U.S. Data Repository -- USGenNet Inc. -- Please read the U.S. Data Repository Copyright Statement on the following page: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (pages 95-117) Chapter VI The Struggle for the Mastery Quiet and calm, without a fear Of danger lurking darkly near, The weary laborer left his plow. The milkmaid caroled by her cow. * * * * * * Through the trees fierce eyeballs glowed. Dark human forms in moonshine showed. Wild from their native wilderness. With painted limbs and battle dress. A yell the dead might wake to hear Swelled on the night air, far and clear, Then smote the Indian tomahawk. On crashing door and shattering lock. Then rang the rifle shot and then The shrill death scream of stricken men覧 Sank the red ax in woman's brain. And childhood's cry arose in vain. 覧From "Pentucket," Whittier. If stories of conflicts between the early set- tlers and the Indians were related merely to ex- cite the imagination they were better left un- told; but if we think of them as records of hero- ism in the long-fought battle with the wilderness and the aborigines覧incidents of the struggle between savagery and civilization覧they enable us to appreciate more fully the courage that was inherent in the founders of the new nation beyond the Alleghanies. How bravely and nobly they suffered, endured, and won, is told in the stories that have come down to us. Some of them, picked up here and there, alone would be hardly worth preserving, but they serve to unify parts of a longer narrative. The chronicles of "Border Warfare" give a number of the stories, notably those connected with the Mor- gan family, in a somewhat different form. The versions here given have been handed down for generations in the immediate vicinity in which the incident occurred. Archer Butler Hulbert says: "Pilgrim is not by any means too saintly a word to be applied to the genuine pioneer; he might be uncouth in dress and manners, untidy in the extreme as to appearance, ignorant of letters, and innocent of all that is represented by our word culture; yet at his average he was a brave and generous man, who labored for and loved his hearth- stone, and fought with fury for his wife and children who gathered at nightfall around its ruddy light." Lord Dunmore's War was the natural out- come of the difficulties arising over conflicting claims to the lands included formerly in the District of West Augusta, and between the be- ginning of that campaign and Wayne's Victory in 1795 the Monongahela Valley was the scene of scores of murderous Indian raids, many of which took place within the present limits of this county. In 1775 a man named Davis came into this county and built his home in the place where Rivesville now stands. The Indians were his only neighbors, and he and his family were frequently annoyed by them. Davis finally came into possession of all the land between Parker's Run and Paw Paw Creek, including Rivesville and the surrounding country, about 750 acres, by purchasing it of the Indians for live gallons of whiskey, for which he paid 50 cents a gallon. The story of Captain Booth is familiar to almost everyone residing in Marion County. On the morning of the sixteenth of June, 1778, Captain Booth, with a party of five common soldiers under his command, left the fort on Koon's Run and crossed Booth's Creek to work in a cornfield. The Captain assigned two men to act as guards, while the remainder of the party set to work diligently hoeing corn, ever on the alert for any signs of Indians lurking near. As even- ing approached, the Captain told four of the men to go home, adding that he and the remain- ing soldier覧a man by the name of Cochran覧 would work on for a little while. Scarcely had the four men disappeared when a shot rang out, followed by others in rapid succession. One Indian's aim was true, and a bullet found its way to the heart of Captain Booth. The death of Captain Booth caused great sorrow among his companions at the fort. He was a man of education and ability. His grave was at first marked by a large locust tree, but there is no landmark now to show the exact spot where he is buried. The man Cochran was slightly wounded and, as he fled toward the fort, his foot caught in a briar and he fell backward, directly into the arms of the Indian who was pursuing him. The savages bound him and proceeded on their way as far as the present site of Boothsville, where they encamped for the night. In the morning they continued their journey across the country to the Ohio River. Cochran was forced to undergo the torture of the gauntlet m passing through the Indian villages. At times no food could be obtained for days, but the Indians pushed dauntlessly on toward the Great Lakes. When they reached Quebec, Cochran was taken prisoner by the British and, in 1782, was exchanged by them for some English pris- oners and sent to New York, from which place he made his way back to Virginia. In March, 1779, a canoe was seen drifting down the Monongahela River with bloodstains on it, and bullet holes through its sides. This led the settlers to suspect that Indians were lurking in the vicinity, so, in all haste, they gathered into Prickett's Fort for safety. Not hearing of any disturbance, and being anxious to commence their spring work, they stayed at the fort at night only and worked on their farms in the day time. Among those