CHAPTER VI.

PREDATORY INCURSIONS OF THE INDIANS - THE CAPTURE AND RELEASE OF MRS. 
GLASS - THE CAPTURE OF HENRY BAKER - A REMINISCENCE OF PIONEER LIFE - 
AN ATTACK UPON A HUNTING PARTY - AN ATROCIOUS MURDER - THE ATTACK ON 
KIRKWOOD'S CABIN - A TIMELY WARNING - THE KILLING OF GRINDSTAFF - THE 
CAPTURE OF THE CROW GIRLS - MEMORIAL OF THE INHABITANTS OF MIDDLE 
WHEELING - LETTER OF COL. SHEPHERD - THE DEATH OF PARRON THE SCOUT - 
ESCAPE OF CUPPY - JOSHUA MEEK THE SCOUT - THREE HUNTERS WAYLAID AND 
KILLED - THE LAST BATTLE BETWEEN THE WHITES AND INDIANS IN THE UPPER 
OHIO VALLEY. 

THE TREATY of peace entered into between the mother country and the 
colonies which ended the war of our revolution having withdrawn the 
aid of their English allies, the Indians were less able to carry on 
the bold and open warfare in which they had been engaged for so many 
years past. Yet while this was the case it did not put an end to the 
harassments by them of the whites on every occasion which presented 
itself. That section of the country - the borders - now began to 
develop more rapidly and population began to increase since the 
cessation of hostilities between Great Britain and the United States. 
The Indians in their incursions now rather sought plunder than to 
take human life, and although individuals sometimes were sacrificed 
by them yet this was not of frequent occurrence. At long intervals 
the people of the upper portion of northwestern Virginia would be 
startled by some blood curdling episode perpetrated on individuals, 
or the capture of some settler. But so far as organized attacks by 
large bodies of Indians were concerned, there were none such that we 
have been able to discover. There were bands numbering from two to 
twenty, perhaps, who roamed about at times in the vicinity of the 
settlement, seeking opportunities to steal, and the murders which 
they perpetrated were rather exceptional than otherwise. There were 
some, of course, whose bloodthirsty natures could only be appeased by 
the taking of human life.
 
In the early spring of 1789 two Indians suddenly appeared at the 
cabin of a Mr. Glass, who resided in that part of Ohio county, now 
Brooke county, the first discovery of whom was made by a negro woman, 
who, in great terror, ran into the cabin where Mrs. Glass was engaged 
in spinning, exclaiming - "Indians! Indians!" Mrs. Glass jumped up 
from the spinning wheel and running to the door, there met an Indian 
with gun presented at her. She grasped the muzzle, pushing it to one
side, and plead with him not to kill her. Walking into the house
he was joined by the other Indian who had the negro woman and her
boy about four or five years of age. Selecting some articles of
clothing, they departed with their prisoners - Mrs. Glass and her
little boy two year's of age, the negro woman and her boy, and her
infant child. They had not gone very far before they stopped and
consulted together, and from their gestures and their pointing 
towards the children, inferred that they were deliberating about 
them; whereupon she placed her little boy in front of them and asked 
that his life might be spared, and added: "He will make a fine Indian 
chief after a while." By a motion they waved her to one side, when 
one of the Indians struck the negro boy on the head with the pipe end 
of his tomahawk, knocking him to the ground, and with the edge gave 
him a blow across the back of the neck, and then scalped and left 
him. 

They reached the river about a mile above the creek and pulled a 
sunken canoe out of the river, which they had concealed there, and 
after emptying it of water, got into it and paddled down to the mouth 
of Rush run, a small steam which flowed into the Ohio about five 
miles from Wellsburg on the Indian side of the river, where they 
landed at the mouth of that stream and went up the run and encamped 
for the night. During the entire night the black woman lamented in an 
audible manner the killing of her child, which so aggravated the 
Indians that they threatened if she did not cease her mourning that 
they would dispatch her. In the early morning they hurried their 
prisoners away and in the early afternoon halted on Shoat creek, 
about twenty or twenty-five miles from the mouth of Rush run. Here 
there was a depot of articles which they had carried away from Van 
Metre's, whose family they had so ruthlessly murdered. This plunder 
they had deposited in the hollow of a tree. Before this the same spot 
had been used by them as an encampment. There were a number of sugar 
trees here and they started a fire and put on a kettle in which they 
placed a turkey which had been killed on the way. Tapping the sugar 
trees they filled the kettle with sugar water, in which they placed 
the turkey and proceeded to boil it.
 
At the time of the appearance of the Indians at his cabin Mr. Glass 
was absent, and with a companion, was working in a field distant 
about a half mile from his cabin, and knew nothing of what had 
transpired there until his return to his home at the noon hour. 
Unable to account for that absence of his family he visited several 
cabins in search of them, but not finding them, he then visited 
Wells' fort, where he secured ten men to accompany him in quest of 
them, and reaching the bottom on which the town of Wellsburg now 
stands, remained there during the night. Early on the following 
morning they started in pursuit and discovered signs of Indians and 
their tracks at the spot where they had embarked. The track of his 
wife was discovered by Mr. Glass from the impression of her shoe, the 
print of its high heel identifying it. 

Crossing the river they followed down the shore until they came to 
the mouth of the run, up which the Indians with their prisoners had 
encamped, but discovering no signs of Indians, some of the party 
concluded that they would continue by water to the mouth of the 
Muskingum, and proposed to turn back. The importunity of Mr. Glass, 
however, prevailed upon them to go as far as the mouth of Short 
creek, which was but a few miles distant. Upon reaching the mouth of 
Rush run they found the canoe of the Indians. This was known by a 
proof which showed the sagacity of Mrs. Glass.  One of the Indians 
had taken from the cabin several papers belonging to that person. As 
they were on their way down the river he had thrown these into the 
stream, and some of them were picked up by Mrs. Glass, who, under the 
pretense of giving them to her child to amuse himself with, dropped 
them on the bottom of the canoe. These dumb witnesses gave evidence 
that they were on the right track, and searching the ground in the 
neighborhood they soon discovered the trail of the savages. Within an 
hour or two after they had halted Glass and his companions came 
within sight of their camp. Their object was now to save the lives of 
the prisoners by making a sudden attack, and by surprising them, thus 
preventing them from killing their captives. With this view they 
stealthily approached the camp and concealed themselves until they 
had succeeded in reaching within a few yards of it. The son of Mrs. 
Glass had stepped to one side and was attempting unsuccessfully to 
pour the water from one of the sugar troughs, when the mother 
perceiving his inability to do so had gone to his assistance. The 
negro woman was sitting apart from the two Indians, who were 
curiously examining a garment which they had stolen. Suddenly 
dropping the garment they turned their gaze in the direction where 
the whites were lying awaiting a favorable opportunity to attack 
them, who supposing they were discovered, at once discharged several 
of their guns and rushed upon them, at the same time shouting at the 
top of their voices. One of the Indians appeared to have been wounded 
as he fell, at the same time dropping his gun and shot pouch. 
Recovering his feet, he ran a short distance when a second shot was 
fired at him which brought him to his hands and knees. But the 
pursuit was not continued, as there was another encampment not far 
distant, where were a number of Indians, and as they accomplished 
their purpose, in obtaining possession of the captives, they at once 
started on their return, and reached the fort at Beech Bottom that 
evening. At the first fire the other Indian who had run a short 
distance beyond Mrs. Glass, thus placing her in a direct line between 
him and the whites, halted for a second to put on his shot pouch, 
which Mr. Glass mistook for an attempt to kill his wife by 
tomahawking her. His life was saved because the whites could not 
shoot at him without endangering the life of the woman. The 
foregoing, we believe, is in main the correct account of this 
episode. 

