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diff --git a/old/56094-0.txt b/old/56094-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f528488..0000000 --- a/old/56094-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9748 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Allegheny Episodes, by Henry Wharton Shoemaker - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Allegheny Episodes - Folk Lore and Legends Collected in Northern and Western - Pennsylvania, Vol XI. Pennsylvania Folk Lore Series - -Author: Henry Wharton Shoemaker - -Release Date: November 30, 2017 [EBook #56094] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALLEGHENY EPISODES *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, ellinora and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. - -The illustrations have been re-positioned slightly to avoid falling -within a paragraph. - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding -the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. - - INDEX - - --- - - Page - Foreword 3 - Introduction 5 - Tulliallan 9 - At His Bedside 31 - The Prostrate Juniper 40 - Out of the Ashes 51 - Wayside Destiny 64 - The Holly Tree 77 - The Second Run of the Sap 96 - Black Chief’s Daughter 108 - The Gorilla 122 - The Indian’s Twilight 135 - Hugh Gibson’s Captivity 147 - Girty’s Notch 161 - Poplar George 175 - Black Alice Dunbar 186 - Abram Antoine, Bad Indian 199 - Do You Believe in Ghosts? 219 - A Stone’s Throw 234 - The Turning of the Belt 247 - Riding His Pony 265 - The Little Postmistress 271 - The Silent Friend 290 - The Fountain of Youth 298 - Compensations 310 - A Misunderstanding 326 - A Haunted House 339 - -[Illustration: - - OUTPOSTS OF THE ALLEGHENIES. (Photograph by W. H. Rau.) - Frontispiece -] - - Allegheny Episodes - - Folk Lore and Legends Collected in - Northern and Western Pennsylvania - - _By_ HENRY W. SHOEMAKER - - Volume XI Pennsylvania Folk Lore Series - -[Illustration] - -“The country east of the Mississippi was inhabited by a very powerful -nation. * * * Those people called themselves Alligewi. * * * The -Allegheny River and Mountains have been named after them. * * * The -Lenni-Lenape still call the river Alligewi Sipu, the river of the -Alligewi, but it is generally known by its Iroquois name–Ohe-Yu–which -the French had literally translated into La Belle Riviere, The Beautiful -River, though a branch of it retains the ancient name Allegheny.” - - –John Heckewelder. - - ALTOONA, PENNSYLVANIA - Published by the Altoona Tribune Company - 1922 - Copyright: All Rights Reserved. - -[Illustration] - - _Foreword_ - - -The author tells me that I was his discoverer, and that without a -discoverer we cannot do anything. Very true; one American author had to -write till he was forty-eight, and then be discovered in Japan. Henry W. -Shoemaker was discovered nearer home, and by a humbler scholar. - -In my last foreword I emphasized the value of folk-lore. Its -significance grows upon me with age. I have now come to regard it as a -kind of appendix to Scripture. Outside of mere magic, an abuse of -correspondences, as Swedenborg calls it, there is in folk-lore a digest -of the spiritual insight of the plain people. It also contains actual -facts boiled to rags. For instance, in 1919 the dying Horace Traubel saw -in vision his life-long idol, Walt Whitman, and the apparition was also -seen by Colonel Cosgrave, who felt a shock when it touched him. - -The flimsy modern paper whereon the scientific account of this is -printed will soon perish, and then there will be nothing left but loose -literary references and memories to witness that it happened. Any -skeptic can challenge these, and the apparition will become folk-lore. -As it is in its scientific setting in the Journal of the American -Society for Psychical Research for 1921, it is a side light on the -Transfiguration. For if Whitman appeared to Traubel in 1919, and -Swedenborg appeared to Andrew Jackson Davis in 1844, why should not the -great predecessors of Christ appear also to him? - -Such is the value of folk-lore, and for this reason the Armenian Church -did well to attach an appendix of apocrypha to the Holy Gospel. In such -a document as the uncanonical Gospel of “Peter” (this was not one of the -Armenian selections, but it ought to have been, in spite of the fact -that the Mother Church of Syria had suppressed it) the life of Christ is -seen in a dissolving view, blending with the folk-lore of the time; and -let us hope that some day this valuable piece of ancient thought will be -printed with the New Testament instead of some of the unimportant matter -that too often accompanies it. - - ALBERT J. EDMUNDS. - THE HISTORICAL SOCIETY OF PENNSYLVANIA, - Philadelphia, March 1, 1921. - - _Introduction_ - - -It is a good thing to make resolves, but a better thing, once having -made them, to keep them. On two previous occasions the compiler of the -present volume has stated his resolve in prefaces to issue no more books -of the kind, but has gone ahead and prepared more. Probably the motive -that brought into existence the first volume can be urged in extenuation -for the eleventh, namely, the desire to preserve the folk-lore of the -Pennsylvania Mountains. - -The contents of the present volume, like its predecessors, were gathered -orally from old people and others, and written down as closely as -possible to the verbal accounts. In order to escape ill feeling, as in -the case with the earlier volumes, some names of persons and places, and -dates have been changed. This has been done with the greatest -reluctance, and only where absolutely necessary. The characters are real -persons, and most of them appear under their rightful names. Many of the -legends or incidents run counter to the accepted course of history, but -tradition is preserved for what it is worth, and the reader can draw his -own conclusions. While some of these tales end unhappily, the proportion -is not greater than in life as we know it, and the general ascendency of -right over wrong shines through the gloomiest passages. Life could not -exist, or the world go on, unless the majority of events ended -fortuitously; it is that happy preponderance which makes “hope spring -eternal,” and is so often rewarded by a realization of the heart’s -desire. - -The various phases of the supernatural in the ensuing pages depicts -probably a more normal condition of our relationship with the unseen -world than the crude and clumsy mediumship found in the big cities, and -may present a rational explanation of life “behind the dark curtain.” - -There is certainly a spiritual life, and a purely spiritual God, and all -the events of the soul are regulated by divine laws, which have only too -frequently been confused with the physical life so subject to chance and -reversion back to chaos. - -The origins of Pennsylvania folk-lore seem to the writer like a happy -blending of Indian and European elements which would have gradually, had -backwoods conditions continued, developed into a definitely -Pennsylvanian mythology. The fact that the writer had so many more -legends in form of notes, which otherwise would have been mislaid and -come to nothing, prompted him to break his resolve and prepare the -present volume. And, for good or ill, he has many more, dealing with -other parts of the State. What shall be their fate? Are they worthy of -perpetuation as folk-lore? Apart from the general idea of preserving -legendary matter for future generations, there is the added reason that -the heroic lines of some of the characters appealed to him, and, to save -them from the oblivion of the “forgotten millions,” their careers have -been herein recorded. - -Probably one-half of the stories were told to the compiler by one -lady–Mrs. W. J. Phillips, of Clinton County--who spent some of her -girlhood days, many years ago, on the Indian Reservations in -Pennsylvania and southwestern New York. - -Professor J. S. Illick, Chief of the Bureau of Research of the -Pennsylvania Department of Forestry, is due thanks for securing many of -the illustrations. Four of the chapters–Nos. IX, XV, XXI, XXII–are -reprinted from the compiler’s historical brochure, “Penn’s Grandest -Cavern,” and the first chapter, “Tulliallan,” was published in the -“Sunbury Daily”; otherwise none of the chapters of this book have -hitherto appeared in print. - -Persons interested in more intimate details concerning the origins and -characters of the various tales will be cheerfully accommodated “for -private circulation only.” Like James Macpherson of “Ossian,” it can be -said “the sources of information are open to all.” - -The compiler hopes that through this book a more general interest in the -Pennsylvania folk-lore can be created; its predecessors have missed -achieving this, but there is always that hope springing afresh to -“Godspeed” the newest volume. No pretense at style of literary -workmanship is claimed, and the stories should be read, not as romances -or short stories, but as a by-product of history–the folk-lore, the -heart of the Pennsylvania mountain people. With this constantly borne in -mind, a better understanding and appreciation of the meanings of the -book may be arrived at. - -The kindly reception accorded to the previous volumes, and also to -“North Pennsylvania Minstrelsy” by the press and by a small circle of -interested readers, if equalled by the present volume will satisfy the -compiler, if his ambitions for a wider field of usefulness are not to be -realized. - -To those of press and public who have read and commented on the earlier -volumes go the compiler’s gratitude, and to them he commends this book, -the tales of which have had their origins mostly along the main chain of -the Allegheny Mountains and on the western watershed. Sincere thanks are -due to Miss Mary E. Morrow, whose intelligence and patience in -transcribing the manuscripts of this and the majority of the earlier -volumes of the series has had much to do with whatever recognition they -may have achieved, and a pleasant memory to the author, as well. - - HENRY W. SHOEMAKER. - -Department of Forestry, - State Capitol, Harrisburg, - February 23, 1922. - -P. S.–Thanks are also due to Mrs. E. Horace Quinn, late of Bucknell -University, for her kindness in revising the proofs. - - 9-5-22. - -[Illustration] - - I - _Tulliallan_ - - -“Why, yes, you may accompany your Uncle Thomas and myself to select the -plate which we plan to present to the battleship of the line, ‘The -Admiral Penn,’ which the First Lord, His Grace, Duke of Bedford, has -graciously named in honor of your distinguished grandsire,” said Richard -Penn, pompously, answering a query addressed to him by his young son, -John. - -The youth, who was about eighteen years of age and small and slight, -seemed delighted, and waited impatiently with his father for Uncle -Thomas’ arrival. Soon a liveried footman announced the arrival of Thomas -Penn, and the brothers, after embracing, started from the imposing -mansion in New Street, Spring Gardens (near the Admiralty Arch), -accompanied by the younger scion and a retinue of secretaries, retainers -and footmen. - -It so happened that the leading silversmith in the city, James Cox, was -of the Quaker faith, to which William Penn, the famous founder of -Pennsylvania, and father of Richard and Thomas, belonged, and was -particularly pleased to be the recipient of this costly and important -order. It was an occasion of such importance to him that his wife, sons -and daughter had come to his place of business to witness the -transaction and, perhaps, meet the aristocratic customers. - -As they entered the establishment, the tradesman himself opened the -door, bowing low as the two portly gentlemen, with their plum-colored -coats, snuff boxes and walking sticks, entered arm in arm, followed by -the diminutive John, in a long, red coat, while the minions of various -degrees waited outside, clustered about the gilded chairs. - -It must be understood that these sons of William Penn were not members -of the Society of Friends, but had assumed the faith of their -grandfather, the Admiral, and founder of the family fortunes, and young -John was nominally a member of the same faith. - -The portly and self-important gentlemen were soon absorbed in studying -the various designs of silver services, while the restless and -half-interested gaze of young John wandered about the salesroom. It was -not long in falling on the slender, demure form of Maria Cox, the -silversmith’s only daughter. Clad in her Quaker garb and bonnet, she was -certainly a picture of loveliness, almost seventeen years old, with deep -blue eyes, dark brows and lashes, fair complexion, with features -exaggerately clearcut, made John Penn’s senses reel in a delirium of -enthusiasm. - -Ordinarily he would have become impatient at the delay in selecting the -silver service, for the older gentlemen were slow of decision and he was -a spoiled child, but this time he was lost in admiration and he cared -not if they remained in the shop for the balance of the day. John Penn, -himself, for a small lad was not unprepossessing; his hair was golden, -his eyes expressive and blue, his complexion like a Dresden china -doll’s, his form erect and very slim, yet few girls had fancied him, for -he was selfish and not inclined to talk. - -Seeing that he was not assisting his elders in selecting the silverware, -Mrs. Cox, the wife, and a woman of some tact and breeding, introduced -conversation with the young man, eventually drawing her daughter into -it, and it was a case of love quickly on both sides. - -When, after four hours of selecting and changing and selecting again, -the Penns finally accepted a design and placed their order, John had -arranged that he was to dine with the Cox family and see the young -beauty frequently. All went well until the day appointed for the visit -to the home of the silversmith. John Penn presented himself before his -father attired in his best red velvet coat with gold facings, white -satin knee breeches, pumps with diamond buckles, his face much powdered, -and sporting a pearl inlaid sword. The elder Penn demanded to know the -cause of the youth’s magnificence, for ordinarily his Quaker blood -showed itself in a distaste for fancy apparel. - -“To dine with Mr. and Mrs. James Cox and their charming daughter, whom I -much admire,” was the calm rejoinder. - -“What, what,” fairly shouted the father, almost having an apoplectic -attack on the spot; “dining with common tradespeople! You must be in a -frenzy, son; we’ll have you in Bedlam.” - -“I don’t see why you talk that way, father,” said John, retaining his -composure. “Are we so very different? It was only a few generations back -when the Penns were plain rural yeomen, and Madame van der Schoulen, or -Grandmother Penn, your own mother, was she not the daughter of a Dutch -tradesman?” - -“Don’t speak that way, lad; the servants may hear, and lose respect,” -said the father. - -The lad had touched a sore subject, and he preferred to let him keep his -engagement rather than to have an expose on the subject of ancestry. - -The dinner and visit were followed by others, but at home John’s romance -did not run smoothly, and he quickly realized that his father and Uncle -Thomas, whose heir he was to be, would never consent to his marriage -with the daughter of a silversmith. Consequently, a trip to Gretna Green -was executed, and John Penn, aged nineteen, and Maria Cox, seventeen, -were duly made man and wife. - -When Richard Penn and his brother Thomas were apprised of what he had -done they locked him in his room, and after night got him to the -waterfront and on a ship bound for the French coast. He was carried to -Paris and there carefully watched, but meanwhile supplied with money, -all that he could spend. Temporarily he forgot all about Maria Cox, -plunging into the gaieties of the French Capital, gambling and betting -on horse races, the “sport of kings” having been only recently -introduced in France, until he was deeply in debt. He became very ill, -and was taken to Geneva to recuperate. There he was followed by -representatives of his creditors, who threatened to have him jailed for -debt–a familiar topic in family talk to him, for his grandfather, -William Penn, despite his ownership of Pennsylvania, had been arrested -for debt many times and was out on bail on a charge of non-payment of -loans made from his steward at the time of his death. - -John wrote frantically to his father in London, who turned a deaf ear to -the prodigal; not so Uncle Thomas. He replied that he would save the boy -from jail and pay his debts, provided he would divorce his wife and go -to Pennsylvania for an indefinite period. John was ready to promise -anything; a representative of the Penn’s financial interests settled all -the claims in and out of Paris, and John Penn was free. - -While waiting at Lille for a ship to take him from Rotterdam to -Philadelphia, the young man was advised to come to London for a day to -say good-bye to his relatives. The packet was expected in the Thames on -a certain day, but got into a terrific storm and was tossed about the -North Sea and the Channel for a week, and no one was at the dock to meet -the dilapidated youth on his arrival at Fleet Street. - -As he passed up the streets in Cheapside, to his surprise he ran into -the fair figure of his bride, the deserted Maria Cox-Penn. He was again -very much in love, and she ready to forgive. They spent the balance of -the day together, enjoying a fish ordinary at a noted restaurant in -Bird-in-Hand Court. Over the meal it was arranged that Maria should -follow her husband to America; meanwhile, he would provide a home for -her over there under an assumed name, until he became of age, when he -would defy his family to again tear them asunder. - -None of John Penn’s family had the slightest suspicion of anything out -of the usual when he presented himself in their midst, and he returned -quietly to Lille, where he remained until the ship was announced as -ready to take him to America. He arrived in New York during a terrible -tornado, in November, 1752. At Philadelphia he evinced little interest -in anything except to take a trip into the interior. As he had plenty of -money, he could accomplish most anything he wanted, and was not watched. -On his way to the Susquehanna country he traveled with an armed -bodyguard, as there were even then renegade Indians and road agents -abroad. A number of less distinguished travelers and their servants -were, for safety’s sake, allowed to accompany the party. Among them was -a man of fifty-five, named Peter Allen, to whom young John took a -violent fancy. - -It was not unusual, for Peter Allen was what the Indians recognized as a -_gentleman_, although he was only a cadet, or what we would call -nowadays a “poor relation” of the proud Allen family, the head of which -was William Allen, Chief Justice of the Province, a man about Peter -Allen’s age, and for whom Northampton or Allensville, now Allentown, was -named. - -Peter Allen had built a stone house or trading post, which he called -“Tulliallan” after one of the ancestral homes of the Allen family in -Scotland, on the very outpost of civilization, twenty miles west of -Harris’ Ferry, where all manner of traders, hunters, missionaries, -explorers and sometimes Indians congregated, where balls were held with -Indian princesses as guests of honor, and the description of this place -fired John Penn’s fancy. - -The idea had flashed through his mind that Maria could harbor there -unknown until he became of age, and some day, despite the silly family -opposition, she would become the Governor’s Lady. John Penn went to -Peter Allen’s, and not only found a refuge for his bride, but liked the -frontier life so well that it was as if he had been born in the -wilderness. Mountains and forests appealed to him, and his latent -democracy found full vent among the diversified types who peopled the -wilderness. - -Peter Allen had three young daughters, Barbara, Nancy and Jessie, whom -he wished schooled, and John Penn arranged that Maria should teach them -and, perhaps, have a select school for other children of the better sort -along the Susquehanna. Peter Allen was secretly peeved at his family for -not recognizing him more, and lent himself to anything that, while not -dishonorable, would bend the proud spirit of the Proprietaries and their -favorites, one of whom was the aforementioned “Cousin Judge” William -Allen. - -John Penn returned to Philadelphia, from where he sent a special -messenger, a sort of valet, to London, who met and safely escorted Maria -to America. She landed at Province Island on the Delaware, remaining in -retirement there for a month, until John could slip away and escort her -personally to Peter Allen’s. - -The girl was bright, well-educated and sensible, and found the new life -to her liking, and her young husband loving and considerate. - -It was in the spring of 1754 when they reached the stone house at the -foot of the Fourth or Peter’s Mountain, and during the ensuing year she -taught the young Allen girls and three other well-bred children, and was -visited frequently by her husband. She assumed the name of Mary Warren, -her mother’s maiden name, which proved her undoing. All went well until -representatives of the Penns in London learned that Maria Cox-Penn was -missing, and they traced her on shipboard through the name “Mary -Warren,” eventually locating her as the young school-mistress at -“Tulliallan.” - -The next part of this story is a hard one to write, as one hates to make -accusations against dead and gone worthies who helped to found our -beloved Pennsylvania; but, at any rate, without going into whys and -wherefores, “Mary Warren” mysteriously disappeared. Simultaneously went -Joshua, the friendly Indian who lived at the running spring on the top -of Peter’s Mountain, and Arvas, or “Silver Heels,” another Indian, whose -cabin was on the slopes of Third (now called Short) Mountain, near -Clark’s Creek. - -[Illustration: VIRGIN WHITE PINES, WARREN COUNTY, 1912] - -It was in the early summer of 1755 when John Penn, accompanied only by -one retainer, John Monkton, a white-bearded veteran of Preston, rode out -of the gateway of the stockade of John Harris’ trading post, bound for -Peter Allen’s. His heart was glad and his spirits elated for, moody lad -that he was, he dearly loved his wife and her influence over him was -good. - -On the very top of the Second Mountain he drew rein, and in the clear -stillness of the Sunday morning listened to a cheewink poised on the -topmost twig of a chestnut sprout, and viewed the scenes below him. In -an ample clearing at the foot of Fourth Mountain he could see Peter -Allen’s spacious stone mansion, where his love was probably at that -minute instructing the little class in the beauties of revealed -religion. They would soon be united, and he was so wonderfully happy! - -As the cool morning breeze swayed the twig on which the cheewink -perched, it sang again and again, “Ho-ho-hee, ho-ho-hee, ho-ho-hee!” in -a high key, and with such an ecstasy of joy and youth that all the world -seemed animated with its gladness, yet Penn’s thought as he rode on was, -“I wonder where that bird will be next year; what will it have to -undergo before it can feel the warmth and sunlight of another spring?” - -He hurried his horse so that it stumbled many times going down the -mountain, and splashed the water all over old Monkton in his anxiety to -ford Clark’s Creek. He lathered his horse forcing him to trot up the -steep contrefort which leads to “Tulliallan,” though he weighed hardly -more than one hundred and twenty pounds. He drew rein before the door; -no one rushed out to greet him, even the dogs were still. He made his -escort dismount and pound the heavy brass knocker, fashioned in the form -of an Indian’s head. After some delay, Peter Allen himself appeared, -looking glum and deadly pale. - -“What is wrong?” cried Penn who was naturally as intuitive as a woman, -noting his altered demeanor. - -“Can I tell you, sir, in the presence of your bodyguard?” - -“Out, out with it, Allen,” shouted Penn, “I must know _now_.” - -“Mary Warren has been gone a fortnight, we know not whither. She had -taken the Berryhill children home after classes, and left them about -five o’clock in the evening. She did not return, and we have searched -everywhere. Strange to relate, George Smithgall, the young serving man -whom you left here to look after your apartments, and who accompanied -Mary from London is gone also; draw your own inferences.” - -John Penn’s fair face was as red as his scarlet cloak. Despite Allen’s -urging he would not dismount, but turned his horse’s head toward the -river. He rode to Queenaskawakee, now called Clark’s Ferry, where there -was a famous fording, and, accompanied by his guard, he made the -crossing and posted for the Juniata country. Near Raystown Branch he -caught up with the company of riflemen and scouts organized by “Black -Jack,” the Wild Hunter of the Juniata, who was waiting for General -Braddock’s arrival to enlist in the proposed attack on Fort Duquesne at -Shannopin’s Town, now Pittsburg. Black Jack was no stranger to him, -having often met him at social gatherings at Peter Allen’s, and the -greeting between the two men was very friendly. John Penn occupied the -same cabin as the Wild Hunter, and he told him his story. - -“It is not news to me,” said Captain Jack. “I heard it before, from -Smithgall. He went through here last week hunting for Mary.” - -Despite this reassuring information, Penn refused to believe anything -but that the lovely Quakeress had proved false and eloped with the -German-American serving man. Word came in a few days that the vanguard -of General Braddock’s army had reached the Loyalhanna, and were encamped -there. Captain Jack, with John Penn riding at his side, and followed by -his motley crew with their long rifles–Germans, Swiss, Frenchmen, -Dutchmen, Indians, half breeds, Negroes and Spaniards–approached the -luxurious quarters of General Edward Braddock, late of the Coldstream -Guards. The portly General, his breast blazing with decorations, wearing -his red coat, was seated in a carved armchair in front of a log cabin -erected for his especial use by his pioneers, who preceded him on the -march. A Sergeant-Major conveyed the news of “The Wild Hunter’s” -presence to the General’s Aide, who in turn carried it to the august -presence. - -“I cannot speak to such a fellow, let alone accept him as a brother -officer,” said Braddock, irritably. “Besides, his methods of fighting -are contrary to all discipline, and I want no Pennsylvania troops. Tell -him that if he insists I will make him top-sergeant, and place my own -officers over his company.” - -Captain Jack was half angry, half amused, when the rebuff was handed to -him via the sergeant major. - -“My father was a Spanish gentleman from the Minisink, and my mother a -woman of tolerably good Hessian blood. I see no reason for such rank -exclusiveness.” - -Quickly turning his horse’s head, the sturdy borderer ordered his troop -to proceed eastward. - -“Don’t act too rashly, Captain,” entreated Penn. “General Braddock is -ignorant of this country and Indian methods of warfare. He may have -orders not to enlist native troops, yet without your aid I fear for the -success of his expedition. Please let me intercede with him; he will do -it when he hears that I am your friend.” - -“To the devil with him and his kind, the swinish snob,” growled Captain -Jack, while his black eyes flashed a diabolical hatred; his Spanish -temper was uncontrollable. That night, when Captain Jack and John Penn -were seated at their camp fire at Laurel Run, a messenger, a Major, not -a Sergeant Major, from General Braddock was announced. - -Saluting, the officer asked to be allowed to speak with John Penn, -Esquire. Penn received the officer without rising, and was cooly civil -throughout the interview, which consisted principally of reading a -letter from Braddock, expressing deep regret “that he had not known that -the son of his dear friend, Richard Penn, had been with –-- Jack,” and -offering Penn the captaincy of _Black Jack’s_ company of scouts, “–-- -Jack to be First Lieutenant.” - -Naturally, Captain Jack was more enraged than ever, but he said: “Take -it, John, I’ll withdraw and turn my men, who, you know, are the best -shots in the Province, over to you. They would go through hell for you.” - -“Never fear,” replied Penn, and, turning to the Major, he said: “Tell -General Braddock, with my compliments, that I decline to accept a -commission which he has no authority to tender. As for my companion, -Captain Jack (laying emphasis on the Captain) the General had _his_ -decision earlier in the day. Goodnight, Major.” - -Thus terminated the “conference” which might have changed the face of -history. As the result of Braddock’s pride and folly, his defeat and -death are a part of history, known by every Pennsylvanian. - -John Penn was wretchedly unhappy, even though Captain Jack tried to -console him, when he shrewdly inferred that “Mary” had been kidnapped by -emissaries of his relatives, and had not eloped with a vile serving man. -His heart was too lacerated to remain longer with the Wild Hunter, now -that no active service was to be experienced; so, accompanied by -Monkton, the veteran of Preston, he set out the next morning for the -West Branch of the Susquehanna to the unexplored countries. - -At Waterford Narrows they passed the body of a trader recently killed -and scalped by Indians. - -“May I draw one of his teeth, sir?” said the old soldier, “and you can -carry it in your pocket, for the old people say ‘The only thing that can -break the enchantment of love is the tooth of a dead man’.” - -Penn shook his head and rode on. For a considerable time Penn and Old -Monkton visited with Dagonando (Rock Pine), a noted Indian Chief in -Brush Valley (Centre County), for the young man, like the founder of -Pennsylvania, possessed the same irresistible charm over the redmen. - -Years afterwards, in Philadelphia, speaking to General Thomas Mifflin, -Dagonando stated that had it not been for his unhappy love affairs, John -Penn would have been the equal of his grandfather as Governor, and -prevented the Revolutionary War. But his spirit was crushed; even a mild -love affair with Dagonando’s daughter ended with shocking disaster. -Reaching Fort Augusta, Penn became very ill; a “nervous breakdown” his -ailment would be diagnosed today. During his illness he was robbed of -his diary. He reached Philadelphia in the fall, and almost immediately -set sail for England. He remained abroad until 1763, when he returned as -Governor of Pennsylvania. He arrived in Philadelphia on October 30, in -the midst of the terrific earthquake of that year, and on November 5, -George Roberts in a letter to Samuel Powell, in describing the new Chief -Magistrate, says: - -“His Honor, Penn, is a little gentleman, though he may govern equal to -one seven feet high.” - -Charles P. Keith has thus summed up Penn’s career from the time of his -first arrival in Pennsylvania: “He was one of the Commissioners to the -Congress at Albany in the summer of 1754, and made several journeys to -the neighboring colonies. Nevertheless, his trouble made him again -despondent; he began to shun company; he would have joined Braddock’s -army had any Pennsylvania troops formed part of it, and perhaps have -died on the field which that officer’s imprudence made so disastrous. -Some two months after the defeat he returned to England.” - -On June 6, 1766, a brilliant marriage occurred in Philadelphia. John -Penn, Lieutenant Governor, aged thirty-seven years, married Anne, the -daughter of William Allen, Chief Justice; a strange fate had united the -relative of Peter Allen of “Tulliallan” to the husband of Maria Cox, -pronounced legally dead after an absence of eleven years in parts -unknown. Commenting on this alliance, Nevin Moyer, the gifted Historian, -remarks: “The marriage was an unpleasant one, on his (Penn’s) account, -for he was found very seldom at home.” It was during the wedding that a -fierce electrical storm occurred, unroofing houses and shattering many -old trees. - -It was not long after this marriage when a feeling of restlessness -impelled him to start another of his many trips to the interior. This -time it was given out that he wished to visit Penn’s Valley, the -“empire” discovered in the central part of the province by Captains -Potter and Thompson, and named in his honor, and Penn’s Cave, the source -of the Karoondinha, a beautiful, navigable stream, rechristened “John -Penn’s Creek.” He managed to stop over night, as everyone of any -consequence did, at “Tulliallan,” and slept in the room with the Scotch -thistles carved on the woodwork, and saw Peter Allen for the first time -in twelve years. - -A foul crime had recently been committed in the neighborhood. Indian -Joshua, who used to live at the running spring, had gone to Canada the -year of Braddock’s defeat (the year of Mary’s disappearance, Penn always -reckoned it) and had lately returned to his old abode. He had been shot, -as a trail of blood from his cabin down the mountain had been followed -clear to Clark’s Creek, where it was lost. In fact, pitiful wailing had -been heard one night all the way across the valley, but it was supposed -to be a traveling panther. Arvas, or Silver Heels, had also come back -for a time, but, after Joshua’s disappearance, had gone away. - -“Maybe he killed his friend,” whispered Allen, looking down guiltily, as -he spoke what he knew to be untruthful words. - -“It is all clear to me now, Allen,” said Penn. “I should have believed -Captain Jack, when in ’55 he told me that my late wife was carried off -to Canada by Indians; the kidnappers came back, and for fear that they -would levy hush money on those who had caused my Mary to be stolen, -murdered Joshua as a warning.” - -Allen did not answer, but Penn said: “You have kept a public house so -long that you have forgotten to be a gentleman, and I do not expect you -to tell the truth.” - -In 1840 seekers after nestlings of the vultures climbed to the top of -the King’s Stool, the dizzy pinnacle of the Third Mountain. There they -found the skeleton of an Indian. It was all that was left of Joshua, who -had climbed there in his agony and died far above the scenes which he -loved so dearly. The hunters put the bones in their hunting pouches and -climbed down the “needle,” and buried them decently at the foot of the -rocks. - -The King’s Stool is named for a similar high point near Lough Foyle, -Ireland, and there are also King’s Stools in Juniata and Perry Counties. -The North of Ireland pioneers were glad to recognize scenes similar to -the natural wonders of the Green Isle! - -A great light had come to John Penn, but he accepted his fate -philosophically, just as he had the abuse heaped upon him for his -vacillating policy towards the Indians. He followed up his vigorous -attempt to punish the Paxtang perpetrators of the massacres of the -Conestoga Indians at Christmas time, 1763, by promulgating the infamous -scalp bounty of July, 1764, which bounty, to again quote Professor -Moyer, paid “$134 for an Indian’s scalp, and $150 for a live Indian, and -$50 for an Indian female or child’s scalp.” - -There are not enough Indians to make hunting for bounties in -Pennsylvania a paying occupation today, so instead there is a bounty on -Wildcats and foxes, wiping out desirable wild life to satisfy the -politicians’ filthy greed. - -John Penn returned to Philadelphia without visiting Penn’s Valley or -Penn’s Cave or John Penn’s Creek. He had seen them previously in 1755 -when they bore their original Indian names, and his heart was still sad. -It was not long after returning that he again started on another -expedition up the Susquehanna, traveling by canoe, just as his -grandfather, William Penn, had done in his supposedly fabulous trip to -the sources of the West Branch at Cherry Tree, in 1700. A stop was made -at Fisher’s stone house, Fisher’s Ferry. A group of pioneers had heard -of his coming and gave the little Governor a rousing ovation. He felt -nearest to being happy when among the frontier people, who understood -him, and his trials had, like Byron, made him “the friend of mountains”; -he was still simple at heart. In the kitchen, seated by the inglenook, -he heard someone’s incessant coughing in an inner room. He asked the -landlord, old Peter Fisher, who was suffering so acutely. - -“Why, sir,” replied Fisher, “it’s an Englishwoman dying.” - -In those days people’s nationalities in Pennsylvania were more sharply -defined, and any English-speaking person was always called an -“Englishwoman” or an “Englishman,” as the case might be. - -“Tell me about her,” said the Governor, with ill-concealed curiosity. - -“It’s a strange story, it might give Your Worship offense,” faltered the -old innkeeper. “They tell it, sir, though it’s doubtless a lie, that -Your Excellency cared for this Englishwoman, and your enemies had her -kidnapped by two Indians and taken to Canada. The Indians were paid for -keeping her there until a few years ago, when their remittances suddenly -stopped and they came home; one, it is said, was murdered soon after. -Arvas, his companion, was accused of the crime, but he stopped here for -a night, a few weeks afterwards, and swore to me that he was guiltless. -The Englishwoman finally got away and walked all the way back from a -place called Muskoka, but she caught cold and consumption on the way, -and is on her death-bed now. I knew her in all her youth and beauty at -Peter Allen’s, where she was always the belle of the balls there; she -had been brought up a Quaker, but my, how she could dance. You would not -know her now.” - -“I want to see her,” said the Governor, rising to his feet. - -It was getting dark, so Fisher lit a rushlight, and led the way. He -opened the heavy door without rapping. His wife and daughter sat on -high-backed rush-bottomed chairs on either side of the big four-poster -bed, which had come from the Rhine country. On the bed lay a woman of -about forty years, frightfully emaciated by suffering, whose -exaggeratedly clear-cut features were accentuated in their marble look -by the pallor of oncoming dissolution. Her wavy, dark hair, parted in -the middle, made her face seem even whiter. - -“Mary, Mary,” said the little Governor, as he ran to her side, seizing -the white hands which lay on the flowered coverlet. - -“John, my darling John,” gasped the dying woman. - -“Leave us alone together,” commanded the Governor. - -The women looked at one another as they retired. The thoughts which -their glances carried indicated “well, after all the story’s true.” - -They had been alone for about ten minutes when Penn ran out of the door -calling, “Come quick, someone, I fear she’s going.” - -The household speedily assembled, but in another ten minutes “Mary -Warren,” alias Maria Cox-Penn had yielded up the ghost. She is buried on -the brushy African-looking hillside which faces the “dreamy -Susquehanna,” the Firestone Mountains and the sunset, near where -travelers across Broad Mountain pass every day. John Penn returned to -Philadelphia and took no more trips to the interior. He divided his time -between his town house, 44 Pine Street, and his country seat -“Lansdowne.” - -During the Revolution he was on parole. He died childless. February 9, -1795, and is said to be buried under the floor, near the chancel, in the -historic Christ Church, Philadelphia, which bears the inscription that -he was “One of the Late Proprietors of Pennsylvania.” Most probably his -body was later taken to England. His wife, _nee_ Allen, survived him -until 1813. - -The other night in the grand hall of the Historical Society of -Pennsylvania in the Quaker City, a notable reception was given in honor -of the grand historian-governor, William C. Sproul, fresh from his -marvelous restoration of the Colonial Court House at Chester. As he -stood there, the embodiment of mental and physical grace and strength, -the greatest Governor of a generation, receiving the long line of those -who came to pay their respects and well wishes, Albert Cook Myers, famed -historian of the Quakers, mentioned that the present Governor of the -Commonwealth was standing just beneath the portrait of John Penn, one of -the last of the Proprietaries. And what a contrast there was! Penn -looked so effete and almost feminine with his child-like blonde locks, -his pink cheeks, weak, half-closed mouth, his slender form in a red -coat, so different from the vigorous living Governor. Penn was also so -inferior to the other notable portraits which hung about him–the sturdy -Huguenot, General Henri Bouquet, the deliverer of Fort Duquesne in 1758 -and 1763; the stalwart Scot, General Arthur St. Clair, of Miami fame, -who was left to languish on a paltry pension of $180 a year at his -rough, rocky farm on Laurel Ridge; the courageous-looking Irishman, -General Edward Hand; and, above all, the bold and dashing eagle face of -General “Mad Anthony” Wayne. Such company for the last of the Penns to -keep! Though lacking the manly outlines of his fellows on canvas, who -can say that his life had one whit less interest than theirs–probably -much more so, for his spirit had felt the thrill of an undying love, -which in the end surmounted all difficulties and left his heart master -of the field. - -Though his record for statecraft can hardly be written from a favorable -light, and few of his sayings or deeds will live, he has joined an -immortal coterie led down the ages by Anthony and the beautiful Egyptian -queen, by Abelard and Heloise, Dante and Beatrice, Petrarch and Laura, -Alfieri and the Countess of Albany, and here in Pennsylvania by Hugh H. -Brackenridge and the pioneer girl, Sabina Wolfe, and Elisha Kent Kane, -and the spiritualist, Maria Fox. Love is a force that is all-compelling, -all-absorbing and never dies, and is the biggest thing in life, and the -story of John Penn and Maria Cox will be whispered about in the -backwoods cabins and wayside inns of the Pennsylvania Mountains long -after seemingly greater men and minds have passed to forgetfulness. - -But for a few lines in the writings of Charles P. Keith, H. M. Jenkins, -Nevin W. Moyer and various Penn biographers, such as Albert Cook Myers, -the verbal memories of ’Squire W. H. Garman, James Till, Mrs. H. E. -Wilvert and other old-time residents of the vicinity of “Tulliallan,” -all would be lost, and the inspiration of a story of overwhelming -affection unrecorded in the annals of those who love true lovers. - - II - _At His Bedside_ - - -When old Jacob Loy passed away at the age of eighty years, he left a pot -of gold to be divided equally among his eight children. It was a pot of -such goodly proportions that there was a nice round sum for all, and the -pity of it was after the long years of privation which had collected it, -that some of the heirs wasted it quickly on organs, fast horses, cheap -finery and stock speculations, for it was before the days of -player-pianos, victrolas and automobiles. - -Yolande, his youngest daughter, was a really attractive girl, even had -she not a share in the pot of gold, and had many suitors. Though farm -raised and inured to hardships she was naturally refined, with wonderful -dark eyes and hair, and pallid face–the perfect type of Pennsylvania -Mountain loveliness. - -Above all her admirers she liked best of all Adam Drumheller, a shrewd -young farmer of the neighborhood, and eventually married him. Three -children were born in quick succession, in the small tenant house on his -father’s farm in Chest Township, where the young couple had gone to live -immediately after their wedding. - -Shortly after the birth of the last child old Jacob Drumheller died, and -the son and his family moved into the big stone farmhouse near the banks -of the sulphurous Clearfield Creek. It was not long after this -fortuitous move that the young wife began to show signs of the favorite -Pennsylvania mountain malady–consumption. Whether it was caused by a -deep-seated cold or came about from sleeping in rooms with windows -nailed shut, no one could tell, but the beautiful young woman became -paler and more wax-like, until she realized that a speedy end was -inevitable. Many times she found comfort in her misfortune by having her -husband promise that in the event of her death he would never remarry. - -“Never, never,” he promised. “I could never find your equal again.” - -He was sincere in some respects; it would be hard to find her -counterpart, and she had made a will leaving him everything she -possessed, and he imagined that the pot of gold transformed into a bank -balance or Government bonds would be found somewhere among her effects. - -Before ill health had set in he had quizzed her many times, as openly as -he dared, on the whereabouts of her share of the pot. - -“It is all safe,” she would say. “It will be forthcoming some time when -you need it more than you do today,” and he was satisfied. - -As she grew paler and weaker Adam began to think more of Alvira Hamel, -another comely girl whom he had loved when he railroaded out of -Johnstown, at Kimmelton, and whom he planned to claim as his own should -Yolande pass away. - -[Illustration: SCENE IN SNYDER-MIDDLESWARTH PARK] - -Perhaps his thoughts dimly reflected on the dying wife’s sub-conscious -mind, for she became more insistent every day that he promise never to -remarry. - -“Think of our dear little children,” she kept saying, “sentenced to have -a stepmother; I would come back and _haunt_ you if you perpetrate such a -cruelty to me and mine.” - -Adam had little faith in a hereafter, and less in ghosts, so he readily -promised anything, vowing eternal celebacy cheerfully and profoundly. - -When Yolande did finally fade away, she died reasonably happy, and at -least died bravely. She never shed a tear, for it is against the code of -the Pennsylvania Mountain people to do so–perhaps a survival of the -Indian blood possessed by so many of them. - -Three days after the funeral Adam hied himself to Ebensburg to “settle -up the estate,” but also to look up Alvira Hamel, who was now living -there. She seemed glad to see him, and when he broached a possible union -she acted as if pleased at everything except to go on to that lonely -farm on the polluted Clearfield Creek. - -By promising to sell out when he could and move to Barnesboro or -Spangler, a light came in her dark eyes, and though he did not visit the -lawyer in charge of his late wife’s affairs, his day in town was -successful in arranging for the new alliance with his sweetheart of -other days. - -In due course of time it was discovered that the equivalent of Yolande’s -share of the pot of gold left by old Jacob Loy was not to be found. “She -may have kept it in coin and buried it in the orchard,” was some of the -very consoling advice that the lawyer gave. - -At any rate it was not located by the time that Adam and Alvira were -married, but the bridegroom was well to do and could afford to wait. -After a short trip to Pittsburg and Wheeling the newly married couple -took up housekeeping in the big brick farmstead above the creek. - -The first night that they were back from the honeymoon–it was just about -midnight and Alvira was sleeping peacefully–Adam thought that he heard -footsteps on the stairs. He could not be mistaken. Noiselessly the door -opened, and the form of Yolande glided into the room; she was in her -shroud, all white, and her face was whiter than the shroud, and her long -hair never looked blacker. - -Along the whitewashed wall by the bedside was a long row of hooks on -which hung the dead woman’s wardrobe. It had never been disturbed; -Alvira was going to cut the things up and make new garments out of them -in the Spring. Adam watched the apparition while she moved over to the -clothing, counting them, and smoothed and caressed each skirt or waist, -as if she regretted having had to abandon them for the steady raiment of -the shroud. - -Then she came over to the bed and sat on it close to Adam, eyeing him -intently and silently. Just then Alvira got awake, but apparently could -see nothing of the ghost, although the room was bright as day, bathed in -the full moon’s light. - -Yolande seemed to remain for a space of about ten minutes, then passed -through the alcove into the room where the children were sleeping and -stood by their bedside. The next night she was back again, repeating the -same performance, the next night, and the next, and still the next, each -night remaining longer, until at last she stayed until daybreak. In the -morning as the hired men were coming up the boardwalk which led to the -kitchen door, they would meet Yolande, in her shroud coming from the -house, and passing out of the back gate. On one occasion Alvira was -pumping water on the porch, but made no move as she passed, being -evidently like so many persons, spiritually blind. The hired men had -known Yolande all their lives, and were surprised to see her spooking in -daylight, but refrained from saying anything to the new wife. - -Every day for a week after that she appeared on the kitchen porch, or on -the boardwalk, in the yard, on the road, and was seen by her former -husband many times, and also her night prowling went on as of yore. The -hired men began to complain; it might make them sick if a ghost was -around too much; these spooks were supposed to exhale a poison much as -copperhead snakes do, and also draw their “life” away, and they -threatened to quit if she wasn’t “laid.” All of them had seen spooks -before, on occasion, but a daily visitation of the same ghost was more -than they cared about. - -Had it not been for the excitable hired men, Adam, whose nerves were -like iron, could have stood Yolande’s ghost indefinitely. In fact, he -thought it rather nice of her to come back and see him and the children -“for old time’s sake.” But the farm hands must be conserved at any cost, -even to the extent of laying Yolande’s unquiet spirit. - -The next night when she appeared, he made bold and spoke to her: “What -do you want, Yolande,” he said softly, so as not to wake the soundly -sleeping Alvira at his side. “Is there anything I can do for you, dear?” - -Yolande came very close beside him, and bending down whispered in his -ear: “Adam,” said she, “how can you ask me why I am here? You surely -know. Did you not, time and time again, promise never to marry again, if -I died, for the sake of our darling children? Did you not make such a -promise, and see how quickly you broke it! Where I am now I can hold no -resentments, so I forgive you for all your transgressions, but I hope -that Alvira will be good to our children. I have one request to make: -After I left you, you were keen to find what I did with my share of -daddy’s pot of gold. I had it buried in the orchard at my old home, -under the Northern Spy, but after we moved here, one time when you went -deer hunting to Centre County, I dug it up and brought it over here and -buried it in the cellar of this house. It is here now. There are just -one hundred and fifty-three twenty dollar gold pieces; that was my -share. The children and the money were on my mind, not your broken -promise and rash marriage, which you will repent, and which I tell you -again I forgive you for. I want my children to have that money, every -one of the one hundred and fifty-three twenty dollar gold pieces. I -buried it a little to the east of the spring in the cellar, about two -feet under ground, in a tin cartridge box; Dig it up tomorrow morning, -and if you find the one hundred and fifty-three coins, and give every -one to the children, I will never come again and upset your hired men. -Why I have Myron Shook about half scared to death already, but if you -don’t find every single coin I’ll have to come back until you do, or if -you hold it back from the children, you will not be able to keep a -hireling on this place, or any other place to which you move. Many live -folks can’t see ghosts; your wife is one of these; she will never worry -until the hired men quit, then she’ll up and have you make sale and move -to town. Be square and give the children the money, and I’ll not trouble -you again.” - -“Oh, Yolande,” answered Adam in gentle tones, “you are no trouble to me, -not in the least. I love to have you visit me at night, and look at the -children, but you are making the hired help terribly uneasy. That part -you must quit.” - -“That’s enough of your drivel, Adam,” spoke Yolande, in a sterner tone -of voice. “Talk less like a fool, and more like a man. Dig up that money -in the morning, count it, and give it to the children and I’ll be glad -never to see you again.” - -To be reproached by a ghost was too much for Adam, and he lapsed into -silence, while Yolande slipped out of the room, over to the bedside of -the sleeping children, where she lingered until daylight. - -Adam was soon asleep, but was up bright and early the next morning, -starting to dress just as the ghost glided out of the door. By six -o’clock he had exhumed Yolande’s share of the pot of gold which was -buried exactly as her ghostly self had described. - -It was a hard wrench to hand the money over to the children, or rather -to take it to Ebensburg and start savings accounts in their names. But -he did it without a murmur. The cashier, a horse fancier, gave him a -present of a new whip, of a special kind that he had made to order at -Pittsburg, so he came home happy and contented. - -Night was upon him, and supper over, he retired early, dozing a bit -before the “witching hour.” As the old Berks County tall clock in the -entry struck twelve, he began to watch for Yolande’s accustomed -entrance. But not a shadow appeared. The clock struck the quarter, the -half, three quarters and one o’clock. No Yolande or anything like her -came; she was true to her promise, as true as he had been false. It was -an advantage to be a ghost in some ways. They were honorable creatures. - -Adam did not know whether to feel pleased or not. His vanity had been -not a little appealed to by a dead wife visiting him nightly; now he was -sure that it wasn’t for love of him or jealousy, she had been coming -back, but to see that the children got the money that had been buried in -the cellar. And at last she had spoken rather unkindly, so the great -change called death had ended her love, and she wasn’t grieving over his -second marriage at all. However, he fell to consoling himself that she -had chided him for breaking his word and marrying again; she must have -cared for him or she would not have said those things. Then the thought -came to him that she wasn’t really peeved at anything concerning his -marriage to Alvira except that the children had gotten a stepmother. He -wondered if Alvira would continue to be kind to them. Just as he went to -sleep he had forgotten both Yolande and Alvira, chuckling over a pretty -High School girl he had seen on the street at the ’burg, and whom he had -winked at. - -[Illustration] - - III. - _The Prostrate Juniper_ - - -Weguarran was a young warrior of the Wyandots, who lived on the shores -of Lake Michigan. In the early spring of 1754 he was appointed to the -body-guard of old Mozzetuk, a leader of the tribe, on an embassy to -Bethlehem, in Pennsylvania, to prevail on the holy men there, as many -Indians termed the Moravians, to send a band of Missionaries to the -Wyandot Country, with a view of Christianizing the tribe, and acting as -advisors and emissaries between the Wyandots and allied nations with the -French and other white men, who were constantly encroaching on the -redmen’s territories. - -Weguarran the youngest and the handsomest of the escort, was very -impressionable, and across Ohio and over the Alleghenies, he made -friends with the Indian maidens of the various encampments passed en -route. - -The reception at Bethlehem was cordial, but not much hope was held out -for an immediate despatch of Missionaries as the Moravians were anxious -to avoid being drawn into the warlike aspirations of the English and -French, preferring to promote the faith in pacified regions, as very few -of them were partisans, but if they had a leaning at all, it was toward -the French. This was due to the fact that the French always understood -the Indians better than the English, were more sympathetic colonizers, -and while many French Missionaries carried forward the tenets of Rome, -there was no religious intolerance, and Missionaries of every faith -seemed to thrive under their leadership. - -While at Bethlehem and Nazareth, Weguarran was much favored by the -Indian maids of those localities, but did not wholly lose his heart -until one afternoon at the cabin of an old Christian Pequot named -Michaelmas. This old Indian, a native of Connecticut, lived in a log -cabin on a small clearing near the Lehigh River, where he cultivated a -garden of rare plants and trees, and raised tobacco. All his pastimes -were unusual; he captured wild pigeons, which he trained to carry -messages, believing that they would be more valuable in wartime than -runners. He also practiced falconry, owning several hawks of race, -goshawks, marsh hawks and duck hawks. The goshawks he used for grouse, -wood-cocks and quails; the marsh hawks for rabbits, hares and ’coons; -and the duck hawks for wild ducks and other water birds, which fairly -swarmed on the Lehigh in those days. He was a religious old man, almost -a recluse, strong in his prejudices, and was much enthused by the -Wyandot embassy, giving his waning hopes a new burst of life for an -Indian renaissance. - -He took a great fancy to the manly and handsome Weguarran, inviting him -to his cabin, and it was there that the youthful warrior met the old -man’s lovely daughter, Wulaha. She was an only child, eighteen years of -age. Her mother belonged to the Original People and was also a -Christian. - -Love progressed very rapidly between Weguarran and Wulaha, and as the -time drew near for the embassy to depart, the young girl intimated to -her lover that he must discuss the subject with old Michaelmas, and -secure his approval and consent, after the manner of white Christians. - -The old Pequot was not averse to the union, which would add another -strain of Indian blood to the family, but stated that a marriage could -only take place on certain conditions. Weguarran, in his conversations -with Michaelmas, had told him of his military affiliations with the -French, which had filled the old man’s heart with joy for the hopes of a -new order of things that it seemed to kindle. When he asked the hand of -the fair Wulaha in marriage, Michaelmas “came back” with the following -proposition: - -“Weguarran, I am getting old and feeble,” he said. “I may pass away any -time, and I could not bear the thought of my squaw being left alone, -which would be the case if you married Wulaha and took her to the -distant shores of Lake Michigan. However, there are greater things than -my death and my squaw’s loneliness, the future of the red race, now -crushed to earth by the Wunnux, as we call the white men, but some day -to be triumphant. You have told me that within this very year the French -and Indians are sure to engage the English in a mighty battle which will -decide the future history of the Continent. You can marry Wulaha right -after that battle, if you are victorious; otherwise you can do as the -Missionaries tell us the Romans did–fall on your sword. You can never -return here, as I do not want my daughter to marry and continue the race -of a beaten people. I would far rather have her die single, and have our -seed perish, for if this victory is not won, doomed is every redman on -this Continent. The only wish of the English is to encompass our -extermination. Wulaha will remain at home until after that battle, when -you can come for her and claim her as your own, and we will give her to -you with rejoicing.” - -“What you say is surely fair enough, Father Michaelmas,” replied -Weguarran, “for I would see no future for Wulaha and myself if the -English are victorious in this inevitable battle. As soon as it is -won–and it will be won, for the high resolve of every Indian warrior is -to go in to win–I will hurry back to the banks of the Lehigh, never -stopping to rest, sleep or eat, to tell you of the glad tidings, and -bear away my beloved Wulaha. I want to ask one special favor of you. I -have admired your wonderful cage of trained wild pigeons, which you say -will carry messages hundreds of miles. Lend me one of these pigeons, and -as soon as the victory is won, I will release the bird, and while I am -speeding eastward on foot, our feathered friend will fly on ahead and -end the suspense, and bring joy to yourself, your squaw and Wulaha.” - -“I will gladly let you have my best trained pigeon, or hawk, or anything -I possess, if I can learn of the victory, but in turn I will ask a favor -of you. I listened with breathless interest to your tales of the -Prostrate Junipers which grow on the shores of the great lakes, which -cover two thousand square feet, and are hundreds of years old. You -promised to bring me a scion of one of those curious trees, so that I -might plant it in my garden of rare trees and shrubs. Now, here will be -a chance to associate it with the great victory; pluck a stout but small -scion, and if the victory is won, affix it firmly to one of the pigeon’s -legs and let it go. If it comes back without the twig of Juniper I will -know that our cause has lost, and while you fall on your sword, I and my -family will jump into the Lehigh.” - -“I will gladly do as you say, Father Michaelmas,” said Weguarran, “and -will send a twig that will grow, and some day make a noble tree, and in -years to come, our people will call it Weguarran’s Victory Tree. The -fact that it is a Prostrate Tree makes it all the more appropriate, as -it will represent the English race lying prostrated, crushed by the red -race they wronged, and by our kindly and just French allies.” - -Weguarran was so inspired by the thought of the pigeon messenger, the -sprig of Prostrate Juniper, and the impending victory that it assuaged -his grief at the parting from Wulaha, sending him away determined to -give a good account of himself in all things. - -Old Michaelmas selected a handsome cock pigeon, with a dragon’s blood -red breast–his very best and most intelligent, and surest flyer, named -Wuskawhan, which he placed in a specially built, bottle shaped basket, -which had no lid, yet the top was too small for the bird to escape. In -this way it could rise up and peer out, as it was carried along, and not -bruise its wing coverts or head, as it would if it flew against the top -of a square basket with a lid. - -After a touching parting with Wulaha, her mother and father, the young -warrior went his way with his precious burden. - -The Indians, even old Mozzetuk, were rapid travellers, and in due time -they reached the country of the Prostrate Junipers on the shores of Lake -Michigan. They arrived in what seemed like an armed camp, for all the -braves had been called to arms, which plotted to drive Indians and -French to the uttermost ends of the earth. - -Weguarran was quickly mobilized, and a musket in one hand and tomahawk -in the other, while on his back he bore the sacred pigeon, he marched -toward his foes. In the excitement he had not forgotten to slip into his -pouch at his belt a sprig of the Prostrate Juniper, which would be the -emblem of the English race prostrate under the foot of French and Indian -allies. - -In due course of time the army of which the picked Wyandot warriors -formed a part, met their English