Among all the early pioneers of the upper end of the Juniata Valley none was better known to the Indians than Thomas Coleman. His very name inspired them with terror; and, in all their marauding, they carefully avoided his neighborhood. He was, emphatically, an Indian-hater,—the great aim and object of whose life appeared to be centred in the destruction of Indians. For this he had a reason—a deep-seated revenge to gratify, a thirst that all the savage blood in the land could not slake,—superinduced by one of the most cruel acts of savage atrocity on record.
It appears that the Coleman family lived on the West Branch of the Susquehanna at an early day. Their habitation, it would also appear, was remote from the settlements; and their principal occupation was hunting and trapping in winter, boiling sugar in spring, and tilling some ground they held during the summer. Where they originally came from was rather a mystery; but they were evidently tolerably well educated, and had seen more refined life than the forest afforded. Nevertheless, they led an apparently happy life in the woods. There were three brothers of them, and, what is not very common nowadays, they were passionately attached to each other.
Early in the spring,—probably in the year 1763,—while employed in boiling sugar, one of the brothers discovered the tracks of a bear, when it was resolved that the elder two should follow and the younger remain to attend to the sugar-boiling. The brothers followed the tracks of the bear for several hours, but, not overtaking him, agreed to return to the sugar-camp. On their arrival, they found the remains of their brother boiled to a jelly in the large iron kettle! A sad and sickening sight, truly; but the authors of the black-hearted crime had left their sign-manual behind them,—an old tomahawk, red with the gore of their victim, sunk into one of the props which supported the kettle. They buried the remains as best they could, repaired to their home, broke up their camp, abandoned their place a short time after, and moved to the Juniata Valley.
Their first location was near the mouth of the river; but gradually they worked their way west, until they settled somewhere in the neighborhood of the mouth of Spruce Creek, on the Little Juniata, about the year 1770. A few years after, the two brothers, Thomas and Michael, the survivors of the family, moved to the base of the mountain, in what now constitutes Logan township, near where Altoona stands, which then was included within the Frankstown district.
These men were fearless almost to a fault; and on the commencement of hostilities, or after the first predatory incursion of the savages, it appears that Thomas gave himself up solely to hunting Indians. He was in all scouting parties that were projected, and always leading the van when danger threatened; and it has very aptly, and no doubt truly, been said of Coleman, that when no parties were willing to venture out he shouldered his rifle and ranged the woods alone in hopes of occasionally picking up a stray savage or two. That his trusty rifle sent many a savage to eternity there is not a shadow of doubt. He, however, never said so. He was never known to acknowledge to any of his most intimate acquaintances that he had ever killed an Indian; and yet, strange as it may seem, he came to the fort on several occasions with rather ugly wounds upon his body, and his knife and tomahawk looked as if they had been used to some purpose. Occasionally, too, a dead savage was found in his tracks, but no one could tell who killed him. For such reserve Mr. Coleman probably had his own motives; but that his fights with the savages were many and bloody is susceptible of proof even at this late day. We may incidentally mention that both the Colemans accompanied Captain Blair's expedition to overtake the tories, and Thomas was one of the unfortunate "Bedford Scout."
To show how well Thomas was known, and to demonstrate clearly that he had on sundry occasions had dealings with some of the savages without the knowledge of his friends, we may state that during the late war with Great Britain, on the Canadian frontier, a great many Indians made inquiries about "Old Coley;" and especially one, who represented himself as being a son of Shingas, pointed out to some of Captain Allison's men, who were from Huntingdon county, a severe gash on his forehead, by which he said he should be likely to remember "Coley" for the balance of his life.
In the fall of 1777, Fetter's Fort was occupied by some twenty-five men capable of bearing arms, belonging to the Frankstown district. Among these were both the Colemans, their own and a number of other settler's families.