Sometime in the "eighties" information was received by James 
Marshall, lieutenant commandant of Washington county, Penn., of an 
apprehended attack by the Indians on, Fort Henry. What foundation 
there was for this report, whether well or ill founded, we have been 
unable to ascertain. At all events Col. Marshall deemed it 
sufficiently authentic to justify him in communicating the 
information to the military authorities of Ohio county, and 
accordingly dispatched Henry Baker, Lewis Yoho and one Stalnaker, to 
warn them. 

Proceeding on their mission they had succeeded in reaching a point 
near the mouth of Woods' run, about two miles from the Wheeling, when 
they were intercepted by a party of Indians who were lying in ambush, 
who fired upon them, killing Stalnaker. Baker's horse was shot and as 
it fell imprisoned the leg of Baker, by falling upon it, he being 
unable to disengage his foot from the stirrup, and he was captured. 
Baker had returned the fire of the Indians and killed a brother of 
the chief. Yoho succeeded in effecting his escape. The savages, 
indignant at the killing of one of their number, sought to slay 
Baker, and would have done so had not the old chief interfered and 
prevented them, who claimed him as his prisoner. This chief spoke 
broken English. Baker was carried by them to Chippewa Plains, where 
they proposed to put him to the torture and then burn him. The 
Indians in one of their raids some short time prior to this had 
captured nine Kentuckians. A council was held by them to decide on 
the fate of their prisoners and it was resolved that they should be 
burned one on each successive day until the whole of them were 
disposed of, reserving Baker to the last because he was the youngest. 
The fearful programme was strictly followed, and each day Baker saw 
one of the Kentuckians led to the stake where he suffered the most 
horrible tortures which Indian ingenuity could invent, while the 
flames kindled upon him, the Indians the meanwhile dancing and 
yelling around their doomed and helpless victim as the flames leaped 
with angry tongues over his body and licked the roasting flesh from 
his bones. Thus day by day he was reminded of his own end. His day at 
last arrived and he was required to prepare himself for death. As he 
was being led forward to the fatal stake, he saw in the distance a 
horseman advancing at a rapid speed, who, as he drew near he 
discovered was a white man, and although it was not until he arrived 
upon the scene that he identified him, yet his despairing heart for 
no other reason than he was a white man, began to have a faint hope 
that through his instrumentality he might be relieved from his 
perilous situation. Hence he lingered and held back and as far as 
possible delayed until the arrival of the horseman. It proved to be 
none other than Simon Girty. Baker was well acquainted with him, 
having frequently met him, and Girty was well acquainted with Baker. 
On recognizing the prisoner, Girty at once interposed in his behalf 
and for an hour he used all the power of eloquence and argument at 
his command to save the life of the captive. Nor did his efforts 
prove to be in vain as his influence preserved his life. After Baker 
was released he questioned him closely concerning points on the 
border and in particular about Wheeling fort, its condition, its 
means of defense and who was in command there, and endeavored to 
obtain from him such information as would prove to be most useful and 
important. Baker was retained by the savages as a captive about one 
year, when again owing to the influence of Girty he was sent to the 
English commandant at Detroit where he was retained for two years 
longer, when he was set free and permitted to return, making his way 
from Detroit to Wheeling on foot. On the occasion of his return a 
number of the settlers from the Virginia side of the river were 
gathered on the island engaged in making sugar. As Baker was spied in 
the distance approaching, clad in his Indian costume, the alarm was 
given that the Indians were upon them, and without stopping to 
investigate they at once fled to their canoes and made for the 
opposite side of the river arousing the inmates of the fort by the 
same alarming intelligence. In the meantime Baker had come down to 
the shore of the island and was endeavoring to reassure those on the 
opposite side by calling to them to come over and help him, that he 
was a white man who had been a prisoner at Detroit and was returning 
to his friends. Convinced of their mistake, they responded to his 
appeals and several persons at once went to his aid. He died in the 
year 1847 or 1848 at his home opposite the head of Captina Island, at 
the extreme old age of one hundred years, leaving surviving him six 
children - two girls and four boys, all of whom are deceased at this 
time. 

The following occurrence in chronological order was omitted in its 
proper place and is inserted here for the purpose of preserving a 
local traditional reminiscence of life upon the border in the early 
days of which we write. It was written by Dr. J. C. Hupp, of the city 
of Wheeling, W. Va., and is a thrilling account of one of those 
attacks which so often and so suddenly overtook the pioneer in his 
infant settlement: 

"In the spring of 1782 Indian hostilities commenced much earlier than 
usual along the western frontier. As early as the month of March 
hordes of savages were ascertained to have crossed the Ohio and were 
making their way into the settlements. The settlers thus threatened 
with the massacres, plunderings and captivities with which they had 
already become too familiar, were filled with spirit stirring 
excitement, commingled with alarm. In this predicament of 
apprehension and danger, the settlers along the Buffalo valley betook 
themselves with their families to the forts and block houses. About 
three miles northeast of West Alexander, Washington Co., Penn., on 
the right bank of the "Dutch fork" of Buffalo, is a peninsula formed 
by the meandering creek on the one side and Miller's run on the 
other. The isthmus next to the run is skirted by a narrow strip of 
bottom land which expands to many acres towards the creek and its 
confluence with the run. The side of the isthmus washed by the creek 
has a bold and precipitous bluff. On this isthmus was located 
Miller's block house which was besieged by a party of about seventy 
Shawnees on Easter Sunday, 1782. (Miller's block house stood on land 
now owned by William Miller, Esq., about midway between his residence 
and the "Old Graveyard." Here, too, is the perpetual spring now in 
use by the fourth Miller generation, from which this beleaguered 
block house received its supply of water.) 
 
"With their characteristic cunning and caution the Indians arrived in 
the vicinity the night previous, distributing themselves in ambush 
around the block house and along the paths leading thereto. Thus, 
lying concealed among the bushes or 'pea vines,' behind trees or 
fallen timber, they awaited the operation of circumstances. Nearly 
all the men were absent from the block house on this occasion; some 
of them being at Rice's fort, which was about two miles further down 
the creek. Of this fact the Indians most likely were apprised, and on 
this account the attack on the block house is supposed to have been 
deferred and the ambush protracted in order to destroy the men on 
their return hither.
 
