"May it please your honor:—
"I am Obligd to advertize the Inhabitance of Cumberland county in yr honour's Name, nott to barter or Sell Spiretus Liquers to the Indians or any person to bring amongst them, to prevent ye Indians from Spending there Cloase, tho' I am obligd to give them a kag Now and then my self for a frolick, but that is Atended with no Expence to ye Government, nor no bad consequences to ye Indians as I do itt butt onst a Month. I hope your honour will approve of this Proceeding, as I have Don itt to Prevent ill consequences atending ye Indians if they should be Kept always Infleamd with Liquors."
In September, 1754, notwithstanding the precautions taken by the government to conciliate the Indians by profuse presents, and immediately after Conrad Weiser, the Indian interpreter, and Crogan, had held a conference at Aughwick, which it was supposed had terminated satisfactorily to all parties concerned, an Indian, named Israel, of the Six Nations, after leaving the conference, perpetrated a brutal murder in Tuscarora Valley. The following is Crogan's report of it to government:—
Aughwick, September 17, 1754.
May it please Your Honor:—
Since Mr. Weiser left this, an Indian of the Six Nations, named Israel, killed one Joseph Cample, an Indian trader, at the house of one Anthony Thompson, at the foot of the Tuscarora Valley, near Parnall's Knob. As soon as I heard it I went down to Thompson's, and took several of the chiefs of the Indians with me, when I met William Maxwell, Esq. The Indian made his escape before I got there. I took the qualification of the persons who were present at the murder, and delivered them to Mr. Maxwell, to be sent to your honor, with the speech made by the chiefs of the Indians on that occasion, which I suppose your honor has received.
I have heard many accounts from Ohio since Mr. Weiser left this, all of which agree that the French have received a reinforcement of men and provision from Canada to the fort. An Indian returned yesterday to this place whom I had sent to the fort for intelligence; he confirms the above accounts, and further says there were about sixty French Indians had come while he stayed there, and that they expected better than two hundred more every day. He says that the French design to send those Indians with some French, in several parties, to annoy the back settlements, which the French say will put a stop to any English forces marching out this fall to attack them. This Indian likewise says that the French will do their endeavor to have the half-king Scarrayooday, Captain Montour, and myself, killed this fall. This Indian, I think, is to be believed, if there can be any credit given to what an Indian says. He presses me strongly to leave this place, and not live in any of the back parts. The scheme of sending several parties to annoy the back settlements seems so much like French policy that I can't help thinking it true.
I hear from Colonel Innes that there certainly have been some French Indians at the camp at Wills's Creek, who fired on the sentry in the dead of the night. If the French prosecute this scheme, I don't know what will become of the back parts of Cumberland county, which is much exposed. The back parts of Virginia and Maryland are covered by the English camp, so that most of the inhabitants are safe.
I would have written to your honor before now on this head; I only waited the return of this Indian messenger, whose account I really think is to be depended on. The Indians here seem very uneasy at their long stay, as they have heard nothing from the Governor of Virginia nor of your honor since Mr. Weiser went away; nor do they see the English making any preparations to attack the French, which seems to give them a great deal of concern. I believe several of the Indians will soon go to the Six Nation country, and then, I suppose, the rest will be obliged to fall in with the French. If this happens, then all the back settlements will be left to the mercy of an outrageous enemy.
I beg your honor's pardon for mentioning the consequences which must certainly attend the slow motion of the English government, as they are well known to your honor, and I am sensible your honor had done all in your power for the security of those parts. I hope as soon as his honor, Governor Morris, is arrived, I shall hear what is to be done with those Indians. I assure your honor it will not be in my power to keep them together much longer.
I am your honor's most humble and most obedient servant,
Geo. Crogan.
The Indian Israel was arrested, taken to Philadelphia, and tried, but, in consequence of the critical situation of affairs, the French having tampered with the Six Nations until they were wavering, he was let off, returned to his tribe, and the matter smoothed over as best it could under the circumstances.
The number of Indians under Crogan at Braddock's defeat was thirty; but what part they performed on that eventful day was not recorded. That Crogan and his Indians were of some service would appear from the fact that the Assembly passed a law exempting him from arrests—for debt, it is supposed—for ten years, and commissioning him a captain in the colonial service.
The supposition that Crogan was a spy in the pay of the French was based upon the idea that he was a Roman Catholic, inasmuch as he was born in Dublin. His loyalty was first brought into question by Governor Sharpe, in December, 1753, who wrote to Governor Hamilton, informing him that the French knew every move for defence made in the colonies, and asked his opinion of Crogan. In answer, Governor Hamilton said:—
I observe what you say of Mr. Crogan; and, though the several matters of which you have received information carry in them a good deal of suspicion, and it may be highly necessary to keep a watchful eye upon him, yet I hope they will not turn out to be any thing very material, or that will effect his faithfulness to the trust reposed in him, which, at this time, is of great importance and a very considerable one. At present I have no one to inquire of as to the truth of the particulars mentioned in yours but Mr. Peters, who assures me that Mr. Crogan has never been deemed a Roman Catholic, nor does he believe that he is one, though he knows not his education, which was in Dublin, nor his religious profession.