The Indians who had murdered the Dunkards, it appears, met about a mile east of Kittaning Point, where they encamped, (the horses and plunder having probably been sent on across the mountain,) in order to await the arrival of the scattered forces. Thomas and Michael Coleman and Michael Wallack had left Fetter's Fort in the morning for the purpose of hunting deer. During the day, snow fell to the depth of some three or four inches; and in coming down the Gap, Coleman and his party crossed the Indian trail, and discovered the moccasin tracks, which they soon ascertained to be fresh. It was soon determined to follow them, ascertain their force, and then repair to the fort and give the alarm. They had followed the trail scarcely half a mile before they saw the blaze of the fire and the dusky outlines of the savages seated around it. Their number, of course, could not be made out, but they conjectured that there must be in the neighborhood of thirty; but, in order to get a crack at them, Thomas Coleman made his companions promise not to reveal their actual strength to the men in the fort. Accordingly they returned and made report—once, for a wonder, not exaggerated, but rather underrated. The available force, amounting to sixteen men, consisting of the three above named, Edward Milligan, Samuel Jack, William Moore, George Fetter, John Fetter, William Holliday, Richard Clausin, John McDonald, and others whose names are not recollected, loaded their rifles and started in pursuit of the savages. By the time they reached the encampment, it had grown quite cold, and the night was considerably advanced; still some ten or twelve Indians were seated around the fire. Cautiously the men approached, and with such silence that the very word of command was given in a whisper. When within sixty yards, a halt was called. One Indian appeared to be engaged in mixing paint in a pot over the fire, while the remainder were talking,—probably relating to each other the incidents attending their late foray. Their rifles were all leaning against a large tree, and Thomas Coleman conceived the bold design of approaching the tree, although it stood but ten feet from the fire, and securing their arms before attacking them. The achievement would have been a brilliant one, but the undertaking was deemed so hazardous that not a man would agree to second him in so reckless and daring an enterprise. It was then agreed that they all should aim, and at the given word fire. Coleman suggested that each man should single out a particular savage to fire at; but his suggestion was lost upon men who were getting nervous by beginning to think their situation somewhat critical. Aim—we will not call it deliberate—was taken, the word "fire!" was given, and the sharp report of the rifles made the dim old woods echo. Some three or four of the savages fell, and those who were sitting around the fire, as well as those who were lying upon the ground, instantly sprang to their feet and ran to the tree where their rifles stood. In the mean time, Coleman said—
"Quick! quick! boys, load again! we can give them another fire before they know where we are!"
But, on looking around, he was surprised to find nobody but Wallack and Holliday left to obey his order! The number proving unexpectedly large, the majority became frightened, and ran for the fort.
The Indians, in doubt as to the number of their assailants, took an early opportunity to get out of the light caused by the fire and concealed themselves behind trees, to await the further operations of this sudden and unexpected foe.
Coleman, Wallack, and Holliday, deeming themselves too few in number to cope with the Indians, followed their friends to Fetter's Fort.
Early the next morning, all the available force of the fort started in pursuit of the Indians. Of course, they did not expect to find them at the encampment of the night previous; so they took provisions and ammunition along for several days' scout, in order, if possible, to overtake the savages before they reached their own country. To this end, Coleman was appointed to the command, and the march was among those denominated by military men as forced.
When they reached the scene of the previous night's work, the evidence was plain that the savages had departed in the night. This the hunters detected by signs not to be mistaken by woodsmen; there was not a particle of fire left, and the coals retained no warmth. The tracks of the savages west of the fire, too, showed that they conformed to those east of the fire, in appearance, whereas, those made by the hunters in the morning looked quite differently. It was then evident that the Indians had a start of some six or eight hours.
On the spot where the fire had been the small earthen paint-pot was found, and in it a portion of mixed paint. Near the fire, numerous articles were picked up:—several scalping-knives, one of which the owner was evidently in the act of sharpening when the volley was fired, as the whetstone was lying by its side; several tomahawks, a powder-horn, and a number of other trifling articles. The ground was dyed with blood, leaving no doubt remaining in regard to their execution the night previous. They had both killed and wounded,—but what number was to remain to them forever a mystery, for they carried both dead and wounded with them.
This was a singular trait in savage character. They never left the body of a dead or wounded warrior behind them, if by any possible human agency it could be taken with them. If impossible to move it far, they usually buried it, and concealed the place of burial with leaves; if in an enemy's country, they removed the remains, even if in a state of partial decay, on the first opportunity that offered. To prevent the dead body of a brave from falling into the hands of an enemy appeared with them a religious duty paramount even to sepulture. As an evidence of this, Sam Brady, the celebrated Indian-fighter, once waylaid and shot an old Indian on the Susquehanna who was accompanied by his two sons, aged respectively sixteen and eighteen years. The young Indians ran when their father fell, and Brady left the body and returned home. Next morning, having occasion to pass the place, he found the body gone, and by the tracks he ascertained that it had been removed by the lads. He followed them forty miles before he overtook them, bearing their heavy burden with the will of sturdy work-horses. Brady had set out with the determination of killing both, but the sight so affected him that he left them to pursue their way unharmed; and he subsequently learned that they had carried the dead body one hundred and sixty miles. Brady said that was the only chance in his life to kill an Indian which he did not improve. It may be that filial affection prompted the young savages to carry home the remains of their parents; nevertheless, it is known that the dead bodies of Indians—ordinary fighting-men—were carried, without the aid of horses, from the Juniata Valley to the Indian burial-ground at Kittaning, and that too in the same time it occupied in making their rapid marches between the two points.
But to return to our party. After surveying the ground a few moments, they followed the Indian trail—no difficult matter, seeing that it was filled with blood—until they reached the summit of the mountain, some six or eight miles from the mouth of the Gap. Here a consultation was held, and a majority decided that there was no use in following them farther. Coleman, however, was eager to continue the chase, and declared his willingness to follow them to their stronghold, Kittaning.