"Of those who were in this rude shelter on that fatal Sabbath morning 
were: John Hupp's wife and children, Mary, Margaret, John and 
Elizabeth; Jacob Miller and several of his family; the family of 
Edward Gaither, and an old man named Mathias Ault. The devotional 
morning appeal had ascended with its wonted fervor to the Father of 
Mercies for preservation and protection. The sun had appeared above 
the eastern hills tinging with its feeble rays the summits of the 
lofty trees of the dense forest that surrounded this primitive place 
of defense. The quietude of the woods was undisturbed save by the 
occasional chirp of the wooded songster carrolling his morning 
anthem. One of the matrons of the block house had fearful forebodings 
that some terrible calamity was about to befall her husband, and 
followed him to the door entreating him not to carry into execution 
his determination to accompany his friend on that morning in search 
of a colt that had estrayed. The night previous she had dreamed that 
a 'copper' snake struck, fastening its fangs in the palm of her 
husband's hand, and that all her efforts to detach the venomous 
reptile were unavailing. This vision she interpreted as ominous of 
evil, to her husband. But, notwithstanding his wife, John Hupp set 
out in company with his friend, Jacob Miller, in search of the 
estray. 

"They entered the path leading across the run and through the woods 
in a northeasterly direction and were soon out of view.  Soon the 
quietude of the woods was disturbed by the crack of a rifle, quickly 
followed by a savage war whoop issuing from that part of the forest 
in which Hupp and Miller had entered. This alarm filled the minds of 
the women with consternation and apprehensions as to their fate. But 
Hupp being in the prime and vigor of manhood, fleet and athletic, if 
merely overpowered by numbers, his prompt return to the block house 
was confidently expected. But he had fallen a victim to the foe that 
lay concealed, patiently awaiting the approach of some ill-fated 
person.
 
"The two unsuspecting men were allowed to follow the ambush path 
unmolested until they reached the second little ravine on land now 
owned by William Miller, Esq. Here, from his concealment behind 
fallen timber, a savage fired upon Hupp, wounding him mortally; he, 
however, after he was shot, ran sixty or seventy yards to rise no 
more. Miller, being an elderly man, was boldly rushed upon by the 
merciless wretches with loud and exultant yells, and tomahawked on 
the spot. Flushed with success the savages now left their hapless victims 
scalped and pilfered of all clothing, to join in the beleaguering of 
the blockhouse. While this tragic scene was being enacted the wild 
excitement and confusion amongst the women and children in the block 
house, with no male defender but the old man Ault, can be more 
readily imagined than described.

"But at this trying moment Providence panoplied a female hero with 
courage sufficiently unfaltering for the dire emergency, in the 
person of Mrs. Ann Hupp.  Having now realized the dread forebodings 
of her vision, and shaking off the shackles of despondency, she 
turned to calm the moral whirlwind that was raging amongst the 
frantic women and children, to inspire them with hope and to rally 
the only male defender. She, in the meantime, had deputed Frederick 
Miller, an active lad, aged about eleven years, as messenger to 
Rice's fort for aid. But in this strategy she was foiled. For the lad 
had gone willingly and heroically only a few hundred yards down the 
peninsula on his dangerous embassy when he was interrupted by the 
Indians. Retracing his steps, he was pursued by two ferocious Indians 
with hideous yells and uplifted tomahawks. 

"This frightful race for life was witnessed from the block house with 
anxiety most intense. Every moment it seemed as though the lad would 
fall with cloven skull beneath the deadly stroke of one or the other 
of the two blood-thirsty pursuers, each vieing with the other which 
should strike the fatal blow. A fence had to be scaled by the boy 
without a blunder, or death - certain, instant death - was his doom. 
Summoning all his boyhood and failing strength he leaped the barrier, 
touching it merely with his hand as the foremost Indian's tomahawk 
struck the rail, accompanied by a yell of disappointment, when both 
Indians fired at him. One of the balls took effect and passed through 
the flexed arm, shattering the bones both above the elbow and between 
the joint and the wrist, whirling the lad around several times. Now 
subdued shrieks of terror commingled with joy were heard in the block 
house as the female hero, who sent out the boy ambassador, received 
him in her arms as he bounded to the door, exhausted from the race 
and the loss of blood. At this moment the Indians, leaping from their 
concealment, appeared in every direction around the block house, and 
a hot and continuous firing was commenced. The female band, with the 
now trembling and weeping Ault as their counsellor, in despair and 
anguish were forced to the conclusion that the block house would soon 
be taken by storm or envelope them in its flames, and with no hope of 
successful resistance was about to 'give up.'
 
"Again in this crisis of terrible trial and danger, Mrs. Ann Hupp 
proved equal to the emergency. Encouraging the trembling Ault and the 
weeping women with the consoling language of hope - nerving her arm 
and steeling her heart to the severe duties of the moment, she, with 
true Spartan courage, snatching up a rifle, fired at the approaching 
Indians, and then 'ran from port hole to port hole' protruding its 
muzzle in different directions - to convey the idea of great forces 
in the house - at each presentation, causing Indians to cower behind 
trees or other objects for protection. This happily conceived and 
promptly executed strategy of this pioneer heroine, without doubt, 
saved the handful of women and children from what otherwise was 
inevitable - a wholesale massacre. (After the loss of her husband 
Mrs. Hupp and her children, in accordance with her own wish, were 
taken by her brother-in-law to his cabin on the bank of the 
Monongahela, near where the village of Millsborough now stands, where 
they remained about four years, and returned to Buffalo where she 
contracted a second marriage with John May, and subsequently 
Benjainin, Ann and George were added to the family as before 
enumerated. She died on the 28th day of June, 1823, in the sixty-
sixth year of her age. Two of her children, George May and Mrs. 
Elizabeth Rogers, still survive, the former residing in Nebraska, the 
latter on Buffalo creek, who having seen the pioneer heroes and 
heroines of their youth one by one gathered to their fathers, they 
now stand the last of a race who learned from their lips these 
thrilling incidents of pioneer life.) 

"A party of the Indians had taken shelter behind a stable that stood 
not far from the block house. Emboldened by their firing not being 
promptly returned, one of them would occasionally step out to view, 
holding up before himself, as a shield, a clapboard, and then quickly 
retreat again to his shelter. At length, he stepped out boldly into 
an open space, defiantly stretching his giant frame high in the air, 
at which Ault was prevailed upon to fire, but probably without doing 
any harm. This exasperated the besieging foe, causing the assault to 
become still more terrible. At this state of the siege the women saw 
and recognized three of their men approaching in great haste from the 
direction of Rice's fort, when they commenced screaming at the top of 
their voices and beckoning the men in the direction they supposed to 
be the safest point to pass the Indians in gaining the blockhouse. 
While the Indians stood in confusion and wonderment, not 
comprehending the meaning of the screams, the men rushed forward, 
passing very near to where some of the savages stood, and before the 
Indians sufficiently recovered from their surprise to fire upon them, 
with faces red and turgid from their race, bounded into the block 
house unscathed. 