who thus took refuge from the savages was David Morgan and his family. At that time Morgan was about sixty years old and somewhat feeble, so he sent his two younger children, Stephen, a boy of fourteen, and Sarah, a girl of twelve, to hoe corn on his farm, which was about a mile distant on the opposite side of the river. Without his knowl- edge, they took their dinner with them, intend- ing to stay all day. After the children were gone, Morgan fell asleep and dreamed that he saw them scalped. The dream was so real that he awoke, but fell asleep and dreamed the same thing again. Upon awakening this time he was much dis- turbed, and inquiring about the children, was informed of their intentions. He immediately started for the farm with his rifle. Upon his arrival there, he found his children alive and at work, but a few minutes later, while talking to them, and at the same time scanning the fields and woods, he espied two Indians coming from the direction of the house. Not wishing to alarm the children more than was necessary, he carelessly remarked that there were Indians watching them and that they must run to the fort and leave him to fight them. He then crossed to a stone fence and hid behind it, de- laying action to let the children get away. When he thought they were at a safe distance, he ran in the direction of the fort, using the trees for protection, the Indians following in swift pursuit. He succeeded in shooting one of the Indians, at the same time dodging the bullet of the other. The two覧Morgan and the savage覧then approached each other. The guns of both combatants were empty. The In- dian threw his tomahawk, cutting off one of Morgan's fingers; then, catching up a dry ash pole, he struck at him, but the pole broke, and Morgan seized the opportunity to strike the In- dian with his gun. In the hand to hand con- flict which ensued both were thrown to the ground, and Morgan managed to get the In- dian's forefinger between his teeth, biting it to the bone. Although in excruciating pain, the latter tried to get at his scalping knife, which was held by an apron that he had secured in the cabin and had wound tightly around his body. He sought to obtain this knife by work- ing it up by the blade until the handle was within his grasp. Morgan, knowing that every- thing would be ended if the Indian secured the knife, took advantage of an opportune moment to seize the handle, and draw it through the latter's hand, cutting that member to the bone. Morgan then had the advantage of the situa- tion and, holding the Indian firmly, he thrust the knife into his side, wounding him severely; after which, armed with his enemy's gun, he made his way to the fort and related his ad- venture. Morgan was exhausted and unable to return to the scene of the conflict, but men from the fort went immediately in search of the Indian. Tracing him by a trail of blood, they found him, not yet dead, concealed among the branches of a fallen chestnut tree about 200 yards from the spot where the encounter took place. He begged the white men to spare him, addressing them as "brothers," but they toma- hawked him, skinned part of his body, and made a shot pouch and a belt with the skin. To return to the children: When they started for the fort Stephen outran his sister and, reaching the river, undressed and swam across, landing about one mile below the fort. Securing an old hunting shirt from a nearby farmhouse, he wrapped it about himself and went on his way crying. When his sister reached the river she saw his clothes and rightly guessed that he had swum across. She waded along the edge of the river a mile to keep the Indians from tracking her footprints in the soft earth. Finally she came to the canoe landing opposite the fort, and from there reached home in safety. In the fall of 1782 Andrew Ice and Mary Bayles were married and came from Ice's Ferry to Buffalo Creek to visit William Ice, An- drew's brother. William and his wife decided this would be a good opportunity for them to make a long anticipated visit to Ice's Ferry, so, taking their children with them, they started on their journey, leaving Andrew and Mary in charge of their house. While they were away, the Indians made a raid on the settlement. Years afterward Mary Bayles Ice told her children that the day the Indians came a man passed by the house, but did not come near enough for them to speak to him. They thought it strange that he did not stop, because travelers were accustomed to do so, espe- cially at meal time; and this day Mrs. Ice had made apple dumplings for dinner, and felt that she could entertain a guest royally. However, this stranger went on to the fort that stood on the Monongahela River about a mile below Fairmont. There were several families in the fort at the time, and when the man arrived there he told them that Indians were in the vicinity and had killed Jacob Straight and a Mrs. Dragoo, who resided on Finch's Run near where Mr. S. L. Watson's farm now is. When the Indians made their attack on the Straight's home, Mrs. Straight hid in a cave near by. She had her son Peter with her and it took all her efforts to keep the little one quiet, so that they would not be discovered. It was found afterward that Mrs. Dragoo had also escaped. When the man told the people at the fort about these outrages they asked him if he had notified the Ices and the other