foemen on Braddock’s Field, completely -routing and all but annihilating them. General Braddock himself was shot -from behind by one of his own men in the wild stampede, and the French -and Indians were completely victorious. - -Surveying the gorey scene, every wooded glade lying thick with dead -redcoats and broken accoutrements, Weguarran carefully opened the -panther skin pouch at his best, taking out the sprig of Prostrate -Juniper. Then he lifted the handsome wild pigeon from its bottle-nosed -cage of oak withes, and with a light leathern string, affixed the little -twig, on which the berries still clustered, to the bird’s leg, then -tossed the feathered messenger up into the air. - -The pigeon quickly rose above the trees, circled a few times, and then -started rapidly for the east, as fast as his broad, strong wings could -carry him. - -This done, Weguarran visited his chief, obtaining leave to proceed to -Bethlehem to claim his bride, promising to report back with her on the -banks of the Ohio as speedily as possible. The pigeon naturally had a -good start, and by the next morning was flying over the palisaded walls -of John Harris’ Trading Post on the Susquehanna. - -A love story was being enacted within those walls, in the shadow of one -of the huge sheds used in winter to store hides. Keturah Lindsay, -Harris’ niece, an attractive, curly-haired Scotch girl, was talking with -a young Missionary whom she admired very much, Reverend Charles Pyrleus, -the protege of Col. Conrad Weiser. - -Unfortunately they had to meet by stealth as his attentions were not -favored by the girl’s relatives, who considered him of inferior -antecedents. They had met in the shed this fair July morning, whether by -design or accident, no one can tell, and were enjoying one another’s -society to the utmost. - -In the midst of their mutual adoration, the dinner gong was sounded at -the trading house, and Keturah, fearful of a scolding, reluctantly broke -away. As she came out into the sunlight, she noticed a handsome wild -pigeon drop down, as if exhausted, on one of the topmost stakes of the -palisade which surrounded the trading house and sheds. - -Keturah, like many frontier girls, always carried a gun, and quickly -taking aim, fired, making the feathers fly, knocking the bird off its -perch, and it seemed to fall to the ground outside the stockade. In a -minute it rose, and started to fly off towards the east. She had -reloaded, so fired a second time, but missed. - -“How strange to see a wild pigeon travelling through here at this time -of year,” she thought, as carrying her smoking firearm, she hurried to -the mess room of the big log trading house. - -The messenger pigeon had been grievously hurt, but was determined to go -“home.” On and on it went, sometimes “dipping” like a swallow, from loss -of blood, but by sheer will power keeping on the wing. As it neared the -foothills of the South Mountains, near the village of Hockersville, with -old Derry Church down in the vale, it faltered, spun about like a pin -wheel, and fell with a thud. Gulping and blinking a few times, it spread -out its wide pinions and lay on its breastbone–stone dead–the twig of -Prostrate Juniper still affixed to one of its carmine feet. There it -lay, brave in death, until the storms and winds shivered it, and it -rotted into the ground. - -Weguarran was a rapid traveler, and in forced marches came to the shady -banks of the Lehigh in three or four days. He was so excited that he -swam the stream. He brought the first news of the great victory in the -west to the surprised Michaelmas and his friends. But where was the -prized wild pigeon, Wuskawhan? It could not have gone astray, for such a -bird’s instinct never erred. “Caught by a hawk or shot down by some -greedy fool of a Wunnux” was the way in which old Michaelmas explained -its non-appearance. - -The news spread to the white settlements and to the towns, and there was -consternation among all sympathizers with the Crown–with all except a -few Moravians who were mum for policy’s sake, and the Indians, whose -stoical natures alone kept them from disclosing the elation that was in -their hearts. - -[Illustration: A MAMMOTH SHORT-LEAF PINE] - -“The English never wanted the Indians civilized,” said Michaelmas, -boldly. “They drove the Moravians out of Schadikoke and from the -Housatonic when they saw the progress they made with our people; were it -not for the Quakers in Pennsylvania, they would have had no place to -harbor; those of us who felt the need of these kind friends followed -them in their exile, but we can never forgive that we had to leave the -Connecticut country of our birth under such circumstances. I am glad -that our enemies were beaten and annihilated.” - -Weguarran was baptized, and he and the lovely Wulaha were married by one -of the Moravian preachers, and started for the great lake country, which -was to be their permanent home. - -Michaelmas and his squaw were too old to make the long journey, but they -were happy in their garden of rare trees and plants, the wild pigeons, -the hawks of race, and the dreams of an Indian _renaissance_. They lived -many years afterwards, and are buried with the other Christian Indians -at Bethlehem. - -Out in the foothills of the South Mountains, overlooking old Derry -Church, in the fertile Lebanon Valley among the pines and oaks and tulip -trees, a strange seedling appeared in the spring of 1756, different from -anything that the mountain had known since prehistoric times. Instead of -growing upward and onward as most brave trees do, it spread out wider -and greater and vaster, until, not like the symbol of the Anglo-Saxon -prone beneath the heel of French and Indian, it was the symbol of the -all diffusing power of the English speaking race, which has grafted its -ideals and hopes and practical purposes over the entire American -Continent. Nourished by the life’s blood of the travelling pigeon that -bore it there, it had a flying start in the battle of existence, and -today, after all these years, bids fair to last many years longer, to be -the arboral marvel and wonder of the Keystone State. - -Well may the Boy Scouts of Elizabethtown feel proud to be the honorary -custodians of this unique tree with its spread of 2,000 feet, for apart -from its curious appearance and charm, it has within it memories of -history and romance, of white men and red, that make it a veritable -treasure trove for the historian and the folk-lorist, and all those who -love the great outdoors in this wonderful Pennsylvania of ours! - -[Illustration] - - IV. - _Out of the Ashes_ - - -Last Autumn we were crossing Rea’s Hill one afternoon of alternate -sunshine and shadow, and as we neared the summit, glanced through -several openings in the trees at the wide expanse of Fulton County -valleys and coves behind us, on to the interminable range upon range of -dark mountains northward. In the valleys here and there were dotted -square stone houses, built of reddish sandstone, with high roofs and -chimneys, giving a foreign or Scottish air to the scene. Some of these -isolated structures were deserted, with windows gaping and roofs gone, -pictures of desolation and bygone days. - -Just as the crest of the mountain was gained, we came upon a stone house -in process of demolition, in fact all had been torn away, and the -sandstone blocks piled neatly by the highway, all but the huge stone -chimney and a small part of one of the foundation walls. Work of the -shorers had temporarily ceased for it was a Saturday afternoon. Affixed -to the chimney was a wooden mantel, painted black, of plain, but antique -design, exposed, and already stained by the elements, and evidently to -be abandoned by those in charge of the demolition. - -The house stood on the top of a steep declivity, giving a marvelous view -on four sides, almost strategic enough to have been a miniature -fortress! - -It was the first time in a dozen years that we had passed the site; in -1907 the house was standing and tenanted, and pointed out as having been -a temporary resting place of General John Forbes on his eastern march, -after the successful conquest of Fort Duquesne, in 1758. Now all is -changed, historic memories had not kept the old house inviolate; it was -to be ruthlessly destroyed, perhaps, like the McClure Log College near -Harrisburg, to furnish the foundations for a piggery, or some other -ignoble purpose. - -As we passed, a pang of sorrow overcame us at the lowly state to which -house and fireplace had fallen, and we fell to recounting some of the -incidents of the historic highway, in military and civil history, the -most noteworthy road in the Commonwealth. The further, on we traveled, -the more we regretted not stopping and trying to salvage the old wooden -mantel, but one of our good friends suggested that if we did not are to -return for it, we should mention the matter to the excellent and -efficient Leslie Seylar at McConnellsburg, who knew everyone and -everything, and could doubtless obtain the historic relic and have it -shipped to our amateur “curio shop.” - -The genial Seylar, famed for his temperamental and physical resemblance -to the lamented “Great Heart,” was found at his eyrie and amusement -centre on top of Cove Mountain, and he gladly consented to securing the -abandoned mantel. As a result it is now in safe hands, a priceless -memento of the golden age of Pennsylvania History. - -But now for the story or the legend of the mantel, alluded to briefly -last year in the chapter called the “Star of the Glen,” in this writer’s -“South Mountain Sketches.” The story, as an old occupant of the house -told it, and he survived on until early in the Nineteenth Century was, -that General Forbes, on this victorious eastern march, was seized many -times with fainting fits. On every occasion his officers and orderlies -believed that the end had come, so closely did he simulate death. But he -had always been delicate, at least from his first appearance in -Pennsylvania, though when campaigning with the gallant Marshal Ligonier -in France, Flanders and on the Rhine, participating in the battles of -Dettingen, Fontenoy and Lauffeld, no such symptoms were noted. Although -less than fifty years of age when he started towards the west, he was -regarded, from his illnesses, as an aged person, Sherman Day in his -inimitable “Historical Collections” states that there was “much -dissatisfaction in the choice of a leader of the expedition against Fort -Duquesne, as General Forbes, the commander, was a decrepit old man.” - -What caused his ill health history has not uncovered at this late date. -It has been said that he was an epileptic, like Alexander and other -great generals, or a sufferer from heart trouble or general debility. -His military genius outweighed his physical frailties, so that he rose -superior to him, but it must not be forgotten that he was aided by two -brilliant officers, Colonel George Washington and Colonel Henry Bouquet. - -His immediate entourage was a remarkable one, even for a soldier of many -wars. Like a true Scotsman, he carried his own piper with him, Donald -MacKelvie, said to be a descendant of the mighty MacCrimmons; and his -bodyguard was also headed by a Highlander, Andrew MacCochran, who had -been a deer stalker on one of the estates owned by the General’s father. - -Forbes himself, being a younger son, was not a man of property, and -Pittencrief House, his birth-place, was already occupied by an older -brother, from whom, so Dr. Burd S. Patterson tells us, all who claim -relationship to him are descended. - -The General was carried in a hammock, with frequent stops, from Harris’ -Ferry to Fort Duquesne, and back again, borne by four stalwart -Highlanders, in their picturesque native costumes, wearing the tartan of -the Forbes clan. The deerstalker, MacCochran, was the major domo, and -even above the chief of staff and Brigade Surgeon, gave the orders to -halt when the General’s lean weazened face indicated an over-plussage of -fatigue. - -It was late in the afternoon as the returning army had neared the summit -of Rea’s Hill; the pipers were playing gaily Blaz Sron, to cheer foot -soldiers and wagoners up the steep, rocky, uneven grade, with the -General in the van. The ascent was a hard one, and the ailing -commander-in-chief was shaken about considerably, so much so that -MacCochran was glad to note the little stone house, where he might give -him his much needed rest. - -Old Andrew McCreath and his wife, a North of Ireland couple, the former -a noted hunter, occupied the house; their son was serving in the -Pennsylvania Regiment, which formed a part of General Forbes’ -expeditionary forces. The old folks were by the roadside, having heard -the bagpipes at a great distance, eager to see the visitors, and catch a -glimpse of their hero son. They were surprised and pleased when -MacCochran signalled the halt in front of their door, which meant that -the entire procession would bivouac for the night in the immediate -vicinity. There were several good springs of mountain water, so all -could await the General’s pleasure. - -Permission was asked to make the house “general headquarters” for the -night, which, of course, was quickly given, as the old couple were -honored to have such a distinguished visitor. There was a great couch, -or what we would today call a “Davenport” in front of the fire, and -there the General was laid, the room dark, save for the ruddy glow of -the roaring fire, which illuminated every nook and corner, and made it -at once as cheerful as it was warm and comfortable. - -The General’s eyes were wide open, and he gazed about the room, while -his faithful domestics watched him to anticipate every wish. When he was -ill he excluded his Staff, but kept his servants with him, and they, -with McCreath and his wife, stood in the corners of the room, back of -the couch, waiting for his commands. - -The piper asked if he could liven his master with a “wee tune or two,” -but the General shook his head; his sandy locks had become untied, and -flapped about his bony face; he made a motion with his hand that -indicated that he wanted to be alone, to try and get some sleep. -McCreath and his wife, and their stalwart son, the other bearers of the -hammock and litters, and the surgeon of the expedition, Major McLanahan, -who had slipped into the room, withdrew, leaving the piper and -MacCochran standing in the corner back of the couch, to aid the General -should he become violently ill in his sleep. - -The General dozed, and the bodyguard became very tired, for they had had -a hard march, and sank down on the floor, with their backs to the wall. -All was still, save for the tramp, tramp of the sentry outside the -window, or the crackle of some giant bonfire in the general campground, -or the barking of some camp follower’s dog. The fire had died down a -little, but threw great fitful shadows, like a pall, over the sleeping -General, and caused an exaggerated shadow of his bold profile to appear -on the wall. - -All at once, without the slightest warning, he jumped to his feet, with -the elasticity of a youth, and arms outstretched, seemed to rush towards -the fire. He might have tripped over the pile of cord wood, and fallen -in face foremost, had not the ever watchful piper and MacCochran, -springing forward, caught him simultaneously in their strong arms. They -did not find him excited, or his mind wandering, like a man suddenly -aroused from slumbers. On the contrary, he was strangely calm. He -whispered in MacCochran’s ear: - -“Andy, I have seen my lady of Dunkerck. She came out of the ashes -towards me. I rushed forward to greet her, and she went back into the -hearth and was gone.” - -The General would say nothing further, but allowed himself to be laid -out on the couch once more, and be covered with buffalo robes, and while -he lay quiet, he slept no more that night, but every minute or so kept -looking into the fire. At daybreak, at the sounding of Surachan on the -pipes, he was able to start, and the balance of the march executed -without incident. - -He reached Philadelphia in safety, but within a short time after -arriving there he passed away unexpectedly, and was buried in historic -Old Christ Church, where a tablet with the following inscription was -erected in the Chancel by the Pennsylvania Chapter of the Society of -Colonial Wars: “To the Memory of Brigadier-General John Forbes, Colonel -of the 17th Regiment of Foot, born at Pittencrief, Fifeshire, 1710, died -in Philadelphia, March 11, 1759.” - -MacCochran was released from the army, and being enamored of the wild -mountain country in the interior of Pennsylvania, returned to the -forests. Later, though nearly fifty years old, he enlisted and served -through the Revolutionary War in Captain Parr’s Riflemen. After peace -was declared he bought the little stone house on Rea’s Hill from young -McCreath, who had served with him in the Rifle Brigade, and lived there -alone until he died about 1803. He said that he liked the place for its -memories of General Forbes, and he was always fond of telling to his -mountaineer friends when they dropped in of an evening for a smoke and a -toddy, of his hero’s exploits in peace and war, and more than once -recounted the tale of the wraith which appeared to the General at the -fireplace, during his eastward journey from Fort Duquesne. - -General Forbes, he said, as noted previously, was a younger son, and had -entered the army early in life. He had been too busy campaigning to -marry, but not always too busy to fall in love. Yet he was a -serious-minded man, and his romances were always of the better sort, and -would have ended happily on one or more occasions but for the exigencies -of his strenuous campaigns, which moved him from place to place. - -Of all his love affairs, the one that hit him the hardest, and lasted -the longest, occurred after the victory of Lauffeld, won by Marshal -Ligonier, when, as Lieutenant-Colonel, he was quartered with his -regiment at Dunkerck, preparatory to embarking for England. Colonel -Forbes’ billet was with one Armand Violet, a rich shipowner, who resided -in a mediaeval chateau, which his wealth had enabled him to purchase -from some broken-down old family, on the outskirts of the town. It was -built on a bare, chalky cliff, overlooking the sea, where the waves beat -over the rocks, and sent the spray against the walls on stormy nights, -and the wind, banshee-like, moaned incessantly among the parapets. - -Violet was away a good deal, and his wife was an invalid, and peculiar, -but their one daughter, Amethyst Violet, was a ray of sunshine enough to -illuminate and radiate the gloomiest fortress-like chateau. She was -under eighteen, about the middle height, slimly and trimly built, with -chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, and a fair complexion; her hair was worn -in puffs over her ears and brushed back from her brows, just as the -girls are again wearing it today; she was vivacious and intelligent, and -detected in the Colonel, despite his thirty-seven years, a man of -superior personality and charm. - -In the long wait, due to conflicting orders, and the non-arrival of the -transport, Forbes and Amethyst became very well acquainted, in fact the -Colonel was very much in love, but would not dream of mentioning his -passion, as he deemed it folly for a man of his years and experience to -espouse a mere child. The girl was equally smitten, but more impulsive, -and less self-contained. - -Every evening the pair were together in the great hall, sitting before -the fire in the old hearth, their glances, which often met, indicating -their feelings, but the Colonel confined his talk to descriptions of -military life, Scotland, its glens and locks and wild game, old legends -and ballads which he loved to recite. He was particularly fond of -repeating the old ballad of Barbara Livingston. - -One night while the wind was howling, and the spray was lashing against -the castle walls, and the rain dashed and hissed against the panes, the -time to retire had come, and Amethyst, instead of tripping away, sprang -right into Forbes’ arms, and lay her fluffy head against his bespangled -breast. - -“You are the coldest man in the world” she sobbed, looking up with -tear-dimmed blue eyes. “What have you meant all these nights, we two -alone for hours and hours, your eyes on only the sparks as they swept -upwards through the ‘louvre,’ and your thoughts only on battles and -mountain scenery. I love you more than all the world, and yet you could -not see it, or did not care. I can restrain my feelings no longer; tell -me the truth, for I cannot bear the suspense and live.” - -Forbes revealed his love by holding her very tight, and covering her -wet, hot eyelids with kisses. “Oh, foolish, darling Amethyst,” he said, -“I love you just as much as you care for me. I have from the first -moment I saw you, and hoped that the transport would never come, but I -am twice your age, and battered by many hard campaigns, and while I -think I could make you happy now, ten years hence I would be an old man, -and you would despise me.” - -Amethyst looked up into his sad, steady eyes, saying, “I don’t care what -happens ten years from now; we might both be dead. I love you, and I -want you. I will give you a week to decide; if you do not, I will jump -off the highest parapet into the sea, and you can have yourself all to -yourself, and prosper if you will with your stern Covenanter’s -principles.” - -The Colonel, though moved, was too prudent a Scot to capitulate. He took -the case under advisement, and every night for a week, though chivalrous -and charming, neglected to set the beautiful girl’s mind at rest. Yet -when he retired to his room, he paced the floor all night, for he knew -that the exquisite girl could revive his youth. - -The fatal night arrived. Perhaps the result might have been different if -Amethyst had reminded her lover of her threat. She was too proud to do -so, and the Colonel, thinking that she had forgotten her rash words–to -some extent at least–was mum, and they parted gaily, Amethyst darting -out of the hall humming the old love song of Barbara Livingston as light -on foot, and apparently as light-hearted as any carefree child. - -She was never seen again–at least not until Forbes saw her come out of -the embers at the fireplace on Rea’s Hill, more than thirteen years -later. - -When the word came that her room in one of the turrets was empty, a -general search was made, revealing the trap-door to the parapet open. In -her haste she had omitted dropping it. From that Forbes knew that the -worst had happened. When MacCochran told it to him, standing pale and -frigid by the ancient hearth, he tried to stroke his small military -mustache, to show his sang-froid, but fell in a swoon on the stone -floor, lying unconscious for a week. - -That was the beginning of the fainting fits that plagued him for the -rest of his life, and the commencement of his distaste of life, which -caused him to ask for active service in America, in a new and wild -environment, far from scenes similar to the terrible tragedy of his love -and pride. And yet, out of the fire, in distant Pennsylvania, had -appeared the long lost Amethyst Violet, perhaps as a “warning” of his -fast approaching end, to open the portals to that better world where -they would be together, and all things be as they should. - -MacCochran, philosophic and superstitious Scot that he was, had many -reasons for lingering in the little stone house. Often he said, when he -sat smoking late at night, the shadows from the dying fire would cast -dark shapes, much like General Forbes’ bold features, on the walls, and -he felt the magnetic spell of his old Master’s presence. Perhaps out of -the ashes would emerge Amethyst Violet, or her spirit self, and the -lovers could be re-united before his eyes in a shadowland. - -But nothing ever happened so fortuitous, and the engraved likenesses of -“Bonnie Prince Charlie” and Madame d’Albany, unhappy lovers also, which -hung on either side of his Revolutionary rifle, above the mantel, looked -down on him as if in sympathy, for his fidelity which had survived the -grave. The long looked for visitations never came; perhaps among the -vaults and cornices and lofts of Old Christ Church, where the General is -resting, the reunion of the lovers has taken place, but wherever it has, -the place is known only to the spirits of Forbes and the fair Amethyst -Violet; there are no witnesses. - -And now the present owner of “General Forbes’ Fireplace,” as he calls -it, is waiting to set it up in some study or hunting lodge, beneath the -skull and antlers of the extinct Irish elk, from Ballybetag Bog, where -amid forest surroundings, in the dead of night, he can keep vigil like -MacCochran, after reading “Volumes of Quaint and Forgotten Lore,” and -maybe be rewarded by a sight of the true lovers from out of the ashes. - -[Illustration] - - V - _Wayside Destiny_ - -Like many natives of the Pennsylvania Mountains, Ammon Tatnall was a -believer in dreams and ghosts. Even in his less prosperous days, when -life was considerable of a struggle, he had time to ponder over the -limitless possibilities of the unseen world. Probably his faith in the -so-called supernatural was founded on a dream he had while clerking in a -hotel at Port Allegheny, during the active days of the lumber business -in that part of the Black Forest. - -It seemed that his mother was lying at the point of death, and wanted -him to come to her, but as she did not know his whereabouts, was -suffering much mental anguish. Just in the midst of the dream the alarm -clock went off, but he awoke and got up with the impression that his -vision had been real. In the office he informed the landlord of his -dream. Like a true mountain man, the proprietor merely asked him to come -back as soon as he could, such occurrences being not unusual in his -range of experience. - -[Illustration: AMONG THE VIRGIN HEMLOCKS, BLACK FOREST. (_Photograph by_ -W. T. Clarke.)] - -At home, in the Wyoming Valley, he found conditions exactly as -reproduced in the dream. His sudden coming proved the turning point in -his mother’s illness; she rallied and got well. During her -convalescence, for Tatnall remained longer than he had expected, she -told him of a story which her mother had told her of the straight -dreaming of some of their ancestors, pioneers of the North Branch. - -The woman in question, who lived many years before, dreamed one night -that her daughter who lived in Connecticut, and who had married just as -they left for Wyoming, appeared to her with a baby in her arms. She said -she herself was dead and she desired the baby to be given to the -grandmother. As a sign of the reality of the vision, she placed her hand -on the wrist of the grandmother, leaving a mark on it that could never -be effaced. - -The grandmother took the long journey to Connecticut and found that -everything had happened as told in the dream. The child grew up, and -became the wife of a well-known Methodist preacher, and was famed -throughout Northern Pennsylvania for her good deeds. - -Tatnall gradually advanced in life, and became agent or traveling -salesman for several wholesale lumber concerns. He had gotten his start -by being polite to the manager of one of the companies who came up from -Pittsburg every week and stopped at the hotel. He made a success as a -salesman, and it was a matter of quiet satisfaction to him that in ten -years he had sold 160,000,000 feet of lumber. But he had been too busy -to marry, too busy to have a home; was a driving, pushing machine in the -interests of his employers. Sometimes on the trains he met with -intelligent people, but generally his associates were like himself, -human dynamos, but without his interest in the supernatural. - -There was one railway journey which he took frequently, and on fast -trains. His westbound trips carried him through the most mountainous -part of the country in the late afternoon, but there was generally light -enough to show the various aspects of the wild, rugged landscape. There -was a little abandoned graveyard, all overgrown, with an uneven stone -wall around it, near where the tracks crossed the river bridge. Standing -among the lop-sided and battered tombstones, the tips of some of the -older ones of brownstone being barely visible, looking as if they were -sinking into the earth, he would always see the figure of a young woman -attired completely in grey. The train was always traveling so fast that -he counted a different number of stones every time he went by–there were -probably a “Baker’s Dozen.” - -For a long time he thought that she must be some particularly devoted -mourner, a recently bereaved widow, but it did seem a strange -coincidence that she should be there on the same days and hour that he -passed by in the fast train. Once he called his seat-mate’s attention to -the figure, but the companion could see nothing, and laughingly said: -“Why, you must be seeing a ghost.” - -The word _ghost_ sent a thrill through Tatnall, and after that he said -no more to anyone, but conceded to himself that the girl in grey was a -wraith of some kind. Though the train did not pass close to the -graveyard, and was always moving rapidly, he fancied that he could -discern the ghost’s type of feature, or imagined he did; at any rate he -had an exact mental picture of what he thought she looked like, and -would pick her out in a crowd if he ever saw her in hailing distance. - -This had kept up for five years, and he began to feel that it was -getting on his nerves; he must either abandon that particular train or -go to the graveyard and investigate. He chose the latter course, and one -afternoon arrived at the nearest station, via a local train. The -graveyard was on the opposite side of the river, and there seemed to be -very little hurry on the part of the boatman, who lived on the far -shore, to carry him across. It was late in the fall, after Thanksgiving, -and the trees were bare of leaves, and shook and rattled their bare -branches in the gusts of wind that came out of the east. - -He sat down on an old rotting shell of a dugout by the bank, watching -the cold, grey current, for the river was high after many days of fall -rains. It was a dreary, but imposing scene, the wide, swollen river, the -wooded banks and hills beyond, and back of him, high rocky mountains, -partly covered with scrubby growth and dead pines. - -Finally, in response to frequent calling, he could see the boat -launched; it looked like a black speck at first, and gradually drew -nearer to him and beached. The boatman was a tiny man, with a long -drooping mustache and goatee, wearing a Grand Army button; he was -pleasant, but inquisitive, though he “allowed” Tatnall could have no -other business than to be a “drummer” bound for the crossroads store on -the opposite bank. - -Tatnall had remembered a small, dingy store in a hamlet, about half mile -from the little cemetery; he had intended going there as he wanted -information concerning the families who were buried there. Perhaps he -could learn all he wanted to know from the riverman, and save the walk -down the track to the store, but for some reason held his tongue. - -The boatman’s final remark was that it was strange for anyone to be -willing to pay a dollar to be ferried across the river, when most people -walked the railroad bridge. It was trespassing on railroad property, and -dangerous to do it, but it was worth the risk, many travelers thought. - -Arriving safely across the roily current, Tatnall paid and thanked the -boatman, and started in the direction of the little country store. In -front of the store was a row of mature Ailanthus trees, which seemed -like sturdy guards over the old stone structure, which had once been a -tavern stand. The porch was filled with packing cases and barrels. - -As Tatnall opened the door, he could see a number of habitues seated -about on crates and barrels. One of them, a white bearded Civil War -Veteran, rose up, leaning heavily on his cane, and bid the stranger -welcome. Almost before he had a chance to engage in conversation with -the regulars, he glanced behind the counter, where he beheld a young -woman, who had just emerged from an inner apartment behind the store -room. - -In the dim half-light, the dark aquiline face and meagre figure seemed -strangely familiar. She was more Oriental than Indian in type, with that -curly hair and wonderful nose, those thin lips, and complexion, the deep -pink tone of a wild pigeon’s breast. Where had they met before? For a -moment his mind refused to correlate, then like a flash, he realized -that she was the counterpart of the girl in grey who haunted the little -disused cemetery so regularly. And the way she looked at him was as if -they had seen one another before; on her face was a look of mild -surprise. - -Addressing some pleasantries to her, they were soon engaged in -conversation, as if they had known each other for years. It was getting -late, time to light lamps and fires at home, so the long-winded -dissertations of the habitues were left off, to be continued after -supper. One by one they filed out of the store; if they had any opinion -of the stranger conversing with Elma Hacker, the store-keeper’s niece, -it was that he was probably some traveling man, “talking up” his line of -goods. - -When the last one had gone, and the acquaintance had progressed far -enough, Tatnall, leaning over the counter, confided bravely the purpose -of his visit to the remote neighborhood. For five years he had been -seeing a figure in grey, in the late afternoons, while passing by the -little graveyard in the western express. No one else could see it, yet -he was certain that his senses were not deceiving him. Did she know -anything of this, and could she help him fathom the mystery? - -The dark girl dropped her eyes and was silent for a moment. She was -hesitating as to whether to disclaim all knowledge, or to be frank and -divulge a story which concerned her soul. - -“Yes, I do know all about it, how very funny! I, too, have had the power -of seeing that figure in grey, though very few others have ever been -able to, and many’s the time I’ve been called crazy when I mentioned it. -‘The girl in grey,’ as you call her, strangely enough was an ancestress -of mine, or rather belonged to my father’s family, and while I have the -same name, Elma Hacker, I don’t know whether I was named for her or not, -as my parents died when I was a little girl. - -“It used to make me feel terrible when I was a little girl and told -about seeing the figure. I hated to be regarded as untruthful or -‘dullness,’ but at last my uncle, hearing of it, came to the rescue and -told me not to mind what anyone said, that, from the description, he was -sure I had seen the ghost. He had never had the power to see her, but -his father, my grandfather had, and other members of the family. - -“It was a sad and curious story. It all happened in the days of the very -first white settlers in these mountains, when my ancestors kept the -first stopping place for travellers, a Stone fortress-like house, in -Black Wolf Gap; the ruins of the foundations are still visible, and -folks call it ‘The Indian Fort.’ The Hackers were friendly with the -Indians, who often came for square meals, and other favors from the -genial pioneer landlord and his wife. The Elma Hacker of those days had -a sweetheart who lived alone on the other side of the Gap; his name was -Ammon Quicksall, and from all accounts, he was a fine, manly fellow, a -great hunter and fighter. - -“He would often drop in on his beloved on his way home from his hunting -trips, at all hours of the day. One one occasion four Indians appeared -at the tavern, intimating that they were hungry, as Indians generally -were. Elma carried a pewter dish containing all the viands the house -afforded to each, which they sat eating on a long bench outside the -door. - -“One of the Indians was a peculiar, half-witted young wretch who went by -the name of Chansops. He came to the public house quite often, being -suspected of having a fondness for Elma and for hard cider. She always -treated him pleasantly, but kept him at a distance, and never felt fear -of any kind in his presence. No doubt his feelings were of a volcanic -order, and under his stoical exterior burned a consuming passion. He was -munching his lunch, apparently most interested in his food, when Ammon -Quicksall and his hunting dogs hove in sight. - -“Their barking and yelping were a signal to Elma, who rushed out of the -house to greet her lover, perhaps showing her feelings a trifle too -much; though she had no reason to imagine she should restrain herself in -the presence of the Indians. All the while Chansops was eyeing her with -gathering rage and fury. When Elma took her lover’s arm–she must have -been a very impulsive girl–and rested her head against his shoulder, it -was too much for the irate Indian. - -“He jumped up, firing his pewter dish into the creek which flowed near -the house, and danced up and down in sheer fury. His companions tried -hard to calm him, as they wanted to keep on good terms with the -innkeeper’s family, but he was beyond all control. Quicksall and Elma -were walking on the path which led along the creek; their backs were -turned, and they little dreamed of the drama being enacted behind them. -The other Indians, realizing that Chansops meant trouble, lay hold of -him, but he wrenched himself free with a superhuman strength, -threatening to kill anyone who laid hands on him again. - -“Old Adam Hacker, Elma’s father, finally heard the commotion and came -out, and asked in Dutch what the trouble was all about. One of the -Indians, the oldest and most sensible, replied that it was only Chansops -having a jealous fit because he saw Elma walking off with Quicksall. -While these words were being said, Chansops was edging further away, and -looking around furtively, saw that he had a chance to get away, and -sprang after the retreating couple. Bounding like a deer, he was a few -paces behind Quicksall in a twinkling of an eye. He had a heavy old -flint-lock pistol with him, which he drew and fired point blank into the -young lover’s back at two or three paces. With a groan, Quicksall sank -down on the ground, dying before Elma could comfort him. - -“Before Adam Hacker or the friendly Indians could reach the scene of the -horrid tragedy, Chansops had escaped into the forests, followed by -Quicksall’s hounds yelping at his heels. He was seen no more. The dogs, -tired and dejected, re-appeared the next day; evidently they had been -outraced by the fleet Indian runner. - -“It was a blow from which the bereaved girl could not react. She was -brave enough at the time, but she was never the same again. She -gradually pined away, until she was about my age, she died, and was -buried not in the little graveyard, but in her father’s yard. That was -done because it was feared that the crazy Chansops might return and dig -up her body, and carry it away to his lodge in the heart of the forest. -Quicksall was buried in the pioneer cemetery, and that is the place -where Elma Hacker of those days evidently frequents, trying to be near -her sweetheart’s last resting place, and to reason out the tragedy of -her unfulfilled existence. - -“It is a very strange story, but odder still, to me, that you, a -stranger, should have seen the apparition so frequently, when others do -not, and been interested enough to have come here to unravel the -mystery.” - -“It is a strange story,” said Tatnall, after a pause. He was figuring -out just what he could say, and not say too much. “The strangest part is -that the figure I have been seeing is the image of yourself, bears the -same name, and my name, Ammon Tatnall, has a somewhat similar sound, in -fact is cousin-german to ‘Ammon Quicksall.’” - -In the gloom Elma Hacker hung her pretty head still further. She was -glad that there was no light as she did not want Tatnall to see the hot -purple flush which she felt was suffusing her dark cheeks. - -“The minute I came into the store,” Tatnall continued, “you looked -familiar; it did not take me a minute to identify you as the grey lady.” - -“And you,” broke in Elma, “appear just as I always supposed Ammon -Quicksall looked.” - -How much more intimate the talk would have become, there is no telling, -but just then the door was swung open, and in came old Mrs. Becker, a -neighbor woman, to buy some bread. - -“You must be getting moonstruck, Elma,” she said, “to be here and not -light the lamps. Why, it is as dark as Egypt in this room, and you were -always so prompt to light them.” - -Elma bestirred herself to find the matches, and soon the swinging lamps -were lit, and the store aglow. - -Again the door was thrown open, and Elma’s uncle came in. He was Adam -Hacker, namesake of the old-time landlord, and proprietor of the store. -Mrs. Becker got her bread and departed, and Elma introduced Tatnall to -the storekeeper. Soon she explained to him the stranger’s business, to -which the uncle listened sympathetically. At the conclusion he said: - -“It is really curious, after all these years, to have an Adam Hacker, an -Elma Hacker and an Ammon Tatnall–almost Quicksall–here together; if -Chansops was here it would be as if the past had risen again.” - -“Let us hope there’ll be no Chansops this time,” said Tatnall. “Let us -feel that everything that was unfulfilled and went wrong in those old -days is to be righted now.” - -It was a bold statement, but somehow it went unchallenged. - -“I believe in destiny, the destiny of wayside cemeteries, of chance and -opportunity,” he resumed. “It can be the only road to true happiness -after all.” - -“How happy we’d all be,” said Elma demurely, “if through all this we -could only lay the ghost of my poor ancestress, the grey lady.” - -“Nothing that is started is ever left unfinished,” answered Tatnall. -“And we of this generation become unconscious actors in the final scenes -of a drama that began a couple of centuries ago. In that way the cycle -of existence is carried out harmoniously, else this world could not go -on if it was merely a jumble of odds and ends, and starts without -finishes; as it is, everything that is good, that is worthwhile, -sometimes comes to a rounded out and completed fulfillment.” - -The moon, which had come out clear, was three parts full, and shed a -glowing radiance over the rugged landscape. After supper Ammon and Elma -strolled out along the white, moon-bathed road. Coming to a cornfield -the girl pointed to a great white oak with a plume-like crest which -stood on a knoll, facing the valley, the river, and the hills beyond; -they climbed the high rail fence, and slipping along quietly, seated -themselves beneath the giant tree. Of the many chapters of human life -and destiny enacted beneath the oak’s spreading branches, none was -stranger than this one. There until the flaming orb had commenced to -wane in the west, they sat, perfectly content. “Oh, how I like to rest -on the earth,” said she. “How I love to be here, and look at your -wonderful face,” he whispered, as he stroked the perfect lines of her -nose, lips, chin and throat. - -[Illustration] - - VI - _The Holly Tree_ - - -It was while on a mountain climbing trip in the French Alps, when -stormstayed at a small inn at Grenoble, that a chance acquaintance -showed The Viscount Adare a copy of “The Travels of Thomas Ashe,” a book -which had recently appeared in London and created a sensation in the -tourist world. The Viscount had already perused “Travels Beyond the -Alleghenies,” by the younger Michaux, but the volume by Ashe, so full of -human interest, more than sharpened his old desire to travel in the -United States, now that a stable peace between the young republic and -the Mother Country was a matter of some years standing. - -The mountains, as described by both Michaux and Ashe, seemed stupendous -and inspiring, wild game and mighty forests were everywhere, and a -glimpse might be caught of the vanishing redmen, without journeying as -far west as the Mississippi River. - -Thomas Ashe excelled in descriptions of the life along the mountain -highways, though nothing could be more vivid than Michaux’s pen picture -of his feast on venison cooked on the coals on the hearth at Statler’s -stone tavern on the Allegheny summits, near Buckstown. This ancient -hostelry is, by the way, still standing, though misnamed “The Shot -Factory,” by modern chroniclers, much to the disgust of the accurate -historian of Somerset County, George W. Grove. - -All during his trip among the Alps of Savoy, and Dauphiny, The Viscount -Adare was planning the excursion to Pennsylvania. His love of wild -scenery was one compelling reason, but perhaps another was Ashe’s -description of his meeting and brief romance with the beautiful Eleanor -Ancketell, daughter of the innkeeper on the Broad Mountain, above Upper -Strasburg, Franklin County. - -It was well along in August, the twenty-first to be exact, when Ashe’s -book was first shown to him, therefore it seemed impracticable to make -the journey that year, but the time would soon roll around, and be an -ideal outing for the ensuing summer. From the time of his return to -London, until almost the date set for the departure, The Viscount Adare -busied himself reading every book of American travel and adventure that -he could lay his hands on, besides accumulating a vast outfit to take -along, although the trip was to be on foot, and without even a guide. - -Needless to say, with such an interesting objective, the year passed -very rapidly, not that The Viscount had no other interests, for he had -many, being a keen sportsman and scientist, as well as a lover of books, -paintings and the drama. - -It was on the twenty-third of August, a little over a year after his -first acquaintance with the writings of Ashe, that The Viscount embarked -for Philadelphia, on the fast sailing ship “Ocean Queen.” Very few -Englishmen went to America for pleasure in those days as the sting of -the Revolution was still a thorn in their sides. Many Britishers did go, -but they were mostly of the commoner sort, immigrants, not tourists. - -The Viscount Adare, even before sailing, had his itinerary pretty well -mapped out. He would tarry a week in Philadelphia to get rid of his “sea -legs,” then proceed by carriage to Louisbourg, then beginning to be -called Harrisburg, and go from there to Carlisle, Shippensburg, and -Upper Strasburg, at which last named place he would abandon his -conveyance, and with pack on back, in true Alpine fashion, start -overland, traversing the same general direction of Michaux and Ashe -towards Pittsburg. At Pittsburg he planned to board a flat boat and -descend the Ohio, thence into the Mississippi, proceeding to New -Orleans, at which city he could set sail for England. - -It was an ambitious trip for a solitary traveler, but as he was known by -his Alpinist friends as “The Guideless Wonder,” some indication may be -divined of his resourcefulness. - -The journey across the Atlantic was interesting. A school of whales -played about the ship, coming so close as to create the fear that they -would overturn it. The Captain, a shrewd Irishman, was not to be -daunted, so he ordered a number of huge barrels or casks thrown -overboard, which immediately diverted the attention of the saurians, -with the result that a smart breeze coming up, they were left far -astern. - -A boat, said to be a pirate, was sighted against the horizon, but -fortunately made no attempt to come close, heading away towards the -Summer Islands, where, say the older generation of mountain folks, arise -all the warm south breezes that often temper wintry or early spring days -in the Pennsylvania Highlands, with blue sky and fleecy clouds. - -The Viscount Adare was pleased with these trifling adventures, and more -so with ocean travel, as it was his first long sea voyage, though he had -crossed the Channel and the Irish Sea scores of times. - -He debarked in Philadelphia after a voyage lasting nearly six weeks, -consequently the green foliage of England was replaced by the vivid -tints of Autumn on the trees which grew in front of the rows of brick -houses near the Front Street Landing Wharf. He had letters to the -British Consul, who was anxious to arrange a week or two of social -activity for the distinguished traveler, but The Viscount assured him -that he must be on his way. - -The ride in public coaches to Lancaster and Harrisburg was accomplished -without incident. His fellow travelers were anxious to point out the -various places of interest, the fine corn crops, livestock and farm -buildings, but the Englishman was so anxious to get to the wilds that -this interlude only filled him with impatience. - -[Illustration: BARK-PEELERS AT WORK. BLACK FOREST] - -He was impressed not a little by the battlefields of Paoli and -Brandywine, but most of all by the grove where the harmless Conestoga -Indians were encamped when surprised and massacred by the brutal Paxtang -Boys. The word “Indians” thrilled him, and whetted his curiosity, which -was somewhat appeased on his arrival at Harrisburg by the sight of five -Indians in full regalia, lying on the grass under John Harris’ Mulberry -Tree, waiting to be ferried across the river. - -He tarried only one night at Harrisburg, then hiring a private -conveyance, started down the Cumberland Valley, where he most admired -the many groves of tall hardwoods–resting at Carlisle and -Shippensburg–as originally planned. At Carlisle, he was waited on at his -inn by a German woman, who explained to him that she was none other than -“Molly Pitcher,” or Molly Ludwig, the intrepid heroine of the Battle of -Monmouth. - -It was on a bright autumnal morning that, with pack on back, and staff -in hand, he started for the heights of Cove Mountain, towards the west -country. On the way he passed a small roadside tavern, in front of which -a few years before had played a little yellow-haired boy, with a turkey -bell suspended around his neck so that he could not get lost. The German -drovers who lolled in front of the hostelry were fond of teasing the -lad, calling him “Jimmy mit the bells on,” much to the youngster’s -displeasure. His mother was a woman of some intellectual attainments, -and occasionally would edify the society folk of Mercersburg by reciting -the whole of Milton’s “Paradise Lost.” - -In time this boy became known as James Buchanan, the only Pennsylvanian -to occupy the Presidential chair. - -There were many taverns along the road, considering the wildness of the -country, and The Viscount thought how much history and tradition was -being made about their inglenooks and home-garths. The forests of -chestnuts, yellow pine and rock oak, the grand scenery of distant -valleys and coves, interested him more, and the occasional meetings with -the mountain people along the way, whom he enjoyed conversing with, -about the local folk-lore, game and Indians. On many of the log barns -and sheds were nailed bear paws, deer horns and wolf hides, and the -hieroglyphics and signs, to ward off witches, were keenly interesting to -his inquiring gaze. - -It was amazing how the road wound in serpentine fashion among the -mountains; the distance could have been much shortened, he thought. - -One morning a backwoodsman with a black beard that hung almost to his -feet, explained to him the “short cuts,” or paths that went down the -steep slopes of the mountains, lessening the distance of the regular -roads followed by the packers around the elbows of the mountain ravines. - -The Viscount Adare enjoyed these “short cuts” hugely. They reminded him -of his Alpining days, and they led him right through the forests, under -the giant oaks and pines where he saw many unusual looking birds, such -as Pileated Woodpeckers and Carolina Paraquets, while occasionally a -Deer or Gray Fox crossed his path. He had reached the bottom of a ravine -where a stream headed at a big spring, while taking one of these “short -cuts,” when he came in sight of a clearing which contained a corn field, -a pasture lot or commons, a log house, log barn, and a smaller log -cabin, that looked like a smoke-house. Smoke was issuing from an opening -in the roof of the tiny structure, which might have passed for a child’s -play house, modelled after the larger log dwelling. As he neared the -little hut, which reminded him of an Alpine _baracq_, and which stood -close to the path, the door opened and two most curious looking figures -emerged. In old England he had seen sweeps, but these were more -grotesque and grimier than any he could recall. As he drew nearer, he -perceived that while one appeared to be a man, the other was a young -woman. Both were entirely unclad, save that the woman’s locks were -covered by a homespun cap of the tam o’shanter pattern. Both were -literally black, from head to foot. - -When they saw the traveler, the woman ran back into the cabin, pulling -the door shut, while the “Jim Crow” man waited in the path until joined -by the surprised Viscount. - -“What is all this, my good man,” he queried, “been cleaning your chimney -and fallen through it into a barrel of tar?” - -“Oh, no,” said the grimy mountaineer, smiling, his teeth looking very -white against his swarthy visage. “My business is to make lamp black, -and my friend and I have been sweeping down the walls, collecting the -output this morning, and boxing it, and had just finished when you -appeared in sight.” - -The fellow made no attempt to apologize for his outlandish appearance, -but stood there in the sunlight like an imp of darkness, chatting with -the Englishman. - -“I don’t want to keep your lady friend penned up in there any longer,” -said The Viscount, as he started to move away. - -“Oh, don’t go,” said the maker of lamp black, “I don’t know why she acts -that way; stay and have dinner with us. We never let a stranger go by -without furnishing him with some food.” - -Ordinarily, The Viscount Adare, unconventional as he was, would have -scurried away from such grimy surroundings, but there was something that -appealed to him about the lamp black maker’s lady, even in her coat of -ebony grime, that made him decide to tarry. - -“Thanks, I will stay,” he replied, “but I’ll go to the barn so as to -give your ‘friend,’ as you call her, a chance to come out.” - -“Don’t you bother to do that,” said the black man. “She is acting -foolish today; don’t give her the satisfaction to move a step. She never -minded showing herself to anybody before.” - -These last words were secretly pleasing to the Viscount, as it showed -that the young woman recognized in him a person of superior -sensibilities, but he hurried to the barn until he knew that she had -been given time to escape to the house. But he could not help hearing -the lamp black maker loudly chiding her for modesty, a trait she had -never displayed previously. Pretty soon he saw the fellow making trips -to the spring, carrying water buckets into the house. The Viscount sat -on the doorstep of the barn, watching the juncos flying about among the -savin bushes in the clearing, or his eyes feasting on the cornelian red -foliage of the sassafras trees on the hill, inwardly speculating if with -her black disguise washed off, the young woman, whose higher nature he -had aroused, would be as good looking as he imagined her to be. He made -a mental picture of her loveliness, ranking her close beside that of -high bred beauties of his own land, of the types depicted by Romney, -Kneller and Lely. - -It was not long before he saw her emerge from the house, all washed and -scrubbed, with her hair neatly combed, clad in a spick and span -“butternut” frock. As she came towards him, he noted that she was a -trifle above the average height, and her feet, despite the rough brogans -she wore, were very small. He saw, to his amazement, that she was the -counterpart of his mental picture, only more radiantly lovely. When she -drew near, she asked him, her face lighting up very prettily, as she -spoke, if he would like to come to the house to rest, that she would -soon prepare dinner, and hoped that he would not be too critical of her -humble efforts as a cook. - -Her eyes seldom met his, but he could see that they were large and -grey-brown, with delicately penciled black brows, and black lashes. Her -face was rather long and sallow, or rather of a pinkish pallor. Her hair -was cameo brown, her nose long and straight, the lines of her mouth -delicate and refined, with lips unusually thin. He had noticed, as she -came towards him, that her slender form swayed a little forward as she -walked, reminding him of the mythical maiden Syrinx, daughter of the -River God, whom the jealous-hearted Pan changed into a reed. - -The Viscount Adare was far more disconcerted than his hostess, as he -followed her to the log house. Just as they approached the door she -whispered, “I hope that you will forgive the awful exhibition I made of -myself.” - -Indoors she sat down on one of the courting blocks by the great open -hearth, where pots of various sizes hung from the cranes. The man, who -was still trying to get the lamp black out of his curly hair and beard, -was only partially dressed, and looked all the world like pictures of -the lascivious Lupercalian Pan himself. - -The Englishman felt strangely at ease in the cabin, watching the -slender, reed-like girl prepare the meal, and enjoyed the dinner with -his humble entertainers. - -Shortly after the repast another bearded backwoodsman appeared at the -door. The lamp black maker had an appointment to go with him to some -distant parts of the Shade Mountains to examine bear pens, and asked to -be excused. He would not be back until the next day; it was nothing -unusual for him to leave his friend alone for a week at a time on -similar excursions. - -The Viscount was in no hurry to go, as never had a woman appealed to him -as did the lamp black maker’s young assistant. Perhaps it was the -unconventional character of their first meeting that shocked his love -into being; at any rate he was severely smitten; probably John Rolfe was -no more so, on his first glimpse of the humane Pocohontas. - -After the two hunters had gone, the young woman sat down on the other -courting block, on the opposite of the inglenook, and The Viscount -decided to ask her to tell him the story of her life. She colored a -trifle, saying that no one had ever been interested in her life’s -history before, therefore, she might not repeat it very well. - -She had been born at sea, of parents coming from the northern part of -Ireland. They had settled first in the Cumberland Valley, then, when she -was about a dozen years old, decided to migrate to Kentucky. They had -not gotten much further than the covered bridge across the Little -Juniata, when they were ambushed by robbers, and all the adult members -of the party, her parents and an uncle, were slain. The children were -carried off, being apportioned among the highwaymen. She fell to the lot -of the leader of the band, Conrad Jacobs, who took more than a fatherly -interest in her. - -He was a middle-aged married man, but he openly said that when the girl -was big enough, he would chase his wife away and install her in her -place. But she was kindly treated by the strange people, even more so -than at home, for her mother had been very severe and unreasonable. - -When she was fifteen she saw signs that the outlaw was going to put his -plan into effect–to drive his wife out into the forest, like an old -horse–and probably would have done so, but for Simon Supersaxo, the lamp -black man, who came to the highwayman’s shanty frequently on his hunting -trips. - -The robber became jealous of the young Nimrod and threatened to shoot -him if he came near the premises again. A threat was as good as a -promise with such people, so Supersaxo was ready to kill or be killed on -sight. - -He met the highwayman one evening in front of McCormick’s Tavern, and -drawing the bead, shot him dead. He was not arrested, but feted by all -the innkeepers for ridding the mountains of a dangerous deterrent to -travel, while she, her name was Deborah Conner, went to help keep house -for him, along with the outlaw’s widow, but in reality to help make lamp -black. - -That was four years before. Since old Mother Jacobs had died and -Deborah, now nineteen years of age, was being importuned by Supersaxo to -marry him. - -Previous to the Englishman’s coming that morning, she had never felt any -shame at working in the lamp black hut with her employer, or appearing -before passers-by unclad, but now a great light had come to her; she was -free to confess that she was changed and humiliated. - -The Viscount looked her over and over, and far into those wonderful -stone grey eyes that mirrored a refined soul lost in the wilderness. -Then he made bold to speak: - -“Deborah”, he said, “since you have been so frank with me in telling the -story of your life, I will freely confess to you that I loved you the -minute my eyes rested on you, even in your unbecoming homespun cap, and -lamp black from head to foot. I realize that your being here is but an -accident, and my coming the instrument to take you away. I will marry -you, and strive always to make you happy, if you will come away with me, -and I will take you to England where, among people of refined tastes, -you will shine and always be at peace.” - -Deborah opened her thin delicate mouth in surprise, and her eyes became -like grey stars. “Really, do you mean that”? she said. - -“I mean every word,” replied The Viscount Adare. - -“I know that I feel differently towards you than any man I have seen, so -I must love you, and I will always be happy with you,” resumed the girl. -“And while I owe Simon Supersaxo a deep debt of gratitude for saving me -from being forced into marrying that horrid old road-agent, I owe myself -more, and you more still. I will go with you whenever you are ready to -take me, no matter what my conscience will tell me later. Though I’ll -say to you honestly that I never thought there was any life for me -further than to make lamp black, until you came.” - -She explained to him that at Christmastime the lamp black man always -went with a party of companions on a great elk hunt to the distant -Sinnemahoning Country, and if The Viscount would return then, she would -arrange to meet him at a certain place at a certain day and hour, and go -away with him. “There is a little clearing or old field on the top of -the ridge, beyond this house,” and pointing her slender white hand, -showed to him through the open door. “Meet me there on the day before -Christmas, and I will be free to go away with you rejoicing.” - -The balance of the visit was passed in pleasant amity, until towards -nightfall, when The Viscount shouldered his pack and seized his staff, -and started away, not for Pittsburg, but eastward again. Deborah, her -slender reed-like figure swaying in the autumn breeze, walked with him -to the edge of the clearing. She kissed him goodbye among the savin -bushes, and he kissed her many times in return, until they parted at the -carnelian-leafed sassafras trees on the hill, and he commenced the -ascent of the steep face of Chestnut Ridge. - -The trip back to Philadelphia was taken impatiently, but with a -different kind of impatience; he wanted the entire intervening time -obliterated, until he could get back to his strange exotic mountain -love. In Philadelphia he engaged passage for England the first week in -January, and wrote letters abroad to complete the arrangements for -taking his wife-to-be to his ancestral home. He could never forget the -last afternoon in the Quaker City. Christmas