This issue, successful though it was, did not fail to spread alarm through the sparsely-settled country. People from the neighborhood speedily gathered their families into the fort, under the firm impression that they were to be harassed by savage warfare not only during the winter, but as long as the Revolutionary struggle was to continue. However, no more Indians appeared; this little cloud of war was soon dispelled, and the people betook themselves to their homes before the holidays of 1777, where they remained during the winter without molestation.
It is said of old Tommy Coleman—but with what degree of truth we are unable to say—that, about twenty years ago, hearing of a delegation of Indians on their way to Washington, he shouldered his trusty old rifle, and went to Hollidaysburg. There, hearing that they had gone east on the canal packet, he followed them some three miles down the towing-path, for the express purpose of having a crack at one of them. This story—which obtained currency at the time, and is believed by many to this day—was probably put into circulation by some one who knew his inveterate hatred of Indians. An acquaintance of his informs us that he had business in town on the day on which the Indians passed through; hence his appearance there. His gun he always carried with him, even on a visit to a near neighbor. That he inquired about the Indians is true; but it was merely out of an anxiety to see whether they looked as they did in days of yore. His business led him to Frankstown, but that business was not to shoot Indians; for, if he still cherished any hatred toward the race, he had better sense than to show it on such an occasion.
He died at his residence, of old age, about fifteen years ago, beloved and respected by all. Peace to his ashes!
ARCH SPRING.
One of the most prominent points in Pennsylvania, during the Revolution, was Sinking Valley, owing, in a great measure, to the fact that it had a fort, under military discipline,—where the sentry marched upon ramparts, where the reveille aroused the inmates at the dawn of day, and where people felt secure in the immediate presence of muskets with bristling bayonets, a pair of cannon, and an abundance of ammunition, and where, for a long time, the greater part of the lead used by the Continental army was procured.
There is every reason to believe that the lead mines of Sinking Valley were known to the French as early as 1750. Although they searched extensively for minerals, it is not probable that they ventured as far into the Penn lands as Sinking Valley, unless the secret of the existence of the mines had been imparted to them by the Indians.
The Indians of the Juniata, after they had acquired the use of fire-arms, could always procure an abundance of lead. This, they said, they procured—almost pure—on a ridge, near where Mifflintown now stands, in Kishicoquillas Valley; and also at the foot, or in one of the ravines, of the mountain. With true Indian craft, the warriors kept the precise location of the lead mines a secret. The scarcity of lead, in early days, made it a valuable commodity to the settlers; and many an Indian's jug was filled with whiskey on promise of showing the lead mines—promises that were always "kept to the ear, but broken to the hope." It is, therefore, pretty evident that all the lead-ore the savages displayed was procured in Sinking Valley;—if they obtained any at other places along the Juniata, the mines have not yet been discovered, and not for the lack of many thorough searches for them, either.
The supposition that the French had been prospecting extensively in Sinking Valley many years ago is based upon the fact that, previous to Roberdeau's erecting the fort, several old drifts or openings were discovered, as well as an irregular trench, extending from the upper to the lower lead mines,—a distance of nearly six miles. The vestiges of this trench are still visible, and there is no question but what the digging of it and the immense amount of labor necessary for its construction was performed in the full confidence that they would be rewarded by the discovery of a silver mine, or, at least, an inexhaustible bed of pure lead-ore.
The fact that lead-ore existed in Sinking Valley was ascertained by the settlers about 1763, and the consequence was that a number of persons took up their residence there, but without purchasing lands. The certainty of the existence of lead, and the fabulous stories of the existence of various other precious metals, induced the proprietary family to reserve it to themselves, and to that end George Woods surveyed it for them a short time previous to the Revolution.
The earliest accounts we have of any permanent settlers in Sinking Valley bears date of 1760. There is a well-authenticated story of an occurrence that once took place in 1763, but neither names nor dates have been transmitted. Mr. Maguire had frequently heard the woman's name mentioned, who became quite a heroine, and lived in Sinking Valley until some time during the Revolution; but it had slipped his memory.
