AT THE SETTLEMENT.
The disastrous termination of the battle of Chillicothe was a severe
blow to the settlements along the frontier, and none, perhaps, felt it
more than our own village. Defeat was not dreamed of with such ardent
troops, and under the leadership of Colonel Sandford, and the
experienced Indian-fighter, Wetzel. Instead of giving a check to the
savage depredations, this really added an impetus. The Shawnees and
several tribes united, and under the harangues of their chiefs and
leaders, finally believed that the whites could be still driven from
their grounds forever. The great Tecumseh had not arisen yet to seek to
stay the inevitable tide of extermination with his masterly genius, but
the warriors were as numerous and their intentions as deep-rooted.
Could some such man as Tecumseh have arisen at this time, the Indian
wars on the frontier would have been much more bloody and formidable
than they were. Many of the tribes were at variance with each other, and
some of the severest battles ever fought upon the “dark and bloody
ground” were between the rival tribes. Though all were opposed to the
whites, they could not unite against them. Their leaders were too
short-sighted, and in spite of their utmost efforts, the tide of
emigration still rolled westward.
Long and anxiously was the return of the volunteers looked for. The
sentinels at the block-houses continually watched every point of the
forest and river, and the deep interest felt in the result of this
expedition was shown by all. Finally a few days afterward, a couple of
stragglers, worn and haggard, emerged from the wood, and entered the
settlement. They were immediately surrounded by numbers, eager and
anxious, to whom they related the sad particulars of defeat. Several
they had seen fall upon the battle-field, but who were shot or wounded
they were unable to tell. The retreat had been so disorderly and
confused that the two in question had taken to the woods together, and
made all possible haste for home.
In the afternoon, Captain Parks, Prentice, and all of the volunteers,
except Pompey, and the killed and our two friends, returned. From them
the full particulars of the battle were received. Those who escaped the
massacre had made a rapid retreat for Pennsylvania, so that the
settlements were again left to their own protection.
“But where are Kingman, Smith, and Moffat? I don’t see them among your
number,” asked the minister, Edwards, of Captain Parks.
“Smith I saw killed. I don’t know where Moffat and that madcap, Kingman,
are. I saw them both fighting like devils, and suppose if they ain’t
scalped, they’re scouting around the country somewhere. Umph! the
all-firedest battle I ever saw fought.”
“Very unfortunate—very unfortunate.”
“That Wetzel is a trump, and understands what he is about, but the men
hadn’t a chance.”
“The boldness of the Indians will no doubt be increased by their
triumph.”
“I don’t know as their boldness will require much increase, but the way
they walked into the retreating soldiers did credit to their cruelty.”
“This is a sad thing if Kingman is lost. He was a fine noble-hearted,
promising young man, and his loss will be deeply felt by all. But,
beside his parents, there is one to whom the blow will be terrible.”
“Who is that?”
“Irene Stuart. You know her. She came with you.”
“Yes; but why should _she_ feel it?”
“There is something more than friendship”—
“Umph! I understand. He’s _gone in_ there. Yes; I understand. But, I
don’t believe he’s gone _under_, because his being absent at the same
time with Moffat shows pretty certain that they are together, and they
do say that that long, spindle-shanked fellow that I once kicked clear
of the ground is one of the best Indian fighters in the parts. He can
run like a deer, and is as cunning and wide-awake as that Mingo, Logan.
No; I think they’re in some scrape but he’ll bring both out all right.”
“I do earnestly pray that he will. Irene asked me to inquire when she
heard some of the men had arrived, and I must now go to her. You think,
then, there is nothing wrong done, if I encourage her to hope?”
“Of course not. I won’t believe he’s dead if he don’t come back for a
month, unless Moffat comes in and says he saw him go under.”
“If you have nothing to detain you, suppose you go on to the house. The
families are very anxious to get the particulars, and I suppose your
wife is looking with much concern for your reappearance.”
“Umph! not much, I guess; but I’ll go down with you, for I happen to be
most confoundedly hungry.”