Forest and Frontiers; Or, Adventures Among the Indians by Roualeyn Gordon-Cumming (learn to read activity book .TXT) 📕

rather shot a lion, which I had most certainly done if my Hottentot had not destroyed my contemplation.


Attacks on Brookfield and Deerfield.

The early settlers of New England did not suffer much from the hostility of the Indians, until the breaking out of King Philip's war, in 1675. Philip was the son of Massasoit, who was the friend of the English from the time of the landing of the pilgrims until the day of his death. Offended at the manner in which the English behaved towards his brother, Alexander, Philip resolved upon a war of extermination, and, for this purpose, he united nearly all the New England tribes. The war was very destructive to the whites, though it ended in the total overthrow of the Indian power.

One of the first places attacked was the town of Brookfield, Massachusetts. Upon receiving intelligence that Philip had begun hostilities, the inhabitants all collected in one large house. Captains Wheeler and Hutchinson went into the country of the Nipmucks, to treat with them, but they, instigated by Philip, fired upon the party of whites, killed eight men and mortally wounded Captain Hutchinson. The rest fled to Brookfield, pursued by the Indians. The inhabitants were now surrounded by a host of foes, who burned every house in the place, except the one in which the people and soldiers were collected. Here they directed their whole force. Upon this house they poured a storm of musket balls for about two days. Countless numbers pierced through the walls, yet only one person was killed. Brands and rags dipped in brimstone were thrust against the house with long poles. The Indians shot arrows, tipped with fire, upon the roof. They loaded a cart with flax and tow, and with long poles fastened together, pushed it against the house. Destruction seemed inevitable, the house was kindling. The bold and resolute settlers were beginning to give up all hope, when a sudden and providential fall of rain quenched the flames.

The savages yelled with the fury of disappointment, and resorted to other schemes for the destruction of the house and its inmates. In all probability, they would have succeeded in effecting their object; but on the 4th of August, Major Willard, with a party of troops, appeared, and attacked the besiegers. The conflict was soon decided. The Indians never could withstand an equal number of whites in a fair field. They now gave way, after suffering a great loss. The people of Brookfield were thus happily delivered from their savage foe. But their houses were burned, and stock destroyed.

The next place attacked was Deerfield, upon the Connecticut river, which experienced the horror of Indian atrocity several times during the course of the war. The town was first attacked in September, 1675, when most of the houses were burned, and some of the inhabitants killed. At Deerfield, there were three thousand bushels of wheat in stock, which it was resolved to bring to the general magazine at Hadley. Captain Lathrop, with ninety men, guarded the teams employed in this service. On the way, they were assaulted by about seven hundred Indians. Few of the whites escaped. They fought bravely, and killed a great many of the Indians, but were nearly all slain. Captain Mosely marched from Deerfield to reinforce Captain Lathrop. Arriving too late, he was compelled to sustain the onset of the whole force of the enemy, until Major Treat came to his relief, and put the Indians to flight.

In the early part of February, a large body of Indians attempted to surprise Deerfield by night. But the inhabitants were alarmed and prepared, and after a short conflict succeeded in driving off the savages. Soon after a party of whites from Deerfield attacked a party of Indians in a swamp, near that town, and killed one hundred and twenty of them. But the whites, on their return, were waylaid, and as they had expended all their ammunition they fell an easy prey. Fifty were killed and eighty-four wounded. Such were the horrors of King Philip's war.

Attack on Mrs. Scraggs's House.

On the night of the 11th of April, 1787, the house of the widow Scraggs, in Bourbon county, Kentucky, was attacked by the Indians. The widow occupied what is called double cabin, one room of which was tenanted by the old lady herself, together with two grown sons and a widowed daughter, who was at that time suckling an infant, while the other was occupied by two unmarried daughters, from sixteen to twenty years of age, together with a little girl, not more than half grown.

The hour was eleven o'clock at night. One of the unmarried daughters was still busily engaged at the loom, but the other members of the family, with the exception of one of the sons, had retired to rest. Some symptoms of an alarming nature had engaged the attention of the young man for an hour before any thing of a decided character took place. The cry of owls was heard in the adjoining wood, answering each other in rather an unusual manner. The horses which were enclosed as usual in a pound near the house were more than commonly their excited, and by repeated snorting and galloping, announced the presence of some object of terror. The young man was often upon the point of awakening his brother, but was as often restrained by the fear of incurring ridicule and their reproach of timidity, at that time an unpardonable blemish in the character of a Kentuckian. At length, hasty steps were heard in the yard, and quickly afterwards several knocks at the door, accompanied by the usual exclamation, "who keeps house?" in very good English.

The young man, supposing from the language, that some benighted settlers were at the door, hastily arose and advancing to withdraw the bar which secured it, when his mother, who had long lived upon the frontiers, and had probably detected the Indian tone in the demand for admission, sprung out of bed, and ordered her son not to admit them, declaring that they were Indians. She instantly awakened her other son, and the two young men seizing their guns, which were always charged, prepared to repel the enemy.