The story was that a man occupied a cabin in the upper end of the valley, and one day left it to go to the mouth of the Bald Eagle, leaving his wife and child at home. No savages had been in the neighborhood for some time, and, in fact, no friendly Indians either, except some few who resided in what is now known as Tuckahoe Valley. Fortunately, the man possessed two rifles, both of which he loaded, placed one over the chimney-piece, the other upon his shoulder, and departed on his errand. While the woman was busy attending to her household affairs, she saw two Indians, partly concealed by some bushes in front of the house. In an instant she took down the loaded gun, and watched their motions through the window. In a few minutes both of them stealthily approached the house, when she pointed the gun at the foremost savage and fired; the bullet striking him in the breast, he fell to rise no more. The other savage came directly toward the house, when the woman, still retaining in her grasp the rifle, ascended a ladder to the loft, where she stood with the gun in an attitude of defiance. The quick eye of the Indian detected her movements, and he followed, but with the usual caution of a savage; and when his head reached the opening, he peered into the dark garret to see his intended victim. Grasping one of the puncheons which composed the floor with one hand, he attempted to draw up his rifle with the other, when a discharge followed, and he fell lifeless to the floor. The woman, more dead than alive with fear, remained for a time in the loft, but, hearing no noise, she at length ventured down-stairs, and at the foot of the ladder found the savage perfectly dead, lying in a pool of blood. She took her child out of the cradle, and started for the mouth of the Bald Eagle, but fortunately met her husband but a few rods from the house.
All things taken into consideration, and especially the fact that the woman had never pulled the trigger of a gun before, this was probably one of the most heroic acts on record.
The nearest neighbors were summoned, and, on examining into the matter, it was concluded that, after the first Indian had been shot, the second one immediately cocked his rifle, and that while ascending the ladder the trigger must have been touched by a twig on the hickory rung of the ladder. The bullet had struck him under the chin, passed through his tongue, and lodged in his brain. His death was certainly an interposition of Providence in behalf of the woman and her infant child.
THE CAVE IN SINKING VALLEY.
Sinking Valley proper never could have been much of a resort of the Indians, for no traces of the existence of any villages in it have ever been discovered, neither have any relics ever been found or exhumed in it, that we can hear of, with the exception of some few arrow-heads and a skull, found near the Arch Springs.
The attention of Council was called to the existence of lead in Sinking Valley in a letter from Major-General John Armstrong to President Wharton, dated Yorktown, 23d February, 1778. He says:—
As at present there appears to be a scarcity of the important article of lead, and it is certain a Mr. Harman Husbands, now a member of Assembly for our State, has some knowledge of a lead mine situated in a certain tract of land not far from Frankstown, formerly surveyed for the use of the proprietary family.
General Gates, President of the Board of War, having signified his earnest desire to see and converse with Mr. Husbands on the subject of the mine, and being greatly hurried with business, I have, at his instance, undertaken the present line, that you would please to use your influence with the House of Assembly and with Mr. Husbands, that he, as soon as possible, may be spared to concert with the Board of War on the best measures for making a trial of and deriving an early supply from that source.
The general is of opinion with me, that the mine ought to—or may at least for the present—be seized by and belong to the State; and that private persons, who, without right, may have sat down on that reserved tract, should neither prevent the use of the lead nor be admitted to make a monopoly of the mine. I am of opinion that a few faithful laborers may be sufficient to make the experiment, and that the lieutenant of the county, or some other good man, may be serviceable in introducing the business.
I cannot doubt the compliance of the honorable Assembly and Council.
P.S.—It may be proper that a summary consideration be first taken, whether the State will make the effort alone or leave it to the conduct of the Board of War; that, at any rate, the salutary effects, if any, may be gained to the public. The water-carriage is a great thing. Query—Whether the ore should be run into portable bars at the bank, or at Middleton?
At the writing of the above, some few persons had found their way to the mines, raised small quantities of ore, and smelted it; but their operations were contracted for want of tools and the proper appliances for smelting. They confined themselves to such ore as was on or near the surface, and made small oven furnaces, and smelted with charcoal.
