TOMMY COLEMAN, THE INDIAN FIGHTER--SURPRISE OF THE DUNKARD MURDERERS,
ETC.
Among all the early pioneers of the upper end of the Juniata Valley
none was better known to the Indians than Thomas Coleman. His very name
inspired them with terror; and, in all their marauding, they carefully
avoided his neighborhood. He was, emphatically, an Indian-hater,--the
great aim and object of whose life appeared to be centred in the
destruction of Indians. For this he had a reason--a deep-seated revenge
to gratify, a thirst that all the savage blood in the land could not
slake,--superinduced by one of the most cruel acts of savage atrocity
on record.
It appears that the Coleman family lived on the West Branch of the
Susquehanna at an early day. Their habitation, it would also appear,
was remote from the settlements; and their principal occupation was
hunting and trapping in winter, boiling sugar in spring, and tilling
some ground they held during the summer. Where they originally came
from was rather a mystery; but they were evidently tolerably well
educated, and had seen more refined life than the forest afforded.
Nevertheless, they led an apparently happy life in the woods. There
were three brothers of them, and, what is not very common nowadays,
they were passionately attached to each other.
Early in the spring,--probably in the year 1763,--while employed in
boiling sugar, one of the brothers discovered the tracks of a bear,
when it was resolved that the elder two should follow and the younger
remain to attend to the sugar-boiling. The brothers followed the tracks
of the bear for several hours, but, not overtaking him, agreed to
return to the sugar-camp. On their arrival, they found the remains of
their brother boiled to a jelly in the large iron kettle! A sad and
sickening sight, truly; but the authors of the black-hearted crime had
left their sign-manual behind them,--an old tomahawk, red with the gore
of their victim, sunk into one of the props which supported the kettle.
They buried the remains as best they could, repaired to their home,
broke up their camp, abandoned their place a short time after, and
moved to the Juniata Valley.
Their first location was near the mouth of the river; but gradually
they worked their way west, until they settled somewhere in the
neighborhood of the mouth of Spruce Creek, on the Little Juniata, about
the year 1770. A few years after, the two brothers, Thomas and Michael,
the survivors of the family, moved to the base of the mountain, in what
now constitutes Logan township, near where Altoona stands, which then
was included within the Frankstown district.
These men were fearless almost to a fault; and on the commencement of
hostilities, or after the first predatory incursion of the savages, it
appears that Thomas gave himself up solely to hunting Indians. He was
in all scouting parties that were projected, and always leading the van
when danger threatened; and it has very aptly, and no doubt truly, been
said of Coleman, that when no parties were willing to venture out he
shouldered his rifle and ranged the woods alone in hopes of
occasionally picking up a stray savage or two. That his trusty rifle
sent many a savage to eternity there is not a shadow of doubt.
_He_, however, never said so. He was never known to acknowledge to
any of his most intimate acquaintances that he had ever killed an
Indian; and yet, strange as it may seem, he came to the fort on several
occasions with rather ugly wounds upon his body, and his knife and
tomahawk looked as if they had been used to some purpose. Occasionally,
too, a dead savage was found in his tracks, but no one could tell who
killed him. For such reserve Mr. Coleman probably had his own motives;
but that his fights with the savages were many and bloody is
susceptible of proof even at this late day. We may incidentally mention
that both the Colemans accompanied Captain Blair's expedition to
overtake the tories, and Thomas was one of the unfortunate "Bedford
Scout."
To show how well Thomas was known, and to demonstrate clearly that he
had on sundry occasions had dealings with some of the savages without
the knowledge of his friends, we may state that during the late war
with Great Britain, on the Canadian frontier, a great many Indians made
inquiries about "_Old Coley_;" and especially one, who represented
himself as being a son of Shingas, pointed out to some of Captain
Allison's men, who were from Huntingdon county, a severe gash on his
forehead, by which he said he should be likely to remember "Coley" for
the balance of his life.