Whatever Mr. Crogan's religious faith may have been, he paid much less attention to it than he did to Indian affairs; and that he was deeply devoted to the proprietary government is evident from his subsequent career. To keep the Indians loyal, he advanced many presents to them, as appears by Governor Morris's letter to Governor Hardy, for which he never was reimbursed; and the company of Indians he commanded was fitted out at his own expense; and it was the attempt to get what he advanced on that occasion that led to his quarrel with the commissioners and his resignation.
From Philadelphia he went to Onondago, in September, 1756, and soon after was appointed deputy-agent of Indian affairs by Sir William Johnston. On his arrival in Philadelphia, his appointment was announced to the council by Governor Denny.
"The council, knowing Mr. Crogan's circumstances, was not a little surprised at the appointment, and desired to see his credentials;" which he produced, and again took an active part in Indian affairs.
After the French had evacuated Fort Duquesne, in 1758, Crogan resided for a time in Fort Pitt. From there he went down the river, was taken prisoner by the French, and taken to Detroit. From thence he returned to New York, where he died in 1782.
On the 6th of October, 1754, the reigning chief of Aughwick, called Tanacharrisan, or Half-King, died at Paxton. In communicating his death to the governor, John Harris said:—
Those Indians that are here blame the French for his death, by bewitching him, as they had a conjurer to inquire into the cause a few days before he died; and it is his opinion, together with his relations, that the French have been the cause of their great man's death, by reason of his striking them lately; for which they seem to threaten immediate revenge, and desire me to let it be known.
The loss of the Half-King must have been a severe affliction to his tribe, for it appears by a letter of Crogan's that he was compelled to "wipe away their tears to the amount of thirty pounds fourteen shillings:"
Scarroyady [1] succeeded the Half-King in the administration of affairs at Aughwick. He was a brave and powerful chief, and possessed the most unbounded influence among the Indians. Governor Morris, in a speech, previously approved by council, made to Scarroyady and some Indians accompanying him, said:—
"Brethren:—For the encouragement of you and all who will join you in the destruction of our enemies, I propose to give the following bounties or rewards, viz.: for every male Indian prisoner above twelve years old that shall be delivered at any of the government's forts or towns, one hundred and fifty dollars.
"For every female Indian prisoner or male prisoner of twelve years old and under, delivered as above, one hundred and thirty dollars.
"For the scalp of every male Indian of above twelve years old, one hundred and thirty dollars.
"For the scalp of every Indian woman, fifty dollars."
Let this fixed price for scalps not stand upon the pages of history as a stigma against the peaceable and non-resistant Quakers of the province; for, at the time these bounties were offered, John and Thomas Penn had abjured the habits, customs, and religion of that people.
Fort Shirley was built in Aughwick Valley in the fall of 1755, and the winter following Crogan resigned his commission, after which the command was given to Captain Hugh Mercer.
Tradition says that one or two very serious battles were fought in Aughwick, after Fort Shirley was erected; but the accounts of them are so vague that we can give nothing like reliable information touching them.
In January, 1756, two Indians named Lackin, brothers, who professed to be friendly, came to what was then still called Crogan's Fort. The commander of the fort made them some few trifling presents, and plied them well with rum, when they promised to bring in a large number of prisoners and scalps. On leaving the fort, they fell in with a soldier, whom they invited to accompany them a short distance and they would give him some rum. To this the soldier assented, and, after getting out of sight of the fort, one of them suddenly turned and stabbed the soldier in the side with a scalping-knife. A man passing at the time of the occurrence immediately alarmed the garrison, and a posse of thirteen men sallied out; but when they came up near the Indians the latter suddenly turned and fired upon the soldiers, wounding one of them in the thigh. The savages were then surrounded, and one of them shot; the other they attempted to take to the fort alive, but he acted so outrageously that one of the soldiers beat his brains out with the stock of his musket. The Lackins were rather worthless fellows, and it required no wampum, or even coin, to dry up the tears of their friends.
Fort Shirley was abandoned for a while after the burning of Fort Granville, by order of Governor Morris, but the importance of the point prevented it from standing idle long. We hear of some few murders committed near the Three Springs of the valley at a later day, but no attack was made in the neighborhood during the second Indian war, as the entire valley was well protected by the friendly Indians of the Six Nations.
The Delawares and Shawnees, or at least a great portion of them, left the valley in 1754-55-56, and before 1761 all had disappeared. But to the friendly Indian the beautiful Aughwick was a favorite haunt until the Anglo-Saxon fairly ploughed and harrowed him out of his home and his hunting-grounds. The last of the Six Nations left Aughwick for Cattaraugus in 1771.
The earliest settlement on the Raystown Branch of the Juniata was made by a man named Ray, in 1751, who built three cabins near where Bedford now stands. In 1755 the province agreed to open a wagon-road from Fort Louden, in Cumberland county, to the forks of the Youghiogheny River. For this purpose three hundred men were sent up, but for some cause or other the project was abandoned.
