USA > Pennsylvania > Westmoreland County > History of Westmoreland county, Pennsylvania, Vol. I > Part 12
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HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
most prisoners. He procured from one officer a pocket compass which he gave to a prisoner named James Flock, who escaped, and by the aid of the compass, made his way back to Westmoreland county through an al- most endless wilderness, finally arriving at his home long after his friends had given him up for dead. Clifford was in Montreal two years and a half when he was exchanged. He then made his way back to Ligonier valley, having been gone three years. He lived to be an old man and was respected by all who knew him. He is buried in the old Fort Palmer cemetery, one of the oldest graveyards in the county. He died in 1816. He was a soldier of the Revolution.
The year before the father Charles was captured, his son James left Fort Ligonier to hunt game, having with him a very sagacious and well- trained dog. The dog all at once showed signs of scenting an enemy and came to his master whining and snarling as though something was wrong. He continued to advance along the path in the forest, but with a very watchful eye. In front of him stood a large tree with thick bushes growing about its stem. Behind these he saw an Indian crouching stealthily and
Gun with which James Clifford shot Indians. At his death Clifford bequeathed it to his nephew and namesake, James Clifford, late of Lockport, Pennsylvania, and it is now owned by his heirs.
waiting for him to come nearer. He saw instantly that to turn back or to stop would be to draw the Indian's fire, and perhaps with a fatal result. So he walked on, whistling in an unconcerned way, but slowly fetching his rifle down by his side and cocking it. When this was done he fired quickly at the Indian, though almost entirely concealed by the bushes, then turned and ran to the fort, where he found his father and Captain Shannon talking about the noise of the firing. The captain immediately started out with a party of fifteen or twenty men to try to get the Indian, either dead or alive. They found that he had not been killed, but they tracked him by the blood on the ground, and found that he was twisting
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HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
leaves and forcing them into the wound to stop the flow of blood. It was evident from the loss of blood that he could not survive long, but from his not being found it was surmised that he had not been alone, but had been carried off by others who were with him. Not long after this Robert Knox, Sr., one of the first settlers of the valley, had a conversation with a renegade who asked Knox who it was who killed the Indian, mentioning the circumstances. Knox told him it was one of his neighbor's boys. This shooting happened near Bunger's spring, at Ligonier. The Cliffords are the ancestors of the well known Clifford family in Westmoreland county.
Fort Walthour was one and a half miles west of Adamsburg, and was properly a blockhouse, built by the surrounding neighbors for temporary safety. It was in the midst of a Pennsylvania Dutch settlement, and clustering around it were the cabins of the settlers. For some weeks the settlers had been stopping there at night and going to their fields to labor in the daytime. The account of the killing of the Williards is well auth- enticated. Captain Williard, his daughter, a young woman well grown, and two sons, were working in the fields near the fort, which stood on Walthour's land. One morning in 1786 there suddenly appeared a small band of Indians who began firing on them. The Williards seized their guns and ran towards the blockhouse. The daughter was overtaken, but the father and sons fired as they retreated, and, when very near the fort, the old man was killed by a shot from an Indian at close range. The Indian ran up, placed his foot on the prostrate man, and was just about to scalp him, when a shot from the fort hit the Indian in the leg or hip; with a frightful yell he fled to his companions, but it was noticed that he limped at every step. He was pursued, but succeeded in hiding himself among the bushes and thus evaded his pursuers. There he lay for three days, until the citizens had given up finding him. Then he crawled out and secured a long stick which he used for a cane or crutch. Living on berries, roots and bark, and traveling mostly at night, he approached Turtle Creek, where there was a garrison. It is probable that he would have given himself up had the soldiers at the garrison been regulars, but they were militia, as he noticed, and they were much more severe on Indians than regulars were. They had no sympathy for an Indian, and would have made short work of him. For thirty-seven days after the killing of Williard this wretch had wandered over the hills, creeping most of the time. and having nothing to eat except what he could find in the woods. At length he reached Pittsburgh and practically gave himself up. He was a mere skeleton, so weakened that he could only ask for milk. When he was partially recovered, after considerable beating about, he practically admitted that it was his party who had attacked the Williards, and related the circumstances as given above.