In the fall of 1777, Fetter's Fort was occupied by some twenty-five men
capable of bearing arms, belonging to the Frankstown district. Among
these were both the Colemans, their own and a number of other settler's
families.
The Indians who had murdered the Dunkards, it appears, met about a mile
east of Kittaning Point, where they encamped, (the horses and plunder
having probably been sent on across the mountain,) in order to await
the arrival of the scattered forces. Thomas and Michael Coleman and
Michael Wallack had left Fetter's Fort in the morning for the purpose
of hunting deer. During the day, snow fell to the depth of some three
or four inches; and in coming down the Gap, Coleman and his party
crossed the Indian trail, and discovered the moccasin tracks, which
they soon ascertained to be fresh. It was soon determined to follow
them, ascertain their force, and then repair to the fort and give the
alarm. They had followed the trail scarcely half a mile before they saw
the blaze of the fire and the dusky outlines of the savages seated
around it. Their number, of course, could not be made out, but they
conjectured that there must be in the neighborhood of thirty; but, in
order to get a crack at them, Thomas Coleman made his companions
promise not to reveal their actual strength to the men in the fort.
Accordingly they returned and made report--once, for a wonder, not
exaggerated, but rather underrated. The available force, amounting to
sixteen men, consisting of the three above named, Edward Milligan,
Samuel Jack, William Moore, George Fetter, John Fetter, William
Holliday, Richard Clausin, John McDonald, and others whose names are
not recollected, loaded their rifles and started in pursuit of the
savages. By the time they reached the encampment, it had grown quite
cold, and the night was considerably advanced; still some ten or twelve
Indians were seated around the fire. Cautiously the men approached, and
with such silence that the very word of command was given in a whisper.
When within sixty yards, a halt was called. One Indian appeared to be
engaged in mixing paint in a pot over the fire, while the remainder
were talking,--probably relating to each other the incidents attending
their late foray. Their rifles were all leaning against a large tree,
and Thomas Coleman conceived the bold design of approaching the tree,
although it stood but ten feet from the fire, and securing their arms
before attacking them. The achievement would have been a brilliant one,
but the undertaking was deemed so hazardous that not a man would agree
to second him in so reckless and daring an enterprise. It was then
agreed that they all should aim, and at the given word fire. Coleman
suggested that each man should single out a particular savage to fire
at; but his suggestion was lost upon men who were getting nervous by
beginning to think their situation somewhat critical. Aim--we will not
call it deliberate--was taken, the word "_fire_!" was given, and
the sharp report of the rifles made the dim old woods echo. Some three
or four of the savages fell, and those who were sitting around the
fire, as well as those who were lying upon the ground, instantly sprang
to their feet and ran to the tree where their rifles stood. In the mean
time, Coleman said--
"Quick! quick! boys, load again! we can give them another fire before
they know where we are!"
But, on looking around, he was surprised to find nobody but Wallack and
Holliday left to obey his order! The number proving unexpectedly large,
the majority became frightened, and ran for the fort.
The Indians, in doubt as to the number of their assailants, took an
early opportunity to get out of the light caused by the fire and
concealed themselves behind trees, to await the further operations of
this sudden and unexpected foe.
Coleman, Wallack, and Holliday, deeming themselves too few in number to
cope with the Indians, followed their friends to Fetter's Fort.
Early the next morning, all the available force of the fort started in
pursuit of the Indians. Of course, they did not expect to find them at
the encampment of the night previous; so they took provisions and
ammunition along for several days' scout, in order, if possible, to
overtake the savages before they reached their own country. To this
end, Coleman was appointed to the command, and the march was among
those denominated by military men as _forced_.
When they reached the scene of the previous night's work, the evidence
was plain that the savages had departed in the night. This the hunters
detected by signs not to be mistaken by woodsmen; there was not a
particle of fire left, and the coals retained no warmth. The tracks of
the savages west of the fire, too, showed that they conformed to those
east of the fire, in appearance, whereas, those made by the hunters in
the morning looked quite differently. It was then evident that the
Indians had a start of some six or eight hours.