This road was completed in 1758, when the allied forces of Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania marched against Fort Duquesne, under General John Forbes. About the same year the fort was built at Raystown, and called Fort Bedford. Colonels Boquet and Washington first marched to Bedford with the advance, and were followed by General Forbes, who had been detained by illness at Carlisle. The successful troops that put to rout the French without striking a blow, amounting to 7850 men, were reviewed, where Bedford now stands, a little over ninety-seven years ago. Of the triumphant march and the bloodless victory of General Forbes and Colonels Boquet and Washington there is little use in speaking here, more than incidentally mentioning that, profiting by the dear-bought experience at Braddock's defeat, the suggestion of Washington to fight the savages after their own manner was adopted, and, after defeating them in several skirmishes, the Indians fled before them like chaff before the wind, and when they reached Fort Duquesne the name and the fort alone remained. The latter was preserved, but the former was speedily changed to Fort Pitt.
Colonel Armstrong, whose name has already frequently appeared, served as a captain in the expedition under General Forbes against Fort Duquesne. It may also be as well to remember that Colonel Washington, as well as the Virginians generally, jealous of the Pennsylvanians gaining a footing in the Monongahela country, violently opposed the cutting of the road from Raystown to the mouth of the Yough, and urged strongly upon Forbes the propriety of using the old Braddock trail. The decision of General Forbes procured for the people of Pennsylvania a wagon-road over the Alleghany at least twenty years before the inhabitants would have entertained the idea of so formidable an undertaking. Armstrong wrote to Richard Peters, under date of "Raystown, October 3, 1758," from whose letter we extract the following:—
Since our Quixotic expedition you will, no doubt, be greatly perplexed about our fate. God knows what it may be; but, I assure you, the better part of the troops are not at all dismayed. The general came here at a critical and seasonable juncture; he is weak, but his spirit is good and his head clear, firmly determined to proceed as far as force and provisions will admit, which, through divine favor, will be far enough. The road to be opened from our advanced post is not yet fully determined, and must be further reconnoitered: 'tis yet a query whether the artillery will be carried forward with the army when within fifteen or twenty miles of the fort or not. The order of march and line of battle is under consideration, and there are many different opinions respecting it. Upon this the general will have a conference with the commanders of the sundry corps. About four thousand five hundred are yet fit for duty, five or six hundred of which may be laid to the account of keeping of different posts, sickness, accidents, &c. We know not the number of the enemy, but they are greatly magnified, by report of sundry of the people with Major Grant, to what we formerly expected. The Virginians are much chagrined at the opening of the road through this government, and Colonel Washington has been a good deal sanguine and obstinate upon the occasion; but the presence of the general has been of great use on this as well as other accounts. We hear that three hundred wagons are on the road. If this month happens to be dry weather, it will be greatly in our favor. My people are in general healthy, and are to be collected together immediately, except such as are posted on the communication and in the artillery. Many of them will be naked by the end of the campaign, but I dare not enter upon clothing them, not knowing who or how many of the troops may be continued. Colonel B——t is a very sensible and useful man; notwithstanding, had not the general come up, the consequences would have been dangerous. Please to make my compliments to Mr. Allen, and, if you please, show him this letter, as I have not a moment longer to write. About the last of this month will be the critical hour. Every thing is vastly dear with us, and the money goes like old boots. The enemy are beginning to kill and carry off horses, and every now and then scalp a wandering person.
I leave this place to-day, as does Colonel Boquet and some pieces of the artillery.
In 1763, Fort Bedford was the principal depôt for military stores between Carlisle and Fort Pitt. In order to strengthen it, the command was given to Captain Ourry, and the small stockades at the Juniata Crossing and Stony Creek were abandoned and the force concentrated at Bedford. By this means two volunteer companies were formed to guard the fort, which, besides being a refuge for the distressed families for ten or fifteen miles around, contained vast quantities of ammunition and other government stores.
In 1763, Colonel Boquet again passed up the Raystown Branch with two regiments of regulars and a large convoy of military stores, to relieve the beleaguered garrison at Fort Pitt. He found matters in a deplorable condition at Fort Bedford. The Indians, although they had never made an attack upon the fort, had for weeks been hovering around the frontier settlements, and had killed, scalped, or taken prisoner, no less than eighteen persons. This induced Colonel Boquet to leave two companies of his army at Bedford.
The names of the persons killed or taken prisoners at that time are not recorded, and, we regret to say, few of any of the particulars connected therewith have been preserved.
The town of Bedford was laid out by John Lukens, the surveyor-general, in 1766, and took its name (in honor of the Duke of Bedford) from the fort. The town for many years was the most prominent point between Carlisle and Pittsburg. The county was formed out of Cumberland, in 1771, and embraced a vast extent of territory, from which Huntingdon, Mifflin, Cambria, Somerset, Westmoreland, Fulton, and Indiana, were subsequently taken.