After the Indians were driven away from Fort Walthour, a party
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HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
pursued them to the Allegheny river, but could not follow them beyond that. On their way they found the body of the daughter who had been captured. She had been killed with a tomahawk and scalped. This still further aggravated the feelings of the community towards the Indians, and when at length it was learned that the limping Indian was a prisoner in Pittsburgh, a new party was organized to bring him to justice. This was headed by Mrs. Williard, widow and mother of the victims of the recent incursion. They went to Fort Pitt, and asked that the Indian be given to them that they might do with him as the relatives of the Williards thought proper. He was accordingly given into their custody. The Indians did not carry on war according to any recognized methods of war-
fare, and hence were not supposed to be entitled to the protection of the law when caught. There was, furthermore, a feeling in the Walthour community that the Fort Pitt authorities should have killed him at once.
When the Indian was delivered to them he was put on a horse and brought to the Walthour blockhouse. The Williards were deservedly very popular. The old man was remembered with that high esteem which usually surrounds those whose advancing years have been years of use- fulness. The young girl was just blooming into womanhood and had as many friends and as bright prospects as any maiden in the neighbor- hood. Here then was the opportunity to avenge their cruel murder. The entire populace was aroused. The Indian and his guard arrived late in the afternoon. To add to the occasion, it was determined that he should have a trial by jury, and should suffer the penalty which they by their verdict decreed. It is probable that the jury would not have been entirely unprejudiced, for to be an Indian alone was sufficient to con- demn him to death. The prevalent opinion was that he would be burned at the stake, which was the Indian method adopted a short time before in disposing of Colonel Crawford and many others. But a night must elapse before an impartial jury could be summoned. A deputy was sent out to procure a jury for the trial the next day. Others were detailed to cut and carry wood to the place where the old man Williard had fallen. This, in our highly censorious modern age, might have been considered as unduly presumptive of the verdict, but firewood of a good dry quality could be used for other purposes if not needed in carrying out the mandate of law.
Now the Indian had fallen from the horse in bringing him from Fort Pitt, and had apparently rebroken or badly injured his lame leg. Therefore the guard which was detailed to keep him in the blockhouse over night did not watch him as closely as they should have done. He climbed up the logs of the building to the place where the second story projected and was left open to shoot down on Indians who might try to break in below. From there he climbed down the outside and was gone. In the morning a jury was present; the populace, women and children, had come from long
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distances, the firewood was ready, in fact they had every thing for a first- class trial and immolation except the Indian. After the outbreak of feel- ing against the guards had passed, a most exhaustive search was instituted. This extended in every direction and lasted for two days, yet it failed to reveal the whereabouts of the prisoner and his hiding place is to this day a mystery. On the fourth day after the escape of the Indian a lad in the community near by was looking for his horses when he saw an Indian mounting one of them by the aid of a pole and a fallen tree. The Indian had made a bark bridle, and at once set off towards the frontier at a rapid gait. The boy was afraid to claim the horse, but hurried home and gave the alarm. A searching party was collected and set out in pursuit. They followed his tracks till darkness compelled them to lay by till morn- ing came, when the search was again resumed. The Indian frequently rode in the middle of streams, or turned the wrong way, to mislead his pursuers. They traced him to the Allegheny River, a distance of about ninety miles, where they found the horse with the bark bridle. The horse was yet warm, the sweat not having dried on him, and it was evident that the Indian had left him but a short time before. Across the river the country was entirely unsettled and belonged to the Indians, so it was useless to follow him further. With the hope that he had drowned in the river, or famished in the wilderness, or that his wound had wrought his death, they returned and nothing definite was ever heard of the lame Indian.