On the spot where the fire had been the small earthen paint-pot was
found, and in it a portion of mixed paint. Near the fire, numerous
articles were picked up:--several scalping-knives, one of which the
owner was evidently in the act of sharpening when the volley was
fired, as the whetstone was lying by its side; several tomahawks, a
powder-horn, and a number of other trifling articles. The ground was
dyed with blood, leaving no doubt remaining in regard to their
execution the night previous. They had both _killed and wounded_,--but
what number was to remain to them forever a mystery, for they carried
both dead and wounded with them.
This was a singular trait in savage character. They never left the body
of a dead or wounded warrior behind them, if by any possible human
agency it could be taken with them. If impossible to move it far, they
usually buried it, and concealed the place of burial with leaves; if in
an enemy's country, they removed the remains, even if in a state of
partial decay, on the first opportunity that offered. To prevent the
dead body of a brave from falling into the hands of an enemy appeared
with them a religious duty paramount even to sepulture. As an evidence
of this, Sam Brady, the celebrated Indian-fighter, once waylaid and
shot an old Indian on the Susquehanna who was accompanied by his two
sons, aged respectively sixteen and eighteen years. The young Indians
ran when their father fell, and Brady left the body and returned home.
Next morning, having occasion to pass the place, he found the body
gone, and by the tracks he ascertained that it had been removed by the
lads. He followed them forty miles before he overtook them, bearing
their heavy burden with the will of sturdy work-horses. Brady had set
out with the determination of killing both, but the sight so affected
him that he left them to pursue their way unharmed; and he subsequently
learned that they had carried the dead body one hundred and sixty
miles. Brady said that was the only chance in his life to kill an
Indian which he did not improve. It may be that filial affection
prompted the young savages to carry home the remains of their parents;
nevertheless, it is known that the dead bodies of Indians--ordinary
fighting-men--were carried, without the aid of horses, from the Juniata
Valley to the Indian burial-ground at Kittaning, and that too in the
same time it occupied in making their rapid marches between the two
points.
But to return to our party. After surveying the ground a few moments,
they followed the Indian trail--no difficult matter, seeing that it was
filled with blood--until they reached the summit of the mountain, some
six or eight miles from the mouth of the Gap. Here a consultation was
held, and a majority decided that there was no use in following them
farther. Coleman, however, was eager to continue the chase, and
declared his willingness to follow them to their stronghold, Kittaning.
This issue, successful though it was, did not fail to spread alarm
through the sparsely-settled country. People from the neighborhood
speedily gathered their families into the fort, under the firm
impression that they were to be harassed by savage warfare not only
during the winter, but as long as the Revolutionary struggle was to
continue. However, no more Indians appeared; this little cloud of war
was soon dispelled, and the people betook themselves to their homes
before the holidays of 1777, where they remained during the winter
without molestation.
It is said of old Tommy Coleman--but with what degree of truth we are
unable to say--that, about twenty years ago, hearing of a delegation of
Indians on their way to Washington, he shouldered his trusty old rifle,
and went to Hollidaysburg. There, hearing that they had gone east on
the canal packet, he followed them some three miles down the
towing-path, for the express purpose of having a crack at one of them.
This story--which obtained currency at the time, and is believed by
many to this day--was probably put into circulation by some one who
knew his inveterate hatred of Indians. An acquaintance of his informs
us that he had business in town on the day on which the Indians passed
through; hence his appearance there. His gun he always carried with
him, even on a visit to a near neighbor. That he inquired about the
Indians is true; but it was merely out of an anxiety to see whether
they looked as they did in days of yore. His business led him to
Frankstown, but that business was not to shoot Indians; for, if he
still cherished any hatred toward the race, he had better sense than to
show it on such an occasion.
He died at his residence, of old age, about fifteen years ago, beloved
and respected by all. Peace to his ashes!
[Illustration: ARCH SPRING.]