was coming, and the spirit -of this glad festival was in the air, even more so than in “Merrie -England.” He was walking through Chancellor Street when he came upon two -blind Negro Christmas-singers, former sailors, who had lost their sight -in the premature explosion of a cannon on the deck of a frigate on the -Delaware River during the Revolutionary War. He stopped, elegant -gentleman that he was, listened enraptured to their songs of simple -faith: “Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow.” - -“If they had so much to be thankful for,” he mused, “how much more have -I, with lovely Deborah only a few days in the future.” - -Then he gave them each five shillings and moved on. A little further -down the street, he met an old Negro Woman selling sprigs of holly with -bright red berries. He bought a sprig. “I’ll take it to Deborah,” he -said to himself. - -He returned to Harrisburg by the stage coach, accompanied by a Negro -body-servant well recommended by the British Consul. At Harrisburg he -purchased four extra good horses. With these and the Negro he retraced -his previous journey. He left the Negro and the horses at McCormick’s -Tavern, continuing the balance of the journey on foot, his precious -sprig of holly, with the bright red berries, fastened on the top of his -staff, that had often been decked with the _edelweiss_ and the Alpine -rose. Deborah had said that she knew all the mountain paths back to -McCormick’s, so they could reach there quickly, and be mounted on fast -horses almost before her employer missed them. - -His heart was beating fast as he neared his trysting place, the little -clearing on the ridge, the morning before Christmas. Peering through the -trees, he observed that Deborah was not there, but surely she would soon -come, the sun was scarcely over the Chestnut Ridge to the east! A grey -fog hung over the valley, obscuring the little cabin in the cove. - -He waited and waited all day long, but no Deborah appeared. He walked -all over the top of the ridge to see if there were other clearings, lest -he had gotten to the wrong one. There were no others, just as she had -said. Cold beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead; he was -angry; he was jealous; the day was closing bitterly cold. “The woman -that I want, she will not come.” - -Finally as the sun was going down behind the western summits of the -Alleghenies, he untied the sprig of holly from the end of his -mountain-staff, and bending over, stuck it in the fast freezing earth, a -symbol of his faithless adventure, and started down the mountain, -straight towards Deborah Supersaxo’s cabin. - -At the foot of the hill he met her coming towards him–her face was -deadly pale, her thin lips white as death–instantly his hate changed to -tender love again. - -“Kill me if you wish,” she cried out before he had time to speak, and -held out her arms to show her non-resistance, “for I have been unworthy. -I broke my faith with you, and was not going to come; I repented at -leaving Supersaxo, who had been so good to me when I was in distress. I -was going to leave you in the lurch. Then, then,” and here tears -trickled down her ghastly cheeks, “I was sitting on the courting log by -the fire, commending myself for my loyalty, when a few minutes ago one -of his friends came in to say that the day before yesterday, while -looking at somebody’s bear pen near the Karoondinha, it fell in on him -and broke his neck. I was just coming up the hill to tell you, if you -were still waiting, how wicked I had been to you, and how I had been -punished. Kill me if you wish, I can never be happy any more.” - -The Viscount Adare did not hesitate a moment, but flinging down his -staff, he rushed to the girl and caught her in his arms. “Doubly blessed -are we this night, dear Deborah, for there is now no impediment to our -happiness; no misdirected sense of duty can cast a shadow on the joy -that lies before us. I want you now more than ever before, after this -final trial, and you must come with me!” - -“Never say must again,” said Deborah, sweetly, looking up into his eyes, -“I am your willing slave; I will go with you to the ends of the earth: I -want to redeem this day by years of devotion, years of love.” - -Picking up his staff, The Viscount Adare and the mountain girl resumed -their journey, past the now deserted log house and the lamp black shack -where they had first met, up the steep mountain, and off towards -McCormick’s Tavern, near where, in a deep pine grove, the Negro -body-servant would be waiting with the horses. - -That is all that has been recorded in the mountains concerning the lamp -black girl and The Viscount Adare. In England there is an oil painting -of a certain Viscountess of the name that bears a striking resemblance -to the one time Deborah Conner. - -Up on the ridge, in the little clearing, one or more of the seeds of the -sprig of holly took root, and grew a fine tree. In order that this story -may be localized, it is said that this is one of the points furthest -north of any specimen of the native holly in Pennsylvania. In time it -died off, but not before other scions sprang up, and there has always -been a thrifty holly tree on the hill, as if to commemorate a lover’s -tryst, whose heart when on the point of breaking from hideous despair, -found the fullness of his happiness suddenly, and whose story is an -inspiration to all aching hearts. - -[Illustration] - - VII - _The Second Run of the Sap_ - - -The selective draft, according to Dr. Jacobs, a very intelligent Seneca -Indian, residing on the Cornplanter Reservation in Warren County, was -practiced by Pennsylvania Indians in some of their earlier conflicts, -notably in the bloody warfare in the Cherokee country. - -In the war against the Cherokees, there was a popular apathy at home, as -it was not undertaken to repel an unjust invasion, but for the purpose -of aggression, after the murder of a number of Cherokees by the Lenape, -and as such did not appeal to the just and patient tribesmen in general. - -In order to increase the invading armies beyond the limits of the -volunteer quotas of warriors and chiefs, who were of patrician -antecedents, the draft was resorted to, with the result that a -formidable host departed for the Southland, ravaging the enemy’s -country, and bringing in many prisoners. - -The Cherokees were not completely vanquished, as they were victorious in -some of the conflicts, and also made numerous prisoners. Some of these -were tortured to death, others were adopted by families that had lost -their sons, while a few escaped and made their way Northward. - -[Illustration: THE FALLEN MONARCH, PORTAGE CREEK] - -The war was followed by the usual period of upheaval and reconstruction, -and the moral code of the redmen suffered as much as did modern -civilization as an aftermath of the world war. Many Cherokee prisoners -were brought to Pennsylvania and put at menial work, or bartered as -slaves while others intermarried with the northern tribes, so that -Cherokee blood become a component part of the make-up of the -Pennsylvania aboriginies. The Cherokee legends and history lingered -wherever a drop of their blood remained, so that the beginnings of some, -at least, of our Pennsylvania Indian folk-lore hark back to the golden -age of the Cherokees. - -They certainly have been the martyr-race, the Belgians of the North -American Indians, even to the time of their brutal expulsion from their -Carolina homes during the Nineteenth Century by U. S. troops at the -behest of selfish land-grabbers, and sentenced to die of exhaustion and -broken hearts along the dreary trek to the distant Indian Territory. - -Among the bravest and most enthusiastic of the Pennsylvania invaders was -the young warrior In-nan-ga-eh, chief of the draft, who led the drafted -portion of the army against the Cherokee foemen. He was of noble blood, -hence himself exempt from the draft, but he was a lover of war and -glory, and rejoiced to lead his less well-born, and less patriotic -compatriots into the thick of battle. Although noble rank automatically -exempted from the draft, the young scions of nobility enlisted -practically to a man, holding high commissions, it is true, yet at all -times bold and courageous. - -In-nan-ga-eh was always peculiarly attractive to the female sex. Tall, -lithe and sinewy, he was a noted runner and hunter, as well as famed for -his warlike prowess. At twenty-two he was already the veteran of several -wars, notably against the Ottawas and the Catawbas, and thirsted for a -chance to humble his southern rivals, the Cherokees. He wished to make -it his boast that he had fought and conquered tribes on the four sides -of the territory where he lived, making what is now the Pennsylvania -country the ruling land, the others all vassal states. - -He was indiscriminate in his love making, having no respect for birth or -caste, being different from his reserved and honorable fellow -aristocrats, consequently at his departure for the south, he was mourned -for by over a score of maidens of various types and degrees. If he cared -for any one of these admirers, it was Liddenah, a very beautiful, kindly -and talented maiden, the daughter of the noted wise man or sooth-sayer, -Wahlowah, and probably the most remarkable girl in the tribe. - -That she cared for such an unstable and shallow-minded youth to the -exclusion of others of superior mental gifts and seriousness of purpose, -amply proved the saying that opposites attract, for there could have -been no congeniality of tastes between the pair. Temperamentally they -seemed utterly unsuited, as Liddenah was artistic and musically -inclined, and a chronicler of no mean ability, yet she would have given -her life for him at any stage of the romance. She possessed ample -self-control, but when he went away her inward sorrow gnawing at her -heart almost killed her. She may have had a presentiment of what was in -store! - -During invasions of this kind, communication with home was maintained by -means of runners who carried tidings, good or bad, bringing back verbal -lists of the dead, wounded and missing, some of which they shamefully -garbled. - -In-nan-ga-eh was decorated several times for conspicuous bravery, and -was reported in the vanguard of every attack, until at length came the -shocking news of his ambush and capture. Over a score of the most -beautiful maidens along the Ohe-yu and Youghiogheny were heartbroken to -distraction, but none more so than the lovely and intellectual Liddenah. -This was the crowning blow, her lover taken by his cruel foes, being -perhaps boiled alive, or drawn and quartered. Seated alone in her lodge -house by the banks of The Beautiful River, she pictured all sorts of -horrors befalling her beloved, and of his own deep grief at being held -prisoner so far from his homeland. - -It was a humiliation to be captured, and by a band of Amazons, who -begged permission to entrap the fascinating enemy. Finding him bathing -in a deep pool, they surrounded it, flinging at him slightly poisoned -darts, which made him partially overcome by sleep, so that he was only -able to clamber out on the bank, there to be secured by his fair captors -and led in dazed triumph to their chief. - -The Chieftain was elated at the capture, and treated the handsome -prisoner with all the deference due to his rank. Instead of boiling him -in oil, or flaying him, he was feted and feasted, and the warlike bands -became demoralized by catering to his pleasure. - -It was not long before the chief’s daughter, Inewatah, fell in love with -him, and as her illustrious father, Tekineh, had lost a son in the war, -In-nan-ga-eh was given the choice of becoming the chief’s adopted son or -his son-in-law. He naturally chose the latter, as the wife-to-be was -both beautiful and winning. - -The war resulted in defeat for the Cherokees, although the old chief -escaped to fastnesses further south with his beautiful daughter and -alien son-in-law. All went well for a year and a half after the peace -when In-nan-ga-eh, began to feel restless and listless for his northern -mountains, the playground of his youth. He wanted to go on a visit, and -asked the chief’s permission, giving as his word of honor, his love for -the chieftain’s daughter, that he would properly return. - -The Cherokee bride was as heartbroken as Liddenah; she had first asked -that she might accompany him on the trip, which was refused, but she -accepted the inevitable stoically outwardly, but with secret aching -bosom. - -In-nan-ga-eh was glad to get away; being loved too much was tiresome; -life was too enervating in the warm sunshine on Soco Creek; he liked the -camp and the hunting lodge; love making, too much of it, palled on him. -He wanted to be let alone. - -Accompanied by a bodyguard of selected Cherokees, he hurriedly made his -way to the North. One morning to the surprise and delight of all, he -appeared at his tribal village by the Ohe-yu, as gay and debonair as -ever. As he entered the town almost the first person he saw was -Liddenah. She looked very beautiful, and he could see at one glance how -she loved him, yet perversely he barely nodded as he passed. - -When he was re-united with his parents, who treated him as one risen -from the dead, his sisters began telling him about the news of the -settlement, of his many friends, of Liddenah. Her grief had been very -severe, it shocked her mother that she should behave so like a European -and show her feelings to such an extent. Then the report had come that -he had been put to death by slow torture. “Better that,” Liddenah had -said openly in the market place, “than to remain the captive of -barbarians.” - -Once it was taken for granted that he was dead, Liddenah began to -receive the attentions of young braves, as they came back from the South -laden with scalps and other decorations of their victorious campaign -against the Cherokees. Liddenah gave all to understand that her heart -was dead; she was polite and tolerant, but, like the eagle, she could -love only once. - -There was one young brave named Quinnemongh who pressed his suit more -assiduously than the rest, and aided by Liddenah’s mother, was -successful. The pair were quietly married about a year after -In-nan-ga-eh’s capture, or several months before he started for the -North, leaving his Cherokee bride at her father’s home on the Soco. - -Quinnemongh was not such a showy individual as In-nan-ga-eh, but his -bravery was unquestioned, his reliability and honor above reproach. He -made Liddenah a very good husband. In turn she seemed to be happy with -him, and gradually overcoming her terrible sorrow. - -When In-nan-ga-eh had passed Liddenah on entering the village, he had -barely noticed her because he supposed that he could have her any time -for the asking. When he learned that she was the wife of another, he -suddenly realized that he wanted her very badly, that she was the cause -of his journey Northward. The old passion surged through his veins; it -was what the bark-peelers call “the second run of the sap.” - -Through his sisters, who were among Liddenah’s most intimate friends, he -sought a clandestine meeting with his former sweetheart. They met at the -“Stepping Stones,” a crossing near the headwaters of Cowanshannock, in a -mossy glade, which had formerly been his favorite trysting place with -over a score of doting maidens in the ante-bellum days. - -Liddenah, inspired by her great love, never looked more beautiful. She -was probably a trifle above the average height, gracefully, but solidly -made. Her skin was very white, her eyes dark, her hair that of a raven, -while her aquiline nose, high cheek bones and small, fine mouth made her -resemble a high-bred Jewess more than an Indian squaw, a heritage -perhaps from a remote Semitic origin beyond the Pacific. She showed -openly how happy she was to meet In-nan-ga-eh, until he told her the -story of his tragic love, how she had broken his young heart by cruelly -marrying another while he languished in a Southern prison camp. In vain -she protested that, on all sides came seemingly authentic reports of his -death; he was obdurate in the destiny he had decreed. Quinnemongh must -die by his hand, and he would then flee with the widow to the country of -the Ottawas. The hot blood surging in his veins, like a second flow of -sap in a red maple, must be appeased by her submission. - -Liddenah was horrified; she came of eminently respectable ancestry, she -admired Quinnemongh, her husband, almost to the point of loving him, but -where that affection ended, her all-pervading obsession for In-nan-ga-eh -began and knew no limitations in her being. - -“Tonight”, said In-nan-ga-eh, scowling dreadfully, “I will surprise the -vile Quinnemongh in his lodge house, and with one blow of my stone -war-hammer crush in his skull, then I will scalp him and meet you at the -stepping stones, and by the moonlight we will decamp to the far free -country of the Ottawas, his scalp dangling at my belt as proof of my -hate and my bravery”. - -Liddenah gave a reluctant assent to the fiendish program when they -parted. On her way home through the forest path her conscience smote her -with Mosaic insistence–the blood of her ancestors, of the Lost Tribe of -Israel, would not permit her to sanction the murder of a good and true -warrior. She would immolate herself for her family honor, and for her -respect for Quinnemongh. - -Arriving at the lodge-house she went straight to Quinnemongh and -confessed the story of her meeting with the perfidious In-nan-ga-eh, all -but the homicidal part. Quinnemongh was not much surprised, as he knew -of her great love for the ex-Cherokee prisoner, and In-nan-ga-eh’s -capricious pride. - -“Quinnemongh”, she said, between her sobs, for, like a white girl, she -was tearful, “I was to meet In-nan-ga-eh tonight, when the moon is over -the tops of the trees, by the stepping stones, and we were to fly -together to the country of the Ottawas. You present yourself there in my -stead, and tell the false In-nan-ga-eh that I have changed my mind, that -I am true to my noble husband”. - -Needless to say, Quinnemongh was pleased at this recital, and promised -to be at the ford at the appointed time. Like most persons under similar -circumstances, he was eager to be on his errand, and departed early, -armed with his favorite scalping knife. Liddenah kissed and embraced -him, calling him her “hero”, and once he was out of sight, she darted -into his cabin and lay down among his blankets and buffalo robes, -covering herself, all but the top of her brow, and huddling, all curled -up, for the autumnal air was chill. - -The moon slowly rose higher and higher until it reached the crowns of -the giant rock oaks along the edge of the “Indian fields”. The gaunt -form of In-nan-ga-eh could now be seen creeping steadily out of the -forest, bounding across the clearing and, stone axe in hand, entered the -cabin where he supposed that Quinnemongh was sleeping. A ray of shimmery -moonlight shone full on the upturned forehead of his victim. Animated by -a jealous hate, he struck a heavy blow with his axe of dark diorite, -crushing in the sleeper’s temples like an eggshell. Leaving the weapon -imbedded in his victim’s skull, he deftly cut off the long bushy scalp -with his sharp knife, and, springing out of the hut, started off on a -dog-trot towards the stepping stones, waving his bloody, gruesome -souvenir. - -He approached the fording with the light of the full moon shining on the -waters of the brook; he was exultant and grinding his teeth in lustful -fury. Who should he see there–not the fair and yielding goddess -Liddenah, but the stalwart form of the recently butchered and scalped -Quinnemongh. Believer in ghosts that he was, this was almost too much of -a visitation for him. Pausing a minute to make sure, he rushed forward -brandishing the scalp in one hand, his knife, which caught the moon’s -beams on its blade in the other. - -“Wretch”! he shrieked at Quinnemongh, “must I kill you a second time to -make you expiate your sin at marrying Liddenah”? - -Quinnemongh, who stood rigid as a statue at the far side of the ford, -replied, “You have not killed me once; how dare you speak of a second -time”? - -“Whose scalp have I then”? shouted In-nan-ga-eh, as he continued to rush -forward. - -“Not mine surely”, said Quinnemongh, as he felt his comparatively sparse -locks. - -Just as the men came face to face it dawned on both what had happened, -and with gleaming knives, they sprang at one another in a death -struggle. For half an hour they fought, grappling and stabbing, kicking -and biting, in the shallow waters of the ford. Neither would go down, -though Liddenah’s scalp was forced from In-nan-ga-eh’s hand, and got -between the breasts of the two combatants, who pushed it, greasy and -gory, up and down as they fought. They literally stabbed one another -full of holes, and bit and tore at their faces like wild beasts; they -carved the skin off their shoulders and backs, they kicked until their -shin bones cracked, until finally both, worn out from loss of blood, -sank into the brook and died. - -In the morning the scalped and mutilated form of Liddenah was discovered -among the gaudy blankets and decorated buffalo robes; a bloody trail was -followed to the stepping stones, where the two gruesome corpses were -found, half submerged in the red, bloody water, in an embrace so -inextricable, their arms like locked battling stags’ antlers that they -could not in the rigidity of death be separated. Foes though they were, -the just and patient Indians who found them could do nothing else but -dig a common grave in the half-frozen earth, close to the stepping -stones, and there they buried them together, with Liddenah’s soggy scalp -and their bent and broken knives, their bodies to commingle with earth -until eternity. - -[Illustration] - - VIII - _Black Chief’s Daughter_ - - -It was the occasion of the annual Strawberry Dance at the Seneca -Reservation, a lovely evening in June, when, after a warm rain, there -had been a clear sunset, and the air was sweet with the odor of the -grass, and the narrow roads were deep with soft, brown mud and many -puddles of water. - -In the long, grey frame Council House all was animation and excitement. -The grim old Chief, Twenty Canoes, decked out in his headdress of -feathers, followed by the musicians with wolf-skin drums filled with -pebbles had arrived, and taken places on the long bench that ran almost -the entire length of the great hall. Other older and distinguished -Indians, Indian guests from the Cornplanter Reservation in Pennsylvania, -and from the New York Reservations at Tonawanda, and the Geneseo, and a -few white visitors, including the Rev. Holt, the Town Missionary and -Attorney Vreeland, the agent, with their families, completely filled the -lengthy bench. - -The Indian dancers, male and female, gaily attired, had been gathering -outside, and now, with the first rattle of the drums, filed into the -room and began to dance. As the first loud tattoo was heard, the dancers -commenced shaking their shoulders, holding their arms rigid, and the -“Shimmy” of decadent New York and Philadelphia of nearly half a century -later, was rendered effectively by its originators, the rhythmic -aborigines. As they danced in single file around the visitors’ bench and -past the Chief, to the beat of the wolf skin drums, they melodiously -chanted, first the men, and then the women: “Wee-Wah, Wee-Wah, Wee-Wah, -Wanna; Wee-Wah, Wee-Wah, Wee-Wah, Wanna.” At times the women joined in -the general song, swelling the volume of the melody, until it drowned -out the drum-beats. The windows were open and the perfume of lilacs was -wafted in on the evening breeze, as the swaying files of Indian braves -and maidens shimmied around and around. Among the white visitors was one -young man who was particularly impressed, as he was there not out of -idle curiosity, but to study the manners and customs of the last of the -Senecas, in order to write his doctor’s thesis at the University, the -subject being “The Later History of the Seneca Indians in New York.” - -Christian Trubee, for that was his name, had always been interested in -the redmen, a natural heritage from pioneer and frontiersman ancestors -who had fought the Indians all along the Allegheny Mountains and in the -Ohio River basin. He had lately come to Steamburg, putting up at Pat -Smith’s “long house,” where he had quickly become acquainted with Simon -Black Chief, a handsome Indian youth who picked up a living as a -mountebank among the frequenters of the ancient hostelry. - -Simon was a wonderful runner, and if he could interest the lumber buyers -and the traveling men, would match himself against a little black mare -owned by Smith and usually ridden by the landlord’s stepson, for a half -mile or mile, and generally beat his equine rival. Other times he would -ride the horse at a gallop, without saddle or bridle, over the common -between the hotel and the Erie Railroad Station, picking up -handkerchiefs, cigars and quarter dollars off the greensward without -ever once losing his equilibrium. - -On the evening in question, he invited the young student to accompany -him to the Strawberry Dance at the Council House, and passing by the -one-roomed board shack where he lived, his sister, known as Black -Chief’s Daughter, came out and joined them, so that the trio proceeded -single file to the scene of the festivities. Neither Simon nor his -sister danced that evening, but sat near their distinguished guest, -explaining as best they could the methods and art of the performers, for -they were very proud of the Indian dancing and music. As the evening -progressed, Christian Trubee found himself admiring the Indian maid at -his side more than he did the shimmying hordes on the floor, or the -quaint picturesqueness of the unique ceremonial. - -Black Chief’s daughter was certainly the best looking girl present, -almost more like an American than an Indian in appearance, for her -profile was certainly on refined lines, and it was only when looking her -full in the face did the racial traits of breadth of the bridge of the -nose, flatness of lips and deep duskiness of complexion reveal -themselves. Her dark eyes were very clear and expressive, her teeth even -and white, her neck and throat graceful, and her form long, lithe and -elegant. - -Christian Trubee liked her very much, and was entirely absorbed by her -at the time of the last beat of the drums when, with a loud yell, the -dance concluded, and the now limp and perspiring Indian dancers crowded -out of doors into the cool moonlight. On the way back Simon Black Chief -led the way, his long hair blowing in the breeze, his sister following. -Trubee did not follow single file, but walked beside the fair damsel. -She was as tall as he was, though she wore deerskin shoes without heels. -When they parted, in the long lush grass, before the humble cabin, she -promised to show him some of the interesting spots on the -reservation–the grave of Blacksnake, the famous chief and orator, the -various tribal burial places, and a visit to King Jimmerson, who -alternated with Twenty Canoes as President of the Seneca Nation, to see -the silver war crowns of Red Jacket, Blacksnake and The Cornplanter, and -to Red House to meet Jim Jacobs, the venerable “Seneca Bear Hunter.” - -All of these excursions duly came to pass, about one a day, as the -weather turned steadily clear, day after day, when the Keewaydin blew, -and the distant mountains along The Beautiful River wore a purple green, -and fleecy white clouds tumbled about in the deep blue sky. On these -excursions Black Chief’s Daughter seemed to be the equal of her brother -and Trubee as a pedestrian, was never tired, always cheerful and anxious -to explain the various points of interest. - -At one of the graveyards she pointed out the last resting place of an -eccentric redman known as “Indian Brown,” with two deep, round holes in -the mound, made according to his last wishes, because he had been such a -bad Indian in life, that when the Devil came down one hole to get him, -he would escape by the other! - -The three young people got along famously on the trips and Trubee was -absorbing an unusual amount of aboriginal history and lore, and under -the most pleasant circumstances. While he never said a word of affection -or even compliment to Black Chief’s Daughter, he felt himself deeply -enamored, and often, in his quiet moments, pictured her as his wife. -Once or twice came the answering thought, how could he, a man of so much -education and refinement, take for life a mate who could not read, and -whose English was little better than a baby’s jargon? Where would he -take her to? Would she like his life, for surely he could not become a -squaw man on the reservation? On the other hand, she was gentle, -sympathetic and thoughtful, and the blood of regal Indian ancestors gave -her a refinement that sometimes education does not convey. But he was -happy in the moment, as are most persons of adaptability of character. -He was at home in any company, or in any circumstances, and had he been -old enough to enlist, would have made a brilliant record in the Civil -War; as it was he was but ten years of age when the conflict ended. - -[Illustration: READY FOR THE LOG DRIVE, KETTLE CREEK] - -As the days wore on, each one more delightful than its predecessor, -Simon Black Chief and his sister vied with one another to plan trips to -points of interest. One evening Simon asked his white friend if he had -ever seen a wolf-house, the local Indian method of trapping these -formidable animals. - -“What was it like, and where was there one?” was Trubee’s instant reply. - -“A wolf-house,” said Simon, "is a walled trap like a white man’s great, -big mouse-trap, with a falling door. There is still one preserved over -at the Ox Bow, at the tall, stone mansion called ‘Corydon,’ across the -Pennsylvania line." - -Trubee’s interest was aroused, not only in the wolf-house, but the “tall -stone mansion” and its possible occupants. Simon explained to him that -an English gentleman lived there, a son-in-law of one of the heads of -the Holland Land Company. He had been a great hunter in his earlier -days, following exclusively the methods taught him by the Indians. It -was a longer trip than any yet attempted, but Trubee secured Pat Smith’s -little black mare and two other horses, so that the trio departed on -horseback for the distant manor house. Black Chief’s Daughter, who rode -astride, was a skillful and graceful horsewoman, even though her mount -was a poor excuse of horseflesh. - -The trip along The Beautiful River was very enjoyable, and at length -they came in sight of “Corydon” on the hill, above the river, a great, -high, dark stone structure, ivy grown, standing in a group of original -white pines, some of these venerable monarchs being stag-topped, while -others had lost their crests in sundry tempests. There was a private -rope ferry across the river, but they rode the horses through the -stream, which was so deep in one place that the animals were forced to -swim. They rode into the grounds, past the huge stone gate posts, up the -hill, under the dark pines. As they neared the front door, the portico -designed by the famous Latrobe, several dogs which looked like Scottish -deerhounds rushed down from the porch and began to leap about the -horses’ throatlatches, barking loudly. - -Trubee checked his horse, and asked Simon, who was acquainted with the -family, to dismount and inquire if he might inspect the wolf-house, -which stood on a heathy eminence behind the garden. Once wolves had been -so plentiful and so bold that five of the monsters had been caught in -the trap in the space of three months. - -Before Simon Black Chief could dismount, two figures emerged from the -house, a young man and a young woman. Trubee’s quick glances made mental -pictures of both. The man was about thirty-five years of age, short and -thickset, with blond hair parted in the middle, a small mustache and -“Burnsides,” decidedly military in his bearing. The girl was of medium -height, possibly twenty years of age, decidedly pretty, with Sudan brown -hair, hazel eyes, clear cut features, a fair complexion and wearing a -flowing Mother Hubbard gown of prune-colored brocade. - -Trubee rode up to them, bowing, reining his horse, which he turned over -to Simon and, dismounting, apologized for his intrusion. He explained -how the Indian had told him of the curious wolf-house back of the garden -and how it would help him in his researches to see it. The girl -graciously offered to show it to him, but first invited the Indian girl -to dismount and rest. The young man remained talking to the Indian, but -the Seneca maid continued to sit on her horse, rigid and silent as a -Tanagra. On the way to the wolf-house, Christian Trubee introduced -himself, and, being able to mention several mutual acquaintances, which -put him on an easy footing with the fair chatelaine of “Corydon”. - -The charming girl told him that she was Phillis Paddingstowe, the -daughter of the lord of the manor, which made Trubee feel like saying -how natural it was to find _Phillis_ at _Corydon_! The young -military-looking man, “the little Colonel” she called him, was -Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Caslow, who had served with General -Huidekoper, “the hero of Gettysburg” in that immortal conflict, and was -at Corydon for a few days on a trout fishing trip. The old garden -through which they passed on the way to the wolf-house was full of -boxwood trees, which had been brought from Bartram’s gardens in -Philadelphia by wagon to Warren, and up the Ohe-yu in flat boats. They -gave a spicy, aromatic odor to the summer afternoon atmosphere. The -wolf-house was falling to decay, but Trubee took out his note book and -sketched it and recorded its dimensions. It was surprising that wolves -should come so close to a habitation, but Phillis stated that when she -was a baby they had actually killed and eaten three of her father’s -favorite Scotch deerhounds in one night, though they were chained to -kennels at the rear of the house. - -By the time they had returned from their inspection, Clement -Paddingstowe, Phillis’ father, had appeared, and supplemented his -daughter’s cordial invitation that they stay to tea. Trubee might have -remained, but Black Chief’s Daughter, though she was again urged by -Phillis and her father, seemed disinclined to partake of the -hospitality. They rode down the drive all a changed party. The Indian -girl had heard Trubee accept an invitation to return to “Corydon” in the -near future, and noted his admiring glances at her fair person; she felt -for the first time that she stood no chance against a white girl of -gentle blood, though her own native antecedents were of as noble -quality, for was she not Black Chief’s Daughter, and the granddaughter -of the undefeated warrior, Destroy-Town? - -She was silent and hung her head the whole way back to Steamburg. -Phillis, though delightfully courteous by nature, seemed a trifle -distant to the little Colonel that evening. Simon Black Chief was piqued -at himself for having brought unhappiness to his sister. Christian -Trubee was in love with Phillis Paddingstowe. Nevertheless, the young -collegian was too much a man of the world not to value the kindnesses -bestowed on him by Simon and his Sister, their parents and other Indians -of the reservation, to become suddenly cold and indifferent. Yet, alone, -he wondered why he had ever for a minute contemplated marrying an Indian -girl, and how slight would be their spiritual intercourse? Yet he was -here underrating Black Chief’s Daughter, who was not of the -earth-earthy, and had called herself to him “an imaginative person.” - -He tried to be polite and attentive to the Indian girl, but she noted -that on several occasions where she planned trips for certain days, he -demurred on account of engagements at “Corydon.” His manner was -different; the Indian girl, uncannily intuitive, would not be deceived. -The summer wore along, and Trubee saw that he could not keep up pleasing -Black Chief’s Daughter, a break must come somehow. And the neglected -maiden, unknown to him, was reading his every thought, and prepared to -make that break first. She had brought some late huckleberries to Pat -Smith’s wife at the long house, where she was told that Trubee had been -absent for three days at “Corydon”; that it was rumored he would marry -Clement Paddingstowe’s daughter in the Fall. - -As she walked along the path between the yellow, half-dead grasses, -swinging the little iron pot that had contained the berries, she began -planning for the dissolution of her unhappy romance. There were many May -apples or mandrakes ripening in the low places, and, stooping, she -uprooted several plants, half filling the pot with them. Then she left -the trail, and started across the meadow toward a group of ancient -hemlock trees, beneath which was the Cold Spring. Near the spring were -large, flat stones laid up like seats, and the remains of some stone -hearths where the Indians often roasted corn. She had her flints and -steel with her, and gathered enough dry twigs and punk to light a fire. -Then she sat down on one of the flat stones and, with her hands over her -face, she reviewed the story of her love for Trubee. He had cared for -her at first; that was consolation, but she was helpless beside the -white rival; red blood was as nothing beside blue. Then she nervously -tramped out the fire, as if to start on again. This life was a very -little thing, after all; if her dream had failed in this existence, -better end it, and come back again and fulfill it, even as a flower or -bird; it was impossible to prevent living again. She began to munch the -roots of the May apples which she had gathered, and then began to walk -across the fields toward the graveyard which contained the tomb of -“Indian Brown,” the bad man. - -As she came near the road which led to “Corydon” she made an effort to -run across it, but in the middle of it a dizziness seized her, then a -sharp pain, and she staggered and dropped in a heap, the dust rising -from the dry highway as she fell. The sand got in her eyes, nose and -mouth as she lay on the path, her legs twisting in convulsive spasms. -The sun was beginning to sink close to the tops of the long, rolling -summits of the western mountains as the form of a horseman came in sight -away down the long stretch of level road. It was Christian Trubee -returning from “Corydon,” flushed with the progress of his love making -with the fair and dainty Phillis Paddingstowe. He saw a black object in -the road; a wool sack fallen from some wagon, was his first conjecture. -Coming closer, he perceived it to be a human being, a woman, Black -Chief’s Daughter. - -He threw the bridle rein over the little mare’s head and sprang to the -ground. As he caught the limp form of the Indian girl in his arms, she -half opened her eyes and looked up at him. - -"Oh, Mr. Trubee, let me be, I pray of you; let me stay here and die; I -haven’t anything more to live for since we visited at ‘Corydon’." - -The young man did not know how to answer her, for he was honest always. -He lifted her on the saddle behind him, holding the long, lean arms -around his waist, while her head bobbed on his shoulder, and started the -little trappy black at a trot for the long house. It was supper time as -he neared the old hotel. In order to avoid attention, he rode up to the -kitchen door, at the back of the house. A small, ugly, very black -colored boy, with a banjo, from Jamestown, was strumming a Negro melody -to amuse the cooks. - -“Get on this horse quick, boy,” Trubee called to him, as he dismounted -with his limp burden, “and bring over Doctor Forrester; Black Chief’s -Daughter is in a bad way from poison.” - -Pat Smith’s wife and the other cooks ran out, and, taking in the -situation at a glance, carried the almost unconscious but uncomplaining -girl into the house where they laid her on a bench in the dance hall, -all unknown to the guests, munching their huckleberry pie in the nearby -dining room. The Doctor’s buggy was standing in front of his cottage, -and putting his horse to a gallop he raced the little Negro back to the -hotel. It did not take him long, as he was a noted herbalist, to -diagnose the case as poison from May apple root, very deadly, but a -drastic Indian emetic, administered just in time, preserved her life. - -It was a grisly scene in the bare, cheerless ball room; Black Chief’s -daughter, all undressed, lay on a bench, while Old Black Chief, her -father, and Taleeka, her mother, Simon, Pat Smith, his wife, his -daughter, Sally Ann, Doctors Forrester and Colegrove, and Christian -Trubee stood near her, or coming and going, most of them holding lighted -candles, which cast fretful shadows against the walls and -close-shuttered windows of this scene of much former ribald merrymaking. -All present knew why the girl had sought to take her life, yet not a -single accusing word was uttered. All wanted to save her–for what? Later -she was carried into one of the adjoining guest rooms and put to bed. - -Somewhat later Pat Smith’s wife, a motherly woman, met Trubee in the -hall, saying to him: - -“Won’t you please let me whisper to her that you are happy her life is -saved, and that you will marry her as soon as she is able?” - -The young man hesitated, then faltered: “I rather you’d not say it just -now.” - -When she was almost to the door he ran after her, saying: “Tell her what -you suggested, in my presence.” - -He followed her into the room. The landlady bent over the stricken girl -and gave her the message. Black Chief’s daughter looked up at Trubee, -and trying to smile, said: - -“I can’t do it; all I ask is that everything be as it was before you -came to the Reservation.” “ said the young man, "that I return to the -University, having everything as it was before we went to the Strawberry -dance, or before you took me to ‘Corydon’". - -“That is exactly my meaning”, the girl whispered faintly. “Then all will -be well”. - -“I think I can gather my things together and make the three o’clock -train east this morning; it is only right that I should go; I have made -everybody unhappy since I came here.” “replied Black Chief’s daughter, -"only me, and then only since the trip to ‘Corydon’." - -With a lingering hand clasp they parted, and Christian Trubee, like one -dazed by his unsuccessful tilt with Fate, moved off towards his room, -not knowing whether to be glad or sorry, but secretly eased in spirit -for accepting the only course that would extricate him from his -triangular dilemma. - -After he was gone, Black Chief’s daughter fell into a peaceful slumber -and did not wake, even when the roaring express train, with its blazing -headlight slowed down at Steamburg for its solitary eastbound passenger. - - IX - _The Gorilla_ - - -If Sir Rider Haggard was a Pennsylvanian he would doubtless lay the -scenes of his wonderful mystery stories in Snyder County. It is in that -ruggedly picturesque mountainous county where romance has taken its last -stand, where the old touches the new, and hosts, goblins and witches and -memories of panthers, wolves and Indians linger in cycle after cycle of -imaginative reminiscences. Every now and then, even in this dull, -unsympathetic age, when the world, as Artist Shearer puts it, “is -aesthetically dead”, Snyder County is thrilled by some new ghost, witch, -panther or mystery story. The latest of these in the last days of 1920 -and the first of 1921–the giant gorilla–has thrilled the entire -Commonwealth by its unique horror. - -The papers have told us how a gigantic man-ape escaped from a carnival -train near Williamsport, and seeking the South, fled over the mountains -to Snyder County, where it attacked a small boy, breaking his arm, held -up automobiles, rifled smoke houses and the like, and then appeared in -Snyder Township, Blair County, still further South, his nocturnal -ramblings in that region proving an effective curfew for the young folks -of a half-dozen rural communities. - -This story sounds thrillingly interesting, but as gorillas live on -fruit, and do not eat flesh, the animal in question would have starved -or frozen to death at the outset of his career in the Alleghenies, and -there the “X”, unknown quantity of the real story begins. The newspapers -have only printed the most popular versions of the gorilla mystery, only -a fraction of the romance and folk-lore that sprang up mushroom-like -around the presence of such an alien monster in our highlands. Already -enough has been whispered about to fill a good sized volume, most of it -absolutely untrue, yet some of the tales, if they have not hit the real -facts, have come dangerously close to it. - -Let the readers judge for themselves. Probably one of the most widely -circulated versions among the Snyder County mountaineers, the hardy -dwellers in the fastnesses of the Shade, Jack’s and White Mountains, is -the one about to be related. It is too personal to warrant promiscuous -newspapers publication, and even now all names have been changed and -localities altered, but to a Snyder County Mountaineer “all things are -plain”. This is the “authoritative”, confidential Snyder County version, -unabridged: - -To begin with, all the mountain people know Hornbostl Pfatteicher, whose -log cabin is situated near the heading of Lost Creek, on the borders of -Snyder and Juniata Counties. He has never been much of a worker, living -mostly by hunting and fishing, prospering greatly during the days when -the State raised the bounty on foxes and wild cats to an outrageously -extravagant figure–but no one cares; let the hunter’s license fund be -plundered and the taxpayers be jammed. - -He was also very noticeable during the Spring and Fall forest fires, -which never failed to burn some art of his mountain bailiwick annually. -He was opposed to Forester Bartschat, regarding him as too alert and -intuitive, and made valiant efforts through his political bosses to have -him transferred or removed. He was regular in his politics, could always -have a hearing at Harrisburg, and though an ardent fisherman, saw no -harm in the dynamiting or liming of streams, and upheld the right of -“the interests” to pollute the waterways with vile filth from paper -mills and tanneries. In other words he was, and probably is, typical of -the professional mountaineer that the politicians, through the nefarious -bounty laws, have maintained in the forests, to the detriment of -reforestation and wild life. - -Hornbostl, about 1915, was in love with a comely mountain girl, Beulah -Fuchspuhr, the belle of Lost Creek Valley, but he was away from home so -much, and so indifferent, and so much in his cups when in the -neighborhood that she found time to become enamored of a tie-jobber -named Heinie Beery, and ran away with him to Pittsburg. - -During the flu epidemic, about the time of the Armistice, she was seized -with the dreaded malady, and passed away, aged twenty-eight years. - -Hornbostl was in the last draft, but the Armistice was signed before he -was called to the colors, much to the regret of the better element, for -he was the sole pro-German in the mountains–a snake in a brood of -eaglets–and all allowed he should have been given a chance to fight his -beloved Kaiser. Though his name had a Teutonic flavor, he was only -remotely of German ancestry, and should have known better than to root -for a despotism–he, above all others, whose sole creed was personal -liberty when it came to interfering with his “vested rights” of hunting -and fishing out of season, and all other privileges of a lawless -backwoodsman. - -After attending the funeral of his wife in Pittsburg, he took the train -to Philadelphia, and while there the news of the Armistice was received, -consequently his grief was assuaged by this very satisfying information. -He boarded on one of the back streets in the southern part of the Quaker -City, in a rear room, which looked out on an alley where there were -still a number of private stables or mews, occupied for the most part by -the horses and carriages of the aristocracy. - -Hornbostl liked to sit at the window after his day’s work at Hog Island, -smoking his stogie and watching the handsome equipages coming and going, -the liveried colored coachmen, the long-tailed horses, with their showy -brass mounted harness, with jingling trappings, the animated groups of -grooms, stable boys and hangers-on. Some of the darkies kept game -roosters, and these occasionally strutted out into the alley and crowed -when there was bright sunshine and the wind came from the “Summer -Islands”. - -One afternoon he saw a strange spectacle enacted at the stable opposite -his window. A large collection of moth-eaten and dusty stuffed animals -and birds were unloaded from a dray–stuffed elks, horns and all, several -buffalo heads, four timber wolves, with a red bear like they used to -have in Snyder County, a golden eagle, with tattered flopping wings and -a great black beast that stood upright like a man were the most -conspicuous objects. A crowd of mostly Negro children congregated as the -half a hundred mangy specimens of this “silent zoo” became too much for -Hornbostl, and putting his stogie between his teeth, sallied out the -back door, hatless and in his shirt sleeves, a brawny rural giant who -towered above the puny citified crowd. - -He was greatly interested in that huge black beast which stood upright, -and could not quite classify it, though its hair was like that of a -black bear in its summer pelage. He sought out the tall Negro coachman -who was in charge of the stable, and asked why a museum was being -unloaded at that particular moment. - -“Yer see its jest dis way”, said the darkey, confidentially, “old Major -Ourry have died an’ ’is heirs dey didn’t want de stuff about, so dey -sent ’em down to de stable fer me to put in de empty box stalls”. - -As the conversation progressed the Negro intimated that the -aforementioned heirs would be glad to sell any or all of the specimens -at a reasonable figure. - -“I’ll give you ten dollars for that big animal that looks like a cross -between a Snyder County black bear and a prize fighter”, said Hornbostl. - -“The _gorilla_, you mean”, interposed the darkey. - -“Yes, I mean the gorilla”, answered the backwoodsman. - -“It’s yours”, said the Negro with a grin, for he was to get half of the -proceeds of all sales. He wondered why the uncouth stranger wanted a -stuffed gorilla, but of all the animals in the collection, he was most -pleased to get rid of that hideous effigy, the man-ape that might come -to life some dark cold night and raise ructions with the horses. - -Hornbostl offered five dollars more if the Negro would box the monster, -and they finally arranged to box it together, and keep it in the stable -until he would be let out at Hog Island. Eventually they got it to the -freight station, billed to Meiserville. - -At the time of the purchase it is doubtful if Hornbostl had any definite -idea of what he was going to do with his “find”, all that came later. -Hornbostl was glad to return to his mountain home, and sank complacently -back in his seat on the 11.30 A. M. train for Selim Grove Junction. It -was an uneventful trip, for he was an unimaginative person, taking -everything as a matter of course, though he did notice an unusually -pretty high school girl with a wonderfully refined face and carriage, -who got off the train at Dauphin, and followed her with his eyes as she -walked along the street back of the station and across the bridge that -spans Stony Creek, until the moving train shut her from view behind -Fasig’s Tavern. He thought that he had never seen anything quite so -lovely before; if his late sweetheart who had run away had been one -quarter as beautiful and elegant she would be worth worrying about. - -He reached Meiserville well after dark, for it was almost the shortest -day of the year, and put up there for the night. In the morning he -inquired at the freight office for his consignment, but hardly expected -it that soon. He had to wait three days before it arrived, but when it -did, he secured a team which hauled it to his mountain retreat, -depositing the crate in front of his door. After the teamster with his -pair of heavy horses, decked out with jingling bells, departed, -Hornbostl unpacked his treasure, and the huge, grinning man-ape stood -before him, seven feet tall. It was set up on a platform with castors, -so he ran it into the house, leaving it beside the old-fashioned open -fireplace, where he used to sit opposite his mother while they both -smoked their pipes in the old days. - -[Illustration: LAST RAFT IN THE WEST BRANCH OF SUSQUEHANNA] - -That night after supper, when the raftered room was dark, save for one -small glass kerosene lamp, and the fitful light of the embers, the -mountaineer sat and smoked, trying to conjure up the history of the -hideous monster facing him across the inglenook. Instead of evolving -anything interesting or definite, the evil genius of the man-ape, as the -evening progressed, seemed to take complete possession of him. He became -filled with vicious, revengeful thoughts; all the hate in his nature was -drawn to the surface as the firelight flashed on the glass eyes and -grinning teeth of the monstrous jungle king. All at once the maelstrom -of nasty thoughts assumed coherent form, and he realized why he had -brought the gorilla to Snyder County. - -He had heard since going to Philadelphia that the hated Heinie Beery had -taken a tie contract on the Blue Knob, the second highest mountain in -Pennsylvania, somewhere on the line between Blair and Bedford Counties. -He wanted to kill his rival, and now would be a chance to do it and -escape detection. He would dress himself up in the hide, and proceed -overland to Snyder Township, reconnoitre there, find his victim and -choke him to death, which the Negro coachman had told him was the chief -pastime of live gorillas in the African wilds. - -Suiting the action to the word, he drew his long knife and began cutting -the heavy threads which sewed the hide over the manikin. He soon had the -hide lying on the deal floor, and a huge white statue of lath and -plaster of Paris stood before him, like an archaic ghost. He did not -like the looks of the manikin, so pounded it to a pulp with an axe to -lime his kitchen garden. The hide was as stiff as a board, but between -the heat of the fire and bear’s grease he had it fairly pliable by -morning. By the next night it was in still better shape so he donned it -and sewed himself in. Physically he was not unlike the man-ape, gross -about the abdomen, sloping shouldered and long-armed, while his -prognathous jaw and retreating forehead were perfect counterparts of the -gorilla’s physiognomy. - -Arming himself with a long ironwood staff, he started on his journey -towards the Blue Knob country. He had to cross the Christunn Valley in -order to get into Jack’s Mountain, which he would follow along the -summits to Mount Union. It was a dark, starless night, and all went well -until he suddenly came upon the scene of a nocturnal wood chopping -operation. The wood-cutter, a railroader, had no other chance to lay in -his winter’s fuel supply than after dark, and by the light of a lantern -placed on a large stump had already stacked up a goodly lot of cordwood. -His son, a boy of fourteen, was ranking the wood. At the moment of the -gorilla-man’s appearance in the clearing the man had gone to the house -for a cup of hot coffee, leaving the lad alone at his work. The boy -heard the heavy footfalls on the chips, and thinking his father was -returning, looked up and beheld the most hideous thing that his eyes had -ever looked upon. He uttered a shriek of terror, but before he could -open his lips a second time the “gorilla” was upon him, slapping his -mouth until the blood flowed, with one brawny paw, while he wrenched his -arm so severely with the other that he left it limp and broken, hanging -by his side. Then the monster, looking back over his shoulder, loped off -into the deep forest at the foot of Jack’s Mountain. - -The boy, more dead than alive from fright, was found a few minutes later -by his father, to whom he described his terrible assailant. - -After that the man-ape was more careful when he traveled, although he -was seen by half a dozen persons until he got safely to the vicinity of -“the Monarch of Mountains”. - -Blue Knob is a weird and impressive eminence around which many legends -cluster, some of them dating back to Indian days. Its altitude at the -new steel forest fire tower is 3,165 feet above tide.