"The names of these three daring spirits, who periled their lives to 
save their helpless mothers, brothers and sisters, from savage fury, 
or perish with them, were Jacob Rowe, Capt. John Miller and Philip 
Hupp. After the arrival of these men the boldness and fury of the 
Indians abated, and during the remainder of the day only occasional 
shots were exchanged. Evidently, filled with chagrin and 
disappointment, they skulked about the neighborhood till night fall, 
and nothing more was heard of them, they, no doubt, fearing a 
reinforcement, left during the night, bearing away with them only the 
scalps of Hupp and Miller.
 
"The loss to the neighborhood of these two men was severely felt at a 
time when men were so much needed; but all hearts in that block house 
were overflowing with thanks and gratitude to a kind and merciful 
Preserver for vouchsafing to them His aid and protection when their 
great and terror-filling peril was impending for saving them from the 
ruthless hands of the merciless savages. About noon on Monday the men 
ventured out from the block house, going sadly and cautiously in 
search of Hupp and Miller, with the purpose of performing for them 
the last sad rites of the dear departed. They found the body of 
Miller lying near the bloody path, and following the traces of blood 
on the leaves and other objects over which Hupp had run, after he 
received his mortal wound, his remains were promptly recovered. 

"Their mutilated and frozen bodies were borne to the peninsula and 
laid side by side a few yards from the block house in the same grave, 
with 'puncheons' for their coffins, and to-day are lying clustered 
about the graves of those two pioneer martyrs, the remains of Jacob 
Rowe, Capt. John Jacob Miller, Frederick Miller, the heroine, Mrs. 
Ann Hupp and her daughter, Mrs. Margaret Titus. When living, the 
cement and panoply of affection and good-will bound them together in 
the tender, natal, social and moral ties of domestic kindness, 
friendship and love, and the union for defense, and when dead they 
were not separated." (Jacob Rowe being about ten years old in the 
fall Of 1776, when, in company with his mother and three brothers and 
his father, Adam Rowe, on their way to Kentucky, made a hair-breadth 
escape from the Indians at a point not far from the mouth of Grave 
creek. Here the little party was attacked by a band of marauding 
savages, who killed Mrs. Rowe and her eldest son, and captured 
Daniel, the youngest son. Jacob escaped by running into a thicket of 
willows near at hand, when closely pursued by a large muscular Indian 
who had his little brother Daniel a captive on his back - and this is 
the last account ever heard of the captive boy. After his escape, 
Jacob, trembling with fear, traveled all the day stealthily through 
the wild and dense woods, along the deep and dark hollows, and over 
the precipitous hills lying in his way back to Buffalo, and when 
night-fall overtook him with all its hideousness in the midst of the 
deep woods, he, overcome with fright, fatigue and hunger, nestled 
himself down among the leaves at the root of a fallen tree for the 
night.  - He died of a throat affection, which, without doubt, was 
founded on that cold, dread and dreary November night. - The next day 
he arrived at Buffalo, and was received into the arms of his sister.  
Mrs. Ann Hupp, to whom the weeping lad related the tragic scenes he 
had witnessed on the previous morning.  Adam Rowe, and his son Adam, 
also returned to the neighborhood, an afterward emigrated to 
Kentucky, and Jacob remained with his sister and was her survivor 
some three or four years. --- Frederick and Capt. John Jacob were 
sons of the unfortunate Jacob Miller. Frederick died on the 27th day 
of March, 1814, aged forty-three years, and Capt. John Jacob died 
August 20, 1830, aged nearly sixty-eight years.) 

The following account, of an attack by the savages on a party who had 
gone to Fishing creek on a hunting expedition for elk, was obtained 
from one of the descendants of the Crow family who is now residing on 
the same farm on Big Wheeling creek, which has been occupied by the 
family and their descendants for more than a century. 

In the month of August in the year 1789, Frederick, Martin and John 
Crow, together with a man by the name of Davis, left their homes on 
Big Wheeling creek, for the purpose of killing elk. Having reached 
their destination on Fishing creek they went into camp. On the 
evening of the second day, as Frederick and Martin, who had been out 
in search of game during the day, were returning to camp and had 
nearly reached it, they were suddenly attacked by Indians and fired 
upon from the rear of the camp, which was built after the fashion of 
the old style sugar house.  Frederick was shot in the left breast, 
the ball passing through his arm and severing the artery near the 
shoulder. At the same time Martin had a portion of one of his ear's 
shot away. Frederick being seriously wounded and bleeding profusely, 
had started to run, being closely pursued by the savages. He ran a 
distance of some three or four hundred yards when, looking back, he 
found that his pursuers were rapidly gaining upon him. Without 
hesitation, for he had no time to deliberate, he plunged into the 
waters of the creek, which were about waist deep, and waded across to 
the opposite bank. Instead of following him through the creek at 
once, they paused for a moment on the brink of the bank near the spot 
where he had entered the waters. On reaching the opposite bank he 
looked back to see whether they were following him, when one of the 
savages hurled his tomahawk at him, which, fortunately, missed him, 
although it came in unpleasant proximity to his head. Their guns 
having been emptied at the time of the attack, in their haste to 
follow him in his retreat they had had no opportunity to re-load. 
During their brief pause, however, one of his pursuers had reloaded 
his gun. They promptly re-commenced their pursuit, following him up 
the stream, the side of which he closely hugged, to a long point 
extending out from the south side of the creek, with which they were 
familiar, and where they expected to succeed in cutting him off, and 
effecting his capture. This, however, proved to be unsuccessful. 

As the wounded man ran, he placed the leaves of the sassafras, which 
grew in abundance in the neighborhood, with which he filled his 
mouth, and chewed them into a mucilage and pressed them into his 
wound, thereby staunching the flow of blood, the free loss of which 
was beginning to enfeeble and exhaust him. Upon turning again to look 
back upon his pursuers he discovered a savage with his gun to his 
shoulder taking aim and in the act of firing at him, but he eluded 
the deadly messenger by quickly throwing himself upon the ground, and 
the shot passed over him. At once jumping to his feet he gathered up 
his rifle, and realizing that it was a race for life he bent all his 
energies to the occasion, and in the rapidly gathering darkness which 
was settling down upon the scene he succeeded in eluding his pursuers 
and making good his escape. 

Frederick and his companions, at their first setting out, had agreed 
upon certain signals to be used by them in case of emergency - such 
as the hooting of an owl or the howling of a wolf, by means of which 
in no long time the discovered the whereabouts of each other, and in 
company made their return to their homes, with the exception of John. 
It is supposed that this latter person, being absent at the time of 
the attack, on hearing the firing at once hastened back to the camp 
to render assistance if needed, and in so doing became a target for 
the Indians, as it was afterward found that five musket balls had 
entered his breast, which were so close together that they could be 
covered with the palm of an ordinary-sized hand. He must have been 
instantly killed. He was buried on the third day after he was killed, 
near the fatal spot where he fell, by a party of his neighbors who 
had gone out in search of him, under a large beech tree, which served 
the purpose of his monument and on which, in rude letters, was cut 
his name, age, and date of his death.
 