The Council soon took the suggestion of General Armstrong in hand; and it was resolved to give the general superintendence of the mining operations to General Daniel Roberdeau, then a member of Congress, who went forward to Carlisle to make the necessary arrangements. From that place he wrote to President Wharton, on the 17th of April, 1778, as follows:—
The confidence the honorable the representatives of our State have placed in me by a resolve, together with the pressing and indispensable necessity of a speedy supply of lead for the public service, induced me to ask leave of absence of Congress to proceed with workmen to put their business into a proper train, and have reached this place on that errand; and, having collected men and materials, and sent them forward this day, propose to follow them to-morrow. My views have been greatly enlarged since I left York on the importance of the undertaking and hazard in prosecuting it, for the public works here are not furnished with an ounce of lead but what is in fixed ammunition; on the other hand, the prevailing opinion of people, as I advance into the country, of Indian depredations shortly to commence, might not only deter the workmen I stand in need of, but affright the back settlers from their habitations, and leave the country exposed and naked. To give confidence to one and the other, I have drawn out of the public stores here twenty-five stand of arms and a quantity of gun-powder, and intended to proceed this morning, but was applied to by John Caruthers, Esq., Lieutenant of the County, and William Brown, Commissary of Provisions for the Militia, who advised me on the subject of their respective departments, and, by the account they gave of the orders from your honorable board to them as to calling out and supplying the militia, I find the State is guarding against the incursions of the savages. This confirmed me in a preconceived intention of erecting a stockade fort in the neighborhood of the mine I am about to work, if I could stir up the inhabitants to give their labor in furnishing an asylum for their families in case of imminent danger, and thus prevent the evacuation of the country. Mr. Caruthers, convinced of the necessity of the work for the above purposes, condescendingly offered one company of the militia, which he expected would consist of about forty men, under my command, to co-operate in so salutary a business,—as it consisted with the orders of Council respecting the station, being only a deviation of a very few miles,—and that one other company, of about the same number, should also join me, for the greater expedition, until the pleasure of Council was known, which he presumed might coincide with such dispositions, otherwise it might be deranged by an immediate express; and, that the pleasure of Council might be known without delay, I give this intelligence. If these measures are for the good of the public wheel, [weal,] I hope to be honored with a confirmation, and orders to the militia to exert themselves in carrying the design into immediate execution; if otherwise, I rely on the well-known candor of Council that I shall not be suspected of any sinister design in leaning to an offer freely made as above, from, I believe, the best motives, much less that I have presumed to interfere with the arrangements of Council, as this early notice is full proof to the contrary, as the whole is in their power as much as if nothing had passed between the lieutenant and myself. I have only to add, on this subject, that your design of patrolling-parties of good riflemen shall be encouraged by me. The commissary, Mr. Brown, being destitute of money, I would have spared it out of my small stock, but that, by my interference, 1200 dollars—all he asked—was supplied by a public officer here; but further sums will, he said, be soon necessary, and he expressed much concern for the scarcity of provisions. I was advised very lately, by Judge McKean, of a quantity of salted beef in the neighborhood of Harris's Ferry; and before I left York, I applied to him by letter to advise me of the quantity and quality, with a design to purchase, as I intended to employ a much greater number of men than are already employed at the lead mine, to carry on the business with vigor. If Council should think proper to order a quantity of said provisions up the Juniata for the militia, I should be glad of being favored with what I want through the same channel. I intend to build such a fort as, with sufficient provisions, under the smile of Providence, would enable me to defend it against any number of Indians that might presume to invest it. If I am not prevented, by an opportunity of serving the State eminently by a longer stay in the wilderness, I purpose to return to my duty in Congress in about three weeks. Will Council favor me with the exemption of a number of men, not exceeding twenty,—if I cannot be supplied by the adjutant-general, who has orders co-extensive with my want of smelters and miners from deserters from the British army,—to suffer such to come to this part of the country, contrary to a preceding order? If Council should think such a measure of exemption for the public good, I should be glad to receive their orders on that head. I would not intrude my sentiments on Council, but am of opinion that, besides the supplying of provisions to the militia in Bedford, it is very important that the intended stockade should be seasonably furnished with that article; therefore, if it should not be thought advisable to improve the above hint, that the provisions already mentioned in the neighborhood of Harris's should be left unnoticed until I shall have an opportunity of furnishing my own supplies from that stock. If I shall be advised by Mr. McKean, it is in my offer. My landing is at Water Street, in [on the] Juniata; but I could, on notice, receive any supply from Standing Stone.
In the mean time, the persons employed went forward to the mines, and, under the direction of a Scotch miner named Lowrie, commenced sinking shafts and raising ore at the upper mine. General Roberdeau arrived at Standing Stone after the tory expedition to Kittaning, being, as it would appear, his second visit; the first was a mere tour of observation. From this point he wrote as follows to John Carothers:—
Standing Stone, April 23, 1778.
Sir:—The enclosed was put into my hands, to be forwarded to you by express. The intelligence it contains is abundantly confirmed by several persons I have examined, both fugitives from the frontiers and some volunteers that have returned for an immediate supply of ammunition and provisions, to be sent forward to Sinking Spring Valley, as the troops will be obliged to quit the service except they are supplied without delay. Want of arms prevents those who would turn out. I shall furnish what I brought from Carlisle as soon as they come forward; but it is very unfortunate that these arms, and the ammunition, which is coming by water, have been retarded by contrary wind, and probably the lowness of the water. To remedy this, I have despatched two canoes this morning to meet them on the way. I am giving Mr. Brown, who is here, every assistance in my power; but your aid is greatly wanted to stimulate the militia, and furnish arms, ammunition, pack-horses, and every thing necessary in your line of duty. The insurgents from this neighborhood, I am informed, are about thirty. One of them (Hess) has been taken, and confession extorted, from which it appears that this banditti expect to be joined by three hundred men from the other side the Alleghany; reports more vague mention one thousand whites and savages. The supply of provisions for so great a number renders it improbable; but, in answer to this, I have been informed by the most credible in this neighborhood, that strangers, supposed to be from Detroit, have been this winter among the disaffected inhabitants, and have removed with them. If you have authority to call out the militia, in proportion to the exigence of the times, I think it of great importance that a considerable number of men should be immediately embodied and sent forward to meet the enemy; for it cannot be expected that the volunteers will long continue in service, and I find that the recruiting the three companies goes on too slowly to expect a seasonable supply from them of any considerable number. If you have not authority to call the necessary aid of militia, you, no doubt, will apply to the honorable the Council, and may furnish them with my sentiments, and to the Board of War for arms and ammunition. With ten men here, under the command of Lieutenant Cluggage, in Continental service until the 1st of December next, I intend to move forward as soon as the arms, ammunition, and other things come forward, to afford an escort to Sinking Spring Valley, where I shall be glad to meet as great a number of militia as you will station there, to enable me to erect a stockade, to secure the works so necessary to the public service and give confidence to the frontier inhabitants, by affording an asylum for their women and children. These objects, I doubt not, you will think worthy your immediate attention and utmost exertion, which, I can assure you,—making the fullest allowance for the timidity of some and credulity of others,—is a very serious matter; for without immediate aid the frontiers will be evacuated, for all that I have been able to say has been of no avail with the fugitives I have met on the roads,—a most distressing sight, of men, women, and children, flying through fear of a cruel enemy.