During the Revolutionary war, the town of Bedford proper, as well as the surrounding country, was so well settled that the Indians kept a respectful distance. On Yellow Creek, one of the tributaries of Raystown Branch, settlements were made at an early day; also in the Great Cove. During the Revolution, Colonel John Piper, of Yellow Creek, was the lieutenant-colonel of the county, and George Ashman lieutenant, and James Martin, Edward Combs, and Robert Culbertson, were sub-lieutenants.
Colonel James Smith, whose narrative has been published in several works, was taken by the Indians in 1755, near Bedford. He was taken to Fort Duquesne, and was there when the victorious Frenchmen and savages returned with the scalps and plunder taken from Braddock's vanquished army. After undergoing some severe trials, such as running the gauntlet, &c., Smith was taken to Ohio, and, after a ceremony of baptizing, painting, and hair-pulling, he was adopted, as a warrior "in good standing," into the Conowaga tribe. No other resort being left, as a measure of self-defence he adopted the manners and customs of the tribe, and wandered over the West with them until an opportunity offered to escape; which did not occur until he reached Montreal, in 1760, when he obtained his freedom in the general exchange of prisoners which took place.
In 1765, Smith figured conspicuously in Bedford county, as the leader of the celebrated band of "Black Boys," whose singular and summary administration of justice bore a marked affinity to the code sometimes adopted by that worthy disseminator of criminal jurisprudence in the West,—"Judge Lynch." Of the exploits of the famous Black Boys Smith speaks as follows:—
Shortly after this (1764) the Indians stole horses and killed some people on the frontiers. The king's proclamation was then circulating, and set up in various public places, prohibiting any person from trading with the Indians until further orders.
Notwithstanding all this, about the 1st of March, 1765, a number of wagons, loaded with Indian goods and warlike stores, were sent from Philadelphia to Henry Pollens, Conococheague; and from thence seventy pack-horses were loaded with these goods, in order to carry them to Fort Pitt. This alarmed the country, and Mr. William Duffield raised about fifty armed men, and met the pack-horses at the place where Mercersburg now stands. Mr. Duffield desired the employers to store up their goods and not proceed until further orders. They made light of this, and went over the North Mountain, where they lodged in a small valley called the Great Cove. Mr. Duffield and his party followed after, and came to their lodging, and again urged them to store up their goods. He reasoned with them on the impropriety of their proceedings and the great danger the frontier inhabitants would be exposed to if the Indians should now get a supply. He said as it was well known that they had scarcely any ammunition, and were almost naked, to supply them now would be a kind of murder, and would be illegally trading at the expense of the blood and treasure of the frontiers. Notwithstanding his powerful reasoning, these traders made game of what he said, and would only answer him by ludicrous burlesque.
When I beheld this, and found that Mr. Duffield could not compel them to store up their goods, I collected ten of my old warriors that I had formerly disciplined in the Indian way, went off privately after night, and encamped in the woods. The next day, as usual, we blacked and painted, and waylaid them near Sideling Hill. I scattered my men about forty rods along the side of the road, and ordered every two to take a tree, and about eight or ten rods between each couple, with orders to keep a reserved fire—one not to fire until his comrade had loaded his gun. By this means we kept a constant slow fire upon them, from front to rear. We then heard nothing of these traders' merriment or burlesque. When they saw their pack-horses falling close by them, they called out, "Pray, gentlemen, what would you have us to do?" The reply was, "Collect all your loads to the front, and unload them in one place; take your private property, and immediately retire." When they were gone, we burnt what they left, which consisted of blankets, shirts, vermilion, lead, beads, wampum, tomahawks, scalping-knives, &c.
The traders went back to Fort Louden, and applied to the commanding officer there, and got a party of Highland soldiers, and went with them in quest of the robbers, as they called us; and, without applying to a magistrate or obtaining any civil authority, but purely upon suspicion, they took a number of creditable persons, (who were chiefly not anyway concerned in this action,) and confined them in the guard-house in Fort Louden. I then raised three hundred riflemen, marched to Fort Louden, and encamped on a hill in sight of the fort. We were not long there until we had more than double as many of the British troops prisoners in our camp as they had of our people in the guard-house. Captain Grant, a Highland officer who commanded Fort Louden, then sent a flag of truce to our camp, where we settled a cartel and gave them above two for one; which enabled us to redeem all our men from the guard-house without further difficulty.
This exploit of the Black Boys is supposed to have given Bloody Run its name. Soon after, some British officer wrote an account of the affair and transmitted it to London, where it was published, and from which the following is an extract. "The convoy of eighty horses, loaded with goods, chiefly on His Majesty's account, as presents to the Indians, and part on account of Indian traders, were surprised in a narrow and dangerous defile in the mountains by a body of armed men. A number of horses were killed, and the whole of the goods were carried away by the plunderers. The rivulet was dyed with blood, and ran into the settlement below, carrying with it the stain of crime upon its surface."