One of the most atrocious murders perpetrated by the savages in Ohio 
county, was that on the family of a Mr. Purdy or Prudy, which of the 
two names being the correct one, is uncertain. He, with his wife and 
four children, had but lately settled near Wheeling. Perhaps it was a 
year or more since any Indians had appeared within that distance of 
the settlement of Wheeling, and a degree of confidence prevailed 
which led to the belief that they had entirely abandoned that section 
of the country. This caused a feeling of security which induced the 
exercise of less caution than would have been the case under other 
circumstances. 

In the spring of this year, just after dark one night, four or five 
Indians suddenly forced their way into the cabin of the unsuspecting 
family and mercilessly butchered the head and husband of the family, 
attacking the wife and mother whom they left lying senseless, 
tomahawking a boy and dashing out the brains of another. Two 
daughters were made prisoners and carried away. After plundering the 
house they hastily quitted the neighborhood and made with all 
possible speed for the Ohio, which they crossed and successfully 
effected their retreat. Mrs. Purdy or Prudy, who had not been fatally 
hurt by the blow which had been dealt her, but only stunned, soon 
recovered from its effects, but fearing that the Indians were still 
in the vicinity, secreted herself until morning in a thicket, when 
she went into the settlement at Wheeling and gave information of the 
occurrence, but too late to pursue the murderers. The girls were 
retained by the Indians for a period of ten or twelve years, when 
they were released. This occurrence took place in the spring of 1790.
 
A few years after the close of the Revolutionary war, Capt. Robert 
Kirkwood, of the Delaware line, and who had been aid-de-camp to Gen. 
Washington, settled near the mouth of Indian run on the west side of 
the Ohio river in what is now Belmont county, Ohio, opposite to 
Wheeling. He here built a cabin and cleared the ground, and commenced 
farming. About a year after his arrival he began the erection of a 
block house, but before it was completed in the early spring of the 
year 1791, a large body of Indians attacked his cabin. At the time 
Capt. Kirkwood was absent in the east, but on this occasion Capt. 
Joseph Biggs with a company of his scouts was in the cabin, together 
with several persons who were sheltering there.
 
Early in the morning Capt Biggs arose and went to the outside of the 
cabin, stretched himself for a brief space and returning, closed the 
large oaken door, and without any well-defined purpose in his mind 
for so doing, barricaded the door to make it more secure. Returning 
to his bed, in a few minutes he was startled by the familiar Indian 
yell, accompanied by their efforts to burst in the door, which they 
were trying to accomplish by a furious assault upon it with rails, 
logs and tomahawks. The lights in the cabin had all been extinguished 
and Biggs so stationed his men as to fire upon the savages from every 
point. The night being clear and the moon full the besieged had the 
advantage of the besiegers, as they could plainly see any movements 
upon the part of the Indians, while they themselves were concealed 
from view. While Capt. Biggs was standing near one of the windows of 
the cabin watching the movements of the savages, one of them 
unobserved by Biggs had stolen close along the side of the building 
and suddenly thrust his rifle through the window where he was 
standing and shot the captain in his arm just below his shoulder. 
Notwithstanding the serious character of the wound, he concealed the 
fact and did not make it known until day-light. 

All attempts at battering down the door having failed, they next had 
recourse to fire and succeeded in setting the roof in a blaze. While 
the captain and the inmates were pushing off the burning roof, the 
Indians under the cover of the unfinished block house, opened upon 
them with a fierce fire. But the whites succeeded in pushing off the 
blazing roof. This aroused the fairy of the Indians, and they made 
renewed efforts to burn the cabin by piling brush and dry wood 
against the sides of the building, which they fired. But with 
cautious perseverance they succeeded in extinguishing the flames, 
which at times threatened them with dire destruction. To accomplish 
this, they used water, milk and other liquids, and in their state of 
almost hopeless despair, the damp earth was dug up from the cabin 
floor and thrown upon the burning piles of brush and wood. 

The rapid exchange of shots aroused the people of Wheeling, who 
commenced firing their swivel gun, the heavy boom of which was echoed 
by the surrounding hills. This gave the besieged heart and they were 
encouraged by the hope of succor. The savages became disheartened, 
knowing full well what it betokened and promptly gathered up their 
wounded and disappeared. Five of the white were severely wounded, one 
of them mortally. They were Capt. Joseph Biggs, John Walker, Elijah 
Hedges, John Barrett and Joseph Van Metre. Walker, who had been shot 
through the hip during the fight, died the next day, having been 
taken to the residence of Col. Zane at Wheeling, where he died and 
was buried in the old cemetery, which at the time, occupied the site 
of the present residence of Mr. George K. Wheat, on Main street, in 
the city of Wheeling.
 
In the cabin at the time of the siege was a man by the name of James 
Simpson, who had emigrated to the west in 1783, and settled in 
Washington county, Penn.; Kirkwood, who had been a neighbor of his in 
Delaware and also a comrade in arms during the war of the revolution, 
learning that he was residing in Washington county, urged him to come 
and see him and he would give him all the land he wanted if he would 
only settle near him on that side of the river. At his urgent 
solicitation Simpson went, but on his arrival found that Kirkwood was 
absent, but concluded to stay that night and the next day set out on 
his return journey to his home. That night the cabin was attacked. 
After the experience he passed through on that occasion he concluded 
that he would not settle there for all the land on that side of the 
river.
 
A singular incident connected with this affair of the attack on 
Kirkwood's cabin is related, concerning a niece of his, who lived at 
a distance of something like twenty miles from the scene of the 
occurrence. She dreamed that her uncle's cabin was in flames, and the 
impression produced upon her mind was so deep and lasting that she 
visited the scene to assure herself of its truth or falsity. She 
arrived a few hours after the departure of the Indians to find her 
dream fully verified. A short time after his return Kirkwood joined 
the army of Gen. St. Clair in the expedition against the Indians, and 
was present at the overwhelming defeat of that officer, falling in a 
bayonet charge against the enemy.
 
In the summer of this year a band of Indians entered the cabin of a 
man by the name of Martin, who was located on a clearing near 
Wheeling, and, after murdering him and his family, set fire to the 
cabin and departed. When the news of the murder reached Wheeling, a 
party composed of eight or ten men, commanded by one Howser (a 
private in Captain Grant's company) left in pursuit of the Indians. 
They had traveled a distance of some six or eight miles through the 
forest without discovering any signs of the marauders, and were about 
returning when Howser's attention was attracted by the sight of an 
Indian girl at a little distance from the party, descending a hill in 
front of them. He promptly halted his men and made signs of peace to 
the girl to assure her, who approached to within a few rods, and drew 
from her bosom a small strip of paper and throwing it toward them, 
turned and bounded away into the forest. Howser advanced and picked 
up the paper and on perusing, it found the following written caution 
as if inscribed in great haste: "You must make your escape, the 
Indians are following after you and are on your trail." After reading 
this Howser and his men made all dispatch and hastened their march in 
the direction of Baker's fort, a few miles below Grave creek. Before 
reaching it they were overtaken and fired upon by the Indians. The 
suddenness of the attack produced some confusion among them, from 
which they, however, soon rallied, and made a  successful stand by 
keeping up a well-directed fire which finally caused the Indians to 
disperse. They then proceeded on their march to Baker's fort, which 
they reached without further molestation.
 