The Indians finding it impossible to enter under their assumed characters, began to thunder at the door with great violence, but a single shot from a loophole, compelled them to shift the attack to some less exposed point; and, unfortunately, they discovered the door of the other cabin, which contained the three daughters. The rifles of the brothers could not be brought to bear upon this point, and by means of several rails taken from the yard fence, the door was forced from its hinges and the three girls were at the mercy of the savage. One was immediately secured, but the eldest defended herself desperately with a knife which she had been using in the loom, and stabbed one of the Indians to the heart, before she was tomahawked.

In the meantime the little girl, who had been overlooked by the enemy in their eagerness to secure the others, ran out into the yard, and might have effected her escape had she taken advantage of the darkness and fled, but instead of that the terrified little creature ran round the house wringing her hands, and crying out that her sisters were killed. The brothers, unwilling to hear her cries without risking every thing for her rescue, rushed to the door and were preparing to sally out to her assistance, when their mother threw herself before them and calmly declared that the child must be abandoned to its fate—that the sally would sacrifice the lives of the rest without the slightest benefit to the little girl. Just then the child uttered a loud scream, followed by a faint moan, and all was again silent. Presently the crackling of flames was heard, accompanied by a triumphant yell from the Indians, announcing that they had set fire to that division of the house which had been occupied by the daughters, and of which they had undisputed possession.

The fire was quickly communicated to part of the building, it became necessary to abandon it or perish in the flames. In the one case, there was a possibility that some might escape; in the other, their fate would be equally certain and terrible. The rapid approach of the flames cut short their momentary suspense. The door was thrown open, just as some of the Indians began to enter the house through a breach made by the fire. The old lady, supported by her eldest son, attempted to cross the fence at one point, while the other son carried his sister and her son in another direction.

The old lady was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but in the act of crossing, received several balls in the breast and fell dead. Her son, providentially, remained unhurt, and by extraordinary agility effected his escape. The other party succeeded also in reaching the fence unhurt, but in the act of crossing, were vigorously assailed by several Indians, who throwing down their guns, rushed upon them with their tomahawks. The young man defended his sister gallantly, firing upon the enemy as they approached, and then wielding the butt of his rifle with a fury that drew the whole attention upon himself, and gave his sister an opportunity of effecting her escape. He quickly fell, however, under the tomahawk of his enemies, and was found at daylight, scalped and mangled in a shocking manner. Of the whole family, consisting of eight persons, when the attack commenced, only three escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one, the second daughter, carried off a prisoner.

The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and by daylight about thirty men were assembled under the command of Colonel Edwards. A slight snow had fallen during the latter part of the night, and the Indian trail could be pursued at a gallop. It led directly into the mountainous country bordering on Licking, and afforded evidences of great hurry and precipitation on the part of the fugitives. Unfortunately, a hound had been permitted to accompany the whites, and as the trail became fresh and the scent warm, she followed it with eagerness, baying loudly and giving the alarm to the Indians.

The consequences of this imprudence were soon displayed. The enemy finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving that the strength of the prisoner began to fail, sunk their tomahawks in her head and left her, still warm and bleeding upon the snow. As the whites came up, she retained strength enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, and appeared desirous of giving them some information, with regard to the enemy, but her strength was too far gone. Her brother sprung from his horse, and knelt by her side, endeavoring to stop the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttering some inarticulate words, and expired within two minutes after the arrival of the party.

The pursuit was renewed with additional ardor, and in twenty minutes the enemy was within view. They had taken possession of a steep narrow ridge and seemed desirous of magnifying their numbers in the eyes of the whites, as they ran rapidly from tree to tree, and maintained a steady yell in their most appalling tones. The pursuers, however, were too experienced to be deceived by so common an artifice, and being satisfied that the number of the enemy must be inferior to their own, they dismounted, tied their horses, and flanking out in such a manner as to enclose the enemy, ascended the ridge as rapidly as was consistent with a due regard to the shelter of their persons. The firing quickly commenced, and now for the first time they discovered that only two Indians were opposed to them. They had voluntarily sacrificed themselves for the safety of the main body, and had succeeded in delaying pursuit until their friends had reached the mountains. One of them was shot dead, and the other was badly wounded, as was evident from the blood upon his blanket, as well as that which filled his tracks in the snow for a considerable distance. The pursuit was recommenced, and urged keenly until night, when the trail entered a running stream and was lost. On the following morning the snow had melted, and every trace of the enemy was obliterated.

Fearful Adventure with a man-eating lion.

The following is Mr. Cumming's account of a fearful adventure, in which he lost one of his most valuable servants:

On the 29th we arrived at a small village of Bakalahari. These natives told me that elephants were abundant on the opposite side of the river. I accordingly resolved to halt here and hunt, and drew my wagons up on the river's bank, within thirty yards of the water, and about one hundred yards from the native village. Having outspanned, we at once set about making for the cattle a kraal of the worst description of thorn trees. Of this I had now