Notwithstanding Smith's narrative may have been read by a majority of our readers, we cannot resist the temptation of transferring another graphic picture of frontier life from his work. He says:—
In the year 1769, the Indians again made incursions on the frontiers; yet the traders continued carrying goods and warlike stores to them. The frontiers took the alarm, and a number of persons collected, destroyed, and plundered, a quantity of their powder, lead, &c., in Bedford county. Shortly after this, some of these persons, with others, were apprehended and laid in irons in the guard-house in Fort Bedford, on suspicion of being the perpetrators of this crime.
Though I did not altogether approve of the conduct of this new club of Black Boys, yet I concluded that they should not lie in irons in the guard-house or remain in confinement by arbitrary or military power. I resolved, therefore, if possible, to release them, if they even should be tried by the civil law afterward. I collected eighteen of my old Black Boys that I had seen tried in the Indian war, &c. I did not desire a large party, lest they should be too much alarmed at Bedford, and accordingly be prepared for us. We marched along the public road in daylight, and made no secret of our design. We told those whom we met that we were going to take Fort Bedford, which appeared to them a very unlikely story. Before this, I made it known to one William Thompson, a man whom I could trust, and who lived there. Him I employed as a spy, and sent him along on horseback before, with orders to meet me at a certain place near Bedford one hour before day. The next day, a little before sunset, we encamped near the Crossings of Juniata, about fourteen miles from Bedford, and erected tents, as though we intended staying all night; and not a man in my company knew to the contrary save myself. Knowing that they would hear this in Bedford, and wishing it to be the case, I thought to surprise them by stealing a march.
As the moon rose about eleven o'clock, I ordered my boys to march, and we went on, at the rate of five miles an hour, until we met Thompson at the place appointed. He told us that the commanding officer had frequently heard of us by travellers, and had ordered thirty men upon guard. He said they knew our number, and only made game of the notion of eighteen men coming to rescue the prisoners; but they did not expect us until toward the middle of the day. I asked him if the gate was open. He said it was then shut, but he expected they would open it, as usual, at daylight, as they apprehended no danger. I then moved my men privately up under the banks of the Juniata, where we lay concealed about one hundred yards from the fort gate. I had ordered the men to keep a profound silence until we got into it. I then sent off Thompson again to spy. At daylight he returned and told us that the gate was open, and three sentinels were standing upon the wall; that the guards were taking a morning dram, and the arms standing together in one place. I then concluded to rush into the fort, and told Thompson to run before me to the arms. We ran with all our might; and, as it was a misty morning, the sentinels scarcely saw us until we were within the gate and took possession of the arms. Just as we were entering, two of them discharged their guns, though I do not believe they aimed at us. We then raised a shout, which surprised the town, though some of them were well pleased with the news. We compelled a blacksmith to take the irons off the prisoners, and then we left the place. This, I believe, was the first British fort in America that was taken by what they call American rebels.
For this exploit Smith was arrested, and, in the scuffle which attended the arrest—for he made a powerful resistance,—one of his captors was shot. He was taken to Carlisle and tried for murder; but, having the sympathies of the people with him, he was triumphantly acquitted. He afterward filled several important stations, and for a time served as a colonel in the Revolutionary army in New Jersey. In 1778 he moved to Kentucky, and joined McIntosh in his efforts against the savages. He had evidently imbibed the habits of frontier life so thoroughly that the strict routine of military discipline and its restraints were totally unsuited to his ideas of fighting.
After the year 1769, numerous robberies were committed near Bedford. The robbers taking the precaution to blacken their faces, all their crimes, as well as many others, were charged upon Smith's Black Boys, until they were looked upon as a band of outlaws. Under date of January 26, 1773, John Frazer and George Woods wrote from Bedford to Governor Penn, as follows:—
May it please Your Honor:—
The many robberies that have lately been committed in the eastern parts of this county oblige us to trouble you with this letter.
There are a number of people, who, we suspect, now reside at or near the Sideling Hill, that have been guilty of several highway-robberies, and have taken from different people—travelling on the public road between this place and Carlisle—considerable sums of money; in particular, a certain James McCashlan, of this place, hath made oath before us that he has been robbed of twenty-two pounds and a silver watch. We have already done our endeavor to apprehend the robbers, but have not succeeded, as there can be no positive proof made who they are, on account of their blacking themselves, which renders it impossible for any person robbed to discover or know who are the perpetrators.
We, therefore, pray your honor would take this matter into consideration, and grant us such relief as your honor may seem most reasonable for the safety of the public in general, and in particular for the inhabitants of this county.
These magistrates labored under the conviction that the highwaymen were none else than a portion of Smith's gang of Black Boys; or else why ask government for aid to disperse a few robbers, when men, arms, and ammunition, were plenty in Bedford?
The letter of Frazer and Woods was accompanied by an affidavit from McCashlan, setting forth that he was robbed, and that he had cause to suspect "a certain John Gibson and William Paxton" of committing the robbery. These were two of Smith's Black Boys; but it subsequently appeared that a couple of independent footpads had relieved Mr. McCashlan of his pounds and watch, and not a party of the regular Black Boys, who, no doubt, had sins enough of their own to answer for, without having all the depredations committed in the county placed to their account.
