who had associated for mutual security, and who, after partaking of a
morning's repast, resumed their journey, unknown to the savages. When Mr. Smith
and the sons of Mr. Ferguson went to their day's work, being engaged in carrying
clapboards for covering a cabin, at some distance from the house, they were seen
by the Indians, who despairing of succeeding in an attack on the house, changed
their position and concealed themselves by the side of the path along which
those engaged at work had to go. Mr. Smith and his son being at a little
distance in front, they fired and Smith fell. He was then tomahawked and scalped
while others of the party followed and caught the son as he was attempting to
escape by flight.

  Three other boys were then some little distance behind and out of sight, and
hearing the report of the gun which killed Smith, for an instant supposed that
it proceeded from the rifle of some hunter in quest of a deer, but were soon
satisfied that this supposition was unfounded. Three Indians came running toward
them bearing their guns in one hand, and tomahawks in the other. One of the boys
stupefied by terror and unable to move from the spot was immediately made
prisoner. Another, a son of Ferguson, was also soon caught; but the third,
finding himself out of sight of his pursuer, ran to one side and concealed
himself in a bunch of alders, where he remained until the Indians passed the
spot where he lay. Then he arose and taking a different direction ran with all
his speed and effected an escape. The little prisoners were then together; and
one of Mr. Ferguson's sons being discovered to have but one eye, was stripped
naked, and a tomahawk sunk into his head, a spear run into his body and the
scalp then removed from his bleeding head.

  The little boy who had escaped from the savages, being forced to go a
direction opposite to the house, proceeded to a station about eight miles off
and communicated intelligence of what had been done at Smith's. A party of men
equipped themselves and went immediately to the scene of the action; but the
Indians had hastened to their homes. One of their little captives, Benjamin
Ferguson, being asked by them how many men were at the house replied "twelve."
To the question "how many miles to the nearest fort" he answered "two miles."
Yet he well knew that there was no fort nearer than eight miles, and that there
was not a man at the house, Mr. Ferguson being from home and the twelve
travelers having departed before his father and he had gone out to work. His
object was to save his mother and the other women and children, from captivity
or death. Deterred by prospects of being discovered and perhaps being defeated
by the white men they departed in the greatest hurry, taking with them Benjamin
and Isaac Ferguson.

  In August two daughters of Captain David Scott, going to the meadow with
dinner for the mowers, were taken by some Indians who were watching the path.
The younger was killed on the spot; but the latter being taken some little
distance farther, and the search for her proving unavailing, her father fondly
hoped that she had been carried into captivity, and that he might redeem her.
For this purpose he visited Pittsburgh and engaged the service of a friendly
Indian to ascertain where she was and endeavor to prevail on them to ransom her.
Before his return from Fort Pitt, some of his neighbors, directed to the spot by
some buzzards hovering over it, found her half eaten and mutilated body.

JOHN BUSH

  On the 24th day of April 1791, John Bush, having very early sent two of his
children to bring in the cows became alarmed by their screams and, taking down
his gun, was proceeding to learn the cause of it when he was met at the door by
an Indian who caught hold of the gun, forced it from his grasp, and shot him
with it. Bush fell across the threshhold, and the savage drew his knife to scalp
him. Mrs. Bush ran to the assistance of her husband, and with an ax, aimed a
blow at the Indian with such force that it fastened itself in his shoulder and
when he jumped back his exertion pulled the handle from her hand. She then drew
her husband into the house and secured the door. During this time others of the
savages had come up and, after endeavoring in vain to force open the door, they
commenced shooting through it, but fortunately Mrs. Bush remained untouched,
although eleven bullets passed through her frock and some of them just grazed
the skin. One of the savages observing an aperture between the logs, thrust the
muzzle of his gun through it. With an ax Mrs. Bush struck on the barrel so as to
make it ring and the savage on drawing it back exclaimed, "Durn you." Still they
were endeavoring to force an entrance into the house until they heard what they
believed to be a party of whites coming to their relief. It was Adam Bush, who
living close by, hearing the screams of the children and the firing of the gun,
had set off to learn what had given rise to them, and taking with him his dogs.
The noise made by them in crossing the creek alarmed the savages and caused them
to retreat taking off the two children as their prisoners.

  A company of men was soon collected and went in pursuit of the Indians, but
were unable to overtake them and regain the prisoners. They, however, came so
nearly upon them on the Gauley river that they were forced to flee, leaving the
plunder and several of the horses which they had taken from the settlement.

  Several expeditions were organized that went in search of the Bush children,
but they were never found. Mr. Bush's wounds did not prove fatal. He often spoke
of the bravery of his wife in saving his life. Both of their lives were very
much saddened over the loss of their two children.

MASSACRE OF THE MORRIS CHILDREN

  Henry Morris was the second son of William Morris, Sr., an early pioneer
settler of Fayette county. He married Mary Bird of Bath county, Virginia. Mary
Bird was captured by the Indians when she was only nine years of age and taken
as prisoner to Chillicothe, Ohio, where she was held for seven years. Her sister
was taken captive at the same time. When Mary and her sister were departing for
their home an Indian child cried for her sister. The Indians retained the sister
and she was never heard of again.