On arriving at this place they related the particulars of the 
skirmish in which they had been engaged, and the notable incident of 
the appearance of the Indian maid. It was subsequently learned that 
the note was written by a white man by the name of Watson, who was 
with the Indians, and by him given to the girl who, under his 
instructions, proceeded to warn the whites of their danger. It was 
generally believed, among those at the time who were cognizant of the 
affair, that the girl was a daughter of a Delaware chief, friendly to 
the whites.
 
Among others who had settled on the waters of Wheeling creek was a 
worthy family of the name of Grindstaff. The head of it was an 
industrious and laborious person who, by his energy, had converted a 
portion of the wilderness into a pleasant home and well-improved 
farm, it being the same farm now known as the Buchanan farm, situated 
a few miles above the "forks of Wheeling." When the frequent 
incursions of the Indians in the neighborhood occurred, he took the 
precaution to remove his family to Shepherd's fort for greater 
security. He, however, statedly, from time to time, visited his farm 
to look after his improvements and to exercise a general supervision 
over his property, but never, on such occasions remained absent from 
the fort over night. In accordance with his usual custom, he one day 
set out to visit his improvements, and remained there until late in 
the afternoon when he started to return to the fort. No indications 
of the presence of Indians were visible. Shortly after leaving the 
farm, while on his way to the fort, he was set upon by a party of 
Indians, who were lying in ambush, by whom he was killed and scalped.

The firing of guns attracted the attention of the inmates of the 
fort, a portion of whom started out, to discover the cause of the 
alarm, in the direction from which it proceeded. They had not 
proceeded far in their search before coming across the body of 
Grindstaff lying in the trail where he had fallen a victim to the 
blood-thirsty savages. They took up the body and bore it back to the 
fort where it was interred the following day. The Indians seemed to 
indulge a special spite against the settlements along Big Wheeling, 
and took every opportunity to wreak it upon individuals and families 
living along it. Why this was the case we can only surmise, and the 
only explanation we can attempt may be found in the fact that it was 
here where the Wetzels, Bounetts and Mersers lived, all of whom were 
implacable enemies of their race, and hunted them with relentless 
perseverance and energy.
 
One of the most terrible murders perpetrated in that neighborhood 
occurred on the first day of May, in the year, 1791. Four sisters of 
the Crow family left home on the morning of that day with a view of 
visiting a couple of aged people who lived some eight miles further 
up the creek, above the late residence of Michael Crow. Their brother 
was the father of the late Michael Crow, who resided on the farm of 
his father, and which still belongs to the descendants of this 
family. He was a boy of fourteen years of age. Prior to his sisters 
leaving home in the morning, he had been sent up the creek on an 
errand by his parent, and as he was returning homeward, having 
discharged his mission, he met his sisters who were leisurely 
pursuing their way to their destination. The girls were named, 
respectively: Elizabeth, Susan, Catharine and Christina. At the time 
of his meeting them they were not more than a mile from home. 
Checking his horse, he halted and held a brief conversation with 
them, and urged Christina, the youngest of the sisters, to mount 
behind him and return home. She declined to accede to his proposition 
and insisted upon accompanying her sisters. Finding that all his 
pursuasions were in vain, he finally desisted in his efforts to 
change her purpose and the respective parties parted and continued 
their opposite journey. But no sooner had young Crow gotten out of 
sight and hearing, than two Indians and a renegade white man, by the 
name of Spicer, sprang out from a rock behind which they had lain 
concealed and arrested the sisters, at the same time informing them 
that if they gave any alarm, or attempted to attract attention by any 
noise, threatened them with instant death. 

Ascending the hill at the base of which the capture had taken place, 
a distance of some two hundred yards, they compelled the girls to 
seat themselves on a fallen tree while they took seats with them and 
began to ply them with numerous inquiries, particularly as to their 
knowledge as to the means of defense in the neighborhood, the number 
of effective men, etc. One of the Indians who was seated between two 
of the youngest of the females held a tight grasp on the wrist of 
each. From their significant gestures and looks, and the conversation 
carried on between the three in the Indian tongue it was evident that 
they were discussing the disposition which they should make of their 
prisoners. The girls realized from what they saw and could understand 
that no mercy was to be extended to them; but that their death was 
determined upon, and that their fate was imminent.
 
Christina, the youngest, a bright and sprightly girl, had formed a 
resolution in her mind that, as death was to be her doom, she would, 
at the first propitious moment which presented itself, make a break 
for liberty. Hence, while her captors were engaged in the heat of the 
discussion and the vigilance of the Indian who held her wrist was 
somewhat relaxed, with a sudden effort she withdrew it from his grasp 
by a dexterous twist of her arm and springing to her feet darted 
away, but she had not taken but a step or two when she received a 
blow on her back with the butt end of the gun which, with his freed 
hand, he had snatched from the ground where it lay beside him. The 
blow prostrated her, but only for a moment, when promptly recovering 
herself she sped down the hill to the bank of the creek, along which, 
with swift feet, she hastened to her home and carried the sad tidings 
of the capture of her sisters. The Indians might have overtaken her 
if they had been so disposed, but in that event the other sisters 
might have successfully made their escape, and therefore they 
refrained from pursuit.
 
As soon as Christina communicated the news to the distressed family, 
they made a hasty departure from their home and fled to Findley's 
block house for shelter and protection. It being late in the evening 
when they arrived there, no efforts could be made that night to 
overtake the captors and their prisoners, but with the first streaks 
of dawn on the following morning a party set out with a view of 
rescuing the prisoners and at the same time to visit condign 
punishment upon their captors. Upon reaching the spot where the 
capture had occurred, to their horror and dismay they found that the 
tragedy, which all along they had apprehended, had been accomplished. 
They found the oldest girl - Elizabeth - still living, but fatally 
wounded. A little distance from where Elizabeth lay writhing in her 
pain were found the dead bodies of the two other sisters - Catherine 
and Susan. Elizabeth retained sufficient vitality to give an 
intelligible account of the incident of their surprise and capture, 
together with the details of the affair subsequent thereto, and the 
treatment which had been accorded them by the savages and the 
renegade Spicer. She survived until the third day after the event 
when she expired. The remains of the three were buried on the farm 
hereinbefore mentioned.
 