I am, respectfully, sir, your most obedient, humble servant,
Daniel Roberdeau.
The enclosure spoken of in Roberdeau's letter was a note from Robert Smith to Robert Cluggage, of which the following is a copy:—
Sir:—Be pleased to send expresses to Lieutenant Carothers by the first opportunity, to give him some account of insurrections on the South Mountain, and likewise to inspect very closely into who is abroad at this time and upon what occasion, as there is a suspicion, by information, of other insurrections rising in other parts of the county of Cumberland; and in so doing you will oblige your friend to serve,
Robert Smith.
April 23, 1778.
The letter of Gen. Roberdeau, as well as Smith's, were sent to President Wharton by Lieutenant Carothers, enclosed in another of his own dated at Carlisle, on the 27th of April.
Previous to this, however, he sent a letter to the Council, dated on the 24th, in which he speaks of the deplorable condition of the frontier and the constant alarms from the tories. He said:—
The marching classes of the fifth battalion I have been obliged to send up to Sinking Valley and Bald Eagle, which will amount to near seventy privates. The frontiers in those parts have been greatly alarmed of late by a number of tories who have banded together, threatening vengeance to all who have taken the oath of allegiance to the States. This moment I have received an express from Kishicoquillas for a supply of arms, and that Colonel McElevy, of Bedford county, came there express himself, with an account that a body of tories, near three hundred and twenty, in and above Standing Stone, had collected themselves together and driven a number of the inhabitants from Standing Stone Town. Immediately Colonel Buchanan and Colonel Brown marched off with a few men who could be got equipped, and we are waiting with patience the issue.
General Roberdeau wrote to Council on the 27th of April, after Captain Blair's return, as follows:—
Sinking Spring Valley, April 27, 1778.
Sir:—I have little more time to refer you to the enclosed examination, taken in great haste, but correct as it respects the testimony. The confiscation of the effects of the disaffected in these parts is very irregular, and the brutality offered to the wives and children of some of them, as I have been informed, in taking from them even their wearing apparel, is shocking. I wish the magistrates were furnished with the late law respecting confiscation, and that they were more capable ministers of justice; the one I have seen is such a specimen of the popular election of these officers as I expected. I am happy to inform you that a very late discovery of a new vein promises the most ample supply; but I am very deficient in workmen. Mr. Glen is with me, to direct the making and burning of bricks, and is to come up to build a furnace, by which time I expect to be in such forwardness as to afford an ample supply to the army. The want of provision I dread notwithstanding the active endeavors of Mr. Brown, for it is scarcely to be got; therefore I beg leave to refer you to a hint on this subject in my letter from Carlisle. Of forty militia, I have, at most, seven with me, which retards building a stockade to give confidence to the inhabitants, who were all on the wing before I reached this. I send Richard Weston, under guard, to Carlisle jail, to wait your orders. He is conducted by Lieutenant John Means, of the militia. The inhabitants are hunting the other insurgents, and hope they will all be taken, but wish any other the trouble of examining them, as my hands are full. I am, with respectful salutations to Council, sir,
Yr most obt, humbl servt,
Danl Roberdeau.
The general speaks of the tory Hess (in his first letter) as if he had been forced to confess. This is an error. Hess made a voluntary confession after the return of Captain Blair, and after some of Blair's men had partially hung him and let him off.
The statement that McElevy reported at Kishicoquillas that three hundred and twenty tories had driven off some of the inhabitants of Standing Stone Town is no doubt true enough, but no such occurrence ever took place. The fears of the people no doubt prompted McElevy to exaggerate, in order to get aid forthwith. Shortly after the arrival of Buchanan and Brown at Standing Stone, the Blair expedition returned, so that their services were not required.
