The Oneida Indians came annually from the Valley of the Mohawk and the
Oneida reservation to the Valley of the Susquehanna, by their path down
the Valley of Adaca, to lay in their store of dried venison for the long
and dreary winters of this latitude, accompanied by their wives and
daughters, who prepared the meat taken in the hunt, dried and smoked it,
and put it in deerskin sacks ready to be conveyed to their winter
quarters. They always encamped at their place of rest at the outlet of
the Adaca Creek into the Susquehanna River, where they had planted an
orchard to supply them with apples during the fall hunt.
Mayall lived near their path where they usually stopped to make
inquiries and gain such information as was necessary to guide them where
deer were most numerous. They usually gave Mayall an invitation to join
the fall hunt, which was his favorite amusement at that season of the
year, being an expert in the game of hunting. The Indians gave Mayall
his full share of the venison and furs taken. They ranged the hills and
valleys in every direction from their camp at the place of rest, and
returned at night with their venison and furs, which they handed over to
their squaws to be dressed and dried, excepting such parts as would not
bear transportation, which were taken to supply the daily food of the
camp. A number of large gray wolves had been heard nightly from their
camp howling on the mountain south of the Susquehanna, which caused the
deer to leave the South Mountain and cross over to the hills on the
north side.
On the morning following one of their howling frolics, one of the
hunters shot and wounded a deer on the south side of the river. In their
endeavors to capture it they drove it up the mountain side. There were a
number of hunters joined in the chase, but as the hill grow steep and
rocky they all fell back and returned to camp but Mayall and two
Indians, who had now reached the high range of hills, where they made a
temporary halt to view the ample plains and beauteous tracts below. On
the one hand they surveyed the famous Susquehanna, rolling in silent
dignity and marking its course with inconceivable grandeur, while in the
distance the hills lifted their venerable brows.
Here they had paused a few moments to view the beauties of Nature as it
came fresh from the hand of Omnipotence. The sunlight was streaming from
the western skies, kissing each mountain top, clad with crimson and
gold, like the morning light that dances on the heaven-kissed hills of
Paradise. Mayall viewed the scene with unspeakable delight, as he
thought how rich he was in everything that made life desirable to him.
From this lofty eminence over the valley forest he could mark the smoke
curling from his quiet home, where his lovely companion rested. Youth,
beauty, wealth, love, all seemed to be his. All his past life seemed to
pass in grand review. The sun sank in silence toward the horizon, and
called to his mind that the chase was leading them too far from camp to
return before dark.
Before they had time to decide which course to pursue they heard the
deer returning with a gang of wolves close in pursuit, made ravenous by
the scent of the warm blood gushing from the deer's sides at every
bound, in consequence of his wonderful springs to escape the wolves,
which were so near that one miss-jump would have been fatal, as a dozen
wolves were ready to tear his flesh from his bones.
It now became hurrying times. Mayall looked round to find a safe
retreat. The two Indians that had ascended the hill with him were wild
with affright, and beat a hasty retreat. The deer became exhausted in
its exertions to escape, and fell to the ground within two rods of the
place where Mayall stood, and three of the wolves rushed upon him with
open jaws, to devour him. Mayall was just the man for that place; for as
quick as a flash of electricity all his presence of mind returned. The
contents of his gun, with his deadly aim, brought down the first or
foremost to the ground. He dropped his gun and met the second with his
tomahawk, which he dispatched at a blow. The third had then reached him.
He aimed a blow at his head, his weapon glanced, and the wolfs mouth
came in contact with his body and fastened his teeth in his
hunting-frock. At that instant Mayall gave him a thrust with his long
hunting-knife, which he had drawn from his belt with his left hand. The
knife entered between the wolf's ribs and split his heart, and the wolf
fell back and expired with a mournful howl. Mayall was now clear from
the wolves. The remainder of the drove was devouring the deer with such
haste, he saw there would be no escape unless it was effected without
delay. He instantly placed his tomahawk in his belt and sheathed his
knife, then fastening his gun to his belt by means of a spring,
commenced climbing the first favorable tree he reached.
He had barely time to climb ten feet from the ground before the wolves
made a rush for the tree, and commenced jumping at him, mingled with a
howl of rage and disappointment. Mayall continued to climb until he
reached a safe and convenient place for loading his gun. He soon loaded
and brought down the fourth wolf, and then gave a shout of triumph to
inform the Indians that he had reached a place of safety. The Indians
shouted back from the tree-tops far down the mountain, with joy that
echoed through every glen and ascended above the mountain-top; for
hearing the howling and growling of the wolves after Mayall's first
fire, they supposed the wolves were devouring Mayall and would soon be
upon their track, and had taken the precaution to reach a place of
safety in time. Mayall now continued to load his gun and fire upon the
wolves with success, until the thinned band made their retreat up the
mountain. He then descended from his lofty perch, made his retreat in
the same direction the Indians had, down the mountain.
Mayall soon reached the place where the Indians had fled for safety, and
found them perched in a tree like two owls on their nightly roost. As
soon as the Indians saw Mayall they quickly descended, and the three
took up their line of march for their camp with the double-quick. The
curtains of night were fondly drooping upon the hill-tops, and the stars
were shooting forth in glory one by one from Heaven's blue concave as
the three hunters reached the Indian encampment.
The Indians shouted with joy at their return, after hearing the firing
of guns and the fierce howling of wolves. They had been much alarmed for
their safety. The squaws and Indians flocked round Mayall to hear the
Indians relate the story of their adventure and act over the frightful
scene with gun, tomahawk and knife, to show the amount of skill used by
Mayall in handling the deadly weapons of war. Their war-chief, being
present, addressed his Indians in the following manner: "Your pale-faced
chief, whom I shall this night adopt by the name of Wolf-hunter, must
ever be revered by our tribesmen for his deeds of skill and daring. He
has driven our enemies from our hunting-ground. Yon skulking thieves
that destroyed our game, and tore the white squaw's papoose from her
arms, and bore it over the high hills to where the Susquehanna winds her
course among the alder groves, there the pale chief left them in their
leafy bed of gore, and returned the white papoose to the embrace of her
mother. The Indians who returned to avenge their fallen tribesmen have
been slain by him, and their bones will ever rest on our hunting-ground,
unmolested either by sire or son. He has met this day in deadly combat
the gray wolves of the forest that destroyed our venison. They spared
neither the deer nor its fawn; and to-night they sleep in death, high on
the bleak mountain-side. The God of battle helps him in every strife,
and no arm has yet been found able to cope with his. And we should be
proud of such a friend to lead the hunt and move the whirlwind of the
battle on."
Mayall related the story of his adventure with the wolves to Mr. Powel,
one of the first settlers of the Adaca Valley, and at the same time
informed him that Molly Brant, then an Indian maiden of beautiful form
and suavity of manners, was with the Indians at their camp, and was
after that the wife of Sir William Johnson. He said her manners were as
gentle as the south wind that rocked the tree-tops in autumn.