Although we spared no effort to get some account of the Indian massacres near Bedford during the Revolution, we failed, and must content ourself—if we do not our readers—by giving the two following, which we copy from Mr. Day's "Historical Collections:"—
About December, 1777, a number of families came into the fort from the neighborhood of Johnstown. Among them were Samuel Adams, one Thornton, and Bridges. After the alarm had somewhat subsided, they agreed to return to their property. A party started with pack-horses, reached the place, and, not seeing any Indians, collected their property and commenced their return. After proceeding some distance, a dog belonging to one of the party showed signs of uneasiness and ran back. Bridges and Thornton desired the others to wait while they would go back for him. They went back, and had proceeded but two or three hundred yards when a body of Indians, who had been lying in wait on each side of the way, but who had been afraid to fire on account of the number of the whites, suddenly rose up and took them prisoners. The others, not knowing what detained their companions, went back after them. When they arrived near the spot the Indians fired on them, but without doing any injury. The whites instantly turned and fled, excepting Samuel Adams, who took a tree, and began to fight in the Indian style. In a few minutes, however, he was killed, but not without doing the same fearful service for his adversary. He and one of the Indians shot at and killed each other at the same moment. When the news reached the fort a party volunteered to visit the ground. When they reached it, although the snow had fallen ankle-deep, they readily found the bodies of Adams and the Indian, the face of the latter having been covered by his companions with Adams's hunting-shirt.
A singular circumstance also occurred about that time in the neighborhood of the Alleghany Mountain. A man named Wells had made a very considerable improvement, and was esteemed rather wealthy for that region. He, like others, had been forced with his family from his house, and had gone for protection to the fort. In the fall of the year, he concluded to return to his place and dig his crop of potatoes. For that purpose, he took with him six or seven men, an Irish servant girl to cook, and an old plough-horse. After they had finished their job, they made preparations to return to the fort the next day. During the night, Wells dreamed that on his way to his family he had been attacked and gored by a bull; and so strong an impression did the dream make that he mentioned it to his companions, and told them that he was sure some danger awaited them. He slept again, and dreamed that he was about to shoot a deer, and, when cocking his gun, the main-spring broke. In his dream he thought he heard distinctly the crack of the spring when it broke. He again awoke, and his fears were confirmed, and he immediately urged his friends to rise and get ready to start. Directly after he arose he went to his gun to examine it, and, in cocking it, the main-spring snapped off. This circumstance alarmed them, and they soon had breakfast, and were ready to leave. To prevent delay, the girl was put on the horse and started off, and, as soon as it was light enough, the rest followed. Before they had gone far, a young dog, belonging to Wells, manifested much alarm, and ran back to the house. Wells called him, but, after going a short distance, he invariably ran back.
Not wishing to leave him, as he was valuable, he went after him, but had gone only a short distance toward the house, when five Indians rose from behind a large tree that had fallen, and approached him with extended hands. The men who were with him fled instantly, and he would have followed, but the Indians were so close that he thought it useless. As they approached him, however, he fancied the looks of a very powerful Indian, who was nearest him, boded no good, and being a swift runner, and thinking it "neck or nothing" at any rate, determined to attempt an escape. As the Indian approached, he threw at him his useless rifle, and dashed off toward the woods in the direction his companions had gone. Instead of firing, the Indians commenced a pursuit, for the purpose of making him a prisoner, but he outran them. After running some distance, and when they thought he would escape, they all stopped and fired at once, and every bullet struck him, but without doing him much injury or retarding his flight. Soon after this he saw where his companions concealed themselves, and, as he passed, he begged them to fire on the Indians, and save him; but they were afraid, and kept quiet. He continued his flight, and, after a short time, overtook the girl with the horse. She quickly understood his danger, and dismounted instantly, urging him to take her place, while she would save herself by concealment. He mounted, but without a whip, and for want of one could not get the old horse out of a trot. This delay brought the Indians upon him again directly, and as soon as they were near enough they fired—and this time with more effect, as one of the balls struck him in the hip and lodged in his groin. But this saved his life; it frightened the horse into a gallop, and he escaped, although he suffered severely for several months afterward.
The Indians were afterward pursued, and surprised at their morning meal; and, when fired on, four of them were killed, but the other, though wounded, made his escape. Bridges, who was taken prisoner near Johnstown when Adams was murdered, saw him come to his people, and describes him as having been shot through the chest, with leaves stuffed in the bullet-holes to stop the bleeding.
The first white child born in Raystown was William Frazer. When the Revolution broke out, Bedford county furnished two companies, a greater portion of one of the companies being recruited in what now constitutes Huntingdon and Blair counties. Among these were a man named McDonald, another named Fee, from the mouth of Raystown Branch, and George Weston, a brother of the tory shot at Kittaning, and a man named Cluggage.
The town of Bedford was for a long time the residence of General A. St. Clair and a number of others who subsequently figured prominently in the affairs of the nation. For pure patriotism and a willingness to spend their blood and treasure for the cause of liberty, as well as the defence of their brethren on the confines of the county, few towns could excel Bedford, which reflected such credit upon them as will be remembered by the grateful descendants of the frontier-men when history fails to do them justice.