people on Buf- falo Creek. But he answered: "No, I am no news packer." This man's name was Helen, and he afterwards settled near Worthington, on Helen's Run, which was named for him. The Ices were at once notified that the In- dians were in the neighborhood, whereupon they, too, sought the safety of the fort. The members of a family that lived where the Dutch Ice property now is were afraid to go to the fort, but went to a high ridge above their home and remained there until they thought it safe to return. This ridge is called Scott's Ridge to this day in honor of the man who took refuge there. Three years later, in 1785, a band of In- dians came to the home of Thomas Cunning- ham, on Bingamon Creek, which empties into the West Fork a short distance above Worth- ington. Cunningham was away on a trading trip when his family was attacked. A savage sank his tomahawk into the brain of one of the children and threw the body into the yard. Mrs. Cunningham was made the unwilling wit- ness of the scalping of her murdered son. They tomahawked and scalped her remaining son, and scalped a daughter, whose brains they beat out against a tree. Then the mother and her babe were carried off into captivity. The party crossed Bingamon Creek and concealed them- selves in a cave, where they remained until nightfall. The sufferings of Mrs. Cunningham, both mental and physical, were terrible during the journey to the Indian country. She was obliged to walk the entire distance, and, during the whole time her food consisted of three paw- paws and the head of a wild turkey, so that she almost perished from hunger. When she ar- rived at the Indian town and was permitted to draw off her stockings, the skin and nails of her feet came off with them. After many days she was united with her husband through the kindness of Simon Girty, the white renegade, to whose credit should be placed this act of mercy. In 1786 the Dragoo family resided on what is now Straight's Run. One day while Mrs. Dragoo and her son were picking beans in their garden they were surrounded by Indians and taken captive. When they had been taken some distance, the horse which she and the boy were riding stumbled and fell, throwing them violently to the ground, and injuring Mrs. Dragoo so that she was unable to continue the journey. The Indians immediately killed her and proceeded on their way to Ohio, taking the boy with them. He was a likable lad and the Indians grew very fond of him, and he was finally adopted by them. Years passed, and as nothing was heard of Mrs. Dragoo and her son, their rela- tives and friends believed them dead. Mean- while, the boy had grown to be a man, and had wedded an Indian squaw. One day he decided to pay his people a visit and, bringing his two stalwart young sons with him, he re- turned to his boyhood home, where he was re- ceived with much joy. However, the call of the wild was too strong within them, and they soon returned to their Indian life. Levi Morgan, one of the very early settlers in this district, was known throughout the coun- try as an Indian fighter. He was also a hunter and trapper and one day in the year 1787, on visiting some traps which he had placed near what is now known as Katy, on Buffalo Creek, to his delight he found that he had trapped a bear. He had with him two young dogs that he was teaching to trail, and so intent was he on the work that he failed to notice two Indians coming down the creek in a birch bark canoe. They quickly rowed to shore and, seeing Mor- gan take to flight, started in hot pursuit. Mor- gan darted behind a sugar tree, and the Indians also concealed themselves behind trees. One Indian was unfortunate in choosing a tree that was too small to protect his body, and taking advantage of this, Morgan shot him. His gun was now empty and, as he had no time to reload it, he started to run. He crossed the creek and began to climb the hill, but the remaining Indian was gaining on him. Mor- gan decided to drop his powder-pouch, think- ing the Indian would stop to pick it up, but in this he was mistaken. Next he let his gun fall, but again he was doomed to disappointment. When he reached the top of the hill, a plan sug- gested itself to his mind. He started back toward the Indian, waving his hand and crying, "Come on, here he is." The Indian, believing that some of Morgan's friends were coming to his aid, turned to flee, picking up the discarded gun as he ran. Some years later, at the treaty of Au Glaize, Morgan and the Indian met again, and to Morgan's surprise the Indian still carried the gun. They agreed to run a race for it, and Morgan won, thus getting possession of his weapon once more. After the race the In- dian remarked that he "was so old and stiff," in this manner excusing his defeat. About 1791 this same Levi Morgan led a small company of settlers, including Horatio Morgan, Jacob Harp and several others, on an expedition against an Indian town on Sunfish Creek, across the Ohio River, for the purpose of destroying the town and forcing the Indians farther west. On arriving they found it de- serted by the warriors, who were on the war- path, the only inhabitants being the women and children and one old man. Morgan and his men crept up to the outskirts of the town覧 where they could obtain a good view of the situation覧and observing the old man sitting quietly smoking a pipe in the door