“is a beautiful -word picture of the disappearance of two little tots on the slopes of -Blue Knob, from the gifted pen of Rev. James A. Sell, of Hollidaysburg. - -Heinie Beery was living alone in a small shack on Poplar Run, a stream -which has its heading on the slopes of Blue Knob, not far from the home -of the mighty hunter, Peter Leighty. Since the loss of his wife he was -gloomy and taciturn, and refused to live with his choppers and teamsters -in their big camp further down in the hollow. - -While searching for Beery, the man-gorilla was seen by several of the -woodsmen, and the lonely camp was almost in a panic by this savage -visitation. The man-ape was glad that his outlandish appearance struck -terror to all who saw him, else he might have been captured long before. -He watched his chance to get Beery where he wanted him, and in the -course of several days was rewarded. Meanwhile he had to live somehow, -and at dead of night broke into smoke-houses and cellars, eating raw -eggs and butter when hunger pressed him hard. In some ways it was no fun -playing gorilla on an empty stomach. - -One Sunday afternoon Beery, after eating dinner with his crew at their -camp near the mouth of the hollow, started on a solitary ramble up the -ravine which led past the small shanty where in the local vernacular, he -“bached it” towards the top of the vast and mysterious Blue Knob. Little -did he know that the man-ape was waiting behind his cabin, and followed -him to the summit, which he reached about dusk, and sat on a flat rock -on the brink of a dizzy precipice watching the lights flashing up at -Altoona and Johnstown, the long trains winding their way around Horse -Shoe Curve. He heard the brush crack behind him, and looking around -beheld the hideous monster that he had supposed his workmen had conjured -up out of brains addled by too much home-brew. - -Heinie Beery was a fighting Dutchman, but on this occasion his curly -black hair stood straight on end, and his dark florid face became as -ashen as death. He lost his self-control for an instant, and in this -fatal moment the giant “gorilla” gripped him behind the shoulders and -sent him careening over the precipice “to take a short cut to Altoona”. - -With a shout of glee the monster turned on his heel, his mission -accomplished, to return along the mountains and through the forests to -his cabin near the sources of Lost Creek. He was seen by a number of -children at Hollidaysburg and Frankstown, late at night, frightening -them almost out of their wits; he terrified several parties of -automobilists near Yellow Springs; he had all of Snyder Township in an -uproar before he had passed through it, but he eventually got to Shade -Mountain safe and sound. - -Once on his home mountains, overlooking Lewistown Narrows, a strange -remorse overcame him; he began to regret his folly, his odd caprice. He -sat on a high rock near the top of the mountain, much in the attitude of -Rodin’s famous “Penseur”, and began to sob and moan. It was a still -night, and the trackwalkers down in the valley heard him and called to -him through their megaphones. But the more they called the worse he -groaned and shrieked, as if he liked to mystify the lonely railroad men. -At length he got up and started along the mountain top, wailing and -screaming like a “Token”, until out of hearing of the trackwalkers and -the crews of waiting freight trains. He had played a silly game, made a -_monkey_ of himself and was probably now a murderer in the bargain. He -could hardly wait until he got to his cabin to rip off the hideous, -ill-smelling gorilla’s hide, and make a bonfire of it. He hoped that, if -no evil consequence befell him as a result of his mad prank, he would be -a better man in the future. - -However, as he neared his cabin, all his good resolves began to ooze out -of his finger tips. By the time he reached the miserable cabin he -decided to stick to his disguise, and continue the adventure to the end, -come what may. If he would be shot down like a vile beast, it would only -be retribution for Heinie Beery hurled off the crag of Blue Knob, -without a chance to defend himself. The night was long; he would travel -until morning and hide among the rocks until night, picking up what food -he could along the way. - -In his northward journey he had many thrilling experiences, such as -crossing the covered bridge at Northumberland at midnight, riding on the -trucks of a freight train to Jersey Shore and frightening fishermen at -Hagerman’s Run. When last seen he was near the flourishing town of -Woolrich, frightening old and young, so much so that a young local -sportsman offered a reward of “five hundred dollars dead, one thousand -dollars alive”, putting the Snyder County gorilla in the same category -with the Passenger Pigeon as a natural history curiosity. - -And in this terrible disguise Hornbostl Pfatteicher is expiating his -sins, black as the satanic form he has assumed, and when his penance is -over to be shed for the newer and better life. - - X - _The Indian’s Twilight_ - - -According to Daniel Mark, born in 1835, (died 1922), when the aged -Seneca Indian, Isaac Steel, stood beside the moss-grown stump of the -giant “Grandfather Pine” in Sugar Valley, in the early Autumn of 1892, -he was silent for a long while, then placing his hands over his eyes, -uttered these words: “This is the Indians’ Twilight; it explains many -things; I had heard from Billy Dowdy, when he returned to the -reservation in 1879, that the tree had been cut by Pardee, but as he had -not seen the stump, and was apt to be credulous, I had hoped that the -report was untrue; the worst has happened.” - -Then the venerable Redman turned away, and that same day left the -secluded valley, never to return. - -The story of the Grandfather Pine, of Sugar Valley, deserves more than -the merely passing mention already accorded it in forestry statistics -and the like. Apart from being probably the largest white or cork pine -recorded in the annals of Pennsylvania sylviculture–breast high it had -to be deeply notched on both sides, so that a seven foot cross-cut saw -could be used on it–it was the sacred tree of the Seneca Indians, and -doubtless of the earlier tribes inhabiting the country adjacent to the -Allegheny Mountains and the West Branch Valley. - -It was a familiar landmark for years, standing as it did near the mouth -of Chadwick’s Gap, and could be seen towering above its fellows, from -every point in Sugar Valley, from Schracktown, Loganton, Eastville and -Carroll. - -Professor Ziegler tells us that the maximum or heavy growth of white -pine was always on the winter side of the inland valleys; the biggest -pines of Sugar Valley, Brush Valley and Penn’s Valley were all along the -southern ridges. - -Luther Guiswhite, now a restauranteur in Harrisburg, moving like a -voracious caterpillar easterly along the Winter side of Brush Valley, -gradually destroyed grove after grove of superb original white pines, -the Gramley pines, near the mouth of Gramley’s Gap, which Professor -Henry Meyer helped to “cruise”, being the last to fall before his -relentless juggernaut. - -Ario Pardee’s principal pineries were mostly across the southern ridge -of Nittany Mountain, of Sugar Valley, on White Deer Creek, but the tract -on which the Grandfather Pine stood ran like a tongue out of Chadwick’s -Gap into Sugar Valley, almost to the bank of Fishing Creek. It is a well -known story that after the mammoth pine had been cut, Mike Courtney, the -lumberman-philanthropist’s woods boss, offered $100 to anyone who could -transport it to White Deer Creek, to be floated to the big mill at -Watsontown, where Pardee sawed 111,000,000 feet of the finest kind of -white pine between 1868 and 1878. - -The logs of this great tree proved too huge to handle, even after being -split asunder by blasting powder, crushing down a number of trucks, and -were left to rot where they lay. Measured when prone, the stem was 270 -feet in length, and considering that the stump was cut breast high, the -tree was probably close to 276 feet from root to tip. The stump is still -visible and well worthy of a visit. - -In addition to boasting of the biggest pine in the Commonwealth, one of -the biggest red hemlocks also grew in Sugar Valley, in the centre of -Kleckner’s woods, until it was destroyed by bark peelers in 1898. It -dwarfed the other original trees in the grove, mostly superb white -hemlocks, and an idea of its size can be gained when it is stated that -“breast high” it had a circumference of 30 feet. - -When Billy Dowdy, an eccentric Seneca Indian, was in Sugar Valley he -told ’Squire Mark the story of the Grandfather Pine, then recently -felled, and while the Indian did not visit the “fallen monarch” on that -occasion, he refrained from so doing because he said he could not bear -the sight. The greatest disaster that had yet befallen the Indians had -occurred, one that they might never recover from, and meant their final -elimination as factors in American history. - -Dowdy seemed unnerved when he heard the story of the demolition of the -colossal pine, and it took several visits to the famous Achenbach -distillery to steady his nerves so that he could relate its history to -his old and tried friend the ’Squire. In the evening, by the fireside, -showing emotion that rarely an Indian betrays, he dramatically recited -the story of the fallen giant. - -Long years ago, in the very earliest days of the world’s history, the -great earth spirit loved the evening star, but it was such an unusual -and unnatural attachment, and so impossible of consummation that the -despairing spirit wished to end the cycle of existence and pass into -oblivion so as to forget his hopeless love. Accordingly, with a blast of -lightning he opened his side and let his anguish flow away. The great -gaping wound is what we of today call Penn’s Cave, and the never ending -stream of anguish is the wonderful shadowy Karoondinha, now renamed John -Penn’s Creek. - -As time went on fresh hopes entered the subterranean breast of the great -earth spirit, and new aspirations towards the evening star kindled in -his heart of hearts. His thoughts and yearnings were constantly onward -and upward towards the evening star. He sought to bridge the gulf of -space and distance that separated him from the clear pure light of his -inspiration. He yearned to be near, even if he could not possess the -calm and cold constellation so much beyond him. He cried for an answer, -but none came, and thought that it was distance that caused the -coldness, and certainly such had caused the great disappointment in the -past. - -His heart was set on reaching the evening star, to have propinquity with -the heavens. Out of his strong hopes and deep desires came a tall and -noble tree, growing in eastern Sugar Valley, a king among its kindred, -off there facing the shining, beaming star. This tree would be the -symbol of earth’s loftiest and highest aspirations, the bridge between -the terrestrial and the celestial bodies. It was earth’s manliest, -noblest and cleanest aspiration, standing there erect and immobile, the -heavy plates of the bark like gilt-bronze armor, the sparse foliage dark -and like a warrior’s crest. - -The Indians, knowing full well the story of the hopeless romance of the -earth spirit and the evening star, or _Venus_, as the white men called -it, venerated the noble tree as the connecting link between two -manifestations of sublimity. They only visited its proximity on sacred -occasions because they knew that the grove over which it dominated was -the abode of spirits, like all groves of trees of exceptional size and -venerable age. - -The cutting away of most of the bodies of original pines has -circumscribed the abode of the spiritual agencies until they are now -almost without a lodgement, and must go wailing about cold and homeless -until the end of time, unless spiritual insight can touch our -materialistic age and save the few remaining patches of virgin trees -standing in the valley of the Karoondinha, the “Stream of the Never -Ending Love”, now known by the prosaic cognomen of “Penn’s Valley”. - -The Tom Motz tract is no more, the Wilkenblech, the Bowers and the Meyer -groves are all but annihilated. Where will the spirits rest when the -last original white pine has been ripped into boards at The Forks, now -called Coburn? No wonder that Artist Shearer exclaimed, “The world is -aesthetically deal!” - -The Indians were greatly dismayed at the incursion of white men into -their mountain fastnesses, so contrary to prophecy and solemn treaties, -and no power seemed to stem them as they swept like a plague from valley -to valley, mountain to mountain. The combined military strategy and -bravery of Lenni-Lenape, Seneca, Cayuga, Tuscarora and Shawnee failed -before their all-conquering advance. How to turn back this white peril -occupied the mind and heart of every Indian brave and soothsayer. - -One evening just as Venus in the east was shedding her tranquil glory -over the black outline of the pine covered ranges of the Nittanies, a -mighty council of warriors and wise men, grave and reverent, assembled -under the Grandfather Pine. Hitherto victory, while it had rested with -the white invaders, had not been conclusive; there was still hope, and -the Indians meant to battle to the end. - -It was during this epochal conclave that a message was breathed out of -the dark shaggy pigeon-haunted tops of the mighty tree. Interpreted it -meant that the Indian braves and wise men were reminded that this great -pine reached from heaven to earth, and by its means their ancestors used -to climb up and down between the two regions. In a time of doubt and -anxiety like this, the multitudes, conferring beneath the tree, were -invited to ascend to hold a council with the stars, to exchange views -and receive advice as to how the insidious white invader could be kept -in proper bounds, and to preserve the glory and historic dignity of the -Indian races. The stars, which were the spirits of undefeated warriors -and hunters and huntresses of exceptional prowess–their light was the -shimmer of their silvery targets–had always been the allies of the red -men. - -In solemn procession the pick of the assemblage of Indian warriors and -wise men ascended the mighty tree, up, up, up, until their forms became -as tiny specks, and disappeared in the dark lace-like branches which -merged with the swart hues of the evening heavens. They set no time for -their return, for they were going from the finite to the infinite, but -they would be back to their beloved hills and valleys in plenty of time, -and with added courage and skill, to end the regime of the pale faced -foes. - -Every wife and mother and sweetheart of a warrior who took this journey -was overjoyed at the privilege accorded her loved one, and none -begrudged being left behind to face the enemy under impaired leadership, -or the risk of massacre, as in due course of time the elite would return -from above and rescue them from their cruel tormentors. - -Evidently out of space, out of time, was almost the equivalent of “out -of sight, out of mind” for all who had witnessed the chosen band of -warriors and warlocks ascend the pine, even the tiny babes, reached -maturity and passed away, and yet they had not returned or sent a -message. The year that the stars fell, in 1833, brought hopes to the -anxious ones, but never a falling star was found to bring tidings from -that bourne above the clouds. - -Generation after generation came and went, and the ablest leaders still -were absent counseling with the stars. Evidently there was much to -learn, much to overcome, before they were fully fledged to return and -battle successfully. - -The succeeding generations of Indian braves fought the white foes as -best they could, yet were ever being pushed back, and they were long -since banished from Sugar Valley where grew the Grandfather Pine. -Occasionally those gifted with historic lore and prophecy journeyed to -the remote valley to view the pine, but there were no signs of a return -of the absent Chieftains. - -It was a long and weary wait. Were they really forsaken, or were there -affairs of great emergency in the realm of the evening star that made -them tarry so long? They might be surprised on their return to find -their hunting territories the farms of the white men, their descendants -banished to arid reservations on La Belle Riviere and beyond. They had -left in the twilight; they would find the Indians’ Twilight everywhere -over the face of the earth. It was a sad prospect, but they never gave -up their secret hope that the visitors to strange lands would return, -and lead a forlorn hope to victory. - -Then came upon the scene the great lumberman, Ario Pardee. The bed of -White Deer Creek was “brushed out” from Schreader Spring to Hightown, to -float the millions of logs that would pile up wealth and fame for this -modern Croesus. What was one tree, more or less–none were sacred, and -instead of being the abode of spirits, each held the almighty dollar in -its heart. - -Pardee himself was a man of dreams and an idealist, _vide_ Lafayette -College, and the portrait of his refined and spiritual face by Eastman -Johnson, in the rotunda of “Old Pardee”. Yet it was too early a day to -care for trees, or to select those to be cut, those to be spared; the -biggest tree, or the tree where the buffaloes rubbed themselves, were -alike before the axe and cross-cut; all must fall, and the -piratical-looking Blackbeard Courtney was the agent to do it. - -Perhaps trees take their revenge, like in the case of the Vicar’s Oak in -Surrey, as related by the diarest Evelyn–shortly after it was felled one -of the choppers lost an eye and the other broke a leg. Mike Courtney, it -is reported, ended his days, not in opulent ease lolling in a barouche -in Fairmount Park with Hon. Levi Mackey, as had been his wont, but by -driving an ox-team in the wilds of West Virginia! - -The Grandfather Pine was brought to earth after two days of chopping by -an experienced crew of woodsmen; when it fell they say the window lights -rattled clear across the valley in Logansville (now Loganton). It lay -there prone, abject, yet “terrible still in death”, majestic as it -sprawled in the bed that had been prepared for it, with an open swath of -forest about that it had maimed and pulled down in its fall. - -Crowds flocked from all over the adjacent valleys to see the fallen -monarch, like Arabs viewing the lifeless carcass of a mighty lion whose -roar had filled them with terror but a little while before. - -Then came the misfortune that the tree was found to be commercially -unprofitable to handle, and it was left for the mould and the moss and -the shelf-fungi to devour, for little hemlocks to sprout upon. - -Billy Dowdy was in the West Branch Valley trying to rediscover the Bald -Eagle Silver Mine–old Uriah Fisher, of the Seventh Cavalry, can tell you -all about it–when the story was told at “Uncle Dave” Cochran’s hotel at -Pine Station that Mike Courtney had conquered the Grandfather Pine. It -is said that a glass of the best Reish whiskey fell from his nerveless -fingers when he heard the news. He suddenly lost all interest in the -silver mine on the Bald Eagle Mountain, which caused him to be roundly -berated by his employers, and dropping everything, he made for Sugar -Valley to verify the terrible story. ’Squire Mark assured him that it -was only too true; he had strolled over to Chadwick’s Gap the previous -Sunday and saw the prostrate Titan with his own eyes. - -The Indians’ twilight had come, for now the picked band of warriors and -warlocks must forever linger in the star-belt, unless the earth spirit, -out of his great love, again heaved such a tree from his inmost creative -consciousness. - -[Illustration: A FENCE OF WHITE PINE STUMPS, ALLEGHENIES] - -Sometimes the Indians notice an untoward bright twinkling of the stars, -the evening star in particular, and they fancy it to be reassuring -messages from their marooned leaders not to give up the faith, that -sometimes they can return rich in wisdom, fortified in courage, ready to -drive the white men into the sea, and over it to the far Summer Islands. -When the stars fell on the thirteenth of November, 1833, it was thought -that the starry hosts were coming down en masse to fight their battles, -but not a single steller ally ever reported for duty. - -Old John Engle, mighty Nimrod of Brungard’s Church (Sugar Valley), on -the nights of the Northern Lights, or as the Indians called them, “The -Dancing Ghosts”, used to hear a strange, weird, unaccountable ringing -echo, like exultant shouting, over in the region of the horizon, beyond -the northernmost Allegheny ridges. He would climb the “summer” mountain -all alone, and sit on the highest summits, thinking that the wolves had -come back, for he wanted to hear them plainer. In the Winter of 1859 the -distant acclamation continued for four successive nights, and the Aurora -covered the entire vault of heaven with a preternatural brilliance. -Great bars of intensely bright light shot out from the northern horizon -and broke in mid-sky, and filled the southern skies with their -incandescence. The sky was so intensely red that it flared as one great -sheet of fire, and engulfed the night with an awful and dismal red -light. Reflected on the snow, it gave the earth the appearance of being -clothed in scarlet. - -The superstitious Indians, huddled, cold and half-clad, and half-starved -in the desert reservations, when they saw the fearful glow over beyond -Lake Erie, and heard the distant cadences, declared that they were the -signal fires and the cries for vengeance of the Indian braves imprisoned -up there in star-land, calling defiance to the white hosts, and -inspiration to their own depleted legions, the echo of the day of -reckoning, when the red men would come to their own again, and finding -their lost people, lead them to a new light, out of the Indians’ -twilight. - -[Illustration] - - XI - _Hugh Gibson’s Captivity_ - - -After the brutal massacre, by the Indians, of the Woolcomber family, -came fresh rumors of fresh atrocities in contemplation, consequently it -was considered advisable to gather the women and children of the -surrounding country within the stockade of Fort Robinson, under a strong -guard, while the bulk of the able-bodied men went out in companies to -reap the harvest. Some of the harvesters were on guard part of the time, -consequently all the men of the frontier community performed a share of -the guard duty. - -Among the most energetic of the guardsmen was young Hugh Gibson, son of -the Widow Gibson, a name that has later figured prominently in the -public eye in the person of the Secretary of the American Legion at -Brussels, who endured a trying experience during the period of the -over-running of the Belgian Paris by the hordes of blood-thirsty Huns, -as rapacious and merciless as the red men of Colonial Pennsylvania. - -Hugh Gibson, of Colonial Pennsylvania, was under twenty, slim and dark, -and very anxious to make a good record as guardian of so many precious -lives. As days wore on, and no Indian attacks were made, and no fresh -atrocities committed by the blood-loving monster, Cooties, the terror of -the lower Juniata Valley, even the punctilious Gibson relaxed a trifle -in the rigidity of his guardianship. - -It was near the end of the harvest when the majority of the men -announced that they would remain away over night at a large clearing on -Buffalo Creek, as it would be difficult to reach the fort by nightfall -and be back at work by daybreak the next morning. Hugh Gibson was made -captain of the guard and placed in charge of the safety of the stockade -full of refugees. - -All went well with Gibson and his fellow pickets until about midnight, -when the Indians launched a gas attack. The wind being propitious, they -built a fire, into which they stirred a large number of oak balls, and -the fumes suddenly engulfing the garrison, all became very drowsy, with -the result that the nimble redskins rushed in on the defenders, who were -gaping about, thinking that there must be a forest fire somewhere, but -too dazed and semi-conscious to think very succinctly about anything. - -When the guards saw that it was red men, and not red fire, they roused -themselves as best they could, and fought bravely to save the fort and -its inmates. By throwing firebrands into the stockade, the women and -children, and cattle, were stampeded, and by a common impulse burst open -the gates, and dashed past the defenders, headed for the creek, to -escape the threatened conflagrations. Then the Indians closed in, and in -the darkness, amid the crackling of the fire–for a forest fire was now -in progress, and part of the stockade wall was blazing, amid war whoops -and shrieks of hatred and agony, the barking of dogs, the bellowing of -cattle running amuck, rifle shots, the crack of tomahawks on defenseless -skulls, the midnight air resounded with uncouth and horrible medley. - -The fight continued all night long, until the approach of dawn, and the -danger of the forest fire cutting them off made the Indians decamp. They -did not stop until in the big beaver meadow at Wildcat Valley, they -paused long enough to take stock of prisoners, and to count wounded and -missing. They had captured an even dozen prisoners, and as the light -grew stronger they noticed that they had one male captive, his face -almost unrecognizable with soot, and mostly stripped of clothing, who -proved to be none other than the zealous Hugh Gibson himself. - -It was a strange company that moved in single file towards the -Alleghenies, eleven women and one man, all tied together with leather -thongs, like a party of Alpinists, one after another, not descending a -monarch of mountains, but descending into captivity, into the valley of -the shadow. The Indians were jubilant over the personnel of their -captives. In addition to Hugh Gibson, late captain of the guard, they -had taken Elsbeth Henry, daughter of the most influential of the -settlers, a girl of rare beauty and charm, who had enjoyed some -educational advantages among the Moravians at Nazareth, the pioneers of -women’s education in America. - -Gibson had for a year past, ever since he first appeared in the vicinity -of Fort Robinson, admired the uncommonly attractive girl, and being -ambitions in many ways, aspired to her hand. She had never treated him -with much consideration, except to be polite to him, but she was that to -everyone, and could not be otherwise, being a happy blend of Huguenot -and Bohemian ancestry. - -The minute that Gibson saw that Elsbeth was his fellow prisoner he -forgot the chagrin at being the sole male captive, and congratulated -himself in secret on the good fortune that would make him, for a year or -more, the daily companion of the object of his admiration. He would -redeem the humiliation of this capture by staging a sensational double -escape, and then, after freeing the maiden, she could not fail to love -him and agree to become his wife. He was, therefore, the most cheerful -of prisoners, and whistled and sang Irish songs as he marched along at -the tail end of the long line of captives. - -It seemed as if they were being taken on a long journey, and he surmised -that the destination was Fort Duquesne, to be delivered over to the -French, where rewards would be paid for each as hostages. He could see -by the deference paid to Elsbeth Henry that the redmen recognized that -they had a prisoner of quality, and as she walked along, away ahead of -him, whenever there was a turn in the path, he would note her youthful -beauty and charm. - -She was not very tall, but was gracefully and firmly built. Her most -noticeable features were the intense blackness of her soft wavy hair, -and the whiteness of her skin, with minute blue veins showing, gave her -complexion a blue whiteness, the color of mother of pearl almost, and -Gibson, being a somewhat poetical Ulster Scot, compared her to an -evening sky, with her red lips, like a streak of flame, across the -mother of pearl firmament, her downcast eyes, like twin stars just -appearing! - -The further on the party marched the harder it was going to be to -successfully bring her back in safety to the Juniata country, through a -hostile Indian territory, for he had not the slightest doubt that he -would outwit the clumsy-witted redmen and escape with her. It might be -best to strike north or northwest, out of the seat of hostilities, and -make a home for his bride-to-be in the wilderness along Lake Erie, and -never take her back to her parents. But then there was his mother; how -could he desert her? He must go back with Elsbeth, run all risks, once -he had escaped and freed her from her inconsiderate captors. - -After a few days he learned that the permanent camp was to be on the -Pucketa, in what is now Westmoreland County. Cooties was located there, -and since his unparalleled success in massacring whole families of -whites, he was apparently again in favor with the Indian tribal -Chieftains. He was to take charge of the prisoners, and when ready, -would lead them to Fort Duquesne, or possibly to some point further up -La Belle Riviere, to turn them over to the French, who would hold them -as hostages. - -It was in the late afternoon when the party filed into Cooties’ -encampment, at the Blue Spring, near the headwaters of the beautiful -Pucketa. Cooties had been apprised of their coming, and had painted his -face for the occasion, but meanwhile had consumed a lot of rum, and was -beastly drunk, so much so that in his efforts to drive the punkis off -his face, which seemed to have a predilection for the grease paint, he -smeared the moons and stars into an unrecognizable smudge all over his -saturnine countenance. - -As he sat there on a huge dark buffalo robe, a rifle lying before him, a -skull filled with smoking tobacco on one side, and a leather jug of rum -on the other, smoking a long pipe, his head bobbing unsteadily on its -short neck, he made a picture never to be forgotten. The slayer of the -Sheridan family was at best an ugly specimen of the Indian race. He was -short, squat–Gibson described him as “sawed off”; his complexion was -very dark, his lips small and thin, his nose was broad and flat, his -eyes full and blood-shot, and his shaven head was covered with a red -cap, almost like a Turk’s fez. - -He was too intoxicated to indicate his pleasure, if he felt any, at the -arrival of the prisoners. In front of where he sat were the embers of a -campfire, as the weather–it was early in March–was still very cold. He -had the prisoners lined up in front of him beyond the coals, while he -squatted on his rug, eyeing them as carefully as his bleared, inebriated -vision would permit. Calling to several of his henchmen, he had them -fetch fresh wood and pile it beside the embers, as if a big bonfire was -to be started later. - -Just as they were in the midst of bringing the wood, a group of six -stalwart Indians rushed on the scene, literally dragging a rather -good-looking, dark-haired white woman of about thirty years, whose face -showed every sign of intense terror. From words that he could -understand, and the gestures, Gibson made out that this woman had -belonged to another batch of prisoners, but before she could be -delivered at Shannopin’s Town had somehow made her escape. - -To deliver a body of prisoners short one of the quota had brought some -criticism on Cooties, and he was in an ugly frame of mind when she was -brought before him. There was an ash pole near the wood pile, to which -prisoners were tied while being interrogated, and Cooties ordered that -the unfortunate woman should be strapped to it. The Indian warriors, -needless to say, made a thorough job and bound her to it securely, hand -and foot. - -Though she saw twelve or more white persons, the bound woman never said -a word, and the captives from Fort Robinson and other places were too -terror-stricken to address a word to her. They stared at her with that -look of dumb helplessness that a flock of sheep assume when peering -through the bars of their fold at a farmer in the act of butchering one -of their number. Sympathy they may have felt, but to express it in words -would have availed nothing. - -Once tied to the tree, Cooties ordered that the wood be piled about her -feet. It was ranked until it came almost to her waist. Then the cruel -warrior turned to his victim, saying to her in German, “It’s going to be -a cold night; I think you can warm me up very nicely.” - -Then he grinned and looked at each of his other prisoners menacingly. -Silas Wright in his excellent “History of Perry County” thus quotes Hugh -Gibson in describing the scene then enacted: “All the prisoners in the -neighborhood were collected to be spectators of the death by torture of -a poor, unhappy woman, a fellow-prisoner who had escaped, and been -recaptured. They stripped her naked, tied her to a post and pierced her -with red hot irons, the flesh sticking to the irons at every touch. She -screamed in the most pitiful manner, and cried for mercy, but the -ruthless barbarians were deaf to her agonizing shrieks and prayers, and -continued their horrid cruelty until death came to her relief.” - -After this fiendish episode, the Fort Robinson prisoners were sick at -heart and in body for days, and most of them would have dropped in their -tracks if they had been compelled to resume the long, tedious western -journey. - -It appeared that in the foray on Fort Robinson one young Indian had been -slain; rumor among the Indians had it that he had been shot by mistake -by a member of his own party. At any rate his parents, who lived near -Cooties’ camp-ground, took his end very hard, and the squaw, who was -Cooties’ sister, demanded the adoption of Hugh Gibson to take the place -of her lost warrior son. This was a good point for Gibson, although the -warrior’s father, Busqueetam, acted very coldly towards him, and he -feared he might some day, in a fit of revenge and hate, take his life. -However, the young white man, by making every effort to help his Indian -foster parents, who were very feeble and unable to work, won their -confidence, and also that of Cooties, who requisitioned him to do all -sorts of errands and work about the encampment. - -One day Busqueetam was in a terrible state of excitement. His spotted -pony, the only equine in the camp, and the one that he expected to give -to Cooties to ride with chiefly dignity through the portals of the Fort -had strayed off in the night. - -Most of the Fort Robinson and other prisoners who had been brought in -from various directions since their arrival, to make a great caravan of -captives to impress the commanders at Shannopin’s Town, like a Roman -triumph, were allowed their liberty during the daytime. At night they -were all tied together as they lay about the campfire, not far from the -charred stump of the ash pole where the poor white woman had been burned -to death, and where the small Indian dogs were constantly sniffing. -There were about twenty-five prisoners, all told, and with these were -tied about half a dozen guards, and all lay down in a circle about the -fire, guards and prisoners sleeping at the same time. It was a different -system from that of the whites, for if a prisoner got uneasy or tried to -get up, he or she would naturally pull on the leather thongs, and rouse -the guardians and other prisoners. The thongs were around both wrists, -so a prisoner was tied to the person on either side. - -Hugh Gibson managed to have a few words with Elsbeth, when he heard of -the horse’s disappearance. Much as he would like to have talked to her, -few words passed between them during the captivity. Elsbeth was -naturally reserved, and had never known Hugh well before, and he was -playing for big stakes, and saw how the Indians resented any hobnobbing -among their prisoners. He managed to whisper to her that he would -volunteer to hunt for Busqueetam’s missing pony, but would return at -night and wait for her in the Panther Glade, a dense Rhododendron -thicket through which they had passed on their way to the campground; -that she should gnaw herself free with her teeth, and that done, with -her natural agility and moccasined feet, could nimbly spring away into -the darkness and escape to him. He thought he knew where the pony was -hiding, and she could ride on the animal to civilization. And now let -Gibson tell the adventure in his own words: - -“At last a favorable opportunity to gain my liberty. Busqueetam lost a -horse and sent me to hunt him. After hunting some time, I came home and -told him I had discovered his tracks at some considerable distance, and -that I thought I would find him; that I would take my gun and provisions -and would hunt him for three or four days, and if I could kill a deer or -a bear, I would pack home the meat on the horse.” - -Hugh Gibson, the privileged captive, strolled out of camp with a -business-like expression on his lean face, and carrying Cooties’ -favorite rifle. He took a long circle about through the deep forest, and -at dark was ensconced in the Panther Glade, to wait the fateful moment -when Elsbeth, his beloved, would come to him, and as his promised wife, -he would lead her to liberty. - -It was a cold night, and his teeth chattered as he squatted among the -rhododendrons waiting and listening. The wolves were howling, and he -wondered if the girl would feel afraid! - -At the usual time the various prisoners and their guards were lashed -together, and lay down for their rest around the embers of the campfire. -Most of them were short of coverings, so they huddled close together. -Not so Elsbeth, for Cooties looked after her and provided her with four -buffalo robes, which she would have loved dearly to share with her less -favored fellow prisoners, but they would not allow it. The Indians made -the captives work hard during the day cutting wood, dressing furs and -pounding corn. They did not feed them any too well, as game was scarce -and ammunition scarcer, so all were tired when they lay down by the -campfire’s soothing glow. - -One by one they fell asleep, all but Elsbeth, who, covering her head -with the buffalo robes, began to gnaw on the leather thongs as if they -were that much caramel, first this side, then the other. She felt like a -rodent before she was half through, and her pretty pearl-colored teeth -grew shorter and blunter before she was done. It was a gigantic task, -but she stuck to it bravely, and some time during the “wee, sma’” hours -had the delicious sensation of knowing she was free, even though she -felt horridly toothless and sore-gummed in her moment of victory. - -Like a wild cat she slipped out from under the buffalo robes, wiggled -along among the wet leaves and moss, then crawled to her feet and was -off like a deer towards the Panther Glade, regardless of the howling of -the wolves. Hugh Gibson’s quick sense of hearing told him she was -coming, and he walked out so that he stood on the path before her, and -clasped her white shapely arms in heartfelt congratulations. - -“Now that we are free,” he said, “I will take you to the pony in three -hours’ travel. I want to arrange the one final detail to make this -reunion always memorable for us both. We have shared common hardships -and perils; we have plotted and planned for freedom together. Let us -guarantee that our lives shall always be together, for I love you, and -want you to be my wife.” - -Elsbeth drew herself back out of his grasp, and a shudder went through -her supple little frame. “Why I have never heard the like of what you -say, much as I have appreciated all you have done; ours was only a -common misfortune. I could not care for you that way, even though -recognizing your bravery, your foresight and your kindliness.” - -For a moment Hugh Gibson was so angry that he felt like leading her back -to Cooties, where she would probably have been received with open arms, -and be burned at the stake, but he finally “possessed his soul” and -accepted the inevitable. - -They found the pony by morning, but it took some maneuvering to capture -the wily beast, and packed him across the Kittanning Path, where, at -Burgoon’s Run, they came upon a party of traders headed by George -McCord, who had lately come from the Juniata. - -McCord told them the details of the conflict at Fort Robinson, of the -shocking killing of Widow Gibson, Robert Miller’s daughter, James -Wilson’s wife, John Summerson, and others, on that bloody night of gas, -forest fires, smoke and surprises. - -It was the turning point in Hugh Gibson’s life; his mother gone, and not -a sign of weakening in Elsbeth Henry’s mother-of-pearl countenance; in -fact, the indistinct line of her mouth was more like a streak of crimson -flame than ever. A new light had dawned for him out of these shocking -misfortunes; his purpose would be to redeem his inactivity at Fort -Robinson, his overconfidence, his over self-esteem, by going at once to -Carlisle to secure a commission in the Royal American Regiment of -Riflemen. He left Elsbeth in charge of the McCord party who would see -her back to her distracted parents, while he tramped over the mountains -towards Reastown and Fort Littleton, by the shortest route to the -Cumberland Valley. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration: BILL BREWER, “HICK” PREACHER] - - XII - _Girty’s Notch_ - - -The career of Simon Girty, otherwise spelled Girtee and Gerdes, has -become of sufficient interest to cause the only authoritative biography -to sell at a prohibitive figure, and outlaw or renegade as he is called, -there are postoffices, hotels, streams, caves and rocks which perpetuate -his name throughout Pennsylvania. - -Simon Gerdes was born in the Cumberland Valley on Yellow Breeches Creek, -the son of a Swiss-German father and an Irish mother. This origin -guaranteed him no high social position, for in the old days, in the -Cumberland Valley, in particular, persons of those racial beginnings -were never accepted at par by the proud descendants of Quakers, Virginia -Cavaliers, and above all, by the Ulster Scots. After the world war -similar beginnings have correspondingly lowered in the markets of -prestige, and a century or more of gradual family aggrandizement has -gone for nil, the social stratification of pre-Revolutionary days having -completely re-established itself. - -Unfortunately for Simon Gerdes, or Girty, as he was generally called, he -was possessed of lofty ambitions, he aimed to be a military hero and a -man of quality, like the dignified and exclusive gentry who rode about -the valley on their long-tailed white horses and carried swords, and -were accompanied by retainers with long rifles. There must have been -decent blood in him somewhere to have brought forth such aspirations, -but personally he was never fitted to attain them. He had no chance for -an education off there in the rude foothills of the Kittochtinnies; he -was undersized, swarthy and bushy headed; his hands were hairy, and his -face almost impossible to keep free of black beard. Analyzed his -features were not unpleasant; he had deepset, piercing black eyes, a -prominent aquiline nose, a firm mouth and jaw, and his manner was quick, -alert and decisive. - -Such was Simon Girty when his martial dreams caused him to leave home -and proceed to Virginia to enlist in the Rifle Regiment. A half century -of Quaker rule in Pennsylvania had failed to disturb the tranquility of -the relations between whites and Indians, but in the Old Dominion, there -was a constant bickering with the redskins along the western frontier. - -As Girty was a sure shot, he was eagerly accepted, and in a short time -was raised to the grade of Corporal. Accompanied by a young -Captain-lieutenant named Claypoole, he was sent to the Greenbrier River -country to convey a supply train, but owing to the indifference of the -officer, the train became strung out, and the vanguard was cut off by -Indians, and captured, and the rearguard completely routed. - -As Girty happened to be the vidette, the Captain-lieutenant, who was in -the rear and should have come up and seen that his train traveled more -compactly, had a splendid opportunity to shift the blame. An -investigation was held at Spottsylvania, presided over by a board of -officers recently arrived from England, who knew nothing of border -warfare, and were sticklers for caste above everything else. - -Someone had to be disciplined, and if a fellow could be punished and a -gentleman exculpated, why then of course, punish the fellow. This was -speedily done, and Girty was taken out before the regiment, stripped of -his chevrons, denounced by the Colonel, forced to run the gauntlet, -Indian style, and drummed out of camp. - -Girty, though humiliated and shamed, felt glad that he was not shot; he -would have been had he been actually guilty of neglect; he was punished -as badly as an innocent man dare be punished to shield a guilty -superior. After receiving his dishonorable discharge, Girty sorrowfully -wended his way back to the parental home on the Yellow Breeches, his -visions of glory shattered. He did not tell his parents what had -happened, but they knew that something had gone wrong, and pitied him, -as only poor, lowly people can pity another. - -Henry Fielding, a gentleman born and bred, has said: “Why is it that the -only really kindly people are the poor,” and again, “Why is it that -persons in high places are always so hard?” - -About this time Simon Girty found work breaking colts on the estate of -an eccentric character named Gaspar, known in the Cumberland Valley as -“French Louis,” who resided near the mouth of Dublin Gap, on the same -side of the trail, but nearer the valley than the present Sulphur -Springs Hotel. All that remains of his ambitious chateau is the chimney, -which was recently photographed by Professor J. S. Illick, head of the -research bureau of the State Department of Forestry. - -“French Louis” Gaspar was a Huguenot, a Gascon, and prided himself on a -resemblance to Henry of Navarre, and wore the same kind of fan-shaped, -carefully brushed beard. His wife was also of French origin, a member of -the well-known Le Tort family, and a woman of some education and -character. They had several daughters, all of whom married well, and at -the time of Girty’s taking employment, but one was at home–the -youngest–Eulalie. - -She was a slim, dark girl, with hair and eyes as black as Girty’s, a -perfect mate in type and disposition. It is a curious thing while -unravelling these stories of old time Pennsylvania, that in seeking -descriptions of the personal appearance (which is always the most -interesting part) of the persons figuring in them at an early day, -scarcely any blondes are recorded; the black, swarthy Indian-like -visages so noticeable to strangers traveling through Pennsylvania today, -were also prevalent, commonly met with types of our Colonial period. - -Eulalie Gaspar could see that there was something on Girty’s mind, and -tried to be kind to him and encourage him, but she asked no questions, -and he volunteered no information. If he had not received such a -complete social setback at Spottsylvania, the youth might have aspired -to the girl’s hand, but he now was keenly aware of the planes of caste, -realizing that he stood very low on the ladder of quality. - -He seemed to be improving in spirits under the warm sun of encouragement -at Chateau Gaspar, as “French Louis” liked to call his huge house of -logs and stone, for the Huguenot adventurer was much of a Don Quixote, -and lived largely in a world of his own creation. Eulalie, hot-blooded -and impulsive, often praised his prowess as a horseman, and otherwise -smiled on him. - -There was a great sale of Virginia bred horses being held in the market -place at Carlisle, and, of course, “French Louis” mounted on a superbly -caparisoned, ambling horse, and wearing a hat with a plume, and attended -by Simon Girty, were among those present. - -The animals ranged from packers and palfreys to fancy saddlers of the -high school type, and although Gaspar had every stall full at home, and -some wandering, hobbled about the old fields, he bought six more at -fancy prices, and it would be an extensive task to return them safely to -the stables at the “Chateau”. - -It was near the close of the sale when a young Virginian named Conrad -Gist or Geist, one of the sellers of horses, who had been a sergeant in -Girty’s regiment, and witnessed his degradation at Spottsylvania, came -up, and in the presence of the crowd, taunted young Simon on being -court-martialed and kicked out of camp. - -Girty, though the humiliating words were said among divers of his -friends, bit his lips and said nothing at the time. Later in the tap -room, when “French Louis” was having a final jorum before starting -homeward, the Virginian repeated his taunts, and Girty, though half his -size, slapped his face. Gist quickly drew a horse pistol from one of the -deep pockets of his long riding coat, and tried to shoot the affronted -youth. Girty was too quick for him, and in wresting the pistol from his -hand, it went off, and shot the Virginian through the stomach. He fell -to the sanded floor, and was soon dead. - -Other Virginians present raised an outcry, in which they were upheld by -those of similar social status in the fraternity of “gentlemen horse -dealers” residing at Carlisle. Threats were made to hang Girty to a tree -and fill him full of bullets. He felt that he was lucky to escape in the -melee, and make for the mountains. Public opinion was against him, and a -reward placed on his head. Armed posses searched for him for weeks, -eventually learning that he was being harbored by a band of escaped -redemptioners, slaves, and gaol breakers, who had a cabin or shack in -the wilds along Shireman’s Creek. It was vacated when the pursuers -reached it, but they burnt it to the ground, as well as every other roof -in the wilds that it could be proved he had ever slept under. - -By 1750 he became known as the most notorious outlaw in the Juniata -country, and pursuit becoming too “hot”, he decided to migrate west, -which he did, allying himself with the Wyandot Indians. He lived with -them a foe to the whites, more cruel and relentless, the Colonial -Records state, than his adopted people. - -Some of his marauding expeditions took him back to the Susquehanna -country, and he made several daring visits to his parents, on one of -which he learned to his horror and disgust, that Eulalie Gaspar, while -staying with one of her married sisters at Carlisle, had met and married -the now Captain Claypoole, the author of his degradation, who had come -there in connection with the mustering of Colonial troops. - -During these visits Girty occupied at times a cave facing the -Susquehanna River, in the Half Fall Hills, directly opposite to Fort -Halifax, which he could watch from the top of the mountain. The narrow, -deep channel of the river, at the end of the Half Fall Hills, so long -the terror of the “up river” raftsmen, became known as Girty’s Notch. -The sinister reputation of the locality was borne out in later years in -a resort for rivermen called Girty’s Notch Hotel, now a pleasant, -homelike retreat for tired and thirsty autoists who draw birch beer -through straws, and gaze at the impressive scenery of river and mountain -from the cool, breezeswept verandas. - -But the most imposing of all is the stone face on the mountain side, -looking down on the state road and the river, which shows clearly the -rugged outlines of the features of the notorious borderer. An excellent -photograph of “Girty’s Face” can be seen in the collection of -stereoscoptic views possessed by the genial “Charley Mitchell” -proprietor of the Owens House, formerly the old Susquehanna House, at -Liverpool. - -It was after General Braddock’s defeat in 1755 that Captain, now Major -Claypoole, decided to settle on one of his parental estates on the -Redstone River, (now Fayette County) in Western Pennsylvania. Being -newly wedded and immensely wealthy for his day, he caused to be erected -a manor house of the showy native red stone, elaborately stuccoed, on a -bluff overlooking this picturesque winding river. He cleared much land, -being aided by Negro slaves, and a horde of German redemptioners. - -When General Forbes’ campaign against Fort Duquesne was announced in -1757, he decided to again try for actual military laurels, though his -promotion in rank had been rapid for one of his desultory service; so he -journeyed to Carlisle, and was reassigned to the Virginia Riflemen, with -the rank of Lieutenant Colonel of Staff. - -He was undecided what to do with his young wife in his absences, but as -she had become interested in improving “Red Clay Hall,” as the new -estate was called, he decided to leave her there, well guarded by his -armed Virginia overseers. The Indians had been cleared out of the valley -for several years, and were even looked upon as curiosities when they -passed through the country, consequently all seemed safe on that score. - -However, while Lieutenant-Colonel Claypoole was at Carlisle, before the -Forbes-Bouquet Army had started westward, an Indian with face blackened -and painted, in the full regalia of a chief, appeared at the door of -“Red Clay Hall” and asked to see the lady of the manor, with whom he -said he was acquainted–that she would know him by the name of Suckaweek. - -This was considered peculiar, and he was told to wait outside, until -“her ladyship” could be informed of his presence. Eulalie Gaspar -Claypoole, clad in a gown of rose brocade, was in her living room on the -second story of the mansion, an apartment with high ceilings and large -windows, which commanded a view of the Red Stone Valley, clear to its -point of confluence with the lordly Monongahela. She was seated at an -inlaid rosewood desk, writing a letter to her husband, when the German -chief steward entered to inform her of the strange visitor waiting on -the lawn, whom she would know by the name of Suckaweek. - -Taking the quill pen from her lips, for she had been trying to think of -something to write, the dark beauty directed the steward to admit the -visitor at once, and show him into the library. Hurrying to a pier -glass, she adjusted her elaborate apparel, and taking a rose from a -vase, placed it carefully in her sable hair, before she descended the -winding stairway. - -“Suckaweek” (Black Fish), which was a pet name she used to call Girty in -the old days, was waiting in the great hall, and the greeting between -the ill-assorted pair seemed dignified, yet cordial. They spent the -balance of the afternoon between the library and strolling over the -grounds, admiring the extensive views, dined together in the state -dining room, and the last the stewards and servants saw of them, when -informed their presence would be no longer required, was the pair -sitting in easy chairs on either side of the great fireplace, both -smoking long pipes of fragrant Virginia tobacco. - -In the morning the Indian and Madame Claypoole were missing, and an -express was sent at once to Carlisle to acquaint the Colonel with this -daring abduction of a lady of quality. The news came as a great shock to -the young officer, who obtained a leave of absence and a platoon of -riflemen to engage in the search for his vanished spouse. - -The marriage had seemed a happy one, but in discussing the case with his -father-in-law, “French Louis,” indiscreetly admitted that his daughter -had once seemed a little sweet on Simon Girty, the outlaw. All was clear -now, the motive revealed. - -It was the truth, the lovely “Lady” Claypoole, as she was styled by the -mountain folks, had gone off with the seemingly uncouth renegade, Simon -Girty. - -Why she had done so, she could never tell, but doubtless it was a spark -of love lain dormant since the old days at Chateau Gaspar, when she had -seen the young outlaw breaking her father’s unmanageable colts, that -furnished the motive for the elopement. - -In the glade, where at an early hour in the morning, Girty and his fair -companion joined his entourage of Indians and white outlaws, Simon, in -the presence of all, unsheathed his formidable hunting knife, a relic of -his first campaign against the Indians when he belonged to the Virginia -“Long Knives,” and cut a notch on the stock of his trusty rifle, which -was handed to him by his favorite bodyguard, a half Jew, half Indian, -named Mamolen, a native of Heidelberg in Berks County. - -Although during the past eight years he had personally killed and -scalped over a hundred Indians and whites, Girty had never, as the other -frontiersmen always did, “nicked” his rifle stock. - -Turning to Lady Claypoole with a smile, he said: “Some day I will tell -you why I have cut this notch; it is a long and curious story.” - -In order to have her safe from capture or molestation, Girty took the -woman on a lengthy and perilous journey to Kentucky, “the dark and -bloody ground.” To the country of the mysterious Green River, in what is -now Edmonson County, land of caves, and sinks, and knobs, and -subterranean lakes and streams, amid hardwood groves and limestone, he -built a substantial log house, where he left her, protected only by the -faithful Mamolen, while he returned to fight with the French and Indians -along the banks of the Ohe-yu, “The Beautiful River.” - -The defeat of the allied forces by the British, and the abandonment of -Fort Duquesne, were sore blows to Simon Girty’s plans and hopes, but his -position and prestige among the Indians remained undimmed. - -Claypoole, though promoted to full Colonel, did not take part in any of -the battles, being intermittently off on leave, hunting for his recreant -wife, and spluttering vengeance against “that snake, that dog, Girty,” -as he alternately called him. It seemed as if the earth had swallowed up -the lovely object of the outlaw’s wiles, for though Girty himself was -heard of everywhere, being linked with the most hideous atrocities and -ambushes, no Indian prisoner, even under the most dreadful torture, -could reveal the Lady Claypoole’s whereabouts. The reason for that was -only two persons in the service knew, one was Mamolen, the other Girty, -and Mamolen remained behind with the fair runaway. - -It was not until after the final collapse of the French power in 1764, -and the western country was becoming opened for settlement, that Colonel -Claypoole received an inkling of Eulalie’s whereabouts. It did not -excite his curiosity to see her again, or bring her back, but merely -fired his determination the more to even his score with Girty. When he -was sober and in the sedate atmosphere of his correctly appointed -library on Grant’s Hill, in the new town of Pittsburg, he realized how -foolish it would be to journey to the wilds to kill “a scum of the -earth,” he a gentleman of many generations of refined ancestry, all for -a “skirt” as he contemptuously alluded to his wife. - -But when in his cups, and that was often, he vowed vengeance against the -despoiler of his home, and the things he planned to do when once he had -him in his clutches would have won the grand prize at a Spanish -Inquisition. - -If it was Girty’s destiny to notch his rifle once, Nemesis provided that -Colonel Claypoole should also have that rare privilege. At a military -muster on the Kentucky side of Big Sandy, during the Revolutionary War, -Simon Girty boldly ventured to the outskirts of the encampment, to spy -on the strength and armament of the patriot forces, as he had done a -hundred times before. Colonel Claypoole, riding on the field on his -showy, jet black charger, noticed a low-brewed face, whiskered like a -Bolshevik, peering out through a clump of bushes. Recognizing him after -a lapse of over a quarter of a century, he rode at him rashly, parrying -with the flat blade of his sabre, the well directed bullet which Girty -sent at him. Springing from his mount, which he turned loose, and which -ran snorting over the field, with pistol in one hand, sabre in the -other, he rushed into the thicket, and engaged his foe in deadly combat. -He was soon on top of the surprised Girty, and stamping on him, like -most persons do with a venomous snake, at the same time shooting and -stabbing him. - -When his frightened orderly, leading the recaptured charger, rode up, -followed by a number of excited officers and men, and drew near to the -thicket, they were just in time to see Colonel Claypoole emerging from -it, red-faced but calm, carrying a long rifle. - -“I see you have put a notch in it already,” said one of his companions, -as he eagerly wrung his hand. - -“So I perceive,” replied the Colonel, “but it was hardly necessary, for -I have only killed a snake.” - -There are some who say that Colonel Claypoole’s victim was not Simon -Girty at all, but merely a drunken settler who was coming out of the -bushes after a mid-day nap, and a coincidence that the fellow was armed -with a rifle on which there was a single nick. Yet for all intents and -purposes Colonel Claypoole had killed a good enough Simon Girty, and had -his rifle to prove it. - -Other reports have it that Simon Girty survived the Revolution, where he -played such a reprehensive part, to marry Catharine Malott, a former -captive among the Indians, in 1784, and was killed in the Battle of the -Thames, in the War of 1812. - -C. W. Butterworth in his biography of the Girty family, says that Simon, -in later life, became totally blind, dying near Amlerstburg, Canada, -February 18, 1818, was buried on his farm, and a troop of British -soldiers from Fort Malden fired a volley at his grave. - - XIII - _Poplar George_ - - -“I have been reading your legends of the old days in the ‘North -American,’” said the delegate to the Grange Convention, stroking his -long silky mustache, “and they remind me of many stories that my mother -used to tell me when I was a little shaver, while we were living on the -Pucketa, in Westmoreland County. There was one story that I used to like -best of all. It was not the one about old Pucketa the Indian warrior for -whom the run was named, but about a less notable Indian, but more -esteemed locally, known as ‘Poplar George.’ - -“It isn’t nearly as interesting an Indian story as the one that Emerson -Collins tells, of the time when his mother, as a little girl on the -Quinneshockeny, went to the spring for a jug of water, finding a lone -Indian sitting there all by himself, looking as if he was in deep -thought. As he made no move to molest her, she filled her jug, and then -scampered back to the house as fast as she could tote the jug there. - -“She was a little shy about telling of her strange experience, but -finally, when she mentioned the subject, her mother said, ‘maybe the -poor fellow was hungry.’ Quickly spreading a ‘piece,’ she hurried back -to the spring, but no Indian was to be found, only a few prints of his -mocassined feet in the soft earth by the water course. If it hadn’t been -for those footprints she would have always felt that she had not seen a -real live Indian, but a ghost. - -“It was the last Indian ever heard of on the Quinneshockeny, and he had -probably come back to revive old memories of his happy childhood. No, -Poplar George was hardly like Emerson Collins’ ‘last Indian,’ as he, my -mother averred, was part Indian, part ghost. He was also the last Indian -that ever visited the Pucketa, which had been a famous stream in its day -for redmen, from the time when old Pucketa, himself, came there to spend -his last days, after having been driven out from his former hunting -grounds at the head of Lost Creek, which runs into the ‘Blue Juniata’ -above Mifflintown. - -“The principal part of this story revolves around two large trees that -used to stand near the Pucketa, one a big tulip or ‘whitewood’ tree, -hollow at the butt, so much so that a half grown person could hide in -it, and a huge water poplar tree, or ‘cottonwood,’ a rare tree in -Pennsylvania, you know, that stood on lower ground directly in line with -it, but on the far side of the creek, which ran parallel with the road. -It wasn’t much of a road in those days, I’m told, isn’t much of one yet, -little better than a cow path, with grass and dandelions growing between -the wagon tracks, and worn foot-path on the creek side of it. Many’s the -time I’ve gone along that path to and from school, or to fetch the cows. - -[Illustration: AGED FLAX-SPINNER AT WORK, SUGAR VALLEY] - -“In my boyhood there were two big stumps which always arrested my -attention, the stumps of the ‘cottonwood’ and the tulip which I have -already mentioned. The native poplar stump, which was chopped breast -high for some reason, had been cut before my day, but the tulip tree had -stood a dead stab for many years, and was not finally cut until my -babyhood. I was too young to recall it, and its stump had been sawed off -almost level with the ground. - -“When my mother was old enough to notice things, say along six, or seven -or eight years of age, both trees was standing, and despite their -venerable age, were thrifty and green; the hollow trunk of the tulip did -not seem to lessen its vitality. Trees in those days, of all kinds, were -pretty common, and regarded as nuisances; the farmers were still having -‘burning bees’ in the spring and fall when all hands would join in and -drag with ox-spans the logs of the trees that had been cut when they -were clearing new ground, and making huge bonfires, burn them like a -modern section foreman does a pile of old railroad ties, and by the way, -the time is going to come soon when tie burners will be as severely -condemned as the instigators of the ‘burning bees’ in the olden days. - -“Trees were too plentiful to attract much attention or create affection -or veneration, but these two trees had a very special human interest. - -“Long after the Indians passed out of our country they came back as -ghosts or ‘familiars,’ just as the wolves, panthers and wild pigeons do, -so that the stories of folks seeing them after they became extinct, -while not literally true, are in a sense correct. Closely associated -with the life of the big cottonwood was an old Indian, mother said; he -wasn’t a real live Indian, yet not a ghost, was probably a half ghost, -half Indian, if there could be any such thing. - -“The tulip tree was inhabited by a very attractive spirit, an Indian -girl, an odd looking one too, for her smooth skin was only a pumpkin -color and her eyes a light blue. They all called her ‘Pale Eyes,’ and -she was described as slight, winsome and wonderfully pretty. The Indian -man, because he spent so much time under the cottonwood or water poplar, -became generally known as ‘Poplar George.’ He would appear in the -neighborhood early in the spring, in time to gather poke, milkweed, -dandelion and bracken for the farmer’s wives, and to teach the young -folks to fish, to use the bow and arrow, and snare wild pigeons and -doves. - -“It was a sure sign of spring when the young people would see him -squatting before a very small fire of twigs under the still leafless -branches of the ancient poplar tree. He would remain about all summer -long, helping with the harvest, so he must have been real flesh and -blood, in a sense, and in the fall he gathered nuts, and later cut some -cordwood for those who favored him–but in truth he never liked hard, -downright work overly much. - -“He was a creature of the forests and streams. When he went away in the -fall, after the wild pigeons had left, he always said that he wintered -south, on the Casselman River, where the weather was not so severe, in -that wonderful realm of the Pawpaw, the Persimmon and the Red Bud. - -“Often when he took the young folks of the neighborhood on fishing -trips, and his skill with the angle and fly were unerring, the pretty -Indian maiden, ‘Pale Eyes,’ would turn up, and be with the party all -day. When asked who she was, he would sometimes say that she was his -daughter, other times his niece, or grand-daughter, but when anyone -asked of ‘Pale Eyes,’ she would shake her pretty head, indicating that -she only spoke the Indian language. Poplar George could speak Dutch and -a little English. - -“No one knew where Poplar George slept, if it wasn’t in the open, under -the cottonwood tree. If he slept in barns, or under haystacks, no one -had ever seen him coming or going, but a detail like that, mattered -nothing as long as he was kindly and harmless, and took good care of the -children. - -“He was a master of woodcraft, much like that old Narragansett Indian -‘Nessmuk,’ who furnished the late George W. Sears with his inspiration -as well as ‘nom de plume.’ Poplar George could call the wild birds off -the trees, so that they would feed on the ground before him, the -squirrels and even the shy chipmunks climbed all over him, and extracted -nuts from his pockets. - -"The old Indian was an odd person to look at, so my mother said; of -medium height, meagre, wrinkled and weazened, tobacco colored, with -little black shoe-button eyes, and a sparse mustache and beard. He -dressed in rags, and was often bare-footed, yet he never complained of -the cold. He was always jolly and cheerful, had always been the same; he -had been coming to the Pucketa Valley for several generations before my -mother’s day; in fact, no one could remember when he hadn’t been there, -but that wasn’t saying much, as it was a new country, dating only from -the time when Pucketa and his tribesmen had enjoyed it as a hunting -ground for big game. - -"Once when some hunters killed a bear, they were going to nail the paws -on the end of a log barn, but Poplar George begged for them, and invited -the children to a feast of ‘bear paw cutlets’ under the cottonwood tree. -My mother sat beside ‘Pale Eyes,’ and took a great fancy to her; she was -able to talk with her in sign language, and Poplar George, seeing how -well they got on together, occasionally interpreted for them. - -"Mother managed to learn that ‘Pale Eyes’’ abode was in a huge hollow -tulip tree, but that she, too, wintered in the south, but beyond the -Maryland line. Those were all gloriously care-free, happy days, and my -mother, in later life, never tired talking about them. - -"Once in the fall when the buckwheat harvest was in progress, millions -of wild pigeons came in, and mother could never forget the sight of old -Poplar George sitting on a ‘stake and rider’ fence, with a handsome cock -pigeon resplendent with its ruddy breast, pearched on one of his wrists, -while it pecked at some buckwheat seeds in his other hand. Beside him -sat the demure ‘Pale Eyes,’ a speckled squab of the year in her lap, -stroking it, while other pigeons, usually so wild, were feeding in the -stubble about them, or perched on the stakes of the fence. - -"Some of the boys of sixteen years or thereabouts, grown lads they -seemed to my mother, wanted to be attentive to ‘Pale Eyes,’ but she was -so shy that she never let them get close to her. As it was a respectable -backwoods community, and all minded their own business, no further -efforts were made to have her mingle in society. - -"There was a rich boy, Herbert Hiltzheimer from Philadelphia, whose -father was a great land owner, and who sometimes came with his parents -to stay with their Agent while inspecting their possessions, who, at -first sight of ‘Pale Eyes,’ fell violently in love with her. On rainy -days he was not allowed out of doors, and sent word to Poplar George -that ‘Pale Eyes’ should go to the Agent’s house, and play with him. Old -Poplar George replied that he was willing if his niece would consent, -but she always ran away into the depths of the forest, and was never -once induced to play with him indoors. She did not dislike the city boy, -only was very timid, and was afraid to go inside of a house. - -"My mother was made a confidante of by Herbert,who offered her five -dollars, a collosal sum in those days, if she would induce ‘Pale Eyes’ -to at least come into the Agent’s yard, and play with him alone. He had -her name cut on everything, even on the window frames, and wrote verses -about her which he carried in his pocket, and sometimes tried to read to -her. - -"In the fall he was taken back to Philadelphia to school, but said that, -the evening before, when he walked up the lane, weeping over his -misfortune, he opportunately met the fair Indian maid alone at the tulip -tree, and actually kissed her. She broke away and ran into the hollow -trunk, and while he quickly followed her into the aperture, she had -disappeared. - -"The lands on which the cottonwood and the tulip tree stood were a part -of a farm belonging to ’Squire George Garnice, an agreeable, but easy -going old gentleman, who never learned to say ‘no’ to any one, though -not much to his detriment for he was very generally respected. - -"One fall some of the Fiedler boys suggested to him, that he let them go -on his property and cut up a lot of old half-dead good-for-nothing trees -for cordwood and of course he assented. The first tree they attacked was -Poplar George’s favorite, the mighty cottonwood. They were skilled -axemen, and cut a level stump but too high for these days of -conservation. Soon the big poplar was down, and the boys were trimming -off the sweeping branches. Before cutting into stove lengths, they -hopped across the creek and started on their next victim, the hollow -tulip tree, the home of ‘Pale Eyes.’ - -"One of the boys, the youngest, Ed, had gotten a new cross-cut saw, and -begged them to try it on the tulip. They notched, and then getting down -on their knees, started to saw a low stump, for some reason or other. -They had sawed in quite a distance on both edges of the hollow side when -they heard a piteous shrieking and wailing down the road, toward the old -’Squire’s barn. - -"Leaving saw, axes and wedges, they ran to where the cries came from, -and to their horror, found ‘Pale Eyes’ lying on the grassy bank beside -the road at the orchard, her ankles terribly lacerated, front and back, -clear in to the bones, and bleeding profusely. On this occasion she was -able to speak in an intelligible tongue. - -“‘Run quick to the ’Squire’s, and get help,’ she said, in Pennsylvania -German; ‘I am dying, but I want something to ease this dreadful pain.’ - -“The sympathetic boys, without waiting to inquire where she received her -grevious hurts, scurried down the road and through the ’Squire’s gate. -The old gentleman was in his library, drawing up a legal document, when -the long, lanky youths, hatless and breathless, burst in on him. - -“‘Oh, sir,’ they chorused, ‘the Indian girl, ‘Pale Eyes,’ you know, has -cut herself, and is dying up the road, and wants help.’ - -"The ’Squire always kept an old-fashioned remedy chest in his desk, so -seizing it, and adjusting his curly wig, so that it would not blow off, -he ran out after the nimble mountaineers. As they left the gate they saw -old Poplar George running across the orchard in the direction of the -wounded girl. Evidently he, too, had heard her cries. - -"When they reached the spot where marks on the greensward showed where -‘Pale Eyes’ had been lying, she was nowhere to be found, neither was -Poplar George. There were no signs of blood, only a lot of sawdust like -comes from the workings of a cross-cut saw. - -"The old ’Squire was nonplussed, but consented to accompany the boys to -the scene of their wood cutting operations. ‘Pale Eyes’ was not there -either, nor Poplar George. The newly formed leaves of the cottonwood–it -was in the month of May–although the tree had only been cut and sawed -into but an hour before, were scorched and withered. - -"The ’Squire showed by his face how heartbroken he was to see the two -picturesque trees so roughly treated, but he was too kindly and -forgiving to chide the boys for their sake. As he was standing there, -looking at the ruin, a number of school children, among them my mother, -came along, for it was during the noon recess, or dinner hour. They saw -the butchered trees, and learned of the events of the morning; several -of them, prosaic backwoods youngsters, though they were, shed bitter -tears. - -“‘Dry your eyes,’ the ‘’Squire urged them, ‘else your people will think -that the teacher licked you.’ Then they all chorused that it was a shame -to have ruined the retreats of Poplar George and ‘Pale Eyes.’ - -“Evidently ’Squire Garnice was wise in the lore of mysticism, for he -shook his head sadly, saying, ‘Never mind, you’ll never see Poplar -George nor ‘Pale Eyes’ again.’ - -“It was a dejected company that parted with him at his gate. The old -’Squire was right, for never more was anything seen or heard of Poplar -George and the mysterious ‘Pale Eyes.’ They must have been in some -unknowable way connected with the lives of those two trees, the -cottonwood and the tulip–their lives or spirits maybe, and when they -were cut into, their spirits went out with them. - -“I knew of a wealthy man who had a cedar tree in his yard, that when he -fell ill, the tree became brown, but retained a little life. Finally it -was cut down as an eyesore, and the gentleman died suddenly a few days -afterward. That tree must have contained a vital part of his spirit. - -“By fall the tulip tree looked as if it had been dead for years, and the -bark was peeling off. As the wood of the poplar would not burn, and set -up a fetid odor, the Fieldler boys never bothered to finish cutting down -the hollow tulip tree, of which the shy wood sprite, ‘Pale Eyes,’ had -been the essence. - -"Much of the mystery and charm of that old grass-grown way along the -gently flowing Pucketa had vanished with its Indian frequenters. But the -memory of Poplar George and ‘Pale Eyes’ will never be forgotten as long -as any of those children who were lucky enough to know them, remain in -this world." - - XIV - _Black Alice Dunbar_ - - -Down in the wilds of the Fourth Gap, latterly used as an artery of -travel between Sugar Valley and White Deer Hole Valley, commonly known -as “White Deer Valley,” a forest ranger’s cabin stands on the site of an -ancient Indian encampment, the only clearing in the now dreary drive -from the “Dutch End” to the famous Stone Church. Until a dozen years ago -much of the primeval forest remained, clumps of huge, original white -pines stood here and there, in the hollows were hemlock and rhododendron -jungles, while in the fall the flickers chased one another among the -gorgeous red foliage of the gum trees. - -Now much is changed; between “Tom” Harter and “Charley” Steele, and -other lumbermen, including some gum tree contractors, little remains but -brush and slash; forest fires have sacrificed the remaining timber, and -only among the rocks, near the mouth of the gap, can be seen a few -original yellow pines, shaggy topped in isolated grandeur. Some day the -tragic Indian history of White Deer Hole Valley will come to its own, -and present one of the most tragic pages in the narrative of the passing -of the red man. - -It was into this isolated valley, that terminates in Black Hole Valley, -and the Susquehanna River, near Montgomery, that numbers of the Monsey -Tribe of the Lenni-Lenape, called by some the Delaware Indians, -retreated after events subsequent to the Walking Purchase, made them -outcasts on the face of the earth. It was not long afterwards that -warlike parties of their cruel Nemesis, the Senecas, appeared on the -scene, informing the Monseys that they had sold the country to the -whites, and if they stayed, it was at their peril. - -Even at that early day white men were not wholly absent; they came in -great numbers after the Senecas had sold the lands of the Lenni-Lenape -to the “Wunnux,” but even coincident with the arrival of the Delawares, -a few white traders and adventurers inhabited the most inaccessible -valleys. - -Alexander Dunbar, a Scotchman, married to a Monsey woman, arrived in -White Deer Hole Valley with the first contingent of his wife’s -tribes-people, settling near the confluence of White Deer Hole Creek and -South Creek. Whether he was any relation to the Dunbar family, who have -long been so prominent in this valley is unknown, as his family moved -further west, and the last heard of them was when his widow died and was -buried in the vicinity of Dark Shade Creek, Somerset County. - -Dunbar was a dark, swarthy complexioned man, more like an Indian than a -Celt, and dressed in the tribal garb, could easily have passed off as -one of the aboriginies. At one time he evidently intended to remain in -the Fourth Gap, as in the centre of the greensward which contained the -Indian encampment, he erected a log fortress, with four bastions, the -most permanent looking structure west of Fort Augusta. In it he aimed to -live like a Scottish Laird, with his great hall, the earthen floor, -covered with the skins of panthers, wolves and bears, elk and deer -antlers hanging about, and a huge, open fireplace that burned logs of -colossal size, and would have delighted an outlaw like Rob Roy -MacGregor. - -When the Seneca Indians penetrated into the valley they were at a loss -at first to ascertain Alexander Dunbar’s true status. If he was related -to the prominent Scotch families identified with the Penn Government, he -would be let alone, but if a mere friendless adventurer, he would be -driven out the same as any one of the “Original People.” - -Dunbar was a silent man, and by his taciturnity won toleration for a -time, as he never revealed his true position. When the Senecas became -reasonably convinced that, no matter who he had been in the Highlands of -Scotland, he was a person of no importance in the mountains of -Pennsylvania, they began a series of prosecutions that finally ended -with his murder. This took its first form by capturing all members of -the Lenni-Lenape tribe who ventured into the lower end of the valley, -for those who had settled further down, and on the banks of the -Susquehanna and Monsey Creek had moved westward when they learned that -they had been “_sold out_.” However, the residents of Dunbar’s -encampment occasionally ventured down South Creek on hunting and fishing -expeditions. When the heads of half a dozen families, and several -squaws, young girls and children had been captured, over a dozen in all, -and put into a stockade near the present village of Spring Garden, and -rumor had it that they were being ill-treated, Alexander Dunbar, -carrying a flag of truce, set off to treat with the Seneca Council, at -what is now Allenwood, with a view to having them paroled. - -The unfortunate man never reached the Senecas’ headquarters, being shot -from ambush, and left to die like a dog on the trail, not far from the -Panther Spring, above the present John E. Person residence. - -While the surviving, able bodied Monseys could have risen and started a -warfare, they deemed it prudence to remain where they were, and to make -Sugar Valley, and the valleys adjacent to White Deer Creek, their -principal hunting grounds. - -While Dunbar had lived, squaw man, though he was, he was the leader of -the Indians among whom he resided, else they would never have permitted -his erecting a pretentious fortress in the midst of their humble tepees -of hides and poorly constructed log cabins. At his death the leadership -devolved on his eighteen-year-old daughter, “Black Agnes,” his widow -being a poor, inoffensive creature, a typical Indian drudge. - -“Black Agnes” was even darker complexioned than her father, but was -better looking, having fine, clear cut features, expressive dark eyes -which flashed fire, although she was much below medium height, in fact, -no bigger than a twelve-year-old child. She wore her hair in such a -tangled way that her eyes, lean cheeks and white throat were half hidden -by the masses of her sable tresses. She usually attired herself in a -blue coat and cape, a short tan skirt trimmed with grey squirrel tails, -and long Indian stockings. She was in miniature a counterpart of Miriam -Donsdebes, the beautiful heroine of one of the chapters in this writer’s -book “South Mountain Sketches.” - -While it may have given the Senecas added cause to repeat their jibe of -“old women” at the Lenni-Lenapes, for not avenging Dunbar’s death, it -was a case of living on sufferance anyway, and foolish to have attacked -superior numbers. The Senecas always had white allies to call on for -arms and ammunition, while from the first, the Delawares were a -proscribed people, slated to be run off the earth and exterminated. - -During this lull, following the Scotchman’s murder, which the Senecas -would have doubtless have disavowed, an embassy appeared at the Dunbar -stronghold to ask “Black Agnes’” hand in marriage with a young Seneca -warrior named Shingaegundin, whom the intrepid young girl had never -seen. While it would have been extremely politic for “Black Agnes” to -have accepted, and allied herself with the powerful tribe that had -wronged her people, she sent back word firmly declining. - -After the emissaries departed through the gate of the stockade, she -turned to her warriors, saying, in the metaphorical language of her -race: “The sky is overcast with dark, blustering clouds,” which means -that troublesome times were coming, that they would have war. - -The embassy returned crestfallen to Shingaegundin, who was angry enough -to have slain them all. Instead, he rallied his braves, and told them -that if he could not have “Black Agnes” willingly, he would take her by -force, and if she would not be a happy and complaisant bride, he would -tie her to a tree and starve her until she ceased to be recalcitrant. - -The bulk of the Monseys having departed from the valleys on both sides -of the Susquehanna, to join others of their tribe at the headwaters of -the Ohe-yu, left the Dunbar clan in the midst of an enemy’s country, so -that it would look like an easy victory for Shingaegundin’s punitive -expedition. - -“Black Agnes” had that splendid military quality of knowing ahead of -time what her adversaries planned to do–whether “second sight” from her -Scotch blood, or merely a highly developed sense of strategy, matters -not. At any rate, she was ready to deal a blow at her unkind enemies. -Therefore she posted her best marksmen along the rocky face of the South -Mountains, on either side of Fourth Gap. Behind these grey-yellow, -pulpit-shaped rocks, the tribesmen crouched, ready for the oncoming -Senecas. “Black Agnes” herself was in personal command inside the -stockade, where she was surrounded by a courageous bodyguard twice her -size. The women, old men and children, were sent to the top of the -mountain, to about where Zimmerman’s Run heads at the now famous -Zimmerman Mountain-top Hospice. At a signal, consisting of a shot fired -in the air by “Black Agnes” herself, the fusillade from the riflemen -concealed among the rocks was to begin, to make the Fourth Gap a -prototype of Killiecrankie. - -In turn the entrance of the Senecas into the defile was to be announced -by arrow shot into the air by a Monsey scout who was concealed behind -the Raven’s Rock, the most extensive point of vantage overlooking the -“Gap.” - -When “Black Agnes” saw the graceful arrow speed up into space, she again -spoke metaphorically, “The path is already shut up!” which meant that -hostilities had commenced, the war begun. - -The little war sprite timed her plot to a nicety. When the Senecas were -well up in the pass, and surrounded on all sides by the Monseys, whom -they imagined all crowded into the stockade, “Black Agnes” fired her -shot, and the slaughter began. The Senecas began falling on all sides, -thanks to the unerring aim of the Monsey riflemen, but they were too -inured to warfare to break and run, especially when caught in a trap. - -Shingaegundin, enraged beyond all expression at again being flouted by a -woman, and a member of the tribe of “old women,” determined to die -gamely, and within the stockade which harbored “Black Agnes.” He seemed -to bear a charmed life, for while his cohorts fell about him, he plunged -on unhurt. The gate of the stockade was open, and “Black Agnes” stood -just within it, directing her warriors, a quaint but captivating little -figure, more like a sprite or fairy than one of flesh and blood. - -[Illustration: OLD CONESTOGA WAGON, BRUSH VALLEY] - -Shingaegundin espied her, and knew at a glance that this must be the -woman who the wise men of his tribe had selected to be his bride, and -the cause of this senseless battle. His was a case of love at first -sight, the very drollness of her tiny form adding to his passion, and he -ran forward, determined to be killed holding her in his arms and -pressing kisses on her dusky cheeks. - -Such thoughts enhanced his ambition and courage, and he shouted again -and again to his braves to pick themselves up and come on as he was -doing. Dazed with love, he imagined in a blissful moment that he would -yet have the victory and carry “Black Agnes” home under his arm like a -naughty child. - -Just outside the palisade he was met by three of Agnes’ bodyguard, armed -with stone hatchets. None of his warriors were near him; shot and -bleeding, they were writhing on the grass, while some were already in -the hands of the Monsey braves, who had come down from their eyries, and -were dexterously plying the scalping knives. Few of the mutilated -Senecas uttered cries, although as the scalps were jerked off, it was -hard to suppress involuntary sobs of pain. - -“Black Agnes” saw nothing in the long, lank form of Shingaegundin to -awaken any love; she detested him as belonging to the race that had sold -her birthright and foully murdered her father, and she called to her -warriors: “Suffer no grass to grow on the war-path,” signifying to carry -on the fight with vigor. - -Shingaegundin was soon down, his skull battered and cracked in a dozen -places. Even when down, his ugly spirit failed to capitulate. Biting and -scratching and clawing with his nails like a beast, he had to have his -skull beaten like a copperhead before he stretched out a lifeless, -misshapen corpse. As he gave his last convulsive kick the Monsey -warriors began streaming through the gates, some holding aloft scalps -dripping with blood, while others waved about by the scalp locks, the -severed heads of their defeated foemen. - -Never had such a rout been inflicted on the Senecas; perhaps “Black -Agnes” would be a second Jeanne d’Arc, and lead the Lenni-Lenape back to -their former glories and possessions! - -The victorious Monseys became very hilarious, hoisting the scalps on -poles, they shimmied around “Black Agnes,” yelling and singing their -ancient war songs, the proudest moment of their bellicose lives. - -“Black Agnes” was calm in triumph, for she knew how transitory is life -or fame. Biting her thin lips, she drew her scalping knife and bent down -over the lifeless form of Shingaegundin, to remove his scalp in as -business-like a manner as if she was skinning a rabbit. Addressing the -grinning corpse, she said: “Bury it deep in the earth,” meaning that the -Seneca’s injury would be consigned to oblivion. Then, with rare -dexterity, she removed the scalp, a difficult task when the skull has -been broken in, in so many places. - -Holding aloft the ugly hirsute trophy, she almost allowed herself to -smile in her supreme moment of success. Her career was now made; she -would rally the widely scattered remnants of the Delawares, and fight -her way to some part of Pennsylvania where prestige would insure peace -and uninterrupted happiness. But in these elevated moments comes the -bolt from the blue. - -One of the panic-stricken Senecas, bolting from the ignominious ambush -of his fellows, had scrambled up the boulder-strewn side of the -mountain, taking refuge behind the Raven’s Rock, lately occupied by the -chief lookout of the Monseys–he who had shot the warning arrow into the -air. Crouching abject and trembling at first, he began to peer about him -as the fusillade ceased and smoke of battle cleared. He saw his slain -and scalped clansmen lying about the greensward, and in the creek, and -the awful ignominy meted out to his lion-hearted sachem, Shingaegundin. -At his feet lay the bow and quiver full of arrows abandoned by the scout -when he rushed down pell mell to join in the bloody scalping bee. - -The sight of “Black Agnes” holding aloft his chieftain’s scalp, the -horribly mutilated condition of Shingaegundin’s corpse, the shimmying, -singing Monseys, waving scalps and severed heads of his brothers and -friends, all drew back to his heart what red blood ran in his veins. - -“Black Agnes” stood there so erect and self-confident, like a little -robin red-breast, ready for a potpie, he would lay her low and end her -pretensions. Taking careful aim, for he was a noted archer, the Seneca -let go the arrow, which sped with the swiftness of a passenger pigeon, -finding a place in the heart of the brave girl. The tip came out near -her backbone, her slender form was pierced through and through. The -slight flush on her dark cheeks gave way to a deadly pallor, and, facing -her unseen slayer, “Black Agnes” Dunbar tumbled to the earth dead. - -The dancing, singing Monseys suddenly became a lodge of sorrow, weeping -and wailing as if their hearts would break. The Seneca archer could have -killed more of them, they were so bewildered, but he decided to run no -further risks, and made off towards his encampment to tell his news, -good and bad, to his astounded tribesmen. - -When it was seen that “Black Agnes” was no more, and could not be -revived, the sorrowful Monseys dug a grave within the stockade. It was a -double death for them, as they knew that they would be hunted to the end -like the _Wolf Tribe_ that they were, and they had lost an intrepid and -beloved leader. - -According to the custom, before the interment, “Black Agnes’” clothing -was removed, the braves deciding to take it as a present to the dead -girl’s mother, to show how bravely she died. They walled up the grave -and covered the corpse with rocks so that wolves could not dig it up, -graded a nice mound of sod over the top, and, like the white soldiers at -Fort Augusta, fired a volley over her grave. - -That night there was a sorrowing scene enacted at the campground near -the big spring at Zimmerman’s Run. The grief-stricken mother wanted to -run away into the forest, to let the wild beasts devour her, and was -restrained with great difficulty by her tribesmen, who had also lost all -in life that was worth caring for, peace and security. - -With heavy hearts they started on a long journey for the west, carrying -the heart-broken mother Karendonah in a hammock, to the asylum offered -to them by the Wyandots on the Muskingum. The bereaved woman carried the -blood-stained, heart-pierced raiment of her heroic daughter as a -priceless relic, and it was in her arms when she died suddenly on the -way, in Somerset County, and was buried beside the trail, on the old -Forbes Road. The Monseys, however, took the costume with them as a -fetich, and for years missionaries and others interested in the tragic -story of “Black Agnes” Dunbar were shown her blue jacket with the hole -in the breast where the arrow entered. - -That arrow pierced the hearts of all the Monseys, for they became a -dejected and beaten people in their Ohio sanctuary. - -While it is true that most of the very old people who lived in the -vicinity of the Fourth Gap have passed away, it may yet be possible to -learn the exact location of the cairn containing the remains of “Black -Agnes” and place a suitable marker over it. One thing seems certain, if -the tradition of the Lenni-Lenape that persons dying bravely in battle -reach a higher spiritual plane once their souls are released, her ghost -will not have to hunt the hideous, burnt-over slashings that were once -the wildly romantic Fourth Gap; it has gone to a realm beyond the -destructive commercialism of this dollar-mad age, where beauty finds a -perpetual reward and recognition. - -[Illustration] - - XV - _Abram Antoine, Bad Indian_ - - -Abram Antoine, a Cacique of the Stockbridge Tribe of Oneida Indians, had -never before while in Pennsylvania been off the watershed of the Ohe-yu, -or “The Beautiful River,” called by the white men “Allegheny,” until he -accepted the position of interpreter to a group of chiefs from the New -York and Pennsylvania Indians, to visit “The Great White Father,” -General Washington, at Mount Vernon. - -While the General had not been President for several years, and was -living in retirement at his Virginia home, the red Chieftains felt that -his influence would be such that he could secure redress for their -wrongs. Cornplanter had been on many such missions, and come home elated -by promises, few of which were ever fulfilled in any shape, and none in -their entirety, consequently he declined to accompany the mission on -what he termed a “fool’s errand.” - -Abram Antoine, through life in New England, New York and Canada, had -become much of a linguist, speaking English and French with tolerable -fluency, besides being well versed in the Seneca and other Indian -tongues. He was a tall, handsome type of redman, powerfully muscled, his -career on “The Beautiful River,” where he rafted and boated between the -Reservations and Pittsburg, and his service as a ranger for the Holland -Land Company, had developed his naturally powerful form to that of a -Hercules. Previously he had served in the American Navy, during the -Revolutionary War, which had instilled in him a lifetime respect for the -name of Washington. He was eager therefore to act as interpreter on an -occasion which would bring him into personal contact with the Father of -his Country. - -The Indians took the usual overland route, coming down the Boone Road, -to the West Branch of the Susquehanna at the mouth of Drury’s Run; from -there they intended _hiking_ across the mountains to Beech Creek, there -to get on the main trail leading down the Bald Eagle Valley to Standing -Stone (now Huntingdon), and from thence along the Juniata to Louisbourg, -then just beginning to be called Harrisburg. It had been an “open -winter” thus far. - -At the West Branch they met an ark loaded with coal, bound for -Baltimore, in charge of some Germans who had mined it in the vicinity of -Mosquito Creek, Clearfield County, near the site of the later town of -Karthaus. A friendly conversation was started between the party of -Indians on shore and the boatmen, with the result that the pilot of the -ark, Christian Arndt, invited the redmen to climb aboard. - -The invitation being accepted with alacrity, the ark was steered close -to the bank, and the Indians, running out on an uprooted snag which hung -over the water, all leaped on the deck in safety. It made a jolly party -from that moment on. The time passed happily, and many were the -adventures and experiences _en route_. No stops of any consequence were -made except at the mouth of Mianquank (Young Woman’s Creek), and -Utchowig (now Lock Haven), until the Isle of Que was reached, where -other arks and flats and batteaux were moored, and there were so many -persons of similar pursuits that a visit on dry land was in order. - -There was much conviviality at the public houses of Selin’s Grove, and -the Germans amused themselves trying to carry on conversations with the -native Pennsylvania Dutchmen, dusky, dark-featured individuals, who saw -little affinity between themselves and the fair, podgy “High Germans.” -In wrestling and boxing matches, throwing the long ball, running races, -and lifting heavy weights, the Germans were outclassed by the native -mountaineers, but they took their defeats philosophically. A shooting -match was held, at which all the Indians except Abram Antoine held -aloof, but his marksmanship was so extraordinary that he managed to tie -the score for the up-river team. This was a consolation for the Germans, -and they left the Isle of Que well satisfied with their treatment. - -Other arks left their moorings at the same time, mostly loaded with -grain or manufactured lumber from the Christunn and the Karoondinha, and -the fleet was augmented by a batteau loaded with buffalo hides, at the -mouth of the West Mahantango. This was the last consignment of -Pennsylvania bison hides ever taken to Harrisburg, the animals having -been killed at their crossing over the Firestone or Shade Mountains, the -spring previous. - -It was a picturesque sight to see the fleet of arks and other boats -coming down the noble river, the flood bank high, driving up flocks of -water birds ahead of them, while aloft like aeroplanes guarding a convoy -of transports, sailed several majestic American Eagles, ever circling, -ever drifting, and then soaring heavenward. - -Out from the Juniata came several more arks, consequently the idlers in -front of the rivermen’s resorts at “The Ferry,” as some of the -old-timers still called Harrisburg, declared that they had never seen a -flood bring in a larger flotilla at one time. All, however, were anxious -to get in before the river closed up for the winter. - -When the up-river ark with its load of Teutons and redmen made its -moorings for the night near the John Harris tree, they noticed that all -the flags were at half-mast–there were many displayed in those days–and -there was a Sunday calm among the crowds lolling along the banks in the -wintry sunshine. - -“Who’s dead?” inquired Abram Antoine, as he stepped on the dock; his -naval training had made him alert to the language of the flag. - -“_General Washington_,” was the awed reply. - -The big Stockbridge Indian’s jaw dropped, his lifetime ambition of -conversing with the “first in the hearts of his countrymen,” and the -purpose of the mission had been thwarted by a Higher Will. - -Turning to the gaudy appareled chief behind him, he conveyed the unhappy -message. The Indians shook their heads so hard that their silver -earrings rattled, and were more genuinely sorry that Washington was no -more than the failure of their quest. All ashore, they held a conclave -under the old Mulberry tree, deciding that there was no use to go any -further, but would spend a day or two in the thriving new town, -Louisbourg or Harrisburg, whichever it was proper to call it, and then -return home. There was no use going to Philadelphia again, and a new -prophet sat in the chair of the Father of his Country at the Nation’s -Capitol. - -The party then separated for the present, most of them hurrying to the -nearest tavern stands to refresh thirsts made deeper by the sharp, fine -air on the river. Abram Antoine stood undecided, one hand resting on the -trunk of the historic Mulberry, a crowd of small boys watching him -open-mouthed and wide-eyed, at a respectful distance. - -Pretty soon he was accosted by a very old, white-bearded Dutchman, with -a strip of soiled gray silk on the lapel of his coat, which indicated -that he was a veteran of the Royal American Regiment of Riflemen that -had figured at Fort Duquesne in 1758. Abram Antoine had seen many such -veterans in and about Pittsburg, and held out his hand to the aged -military man. The old soldier signalled with his cane that the Indian -come and sit with him on a nearby bench, which he did, and they passed -an hour pleasantly together. - -The conversation turned principally to soldiering, and then to firearms, -and all the ancient makes of rifles were discussed, and their merits and -demerits compared. The veteran allowed that the best rifle he had ever -owned was of Spanish make, the kind carried by the Highlanders in the -campaigns of 1758 and 1763; it was of slim barrel, light and easily -handled, and unerring if used by a person of tolerable accuracy. - -There was one gunsmith in the alley over yonder, a veteran of the -Revolution, named Adam Dunwicke, who made a rifle close to the early -Spanish pattern. It was the best firearm being turned out in the State -of Pennsylvania. The gunsmith, anyhow, was a man worth knowing, as his -shop was filled with arms of many makes and periods, and he liked to -talk with any one who was an enthusiast on guns. - -Abram Antoine was fired by what the veteran told him, and as it was -still early in the afternoon, asked if he would escort him thither. It -would be fine if he could get an extra good rifle as a souvenir of his -ill-starred trip to Mount Vernon. The old man had too much time on his -hands as it was, and was only too glad to pilot the redman to the -workshop. They made a unique looking pair together, the old soldier, -bent and hobbling along on his staff, the Indian, tall, erect, and in -the prime of life. Their high, aquiline noses, with piercing, deep-set -eyes, were their sole points of physical similarity. - -When they reached the gunshop, in the dark, narrow alley that ran out -from Front Street, the veteran banged the grimy knocker, and it was -almost instantly opened by Dunwicke himself, a sturdy man of medium -height, who wore great mustaches, had on a leather apron and his sleeves -were rolled up, revealing the brawny biceps of a smith. - -Standing by the gunmaker, in the shadowy, narrow entry, was a very -pretty girl in a dark blue dress. She was as tall as the smith, but very -trim and slight, and her chestnut brown hair was worn low over her ears, -throwing into relief her pallid face, and the rather haunted, tired look -in her fine grey eyes, the marvelous smooth lines of her chin and -throat. - -A third figure now emerged from the gloom, a small Negro boy, to whom -the girl was handing a letter, with her trembling white hands. As the -Indian, the veteran and the gunsmith withdrew into the workroom, Abram -could hear her saying to the lad, as she closed the door by way of added -emphasis: “Tell him to be sure and come.” - -He could hear the footsteps of the girl as she went upstairs, and -henceforth he lost most of his interest in the question of obtaining a -rifle of the Spanish design. All his _designs_ were elsewhere, and he -was glad when the smith suggested they visit another room on the -opposite side of the entry, to look at several sets of extra large horns -of the grey moose or elk, which had recently come down on an ark from -somewhere up Tiadaghton. - -As they crossed the hallway, Abram Antoine looked up the flight of -stairs–there were three that he could make out–wondering on which floor -the fair apparition retired to; he presumed pretty near the roof, as he -had not heard her on the loose laid floor above the workshop. - -When they returned to the gun shop, the Indian, knowing the smith well -enough by then, inquired who the lady was whom they had seen in the -entry. - -“Oh, I don’t quite know what she is,” he replied. “She stays upstairs, -under the roof; you know that the upper floors of this building are let -for lodgers.” - -Instantly a life’s story, tragic or unusual, grouped itself about his -image of the girl, and his heart was filled with yearning. He was hoping -against hope that she would come down again. He had no excuse to go up, -but several times while the smith was chatting with the veteran of the -Royal Americans, he managed to wander across the hall, looking up the -well towards the grimy skylight, and then took another perfunctory -glance at the huge antlers standing against the wall. He prolonged his -stay as long as he could, saying that he liked to watch gunmakers at -work, and having ordered and paid for a costly rifle, he felt that his -presence was justified. - -It was well into the gloaming when “knock, knock, knock” on the front -door resounded through the hollow old building. Abram Antoine’s blood -ran cold; he could have shot the visitor if he was the slender girl’s -recalcitrant lover, but fervently hoped that, whoever it was, would have -the effect of bringing her downstairs. - -True enough, before he could get to the door at the smith’s heel, he -heard the light, familiar footsteps, and the girl, trying to look -unconcerned, was the first to turn the lock. - -It was only Simon Harper, a big, lean hunter from Linglestown, over by -the Blue Mountain, who had come to take delivery of a rifle made to -order. - -“Oh, I am so disappointed,” said the girl, as she turned to run -upstairs. - -The smith was escorting his swarthy customer into the shop. Abram -Antoine’s opportunity had come, if ever. - -“Do you have the letting of the rooms upstairs?” he said, politely, hat -in hand. - -The girl looked at him; it was probably the first time during the -afternoon that she had noticed his presence, so pre-occupied she had -been. - -“No,” she said, softly; “the lady lives on the next landing, but I saw -her going out.” - -Abraham was well aware how closely she had been watching that doorway! -“Are there any vacancies?” - -The girl dropped her head as if in doubt about carrying on the -conversation further, then replied: “I think there are.” “said the -Indian. - -Whether it was loneliness or desperation at the non-arrival of the -person to whom she had sent the letter, or the tall redman’s superlative -good looks and genteel demeanor–for a handsome man can attempt what a -plain one dare never aspire–at any rate without another word, she turned -and led the way up the long, steep stairs. - -It was with no sense of surprise that she brought him to the top of the -house, into her own garret, with its two small dormer windows which gave -a view in the direction of the Narrows at Fort Hunter, and the broad, -majestic river. There was a narrow bed with a soiled coverlet, a -portmanteau, a brass candlestick, and two rush-bottomed chairs, and -nothing else in it. In those days lodgers washed at the well in the back -yard. - -Both sat down as if they had known each other all their lives; the -frigid barrier of reserve of a few minutes earlier had broken down. They -were scarcely seated when the ominous “Clank, clank, clank,” that the -girl had been listening for so intently all afternoon, resounded up the -dismal vault of the stairway. - -Casting a frightened look at the big Indian, as much as to say, “What -will _he_ say if he finds you here?” she bounded out of the room, -descending the steps two or three at a time. - -Abram Antoine did not take the hint to retire, if such was meant, and -sat stolidly in the high-backed, rush-bottomed chair, in the unlighted -room. It was only a few minutes until she returned, her face red, all -out of breath, carrying the same letter which he had seen her hand to -the colored boy earlier in the afternoon. - -[Illustration: OLD SCHELLSBURG CHURCH, LINCOLN HIGHWAY] - -“Not in town, don’t know when he will return,” she was chanting to -herself, as she came through the open door. She started back, as if -surprised to find her new champion _still_ there. Without speaking, she -dropped down on the bed, facing him, fanning her flushed cheeks with the -envelope, although the little room was quite cold. - -“I am sorry that your letter was undelivered,” said Abram Antoine, after -a considerable silence. There was another pause, and then the girl, -still clutching the fated letter, revealed her story of embarrassment. - -“It isn’t a long story,” she began. "My name is Ernestine de Kneuse. My -father is the well-known miller and land-owner at New Berlinville, in -Berks County–Solomon de Kneuse. About a year ago a young stranger, Carl -Nitschman, I think a High German, came to the town, stopping at the -‘Three Friends’ Inn, which it was rumored he was to purchase. While -negotiating, he naturally met many of the leading people. He was -handsome and engaging, and all the girls went wild over him. It gave me -a fiendish pleasure to think that he favored me above the rest, and one -afternoon I cut my classes at the Select Academy, where I was in my -third year, and went walking with him. - -"My father, who belonged to the old school, had a hatred for any one who -might even consider going into the liquor business, saw us together and -told mother. On reaching home, although I was eighteen and had not had -even a spanking for several years, and thought I had outgrown it, my -mother took me to my room and administered a good, sound ‘scotching’ -with the rod. - -"Previously they had forbidden the young man the house, and when I -informed him how I was treated, he told me if I was disciplined again, -to run away. - -"Not long afterwards I was kept in at school, and mother accused me of -meeting my lover. I told her to go to the school and find out for -herself, which she did, but nevertheless that evening my mother visited -me in my room with the strap, and walloped me until I was black and blue -from shoulders to ankles. - -"Meanwhile Carl’s negotiations for the purchase of the tavern had fallen -through, and he was preparing to leave for Reading. Through one of my -girl friends who was not so strictly raised, I communicated to him the -story of this latest indignity, begging him to take me with him. He -replied that he would be traveling about for some time before settling -down there, but as soon as he was located, he would send me his address, -and to come. - -"I recall the morning of his departure, how I crawled out of bed before -dawn, and pressed my tear-stained face against the window lights as he -climbed on the coach at the inn, which was across the street from where -we lived, and settling down among his goodly store of bags and boxes, -was driven away. - -"Weeks passed, and I eventually got a letter through one of my girl -friends whose parents were less strict, that he had gone to Harrisburg, -and I should join him there. By exercising a great amount of ingenuity, -I got out of the house, and on the night stage for Reading, during one -of the terrible Equinoctial rains, making close connections with another -stage for Harrisburg, and I came to my present abode a month before, but -have never once seen Nitschman in the interval. - -“I’ve now learned that my parents are on my track, and will reach town -tonight; I have spent my last cent, and my letters to Nitschman receive -no satisfactory answers. I am now penniless, and cannot pay my lodging, -have eaten nothing all day, and have no place to go. I would not return -for all the world and subject myself to an irate mother.” - -The Indian was much interested by the recital, and told her that he had -loved her the minute he laid eyes on her, and would marry her if she -would return with him to his home, which adjoined the Cornplanter -Reservation, in Warren County. “I will marry you right away if you will -accept.” - -Pressed and harassed on all sides, and hungry as well, Ernestine, -looking up into the handsome face of the redman, capitulated. Closing up -her scanty belongings in the shabby portmanteau, she went down to the -landlady and settled her bill in full out of a “Double Eagle” which -Abram gave her, and then the pair quickly left the building. The gunshop -was locked, and dark, the veteran of the Royal Americans and the smith -had forgotten all about their Indian friend and gone their ways -regardless. - -They soon found the leading hotel stand, where they enjoyed a good -supper and learned of a preacher who would marry them. - -Just as they were about to leave the tavern the stage from Reading and -Stitestown pulled in, horses and running gear all spattered with mud and -slush. Among the first to clamber out was old Solomon de Kneuse and his -wife, but they gave them the slip in the darkness and confusion. - -At the manse, after the ceremony, the clergyman mentioned that his -brother was to be a juryman the next day at the trial of Nitschman, the -highwayman, who had held up and robbed the aristocratic McAfee family on -the road to York Springs. “May he pay dearly for interfering with -quality,” he added, seriously. - -Ernestine hung her head; she understood now why it was she had been -unable to see her lover since she came to the town; he had been in jail, -and perhaps she was stung with some tiny feelings of remorse to have -renounced him so quickly. However, necessity knows no law, but she -thought she knew her man. - -Before daybreak the newly married couple were ensconced in the stage -bound for Northumberland and Williamsport, and in due course of time -reached their future home, just across the river from Corydon. - -None of the other Indians returned for several weeks. When they did, -they were miserable looking objects from drink, and Abram half blamed -himself for not looking after them, but love had blinded him to -everything else. He provided a comfortable home for his bride, and as an -agent for the Holland Land Company, mingled with respectable people, who -were considerate to his wife. Among these were the family of Philip -Tome, that indomitable Indian-looking Nimrod, author of “Thirty Years a -Hunter,” whose prowess in the forests of Northern Pennsylvania will -never be forgotten while memory of the big game days lasts. - -Ernestine was really happy, and did not aspire to any different lot. -Though she was fearless, she hated to be left alone when her husband was -absent on inspection trips, and he generally managed to have an Indian -boy or girl–one of the O’Bails or Logans–remain with her when he was -away. - -In due time his handsome Spanish-type rifle, with its stock inlaid with -mother-of-pearl and silver, like the gun of some Moorish Sheik, reached -him, and of it he was justly proud, partly because it was the instrument -of his meeting Ernestine. - -On the first anniversary of their wedding he killed a fine stag with it -on the Kinzua, while hunting with Philip Tome. It was in the fall of the -second year of their marriage that Abram Antoine was called away during -a heavy flood in the Ohe-yu, which flowed in front of their house. Old -Shem, the one-eyed, half-breed ferryman, had difficulty in getting him -across in the batteau, so swift was the angry current. He was to be -gone, as usual, several days. - -On the night when she was expecting him home, Ernestine heard a loud -knocking at the kitchen door. Opening it she beheld Old Shem standing -outside, the rain dripping from his hat and clothing. - -“Missus Antoine,” he wheezed, “Abram is over to the public house at -Corydon, a very sick man, and wants you to come to him at once.” - -Ernestine was horrified, but, jerking down her cloak from the nail on -which it hung, ran out into the storm, and followed the aged ferryman -down the steep bank to the landing. The wind was bellowing terribly -among the almost bear hickories and butternuts along the shore, the -current was deep, dark and eddying. - -When one-third the way over, Old Shem looked up, saying: “Missus, it -hain’t Abram that’s sick; it’s your _other_ man, Mister Nitschman, what -wants you.” “shouted Ernestine. “I never had any other man. Take me back -home at once, you treacherous old snake in the grass.” - -Just then a pile of buffalo robes in one end of the deep batteau -stirred, and the form of a man arose–Carl Nitschman, back from jail. - -“Talk sensibly, Ernestine,” he said. “I have come for you, and will -forgive everything. You know you belong to me; your going off with that -Indian was all a hasty mistake.” - -Ernestine glared at him and again ordered the ferryman to take her home. -Instead he seemed to be trying to reach the Corydon shore the faster. -Just then Nitschman stepped forward, with arms outstretched, as if to -seize her. - -The slight and supple Ernestine sprang up on the gunwale, the boat -tipped; she either fell or jumped into the dark, swirling current. She -was gone before an effort could be made to save her, and the two -frightened men, white as ghosts, pulled for the light which gleamed -through the storm, in the tavern window at Corydon, with redoubled -energy. With a thud the prow hit the muddy bank and slid on shore. - -To their surprise Abram Antoine was standing on the bank. The one-eyed -ferryman began to cry, a strange thing for any one of Indian blood. “I -was fetching your wife across to meet you and she fell in the river.” - -Just then Nitschman, who had climbed out of the boat, was passing by -Antoine, who seized him by the collar. “Who is this son of –--?” -demanded the six-foot Indian. - -It was then that the ferryman broke down completely and confessed all. - -Antoine shook his captive like a rat, and slapped his face many times, -eventually tumbling him into the mud and kicking him like a sack of -flour. Then, picking up an oar, he beat the ferryman over the head until -he yelled for mercy. The noise roused the habitues of the hotel, and as -the victims were shouting “murder,” the local Constable, who ran the -hotel, placed Abram Antoine under arrest, beginning his fatal brand as -“Bad Indian.” - -Nitschman did not appear to press the charge next day, and the ferryman -apologized for his part in the affair, so Abram was free, minus his -beautiful wife and his reputation. - -It was beginning with that terrible tragedy that he began to find solace -at the tap room of the public house at Corydon. Philip Tome and even old -Cornplanter himself tried his best to save him, but he became an Indian -sot, losing his position with the land company, his home and his -self-respect. All that he held on to, and that because being an Indian -he was sentimental, was his Spanish rifle with the inlaid stock. He -spent more and more of his time in the forests, shunning white people -and fraternizing only with his own kind. He made a protege out of young -Jim Jacobs, a Seneca hunter of unusual ability, and they spent many -weeks at a time in the forests. - -To him he confided that before he died he would literally have -Nitschman’s scalp, have the blood atonement against the destroyer of his -happiness. - -A score of years had to pass before he met the ex-highwayman face to -face. He had heard of the early exploits of this modern Claude Du Val, -who was supposed to have reformed, and his blood boiled that such a -villainous wretch could wander about scot free. - -It was in the fall of the year, about 1822 or thereabouts, when the -great county fair was in progress at Morris Hills, one of the leading -towns above the New York State line, adjacent to the Indian -reservations. All manner of persons were attracted by the horse races, -displays of cattle, Indian foot races and lacrosse games, as well as the -more questionable side shows and gambling performances. - -Abram Antoine’s Indian friends had been sobering him up for weeks, and -he presented a pretty good appearance for a man of over sixty, when he -appeared to challenge all comers in tests of marksmanship with the -rifle. Never had “The Chief,” as everybody called him, done better than -the afternoon of the first day of the fair. The wild pigeons were flying -high overhead in the clear, blue atmosphere of that fine crisp autumn -day, but whenever he turned his rifle upwards he brought one down for -the edification and applause of the crowd. - -Just as he had shot a pigeon, his keen eye noticed a medium-sized, -fair-haired man, loudly dressed, edging hurriedly through the throng, as -if trying to get away. Antoine had never seen Nitschman except that -night when he had trampled him into the mud, but this fellow’s size and -general demeanor Corresponded with his mental conception of the one that -he had ever afterwards regretted that he had not slain. - -Moving with rapid strides through the crowd, pigmies beside his giant -stature, he blocked his little enemy’s further progress. “Nitschman, I -believe you are,” he said. - -“No, no; that hain’t my name,” spluttered the short man, coloring to the -roots of his faded yellow hair. - -“Yes, it is, Chief,” yelled a young Indian who was standing close by. - -That confirmation was all that Abram Antoine, bad Indian, wanted. -Swinging his rifle above the crowd, he brought it down with terrific -force on the head of his foe, crashing right through his high, flat -brimmed beaver hat and shattering the lock. - -To use the language of Jim Jacobs, Nitschman fell to the turf like a -“white steer,” and laid there, weltering in blood, for he was dead. - -All the latent hate and jealousy in the crowd against Indians -immediately found vent, and an angry mob literally drove Abram Antoine, -bad Indian, out of the fair grounds to the town lockup. It was some time -during 1823 that he expiated his crime on the gallows. - -[Illustration] - - XVI - _Do You Believe in Ghosts?_ - - -A. D. Karstetter, painstaking local historian, tells us that there was -no more noteworthy spot in the annals of mountainous Pennsylvania than -the old Washington Inn at Logansville. Built after the fashion of an -ancient English hostelry, with its inn-yard surrounded by sheds and -horse stables, it presented a most picturesque appearance to discerning -travelers. The passage of time had obliterated it, long before the great -fire on June 24, 1918, swept the town, removing even the landmarks which -would have showed where the old-time inn was situated. - -Many are the tales, grave or gay, clustered about its memory, far more, -says Mr. Karstetter, than were connected with the Logan Hotel, run by -the Coles, which was erected at a much later day, just when the old -coaching days were passing out, and the new era coming in. All of the -history that grew up about the Washington Inn ante-dated the Civil War, -while that of the Logan Hotel was of the period of that war and later. -This gives one a good mental picture of the type of legend interwoven -with the annals of the ancient Washington Inn. - -A winter rain had set in, just at dusk, as the great lumbering -five-horse coach (three wheelers and two leaders) from Hightown entered -the straggling outkirts of Logansville. The post boy on the boot blew -his long horn vociferously, waking the echoes up Summer Creek, then back -again, clear to the “Grandfather Pine” at Chadwick’s Gap. - -A whimsical old German, who worked at Jacob Eilert’s pottery, picked up -his old tin horn that he used to blow as a boy when wolves or Indians -were about, and answered the clarion in cracked, uncertain notes. Lights -glimmered in cabin windows, and many a tallow dip, fat lamp or rushlight -was held aloft to get a good view of the coach as it swirled along -through the mud, and its crowded company. Everybody was standing up, -buttoning their coats and gathering together their luggage, as the big, -clumsy vehicle checked up under the swinging sign, on which was painted -the well-loved features of the Father of His Country. - -The old landlord, his wife and the hostlers and stable boys and -household help were outside to assist the travelers to alight and show -them into the comfortable glow of the lobby. - -“When do you start out in the morning?” all were asking of the -rosy-cheeked driver, although the hour for continuing the journey west -from Logansville was printed in big letters on the rate card at the -posting office at Hightown, as “Sharp, 6.00 A. M.” - -In the candle-lit lobby, by a blazing fire of maple logs, the travelers -surveyed one another, the landlord and their surroundings. They were an -even dozen in number, nine men and three women. Some of the men were -hunters and had their Lancaster rifles with them; the others commercial -travelers. The women were also engaged in business pursuits. - -The stage was the sole means of penetrating into the back country, and -the canals and the Pennsylvania Central Railroad (now known as the Main -Line) the only methods of crossing the Keystone State in those early -days. - -A good supper was served–hickory smoked ham and eggs, hot cakes and -native grown maple syrup, and plentiful libations of original Murray -“Sugar Valley” whiskey, which put the huntsmen and the drummers in -capital humor. After the meal they brought out their pipes and sat in -groups about the fire in the great, low-ceilinged room. The three women, -who were middle-aged and of stolid appearance, sat together, talking in -undertones. - -All at once, when the fire suddenly spluttered up, one of the drummers, -a big, black-bearded fellow, said loudly enough so that all could -hear–he was evidently trying to make the conversation general–"In the -mountains they say that it’s a sign of a storm when the fire jumps up -like that." - -“And I guess we’re having it,” said another of the travelers, a little -man with gray side whiskers, dryly. - -Then, as wide shadows fell across the floor, another of the men, a -hunter, ventured the remark: “Do you believe in ghosts?” - -There was a pause, as if no one wanted to take up such a very personal -topic before strangers. It was in the days when the Fox sisters were -electrifying all of Pennsylvania, including the celebrated Dr. Elisha -Kane, with their mediumship, so that it was as popular a topic then as -now, in the days of Sir Oliver Lodge and Mrs. Herbine. - -At length one of the men, also a hunter, from Berks County, broke the -silence by asking if any one present had heard the story of the Levan -ghost of Oley Township, in Berks; if not, he would tell it. None had -ever heard it, so he told of the young Levan girl who had lost her -father, to whom she was particularly attached. - -One evening, while milking, she was seized with a very strong feeling -that her father was near, which feeling kept up for a week, growing -stronger daily. At last one evening she went into her room–the house was -built all on one floor–and she saw her father, as natural as life, -seated on an old chest that had come from France, for the Levans were -Huguenot refugees. - -The girl did not seem to be afraid to see her father, about whom a light -seemed to radiate, and they conversed some time together, mostly on -religious topics. Her mother and sisters, who were in another room, -heard her talking, and the voice which sounded like that of the -departed, and came to the door, which was ajar. - -“Who are you talking to?” the mother inquired. - -“To father–he is here; come in and see him,” replied the girl, calmly. - -The family was afraid to enter, remaining outside until the conversation -had finished and the ghost vanished. When the girl rejoined them, the -side of her face that had been turned to her father was slightly -scorched or reddened, as if she had been close to a fire. And that -tenderness of skin remained as long as she lived. - -While other versions of the story have appeared, this is the way it was -told that stormy night in the Washington Inn in the long ago. - -The ice having been broken, one of the women spoke up, saying that the -part of the story which told of the girl’s face being burned by the -_aura_ from the ghost interested her most, that over in the Nittany -Valley there was a case in the old Carroll family of a woman who had an -only child which she loved to distraction, but which unfortunately died. -The mother took on terribly, and during the night when she was sitting -up with the little corpse, besought it to prove to her that the dead -lived, if only for just one minute. - -In the midst of her weeping and wailing, and romping about the cold, -dimly-lit room, the dead child rose up in its little pine box and -motioned its sorrowing mother to come to it. The woman ran to the coffin -and the little one touched her forehead with its finger, which burned -her like a red-hot poker. Then it sank back with a gasp and a groan, and -was dead again. Ever afterwards there was a sore, tender spot on the -woman’s forehead where the corpse had touched it. - -Then another of the women told how she had been selling Bibles in the -Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee, and one of the wheels of her -carriage became dished from the bad roads. She had tried to put up with -a mountaineer who would not take her in, and gave her the choice of -sleeping in the barn with the team and the driver, or to occupy a room -in a deserted Negro “quarters” across the road. - -All night long she had been annoyed by her candles being blown out and -the door blowing open, though she locked it time and again. - -It was a commonplace sort of a ghost story, and one of the hunters -yawned at its conclusion. The evening’s reminiscences might have ended -then and there if the third woman traveler, the youngest and sturdiest -of the lot, who thus far had been the quietest, turned to the landlord, -who sat smoking in the settle, with a couple of his guests, asking him -if he remembered the Big Calf. - -“What do you know about the Big Calf?” he said, quizzically, looking at -the woman in order to see if he could recognize her. - -“I know as much as you do, I reckon,” she said. “I lived in this town -for a year learning millinery with Emilie Knecht.” “said the landlord. - -“I surely am,” responded the woman, “and I knew you well, Jakey -Kleckner, in those days.” “said the boniface, sitting up very straight. - -[Illustration: INTERIOR OF SCHELLSBURG CHURCH] - -“Long years ago,” began the business woman, "when this public house was -first opened, the landlord’s cow gave birth to an unusual calf. At six -weeks it was as big as most heifers of six months, and it was handsome -and intelligent, a brown-gray color–‘Brown Swiss’ they called the breed. -All the drovers and cattle buyers in the mountains wanted that calf for -a show, and her fame spread all over the ‘five counties.’ - -"There were two buyers from out about Greensburg that came in all the -ways to get her, but the price was too steep. They hung around all day, -drinking with the landlord in the tap room, and though he took too much -in this drunken bout, kept enough of his wits with him to refuse to -lower the price one shilling. The next morning he had to go away on -important business, and in the afternoon the drovers returned, telling -the landlord’s wife that they had met her husband on the road, and he -had consented to accept a lower figure. - -"The woman replied that while she was sorry her ‘man’ had shown such -weakness to change his mind so quickly, when on leaving he had told her -that he had been sickened by the importunities of the two strangers the -day before, yet she claimed, the calf as hers and it would not leave the -premises for any price, and except over her dead body. She prized it -especially since she had also raised the mother, which had recently been -killed by a wandering panther. - -"The men departed in an ugly mood. When the boniface returned in the -evening he was indignant at what his wife told him; he had not met the -drovers on the road, and if he had, the calf was not for sale. - -"Shortly after his arrival a German Gypsy, one of the Einsicks, appeared -in the inn-yard with a big she-bear, a brown one, which he took about -the mountains to dance and amuse the crowds at public houses, fairs and -political meetings. The stables were full, but after some arguing the -landlord consented to let the bear occupy the box stall where he kept -the Big Calf, which he removed to the smoke house. - -"During the night, which was very dark, the covetous drovers returned, -and, not knowing of the Big Calf’s changed quarters, one of them went -into steal it. In the darkness the bear seized him and hugged him almost -to death. His companion, vexed at his slowness in fetching out the Big -Calf, called to him, and he made known his predicament. - -"There was no way to free the captive but to begin clubbing the bear, -which set up such a loud growling that it aroused the owner and the -landlord, who ran out with pistols, just in time to see the two would-be -cattle thieves decamping from the inn-yard. They both fired after them, -but the scoundrels got off scot free. They never returned. - -"The Big Calf grew into a very handsome cow, and was the pride of the -mountain community. It was always brought in from pasture at night and -milked, lest it share its mother’s fate and be pulled down by a -Pennsylvania lion. - -"One evening, while the landlord’s only daughter, a very pretty, -graceful girl, was driving the cow home, she was joined by a handsome, -dark-complexioned young man, mounted on a superb black horse. He -accompanied her to the stables, where he watched her milk, and then put -up for the night at the inn. Next day he became very sick, and several -doctors were called in, who bled him, but could not diagnose his -ailment. - -"Meanwhile he proposed marriage to the landlord’s daughter, who nursed -him, pretending that he was a young man of quality from Pittsburg, which -flattered the innkeeper and his daughter mightily. - -"All this while he was trying to learn if the landlord kept any large -sum of money in the house. It was not long until the girl confided to -him that her father had gone into debt buying a farm in Nippenose -Bottom, as he wanted to retire from the tavern business. It was there -where he was when the two dishonest drovers from Greensburg had returned -and tried to euchre his wife out of the Big Calf. - -"Satisfied that there was no booty in the house, the fellow rose one -morning before daybreak, dressed quietly, although the girl was in the -room, wrote a note to her which he left on the clothes press, and made -his escape. The wording of the letter ran about as follows: - -“‘Dearest Love:–I am sorry to have left without saying goodbye, but my -intentions were not sincere, for while I admired your beauty and good -sense, which none can deny, I was only here to find out where your -father kept his money. But since he has none, and has gone into debt, I -need remain no longer. I thank you for all the information you gave me, -and for your kind attentions. Gratefully yours, David Lewis.’ - -“The poor girl had been one of the dupes of the celebrated ‘Lewis the -Robber,’ or some one impersonating him, as he had many _alter egos_, -some more daring than himself, and understudies. If half the stories -told of his exploits were true, he would have had to be a hundred years -old to do them, and get to so many places. - -"At any rate, the pretty girl was frightfully cut up by her misfortune, -and took to the bed lately vacated by ‘Lewis.’ She had told all of her -friends that she was to marry in a fortnight, and go to live in a big -house on Grant’s Hill, Pittsburg, and it was all terrible and -humiliating. Rather than let the real story get out, the girl’s parents -connived with her to say that word had been brought that the young -gentleman, while riding near Standing Stone Town, had been thrown from -his horse and killed. Hence when the girl was able to reappear, she was -dressed in black, as if in mourning for her dashing sweetheart. - -"The first time she came out of doors she went for a walk alone just -about dusk, so that not many people would be abroad, towards the lower -part of the village. She was never seen or heard of again. There was no -stream or pool big enough for her to drown herself in; a panther could -hardly have dragged her off and not left signs of a struggle; she might -have fallen in a cave or sink, it is true. At all events, it seemed as -if the earth had swallowed her up. Perhaps Lewis, or whoever he was, -came back after her. - -"When I came to Logansville to learn millinery with Emilie Knecht, I -lived in her house over the store, just across the way from this hotel; -the building was burned down afterwards. How such a gifted milliner came -to settle off here in the mountains I could never tell, but I suppose -mountain ladies must have nice hats just like those in the valleys. - -"We became good friends, and very confidential, though at that time she -was over thirty years of age and I was at least a dozen years younger. -She would never tell where she came from, except that it was down -country, and there seemed to be something on her mind which weighed on -her terribly. Though I think she was the loveliest looking woman I have -ever seen, she cared absolutely nothing for the men. As she believed in -ghosts, and so did I, we compared experiences. - -"I told her of a ghostly episode which left a deep impression on my -childish nature, which happened when I was six years old. My father -worked in the mines, and was on ‘night shift.’ Mother locked the doors -and we all went to bed. Mother’s room adjoined mine and my sister’s. -After we were in bed for some time, but not yet asleep, a man–he seemed -to be black–came to the door which led from mother’s room to ours, and -smiled at us. He drew back, re-appeared and smiled again, or rather -grinned, showing his white teeth; it was a peculiar smile. - -"I wanted to call mother, but sister, who was eight, said I must not -speak, I must keep very still. - -"Next morning we asked father what time he came home, and he said ‘not -until morning.’ We told our experience, but father and mother seemed to -think we had only imagined it. - -"But two persons do not imagine the same thing at the same time. -Besides, we were not afraid. I have often wondered what it was. My -sister died shortly after that. Could it have been a ‘warning,’ I -wonder? - -"The pretty milliner’s story was even more startling and unusual. She -declared that her grandmother’s ghost had come to her bedside every -night since she was a small child. She said that she never feared it, -but took it as a matter of course. I think that these nightly -visitations took a whole lot out of her. I can see her yet running down -the steep, narrow stairs in the mornings to the shop where I was -working–I was always an early riser–her face looking as if it had been -whitewashed, more so perhaps because her hair and eyes were so dark. - -"She was often nervous and irritable, and I laid it all to the vital -force which the ghost must be drawing out of her to materialize, but she -said it was only her liver which made her so dauncy. I begged her to let -me sleep with her, that I did not think that the ghost would come if I -was present, and if it did it could draw on some of my vitality, as I -was a big, strong, hearty girl. She would not let me sleep with her, -saying that she had gotten used to the ghost. - -"One evening Miss Knecht and I were invited to a chicken and waffle -supper at the home of old Mrs. Eilert, wife of the potter, whose house -was the last one in town. In those days there was quite a distance not -built up between the potter’s home and the rest of the village. The -holidays were approaching, and we were getting ready for the Christmas -trade, consequently stayed later in the shop than we had expected. - -"As I said before, Mrs. Eilert lived at the extreme end of town. When we -were a few squares from home we noticed a woman dressed in mourning who -seemed to be following us, or at least going in our direction. She was -an entire stranger to us, and we wondered where she could be going; so -each house we came to I would look back to see whether she entered. When -we were half a square from where we were going, we passed a house which -stood back pretty far from the road. There was considerable ground to -the place, and a high board fence all around. After we passed the gate I -turned, as before, to see whether this woman would enter. She did not. I -watched her until she was past the gate quite a ways. I turned and told -my companion she had _not_ entered, and immediately turned to look at -her again, and she was gone! - -"Where could she have gone in those few seconds in which I was not -looking at her? Everywhere there was open space–nowhere for her to hide. -Had she jumped the fence she could not have gotten out of sight in those -few seconds. I have often wondered since what it was. - -"When we reached the Eilert home I noticed that Miss Knecht was in a -highly unstrung condition, more so than I had ever seen her before. We -told the story, and the old potter smiled grimly, saying: ‘You surely -have seen the ghost of the landlord’s daughter who disappeared, all -dressed in black, after being jilted by the robber.’ - -"Emilie shook her pretty dark curls, muttering that she feared it was -something worse. She was afraid to go home that night, and we spent the -night with our friends; yet she would not remain unless given a room by -herself. In the morning she was in a most despondent mood; she had not -seen her grandmother–what could it mean? - -"The woman in black must have been her ‘familiar’ leaving her, warning -her to that effect, and not the ghost of the landlord’s daughter after -all, she maintained. I tried to reassure her that she would see her -grandmother once she was in her own room, but next morning brought the -tidings that the faithful spirit was again absent. This continued for a -week, my friend becoming more nervous and despondent. - -"One morning she did not come downstairs, so at eight o’clock I went up -after her, to see if she were ill. The bed was empty, and had not been -slept in. I searched the house and found her lying dead on a miserable -cot in the cellar–beautiful in death–which an elderly Dutchman sometimes -occupied, when cutting wood and taking care of the garden for us. She -had drunk a potion of arsenic that she had bought some months before to -poison rats which infested the cellar, but her lovely face was not -marked. - -“I left town shortly afterwards, and have never been back until -tonight.” - -The burly commercial traveler who had started the general conversation -stroked his long black beard. - -"I guess it is time for all of us to retire. I don’t think we need to -ask this lady again, ’Do you believe in ghosts?‘" - -[Illustration] - - XVII - _A Stone’s Throw_ - - -When land warrants were allotted to Jacob Marshall and Jacob Mintges, of -the Hebrew colony at Schaefferstown, there were elaborate preparations -made by these two lifelong friends to migrate to the new country of the -Christunn. That the warrants were laid side by side made the situation -doubly pleasant, a compensation in a measure for any regrets at leaving -the banks of the beautiful Milbach. The country was becoming too closely -settled, opportunities were circumscribed, and the liberality of the -Proprietary Government should be taken advantage of. - -When the two groups of pioneers were ready to start for the new home, it -was like some scene from the patriarchal days of the Old Testament. The -long, lean, gaunt, black-bearded Jews, black-capped, cloaked to their -heels, and carrying big staffs, led the way, followed by their families -and possessions of live stock, farming and household utensils. Each head -of a family had an Indian and Negro servant or two, which added to the -picturesqueness of the caravans. Dogs, part wolf, herded the flocks of -sheep, goats and young cattle, while the women rode on mares, the foals -of which trotted along unsteadily at their sides. - -Rachel, Jacob Marshall’s handsome daughter, was mounted on a piebald -filly; on her back was slung her violin, a genuine Joseph Guarnerius, -with which she discoursed sacred music around the campfire in the -evenings, just as her ancestors may have done on some harp or cruit in -remote days in Palestine or in the Arabian highlands. - -These German Jews, who came to Pennsylvania in 1702 to re-convert the -Indians, whom they believed to be the lost tribe of Israel, back to the -ancient faith of Moses, while destined to fail as proselyters, became -one of the potent root sources of the so-called Pennsylvania Dutch, “The -Black Dutch” of the Christunn, Philadelphia, New York and the World. - -The Pennsylvania Dutch are the most adaptable race in the world, -altering the spelling of their names, their genealogies and traditions -with every generation. They find success in all callings and in all -walks of life like the true Nomads that they are. A Pennsylvania -Dutchman’s lineage is kaleidoscopic any way–possibly German, Jewish, -probably Indian, with sure admixtures of Dutch, Quaker, Swiss, -Scotch-Irish, Greek, Bohemian, Spanish or Huguenot. And there were some -propagandists shallow enough to try to line them up with Kaiserism in -the days just anterior to the World War, and call them “Pennsylvania -Germans.” - -Their very swarthiness and leanness, the intenseness of their black -eyes, gave the lie to any Teutonic affiliations, despite the jargon that -they speak. And what a race of giants they have produced–Pershing, -Hoover, Gorgas, Schwab, Replogle, Sproul, the Wanamakers, Newton Diehl -Baker, Jane Addams–a group as potent as any other in the sublime effort -of making the world “safe for democracy.” - -When the pilgrims reached the Karoondinha, they were met by the local -agents and surveyors of the Proprietors, who escorted them to their new -estates, which were bounded on the south by the Christunn, now renamed -“Middle Creek,” and on the north by the craggy heights of the -culminating pinnacle of Jack’s Mountain, the famed “High Top,” climbed -by the Pennsylvania Alpine Club, August 24, 1919. - -A large gray fox, or Colishay, having led Mintges‘ dogs away from the -camp, caused this “Father in Israel” to be absent during the critical -moments when the line between his property and that of Marshall was -being confirmed by the Proprietary surveyors. When he returned, -exultingly swinging the fox’s pelt above his head and looking all the -world like a lower Fifth Avenue fur jobber, the day was almost spent and -the surveyors were gathering up their instruments. - -Marshall, who was a kindly and just man, tried to explain to his friend, -before the sun went down, just where the line was blazed. It seemed fair -enough at the time to Mintges. Later on, when alone one day, he walked -over the line, comparing it with the warrant, and it did not seem to -satisfy him as much. He believed that the surveyors had deviated a rod -or two all along, to his disadvantage. Doubtless if such was the case, -it had been due to their haste to get through, for they had a daily -grind of similar cases, but Marshall, he thought, should have compelled -them to follow the parchment drafts, and not uncertain instruments. - -Nevertheless, he decided to say nothing to his friend; they had always -been good intimates, why should their relations be jeopardized for a -paltry rod or two. Mintges confided the mistake to his wife, and later -on to his children. It was unfortunate, but where there were so few -neighbors it was hardly worth a fight. - -As Mintges grew older the matter began to prey on his mind, to obsess -him. It worried him until his head ached, and he could not drive it -away. Marshall and his heirs were profiting at his expense; it should -not be allowed to rest that way. - -The surveyors had placed a great stone at the upper corner of the line, -at the slope of the mountain, and there Jacob Mintges repaired one -moonlight night, armed with a crowbar, and reset the stone two rods on -the alleged domain of Jacob Marshall. Mintges was an old man at the -time, rabbinical in appearance, and he chuckled and “washed his hands” -as he stood and viewed the fruits of his labor. A wrong had been quietly -righted; why hadn’t he done it twenty years ago? - -It so happened that Jacob Marshall went out for chestnuts a week or so -after Mintges’ performance, and saw the altered position of the stone. -Instead of hastening to his friend’s house and asking him for a frank -explanation, he, not being conscious of any wrong-doing, moved the stone -back to its original position, to rebuke the presumptuous Mintges. Then -he stood admiring his work, while he stroked his long black beard. - -A few weeks later Mintges and his sons went to the mountain to brush out -a road on which to haul logs with their oxteams in the winter-time. One -of the boys, named Lazarus, called his father’s attention to the stone’s -position. It made the old man “see red,” and he would not rest until, -with the aid of his sons, it was again set where he felt it should -rightfully be. - -All this produced a coolness, almost a feud, between the two families, -which kept up until Jacob Mintges died at the age of eighty years. Jacob -Marshall, friend of his youth and companion of his “trek” to the -wilderness, did not attend the obsequies. - -It was not many nights afterwards when reports were made on all sides -that Mintges’ spook was abroad, walking about the fields and lanes -adjacent to Jacob Marshall’s home, his arms holding aloft a great block -of stone. Marshall saw the apparition several times, but shunned it as -he had the living Mintges the last years of his life. - -What he wanted was very plain, for sometimes the night wind wafted the -mournful words down Marshall’s bedroom chimney (for he always kept his -windows nailed shut): “Where shall I put it; oh, where shall I put it?” - -The ghost began his hauntings in the spring, kept it up all summer, -fall, winter, then another spring and summer. He had affixed himself to -the family, Marshall thought, as he racked his brain to lay the -troublesome night prowler. - -It was during the fall of the second year that a big party of moonlight -’coon hunters went up the lane which led between the Marshall and -Mintges farms, headed for the rocky heights of Jack’s Mountain. In the -party was Otto Gleim, the half-witted drunkard of Selin’s Grove, little, -dumpy, long-armed High German, high-shouldered Otto Gleim, who was left -at the foot of the mountain to hold one of the lanterns. - -Gleim was half full on this occasion, as it was in the cider season, and -he staggered about under the aged chestnut trees, while his wits -revolved in his head with the speed of an electric fan. He felt -lonesome, sick and uncomfortable. It was a relief to see a great, tall -figure, with a long, black beard, approaching him, holding aloft a huge -stone. It looked like “Uncle Jake” Marshall at first; no, it wasn’t–it -was no one else but the late “Uncle Jake” Mintges, his neighbor. - -As the gaunt figure drew nearer, it began groaning and wailing: “Where -shall I put it; oh, where shall I put it?” in tones as melancholy as -those of the Great Horned Owl on a New Year’s Eve. - -“Put it where it belongs,” spluttered Otto Gleim, the drunkard, with a -gleam of super-human prescience, and lo and behold, the ghost set the -stone where it had been for twenty years after the surveyors had placed -it there. Then the apparition vanished, and Gleim, in a matter-of-fact -way, sat down on the cornerstone, where he waited until the ’coon -hunters returned. - -Jake Mintges’ ghost ceased to wander and lament, but instead allied -itself closely with Jake Marshall’s family as private stock banshee, -warning, token or familiar. Whenever a disaster was due to any member he -would show his grinning tusks, as much as to say: “Now, make the best of -what is coming; life is short anyway.” - -No doubt his visits of forewarning strengthened the nerves of the family -to face trouble with a greater degree of equanimity; in all events the -poor old fellow meant it that way. Old and young, rich and poor, in -cities or in the wilds, wherever the blood of Jacob Marshall flowed, the -ghost of Mintges was in evidence at the climacteric moments of their -lives. They were all used to him, and never resented his visits or tried -in any way to lay him. - -The scene shifts to one of the last to encounter this strange old ghost. -It is in a great city, in a high-ceilinged, yet gloomy room, furnished -in the plush and mahogany of the middle eighties of the last century. A -very dark girl, with full pouting lips and black eyes, half closed and -sullen, yet beautiful in the first flush of youth withal, is seated on -one of the upholstered easy chairs. Standing in the bay window facing -her is a very tall man, equally dark, his drooping black mustache and -long Prince Albert coat making him appear at least ten years older than -the twenty-eight which was his correct age. - -[Illustration: LOOKING TOWARDS SUMMER CREEK GAP FROM LOGANTON] - -On a centre table, with a top of brown onyx, on which were also several -bisque ornaments, lay an ancient violin and bow, a veritable Joseph -Guarnerius. It was made of a curious piece of spruce which, when growing -in some remote forest of Northern Italy, had been punctured by a “Gran -Pico” or large green woodpecker, and the wood stained, giving a unique -and picturesque touch to this specimen of the skill of the old master of -Cremona. - -“I have determined to go home tonight,” said the dark girl, with -decision, “and nothing can stop me. When any of our family see the face -of Jacob Mintges, it means disaster to some one near to us; my mother -and her old parents, whom I left so suddenly, may be grieving to death; -I will go to them tonight.” - -The tall man fumbled with his long fingers among the tassels on the back -of a chair in front of him, as if trying to frame up a decisive answer. -“This is what I call base ingratitude,” he faltered at length, in high, -almost feminine tones. “Just when I have had your musical talent -developed, turning you from a common fiddler to a finished artiste, and -having you almost ready to make your stage debut as a popular juvenile, -you leave me in the lurch, and all because you imagined you saw a -ghost–_imagined_, I say, for there are no such things.” - -The dark girl sat perfectly still, biting her full red lips, her immoble -face as if made of ivory. - -“What are you, anyway?” she finally responded; “nothing but what my -father called a mountebank; he hated them, an _actor_, and I owe you -nothing but contempt for having brought me here to be your plaything -while my youth and good looks last.” - -Then, as she got up and started towards a door, the tall man darted -after her. - -“I’ll not let you make a fool of yourself,” he hissed, theatrically. -Catching her by the wrists, he attempted to detain her. - -“Sit down; we must have this out.” - -She was almost as tall as he, and very muscular, and the Jewish strain -in her blood was hot. The pair struggled about the room, until the man -in his anger seized the old violin and hit her a heavy blow over the -head. She sank down on the floor in a limp mass, and the man, picking up -his brown Fedora, ran out of the room and down the long flight of stairs -and out into the street. The girl was not badly hurt, only stunned, and -came to herself in about fifteen minutes. She saw that she was alone, -and the Guarnerius was around her neck. - -Gathering herself up, her first thought was for the violin, and tying -the smallest chips in her handkerchief she went to the inner room and -began to pack a large portmanteau. Then she put on her hat, veil and -cloak and, locking the apartment door and slipping the key in her grip, -she left the house and hurried down town towards the railroad depot. - -It was dark when she reached there, and she quickly boarded a local, to -wait in the suburbs until the night sleeping car train for Derrstown -made its stop there. All went well, and by midnight she was boarding the -sleeper and was soon afterwards undressed and under the sooty-smelling -blankets in a lower berth. - -She did not know how long she had been sleeping when the train suddenly -stopped with a jerk and she was awake. Looking around, she saw a face -peering through the curtains. It was not the porter, but the leering, -open mouth, old Jacob Mintges himself, tusks and all. - -Twice now in twenty-four hours he had come to her, for the night -previous she had waked just in the gray half light before dawn, and had -seen him standing grinning by her bedside. - -An inexperienced person might have screamed, but not so Eugenie -Carlevan, the great-great-granddaughter of Jacob Marshall. When their -eyes met, Mintges quickly withdrew, and the girl, wide awake, began -thinking over the past years of her life, as the train again started to -roll on into the night. She had always been fond of music and theatres. -The violin given to her on her sixth birthday by her grandfather -Marshall had become the evil genius of her destiny. Her father had died -and her mother was too much of a drudge to control her. She had attended -every circus, burlesque, minstrel show or dramatic performance that had -come to the town where she had lived, since she was thirteen years old. - -When the young Thespian who called himself Derment Catesby had come to -Swinefordstown, where she was visiting an aunt, with the “Lights -O’London” Company, she had fallen violently in love with him, had made -his acquaintance, and he, struck by her imperious beauty and musical -predilections, had asked her to go away with him. - -She had joined him a few days later in Sunbury, bringing her precious -violin, and traveled with him to the great city. There the actor soon -signed up to play in repertoire at a stock company. She liked him well -enough, despite his vanity and selfishness, for he was very handsome. It -was before the days when actors were clean-shaven like every servant, -and looked much like other people. However much she had loved him, Jacob -Mintges’ ghost had revealed a more pressing duty twice, and she was on -her way home. - -Soon she fell asleep again, and did not wake until the porter’s face -appeared to notify her that the train was leaving Sunbury. Her mother -lived with her aged parents out near Hartley Hall, among the high -mountains; it would be a relief to see those lofty peaks and wide -expanse of vision once more, after the cramped outlook of the city. How -peculiarly sweet the air seemed, with the sun coming up behind the -fringe of old yellow pines and oaks along the river! What refreshing -zephyrs were wafted from those newly-ploughed fields. The bluebirds and -robins were singing in the maple trees about the station. On a -side-track stood the little wood-burner engine, with its bulbous stack, -puffing black smoke, ready to pull its train of tiny cars out to the -wonderful, wild mountain country, the land of Lick Run Gap, the Lost -Valley, the High Head, Big Buffalo, Winklebleck and Shreiner! - -How well she remembered the first time she had seen that wood-burner, as -a little tot, going on a visit with her father and mother. It was in the -golden hour, and deep purple shadows fell from the station roof athwart -the golden light on the platform! - -All these thoughts were crowding through her head until the bell on the -little engine reminded her that the L. & T. train was soon to depart. - -She reached home in time for dinner, was received with no enthusiasm, -for her mother and grandparents were true mountaineers, and their -swarthy faces masked their feelings, yet she was made to feel perfectly -welcome. - -Nobody had died, no one was sick, the house hadn’t burned down, -evidently the trials foretold by Jake Mintges were yet to come. - -That afternoon she showed the broken violin to her grandfather, who took -it to his workbench in an out-house to repair it, undaunted by the -seeming endlessness of the reconstruction. - -Eugenie seemed perfectly contented to be at home, She had had enough of -the _bizarre_, and reveled again in the humdrum. Five or six days after -her return the weekly county paper appeared at the house, with its -boiler plate front page and patent insides. Some instinct made her open -the wrapper as it lay on the kitchen table. On the front page she saw -the likeness of a familiar face, the well-known full eyes, oval cheeks, -rounded chin and drooping mustache, Derment Catesby. Then the headlines -caught her eyes, “Handsome Actor Shot to Death by Insanely Jealous -Husband at Stage Door.” Then she glanced at the date and the hour. It -was the night that she had taken the train–the very moment, perhaps, -that Jacob Mintges’ grinning face had looked through the curtains of her -berth. Yes, the murderer had waited a long time, as the victim had -tarried in the green-room. - -Eugenie sucked her full lips a moment, then looked hard at the picture -and the whole article again. Then she turned to her mother and -grandparents, who were seated about the stove. - -“Say, folks,” she said, coldly, “there’s the fine gent I went away with -from Swinesfordstown. I got out in time, the very night he was -murdered.” - -The mother and the old people half rose in their chairs to look at the -wood cut. - -“How did you know he was playing you false?” said the old grandfather. - -“How did I know, gran’pap?” she replied. “Why, the night before, Jake -Mintges came to me, and I knew _something_ was due to go wrong, and home -was the place for little me. You see I missed it all by a stone’s -throw.” - -"You’re right, ‘Genie’," said the old mountaineer. “Mintges never comes -to us unless he means business.” - - XVIII - _The Turning of the Belt_ - - -There are not many memories of Ole Bull in the vicinity of the ruins of -his castle today. Fifteen years ago, before the timber was all gone, -there were quite a few old people who were living in the Black Forest at -the time of his colonization venture, who remembered him well, also a -couple of his original colonists, Andriesen and Oleson, but these are no -more. One has to go to Renovo or to Austin or Germania to find any -reminiscences now, and those have suffered through passing from “hand to -mouth” and are scattered and fragmentary. They used to say that the -great violinist was, like his descendants, a believer in spiritualism, -and on the first snowy night that he occupied his unfinished mansion, -chancing to look out he saw what seemed to him a tall, white figure -standing by the ramparts. - -Fearing that it was some _skeld_ come to warn him of impending disaster -to his beloved colony, he rushed out hatless, only to find that it was -an old hemlock stab, snow encrusted. - -Disaster did come, but as far as local tradition goes Ole Bull had no -warning of it. The hemlock stab which so disturbed him has been gone -these many years, but a smaller one, when encased in snow, has -frightened many a superstitious wayfarer along the Kettle Creek road, -and gone on feeling that he had seen “the ghost of Ole Bull.” - -But unaccountable and worthy of investigation are the weird strains of -music heard on wild, stormy nights, which seem to emanate from the -castle. Belated hunters coming down the deep gorge of Ole Bull Run, back -of the castle, or travelers along the main highway from Oleona to Cross -Forks, have heard it and refused to be convinced that there is not a -musician hidden away somewhere among the crumbling ruins. The “oldest -inhabitants,” sturdy race of trappers, who antedated Ole Bull’s -colonists, declare that the ghostly musician was playing just the same -in the great virtuoso’s time, and that it is the ghost of a French -fifer, ambushed and killed by Indians when his battalion was marching -along the “Boone Road” from Fort Le Boeuf to the memorable and -ill-starred attack on Fort Augusta at Sunbury in 1757. - -At the mention of “Boone Road” another question is opened, as there is -no historic record of such a military highway between Lake Erie and the -West Branch of the Susquehanna River. The afore-mentioned very old -people used to say that the road was still visible to them in certain -places; that there could be no doubt of its existence and former -utilization. - -Daniel Boone, if he be the pioneer of that name who first “blazed it -out,” was a very young man during the “French and Indian War,” and his -presence in that part of the country is a mooted question. Perhaps it -was another “Boone,” and a Norseman, for many persons named “Bonde” or -“Boon” were among the first Swedish settlers on the Lanape-Wihittuck, or -Delaware River, unconsciously pioneering for their famous cousin-German, -Ole Borneman Bull. - -In all events, the French fifer was shot and grievously wounded, and his -comrades, in the rout which ensued, were forced to leave him behind. -After refreshing himself at the cold spring, which nearly a century -later Ole Bull named “Lyso”–the water of light–he crawled up on the -hill, on which the castle was afterwards partly erected, to reconnoitre -the country, but dropping from exhaustion and loss of blood, soon died. -The wolves carried away his physical remains, but his spirit rested on -the high knoll, to startle Ole Bull and many others, with the strains of -his weird, unearthly music. - -It seems a pity that these old legends are passing with the lives of the -aged people, but the coming of Ira Keeney, the grizzled Civil War -veteran, as caretaker for the handsome Armstrong-Quigley hunting lodge, -on the site of one of the former proposed _fogderier_ Walhalla, has -awakened anew the world of romance, of dashing exploits in the war under -Sheridan and Rosecrans, of lumbering days, wolves, panthers and wild -pigeons, all of which memories the venerable soldier loves to recount. - -Yet can these be compared with the legend that Ole Bull, seeing a Bald -Eagle rise from its nest on the top of a tall oak near the banks of -Freeman’s Run, named the village he planned to locate there Odin, after -the supreme deity of the Scandinavian mythology, who took the form of an -eagle on one period of his development. His other settlements or -_herods_ he called Walhalla, Oleona and New Bergen. Planned at first by -the French to be a purely military route for ingress to the West Branch -country, but owing to the repulse at Fort Augusta, very infrequently -traversed by them, if at all, it became principally an overland “short -cut” for trappers, traders, travelers and settlers, all of whom knew its -location well. - -Who could have laid out such an intricate road over high mountains and -through deep valleys, unless a military force, is hard to imagine, even -if for some strange reason it was never written into “history.” - -After the Revolutionary War there was naturally an unsettled state of -affairs, and many farmers and adventurers turned their thought to the -country west of the Allegheny Mountains and River, as the land of -opportunity, consequently there was much desultory travel over the Boone -Road. Unemployment prevailed everywhere, and hordes of penniless -ex-soldiers, turned adrift by their victorious new nation, traveled -backwards and forwards along all the known highways and trails, picking -up a day’s work as best they could, their precarious mode of living -giving them the name of “cider tramps.” A few more reckless and blood -thirsty than their fellows, claimed that the country which they had -freed owed them a living; if there was no work and no pensions, and they -could not get it by hook they would take it by crook. In other words, -certain ex-service men, became strong-arm men, road agents, or -highwaymen, whichever name seems most suitable. - -The Boone Road, in a remote wilderness of gloomy, untrodden forests, -made an ideal haunt for footpads, and when not robbing travelers, they -took their toll from the wild game, elks, deer, bears, grouse and wild -pigeons which infested the region. Law and order had not penetrated into -such forgotten and forbidding realms, and obscure victims could report -outrages and protest to a deaf and dumb government. How long it was -before these robbers were curbed is hard to say. - -One story which the backwoods people about Hamesley’s Fork used to tell -dates back to five years after the close of the Revolution, about 1788. -Jenkin Doane, possibly a member of the same family that produced the -Doane outlaws in the Welsh Mountains, was one of the notorious -characters along the Boone Road. Like others, he was an ex-soldier, a -hero of Brandywine and Paoli, but his plight was worse, for just before -peace was declared, when a premature rumor to that effect had reached -his company, lying at Fort Washington, he had assaulted and beaten up an -aristocratic and brutal officer who was the terror of the line. For this -he had been sentenced to death, but later his sentence was commuted, and -finally, because there were no satisfactory jails for military -prisoners, he was quietly released, _sans h. d._ and the ability to make -a livelihood. - -He finally became a wagoner and hired out with a party of emigrants -going to Lake Erie, who traveled over the Boone Road. He saw them safely -to their destination, but on his return journey tarried in the -mountains, hunting and fishing, until his supplies were gone, when he -turned “road agent.” He evidently had a low grade of morals at that -time, for he robbed old as well as young, women as readily as men. He -was fairly successful, considering the comparative lightness of travel -and the poor class of victims financially. - -In an up-and-down country, where feed and shelter were scarce, he kept -no horse, but traveled afoot. He had no opportunity to test his heels, -as he never ran away, all his attacks being followed by speedy -capitulation. If a trained force of bailiffs had been sent out to -apprehend him, doubtless he could have been caught, as he had his -favorite retreats, where he lingered, waiting for his prey. - -There were not many such places in the depths of the seemingly endless -forests of giant and gloomy hemlocks and pines, places where the sun -could shine and the air radiated dryness and warmth. One of his -best-liked haunts was known as the Indian Garden, situated in an open -glade among the mountains which divide the country of Kettle Creek from -that of Drury’s Run. - -“Art.” Vallon, one of the oldest hunters on Kettle Creek, who died -recently, once described the spot as follows: “More than sixty years ago -my father on a hunting trip showed me a clearing of perhaps half an -acre, which he told me was called ‘The Indian Garden.’ I visited it many -times afterwards on my trapping excursions. It impressed me as very -unusual, being entirely free from undergrowth, except the furze grass -one sees on poor, worked-out land. - -“It was a perfect square of about half an acre, and was surrounded by -the deep, primeval forest. There was a fine spring not very far away.” - -It was there that Jenkin Doane and two other reckless characters who had -served with Simon Girty and acted as his henchmen lolled for hours in -the sun, waiting for victims. It was there that he usually maintained -his “camp fire” and at night slept on the ground in a sleeping bag of -buffalo hides. - -One night in the late winter, when there were still patches of snow on -the ground, Doane dreamed very vividly of a girl whom he had never seen. -He could hardly realize he had been dreaming when he awoke and sat up -looking about him, to where his vision was cut off by the interminable -“aisles of the forest.” He seemed to be married to her, at least they -were together, and he had the pleasure of saving her life from drowning -in a deep torrent where she had gone, probably to bathe. - -He had never seen a person of such unusual beauty. Her hair was dark and -inclined to curl, complexion hectic, her eyes hazel, but the chief charm -lay in the line of her nose and upper lip. The nose was slightly turned -up at the end, adding, with the curve of her upper lip, a piquancy to an -expression of exceptional loveliness. - -All the day he kept wishing that this charming young woman might -materialize into his life; he could not bring himself to believe but -that such a realistic vision must have a living counterpart. - -It was during the morning of the second day, when he had about given up -hope, that he saw coming towards him, down a steep pitch in the Boone -Road–it is part of the Standard Oil Pipe Line now–a young woman on -horseback, wearing a red velvet hat and a brown cloak. She was mounted -on a flea-bitten white horse of uncertain age and gait. Close behind her -rode two elderly Indians, also indifferently mounted, who seemed to be -her bodyguard, and between them they were leading a heavily-laden -pack-horse. - -He quickly turned his belt, an Indian signal of great antiquity, which -indicated to his companions that they would make an attack. - -Just as the white horse touched fairly level ground he commenced to -stumble and run sideways, having stepped on a rusty caltrop or “crow’s -foot” which the outlaws had strewn across the trail at that point for -that very purpose. Seeing the animal’s plight, the young equestrienne -quickly stopped him and dismounted. She had been riding astride, and -Doane noticed the brown woolen stockings which covered her shapely legs, -her ankle-boots of good make, as she rolled off the horse’s back. - -As she stood before her quivering steed, patting his shoulder, Doane and -his companions drew near, covering the three with their army muskets. It -was then to his infinite surprise he noticed that the girl in brown, -with the red hat, was the heroine of his dream, though in the vision she -had been attired in black, but the gown was half off her shoulders and -back when he drew her out of the water. - -It would have been hard to tell who was most surprised, Doane or the -girl. Much as he admired her loveliness, there had been the turning of -the belt, which meant there could be no change of purpose; his comrades -were already eyeing the well-filled packsaddles. - -The frightened Indians had dismounted, being watched by one of the -outlaws, while Doane politely yet firmly demanded the whereabouts of her -money. Lifting her cloak and turning her belt, she disclosed two long -deerskin pouches, heavy with gold. Unbuckling them, she handed them to -Doane, while tears began to stream down her cheeks. - -“You may take it, sir,” she sobbed, "but you are ruining my chances in -life. I am partly Indian, Brant’s daughter, grand-daughter of the old -Brant, and my father had arranged a marriage for me with a young officer -whom I met during the war, and I love him dearly. Though I told him of -my love, he would not marry me without a dowry of $3,000, and it took my -father five long years to gather it together. I would not care if I did -not love him so much. I was on my way to his home at the forks of -Susquehanna, and now you have destroyed all my hopes." - -The brigand’s steely heart was for a moment touched. “Brant’s daughter,” -he said, “you Indian people know the turning of the belt, which means -that what is decided on at that moment must be carried out; before I saw -who you were I resolved to rob you. It must be done, for I have two -partners who will demand their shares.” - -"You said ‘before you knew who I was,’" broke in the girl, her tearful, -piquant face filled with curiosity. “You never saw _me_ before.” - -“Oh, yes, I did,” replied Doane, “in a dream a couple of nights ago.” -“she said, as a final appeal. - -“I am afraid not,” he answered, as his comrade started to open one of -the pouches. Then he paused, saying: “I will not take all. I’d not take -anything from _you_ except that I have these partners. I will retain -half for them, and let you go on your way with the rest. Your good -looks–for you are truly the prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on–will -outweigh with your lover a paltry fifteen hundred dollars in gold.” -“cried the girl weeping afresh. “He does not love me; he only wants the -gold. I am the one that loves, and am lost and discarded without the -dowry.” - -Meanwhile one of the outlaws had drawn the caltrop from the horse’s -frog, and having smeared it with bear’s grease, the animal was walking -about in a fairly comfortable manner. - -[Illustration: AN ALLEGHENY EPISODE] - -The girl stood looking at Doane. He was young, strong, and had a fairly -decent face. How could he be so cruel? Then she looked at his partners, -low-browed wretches, who were already muttering at the delay, and she -realized there was no hope. Doane gave up his share, and tossed the -other of the bags of gold to his “pals,” then ordered the girl and her -escort to proceed. He said that he would accompany her to the river, to -where the danger of meeting other highwaymen would be passed. The girl -traveled on foot the entire distance, to ease her horse over the rough, -uneven trail, walking side by side with the highwayman. - -They parted with civility, and on Doane’s side with deep regret, for the -dream had inflamed his soul, and the reality was so startlingly lovely -that he was deeply smitten. Before he had reached the river he wished -that he had shot his grasping companions, rather than endanger this -beautiful creature’s future happiness. - -“That was an unlucky turning of the belt,” he said to himself, as he -retraced his steps towards the Indian Garden. - -Brant’s daughter rode with a heavy heart the balance of the journey, for -she knew her lover’s nature. The Indian bodyguards were equally -downcast, for they had sworn to deliver her safe and sound at the forks -of the Susquehanna. - -When she reached the handsome colonial gray stone house, on a headland -overlooking the “meeting of the waters,” her lover, a handsome -upstanding youth, with a sports suit made of his old officer’s buff -uniform, and surrounded by a pack of his hunting dogs, came out to greet -her. His manner was not very cordial. With penetrating eyes he saw that -she was disturbed over something, so he quickly asked if she suffered -from fatigue after the long overland journey. - -“No, Major,” she replied, “I am not at all tired in body, but I am in -heart. I cannot postpone the evil moment. On the Boone Road we were -stopped by three highwaymen, armed, who took from me half of my dowry.” - -The Major’s handsome countenance darkened. “Why did you not tell them -you needed it to get married?” he blurted out angrily. “A pretty wench -like you could have honey-foogled them to keep it.” “replied the girl, -confidently, “and for that reason the chief of the band, a very pretty -man, let me keep the one-half, but he had to retain the rest for his -companions.” “ “I think I came off well,” she said, hanging her pretty -head, her cheeks all crimson flush. She was sitting on the horse, her -feet dangling out of the stirrups, her skirts turned up revealing those -shapely legs, and he had not asked her to dismount. - -The Major drew nearer, with an angry gesture. “I have a mind to smack -your face good and hard for your folly,” he stormed. “What do you think -I have been waiting for, a paltry _fifteen hundred dollars_?” - -Brant’s daughter turned her belt and handed him the pouch of gold, which -he threw down testily. It was quickly picked up by one of his German -redemptioner servants, who carried it into the house. - -“Aren’t you going to ask me to come in?” pleaded the now humiliated -love-sick girl. “You can slap me all you want. Punish me any way you -will,” offering him her stiff riding crop, “only don’t cast me off.” - -“Come down if you wish; I don’t care,” he mumbled in reply. “I wouldn’t -exert myself enough to whip you, but your hide _ought_ to be tanned for -your stupidity.” - -Cut to the heart, yet still loving abjectly, she slid off the horse and -meekly followed the imperious Major into the mansion. During the balance -of the afternoon, and at supper, and until she begged to be allowed to -retire, she was reviled and humbled in the presence of his -redemptioners. He declared that no one man in a thousand, in his station -of life, would consider marriage with a person of Indian blood; that it -was worth twice three thousand dollars, the figure he had originally -named. Nevertheless, he had carefully put the money bag in his strong -box, even though saying nothing about setting a date for a marriage. - -She was shown into an unfinished room. There was no bed, only a few -chairs, and two big walnut chests. Tearful and nervously unstrung, she -took off her shoes and, wrapping herself in her cloak, lay down on the -cold wooden floor. She could have called for blankets, and doubtless -gotten them, but her pride had rebelled and she resolved to make the -best of conditions. She could not sleep, and her mind was tortured with -her love for the Major, anger at his ungrateful conduct, and an -ever-recurring vision of the highwayman on the Boone Road. She heard the -great Irish clock in the hall below strike every hour until one. - -Suddenly she got up, her face brightened with a new resolve. Tying her -shoes together, she threw them them across her shoulder and tiptoed to -the door, which she opened softly, and went downstairs. Her Indian -bodyguards were sleeping on the stone floor in the vestibule, wrapped in -their blankets. - -“Exundos,” she whispered in the ear of the oldest, “get me out of this; -I am going to go away.” - -The trusty redskin, who always slept with one eye open, nudged his -comrade, Firequill, and made their way to the door. It was locked and -chained, and the key probably under the Major’s pillow. - -Exundos was determined to redeem his record. He rushed upstairs to where -a portly German was sleeping in the officer’s antechamber. He knocked -the valet senseless with the butt of his horse pistol. Then he sprang -like a panther over the prostrate body into the Major’s apartment. In a -moment he had gagged him with the caltrop extracted from the horse’s -foot, then bound him hand and foot. - -The key was under the pillow. In five minutes the fugitives were on the -front lawn, surrounded by the Major’s pack of yelping, snarling hounds. -Getting by them as best they could, the trio made for the bluffs, found -a dugout in which they crossed the river, and were soon in the shelter -of the friendly mountains. - -In the morning the Major’s other servants who slept in quarters near the -stables, found the half-dazed bodyguard with a bloody head, and their -gagged and helpless master. Once released, the Major decided not to send -a posse after the runaways; he was heavily in debt, and needed that -pouch of fifteen hundred dollars in gold. - -Brant’s daughter, after her fortuitous escape, was not completely happy. -She had longed for the Major for five years, and had almost gotten him -as the result of severe privations. It was pretty hard to lose him now. -She was going home defeated, to die unwed. Her feelings became desperate -when she reached the Boone Road, with all its haunting memories. - -As she clambered up the steep grades, and the Indian Garden came into -view, she reached down and turned her belt, the symbol of resolution. No -one was about as she passed the garden, which made her heart sink with -loneliness for some strong man’s love. - -When Kettle Creek was reached and crossed near the Cold Spring, she -decided to rest awhile. After a meal, which she barely tasted, she told -the Indians that she was going for a little walk in the woods. - -“I am safe now,” she said, bitterly; “I have no gold.” - -Past the Cold Spring she went, on and on up the wild, narrow gorge of -what is now called Ole Bull Run, where a dark and dismal hemlock forest -of colossal proportions bent over the torrent, keeping out the light of -day. - -While she was absent, who should appear at the Cold Spring but Doane, -with his colleagues in crime. - -“So he took her after all, with only half the money,” he said, almost -regretfully, to the Indians. - -“I don’t know,” replied one of the bodyguard. “He was very ugly when he -heard it, wanted to slap her, and she ran away in the night, leaving -horses, saddle-bags and gold. Oh, she felt terribly, for she truly loved -the monster.” “said Doane, in surprised tones. - -The Indian pointed up the dark gorge of the run. That moment the outlaw -thought of his dream, of his rescuing her from an angry torrent. -Motioning to her guards to follow, he made haste along the edges of the -stream, slipping often on the moss-grown rocks. Half way to the top of -the gigantic mountain, he heard the roar of a cascade. There was a -great, dark, seething pool beneath. Just as Doane came in sight of this -he beheld, to his horror, Brant’s daughter, hatless and cloakless, -plunging in. It was like a Dryad’s immolation! - -With superhuman effort he reached the brink and sprang after her. He -caught her, as she rose the first time, by her profuse brown hair, but -as he lifted her ashore a snag or branch tore her shirtwaist, so that -her shoulder and back were almost completely bare, just as in the dream. -Aided by the faithful Indians, he laid her tenderly among the moss and -ferns, and poured some rum from a buffalo horn flask down her throat. -She revived and opened her pretty hazel eyes quizzically. - -“Am I at the Indian Garden?” she said. - -“You are with the one who turned his belt there,” answered Doane; “only -this time I don’t want anything for my comrades. I only want you for -myself.” “said Brant’s daughter, having now fully recovered the power of -speech. “When I came back to the Garden and you were not there, I turned -my belt.” “said Doane, “for that last resolve has brought us together. I -should have known from the beginning my destiny was revealed in that -dream.” “said the girl. - -“Of course I will, anywhere with you, and never follow the road again, -or anything not strictly honorable. Wrongdoing, I see now, is caused by -the preponderance of the events of life going against us. Where things -come our way, and there is joy, one can never aspire to ill. Wrong is -the continued disappointment. I could never molest a soul after I saw -you, and have lived by hunting ever since. I made my partners return the -purse of gold; it shall go to your father to buy a farm.” - -Brant’s daughter now motioned to him that she felt like sitting up, and -he propped her back against an old cork pine, kissing her pretty plump -cheeks and shoulders many times as he did so. “And that scoundrel would -have smacked you,” he thought, boiling inwardly. Then taking her cold -hands in his, he said: - -“Out of evil comes good. I do not regret this one robbery, for if I had -not taken that gold for my comrades, some one would have robbed me of -you!” - -[Illustration: SHAWANA] - - XIX - _Riding His Pony_ - - -When Rev. James Martin visited the celebrated Penn’s Cave, in the Spring -of 1795, it was related that he found a small group of Indians encamped -there. That evening, around the campfire, one of the redskins related a -legend of one of the curiosities of the watery cave, the flambuoyant -“Indian Riding Pony” mural-piece which decorates one of the walls. - -Spirited as a Remington, it bursts upon the view, creates a lasting -impression, then vanishes as the power skiff, the “Nita-nee,” draws -nearer. - -According to the old Indians, there lived not far from where the -Karoondinha emerges from the cavern a body of aborigines of the -Susquehannock tribe who made this delightful lowland their permanent -abode. While most of their cabins were huddled near together on the -upper reaches of the stream, there were straggling huts clear to the -Beaver Dams. The finding of arrow points, beads and pottery along the -creek amply attests to this. - -Among the clan was a maiden named Quetajaku, not good to look upon, but -in no way ugly or deformed. In her youth she was light-hearted and -sociable, with a gentle disposition. Yet for some reason she was not -favored by the young bucks. All her contemporaries found lovers and -husbands, but poor Quetajaku was left severely alone. She knew that she -was not beautiful, though she was of good size; she was equally certain -that she was not a physical monster. She could not understand why she -could find no lover, why she was singled out to be a “chauchschisis,” or -old maid. It hurt her pride as a young girl, it broke her heart -completely when she was older. - -Gradually she withdrew from the society of her tribal friends, building -herself a lodge-house on the hill, in what is now the cave orchard. -There she led a very introspective life, grieving over the love that -might have been. To console herself she imagined that some day a -handsome warrior would appear, seek her out, load her with gifts, -overwhelm her with love and carry her away to some distant region in -triumph. He would be handsomer and braver than any youth in the whole -country of the Karoondinha. She would be the most envied of women when -he came. - -This poor little fancy saved her from going stark mad; it remedied the -horror of her lonely lot. Every time the night wind stirred the rude -hempen curtain which hung before the door of her cabin, she would -picture it was the chivalrous stranger knight come to claim her. When it -was cold she drew the folds of her buffalo robe tighter about her as if -it was his arms. - -As time went on she grew happy in her secret lover, whom no other -woman’s flame could equal, whom no one could steal away. She was ever -imagining him saying to her that her looks exactly suited him, that she -was his ideal. - -But like the seeker after Eldorado, years passed, and Quetajaku did not -come nearer to her spirit lover. But her soul kept up the conceit; every -night when she curled herself up to sleep he was the vastness of the -night. - -On one occasion an Indian artist named Naganit, an undersized old -wanderer appeared at the lonely woman’s home. For a living he decorated -pottery, shells and bones, sometimes even painted war pictures on rocks. -Quetajaku was so kind to him that he built himself a lean-to on the -slope of the hill, intending to spend the winter. - -On the long winter evenings the old woman confided to the wanderer the -story of her unhappy life, of her inward consolation. She said that she -had longed to meet an artist who could carry out a certain part of her -dream which had a right to come true. - -When she died she had arranged to be buried in a fissure of rocks which -ran horizontally into one of the walls of the “watery” cave. On the -opposite wall she would like painted in the most brilliant colors a -portrait of a handsome young warrior, with arms outstretched, coming -towards her. - -Naganit said that he understood what she meant exactly, but suggested -that the youth be mounted on a pony, a beast which was coming into use -as a mount for warriors, of which he had lately seen a number in his -travels on the Virginia coast, near Chincoteague. - -This idea was pleasing to Quetajaku, who authorized the stranger to -begin work at once. She had saved up a little property of various kinds; -she promised to bestow all of this on Naganit, except what would be -necessary to bury her, if the picture proved satisfactory. - -The artist rigged up a dog-raft with a scaffold on it, and this he poled -into the place where the fissure was located, the woman accompanying him -the first time, so there would be no mistake. All winter long by -torchlight, he labored away. He used only one color, an intensive -brick-red made from mixing sumac berries, the pollen of the Turk’s Cap -Lily, a small root and the bark of a tree, as being more permanent than -that made from ochers and other ores of stained earth. - -Marvelous and vital was the result of this early impressionist; the -painting had all the action of life. The superb youth in war dress, with -arms outstretched, on the agile war pony, rushing towards the -foreground, almost in the act of leaping from the rocky panel into life, -across the waters of the cave to the arms of his beloved. - -It would make old Quetajaku happy to see it, she who had never known -love or beauty. The youth in the mural typified what Naganit would have -been himself were he the chosen, and what the “bachelor maid” would have -possessed had nature favored her. It was the ideal for two disappointed -souls. - -Breathlessly the old artist ferried Quetajaku to the scene of his -endeavors. When they reached the proper spot he held aloft his quavering -torch. Quetajaku, in order to see more clearly, held her two hands above -her eyes. She gave a little cry of exclamation, then turned and looked -at Naganit intently. Then she dropped her eyes, beginning to cry to -herself, a rare thing for an Indian to do! - -The artist looked at her fine face, down which the tears were streaming, -and asked her the cause of her grief–was the picture _such_ a terrible -disappointment? - -The woman drew herself together, replying that it was grander than she -had anticipated, but the face of Naganit’s, and, strangely enough, the -face she had dreamed of all her life. - -“But I am not the heroic youth you pictured”, said the artist, sadly. “I -am sixty years old, stoop-shouldered, and one leg is shorter than the -other.” “ Naganit looked at the Indian woman. She was not hideous; there -was even a dignity to her large, plain features, her great, gaunt form. - -“I have never received such praise as yours. I always vowed I would love -the woman who really understood me and my art. I am yours. Let us think -no more of funeral decorations, but go to the east, to the land of war -ponies, and ride to endless joy together.” - -Quetajaku, overcome by the majesty of his words, leaned against his -massive shoulder. In that way he poled his dog-raft against the current -to the entrance of the cave. There was a glory in the reflection from -the setting sun over against the east; night would not close in for an -hour or two. And towards the darkening east that night two happy -travelers could be seen wending their way. - -[Illustration] - - XX - _The Little Postmistress_ - - -It was long past dark when Mifflin Sargeant, of the Snow Shoe Land -Company, came within sight of the welcoming lights of Stover’s. For -fourteen miles, through the foothills on the Narrows, he had not seen a -sign of human habitation, except one deserted hunter’s cabin at Yankee -Gap. There was an air of cheerfulness and life about the building he had -arrived at. Several doors opened simultaneously at the signal of his -approach, given by a faithful watchdog, throwing the rich glow of the -fat-lamps and tallow candles across the road. - -The structure, which was very long and two stories high, housed under -its accommodating roofs a tavern, a boarding house, a farmstead, a -lumber camp, a general store, and a post office. It was the last outpost -of civilization in the east end of Brush Valley; beyond were mountains -and wilderness almost to Youngmanstown. Tom Tunis had not yet erected -the substantial structure on the verge of the forest later known as “The -Forest House.” - -A dark-complexioned lad, who later proved to be Reuben Stover, the son -of the landlord, took the horse by the bridle, assisting the young -stranger to dismount. He also helped him to unstrap his saddle-bags, -carrying them into the house. Sargeant noticed, as he passed across the -porch, that the walls were closely hung with stags’ horns, which showed -the prevalence of these noble animals in the neighborhood. - -Old Daddy and Mammy Stover, who ran the quaint caravansery, quickly made -the visitor feel at home. It was after the regular supper-time, but a -fresh repast of bear’s meat and corn bread was cheerfully prepared in -the huge stone chimney. - -The young man explained to his hosts that he had ridden that day from -New Berlin; he had come from Philadelphia to Harrisburg by train, to -Liverpool by packet boat, at which last named place his horse had been -sent on