General Roberdeau complained of the manner in which confiscations were conducted. He was grossly misinformed. The facts in the case are simply these:—On the receipt of the news of the disasters met by the tories at Kittaning, many of the tory families fled, leaving every thing behind them. These articles, even if wearing apparel was included, could not well escape confiscation unless they were pitched into the street. There is no instance on record of the women and children of tories having any thing like wearing-apparel taken from them. If such acts were committed, they were without the sanction of the officers or the people, by outlaws who lived by plunder, who may be found in any community, and for whose acts most assuredly the patriots should not have been held accountable.
General Roberdeau's stay at the mines must have been brief. The next we hear of him is in a letter to Vice-President Bryan, dated at York, on the 30th of May of the same year. The direction of affairs at the mines was probably left in the hands of Lowrie and Cluggage.
It is altogether uncertain how long the mines were carried on by government, but not longer, probably, than till the fall of 1779; and what the total yield of lead was during that time we cannot ascertain. In one place in the Records we find an order forwarded to one of the sub-lieutenants of the county for five hundred pounds; and we also hear that quantities were issued to the militia at sundry times. There must have been some kind of a bargain existing between government and Roberdeau for taking out the lead, for, in a letter to Vice-President Bryan for some pay due him, he says, "My late engagement in the lead-works has proved a moth to my circulating cash, and obliged me to make free with a friend in borrowing." He also says, in a letter to President Reed, bearing date November 10, 1779:—
Sir:—Permit me to ask the favor of you to make my request known to the honorable Board of your Presidence that they would be pleased this day to order me payment for the ten hundred pounds of lead delivered to your order some months ago. The price of that article is so enormous that I should blush to make a demand, but my necessity keeps equal pace with the rapid depreciation of our money; and particularly as I purpose leaving the city to-morrow, dependence has been had on the money in question, for my advances are insupportably great, for my defected purpose of supplying lead to Continent, which, entirely through default of Congress in not furnishing the necessary defences, has been entirely stopped, as the honorable the Assembly have been informed. After the most diligent inquiry, I cannot find less than six dollars per pound demanded for lead by the quantity,—a price which, Mr. Peters just now informed me, the Board of War was willing to give.
This epistle near about fixes the time of the abandonment of the mines; and it also shows that lead commanded rather an exorbitant price at that time—payable, of course, in Continental funds.
In 1779, Sinking Spring Valley contained, according to an anonymous writer, "sixty or seventy families, living in log-houses." The principal portion of these were foreigners, who were taken there to work the mines. After Roberdeau's project had fallen to the ground, in consequence of the scarcity of the ore and the immense expense of mining and melting it, these miners attempted for a while to carry on operations for themselves. Their close proximity to the Indians, and the fact that several incursions were made into the valley by the savages in search of plunder and scalps, made those men, unused to border life, quit, and seek refuge in the Atlantic cities. The fort was evacuated by the government militia. Nevertheless it was still a place of refuge, and was used by the settlers of Sinking Valley and Bald Eagle up to the close of the war.
In 1781, Jacob Roller, Jr., and a man named Bebault, were massacred by Indians in Sinking Valley. Few particulars of this massacre are known, and many contradictory stories still exist in regard to it. We give Mr. Maguire's version of it, but would at the same time state that he did not vouch for the authenticity of it, as he gathered it from the exaggerated rumors that in those days followed the recital of current events.
Roller, it appears was an active and energetic frontier-man, bold, fearless, and daring; and the common belief was that his unerring rifle had ended the days of many a red-skin. Be that as it may, however, it is certain that the Indians knew him, and marked him out for a victim long before they succeeded in despatching him. Several small roving bands were in the habit of coming down into the valley after the mines were abandoned; but no favorable opportunity offered for a long time to kill Roller.
On one occasion, four of the settlers had met at Roller's house for the purpose of going on a hunt for deer. Early in the morning, when just ready to start, Roller heard the breaking of a twig near his cabin. He peered out into the deep gloom of the misty morning, and discovered three Indians crouching near an oak-tree. It was very evident that the Indians had not been close enough to the house to ascertain the number within, and the inmates were in a state of doubt as to the number of savages. Profound silence was observed, and it was resolved to shoot from the window as soon as the light was sufficiently strong to render their aim certain. The Indians were evidently waiting for Roller to come out of his house. At length, when they thought the proper time had come, the settlers gathered at the window, and thrust out their rifles as silently as possible. The quick eyes of the savages saw, even by the hazy light, that there were too many muzzles to belong to one man, and they took to the woods with all the speed they could command, leaving behind them a quantity of venison and dried corn, and a British rifle.