  Henry built his cabin on Peters creek of Gauley river in 1791. His only
neighbors were Conrad Young and Edward McClung. He was a dairyman and settled in
that locality against the wishes of his brothers and friends. They told him that
it was unsafe to locate so far from a fort, and that a band of Indians would
some day fall upon his family unawares and massacre them according to their
brutal custom. Morris paid no attention to their expostulations, for he was a
fearless man who flinched from naught that walked or crawled upon the earth. He
was a large, stout, healthy man, and when aroused was a desperate one. He was an
athlete and no man could cope with him in any game where strength, skill and
endurance were required. No one could equal him in running, jumping and
wrestling. He was at the battle of Point Pleasant in 1774, and was with the men
that went around Crooked creek to attack the Indians on the flank and rear.

  Henry and Mary Morris had eight children, seven daughters and one son. The
girls were Leah, Catherine, Margaret, Polly and Betsy. There were two other
daughters but we have failed to learn their names. The only son was John Morris.

  The incident of the massacre of the two children of Henry Morris is given as
follows:

  About sunset, one summer afternoon in 1792, two daughters of Henry Morris,
Margaret and Betsy, aged 14 and 11 respectively, were sent down the road a few
hundred yards from their cabin to drive up the cows and calves. Two Indians and
two white men, said to have been Simon Girty and Saul Carpenter, were strolling
in the woods near the home of Henry Morris. The Indians were supposed to have
been watching a path that led to the two cabins occupied by Morris and his
neighbor, Conrad Young. The girls had not gone out of sight of the house when
they were suddenly confronted by the two Indians who had been concealed in a
fence corner. They screamed and attempted to escape. Their screams were heard by
Morris and Young who caught up their rifles and ran as rapidly as they could to
their relief. But they arrived too late. The Indians had tomahawked and scalped
them both, and then with the two white men had made their escape. Betsy had
endeavored to escape by climbing over a fence but her dress of home-made linsey
caught on a splinter of one of the rails which held her until one of the Indians
came up. She was scalped and killed instantly and was found by her father with
her dress still fastened on the rail of the fence. Margaret also made an attempt
to escape but tripped on a vine while running and was caught by the other Indian
and scalped. She was dying when her father arrived at the spot. She exclaimed:
"Father, I am killed!" and expired in his arms as he bore her to the house. The
dead bodies were wrapped in blankets taken from the beds, placed in a box, and
buried together in one grave on the banks of Peters creek.

  The remainder of the family packed their movable furniture and started at once
for the fort at Kellys creek where they arrived the next day.

  Henry Morris sadly lamented the untimely death of his two daughters and
registered a vow that he would kill every Indian who might thereafter come in
his way. This resolution gave the settlers much trouble for on several occasions
it was with difficulty that they prevented him from killing peaceable Indians
who came into the settlement under flags of truce. Morris determined to kill
every Indian that he could find, and it was not long afterwards that he heard of
one being in the neighborhood. He got his gun and started on a hunt for him but
heard that he had already gone. With a determination not to let the Indian
escape him, he followed his trail up Elk river and killed him early the next
morning. As long as Henry Morris lived he never recognized any Indian as a
friendly one, and if there were friendly Indians in the neighborhood, they had
to keep the information from Henry and get them out of the way before he heard
thereof, for he could not be persuaded to treat them other than as sworn enemies.

  Morris secured a patent for 600 acres of land on Peters creek in 1793, where
he cleared out a farm and there he raised his family. Conrad Young was a
celebrated hunter and trapper. He and Morris spent a great portion of their time
in hunting and trapping in the vicinity of their cabins, but they were cautious
not to go too far from home because the country was yet at times infested with
Indians. They were very successful in trapping, as the Peters creek valley was
full, so to speak, of otters, beavers, foxes and musk-rats which produced the
best of furs.

  Henry Morris remained on his Peters creek farm until his death in 1824. Some
in speaking of him said that he was a physical giant, an athlete and a
dare-devil; that he was as fearless as he was powerful, and as determined as
fearless.

  One daughter of Henry Morris married William Bird of Bath county, Virginia.
They settled on the Twenty Mile of Gauley but afterwards settled on Sycamore
where they remained all their lives. Another daughter married Jesse James, also
of Bath county. They settled on Otter creek where they had a good farm. After
their children grew up, Jesse moved on to Elk river, not far above Charleston,
and there they remained the rest of their lives. One of the James girls married
Arch Price who lived on Elk river. Elizabeth James married John D. Young, son of
John Young the scout. Another daughter of Henry married one of the sons of
Conrad Young.

  John Morris, the only son of Henry, married Jane Brown in 1807. They had six
sons and five daughters. The boys were Henry, Leonard, Thomas, Ryan, John and
Silas. The girls were Mary, Mattie, Jane, Margaret and Sarah. Mattie married W.
B. Summers and lived on Peters creek until her death in 1903. Jane married Rev.
A. N. Rippetoe. She died in 1904 at Cross Lanes. Thomas Morris married Leah
Ellis and their eldest son was John Silas Morris.

  One of the sons of John Silas Morris was Alfred N. Morris who was born in
1875. He was baptized and joined the Jordan Light Baptist church in 1894;
licensed to preach in 1897; married Virginia Belle Given in 1899; and was
ordained a minister in 1899. Rev. A. N. Morris was for several years pastor of
the Ansted Baptist church. He was in possession of much information concerning
the Morris family.


Additional Comments:

Extracted from:

HISTORY OF FAYETTE COUNTY
WEST VIRGINIA
BY
J. T. PETERS AND H. B. CARDEN

1926
JARRETT PRINTING COMPANY
CHARLESTON, W. VA.


Copyright, 1926. 
BY THE FAYETTE COUNTY HISTORICAL SOCIETY, INC.
All Rights Reserved.


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