to meet him. He added that he was on his way into the -Alleghenies, where he had recently purchased an interest in the Snow -Shoe development. - -After supper he strolled along the porch to the far end, to the post -office, thinking he would send a letter home. A mail had been brought in -from Rebersburg during the afternoon, consequently the post office, and -not the tavern stand, was the attraction of the crowd this night. - -The narrow room was poorly lighted by fat-lamps, which cast great, -fitful shadows, making grotesques out of the oddly-costumed, bearded -wolf hunters present, who were the principal inhabitants of the -surrounding ridges. A few women, hooded and shawled, were noticeable in -the throng. In a far corner, leaning against the water bench, was young -Reuben, the hostler, tuning up his wheezy fiddle. As many persons as -possible hung over the rude counter, across which the mail was being -delivered, and where many letters were written in reply. Above this -counter were suspended three fat-lamps, attached to grooved poles, -which, by cleverly-devised pulleys, could be lifted to any height -desired. - -[Illustration: SETH NELSON, JR., AFTER A GOOD DAY’S SPORT] - -The young Philadelphian edged his way through the good-humored concourse -to ask permission to use the ink; he had brought his favorite quill pen -and the paper with him. This brought him face to face, across the -counter, with the postmistress. He had not been able to see her before, -as her trim little figure had been wholly obscured by the ponderous -forms that lined the counter. - -Instantly he was charmed by her appearance–it was unusual–by her look of -neatness and alertness. Their eyes met–it was almost with a smile of -mutual recognition. When he asked her if he could borrow the ink, which -was kept in a large earthen pot of famous Sugar Valley make, she smiled -on him again, and he absorbed the charm of her personality anew. - -Though she was below the middle height, her figure was so lithe and -erect that it fully compensated for the lack of inches. She wore a blue -homespun dress, with a neat checked apron over it, the material for -which constituted a luxury, and must have come all the way from -Youngmanstown or Sunbury. Her profuse masses of soft, wavy, light brown -hair, on which the hanging lamps above brought out a glint of gold, was -worn low on her head. Her deepset eyes were a transparent blue, her -features well developed, and when she turned her face in profile, the -high arch of the nose showed at once mental stability and energy. Her -complexion was pink and white. There seemed to be always that kindly -smile playing about the eyes and lips. - -When she pushed the heavy inkwell towards him he noticed that her hands -were very white, the fingers tapering; they were the hands of innate -refinement. - -Almost imperceptibly the young man found himself in conversation with -the little postmistress. Doubtless she was interested to meet an -attractive stranger, one from such a distant city as Philadelphia. While -they talked, the letter was gradually written, sealed, weighed and paid -for–it was before the days of postage stamps, and the postmistress -politely waited on her customers. - -He had told her his name–Mifflin Sargeant–and she had given him -hers–Caroline Hager–and that she was eighteen years of age. He had told -her about his prospective trip into the wilds of Centre County, of the -fierce beasts which he had heard still abounded there. The girl informed -him that he would not have to go farther west to meet wild animals; that -wolf hides by the dozen were brought to Stover’s each winter, where they -were traded in; that old Stover, a justice of the peace, attested to the -bounty warrants–in fact, the wolves howled from the hill across the road -on cold nights when the dogs were particularly restless. - -Her father was a wolf hunter, and would never allow her to go home -alone; consequently, when he could not accompany her she remained over -night in the dwelling which housed the post office. Panthers, too, were -occasionally met with in the locality–in the original surveys this -region was referred to as “Catland”–also huge red bears and the somewhat -smaller black ones. - -If he was going West, she continued in her pretty way, he must not fail -to visit the great limestone cave near where the Brush Mountains ended. -She had a sister married and living not far from it, from whom she had -heard wonderful tales, though she had never been there herself. It was a -cave so vast it had not as yet been fully explored; one could travel for -miles in it in a boat; the Karoondinha, or John Penn’s Creek, had its -source in it; Indians had formerly lived in the dry parts, and wild -beasts. Then she lowered her voice to say that it was now haunted by the -Indians’ spirits. - -And so they talked until a very late hour, the crowd in the post office -melting away, until Jared Hager, the girl’s father, in his wolfskin -coat, appeared to escort her home, to the cabin beyond the waterfall -near the trail to Dolly Hope’s Valley. She was to have a holiday until -the next afternoon. - -The wolf hunter was a courageous-looking man, much darker than his -daughter, with a heavy black beard and bushy eyebrows; in fact, she was -the only brown-haired, blue-eyed one in the entire family connection. He -spoke pleasantly with the young stranger, and then they all said good -night. - -“Don’t forget to visit the great cavern,” Caroline called to the youth. - -“I surely will,” he answered, “and stop here on my way east to tell you -all about it.” - -“That’s good; we want to see you again,” said the girl, as she -disappeared into the gloomy shadows which the shaggy white pines cast -across the road. - -Young Stover was playing “Green Grows the Rushes” on his fiddle in the -tap-room, and Sargeant sat there listening to him, dreaming and musing -all the while, his consciousness singularly alert, until the closing -hour came. - -That night, in the old stained four-poster, in his tiny, cold room, he -slept not at all. “Yet he feared to dream.” Though his thoughts carried -him all over the world, the little postmistress was uppermost in every -fancy. Among the other things, he wished that he had asked her to ride -with him to the cave. They could have visited the subterranean marvels -together. He got out of bed and managed to light the fat lamp. By its -sputtering gleams he wrote her a letter, which came to an abrupt end as -the small supply of ink which he carried with him was exhausted. But as -he repented of the intense sentences penned to a person who knew him so -slightly, he arose again before morning and tore it to bits. - -There was a white frost on the buildings and ground when he came -downstairs. The autumn air was cold, the atmosphere was a hazy, -melancholy gray. There seemed to be a cessation of all the living forces -of nature, as if waiting for the summons of winter. From the chimney of -the old inn came purple smoke, charged with the pungent odor of burning -pine wood. - -With a strange sadness he saddled his horse and resumed his ride towards -the west. He thought constantly of Caroline–so much so that after he had -traveled ten miles he wanted to turn back; he felt miserable without -her. If only she were riding beside him, the two bound for Penn’s Valley -Cave, he could be supremely happy. Without her, he did not care to visit -the cavern, or anything else; so at Jacobsburg he crossed the Nittany -Mountains, leaving the southerly valleys behind. - -He rode up Nittany Valley to Bellefonte, where he met the agent of the -Snow Shoe Company. With this gentleman he visited the vast tract being -opened up to lumbering, mining and colonization. But his thoughts were -elsewhere; they were across the mountains with the little postmistress -of Stover’s. - -Satisfied that his investment would prove remunerative, he left the -development company’s cozy lodge-house, and, with a heart growing -lighter with each mile, started for the east. It was wonderful how -differently–how vastly more beautiful the country seemed on this return -journey. He fully appreciated the wistful loveliness of the fast-fading -autumn foliage, the crispness of the air, the beauty of each stray tuft -of asters, the last survivors of the wild flowers along the trail. The -world was full of joy, everything was in harmony. - -Again it was after nightfall when he reined his horse in front of -Stover’s long, rambling public house. This time two doors opened -simultaneously, sending forth golden lights and shadows. One was from -the tap-room, where the hostler emerged; the other from the post office, -bringing little Caroline. There was no mail that night, consequently the -office was practically deserted; she had time to come out and greet her -much-admired friend. And let it be said that ever since she had seen him -her heart was agog with the image of Mifflin Sargeant. She was canny -enough to appreciate such a man; besides, he was a good-looking youth -though perhaps of a less robust type than those most admired in the Red -Hills. - -After cordial greetings the young man ate supper, after which he -repaired to the post office. By that time the last straggler was gone; -he had a blissful evening with his fair Caroline. She anticipated his -coming, being somewhat of a _psychic_, and had arranged to spend the -night with the Stovers. There was no hurry to retire; when they went out -on the porch, preparatory to locking up, the hunter’s moon was sinking -behind the western knobs, which rose like the pyramids of Egypt against -the sky line. - -Sargeant lingered around the old house for three days; when he departed -it was with extreme reluctance. Seeing Caroline again in the future -appeared like something too good to be true, so down-hearted was he at -the parting. But he had arranged to come back the following autumn, -bringing an extra horse with him, and the two would ride to the -wonderful cavern in Penn’s Valley and explore to the ends its stygian -depths. Meanwhile they would make most of their separation through a -regular correspondence. - -Despite glances, pressure of hands, chance caresses, and evident -happiness in one another’s society, not a word of love had passed -between the pair. That was why the pain of parting was so intense. If -Caroline could have remembered one loving phrase, then she would have -felt that she had something tangible on which to hang her hopes. If the -young Philadelphian had unburdened his heart by telling her that he -loved her, and her alone, and heard her words of affirmation, the world -out into which he was riding would have seemed less blank. - -But underneath his love, burning like a hot branding iron, was his -consciousness of class, his fear of the consequences if he took to the -great city a bride from another sphere. As an only son, he could not -picture himself deserting his widowed mother and sisters, and living at -Snow Shoe; there he was sure that Caroline would be happy. Neither could -he see permanent peace of mind if he married her and brought her into -his exclusive circles in the Quaker City. - -As he was an honorable young man, and his love was real, making her -truly and always happy was the solitary consideration. These thoughts -marred the parting; they blistered and ravaged his spirit on the whole -dreary way back to Liverpool. There his colored servant, an antic -darkey, was waiting at the old Susquehanna House to ride the horse to -Philadelphia. - -The young man boarded the packet, riding on it to Harrisburg, where he -took the steam train for home. In one way he was happier than ever -before in his life, for he had found love; in another he was the most -dejected of men, for his beloved might never be his own. - -He seemed gayer and stronger to his family; evidently the trip into the -wilderness had done him good. He had begun his letter-writing to -Caroline promptly. It was his great solace in his heart perplexity. She -wrote a very good letter, very tender and sympathetic; the handwriting -was clear, almost masculine, denoting the bravery of her spirit. - -During the winter he was called upon through his sisters to mingle much -with the society of the city. He met many beautiful and attractive young -women, but for him the die of love had been cast. He was Caroline’s -irretrievably. Absence made his love firmer, yet the solution of it all -the more enigmatical. - -The time passed on apace. Another autumn set in, but on account of -important business matters it was not until December that Sargeant -departed for the wilds of mountainous Pennsylvania. But he could spend -Christmas with his love. - -This time he sent two horses ahead to Liverpool. When he reached the -queer old river town he dropped into an old saddlery shop, where the -canal-boat drivers had their harness mended, and purchased a neat side -saddle, all studded with brass-headed nails. This he tied on behind his -servant’s saddle. - -The two horsemen started up the beautiful West Mahantango, crossing the -Shade Mountain to Swinefordstown, thence along the edge of Jack’s -Mountain, by the gently flowing Karoondinha, to Hartley Hall and the -Narrows, through the Fox Gap and Minnick’s Gap, a slightly shorter route -to Stover’s. - -On his previous trip he had ridden along the river to Selin’s Grove, -across Chestnut Ridge to New Berlin, over Shamokin Ridge to -Youngmanstown, and from there to the Narrows; he was in no hurry; no -dearly loved girl was waiting for him in those days. - -Caroline, looking prettier than ever–she was a trifle plumper and redder -cheeked–was at the post office steps to greet him. Despite his avoidance -of words of love, she was certain of his inmost feelings, and opined -that somehow the ultimate result would be well. - -Sargeant had arranged to arrive on a Saturday evening, so that they -could begin their ride to the cave that night after the post office -closed, and be there bright and early Sunday morning. For this reason he -had traveled by very easy stages from Hartley Hall, that the horses -might be fresh for their added journey. - -Sargeant’s devoted Negro factotum was taken somewhat aback when he saw -how attentive the young man was to the girl, and marveled at the -mountain maid’s rare beauty. Upon instructions from his master, he set -about to changing the saddles, placing the brand new lady’s saddle on -the horse he had been riding. - -It was not long until the tiny post office was closed for the night, and -Caroline emerged, wearing a many-caped red riding coat, the hood of -which she threw over her head to keep the wavy, chestnut hair in place. -She climbed into the saddle gracefully–she seemed a natural -horse-woman–and soon the loving pair were cantering up the road towards -Wolfe’s Store, Rebersburg and the cave. - -It was not quite daybreak when they passed the home of old Jacob -Harshbarger, the tenant of the “cave farm;” a Creeley rooster was -crowing lustily in the barnyard, the unmilked cattle of the ancient -black breed shook their shaggy heads lazily; no one was up. - -The young couple had planned to visit the cave, breakfast, and spend the -day with Caroline’s sister, who lived not far away at Centre Hill, and -ride leisurely back to Stover’s in the late afternoon. It had been a -very cold all-night ride, but they had been so happy that it seemed -brief and free from all disagreeable physical sensations. - -In those days there was no boat in the cave, and no guides; consequently -all intending visitors had to bring their own torches. This Caroline had -seen to, and in her leisure moments for weeks before her lover’s coming, -had been arranging a supply of rich pine lights that would see them -safely through the gloomy labyrinths. - -They fed their horses and then tied them to the fence of the orchard -which surrounded the entrance to the “dry” cave, which had been recently -set out. Several big original white pines grew along the road, and would -give the horses shelter in case it turned out to be a windy day. The -young couple strolled through the orchard, and down the steep path to -the mouth of the “watery” cave, where they gazed for some minutes at the -expanse of greenish water, the high span of the arched roof, the general -impressiveness of the scene, so like the stage setting of some elfin -drama. - -They sat on the dead grass, near this entrance, eating a light breakfast -with relish. Then they wended their way up the hill to the circular -“hole in the ground” which formed the doorway to the “dry” cave. The -torches were carefully lit, the supply of fresh ones was tied in a -bundle about Sargeant’s waist. The burning pine gave forth an aromatic -odor and a mellow light. They descended through the narrow opening, the -young man going ahead and helping his sweetheart after him. Down the -spiral passageway they went, until at length they came into a larger -chamber. Here the torches cast unearthly shadows, bats flitted about; -some small animal ran past them into an aperture at a far corner. -Sargeant declared that he believed the elusive creature a fox, and he -followed in the direction in which it had gone. - -When he came to this opening he peered through it, finding that it led -to an inner chamber of impressive proportions. He went back, taking -Caroline by the hand, and led her to the narrow chamber, into which they -both entered. Once in the interior room, they were amazed by its size, -the height of its roof, the beauty of the stalactite formations. They -sat down on a fallen stalagmite, holding aloft their torches, absorbed -by the beauty of the scene. - -In the midst of their musing, a sudden gust of wind blew out their -lights. They were in utter darkness. The young lover bade his sweetheart -be unafraid, while he reached his hand in his pocket for the matches. -They were primitive affairs, the few he had, and he could not make them -light. He had not counted on the use of the matches, as he thought one -torch could be lit from another; consequently had brought so few with -him. Finally he lit a match, but the dampness extinguished it before he -could ignite his torch. - -When the last match failed, it seemed as if the couple were in a serious -predicament. They first shouted at the top of their voices but only -empty echoes answered them. They fumbled about in the chamber, stumbling -over rocks and stalagmites, their eyes refusing to become accustomed to -the profound blackness. Try as they would, they could not locate the -passage that led from the room they were in to the outer apartment. - -Caroline, little heroine that she was, made no complaint. If she had any -secret fears, her lover effectually quenched them by telling her that -the presence of the two saddle horses tied to the orchard fence would -acquaint the Harshbarger family of their presence in the cave. - -“Surely,” he went on, “we will be rescued in a few hours. There’s bound -to be some member of the household or some hunter see those horses.” - -But the hours passed, and with them came no intimations of rescue. But -the two “prisoners” loved one another, time was nothing to them. In the -outer world, both thought, but neither made bold to say, that they might -have to separate–in the cave they were one in purpose, one in love. How -gloriously happy they were! But they did get a trifle hungry, but that -was appeased at first by the remnants of the breakfast provisions, which -they luckily still had in a little bundle. - -When sufficient time had elapsed for night to set in, they fell asleep, -and in each other’s arms. Caroline’s last conscious moment was to feel -her lover’s kisses. When they awoke, many hours afterwards, they were -hungrier than ever, and thirsty. Sargeant fumbled about, locating a -small pool of water, where the two quenched their thirsts. But still -they were happy, come what may. - -They would be rescued, that was certain, unless the horses had broken -loose and run away, but there was small chance of that. They had been -securely tied. It was strange that no one had seen the steeds in so long -a time, with the farmhouse less than a quarter of a mile away–but it was -at the foot of the hill. - -Hunger grew apace with every hour. After a while drinking water could -not sate it. It throbbed and ached, it became a dull pain that only love -could triumph over. Again enough hours elapsed to bring sleep, but it -was harder to find repose, though Sargeant’s kisses were marvelous -recompense. Caroline never whimpered from lack of food. To be with her -lover was all she asked. She had prayed for over a year to be with him -again. She would be glad to die at his side, even of starvation. - -The young man was content; hunger was less a pain to him than had been -the past fourteen months’ separation. - -Again came what they supposed to be morning. They knew that there must -be some way out near at hand, as the air was so pure. They shouted, but -the dull echoes were their only reward. Strangely enough, they had never -felt another cold gust like the one which had blown out their torches. -Could the shade of one of the old-time Indians who had fought for -possession of the cave been perpetrator of the trick? suggested lovely -little Caroline. If so, she thought to herself, he had helped her, not -harmed her, for could there be in the world a sensation half so sweet as -sinking to rest in her lover’s arms? - -Meanwhile the world outside the cavern had been going its way. Shortly -after the young equestrian passed the Harshbarger dwelling, all the -family had come out, and, after attending to their farm duties, driven -off to the Seven Mountains, where the sons of the family maintained a -hunting camp on Cherry Run, on the other side of High Valley. - -The boys had killed an elk, consequently the guests remained longer than -expected, to partake of a grand Christmas feast. They tarried at the -camp all of that day, all of the next; it was not until early on the -morning of the third day that they started back to the Penn’s Creek -farm. - -They had arranged with a neighbor’s boy, Mosey Scull, who lived further -along the creek below the farm house, to do the feeding in their -absence; it was winter, there was no need to hurry home. - -When they got home they found Mosey in the act of watering two very -dejected and dirty looking horses with saddles on their backs. - -“Where did they come from?” shouted the big freight-wagon load in -unison. - -“I found them tied to the fence up at the orchard. By the way they act -I’d think they hadn’t been watered or fed for several days,” replied the -boy. - -“You dummy!” said old Harshbarger, in Dutch. “Somebody’s in that cave, -and got lost, and can’t get out.” - -He jumped from the heavy wagon and ran to a corner of the corncrib, -where he kept a stock of torches. Then he hurried up the steep hill -towards the entrance to the “dry” cave. The big man was panting when he -reached the opening, where he paused a moment to kindle a torch with his -flints. Then he lowered himself into the aperture, shouting at the top -of his voice, “Hello! Hello! Hello!” - -It was not until he had gotten into the first chamber that the captives -in the inner room could hear him. Sargeant had been sitting with his -back propped against the cavern wall, while Caroline, very pale and -white-lipped, was lying across his knees, gazing up into the darkness, -imagining that she could see his face. - -When they heard the cheery shouts of their deliverer they did not -instantly attempt to scramble to their feet. Instead the young lover -bent over; his lips touched Caroline’s, who instinctively had raised her -face to meet his. As his lips touched hers, he whispered: - -“I love you, darling, with all my heart. We will be married when we get -out of here.” - -Caroline had time to say: “You are my only love,” before their lips came -together. - -They were in that position when the flare of Farmer Harshbarger’s torch -lit up their hiding place. Pretty soon they were on their feet and, with -their rescuer, figuring out just how long they had been in their -prison–their prison of love. - -They had gone into the cave on the morning of December 24th; it was now -the morning of the 27th; in fact almost noon. Christmas had come and -gone. - -Caroline still had enough strength in reserve to enable her to climb up -the tortuous passage, though her lover did help her some, as all lovers -should. - -The farmer’s wife had some coffee and buckwheat cakes ready when they -arrived at the mansion; which the erstwhile captives of Penn’s Cave sat -down to enjoy. - -As they were eating, another of Harshbarger’s sons rode up on horseback. -He had been to the post office at Earlysburg. He handed Sargeant a tiny, -roughly typed newspaper published in Millheim. Across the front page, in -letters larger than usual, were the words, “Mexico Declares War on the -United States.” - -Sargeant scanned the headline intently, then laid the paper on the -table. - -“Our country has been drawn into a war with Mexico,” he said, his voice -trembling with emotion. “I had hoped it might be avoided. I am First -Lieutenant of the Lafayette Greys; I fear I’ll have to go.” - -[Illustration: BIG SNYDER COUNTY WILD CAT] - -Caroline lost the color which had come back to her pretty cheeks since -emerging from the underground dungeon. She reached over, grasping her -lover’s now clammy hand. Then, noticing that no one was listening, she -said, faintly: - -“It is terrible to have you leave me now; but won’t you marry me before -you go? I do love you.” “replied Sargeant, with enthusiasm. “I will have -more to fight for, with you at home bearing my name.” - -Love had broken the bonds of caste. - -[Illustration] - - XXI - _The Silent Friend_ - - -Every one who has hunted in the “Seven Brothers’”, as the Seven -Mountains are called in Central Pennsylvania, has heard of Daniel -Karstetter, the famous Nimrod. The Seven Mountains comprise the Path -Valley, Short Bald, Thick Head, Sand, Shade and Tussey Mountains. Though -three-quarters of a century has passed since he was in his hey-day as a -slayer of big game, his fame is undiminished. Anecdotes of his prowess -are related in every hunting camp; by one and all he has been acclaimed -the greatest hunter that the Seven Brothers ever produced. - -The great Nimrod, who lived to a very advanced age, was born in 1818 on -the banks of Pine Creek, a: the Blue Rock, half a mile below the present -town of Coburn. In addition to his hunting prowess, he was interested in -psychic experiences, and was as prone to discuss his adventures with -supernatural agencies as his conflicts with the wild denizens of the -forests. There was a particular ghost story which he loved dearly to -relate. - -Accompanied by his younger brother Jacob, he had been attending a dance -one night across the mountains, in the environs of the town of Milroy, -for like all the backwoods boys of his time, he was adept in the art of -terpsichore. The long journey was made on horseback, the lads being -mounted on stout Conestoga chargers. - -The homeward ride was commenced after midnight, the two brothers riding -along the dark trail in single file. In the wide flat on the top of the -“Big Mountain” Daniel fell into a doze. When he awoke, his mount having -stumbled on a stone, Jacob was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that his -brother had put his horse to trot and gone on ahead, Daniel dismissed -the matter of his absence from his mind. - -As he was riding down the steep slope of the mountain, he noticed a -horseman waiting for him on the path. When they came abreast the other -rider fell in beside him, skillfully guiding his horse so that it did -not encounter the dense foliage which lined the narrow way. Daniel -supposed the party to be his brother, although the unknown kept his -lynx-skin collar turned up, and his felt cap was pulled down level with -his eyes. It was pitchy dark, so to make sure, Daniel called out: - -“Is that you, Jacob?” - -His companion did not reply, so the young man repeated his query in -still louder tones, but all he heard was the crunching of the horses’ -hoofs on the pebbly road. - -Daniel Karstetter, master slayer of panthers, bears and wolves, was no -coward, though on this occasion he felt uneasy. Yet he disliked picking -a quarrel with the silent man at his side, who clearly was not his -brother, and he feared to put his horse to a gallop on the steep, uneven -roadway. The trip home never before seemed of such interminable length. -For the greater part of the distance Daniel made no attempt to converse -with his unsociable comrade. Finally, he heaved a sigh of relief when he -saw a light gleaming in the horse stable at the home farm. When he -reached the barnyard gate he dismounted to let down the bars, while the -stranger apparently vanished in the gloom. - -Daniel led his mount to the horse stable, where he found his brother -Jacob sitting by the old tin lantern, fast asleep. He awakened him and -asked him when he had gotten home. Jacob stated that his horse had been -feeling good, so he let him canter all the way. He had been sleeping, -but judged that he had been home at least half an hour. He had met no -horseman on the road. - -Daniel was convinced that his companion had been a ghost, or, as they -are called in the “Seven Brothers,” a _gshpook_. But he made no further -comment that night. - -A year afterwards, in coming back alone from a dance in Stone Valley, he -was again joined by the silent horseman, who followed him to his -barnyard gate. He gave up going to dances on that account. At least once -a year, or as long as he was able to go out at night, he met the ghostly -rider. Sometimes, when tramping along on foot after a hunt, or, in later -years, coming back from market at Bellefonte in his Jenny Lind, he would -find the silent horseman at his side. After the first experience, he -never attempted to speak to the night rider, but he became convinced -that it meant him no harm. - -As his prowess as a hunter became recognized, he had many jealous rivals -among the less successful Nimrods. In those old days threats of all -kinds were freely made. He heard on several occasions that certain -hunters were setting out to “fix” him. But a man who could wrestle with -panthers and bears knew no such thing as fear. - -One night, while tramping along in Green’s Valley, he was startled by -some one in the path ahead of him shouting out in Pennsylvania German, -“Hands up!” He was on the point of dropping his rifle, when he heard the -rattle of hoof beats back of him. The silent horseman in an instant was -by his side, the dark horse pawing the earth with his giant hoofs. There -was a crackling of brush in the path ahead, and no more threats of _hend -uff_. - -The ghostly rider followed Daniel to his barn yard gate, but was gone -before he could utter a word of thanks. As the result of this adventure, -he became imbued with the idea that he possessed a charmed life. It gave -him added courage in his many encounters with panthers, the fierce red -bears and lynxes. - -Apart from his love of hunting the more dangerous animals, Daniel -enjoyed the sport of deer-stalking. He maintained several licks, one of -them in a patch of low ground over the hill from the entrance to the -“dry” part of Penn’s Cave. At this spot he constructed a blind, or -platform, between the two ancient tupelo trees, about twenty feet from -the ground, and many were the huge white-faced stags which fell to his -unerring bullets during the rutting season. - -One cold night, according to an anecdote frequently related by one of -his descendants, while perched in his eyrie overlooking the natural -clearing which constituted the _lick_, and in sight of a path frequented -by the fiercer beasts, which led to the opening of the “dry” cave, he -saw, about midnight, a huge pantheress, followed by a large male of the -same species, come out into the open. - -“The pantheress strolled from the path,” so the story went, "and came -and laid herself down at the roots of the tupelo trees, while the -panther remained in the path, and seemed to be listening to some noise -as yet inaudible to the hunter. - -"Daniel soon heard a distant roaring; it seemed to come from the very -summit of the Brush Mountain, and immediately the pantheress answered -it. The the panther on the path, his jealousy aroused, commenced to roar -with a voice so loud that the frightened hunter almost let go his trusty -rifle and held tighter to the railing of his blind, lest he might tumble -to the earth. As the voice of the animal that he had heard in the -distance gradually approached, the pantheress welcomed him with renewed -roarings, and the panther, restless, went and came from the path to his -flirtatious flame, as though he wished her to keep silence, as though to -say, ‘Let him come if he dares; he will find his match’. - -"In about an hour a panther, with mouse-color, or grey coat, stepped out -of the forest, and stood in the full moonlight on the other side of the -cleared place, the moonbeams illuminating his form with a glow like -phosphorescence. The pantheress, eyeing him with admiration, raised -herself to go to him, but the panther, divining her intent, rushed -before her and marched right at his adversary. With measured step and -slow, they approached to within a dozen paces of each other, their -smooth, round heads high in the air, their bulging yellow eyes gleaming, -their long, tufted tails slowly sweeping down the brittle asters that -grew about them. They crouched to the earth–a moment’s pause–and then -they bounded with a hellish scream high in the air and rolled on the -ground, locked in their last embrace. - -"The battle was long and fearful, to the amazed and spellbound witness -of this midnight duel. Even if he had so wished, he could not have taken -steady enough aim to fire. But he preferred to watch the combat, while -the moonlight lasted. The bones of the two combatants cracked under -their powerful jaws, their talons painted the frosty ground with blood, -and their outcries, now gutteral, now sharp and loud, told their rage -and agony. - -"At the beginning of the contest the pantheress crouched herself on her -belly, with her eyes fixed upon the gladiators, and all the while the -battle raged, manifested by the slow, catlike motion of her tail, the -pleasure she felt at the spectacle. When the scene closed, and all was -quiet and silent and deathlike on the lick, and the moon had commenced -to wane, she cautiously approached the battle-ground and, sniffing the -lifeless bodies of her two lovers, walked leisurely to a nearby oak, -where she stood on her hind feet, sharpening her fore claws on the bark. - -"She glared up ferociously at the hunter in the blind, as if she meant -to vent her anger by climbing after him. In the moonlight her golden -eyes appeared so terrifying that Daniel dropped his rifle, and it fell -to the earth with a sickening thud. As he reached after it, the flimsy -railing gave way and he fell, literally into the arms of the pantheress. -At that moment the rumble of horses’ hoofs, like thunder on some distant -mountain, was heard. Just as the panther was about to rend the helpless -Nimrod to bits, the unknown rider came into view. Scowling at the -intruder, mounted on his huge black horse, the brute abandoned its prey -and ambled off up the hill in the direction of the dry cave. - -"Daniel seized his firearm and sent a bullet after her retreating form, -but it apparently went wild of its mark. Meanwhile, before he had time -to express his gratitude to the strange deliverer, he had vanished. - -"Daniel was dumbfounded. As soon as he had recovered from the -blood-curdling episodes, he built a small fire near the mammoth -carcasses, where he warmed his much benumbed hands. Then he examined the -dead panthers, but found that their hides were too badly torn to warrant -skinning. - -"Disgusted at not getting his deer, and being even cheated out of the -panther pelts, he dragged the ghastly remains of the erstwhile kings of -the forest by their tails to the edge of the entrance to the dry cave. -There he cut off the long ears in order to collect the bounty, and then -shoved the carcasses into the opening. They fell with sickening thuds -into the chamber beneath, to the evident horror of the pantheress, which -uttered a couple of piercing screams as the horrid remnants of the -recent battle royal landed in her vicinity. - -“Then Jacob shouldered his rifle and started out in search of small game -for breakfast. That night he went to another of his licks on Elk Creek, -near Fulmer’s Sink, where he killed four superb stags,” so the story -concludes. - -But to his dying day he always placed the battle of the panthers first -of all his hunting adventures. And his faith in the unknown horseman as -his deliverer and good genius became the absorbing, all-pervading -influence of his life. - - XXII - _The Fountain of Youth_ - - -Old Chief Wisamek, of the Kittochtinny Indians, had lost his spouse. He -was close to sixty years of age, which was old for a redman, especially -one who had led the hard life of a warrior, exposed to all kinds of -weather, fasts and forced marches. Though he felt terribly lonely and -depressed in his state of widowerhood, the thought of discarding the -fidelity of the eagle, which, if bereaved, never takes a second mate, -and was the noble bird he worshipped, seemed repugnant to him until he -happened to see the fair and buxom maid Annapalpeteu. - -He was rheumatic, walking with difficulty; he tired easily, was fretful, -all sure signs of increasing age; but what upset him most was the sight -of his reflection in his favorite pool, a haggard, weazened, wrinkled -face, with a nose like the beak of an eagle, and glazed eyes as -colorless as clay. When he opened his mouth the reflected image seemed -to be mostly toothless, the lips were blue and thin. He had noticed that -he did not need to pluck the hairs from his skull any more to give -prominence to his warrior’s top-knot; the proud tuft itself was growing -sparse and weak; to keep it erect he was now compelled to braid it with -hair from a buffalo’s tail. - -Brave warrior that he was, he hated to pay his court to the lovely -Annapalpeteu when on all sides he saw stalwart, six-foot youths, masses -of sinews and muscle, clear-eyed, firm-lipped, always ambitious and -high-spirited, more suited to be her companions. - -But one afternoon he saw his copper-colored love sitting by the side of -the Bohundy Creek, beating maize in a wooden trough. Her entire costume -consisted of a tight petticoat of blue cloth, hardly reaching to the -knees, and without any ruffles. Her cheeks and forehead were neatly -daubed with red. She seemed very well content with her coadjutor, a -bright young fellow, who, except for two wild cat hides appropriately -distributed, was quite as naked as the ingenuous beauty. That -Annapalpeteu had a cavalier was now certain, and immediately it rankled -what flames remained in his jaded body; he must have her at any cost. - -Down by the Conadogwinet, across the Broad Mountain, lived Mbison, a -wise man. Old Wisamek would go there and consult him, perhaps obtain -from him some potion to permanently restore at least a few of the fires -of his lost youth. Though his will power had been appreciably slackening -of late years, he acted with alacrity on the idea of visiting the -soothsayer. Before sundown he was on his way to the south, accompanied -by several faithful henchmen. Carrying a long ironwood staff, he moved -on with unwonted agility; it was very dark, and the path difficult to -follow, when he finally consented to bivouac for the night. The next -morning found him so stiff that he could hardly clamber to his feet. His -henchmen assisted him, though they begged him to rest for a day. But his -will forced him on; he wanted to be virile and win the beautiful -Annapalpeteu. - -The journey, which consumed a week, cost the aged Strephon a world of -effort. But as he had been indefatigable in his youth, he was determined -to reach the wise man’s headquarters walking like a warrior, and not -carried there on a litter like an old woman. Bravely he forged ahead, -his aching joints paining miserably, until at length he came in sight of -his Promised Land. - -The soothsayer, who had been apprised of his coming by a dream, was in -front of his substantial lodge-house to greet him. Seldom had he -received a more distinguished client than Wisamek, so he welcomed him -with marked courtesy and deference. - -After the first formalities, the old chief, who had restrained himself -with difficulty, asked how he could be restored to a youthful condition, -so that he could rightfully marry a beautiful maiden of eighteen -summers. The wise man, who had encountered similar supplicants in the -past, informed him that the task was a comparatively easy one. It would -involve, however, however, first drinking the waters of the Warm Springs -(in what is now Perry County), then another journey across mountains. - -Wisamek shouted for joy when he heard these words, and impatiently -demanded where he would have to go to be finally restored to youth. - -“Across many high mountain ranges, across many broad valleys, across -many swift streams, through a country covered with dark forests and -filled with wild beasts, to the northwest of here, is a wonderful -cavern. In it rises a deep stream of greenish color, clear as crystal, -the fountain of youth. At its heading you will find a very old man, -Gamunk, who knows the formula. Give him this talisman, and he will allow -you to bathe in the marvelous waters and be young again.” - -With the final words he handed Wisamek a red bear’s tooth, on which was -cleverly carved the form of an athletic youth. The old chief’s hands -trembled so much that he almost dropped the precious fetich. But he soon -recovered his self-control and thanked the wise man. Then he ordered his -henchmen to give the soothsayer gifts, which they did, loading him with -beads, pottery, wampum and rare furs. - -Despite the invitation to remain until he was completely rested, Wisamek -determined to depart at once for the warm springs and the fountain of -youth. He drank the warm water copiously, enjoying the beautiful -surroundings at the springs. He was so stimulated by his high hope and -the mineral waters that he climbed the steep ridges, crossed the -turbulent streams and put up with the other inconveniences of the long -march much better than might have been the case. During the entire -journey he sang Indian love songs, strains which had not passed his lips -in thirty years. - -His followers, gossiping among themselves, declared that he looked -better already. Perhaps he would not have to bathe in the fountain after -all. He might resume his youth, because he willed it so. Indians were -strong believers in the power of mind over matter. - -When he reached the vicinity of the cave he was fortunate enough to meet -the aged Indian who was its guardian. Though his hair was snow white and -he said he was so old that he had lost count of the years, Gamunk’s -carriage was erect, his complexion smooth, his eyes clear and kindly. He -walked along with a swinging stride, very different from Wisamek’s -mental picture of him. The would-be bridegroom, who handed him the -talisman, was quick to impart his mission to his new-found friend. - -“It is true,” he replied, “after a day and a night’s immersion in the -cave’s water you will emerge with all the appearance of youth. There is -absolutely no doubt of it. Thousands have been here before.” - -With these reassuring words Wisamek again leaped for joy, gyrating like -a young brave at a cantico. - -The party, accompanied by the old guardian, quickly arrived at the -cave’s main opening, where beneath them lay stretched the calm, -mirror-like expanse of greenish water. - -“Can I begin the bath now?” asked the chief, impatiently. “I am anxious -to throw off the odious appearance of age.” “replied the old watchman, -who took him by the hand, leading to the ledge where it was highest -above the water. “Jump off here,” he said quietly. Wisamek, who had been -a great swimmer in his youth and was absolutely fearless of the water, -replied that he would do so. “But remember you must remain in the water -without food until this hour tomorrow,” said the guardian. - -As he leaped into the watery depths the chief shouted he would remain -twice as long if he could be young again. Wisamek was true to his -instructions; there was too much at stake; he dared not falter. - -The next morning his henchmen were at the cave’s mouth to greet his -reappearance. They were startled to see, climbing up the ledge with -alacrity, a tall and handsome man, as young looking as themselves. There -was a smile on the full, red lips, a twinkle in the clear eye of the -re-made warrior as he stood among them, physically a prince among men. - -The homeward journey was made with rapidity. Wisamek traveled so fast -that he played out his henchmen who were half his age. - -Annapalpeteu, who was seated in front of her parents’ cabin weaving a -garment, noticed a youth of great physical beauty approaching, at the -head of Chief Wisamek’s clansmen. She wondered who he could be, as he -wore Wisamek’s headdress of feathers of the osprey or “sea eagle.” When -he drew near he saluted her, and, not giving her time to answer, -joyfully shouted: “Don’t you recognize me? I am your good friend -Wisamek, come back to win your love, after a refreshing journey through -the distant forests.” - -Annapalpeteu, who was a sensible enough girl to have admired the great -warrior for his prowess, even though she had never thought of him -seriously as a lover, was now instantly smitten by his engaging -appearance. The henchmen withdrew, leaving the couple together. They -made marked progress with their romance; words of love were mentioned -before they parted. - -It was not long before the betrothal was announced, followed shortly by -the wedding festival. At the nuptials the bridegroom’s appearance was -the marvel of all present. It was hinted that he had been somewhere and -renewed his youth, but as the henchmen were sworn to secrecy, how it had -been done was not revealed. - -The young bride seemed radiantly happy. She had every reason to be; the -other Indian maids whispered from lip to lip, was she not marrying the -greatest warrior and hunter of his generation, the handsomest man in a -hundred tribes? Secretly envied by all of her age, possessing her -stalwart prize, the fair bride started on her honeymoon, showered with -acorns and good wishes. - -So far as is known the wedding trip passed off blissfully. There were -smiles on the bright faces of both bride and groom when they returned to -their spacious new lodge-house, which the tribe had erected for them in -their absence, by the banks of the sparkling Bohundy. But the course of -life did not run smoothly for the pair. Though outwardly Wisamek was the -handsomest and most youthful-looking of men, he was still an old man at -heart. Annapalpeteu was as pleasure-loving as she was beautiful. She -wanted to dance and sing and mingle with youthful company. She wanted -her good time in life; her joy of living was at its height, her sense of -enjoyment at its zenith. - -[Illustration: BLACK BEAR, KILLED IN SUGAR VALLEY] - -On the other hand, Wisamek hated all forms of gaieties or youthful -amusements. He wanted to sit about the lodge-house in the sun, telling -of his warlike triumphs of other days; he wanted to sleep much, he hated -noise and excitement. - -Annapalpeteu, dutiful wife that she was, tried to please him, but in due -course of time both husband and wife realized that romance was dying, -that they were drifting apart. Wisamek was even more aware of it than -his wife. It worried him greatly, his dreams were of an unhappy nature. -He pictured the end of the trail, with his wife, Annapalpeteu, in love -with some one else of her own age, some one whose heart was young. He -had spells of moodiness and irritability, as well as several serious -quarrels with his wife, whom he accused of caring less for him than -formerly. - -The relations became so strained that life in the commodious lodge-house -was unbearable. At length it occurred to Wisamek that he might again -visit the fountain of youth, this time to revive his soul. Perhaps he -had not remained in the water long enough to touch the spirit within. He -informed his spouse that he was going on a long journey on invitation of -the war chief of a distant tribe, and that she must accompany him. He -was insanely jealous of her now. He could not bear her out of his sight. -He imagined she had a young lover back of every tree, though she was -honor personified. - -The trip was made pleasantly enough, as the husband was in better -spirits than usual. Annapalpeteu enjoyed the waters of the warm springs, -would liked to have tarried. He thought he saw the surcease of his -troubles ahead of him! - -When he reached the Beaver Dam Meadows, at the foot of Egg Hill, near -the site of the present town of Spring Mills, beautiful level flats -which in those days were a favorite camping ground for the red men, he -requested the beautiful Annapalpeteu to remain there for a few days, -that he was going through a hostile country, he would not jeopardize her -safety. He was going on an important mission that would make her love -him more than ever when he returned. In reality no unfriendly Indians -were about, but in order to give a look of truth to his story he left -her in charge of a strong bodyguard. - -Wisamek’s conduct of late had been so peculiar that his wife was not -sorry to see her lord and master go away. Handsome though he was, a -spiritual barrier had arisen between them which grew more insurmountable -with each succeeding day. Yet, on this occasion, when he was out of her -sight, she felt apprehensive about him. She had a strange presentiment -that she would never see him again. - -Wisamek was filled with hopes; his spirits had never been higher, as he -strode along, followed by his henchmen. When he reached the top of the -path which led to the mouth of the enchanted cave he met old Gamunk, the -guardian. The aged redman expressed surprise at seeing him again. - -“I have come for a very peculiar reason,” he said. “The bath which I -took last year outwardly made me young, but only _outwardly_. Within I -am as withered and joyless as a centenarian. I want to bathe once more, -to try to revive the old light in my soul.” - -Gamunk shook his head. “You may succeed; I hope you will. I never heard -of any one daring to take a second bath in these waters. The tradition -of the hereditary guardians, of whom I am the hundredth in direct -succession, has it that it would be fatal to take a second immersion, -especially to remain in the water for twenty-four hours.” - -Then he asked Wisamek for the talisman which gave him the right to -bathe. Wisamek drew himself up proudly, and, with a gesture of his hand -indicating disdain, said he had no talisman, that he would bathe anyhow. -He advanced to the brink and plunged in. Until the same hour the next -day he floated and paddled about the greenish depths, filled with -expectancy. For some reason it seemed longer this time than on the -previous visit. - -At last, by the light which filtered down through the treetops at the -cave’s mouth, he knew that the hour had come for him to emerge–emerge as -Chief Wisamek–young in heart as in body. Proudly he grasped the rocky -ledge and swung himself out on dry land. He arose to his feet. His head -seemed very light and giddy. He fancied he saw visions of his old -conquests, old loves. There was the sound of music in the air. Was it -the martial drums, played to welcome the conqueror, or the wind surging -through the feathery tops of the maple and linden trees at the mouth of -the cave? He started to climb the steep path. He seemed to be treading -the air. Was it the buoyant steps of youth come again? He seemed to -float rather than walk. The sunlight blinded his eyes. Suddenly he had a -flash of normal consciousness. He dropped to the ground with a thud like -an old pine falling. Then all was blackness, silence. Jaybirds -complaining in the treetops alone broke the stillness. - -His bodyguards, who were waiting for him at old Gamunk’s lodge-house, -close to where the hotel now stands, became impatient at his -non-appearance, as the hour was past. Accompanied by the venerable -watchman they started down the path. To their horror they saw the dead -body of a hideous, wrinkled old man, all skin and bones, like a -desiccated mummy, lying stretched out across it, a few steps from the -entrance to the cave. When they approached closely they noticed several -familiar tattoo marks on the forehead, which identified the body as that -of their late master, Wisamek. - -Frightened lest they would be accused of his murder, and shocked by his -altered appearance, the bodyguards turned and took to their heels. They -disappeared in the trackless forests to the north and were never seen -again. - -Old Gamunk, out of pity for the vain-glorious chieftain, buried the -remains by the path near where he fell. As for poor Annapalpeteu, the -beautiful, she waited patiently for many days by the Beaver Dam, but her -waiting was in vain. At length, concluding that he had been slain in -battle in some valorous encounter, she started for her old home on the -Bohundy. - -It is related that on the way she met and married a warrior of her own -age, living happily ever afterwards in a comfortable cabin somewhere in -the majestic Bower Mountains. In him she found the loving response, the -congeniality of pleasures which had been denied the dried, feeble soul -of Wisamek, who bathed too often in the fountain of youth. - -[Illustration] - - XXIII - _Compensations_ - - -It seemed that Andrew McMeans and Oscar Wellendorf were born to be -engaged in rivalry, although judging by their antecedents, the former -was in a class beyond, McMeans being well-born, of old Scotch-Irish -stock, a valuable asset on the Allegheny. Wellendorf, of Pennsylvania -Dutch origin, of people coming from one of the eastern counties, was -consequently rated much lower socially, had much more to overcome in the -way of life’s obstacles. The boys were almost of school age; Wellendorf, -if anything, was a month or two older. In school in Hickory Valley -neither was a brilliant scholar, but they were evenly matched, and -although not aspiring to lead their classes, felt a keen rivalry between -one another. - -When school days were over, and they took to rafting as the most obvious -occupation in the locality, their rivalries as to who could run a fleet -quickest to Pittsburg, and come back for another, was the talk of the -river. In love it was not different, and despite the talk in McMean’s -family that he should marry Anna McNamor, daughter of his father’s -life-long friend, Tabor McNamor, the girl showed an open preference for -Oscar Wellendorf. - -The old Scotch-Irish families were, as the London Times said in -commenting on some of the characteristics of the late Senator Quay -(inherited from his mother, born Stanley) “clannish to degree,” and -Anna’s “people” were equally anxious that she marry one of her own -stock, and not ally herself with the despised and socially insignificant -“Dutch”. Old Grandmother McClinton called attention to the fact that the -headstrong beauty was not without a strain of “Dutch” blood herself, for -her great, great grandmother had been none other than the winsome -Madelon Ury, a Swiss-Huguenot girl of Berks County, who, when surprised -in the field hoeing corn by a blood-thirsty Indian, had dropped her hoe -and taken to her heels. She ran so fast over the soft ground that she -would have escaped her moccasined pursuer had she not taken time to -cross a stone fence. This gave the red man the chance to throw his -tomahawk, striking her in the neck, and she fell face downward over the -wall. Just as her foe was overtaking her, Martin McClinton, a sword -maker from Lancaster, who was passing along the Shamokin trail en route -to deliver a sabre to Colonel Conrad Weiser, at Heidelberg, rushed to -her rescue and shot down the Indian, so that he fell dead across his -fair victim. - -McClinton extricated the tomahawk from her neck, bound up the wound with -his own neckerchief and carried her to her parent’s home, near the -Falling Springs. He remained until the wound healed, when he married -her. Later the pair migrated west of the Alleghenies. - -Madelon McClinton was very dark, with an oval face and aquiline -features, possibly having had a strain of Pennsylvania Jewish blood to -account for her brunette type of beauty. She always wore a red scarf -wrapped about her neck, being proud and sensitive of the ugly long white -scar left by the Indian’s weapon. - -This ancestress, so Grandmother McClinton thought, was responsible for -Anna’s affinity for the rather prosaic Dutchman Wellendorf. Although the -girl was open in her preference for Oscar, she did not make a decision -as to matrimony for some time. When Wellendorf was absent, she was nicer -to McMeans than anyone else. However, if Oscar appeared on the scene, -she had eyes and ears for no other. - -On one occasion when the two young men started down the river on their -rafts, proudly standing at the steering oars in the rear, for the -Allegheny pilots rode at the back of the rafts, whereas those on the -Susquehanna were always at the front. Anna was at the water’s edge, -under a huge buttonwood tree–or, as Wellendorf called it in the breezy -vernacular of the Pennsylvania Dutch, a “wasserpitcher”–and waved a red -kerchief impartially at both. - -McMean’s raft on this trip was of “pig iron”, that is unpeeled hemlock -logs, as heavy as lead, and became submerged when he had only gotten as -far as the mouth of French Creek. He had to run ashore to try and devise -ways and means to save it from sinking altogether, while Wellendorf -floated along serenely on his raft of white pine, and was to Pittsburg -and back home before McMeans ever reached the “Smoky City.” “John C. -French tells us, "White Pine (pinus strobus) was King, and his dusky -Queen was a beautiful Wild Cherry, lovely as Queen Alliquippa of the -redmen. Rafting lumber from Warren County began about 1800, and it -reached its maximum in the decade, 1830 to 1840. The early history of -Warren County abounds in very interesting incidents, along the larger -Allegheny River, from rafts of pine lumber assembled to couple up for -Pittsburg fleets. - -"After the purchase of Louisiana, in 1804, the hardy lumbermen decided -to extend their markets for pine beyond Pittsburg, Wheeling, Cincinnati -and Louisville–to go, in fact, to New Orleans with pine and cherry -lumber. So large boats were built in the winter of 1805 and 1806 at many -mills. Seasoned lumber of the best quality was loaded into the flat -boats and they untied on April 1, 1806, for the run of two thousand -miles, bordered by forests to the river’s edge. - -"It was in defiance to ‘All Fools’ Day’, but they went through and sold -both lumber and boats. For clear pine lumber, $40.00 was the price per -one thousand feet received at New Orleans–just double the Pittsburg -price at that date. For three years thereafter the mills of Warren -County sent boats to New Orleans loaded with lumber, and the men -returned on foot. Joseph Mead, Abraham Davis and John Watt took boats -through in 1807, coming back via Philadelphia on coastal sailing ships. - -"The pilots and men returned by river boats or on foot, as they best -could. The markets along the Ohio from Pittsburg to St. Louis soon took -all the lumber from the Allegheny mills, and the longer trips were -gladly discontinued. - -"It was in 1850 that there came the first lumber famine at Pittsburg. -Owing to the low price of lumber and an unfavorable winter for the -forest work, few rafts of lumber and board timber went down the -Allegheny on the spring freshets, but the November floods brought one -hundred rafts that sold for more favorable prices than had previously -prevailed. Clear pine lumber sold readily for $18.00 and common pine -lumber for $9.00 per one thousand feet. - -"The renown of these prices stimulated lumbering on the Allegheny -headwaters and the larger creeks. So the demand for lumber was supplied -and the railroads soon began to bring lumber from many sawmills. The -board timber was hewed on four sides, so there were only five inches of -wane on each of the four corners. These rafts of round-square timber -were sold by square feet to Pittsburg sawmills. - -"Rafts of pine boards at headwater mills were made up of platforms, 16 -feet square and from 18 to 25 courses thick, 9 pins or “grubs” holding -boards in place as rafted. Four or five platforms were coupled in tandem -with 3 feet “cribs” at each joint, making an elastic piece 73 feet or 92 -feet long for a 4 or 5 platform piece as the case might be, 10 feet -wide. - -"At Larrabee or at Millgrove four of these pieces were coupled into a -Warren fleet, 32 feet wide, 149 feet or 187 feet long. - -"Four Warren pieces or fleets were put together at Warren to make up a -Pittsburg fleet. At Pittsburg four or more Pittsburg fleets were coupled -to make an Ohio River fleet. Some became very large, often covering -nearly two acres of surface, containing about 1,500,000 feet of lumber -at Cincinnatti or at Louisville. They each had a hut for sheltering the -men and for cooking their food. They often ran all night on the Ohio. To -find where the shore was on a very dark night, the men would throw -potatoes, judging from the sound how far away the river bank was and of -their safe or dangerous position. These men were of rugged bodies and of -daring minds. - -"A small piece, in headwaters and creeks, had an oar or sweep at each -end of the piece to steer the raft with. Each oar usually had two men to -pull it. An oar-stem was from 28 to 35 feet long, 8″ by 8″, and tapered -to 4″ by 4″, shaved to round hand-hold near the end toward center of -raft. The oar blade was 12′, 14′ or 16′ long, and 18″ to 20″ wide, a -pine plank, 4″ thick at the oar-stem socket, and 1″ thick at the -out-end, tapered its whole length. - -"There were other sizes of stem and blade, but the above indicates the -power that guided a raft of lumber along the flood-tides, crooked -streams, and over a dozen mill dams to the broader river below. - -"From the Allegheny boats or scows, 30 feet long and 11 feet wide, -carried loads of baled hay, butter, eggs and other farm produce to the -oil fields of Venango County in the ’60’s, sold there and took oil in -barrels to the refinery at Pittsburg. Then sold the scows to carry coal -or goods down the Ohio. - -"Mr. Westerman built five boats at Roulette about 1870, 40 feet long and -12 feet wide, loaded them with lumber and shingles and started for -Pittsburg, but the boats were too long for the dams and broke up at -Burtville, the first dam. - -"Much of the pine timber of the west half of Potter county was cut in -sawlogs and sent to mills at Millgrove and Weston’s in log drives down -the river and Oswayo Creek into the State of New York. The lumber was -shipped via the Genesee Valley Canal to Albany and New York City and -other points on the Hudson River. - -"The first steamboat to steam up the river from Warren was in 1830. It -was built by Archibald Tanner, Warren’s first merchant, and David Dick -and others of Meadville. It was built in Pittsburg; the steamer was -called Allegheny. It went to Olean, returned and went out of commission. - -"The late Major D. W. C. James furnished the incident of the Allegheny -voyage. A story was told by James Follett regarding the trip of the -Allegheny from Warren, which illustrates the lack of speed of steamboats -on the