of his wig- wam, Levi Morgan raised his rifle, aimed it at the Indian's head and fired覧an act for which he suffered remorse ever after. This was the signal for the attack. The town was plundered and burned, and the party returned home bring- ing the women and children with them as cap- tives. One of the Indian women and two children were kept all winter in a cooper shop near Zackwell Morgan's residence on the Morgan- town Pike, between Prickett's Creek and Little Creek. The squaw would sit for hours at a time in the shop pounding hominy on a block. While she was thus occupied the two children amused themselves by sticking her with pins set in the pith of a long stick. The squaw paid no attention to the conduct of the children, but went steadily on cracking hominy. In the spring of 1792 a party of men started west with the Indians. They crossed the Ohio River, reached a point near where Zanesville, Ohio, now stands, and exchanged them for prisoners the Indians had made among the white people. The old stone chimney pile of the Zack- well Morgan house is still standing, and a large sycamore tree has grown out of it, a living monument to mark the place where the Indians were kept prisoners, one hundred and twenty years ago. In 1791 John Hunsaker and his family were moving from Wheeling to Fairmont when they were attacked by Indians on what is known as Hunsaker's Knob. Their small babe was injured and then placed in a tree, while its parents were forced to go on with the savages, leaving the little one to die. When Mrs. Hunsaker became so weak and exhausted that she could not continue the journey she was scalped and thrown by the wayside. For one cause or another all the members of the family with the exception of one small boy were finally killed. This boy grew to manhood among the Indians and married an Indian squaw. He adopted all the manners and cus- toms of the people with whom he lived, even to the wearing of a ring in his nose, and rings in his ears; and although "Indian Jake," as he was called, paid a visit to his white relatives in later years, he soon became dissatisfied and re- turned to the Indians. Henry Hamilton and his family, consisting of his wife and two children, a son and a daughter, lived back of what is now Holt's drug store, in Fairmont, during the period of Indian raids. One evening the children went for the cows, and on reaching the top of a hill they discovered two Indians sitting on a log. They returned home in great haste, and reported what they had seen. The family im- mediately closed the house and dropped down the river in canoes to the fort on the old fair grounds near Palatine, leaving two large dogs to guard their belongings. The next day, how- ever, when they returned, nothing had been disturbed. In the early 30's a family moved into a log cabin on a hill near Catawba. There were three children in the family覧two girls and one boy. One day their father went to Morgan- town to get supplies, and, as night approached, the cabin was fired upon by a band of Indians. The mother protected her little brood as well as she could, courageously returning the fire with her rifle, but they were in great danger. Her son, a lad of fourteen, wishing to aid his mother, took his whistle, and slipping out of the house, climbed a cherry tree and blew it again and again. When the doleful sound fell upon the ears of the Indians they were astonished and frightened, for they could not tell from whence it came. At last they fled in terror and did not return. The last Indian killed in Marion County met his death at the hands of Levi Morgan who, with his father and brother James, was on his way to pay a visit to David Morgan, who lived across the Monongahela River from Prickett's Fort. The body of the Indian was placed under the driftwood and undergrowth beside the river. The Indian had evidently been on a marauding expedition as he carried two scalps, one taken from the head of a man and the other from the head of a woman, be- sides a quantity of gold and silver money. In after years a quaint and curious legend grew up around this Indian. A mill was erected near the scene of his death by a man named Jeffers; and Aunt Betty Jeffers told that as she sat in the door of the old mill the song of a spirit came to her across the water like a voice from fairyland, and Bridget McCallahan, Aunt Betty's maid, listened to the song of the spirit until the words were firmly fixed in her mind and she committed them to paper: I am weary, I am weary, Watching wearily here; I am weary and uncheery. In this watchfulpess so drear. Our forests all have faded. No warriors brave now stand. Their dust is by the whirlwind tossed, Mine mingles with the sand. Its waters are gently parting now, Adown yon rivers flow; They beat along the eastern strand Of the Mo-non-ga-he-la, I am going, I am going. My guardianship is o'er; I am going to the hunting ground覧 Farewell, I come no more. It is an interesting bit of evidence of the superstitious spirit of the times to note that Jeffers and McGintly sold their mill soon after its construction. We are told that the last red man seen in the county stood on a hill and watched the building of the Bamestown mill on Buffalo Creek. Long he stood there, silent and alone; then he passed beyond the brow of the hill, and was gone forever. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -