U.S. Data Repository http://www.us-data.org/ -- USGenNet Inc. -- Please read the U.S. Data Repository Copyright Statement on the following page: --------------------------------------------------------------------- History of Wetzel County, West Virginia by John C. McEldowney, Jr., 1901 Pages 8-20 LOUIS WETZEL, THE BOONE OF WEST VIRGINIA, And His Adventures Among the Indians. In the year of 1772 the four Zane brothers settled at the mouth of Wheeling creek; with them came an honest, brave, but rough old German, by the name of John Wetzel, the father of Louis, the bold, wary and tireless Indian hunter of West Virginia, whose name was a household word throughout the State. He was also the father of four more sons and two daughters. His sons were Martin, George, John and Jacob. The two daughters were Susan and Christina. The latter books of Indian wars which contain the story of John Wetzel, say he was killed up Wheeling creek, but the old Border Books, whose authors have talked with the notorious Louis Wetzel, say that his father was killed near Captina in 1787. "On his return from Middle Island Creek, himself and companion," says the author of the Western Border, "were in a canoe paddling slowly near the shore of the Ohio river, when they were hailed by a party of Indians, and ordered to land; this they of course refused, when immediately they were fired upon and Wetzel was shot through the body. Feeling himself mortally wounded, he directed his companion to lie down in the canoe, while he (Wetzel) so long as strength remained, would paddle the frail vessel beyond the reach of the savages; in this way he saved the life of his friend, while his own was ebbing away fast. He died soon after reaching the shore at Baker's Station, a few miles north from where he was shot." The author (McEldowney) claims that the foregoing is a true statement as to the death of John Wetzel, from the fact that a humble grave can be seen near the scene of the old fortress, and a rough stone marks the spot, bearing the inscription in rough and rude, but plain, letters: J. W. 1787. The first event in the life of our hero occurred when he was but sixteen years of age. The Indians had not been very troublesome in the vicinity in which his father lived, and one day while he and Jacob, his younger brother, were out playing, he was amazed to find a gun pointed at him, and started to run towards the house, upon which he was shot in the breast, which wounded him severely, but not dangerously. In an instant two warriors sprung upon him and his brother and made them prisoners, and they were taken about twenty miles from home. During the march, Louis suffered very much with the wound he had received from their hands, but bore it with courage, knowing that if he complained he would immediately be tomahawked and scalped. When night came they built a fire and laid down to rest, but did not tie their prisoners, as was the usual custom. When the Indians were asleep, Louis having cautioned his brother in the meantime, not to sleep, they arose and pushed into the woods, where they instanly paused, Louis finding that they could go no further without moccasins; he returned to camp and secured the moccasins, and after fitting them on his brother returned to get his father's gun, which the Indians had stolen from his house, and returning, went onward till they were again among friends, having escaped from the Indians without detection. The following are incidents in the life of Louis Wetzel, taken from the "Mirror of Olden Time Border Life." "The first I recollect of seeing this distinguished warrior was when he attached himself to a scouting party, about the year 1787. My father then lived on the bank of the Ohio in Virginia, at a place known as the Mingo Bottom, three miles below Steubenville. A party of Indians had crossed the Ohio not far from where we lived, killed a family and then made their escape with impunity. As the Indians had hot crossed the Ohio in that neighborhood for a year or two previous the settlers began to think that they could live with safety in their cabins. This unexpected murder spread great alarm through the sparse settlement and revenge was determined upon. Some of the settlers, who were in very easy circumstances, in order to stimulate the young and active to take vengeance on the enemy, proposed to draw up a subscription, and give a handsome reward to the man who would bring the first Indian scalp. Upwards of one hundred dollars was subscribed. Major McMahon, who frequently led the hardy frontiersmen in those perilous times, soon raised a company of about twenty men, among whom was Louis Wetzel. They crossed the Ohio and pursued the Indians' trail with unerring tact, till they came to the Muskingum river. There the advance, or spies, discovered a party of Indians far superior to their own in number, camped on the bank of the river. As the Indians had not yet discovered the white men, Major McMahon retreated with his party to the top of the hill, where they might consult about their future operations. The conclusion of the conference was, 'that discretion was the better part of valor,' and a hasty retreat was prudently resolved on. While the party were consulting on the propriety of attacking the Indians, Louis Wetzel sat on a log, with his gun laid across his lap, and his tomahawk in his hand; he took no part in the council. As soon as the resolution was adopted to retreat, it was without delay put into execution, and the party set off, leaving Louis sitting on the log. Major McMahon called to him, and inquired if he was going with them. Louis answered, "that he was not; that he came out to hunt Indians; that he was not going home like a fool with his finger in his mouth. He would take an Indian scalp, or lose his own before he went home." All their arguments were without avail. The stubborn, unyielding disposition was such, that he never submitted himself to the control or advice of others; they were compelled to leave him, a solitary being in the midst of the thick forest, surrounded by vigilant enemies. Notwithstanding this solitary individual appeared to rush into danger with the fury of a mad man, in his disposition was displayed the cunning of a fox, as well as the boldness of the lion. As soon as his friends had left him, he picked up his blanket, shouldered his rifle, and struck off into a different part of the country, in hope that fortune would place in his way some lone Indian. He kept aloof from the large streams, where large parties of the enemy generally encamped. He travelled through the woods with a noiseless tread, and the keen glance of the eagle, that day and the next, till evening, when he discovered a smoke curling up above the bushes. He crept softly to the fire and found two blankets and a small copper kettle in the camp. He instantly concluded that this was the camp of only two Indians, and he could kill them both. He concealed himself in the thick brush, but in such position that he could see the number and motions of the enemy. About sunset one of the Indians came in, made up the fire, and went to cooking his supper. Shortly after the other came in; they ate their suppers, after which they began to sing and amuse themselves by telling comic stories, at which they would burst into a roar of laughter. Singing and telling stories was the common practice of the white and red men when lying in their hunting camps. These poor fellows, when enjoying themselves in the utmost glee, little dreamed that the grim monster, death, in the shape of Louis Wetzel, was about stealing a march on them. Louis kept a keen watch on their maneuvers. About nine or ten o'clock at night, one of the Indians wrapped his blanket around him, shouldered his rifle, took a chunk of fire in his hands, and left the camp, doubtless with the intention of going to watch a deer lick. The fire and smoke would serve to keep off the gnats and mosquitoes. It is a remarkable fact, that deer are not alarmed at seeing fire, from the circumstance of seeing it so frequently in the fall and winter season, when the leaves and grass are dry. The absence of the Indian was the cause of vexation and disappointment to our hero, whose trap was so happily set, and he considered his game secure. He still indulged the hope that the Indians might return to camp before day. In this he was disappointed. There were birds in the woods who chirped and gave notice to the woodsman that the day would soon appear. Louis heard the wooded songsters begin to chatter, and determined to delay no longer the work of death for the return of the Indian. He walked to the camp with a noiseless step, and found his victim buried in profound sleep, lying upon his side. He drew his butcher knife, and with all his force, impelled by revenge, he thrust the blade through his heart. He said the Indian gave a short quiver and repulsive motion, and faded away in death's eternal sleep. He then scalped him, and set off for home. He arrived at Mingo Bottom only one day after his unsuccessful companions. He claimed, and as he should, received his reward. Some time after, General Harmer had erected a fort at the mouth of Muskingum river. He prevailed upon some white men to go with a flag among the nearest Indian tribes, and endeavor to prevail with them to come to the fort, and there to conclude a treaty of peace. A large number of Indians came on general invitation, and camped on the Muskingum river, a few miles above its mouth. General Harmer issued a proclamation, giving notice that a cessation of arms was mutually agreed upon, between the white and the red men, till an effort for a treaty of peace was made. As treaties of peace with the Indians had been so frequently violated, but little faith was placed in the stability of such treaties by the frontiersmen, notwithstanding they were as frequently the aggressors, as were the Indians. Half of the frontier men of that day had been born in a fort and grew to manhood, as it were, in a siege. The Indian war had continued so long and was so bloody that they believed war with them was to continue as long as one lived to make fight. With these oppressions, as they considered the Indian truthless, it was difficult to inspire confidence in the stability of such treaties. While General Harmer was diligently engaged in making peace with the Indians, Wetzel concluded to go to Fort Harmer, and as the Indians would be passing and repassing between their camp and the Fort, would offer a fair opportunity for killing one. He associated himself in this enterprise with Veich Dickinson, who was only a small grade below himself in restlessness and daring. As soon as the enterprise was resolved upon, the desired point, and set themselves down in ambush near the path leading from the fort and the Indian camp. Shortly after they had concealed themselves by the wayside, they saw an Indian approaching on horse- back, running his horse at full speed. They called to him, but owing to the clatter of the horse's feet, he did not heed or hear their call, but kept on at a sweeping gallop. When the Indian had nearly passed they concluded to give him a fire as he rode. They fired, but as the Indian did not fall they thought they had missed him. As the alarm would soon be spread that an Indian had been shot at, and as large numbers of them were at hand, they commenced an immediate retreat to their home. As their neighbors well knew their object, as soon as they returned they were asked what luck. Wetzel answered that they had bad luck; that they shot at an Indian on horseback and missed him; but the truth was, that they had shot him in the lower part of his body on which he rode to camp, and expired that night of his wound. It was soon rumored that Lewis Wetzel was the murderer. General Harmer sent a Captain Kingsbury with a company of men to the Mingo Bottom, with orders to take Wetzel, dead or alive, a useless and impotent order. A company of men could as easily have taken Old Horny out of the bottomless pit as to take Lewis Wetzel by force from the neighborhood of Mingo Bottom. On the day Captain Kingsbury arrived, there was a shooting match at my father's, and Lewis was there. As soon as the object of Captain Kingsbury was ascertained, it was resolved to ambush the Captain's barge and kill him and his men. Happily, Major McMahon was present to prevent this catastrophe, and prevailed upon Wetzel and his friends to suspend the attack until he could pay Captain Kingsbury a visit, and perhaps he would prevail with them to return without making an attempt to take Wetzel. With a great deal of reluctance they agreed to suspend the attack until Major McMahon returned. The resentment and fury of Wetzel and his men were boiling and blowing like the steam from a steamboat. "A pretty affair is this," they said, "to hang a man for killing an Indian, when they are killing some of our people every day" Major McMahon informed Captain Kingsbury of the force and fury of the people, and assured them if they persisted in the attempt to seize Wetzel that he would have all of the settlers in the country upon him; that nothing could save them from being massacred, but a speedy return. The Captain took his advice and forthwith returned to Fort Harmer. Wetzel now considered the affair as finally settled. As Lewis was never long stationary, but ranged at will along the river from Ft. Pitt to the falls of the Ohio, and was a welcome guest and perfectly at home wherever he went, shortly after the attempt to seize him by Captain Kingsbury and his men, he got into a canoe with the intention of proceeding down the Ohio river to Kentucky. He had a friend by the name of Hamilton Carr, who had lately settled on an island near Ft. Harmer. Here he stopped, with the intention of stopping for the night. By some means, which never was explained, General Harmer was advised of his being on the island. A guard was sent who crossed to the island, surrounded Mr. Carr's house, went in, and as Wetzel lay asleep he was seized by numbers, his hands and feet were securely bound, and he was hurried to a boat, and from thence placed in a guard room, where he was loaded with irons. The ignominy of wearing iron hand cuffs and hobbles, and being chained down, to a man of his independent and resolute spirit was more than he could bear; it was to him more painful than death; shortly after he was confined, he sent for General Harmer, and requested a visit. The General went. Wetzel admitted without hesitation, "that he had shot an Indian." As he did not wish to be hung like a dog, he requested the General to give him up to the Indians, as there was a large number present. "He might place them all in a circle, with their scalping knives and tomahawks, and give him a tomahawk, and place him in the midst of the circle, and then let him and the Indians fight it out in the best way they could." The General told him, "That he was an officer appointed by the law, by which he must be governed. As the law did not authorize him to make such a compromise, he could not grant his request." After a few days longer confinement, he again sent for the General to come and see him; and he did so. Wetzel said, he "had never been confined, and could not live much longer if he was not permitted to walk about." The General ordered the officer on guard to knock off his iron fetters but to leave on his handcuffs, and permit him to walk about on the point at the mouth of the Muskingum; but to be sure and keep a close watch upon him. As soon as they were outside of the fort gate, Lewis began to caper about like a wild colt broke loose from the stall. He would start and run a few yards as if he was about making an escape, then turn round and join the guard. The next start he would run farther, and then stop. In this way he amused the guard for some time, at every start running a little farther. At length, he called forth all his strength, resolution and activity, and determined on freedom or an early grave. He gave a sudden spring forward, and. bounded1 off at the top of his speed for the shelter of his beloved woods. His movement was so quick, and so unexpected, that the guard were taken by surprise, and he got nearly a hundred yards before they recovered their astonishment. They fired, but all missed; they followed in pursuit, but he soon left them out of sight. As he was well acquainted with the country, he made for a dense thicket, two or three miles from the fort. In the midst of this thicket he found a tree which had fallen across a log, where the brush were very close. Under the tree he squeezed his body. The brush were so thick that he could not be discovered unless his pursuers examined very closely. As soon as his escape was announced, General Harmer started the soldiers and Indians in pursuit. After he had laid about two hours in his place of concealment, two Indians came into the thicket and stood on the log, under which he lay concealed. His heart beat so violently he was afraid they would hear it thumping. He could hear them hallooing in every direction, as they hunted through the brush. At length, the evening wore away the day, he found himself alone in the friendly thicket. But what could he do? His hands were fastened with iron cuffs and bolts, and he knew of no friend on the same side of the Ohio to whom he could apply for assistance. He had a friend who had recently put up a cabin on the Virginia side of the Ohio, who, he had no doubt, would lend him any assistance in his power. With the most gloomy foreboding of the future, a little after night- fall he left the thicket and made his way to the Ohio. He came to the river about three or four miles below the fort. He took this circuit, as he expected guards would be set at every point where he could find a canoe. How to get across the river was the all-important question. He could not make a raft with his hands bound. He was an excellent swimmer, but he was fearful he could not swim the Ohio with his heavy iron handcuffs. After pausing some time, he determined to make the attempt. Nothing worse than death could happen; and he would prefer drowning to again falling into the hands of Harmer and his Indians. Like the illustrious Caesar in the storm, he would trust the event to fortune; and he plunged into the river. He swam the greatest part of the distance on his back, and reached the Virginia shore in safety; but so much exhausted that he had to lay on the beach some time before he was able to rise. He went to the cabin of his friend, where he was received with rapture. A file and hammer soon released him from his iron handcuffs. His friend (I have forgotten his name) furnished him with a gun, ammunition and blanket, and he was again free, and prepared to engage in any new enterprise that would strike his fancy. He got into a canoe, and went to Kentucky, where he considered himself safe from the grasp of General Harmer. After this unfortunate happening he went south, where he staid for about five years, and his friends and relatives were wondering as to his whereabouts, and upon inquiry learned of his close confinement at Natches, having been convicted of a felony; some say counterfeiting, and some say being intimate with the wife of a Spaniard; the latter probably being the cause. His friends immediately received a pardon for him, upon which he returned home (Wheeling), where he resided with a near relative, Mrs. George Crookis, and upon being joked by her, she asked him if it was not about time for him to choose a wife, upon which he replied that "there is no one in this world for him, but in Heaven." He returned south after being at the Crookis homestead for a number of years, vowing to avenge himself against the Spaniard, who had put him in jail for something he said he had never done. Whether he did or not was never known. "The appearance of Louis Wetzel," says Judge Poster, "looked to be about twenty-six years of age, about five feet ten inches high, being full breasted and very broad across the shoulders, his face being heavily pitted from the effects of smallpox; his hair reached to the calves of his legs." David Mclntire, of the county of Belmont, Ohio, was the last man known to have seen Louis Wetzel. He saw him at Natches, where he was on a visit to a friend, one Phillip Sykes. He died in 1808. The number of scalps taken by him is unestimable; the best authorities estimate it at something near one hundred. STOUT HEARTED LOUIS WETZEL. Stout hearted Louis Wetzel Rides down the river shore, The wilderness behind him, The wilderness before. He rides in the cool of morning, Humming the dear old tune, "Into the heart of the greenwood, Into the heart of June." He needs no guide in the forest More than the honey bees; His guides are the cool green mosses To the northward of the trees. Nor fears him the foe whose footstep Is light as the summer air; His tomahawk hangs in his shirt belt, The scalp knife glitters there. The stealthy Wyandottes tremble And speak his name with fear, For his aim is sharp and deadly, And his rifle's ring is clear. So pleasantly rides he onward, Pausing to hear the stroke Of the settler's ax in the forest, Or the crack of a falling oak. The partridge drums on the dry oak, The croaking croby crows, The black bird sings in the spice bush, The robin in the haws. And as they chatter and twitter, The wild bird seems to say: "Do not harm us, good Louis, And you shall have luck to-day." A sharp clear ring through the greenwood, And with mightier leap and bound, The pride of the western forest Lies bleeding on the ground. Then out from the leafy shadows A stalwart hunter springs, And his unsheathed scalp knife glittering, Against his rifle rings. "And who art thou," quoth Louis, "That comest twixt me and mine?" And his cheek is flushed with anger, As a bacchant's flushed with wine. "What boots that to thy purpose?" The stranger hot replies; "My rifle marked it living, And mine, when dead, the prize." Then with sinewy arms they grapple, Like giants fierce in brawls, Till stretched along greensward The humble hunter falls. "Now take this rod of alder, Set it by yonder tree A hundred yards beyond me, And wait you there and see." "For he who dares such peril But lightly holds his breath, May his unshrieved soul be ready To welcome sudden death." So the stranger takes the alder, And wandering stands in view, While Wetzel's aim grows steady And he cuts the rod in two. "By heavens," exclaims the stranger, "One only, far and nigh, Hath arms like the lithe young ash tree Or half so keen an eye," "And that is Louis Wetzel," Quoth Louis. "Here he stands." So they speak in gentle manner And clasp their friendly hands. Ride out of the leafy greenwood, As rises the yellow moon, And the purple hills lie pleasantly In the softened air of June. —FLOHUS B. 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