Several years after the happening of this occurrence, when the 
brother we have alluded to had grown to manhood, the renegade Spicer 
and one of the same Indians who had been an actor in the cold-blooded 
murder of innocent and helpless females, one day came along and 
stopped at the house of the father of the murdered girls. The family 
had just sounded the tin horn announcing the noon repast, and the 
father, and a number of neighbors who had been engaged in a log-
rolling, were leisurely strolling along toward the house at an easy 
gait when an Indian and white man, each of whom were on a horse, 
passed them, and reaching the house in advance of them, dismounted 
and demanded of the inmates a drink of milk. Christina, who, at the 
time, was engaged in the kitchen lifting the dinner, heard the 
demand, and looking in the direction from which the voice proceeded, 
caught sight of the visitors. No sooner had her gaze fallen upon them 
than she rushed after her mother, who had started to get them some 
milk, crying out in anguished tones, "Those are two of the men who 
killed my sisters, don't give them any." Upon hearing which the two 
thereupon hurriedly re-mounted their horses and left before the men 
had reached the house. After the arrival of these latter, Christina 
related to them the circumstance, and assured them that she well knew 
Spicer and his companion and that she could not be mistaken, and 
positively asserted that they were two of the three who, years 
before, had taken herself and her sisters prisoners. Convinced by the 
positive assurances of the girl, on whose memory was daguerreotyped 
with fearful distinctiveness the identity of the actors on that 
occasion, Crow, the father, and a man by the name of Dickerson, left 
the table at the same time and, went aside to consult. The result of 
their deliberation was soon made manifest. Leaving the house they 
arranged between themselves that if they were successful in 
overtaking them Dickerson was to kill Spicer and Crow was to kill the 
Indian. Being well acquainted with the country they determined to 
take a route along the summits of the hills, by which they could gain 
both in time and distance, and speedily overtake their prey unless 
they had ridden at an unusually rapid pace. This proved to be the 
case, for apprehensive of being followed, they had pressed forward at 
the highest speed of their animals. The pursuit was therefore 
lengthened to a greater distance than had been anticipated. But the 
spirit of revenge had been awakened in the bosoms of their pursuers, 
who determined not to give up the chase until it was gratified. 
Hence, they continued on their course, taking advantage of every 
short cut which opened to them, following them to the head of 
Wheeling creek where they discovered their fresh trail, which they 
followed down Dunkard's creek to near the waters of the Monongahela. 
Here they lost the trail in the darkness which had fallen upon them, 
and they camped out for the night. The next day, on coming back along 
the stream, they found the lost trail of the night before, on 
exploring which they found the spot where they had camped the 
preceding night, the evidences of their presence there having been 
made known by their tracks and the smouldering embers of the fire 
which had been kindled by them. Our informant states that the Indian 
and Spicer succeeded in  eluding their pursuers, and that nothing 
more was ever heard of them.
 
But from another source, which is esteemed by us to be perfectly 
reliable and trustworthy, we learn that upon the return of Crow and 
and Dickerson from the pursuit, when inquiry was made of them as to 
the result of their expedition, their reticence on the subject was 
marked, and their replies were generally formulated in such a manner 
as to convey the impression that their pursuit had not been in vain 
and unattended with results, as, for instance, when pressed, they 
would say in terms "that they did not believe that they would trouble 
that section of the country any more." 

The general opinion which was prevalent among the friends and 
neighbors was, that they had succeeded in overtaking them and 
accomplished their mission, and that both Spicer and the Indian slept 
their last sleep, from which they would only awake at the sound of 
the resurrection trump. At all events, they were not seen nor heard 
of any more in that neighborhood nor elsewhere, so far as any 
information at the time or since could be obtained.
 
As indicative of the feelings entertained by the settlers on the 
frontier in the year 1792, and their exposed and dangerous condition, 
we submit the following memorial of the inhabitants of Middle 
Wheeling, which is a copy of the original in its orthography and 
style. It is headed,    Memorial of Inhabitants of Middle Wheeling ":
                                                     - 
"We the inhabitants of middle Wheeling Now in a distresed and 
dangrous situation Have imbodied ourselves and we are tow weak to 
make a stand without asistens. We your humble petitioners do Pray 
your asistanc in men, arms and ammunition, as we gudge William Craig 
to be the suitable plase for the station, We flatter ourselves that 
you will do Everything that is in your Power, and humbly submits to 
your will In the fair; we your petitioners do pray. 

"Thomas Orr, David Hosack, Thomas Hosack, Samuel Moore, William 
Morrison, James Hosack, James McDonald, Andrew Hannah, Samuel Holmes, 
George Whitehill, William Bohanon, Robert McCoy, Ferdinand Moore, 
Thomas Harpon, William Hults, Andrew White, Devet Howell, William 
McCaskell, Robert Pendergast, George Knox, James Knox, James Steter, 
Hilian Sleater, Hugh McCutcheon, John Brice, William Porter." 

During the spring of this same year Col. Shepherd reported to Col. 
Beard concerning depredations committed by the Indians in his 
vicinity, as shown in the following letter:
 
"Sir:- Last evening two Indians shot at a man within one mile of my 
house and snapped at another in the night. They have also taken two 
boys, sons of James Behanis, living on Middle Wheeling, one of which 
they have killed, the other has got in though he is scalped and badly 
tomahawked. The spies inform me that there is great signs of them on 
Captina and Stillwater. We expect nothing but a general onset; our 
peopele are generally moving to the forts, and seem to be in great 
confusion. I shall give you every information as early as possible, 
and am with   respect your humble servent,    DAVID SHEPHERD."
 
"Col. Beard."

Col. Beard was lieutenant-commandant of Washington county, at the 
time when this letter was written, and Col. Shepherd was lieutenant-
commandant of Ohio county, Va.

During the spring of 1792, one Parron, a famous scout who forted at 
Van Metre on Short creek in Ohio county, Va., in company Abraham 
Cuppy, his son-in-law, started on a scouting expedition on the Ohio 
side of the river, and night coming on they went into camp at the 
mouth of the run known as Parron's run, which empties into Big Short 
creek, camping under a large elm tree, which still stood there a few 
years since. During the night a party of Shawnees on their way to 
make an incursion on the settlements on the opposite or Virginia side 
of the river; attracted by the light of the white men's camp-fire, 
surrounded them while they slept, and firing them, shot Parron 
through the hip, disabling him to such an extent as to prevent him 
from making an effort to escape and hence secured him as a prisoner. 
Young Cuppy made his escape and secreted  himself under the roots of 
a large sycamore three which grew the banks of the creek. His hiding 
place was near enough for him to hear the conversation which passed 
between Parron and the Indians. The Indians who were well acquainted 
with his courage and ability as a scout, determined that he must die 
and favored burning him. But Parron reminded them that he had always 
been an honorable warrior and as a favor asked them to give him the 
tomahawk. His captors held a council among themselves, and after a 
lengthy deliberation concluded to grant the request of their captive, 
whereupon the leader stepped forward to the prostrate man as he laid 
upon the ground unable to rise, and tomahawked and scalped him. After 
this they continued their journey without making any search for 
Cuppy, his companion.
 