The country between the mouth of the Raystown Branch of the Juniata and what is called the Crossings was thinly settled prior to the Revolution. The land, and general appearance of things, did not strike settlers very favorably; hence it may be assumed that it was only taken up about 1772, when the new-comers from the eastern counties had already taken up the choice tracts lying contiguous to the river.
The first depredation committed on the Branch, near its mouth, by the savages, occurred in May, 1780. A band of roving Indians were known to be in the country, as several robberies had occurred in Hartslog Valley, at houses belonging to men who with their families were forted either at Lytle's or at Huntingdon. A scout had ranged the entire frontier in search of these depredators, but could not find them. They were seen in Woodcock Valley, and information immediately conveyed to the commander at the fort in Huntingdon. A scout was sent to Woodcock Valley, but got upon the wrong trail, as the Indians had crossed the Terrace Mountain, where, it appears, they divided into two parties. One of them went to the house of one Sanders, on the Branch; and just as the family were seating themselves at the table to eat dinner, five of the savages bounded in, and killed Sanders, his wife, and three children. An Englishman and his wife, whose names are not recollected, were in the house at the time, both of whom begged for their lives, declared they were loyal to the king, and would accompany them. The Indians agreed to take them along as prisoners, notwithstanding at that period scalps commanded nearly as high a price as prisoners. The Englishman and his wife were taken to Montreal.
The day following the above massacre, the other party of savages, who it appears had taken the country nearer the Juniata to range through, made their appearance at the house of a Mrs. Skelly, who was sick in bed at the time, and her nearest neighbor, Mrs. Elder, being there on a visit. It was a beautiful May-day Sabbath afternoon, when Mrs. Elder prepared to go home, and Felix Skelly, the son, agreed to accompany her part of the way. They had gone probably a hundred rods through a meadow, when Mrs. Elder noticed a savage, partly concealed behind some elder-bushes. She stopped suddenly, and told Felix, who had got a little in advance, to return, as there were Indians about. Skelly said he thought not, and advised her to come on, or it would be night before he could return. Mrs. Elder stood still, however, and soon saw the figure of the Indian so plainly as not to be mistaken, when she screamed to Felix to run, and, when in the act of turning around, a savage sprang from behind an elder bush into the path, and seized her by the hair. Another seized Skelly, and in a moment the shout of victory went up, and three or four more Indians came from their places of concealment. Finding themselves captives, and unable to remedy matters, they submitted with a good grace.
Fortunately for them, the warrior who had command of the party could speak a little English, and was a little more humane than the generality of savages of the day. He gave Mrs. Elder positive assurance that no harm should befall her. He would not, however, give the same assurance to Skelly. They took up their line of march over the Terrace Mountain, crossed over to the base of the Alleghany, avoiding as much as possible the white settlements, and crossed the mountain by the Kittaning Path.
Skelly, although but seventeen years of age, was an athletic fellow, well built, and weighed in the neighborhood of one hundred and eighty pounds. The Indians, noticing his apparent strength, and in order probably to tire him so that he would make no effort to escape, loaded him down with the plunder they had taken in Hartslog Valley. In addition to this, they found on the Alleghany Mountains some excellent wood for making bows and arrows, a quantity of which they cut and bound together, and compelled Skelly to carry. Mrs. Elder was obliged to carry a long-handled frying-pan, which had been brought all the way from Germany by a Dunkard family, and had, in all probability, done service to three or four generations. Of course, Mrs. Elder, burdened with this alone, made no complaint.
At length the party reached an Indian town on the Alleghany River, where it was determined that a halt should take place in order to recruit. One of the Indians was sent forward to apprise the town of their coming; and on their entering the town they found a large number of savages drawn up in two lines about six feet apart, all armed with clubs or paddles. Skelly was relieved of his load and informed that the performance would open by his being compelled to run the gauntlet. Skelly, like a man without money at one o'clock who has a note to meet in the bank before three, felt the importance and value of time; so, walking leisurely between the lines, he bounded off at a speed that would have done credit to a greyhound, and reached the far end without receiving more than one or two light blows. He was then exempt, as no prisoner was compelled to undergo the same punishment twice.
The Indians, disappointed by the fleetness of Skelly, expected to more than make up for it in pummelling Mrs. Elder; but in this they reckoned without their host. The word was given for her to start, but the warrior who had captured her demurred, and not from disinterested motives, either, as will presently appear. His objections were overruled, and it was plainly intimated that she must conform to the custom. Seeing no method of avoiding it, Mrs. Elder, armed with the long-handled pan, walked between the lines with a determined look. The first savage stooped to strike her, and in doing so his scant dress exposed his person, which Mrs. Elder saw, and anticipated his intention by dealing him a blow on the exposed part which sent him sprawling upon all-fours. The chiefs who were looking on laughed immoderately, and the next four or five, intimidated by her heroism, did not attempt to raise their clubs. Another of them, determined to have a little fun, raised his club; but no sooner had he it fairly poised than she struck him upon the head with the frying-pan in such a manner as in all likelihood made him see more stars than ever lit the "welkin dome." The Indians considered her an Amazon, and she passed through the lines without further molestation; but, as she afterward said, she "did it in a hurry."