river at that early day. - -"While the steamer was passing the Indian reservation, some twenty odd -miles above Warren, the famous chief, Cornplanter, paddled his canoe out -to the vessel and actually paddled his small craft up stream and around -the Allegheny, the old chief giving a vigorous war hoop as he -accomplished the proud feat. - -"Chief Cornplanter, alias John O’Bail, first took his young men to -Clarion County, about 1795, to learn the method of lumbering, and in -1796 he built a sawmill on Jenneseedaga Creek, later named Cornplanter -Run, in Warren County, and rafted lumber down the Allegheny to Pittsburg -for many years. - -"Many tributary streams, such as Clarion, Tionesta and Oswayo, -contributed rafts each year to make up the fleets that descended the -Allegheny River from 1796 to 1874, our rafting days. - -"We must mention the Hotel Boyer, on the Duquesne Way, on the Allegheny -River bank, near the “Point” at Pittsburg, where the raftsmen and the -lumbermen foregathered, traded, ate and drank together, after each trip. -Indians were good pilots, but must be kept sober on the rafts. -‘Bootleggers’ along the river often ran boats out to the rafts and -relieved the droughty crews by dispensing bottles of ‘red-eye’ from the -long tops of the boots they wore." - -Of the big trees in the Allegheny country, Dr. J. T. Rothrock, “Father -of Pennsylvania Forestry,” has said: "About 1860, when I was with a crew -surveying the line for the Sunbury & Erie Railroad, we had some -difficulty in getting away from a certain location. A preliminary line -came in conflict with an enormous original white pine tree, and the -transitman shouted ‘cut down that tree’. After it was felled another -nearby was found to be in the way, and was ordered out. The stump of the -first tree, four feet above the ground measured 6 feet, 3 inches in -diameter; of the second tree a trifle over 6 feet. Such was the -wastefulness of the day." - -As soon as Oscar returned he saw Anna forthwith. She was in a -particularly pliant mood, and in response to his direct question if she -would marry him, replied she would, and the couple boarded the train at -Warren for Buffalo City, where they were married. - -When Andrew McMeans came back from his protracted expedition they were -already home from their honeymoon, and residing with the elder McNamors -in the big brick house, overlooking the Bend. Andrew McMeans felt his -jilting deeply; it was the first time that any real disappointment had -come in the twenty-one years of his life; he had imagined that, despite -her predilection for Wellendorf, he would yet win her, and his pride as -well as his heart was lacerated. Outwardly he revealed little, but -inwardly a peculiar melancholy such as he had never felt before overcame -him, and like Lincoln, after the death of Ann Rutledge, he realized that -he must either “die or get better.” - -Anna seemed happy enough in her new life, and liked to flaunt her -devotion to Oscar whenever her rejected lover was about. Ordinarily this -might have wounded him still deeper, but he was absorbing fresh -anxieties, reading Herbert Spencer, whose abominable agnosticism soon -wrecked his faith, and bereft of love and the solace of immortality, he -became the most wretched of men. - -It was five years after Anna’s elopement, and when she was twenty-one -years old, that one morning she started for Endeavor to get the mail and -make some purchases at the country store. It was a cold, raw day in the -early spring, and the wild pigeons were flying. The beechwoods on both -sides of the road were alive with gunners, old and young. Some one fired -a shot which hurtled close to the nose of the old roan family horse, a -track horse in his day, and he took the bit in his teeth and ran away -madly, with the buggy careening after him. Anna, standing up in the -vehicle, was sawing on the lines until he crashed into a big ash tree -and fractured the poor girl’s skull. She was picked up by some of the -hunters and carried home unconscious the next thing was to get the news -to her husband. Oscar at that time had just finished a raft on West -Hickory Creek, while his old time rival, McMeans, was completing one on -East Hickory, which stream flowed into “The Beautiful River”, almost -directly opposite to the West Hickory Run. - -About the moment that Anna received her cruel death stroke, the two -rafts were being launched simultaneously, with much cheering on both -banks, for partisanship ran high among dwellers on either side of the -river. Members of the family hurried to the river side to watch for the -Wellendorf raft, to “head him off” before it was too late. It was -several hours after the accident when the two rival rafts, with the -stalwart young pilots at the sterns, swept around the Bend, traveling -“nip and tuck”. It promised to be an evenly matched race, barring -accidents, clear to Pittsburg. The skippers of the contending yachts for -the American Cup could not have been more enthused for their races than -were Andrew McMeans and Oscar Wellendorf. - -In front of the McNamor homestead several women were to be seen running -up and down the grassy sward, frantically waving red and green shawls. -What could they mean? They were so vehement that Oscar divined something -was wrong, and steered ashore, followed by McMeans, who, noting the -absence of Anna from the signaling party, feared that a mishap had -befallen her. - -Both young men jumped ashore almost simultaneously, leaving their rafts -to their helpers. The worst had happened–Anna was in the house with a -fractured skull, and the doctors said she could not live the night. If -anything, McMeans turned the paler of the two. The men said little as -they followed the women up the boardwalk to the house. - -That night McMeans, who asked to be allowed to remain until the outcome -of the case, for the river had lost its attractions, was sitting in the -kitchen with Grandmother McClinton. The raw air had blown itself into a -gale after sundown, and during the night the fierce wind beat about the -eaves and corners of the house like an avenging fury. The old tall -clock, made years before by John Vanderslice, of Reading, on top of -which was a stuffed Colishay, or gray fox, with an uncommonly fine -brush, was striking twelve. Amid the storm a wailing voice joined in the -din, incessantly, so that there was no mistaking it, the Warning of the -McClintons. - -[Illustration: RUINS OF FORT BARNET. BUILT IN 1740. (Photograph Taken -1895.)] - -The old grandmother watched McMeans’ face until she saw that he -understood. Then she nodded to him. "It is strange how that thing has -followed the McClinton family for hundreds of years. In Scotland it was -their ‘Caointeach’, in Ireland their ‘Banshee’, in Pennsylvania their -‘Token’ or ‘Warning’. It never fails." - -As McMeans listened to the terrible shrieks of anguish, which sometimes -drowned the storm, he shivered with pity for the lost soul out there in -the cold, giving the death message, so melancholy and sad, and perhaps -unwillingly. Anna lay upstairs in her room, facing the river, or -windward side of the house, and the Warning was evidently somewhere -below her window, where the water in waves like the sea, was -over-running the banks. - -On a kitchen chair still lay a red Paisley shawl that had been used to -signal to Wellendorf earlier in the day. It seemed ample and warm. -Picking it up, McMeans went to the kitchen door, which he opened with -some effort in the force of the gale, and, walking around the house, -laid it on one of the benches at the front door, saying, “Put on this -shawl, and come around to the leeward side of the house.” - -When he returned, he said to Grandmother McClinton, “That Token’s voice -touched me somehow tonight. Something tells me she hated her task, is -cold and miserable. I left the shawl on the front porch and told her to -come out of the wind.” - -After that they both noticed that the unhappy wailings ceased, there was -nothing that vied with the storm. - -“Perhaps you have laid her,” said Grandmother McClinton. “Anna may now -pull through.” - -But these words were barely out of her mouth, when Oscar Wellendorf, -pale as a ghost, appeared in the kitchen to say that Anna had just -passed away. Andrew felt her death keenly, but he was also satisfied -that perhaps he had by an act of kindness, removed the Warning of the -McClintons. He was more convinced when a year later Anna’s father joined -the majority, then her mother, with no visits from the mournful-voiced -Warning. - -Five years more rolled around, and Andrew McMeans, still unmarried, and -cherishing steadfastly the memory of his beloved Anna, embarked his -fleet for Pittsburg. It was a morning in the early spring, the air was -soft and warm, and the shad flies were flitting about. He arrived in -safety, but was some time collecting his money, as he was dealing with a -scamp, and meanwhile put up at a boarding house on the river front, near -the Hotel Boyer. The afternoon after his arrival he was sitting on the -porch of his lodgings, gazing out at the rushing, swirling river, which -ran bank full, on a bench similar in all ways to the one on which he had -laid the shawl to warm the freezing back of the Warning of the -McClintons. Somehow he fell to thinking about that ghost, and its -disappearance, and of Anna McNamor; how much he would give if only he -could see her again. - -He recalled how the old grandmother had told him that some families -married out of the Warning, while others married into it, much as he had -heard was the case with the Assembly Ball in Philadelphia. The McClinton -Warning had evidently clung to the female line, as it had been very much -in evidence when Anna McNamor’s time had come. - -Something made him look up the street. Coming slowly towards him was a -slender school girl, with a little green hat perched on her head, the -living image of Anna, dead for five years! He almost fell off the bench -in surprise, to note the same slim oval face, the aquiline features, and -hazel eyes that he had known and loved so well. She paused for a moment -in front of the house next door, holding her school books in her arms, -while she looked out at the raging river. The spring breezes blowing her -short skirts showed her slim legs encased in light brown worsted -stockings. Then she went indoors. - -It did not take him long to seek his landlady and learn that she was a -flesh and blood, sure enough girl, Anna Harbord by name, whose mother, -widow of Mike Harbord, an old time riverman, also ran a boarding house. -It was not many days before some errand brought the girl to the house -where McMeans was stopping, and matters fortuitously adjusted themselves -so that he met her. - -He was struck by her similarity to the dead girl, even the tones of her -voice, and it seemed strange she should have such a counterpart. She -appeared friendly disposed towards him from the start, and it was like a -compensation sent after all his years of disappointment and loneliness. -She was then sixteen years old, and must have been eleven when her -“double” passed away. - -As their acquaintance grew into love, and all seemed so serene, as if it -was to be, Andrew McMeans gradually regaining his faith, human and -divine, felt he owed his happiness to the Warning of the McClintons’, -whose misery he had appeased by taking the cloak out to her, while -engaged in her disagreeable duty of fortelling the coming dissolution of -the unfortunate girl. - -McMeans and Anna Harbord married. They decided to remain in Pittsburg, -and he became in a few years a successful and respected business man. - -If few persons had been kind to ghosts, certainly he had profited by his -interest in the welfare of the “Warning of the McClintons”. The girl’s -mother informed him that in the early spring, about five years before, -her daughter had been seized with a cataleptic attack, had laid for days -unconscious, and when she came out of it, her entire personality, even -the color of her eyes, had changed. Could it have been, the young -husband often thought, as he sat gazing at his bride with undisguised -admiration, some act of the grateful “Warning,” in sending Anna -McNamor’s soul to enter the body of this girl in Pittsburg, and -reserving her for him, safe and sound from Wellendorf and all harm, -until his travels brought her across his path! Human personality, he -reasoned, is merely a means to an end. The unfinished life of Anna -McNamor could not go on, like a flower unfolding, until her fragrance -had been spent on the one who needed it most. Then he would shudder at -the idea that if the school girl, who stopped to look at the flooded -river, had started on again, passing him by, never to see her again. He -would feel that he had been dreaming perhaps, until, touching his wife’s -soft creamy cheeks, would realize that she was actually there, and his. - -Through her his soul took on new light, and from a vigorous young -woodsman, he was slowly but surely passing into an intellectual -existence. He had been strangely favored by the mainsprings of destiny, -and why should he not give the world all that was best in him. Life, -ruthless though it seems, has always compensations, and if we live -rightly and truly, the debt will be owing us, whereas most of us through -mistakes and misdeeds, have a great volume of retribution coming in an -inevitable sequence. - - XXIV - _A Misunderstanding_ - - -It was the night before Christmas in the little mountain church near -Wolfe’s Store. The small, low-roofed, raftered chapel was illumined as -brightly as coal oil lamps in the early stage of their development could -do it; a hemlock tree, decked out with candles and tinsel stood to one -side of the altar, an almost red-hot ten-plate stove on the other, while -the chancel and rafters were twined and garlanded with ground pine and -ilex, or winter berries. In one of the rear pews sat a very good looking -young couple, a former school teacher revisiting the valley, and his -favorite pupil. Lambert Girtin and Elsie Vanneman were their names. - -The young man, who was a veteran of the Civil War, possessed the right -to wear the Congressional medal, and while teaching at the little red -school house on the pike near the road leading to Gramley’s Gap, had -noticed and admired the fair Elsie, so different from the rest of his -flock. She was the daughter of a prosperous lumberman, a jobber in -hardwoods, and her mother was above the average in intelligence and -breeding, yet Elsie in all ways transcended even her parents. - -She had seemed like a mere child when he left her at the close of the -term the previous Christmas, but he could not evict her image from his -soul. It was mainly to see her, though he would have admitted this to no -one, that induced him to revisit the remote valley during the following -holiday season. The long drive in the stage through drifted roads had -seemed nothing to him, he was so elated at the thought of reviving old -memories at the sight of this most beloved of pupils. - -In order not to arouse any one’s suspicions, he did no more than to -inquire how she was at the general store and boarding house where he -stopped. - -“You would never know her,” exclaimed old Mother Wolfe, the landlady. -“Why, she’s a regular young lady, grown a head taller,” making a gesture -with her hand to denote her increased stature. - -On Christmas Eve there was to be the usual entertainment at the Union -Church, and Lambert Girtin posted himself outside the entrance to wait -for the object of his dreams. The snow was drifted deep, and it was -bitterly cold, yet social events were so rare in the mountains that -almost every one braved the icy blasts to be present. It was not long -before he was rewarded by a sight of Elsie Vanneman. It _was_ remarkable -how tall she’d grown! As he expressed it to himself, “An opening bud -became a rose full-blown” in one short year! - -She of course recognized him, and greeted him warmly, and they entered -the church together. Inside by the lamplight he had a better chance to -study her appearance more in detail than by the cold starlight on the -church steps. She had grown until she was above the middle height, yet -had literally taken her figure and her grace with her. She was slender, -yet shapely, dainty and graceful in the extreme. Her violet eyes were -even more deeply pensive than of yore, her cheeks were pink and white, -her lips red and slightly full. Her hair was a golden or coppery brown, -and shone like those precious metals in the reflected light of the lamps -and the stove; the slight upward turn of her nose still remained. - -How demure, earnest and sincere she was! In the intervening year he had -never seen her like in Bellefonte, Altoona or Pittsburg. She seemed to -be happy to be with him again, minus the restraint existing between a -pupil and teacher. Instinctively their fingers touched, and they held -hands during most of the evening. - -Towards the end of the sermon, which was long and loud, and gave the -young couple plenty of opportunity to advance their love making -unnoticed, Girtin whispered to her: “Have you an escort home, dear -Elsie?” - -The answer was a hesitating “Yes.” - -The young man felt his heart give a jolt, then almost stop throbbing, -and an instant hatred of some unknown rival made his blood boil -furiously. How could she act that way? She had, even as his pupil, been -indifferent to all of the opposite sex except him, and during the period -of their separation her sprightly letters had borne evidence of tender -sentiments, to the utter exclusion of all others. Had he not believed in -her, he would not have taken that long journey back into the mountains, -that many might have been glad to quit for good. Her beauty and her -grace had haunted him, and he had determined to wed her, until this sign -of duplicity had been sprung on him. Of course she did not know he was -coming, and had made the fatal arrangements before; yet, if she cared -for him as he did for her, she would not be making engagements with the -boys, especially at her tender age. - -He tried to console himself by noticing a shade of regret flit over her -blushing face after she said the fateful words, but until the close of -services he was ill at ease and scarcely opened his mouth. At the -benediction he managed to stammer “Good evening,” and was out of the -church in the frosty starlight night before any one else. - -With long strides he walked up the snowy road ahead of the crowd who had -followed him. The sky was very clear, and the North Star, “The Three -Kings,” or Jacob’s Rake, Job’s Coffin, and other familiar -constellations, were glimmering on the drifted snow. Instead of -observing the stars, had he looked back he would have seen that the -“escort” she referred to was none other than a girl friend, Katie Moyer, -and both, Elsie in particular, would have been only too happy to have a -sturdy male companion to see them through the snow banks. - -As a result of his disappearance, Elsie was as unhappy and silent as -Girtin had been, as she floundered about in the drifts. Despite her -gentle, sunny nature, she was decidedly out of sorts when she reached -home at the big white house near the Salt Spring. She gave monosyllabic -answers to her parents in response to their queries as to how she had -enjoyed the long-looked for Christmas entertainment. She did not sleep -at all that night, but tossed about the bed, keeping her friend awake, -and on Christmas Day was in a rebellious mood. Her mother reminded her -how ungrateful she was to be so tearful and sullen in the face of so -many blessings and gifts. - -There was no stage or sleigh out of the valley on Christmas Day, else -Girtin would have departed. He moped about all day, telling those who -asked the matter that he was ill. Elsie, knowing that he was still in -the valley, hoped up to bedtime that he would at least come to pay her a -brief Christmas call, but supper over, and no signs of him, she was -uncivil to her mother to such a degree that her friend openly said that -she was ashamed of her. - -Though Katie and she were rooming together, it did not deter her mother, -goaded by the remarks of the younger children to visit her room while -they were undressing, saying “that she deserved a good dose of the gad,” -and, ordering her to lay face downward on the bed, administered a good, -old-fashioned spanking with the flax-paddle. After this humiliating -chastisement in the presence of her friend, the unhappy girl cried and -sobbed until morning. - -It was a wretched ending for what might have been a memorable Christmas -for Lambert Girtin and Elsie Vanneman. - -The next morning the young man managed to hire a cutter and was driven -to Bellefonte, leaving the valley with deep regrets. Through friends in -the valley he learned afterwards that Elsie had gone as a missionary to -China. - -Life ran smoothly in some ways for Lambert Girtin, for he became -uniformly successful as a business man. The oil excitement was at its -height, and he was sent by a large general supply house in Pittsburg to -open a store in Pithole City, “the Magic City,” to the success of which -he contributed so much that he was given an interest in the concern. - -At heart he was not happy. He could never focus his attentions on any -woman for long, as in the background he always saw the slender form, the -blushing face, the pansy-like eyes and the copper-brown, wavy hair of -his mountain sweetheart, Elsie Vanneman. Her loveliness haunted him, and -all others paled beside her. He was in easy circumstances to marry; -friends less opulent were taking wives and building showy homes with -Mansard roofs, along the outskirts of the muddy main thoroughfare of -Pithole City, where landscape gardening often consisted of charred, -blackened pine stumps and abandoned oil derricks. - -Sometimes, in his spiritual loneliness, he betook himself to strange -companions. One of these was a Chinese laundryman, a prototype of Bret -Harte’s then popular “Heathen Chinee,” who seemed to be a learned -individual, despite his odd appearance. Girtin, who had read of the -exploits of the Fox sisters and other exponents of early spiritualism, -was unprepared for the learning and insight possessed by this -undistinguished Celestial. - -Drawn to him at first because he could possibly tell about conditions in -China, where Elsie was supposed to be, he became gradually more and more -absorbed by the laundryman’s philosophic speculations. The fellow -confided at length that he was married, and had five children at -Tien-Tsin, to whom he was deeply attached. He would have died of a -broken heart to be so far away from them but for the power he had -developed by concentrating on the image of his native mountains, which -yearning was reciprocated, and at night he claimed that his spirit was -drawn out of his body and “hopped” half the span of the globe to the -side of his loved ones. There must be something after all in the old -Scotch quotation, “Oh, for my strength, once more to see the hills.” - -Girtin expressed a strong desire to be initiated into these compelling -mysteries. In order to cultivate his psychic sense, the Chinaman induced -him to smoke opium, which, while repellent to Girtin, he undertook in -order to reach his desired object. If he had been a man of any mental -equilibrium, he would have secured a leave of absence from business and -gone to China and claimed the fair Elsie, if she was still unmarried. He -would not do that because he was still tortured by the memory of her -preferring another at the moment when his hopes had been highest, yet he -wanted to see her, hoping that he could do so without her knowing it. - -The results attained were beyond his expectations. He quickly mastered -his soul and “hopped” to the interior of China. Elsie was there, -surrounded by her classes; at twenty-one more wondrously lovely and -beautiful than when he had parted from her that frosty night, with the -Dipper and Jacob’s Rake shining so clearly in the heavens. - -Though there were many missionaries and foreign officials who would have -courted her, her dignity and quiet reserve were impenetrable. Was she so -because of the love for the youth who was to escort her home from church -that night, or did she cherish the memory of her whilom schoolmaster -admirer? These were the thoughts that annoyed him by day, the “hang -over” of his spiritual adventures at night. - -The opium and the intense mental concentration were taking a lot out of -him. He became sallow and irritable, and neglected many business -opportunities. One of the head partners of the firm in Pittsburg was -going to Pithole City “to have it out with him,” as the mountain folks -would say. Before he could reach the scene word was telegraphed that -Lambert Girtin, frightfully altered in appearance, was found dead one -morning in a bunk back of the Charley Wah Laundry at Pithole. - -He had no relatives in the town, and his sisters, who could not come on, -telegraphed to bury him in the new Mount Moriah Cemetery, now all -overgrown and abandoned, like Pithole itself! There could be no doubt as -to his death, as Bill Brewer, just coming into fame as the “Hick -Preacher,” officiated at the obsequies. So Lambert Girtin was quickly -forgotten in most all quarters. If he was remembered for a time, it was -in the remote valley in which he had taught school, and where news of -his early demise occasioned profound regret. - -Years passed, and Elsie Vanneman, after giving some of the best years of -her life to missionary activities in various parts of China, resigned -her position, in consequence of a shattered nervous system, caused by -overwork during a great earthquake, where she ministered to thousands of -refugees, and started for home. Her parents had died while she was in -the “Celestial Kingdom,” but she had a number of brothers and sisters -who were glad to welcome her, and with whom she planned a round of -visits. - -She was only thirty when she returned, a trifle paler and a few small -lines around her mouth, but otherwise a picture of saintliness and -loveliness. One of the first bits of news she heard on reaching the -valley was of the ignominious end of Lambert Girtin in a Chinese -laundryman’s shack–"a promising career cut short," all allowed. - -It was shocking to Elsie, as she had dreamed of this young man nearly -every night from a certain period of her stay in China. She was on the -street during the great quake, and as the earth cracked and swallowed -countless victims, she fancied she saw a European, the counterpart of -Girtin, plunged into the deadly abyss. She had come home with the -intention of learning definite news of him, and if he was not the -earthquake victim, and still lived, perhaps to renew their old-time -interests. - -She had been so upset by his failure to call, or even to write, after -the Christmas eve at the little country church, that she had never -communicated with him again. Her dreams had been most vividly realistic, -as if he had been really near to her in China, and she could not make -herself believe that he was dead in Pithole City, Pennsylvania. - -Owing to this piece of bad news, she did not remain as long in the -valley as she had planned, and almost from the day of her arrival had -pined to be back in the Far East. The valley seemed dull, anyway; -saw-mills were making it as treeless as China; she hated to see Luther -Guisewhite destroy those giant original white pines, which reared their -black-topped spiral heads along the foot of the mountains on the winter -side; the wild pigeons no longer darkened the sky with their impressive -flights, the flying squirrels were being shot out in Fulmer’s Sink, near -her old home; her parents were gone–everything was different. - -Unsettled and dissatisfied, especially after a visit to the girl who had -accompanied her home on the eventful Christmas Eve, now the mother of -eight handsome children, she decided to return to China. The vast herds -of buffaloes that had impeded the progress of her train on her first -journey westward were gone. The Indians who occasionally furnished a -touch of color to the prairie landscape, likewise had disappeared. -Civilization was spreading through the Great West. - -She timed her arrival in San Francisco so as to be there shortly after -the arrival of a ship from China, so as to go back on its return -journey. She would have several days to wait in the City of the Golden -Gate but it was quaint and picturesque, the time would pass quickly. - -One evening–she was not afraid, as she knew the language and customs of -the Celestials–she decided to take a stroll through the famous Chinese -Quarter. As she was walking along, her head down, her mind abstracted -and noticing little, some one touched her on the arm. Looking around, as -if to resent a familiarity, to her bewilderment she beheld her long-lost -friend, Lambert Girtin. - -“Lambert Girtin!” she said, in amazed tones. - -“Elsie Vanneman–it is surely you?” he replied. - -“Of all people, after all these years! I had been hearing that you died -five years ago in the oil regions somewhere; what _are_ you doing?” - -The ex-schoolmaster took hold of both of her hands, there in the -crowded, moving throngs of Chinatown, saying: “I came in from China -today, after what I thought was a hopeless search for you. Years ago, -after our separation, a Chinaman showed me how to visit China in my -dreams, and be close to you. It took a whole lot of mental -concentration, was pulling me down physically. I kept it up too long, -for one night I dreamed I was in a terrible earthquake. It was so vivid -that my physical as well as my spiritual being was translated to China, -and I found myself there penniless. But, search as I may, I could not -find you. If I died in the oil regions, it must have been another -physical self, shed as a snake does his skin, for the Lambert Girtin who -stands before you is fully alive, and resolved never to part from you -again.” - -[Illustration: - - JESSE LOGAN, PENNSYLVANIA INDIAN CHIEF - (Photograph Taken 1915 by P. C. Hockenberry) -] - -Old memories came to Elsie Vanneman, conquering her fears, and her face -flushed as in schoolgirl days: "You speak of our ‘separation’–pray, tell -me more about it; why did you leave me so abruptly and run away that -Christmas Eve after meeting? I could never understand why you did not -even come to wish me a ‘Merry Christmas’ the next day. Why didn’t you -ever write me a line? What did I do to merit such neglect?" - -“What did _you_ do?” replied Girtin, drawing her aside from the passing -stream of pig-tailed humanity into a shadowy doorway. “It doesn’t seem -very serious now, but it hurt me a whole lot at the time. You told me -you had an engagement with some one to see you in from church, and I was -angry and jealous, for I had been imagining that your thoughts had only -been of me, that you cared for no one else.” “replied the girl with -alacrity. - -Girtin turned as pale as death; his sufferings, mental and physical, his -wanderings, physical and actual, his wasted years, all had been caused -by a misunderstanding. He was at a loss for words for some time, but he -held on to Elsie’s hands, looking into her beautiful, ethereal face, the -vari-colored light of a Chinese lantern shining down on her coppery-gold -hair. - -“Do you care for me at all, _now_?” he said, at length. - -“Yes, I think I do; I must, or I would not have came back all the way -from China to hunt _you_,” she answered. - -“Then we have both suffered,” he said, sadly. “What shall we do now?” -“she said. - -“That’s where I want to go,” he replied, “if I can ever live down that -dying story in Pithole City.” “said Elsie. "There was a case in our -valley of a soldier reported as killed at Gettysburg; they sent his body -home, began paying his widow a pension; she married a former sweetheart, -and then, worse than ‘Enoch Arden,’ he appeared as if from the grave. He -had no explanations to make, and our mountain people asked no questions, -all having faith in supernatural things. Neither will I ask any of you. -I have seen too much in the east to make me disbelieve anything, or that -we can die two or three times under stress of circumstances, shedding -our physical selves–to use your words–as snakes do their skins. I am -only happy I did not marry some one else, as I was tempted to do when I -imagined you were engulfed in the earthquake." - -That night in Chinatown for once a misunderstanding ended happily. - - XXV - _A Haunted House_ - - -When Billy Cloyd prospered in the lumber and milling business, he -determined to erect a mansion overlooking the arrowy waters of the -Sinnemahoning that would reflect not only his success, but the social -status of his family as well. Accordingly Williamsport architects who -made a specialty of erecting houses for the wealthy lumbermen of that -community were commissioned to prepare plans for what was to be the -grandest private dwelling on the outposts of civilization, a structure -which would outdo the already famous club house built for the use of the -stockholders of the Philadelphia Land Company at Snow Shoe, or the -offices of the agents of the Queen of Spain at Reveltown and Scootac. - -The result was a large, square house, along Colonial lines, with a -spacious doorway, above which was a transom of antique colored glass -brought all the way from the home of one of his ancestors at Old -Carlisle. Windows were numerous, commanding views up and down the -beautiful, billowy stream, then teeming with fish and aquatic bird life. - -The surrounding mountains were covered with virgin pine forests, while -the great hemlocks, oaks and birches hung over the water’s edge. There -was a clearing in which the mansion stood, the chief feature of which -was an old-fashioned garden of carefully laid design, with plenty of -columbine, called by the mountain folks “church bells,” and eglantine, -with boxwoods from the “Quaker City,” purchased from the heirs of -“Eaglesfield.” - -The dark forest came to the back of the garden, and stood black in the -gorge of Mill Creek near the projected flouring and fulling mills, to -the east of the mansion; the ever-busy saw-mill, the chief symbol of the -prosperity of Castlecloyd, as the domain was called, was situated near -the mouth of the creek. There was barely a distance of two hundred yards -from the sloping banks of the Sinnemahoning to where the forest and the -steep mountains began, consequently the mansion, mills, workshops, -stables and mill hands’ and woodsmen’s houses were all close together. - -Along the water’s edge carpenters were steadily at work building arks -and flats which carried the products of the mills to the terminus of the -railroad at Lock Haven, or to Sunbury or Harrisburg. - -Now all is changed. The view from the portico and the lawn of -Castlecloyd is upon a stream flowing with a liquid the color and texture -of ink, frowning with fine yellow bubbles; not, a living fish has been -seen, according to the present occupant of the premises, the venerable -Seth Nelson, Jr., since 1899, when the paper mill at Austin sent down -its first installment of vile pollution. Then the fish leaped on the -shore in frightful agony, dying out of water, but away from the -insidious poisoning of the acids. - -The water birds are gone; they cannot drink the polluted water, and give -the region a wide berth. Instead of cooling zephyrs, when the wind blows -off the creek towards the house, there comes a stench worse than a -week-old battlefield in Flanders. - -No forests of virgin timber are to be seen, if you strain your eyes -looking up or down stream, nothing but charred, brown wastes, the -aftermath of killing forest fires which followed the lumbering -operations. Here and there on some inaccessible cliff a lone original -white pine or hemlock has its eyrie, but even there the fires are -finding them, and they are all scorched and shaky at the butts, and go -down easily in sharp gales. Altar Rock, famed in song and story, still -has one pine standing on its top, but it is dead, and will soon share -the fate of its mate, which was blown down over twenty years ago. - -The entire scene is one of loneliness and desolation, yet a quiet, -peaceful home for the octogenarian hunter Nelson and his devoted and -equally aged sister. How different all this from what it was in the -hey-day of prosperous Billy Cloyd! The hum of the mills, the busy teams -of horses and ox-spans bringing in the logs, the carpenters and boatmen, -the large family of the successful woodsman, their guests, and the -hunters and surveyors who often made the house their headquarters. - -It was at the time that the line of the Sunbury and Erie Railroad was -being surveyed from Rattlesnake, now Whetham, to Erie, and one surveying -crew was quartered at Castlecloyd. A few weeks earlier Dr. J. T. -Rothrock had stopped there, but was now further west, camping with Mike -Long, the wolf hunter, in the midst of a great deer and pigeon country -in Elk County. - -Those were days of reckless waste of our natural resources, according to -the good Doctor. One of the surveyors, so as not to have to curve his -line, ordered that three giant original white pines be cut. All the -stumps were measured by Dr. Rothrock and averaged considerably over six -feet in diameter. They were, of course, left to rot in the woods, -thousands of feet of lumber of priceless value today! - -Philip L. Webster, who died a few years ago in Littletown, now Bradford, -was also a member of one of these surveying parties on Elk Creek, a -branch of the Clarion River; on one occasion he saw four elks together, -in a swale. - -As “Buffalo Bill” had been the professional hunter for the Northern -Pacific engineering crews, Jim Jacobs, “The Seneca Bear Hunter,” was -attached to Mr. Webster’s organization in the same capacity. Instead of -bison roasts, Jacobs was to furnish fresh elk steaks, and he kept the -surveyors, axmen and chain-carriers supplied with plenty of it all -summer long. - -The members of the party billeted at Castlecloyd were composed of young -Philadelphia gentlemen, sons of prospective stockholders in the new -railroad, finely educated, traveled youths, whose love of adventure had -been fired by the deeds of their colleagues, the Brothers Kane. One of -them stood out more brilliantly than the rest for his scholarly -attainments and poetic nature. He was young Wayne Stewardson, scion of a -distinguished Quaker house of that name, and probably connected with the -family who owned the lands on Kettle Creek, once occupied by Ole Bull. - -The young man had been educated at the university in his native city, -and in Europe. His early upbringing had been in great cities, and his -sentimental tastes came out in a peculiar admiration of spires, -chimneys, towers, stacks, vanes, arched roofs, corbels and crockets. He -would wander for hours just at evening watching the skyline in the -changing light, peopling the growing shadows with all manner of -grotesque shapes and chimeras. His love of shadowland was so great that -he fell naturally to cutting charming silhouettes of his friends, his -likeness of the lovelorn and ill-fated Dr. E. K. Kane being highly -prized. - -His visit to the Sinnemahoning Country was his first induction into the -heart of nature, and his admiration of man’s handicraft as exemplified -in minarets and high gables softened to a deep reverence for the spiral, -columnar forms of the giant pines as they serrated the skyline of the -Allegheny summits. - -There was a bench between two red maple trees, on the bank of the -Sinnemahoning, just in front of Castlecloyd, where he would sit after -supper, watching the crimson sunset reflected in the stream, with the -dusky shapes of the ancient trees athwart, and the sky gradually -becoming less of rose and more of mother-of-pearl, behind the sentinel -pines on the comb of the mountains beyond Birch Island. It was more -beautiful than anything he had ever seen in cities, in its sheer -ferocious wildness. - -One evening, on hearing a woman’s voice humming an old tune, he looked -around, beholding Cloyd’s pretty daughter sitting, watching the -afterglow from the portal of the classic doorway. Her knees were -crossed, revealing pretty, plump little legs, encased in blue cotton -stockings. His first thought at seeing her was to recall Poe’s youthful -lines, “Helen Thy Beauty is to Me.” Previously he had not noticed her -much, except that she seemed more than ordinarily good-looking and -refined, for the drudge’s life she was living. Now that, like himself, -she was a person who took notice of her surroundings, she must be -different, he thought, and have a soul more in keeping with her lovely -appearance. - -When she saw that he had observed her, instead of jumping up and running -into the house and slamming the door, like some crude backwoods girl -might have done, she came forward and stood leaning against one of the -red maples, and chatted pleasantly about the wonderful scenery. - -It was a blissful experience for Stewardson, and as he had hardly spoken -to a girl for a month, was in a particularly susceptible mood. He -studied her appearance minutely. She was probably a trifle under the -middle height, very delicately made, with chestnut hair and eyes of -wondrous golden amber. Her skin was transparently white, and the -delicate peach-blow color in her cheeks was too hectic to betoken good -health. But the outstanding feature was the nose, the most beautiful -nose he had ever seen, the bridge slightly aquiline, yet a sudden -shortness at the tip that transcended the retrousse. She was modest and -simple, reticence being her chief trait, as she told about the deer -which often took harbor in the stream, in front of where they were, when -pursued by dogs. - -She said that she had been christened Marie Asterie, but was generally -called by her second name, though the first was shorter and easier to -pronounce. - -Just as they were becoming nicely acquainted, a young woodsman, whom she -introduced as Oscar Garis, put in an appearance, and the two walked away -together, leaving Stewardson still meditating on the bench. Evidently -they were lovers, thought the young surveyor, and when he looked out on -Sinnemahoning, the light was gone–the water ran dark and menacing. - -Though he had noticed the girl’s unusual nose the first time he saw her, -he had been too busy to become well acquainted, but he recalled that she -occupied a small interior room, just off where he slept, in the -second-floor lobby. He had seen her go upstairs to retire every night, -but proximity had meant nothing to him, so deeply had he been imbued -with ideas of class. Tonight it would be different. - -He walked around a while longer, watching the bats flit hither and -thither, and listening to the plaintive calling of the whippoorwills, -then he went indoors and joined his fellow surveyors in the lobby. He -kept watching the clock and watching the door for Asterie to return, -amusing himself trying to cut her marvellous profile, the like of which -King Henry VIII or King Arthur may have admired, for she was evidently a -“throw back” to some archaic type. It was always the rule for the men to -remain downstairs until the women had retired, and on this occasion they -were all yawning but Stewardson, waiting for Asterie, who was the last -to come in, close to ten o’clock. - -Garis seemed indifferent to her, but it was the negligence of bad -manners rather than lack of interest. This gave Stewardson a chance to -light her fat lamp for her, and she closed the door and went upstairs. -When the young surveyor and his companion ascended the stairs, he noted -the rays of light from her room, streaming from the crack beneath her -door. The night after the lights were out, and his friends asleep, he -drew his mattress nearly to her door, repeating to himself the lines of -Horace’s Ode X, in Book III: - - “O Lyce, didst thou like Tanais, - Wed to some savage, what a pity ’tis - For me to lie on such a night as this - Before your door, - My feet exposed where haunting north winds hiss, - And angry roar.” - -The concluding lines of which were: - - “O thou as hard as oak no storm can break, - As pitiless as Mauritanian snake, - Not thus forever can I lie and quake, - Nor thus remain - Before thy threshold, for thy love’s sweet sake, - Soaked by the rain.” - -But it wasn’t a terrible night, only a fairly chilly one in early June, -with all the stars out, and Asterie’s worst offense was that she was -“keeping company” with another! - -The young man could not sleep all night and wondered if the girl was -similarly afflicted, as the light continued to burn; or maybe she was -only like many mountain people, and slept with a night-light, for no -sound came from her tiny apartment. After that night his pleasures at -Castlecloyd were ended. He loved the fair and fragile girl, whom he -hated to see working so hard, so patient and so misunderstood. He -dreaded the thought of her inevitable marriage to Garis, a rough, common -fellow of no refinement. He could not think of courting her himself as -his family had never in ten generations been declasse. There was nothing -to do but to sigh in vain, and watch that light coming from beneath her -door. And on nights when the wind howled, and the rain beat about the -roof, or some particularly hard gust sent a few cold drops pattering -through a crack in the shingles, on his face, he found consolation by -reciting to himself the lament of Horace in his Ode X. But he did -present her with her silhouette, which she blushingly accepted, and on -several occasions when she sang at the organ, complimented her on her -sweet contralto voice. - -In the autumn when the red maples had cast the last of their leaves, and -the pines and hemlocks looked the blacker in contrast, Stewardson’s -particular work was done, and he prepared to return to Philadelphia. -John Smoke, aged Seneca, professional hunter of the outfit, agreed to -take him and one of his chums to Rattlesnake in a birchbark canoe. Seth -Iredell Nelson, another hunter, would take two more of the young men in -another canoe. Asterie was on the leaf-strewn bank to see them depart, -dressed in her best pink denham frock, and cherry colored peach-basket -straw bonnet. It made him resentful to watch Garis put his arm on her -shoulder as the canoes shoved away, to the tune of old Smoke’s Seneca -chant. - -Billy Cloyd himself was not present; he excused himself as not feeling -well, and Went upstairs shortly after breakfast. On the journey old -Smoke confided to his passengers the cause of the landlord’s backward -conduct. A black calf had been born the night before; whenever one -appeared in the family it brought bad luck; that had been a belief with -Cloyd’s people even in the remote days when they lived in the “old -country.” - -Then the aged Indian told the legend of how the redmen came to the -American continent. They had been driven eastward by famines until they -came to a great sea, across which they found a narrow strip of land, -which they crossed. They came to a country teeming with game, and made -themselves at home, wandering great distances to enjoy the chase and -visit the natural wonders. - -Later they decided to revisit their old home, but the sea had washed -over the strip of land, and their canoes were not stout enough to breast -the angry waves. - -Stewardson listened to this and other old tales in a half-abstracted -way; his thoughts were back with Asterie Cloyd; she with that wonderful, -impossible-to-silhouette nose, her sweet voice, and quiet, restful -manner. He did not marry any of the stately Junoesque beauties whom he -knew, upon returning to Philadelphia, but became critical of the fair -sex, and shunned their company whenever possible. About two years later -the Civil War broke out, and being intimately acquainted with the Kane -family, he hurried to Harrisburg, and the genial “Colonel Tom” gave him -a commission in his 1st Rifle Regiment, soon to win deathless fame under -the name of “Bucktails.” - -One evening in camp Colonel Kane and Captain Stewardson were sitting -before their tents, stroking their long fair beards, for it was the aim -of every young soldier to be the most shaggily hirsute. The Colonel was -telling of his memorable trip on rafts from McKean County to Harrisburg -with his recruits and how he spent a night with a man named Garis, who -had acted like a copperhead, and though an expert rifleman, declined to -enlist. “Yet he had ample cause to be out of sorts” continued the -Colonel. “He had lately buried his wife, who, from all accounts, was an -exceptionally pretty girl, one of Billy Cloyd’s daughters.” - -If he had watched Stewardson’s face carefully, he would have seen it -growing paler, even in the camp fire’s ruddy glow, beneath that mighty -beard. - -“Cloyd, who before the girl’s marriage, had lost his wife,” continued -Colonel Kane, "went up Bennett’s Branch, to take out spars, and started -to clear a farm on the mountain top, and build an even more ambitious -mansion. Garis told me that the old man had recently sold the whole -property, including the timber, to William E. Dodge of New York, who -intends naming it after the President, the ‘Lincoln Farm’, and using it -for a private summer resort." - -Captain Stewardson did not care to hear more; as soon as he could -consistently excuse himself from his commanding officer, he did so, and -wandered off among the pines, inwardly moaning. - -In the early part of 1864, as the result of wounds, he was given an -indefinite sick leave, but instead of going home, he resolved to visit -Asterie’s grave. - -The railroad was completed to Renovo, and the ties were down, ready for -the rails, almost to Erie. A mail carrier on horseback travelled from -Renovo to the backwoods settlements of Sinnemahoning and Driftwood, and -hiring an extra horse, the now Major Stewardson arranged to accompany -him. They had not ridden far through the snowy road when the mail man, -Wallis Gakle, began telling about the Haunted House, Billy Cloyd’s old -place that they would pass. “Nobody’s lived there,” he said, “since -Oscar Garis moved out in the summer of ’61, after burying that pretty -wife of his. They say he worked her to death, making her do all the -cooking for all the lumber and mill crews, and was always after her to -do more; he literally hounded the poor little child to death.” - -Then he went on to tell how towards nightfall people were afraid to go -past the deserted house for the awful screaming and yelling, like a -woman in torment, that came from the upper rooms. Travellers never went -on that side of the creek, unless in parties of four or five together, -preferring to follow the right-of-way of the railroad across the creek, -but even there they could hear the shrieks and moaning. Some were even -hinting that Garis, who had gone to live with his late father-in-law on -the Clarion, had in a fit of temper murdered his wife. At the time it -was said that she had died of lung trouble. - -All this was interesting to the young soldier, and he next inquired -where the poor girl was buried. - -“She’s lying on the hillside, overlooking the meeting of the First Fork -and the Driftwood Branch, a beautiful spot, but it’s cold and bleak -under the pines when the country is covered with snow.” - -Just beyond the present town of Westport, Gakle and Stewardson fell in -with two hunters tramping along on snowshoes with their dogs, headed for -the panther country. They were the veteran Nimrod Jake Hamersley and a -young hunter named Art Vallon. - -“Glad to meet you, gentlemen,” said old Jake, half joking; “we wanted a -little bolstering up before passing the haunted house.” “said Gakle, “I -am never afraid, but my horse rears like one of the deil’s own buckies -when he hears those dreadful screams. I always try to get by before -dark, for they say the racket is a lot worse after sundown.” - -As the party wended its way along the narrow trail by the river’s edge, -all manner of hunting and ghost stories were recounted. All were in an -eerie frame of mind, as with the rays of the setting sun shining in -their faces, they neared the deserted Castlecloyd. The deep woods -screened the clearings and gardens, but long before they came in view a -melancholy wailing, like a woman tortured by fiends, echoed through the -aisles of the primeval forest. - -“I guess we’ll have to face it,” said the mail carrier, "but four man -sized men, and a like number of varmint hounds ought to be able to -‘rassle’ any spook." - -As they neared the house, the setting sun tinted to the brilliancy of -the stained glass of some mediaeval cathedral the vari-coloured lights -above the classic portal. They noticed that the door stood open. From an -upper room came the doleful groans and lamentations. - -“What’s those tracks?” said the keen-eyed young Vallon, who had run on -ahead with the dogs. - -Coming up the bank from the ice-bound Sinnemahoning, crossing the trail, -and entering the mansion by the front door, were huge round footmarks -like those of some mammoth cat. “Painter, painter” they all cried, as -they looked at them, while the dogs, knowing well the ferocity of the -Pennsylvania Lion, slunk about their master’s feet. - -All wanted to go indoors, and no one cared to mind the horses. They tied -the jaded beasts to the red maple trees, on either side of Major -Stewardson’s one-time favorite resting place. Gakle had an old-time, -flint-lock horse pistol that had been carried by David Lewis, the -Robber, when he was wounded on the First Fork; Stewardson had his army -pistol, while the two hunters had their flint-lock Lancaster rifles. - -They followed the tracks into the lobby, and by the snow and mud left on -the floor, to the staircase, which they ascended. Stewardson’s eyes fell -on the green-painted door of the little room once occupied by his -beloved, which was ajar. He rushed forward, pistol in hand, and pushed -it wide open. - -On the bed, a small affair of the four poster type which he had never -viewed before, the scene of the fair Asterie’s vigils, stood a great -lithe, lean pantheress, clawing the counterpane and mattress with all -four feet, and beating her fluffy tail with a regular rhythm against the -headboard. In her mouth was a huge rat, bleeding, which she had lately -captured. - -Before he could recover from his amazement and shoot, the greycoated -monster sprang over the foot-board, and through the window, carrying the -sash with her. The other men appeared just in time to see the brute’s -long tail disappearing through the casement. - -Quickly turning, they seized the dogs by their collars and pushed them -down the narrow winding stairs. Outside, in the fading light, the spoor -could be seen at the side of the house where the lioness bounded over -the lawn, and down the bank, and crossed the stream on the ice. - -The dogs took up the scent, and were away, the hunters following gamely. -The baying of the hounds echoed and re-echoed through the narrow valley; -by their volume the quarry was not far ahead. The snow was deep and very -soft in the woods, and it was getting very dark. Perhaps the chase would -have to be abandoned, and the panther or spook, whichever it was, got -away after all. - -Soon the barking of the dogs indicated that the beast had been run to -cover. It was just at dark when the hunters saw the pantheress crouched -in a rock oak at the forks, on the steep, stony face of the Keating -Mountain, with the dogs leaping up frantically, the monster feline -hissing and growling savagely. - -Jake Hamersley was selected to give the death shot, “taking” the brute -between the eyes. She fell with a thud, and with a few convulsive kicks, -expired on the snow. Major Stewardson built a military campfire while -Hamersley and Vallon carefully skinned the carcass, and fed the flesh to -the dogs. The Nimrods offered the hide to the young Major as a trophy, -but he declined with thanks. He could not bear to have such a -remembrance of a creature that had disported itself so recently on his -loved one’s little four poster bed. Perhaps it had partaken of her -spirit, from absorbing the environment where she had pined away to -death. - -He only wanted to visit her grave, above the meeting of the waters, to -drop there a few tears, a part of the boundless water of life. His heart -would always be a Haunted House. - -It was verging on the “witching hour,” and an ugly winter drizzle had -begun to fall, as the triumphant hunters ascended the soggy bank, and -stood before the portals of Castlecloyd, undecided as to whether they -should bivouac there until morning. Major Stewardson was muttering to -himself the concluding lines of that Ode of Horace, - - “Not thus forever can I lie and quake, - Nor thus remain, - Before thy threshold for thy love’s sweet sake, - Soaked by the rain.” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note - -Compound words that are hyphenated on a line or page break retain the -hyphen if warranted by the preponderance of mid-line instances of the -same word elsewhere. Where hyphenation is inconsistent in mid-line -occurrences, the text is given here as printed. - -There are numerous instances of commas appearing as full stops, which we -attribute to the printing process (vi.6, vii.31, 16.5, 26.1, 30.25, -46.2, 108.4, 114.30, 115.23, 121.18, 292.11, 350.27). - -Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted below. Where the apparent error occurs in quoted text, we -defer to the text as printed. - -The references are to the page and line in the original. - - v.5 to issue no [no ]more books Removed. - - vii.28 the meanings of the book may be arrived at[.] Added. - - 34.7 but the brid[g]egroom was well to do Removed. - - 37.29 [“]That’s enough of your drivel, Adam,” Added. - - 40.11 betwe[e]n the Wyandots and allied nations Inserted. - - 40.15 the handsomest of the es[oc/co]rt Transposed. - - 44.22 The [The ]fact that it is a Prostrate Tree Removed. - - 46.7 Surveying the [gorey] scene _sic_ - - 47.19 fall to the ground outside the st[a/o]ckade. Replaced. - - 47.27 had been gr[i]eviously hurt Inserted. - - 49.7 I am glad that our enemies were beaten and Added. - annihilated.[”] - - 52.19 we sh[a/o]uld mention Replaced. - - 53.22 was a decrepit old man.[”] Added. - - 55.18 make the house “general hea[r/d]quarters” Replaced. - - 58.20 the exigencies of his strenuous c[o/a]mpaigns Replaced. - - 58.28 which his wea[l]th had enabled him to purchase Inserted. - - 65.6 [s/S] said she herself was dead Replaced. - - 65.23 that in ten years he [r/h]ad sold Replaced. - - 71.7 The Elma Hacker of those days had a Replaced. - swee[a/t]heart - - 72.14 to keep on good terms with the in[n]keeper’s Inserted. - family - - 82.9 about their inglenooks and home-garths[,/.] Replaced. - - 83.22 by a homespun cap of the tam o’shant[t/e]r Replaced. - pattern - - 83.27 until joined by the surp[r]ised Viscount. Inserted. - - 91.25 a few days in the future.[”] Added. - - 105.19 the sleeper’s temples like an eg[g]shell Inserted. - - 106.22 was forced from In-nan-[ag/ga]-eh’s Transposed. - In-nan-ga-eh’s hand - - 107.13 their bodies to com[m]ingle> with earth until Inserted. - eternity. - - 110.8 losing his equilibr[i]um Inserted. - - 114.10 to leap about th[t/e] horses’ throatlatches Replaced. - - 116.10 she was again urged by Phillis and her father, Inserted. - se[e]med disinclined - - 117.16 prepared to make that break first[.] Added. - - 124.15 have maintained in the fore[t]sts Removed. - - 131.31 Meanwhile he had to live some[w]how Removed. - - 135.10 I had heard from[ from] Billy Dowdy Redundant. - - 140.3 “The world is aesthetically dead[”!/”] Transposed. - - 145.1 Som[e]times the Indians notice Inserted. - - 149.24 into the valley of the shadow[,/.] Replaced. - - 153.6 a big bonfire was to be started later[,/.] Replaced. - - 153.11 whose face showed every sign[s] of intense Removed. - terror. - - 153.12 From words that he could understand, and the Removed. - g[r]estures - - 161.6 there are postoff[i]ces, hotels, streams, Inserted. - caves and rocks - - 161.22 Unfortun[at]ely for Simon Gerdes Inserted. - - 165.17 mounted on a superbly c[om/a]parisoned, Replaced. - ambling horse - - 173.4 he realized how foolish it would be to[ to] Redundant. - journey - - 175.3 in the ‘North American[’]” Added. - - 177.30 are in a sense correct[,]. Removed. - - 179.8 other times his n[ei/ie]ce Transposed. - - 180.30 [pearched] on one of his wrists _sic_ - - 181.28a made a confidante of by Herbert [( /,] who Replaced. - offered her five dollars - - 181.28b a [collosal] sum in those days _sic_ - - 182.24 too high for these days of conservation[.] Added. - - 183.19 she received her [grevious] hurts _sic_ - - 188.1 the centre of the greensw[o/a]rd Replaced. - - 191.9 he would take[ take] her by force Redundant - - 194.29 with rare dex[i]terity Removed. - - 195.18 his lion-hear[t]ed sachem Inserted. - - 199.22 with tolerable fluen[e/c]y Replaced. - - 200.26 invited the redmen to climb ab[r]oard Removed. - - 213.19 was called away[ away] during a heavy flood Redundant. - - 219.10 The passage of time had obli[t]erated it Inserted. - - 237.7 but where there[ there] were so few neighbors Redundant. - - 238.1 while [t]he stroked his long black beard Removed. - - 239.22 in tones as melanc[oh/ho]ly Transposed. - - 245.28 Some instinct mad[e] her open the wrapper Added. - - 246.15 “Say, folks,” she said, coldly,[,] Removed. - - 250.2 the supreme d[ie/ei]ty of the Scandinavian Transposed. - mythology - - 253.4 “It> was a perfect square Added. - - 256.6 her tearful, piqua[i]nt face Removed. - - 257.22 for they had sworn to de[il/li]ver her Transposed. - - 259.6 “only don’t cast me off[.]” Added. - - 269.10 the face of N[i/a]ganit’s Replaced. - - 269.18 N[i/a]ganit looked at the Indian woman. Replaced. - - 287.15 when he r[e]ached the opening Inserted. - - 291.15 it did not en[c]ounter the dense foliage Inserted. - - 295.26 now [gutteral], now sharp and loud _sic_ - - 296.5 approached the battle-g[r]ound Inserted. - - 296.28 As soon as he had recovered from the Added. - blood-curdling episodes, [he ]built - - 298.23 the proud tuft[s] itself was growing sparse Removed. - and weak - - 299.14 That Annapalpete[a]u had a cavalier Removed. - - 300.2 he wanted to be v[e/i]rile and win Replaced. - - 300.3 the beautiful Annapalp[a/e]teu. Replaced. - - 307.3 [“]I have come Added. - - 310.4 to be engaged in riva[rl/lr]y Transposed. - - 312.13 On one occa[is/si]on when the two young men Transposed. - started - - 312.20 vernacular of the Pennsl[y]vania Dutch Inserted. - - 315.6 [Cincinnatti] or at Louisville _sic_ - - 317.8 rafted lumber down the Alle[hg/gh]eny Transposed. - - 335.30 after the ar[r]ival of a ship from China Inserted. - - 319.17 and carried home [unconscious the] next thing _sic_ - was - - 320.2 with the stalwart young pilots a[t] the sterns Added. - - 320.11 franti[c]ally waving red and green shawls. Inserted. - - 320.15 the absence of Anna from the signaling part[y] Added. - - 320.20 and the do[c]tors said she could not live Inserted. - - 320.25 until the out[c]ome of the case Inserted. - - 321.7 The old grandmother watched McMeans[’] face Added. - - 331.21 in his spir[i]tual loneliness Inserted. - - 334.4 Years pass[s]ed Removed. - - 338.21 to use [y]our words Added. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Allegheny Episodes, by Henry Wharton Shoemaker - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ALLEGHENY EPISODES *** - -***** This file should be named 56094-0.txt or 56094-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/0/9/56094/ - -Produced by KD Weeks, ellinora and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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