The young scout remained in concealment until sufficient time had 
elapsed to place many miles between the Indians and himself before he 
ventured from his hiding place and when he left it he hastened with 
all his speed to make secure his escape, and reaching Fort VanMetre, 
communicated the information of Parron's death. The commander of the 
fort instructed Cuppy to return to the spot where the occurence had 
happened, taking with him a sufficient number of the men in the fort 
to recover and bury the body in a respectable manner. This they 
successfully accomplished. Some seventy or eighty years subsequent to 
this event, some of his descendants disinterred the remains that they 
might be interred in a more suitable resting place. Upon taking them 
up the ball which had disabled him was found imbedded in the hip 
bone. This ball is now in possession of John C. Cuppy, his grandson, 
who also has the buttons which belonged to his coat. 

After the close of the Indian war, Abraham Cuppy settled on Big Short 
creek, on the site now Occupied by Barkis' stone mill. Joshua Meek, 
another celebrated scout of that day, and an intimate friend and 
generally a companion of Parron when on a scout more fortunate than 
his friend, survived the dangers and hardships of Indian warfare, and 
after the withdrawal of the Indians from this section, settled about 
two miles further up Big Short creek from the spot where his friend 
had met with his death. The mound which is pierced by the famous long 
tunnel on the Wheeling & Lake Erie railroad, is located on the land 
formerly occupied by him. He lived on this farm for many years and 
raised his family there. Having lost his wife together with other 
members of his family, and being quite aged and feeble, about the 
year 1850, at the solicitation of his daughter, who resided in 
Tuscarawas county, Ohio, he removed there where he spent the few 
remaining months of his existence, and where he died, honored and 
respected by all who knew him, about the year 1851.
 
Sometime during this year (the exact date of the occurrence we have 
been unable to establish) three young men, one of them the son of 
Capt. Van Swearigen, constituted a party to engage in a hunting 
expedition.  Passing down the river until they reached a point 
opposite to where Short creek emptied into the Ohio, they crossed 
that stream and started up the valley of the creek, hunting as they 
traveled along. For some time past no depredations had been committed 
by the Indians in that immediate vicinity. This inspired them with a 
feeling of security which induced them to believe that no harm would 
befall them. It was a day full of sunshine, and nature was arrayed in 
her loveliest garb and the woods were alive with the warblings of the 
feathered songsters, just such a day as speaks in its quiet calm of 
peace and joy to the heart of man. But the soothing influences of the 
scene and hour were rudely broken in upon and the fair picture was 
speedily changed into one of blood and death. They had penetrated 
along the banks of the creek at no great distance, when they were 
suddenly beset by a party of Indians, who fired in rapid succession 
upon the unsuspecting whites. The result was the killing of young 
Swearingen outright, and so disabling the others that they were 
overtaken and at once dispatched with the tomahawk. Their bodies were 
subsequently all recovered. Some white men on the Ohio side of the 
river sent word to their friends of the discovery of their bodies, 
and a party from Beech Bottom on the Virginia side of the river, 
crossed over and gave them decent sepulture.
 
In the month of August, in the year 1793, occurred the last conflict 
in the upper Ohio valley, which took place between the whites and the 
Indians. Owing to the fact of the frequent incursions and numerous 
depredations of the Indians in that section of the country now 
embraced in Hancock and Brooke counties, the people had become 
greatly exasperated, and it was determined to put an end to them and 
to summarily chastise the intruders. With this in view the whites 
organized a party which was placed under the command of Capt. Lawson 
Van Buskirk. A party of Indians had committed many acts of violence 
and plunder, and the general opinion was that in their retreat they 
would cross the river in the vicinity of Mingo. The Virginia force 
consisted of thirty-eight men, and the Indians numbered twenty-eight 
warriors. The Virginians crossed the river below the mouth of Cross 
creek and marched along the bottom, and finally struck the Indian
trail. They were all veteran Indian fighters, and yet they marched
directly into an ambuscade, and but for a most singular circumstance,
they would have been slaughtered to a man. They marched in Indian
file, with Captain Buskirk at their head. The ambush quartered on
their flank, and they were totally unsuspicious of it. The plan of
the ambush was skillfully laid. It was to permit the whites to
advance in number's along the line before firing upon them. This
was done, but instead of each Indian selecting a man at whom to
fire, every gun was directed at the captain, who was shot dead -
thirteen bullet holes having been found on his body. The whites
and Indians instantly treed and the battle was prolonged for 
more than an hour. It was ascertained that some Indians were killed 
and some wounded; but they retreated and carried with them both their 
killed and wounded. Except in the death of Buskirk the whites were 
but little injured.
 
The falling into this ambuscade was so out of character with the 
wariness and caution of the Indian hunters, that it was accounted for 
in a melancholy incident of previous occurrence. In the summer of 
1792, one year before, two Indians crossed the Ohio in the night and 
landed under the narrows immediately below the new village of 
Wellsburg. The village at that time consisted of five or six cabins. 
Capt. Buskirk resided about three miles from the point where the 
Indians landed, directly in the country in the neighborhood of 
several plantations. In the forenoon of the day, Mrs. Buskirk set out 
on horseback to visit a neighbor who resided in the direction of, and 
near to, the river. In a short time the horse came running furiously 
home, showing the great terror which the domestic animals of that day 
evinced at the sight of Indians. The truth was instantly understood 
by Capt. Van Buskirk. The neighbors were alarmed and as Mrs. Van 
Buskirk was not found on the road she had set out to travel, the 
conclusion was certain that she had been made a prisoner by the 
Indians. To attempt direct pursuit it was well known would lead to 
her immediate death. The plan of operations was soon determined upon. 
Individuals collected and explored the river, and as they expected, 
found the canoe belonging to the Indians. No doubt was entertained, 
but they would approach it in the night. Watchers were stationed at 
several of the most convenient points of approach for the purpose of 
rescuing Mrs. Van Buskirk and destroying her captors. This failed in 
consequence of the indiscretion of one individual who, upon 
perceiving the Indians approach, with Mrs. Van Buskirk in company, 
made some alarm that apprised the Indians of their danger. They at 
once returned up the hill, and the whites, out of regard to the 
safety of Mrs. Van Buskirk, deemed it imprudent to pursue until 
morning. The trail was then taken, and Mrs. Van Buskirk was found 
murdered and scalped about a mile from the river. Her ankle was 
dislocated, and it was supposed that this, rendering her unable to 
travel, was the cause of her being put to death. Both of the Indians 
were successful in escaping from their pursuers.
 
This sad catastrophe exasperated Capt. Van Buskirk almost to frenzy, 
and inflamed him with an insatiable thirst for vengeance. Goaded by 
this feeling and deeply excited by a hope of its speedy 
gratification, it was supposed, rendered him incautious and 
unobservant of facts, that would not in any other state of mind have 
escaped him, and thus he rushed to his own destruction. The murder of 
Mrs. Van Buskirk was the last atrocity committed by the Indians east 
of the Ohio, from Pittsburgh to Marietta.