The squaws, as soon as she was released, commenced pelting her with sand, pulling her hair, and offering her other indignities, which she would not put up with, and again had recourse to her formidable weapon—the long-handled pan. Lustily she plied it, right and left, until the squaws were right glad to get out of her reach.
In a day or two the line of march for Detroit was resumed, and for many weary days they plodded on their way. After the first day's journey, the warrior who had captured Mrs. Elder commenced making love to her. Her comely person had smitten him; her courage had absolutely fascinated him, and he commenced wooing her in the most gentle manner. She had good sense enough to appear to lend a willing ear to his plaintive outpourings, and even went so far as to intimate that she would become his squaw on their arrival at Detroit. This music was of that kind which in reality had "charms to soothe the savage," and matters progressed finely.
One night they encamped at a small Indian village on the bank of a stream in Ohio. Near the town was an old deserted mill, in the upper story of which Skelly and the rest of the male prisoners were placed and the door bolted. That evening the Indians had a grand dance and a drunken revel, which lasted until after midnight. When the revel ended, Skelly said to his comrades in captivity that he meant to escape if possible. He argued that if taken in the attempt he could only be killed, and he thought a cruel death by the savages would be his fate, at all events, at the end of the journey. They all commenced searching for some means of egress, but none offered, save a window. The sash was removed, when, on looking out into the clear moonlight, to their horror they discovered that they were immediately over a large body of water, which, formed the mill-dam, the distance to it being not less than sixty feet. They all started back but Skelly. He, it appears, had set his heart upon a determined effort to escape, and he stood for a while gazing upon the water beneath him. Every thing was quiet; not a breath of air was stirring. The sheet of water lay like a large mirror, reflecting the pale rays of the moon. In a minute Skelly formed the desperate determination of jumping out of the mill-window.
"Boys," whispered he, "I am going to jump. The chances are against me; I may be killed by the fall, recaptured by the savages and killed, or starve before I reach a human habitation; but then I may escape, and, if I do, I will see my poor mother, if she is still alive, in less than ten days. With me, it is freedom from this captivity now, or death." So saying, he sprang from the window-sill, and, before the affrighted prisoners had time to shrink, they heard the heavy plunge of Skelly into the mill-dam. They hastened to the window, and in an instant saw him emerge from the water unharmed, shake himself like a spaniel, and disappear in the shadow of some tall trees. The wary savage sentinels, a few minutes after the plunge, came down to ascertain the noise, but Skelly had already escaped. They looked up at the window, concluded that the prisoners had amused themselves by throwing something out, and returned to their posts.
The sufferings of Skelly were probably among the most extraordinary ever endured by any mortal man. He supposed that he must have walked at least forty miles before he stopped to rest. He was in a dense forest, and without food. The morning was hazy, and the sun did not make its appearance until about ten o'clock, when, to his dismay, he found he was bearing nearly due south, which would lead him right into the heart of a hostile savage country. After resting a short time, he again started on his way, shaping his course by the sun northeast, avoiding all places which bore any resemblance to an Indian trail. That night was one that he vividly remembered the balance of his life. As soon as it was dark, the cowardly wolves that kept out of sight during the day commenced howling, and soon got upon his track. The fearful proximity of the ravenous beasts, and he without even so much as a knife to defend himself, drove him almost to despair, when he discovered a sort of cave formed by a projecting rock. This evidently was a wolf's den. The hole was quite small, but he forced his body through it, and closed the aperture by rolling a heavy stone against it. Soon the wolves came, and the hungry pack, like a grand chorus of demons, kept up their infernal noise all night. To add to the horrors of his situation, he began to feel the pangs of both hunger and thirst. With the break of day came relief, for his cowardly assailants fled at dawn. He ventured out of the den, and soon resolved to keep on the lowlands. After digging up some roots, which he ate, and refreshing himself at a rivulet, he travelled on until after nightfall, when he came upon the very edge of a precipice, took a step, and fell among five Indians sitting around the embers of a fire. Uninjured by the fall, he sprang to his feet, bounded off in the darkness before the Indians could recover from their surprise, and made good his escape.
In this way he travelled on, enduring the most excruciating pains from hunger and fatigue, until the fourth day, when he struck the Alleghany River in sight of Fort Pitt; at which place he recruited for a week, and then returned home by way of Bedford, in company with a body of troops marching east.
His return created unusual gladness and great rejoicing, for his immediate friends mourned him as one dead.
Mrs. Elder gave a very interesting narrative on her return, although she did not share in the sufferings of Skelly. She was taken to Detroit, where she lived in the British garrison in the capacity of a cook. From there she was taken to Montreal and exchanged, and reached home by way of Philadelphia.
Felix Skelly afterward moved to the neighborhood of Wilmore, in Cambria county, where he lived a long time, and died full of years and honors.