On another occasion, Roller had an encounter with a single Indian in the woods, which probably stands unparalleled in the history of personal encounters between a savage and a white man. Roller left home about seven o'clock in the morning, in search of deer. He had ranged along the edge of the mountain an hour or two, when he heard a rifle-shot but a short distance from him, and a minute had scarcely elapsed before a wounded doe came in the direction where he stood. To shoot it was but the work of an instant, because he supposed that one of his neighbors had wounded it; for the thought of the presence of Indians never entered his head. Yet it appears that it was an Indian who fired. The Indian mistook the crack of Boiler's rifle for that of a companion left at the base of the mountain. Under this impression, the Indian, anxious to secure the doe, and Roller, intent on bleeding her, both neglected one of the first precautions of the day,—viz.: to reload their rifles. Roller was leaning over the doe, when he heard the crust of the snow breaking in a thicket near him. He jumped to his feet, and was confronted by the Indian,—a tall, muscular fellow, who was quite as large as Roller. The savage, well aware of the fact that neither of the rifles were loaded, and probably satisfied in meeting "a foeman worthy of his steel," deliberately placed his gun against a tree by the side of Roller's, and, drawing his tomahawk, he cast a glance of savage delight at the white man before him, which seemed to imply that he would soon show him who was the better man of the two. Roller, anticipating his intentions, drew his tomahawk and stood on the defensive. The savage made a spring, when Roller jumped aside, and the Indian passed. The latter suddenly wheeled, when Roller struck him upon the elbow of the uplifted hand, and the hatchet fell. Fearing to stoop to regain it, the savage drew his knife, and turned upon Roller. They clinched, and a fearful struggle ensued. Roller held the savage's right arm, so as to render useless his knife, while the Indian grasped firmly the hand in which Roller held his hatchet, and in this manner they struggled until they were both tripped by the carcass of the doe; still both retained their hold. Roller fortunately grasped his knife, lying beside the doe, with his left hand, and thrust it into the side of the Indian. The struggle now became terrible, and by one powerful effort the savage loosened himself and sprang to his feet; but Roller was as quick as he was. In attempting to close again, the savage stabbed Roller in the shoulder and in the arm. Roller had dropped his hatchet in regaining his feet, and the combat was now a deadly one with knives. They cut and thrust at each other until their buckskin hunting-shirts were literally cut into ribbons and the crusted snow was dyed with their blood. At length, faint with the loss of blood, the combat ceased, by mutual consent, as it were, and the Indian, loosening himself from Roller's grasp, took his rifle and disappeared. Roller stanched, with frozen snow and some tow, the only dangerous wound he had, and managed to reach his home. He was stabbed in four or five places, and it was some weeks before he fully recovered from his wounds. The skeleton of the savage, with his rifle by his side, was found the succeeding summer on the top of Warrior Ridge.
The time of Roller's death is not positively known. Mr. Maguire thought it was in the fall of 1781. From subsequent evidences, three Indians came down the mountain, avoiding the fort of Jacob Roller, Sr., which was located at the head of Sinking Valley, and passed on down through the valley to the house of Bebault, whom they tomahawked and scalped.
From thence they went to the house of Jacob Roller, Jr., who was alone at the time, his family being at his father's fort. He was murdered and scalped while at work in his corn-field. His absence from the fort at night created alarm, and early next morning a party went down to his house to see if any thing had befallen him. While searching for him, one of the men discovered blood on the bars, which soon led to the discovery of his body in the field. From the footprints in the ground, it was plain that the murder had been committed by two men and a boy between twelve and fourteen years of age. Roller had been shot and scalped, his head shockingly mangled with a tomahawk, and the region of his heart was gashed with a dozen cuts and stabs made by a sharp scalping-knife. The inference was that, after shooting Roller, the men induced the lad to tomahawk and stab him. In other words, they gave him a lesson in butchery and courage.
Bebault was found shot and scalped, although still alive,—a shocking spectacle to look upon. He was so much exhausted by the loss of blood as to be unable to give any account of the transaction.
The bodies of both were taken to the fort and buried, and, as soon as possible, a large party, consisting of the Rollers, Beattys, Rickets, &c, started in pursuit. They followed the trail for nearly fifty miles, but at last lost it, and were compelled to return without overtaking the murderers.
Every settler knew Roller, and his death cast a universal gloom over the valley. The manner of it alarmed the settlement to such an extent that such fall crops as were still out were suffered to rot upon the field, as no force could be spared from the forts, and people would no longer risk their lives to the mercy of the marauders.
Jacob Roller, Jr., was the oldest of seven brothers, all powerful fellows, and active frontier-men.
There are quite a number of the descendants of the seven brothers, who reside in various places,—some in the West, but probably a majority of them at Williamsburg, or in the neighborhood of Springfield Furnace, in Blair county.
Richard B. McCabe, Esq., in a series of reminiscences of old times, published in 1832, while speaking of the lead mines in Sinking Valley, said:—