The murder of the Francis family was one of the most inhuman and barbarous incidents in border warfare. The family resided two miles or more east of Brush Creek. There had been no special alarm on ac- count of Indians for some months, and their usual vigilance was some- what relaxed. On the day of the murder they did not have their cabin barricaded, and a party of Indians therefore very easily gained access. Two of the family were killed at once, and the remaining members were taken prisoners. One was a young girl who lived to return to the settle- ment, where she was married and has left descendants in Hempfield town- ship. Her brothers and sisters were divided among several tribes repre- sented among the captors. Those who were killed were scalped and their bodies were found near the ruins of the cabin the day following. They were buried in the garden, a custom then prevalent among the pioneers, and which lasted till regular cemeteries or graveyards, as they were called, were established.
In the fall of 1795 Captain Sloan, John Wallace, his nephew, and two neighbors named Hunt and Knott, all citizens of Derry township, and near neighbors on the banks of the Loyalhanna, concluded to make a trip to the west. All were expert woodsmen, and were perhaps somewhat tired of their monotonous home life. Their objective point was the Miami Valley, in Ohio. They did not go to fight Indians, but went thoroughly
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HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
armed for self-protection. They took with them two horses which carried an abundance of provisions. They rode the horses time about, particularly after the store of provisions was somewhat lightened. Their first point of destination was Cincinnati, which they reached without noteworthy adventure. After leaving there they camped at night on the banks of the Big Maumee. The next morning Knott and Sloan were riding and were fired on by a large band of Indians who were concealed near by. Knott was killed at the first shot, and Sloan was shot through his left side. Hunt was captured after a very short run, but Wallace continued to run, and gained on his pursuers until his foot caught in a root and threw him vio- lently to the ground. In his fall he also lost his gun. Sloan, though wounded, managed to capture the frightened horses and rapidly galloped after Wallace. When the latter fell, Sloan stopped both horses, but Wal- lace was so weakened he could not mount. Sloan then dismounted to as- sist him, and this delay gave their pursuers time to almost overtake them. They were again fired at but not wounded, and the frightened horses soon galloped far away from the Indians. They knew that Fort Wash- ington was the nearest place they could secure a surgeon, yet they went to Fort Hamilton first, to warn them of the Indians presence. There they remained till morning, but as they were about to ride out by break of day they found the fort entirely surrounded by Indians. There were several hundred Indians, and only a small garrison of about fifteen men, under the command of a young officer of little or no military experience. The Indians knew this and demanded a surrender. The young officer favored a surrender but told Sloan he should take the forces and make a defense if he thought proper. Sloan held a conference with their leader from the top of the fort, and told them of their provisions and that they expected reinforcements. After considerable conversation through an interpreter he refused to surrender.
The Indians then fired on the fort and set up a warwhoop which meant that no quarter was to be shown to those in the fort should they be over- come. The fort had been built by General Arthur St. Clair, only four years previous, and was yet strong enough to resist their firing. The firing continued all day, but the Indians were at a safe distance from the fort, and likely but one of them was killed. At night they tried to burn the fort, but this attempt was also unsuccessful. Near the fort was a stable where the horses were kept, and where their cattle used as beeves were fed. Projecting past the corner of the stable was a corncrib. An Indian con- cealed himself behind this corncrib and watched the openings of the fort very closely, firing now and then at the port holes. It was discovered that the Indian was anxious to leave his place behind the corncrib, and feared to do so while the upper porthole which commanded his retreat was occupied. Sloan it was who was watching him. His wounded side
HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
bothered him a great deal, so that he had others load his gun for him. In- tending to deceive the Indian, he fired at the point of a gun which the Indian was exposing for the purpose of drawing Sloan's fire. When Slcan fired the Indian came out in full view and started to run to his associates, for he supposed that Sloan could not fire again till he reloaded his gun. But Sloan had two guns, the second to surprise the Indian with should he appear after the first fire. The Indian ran but a few steps in view until a- shot from Sloan's second gun laid him cold in death. Another Indian took Sloan's horse from the stable, and, putting on Sloan's cocked hat, which was lost the day before in the chase, rode round and round the fort but at a safe distance from it. Finally the whole band went away after killing all the cattle and taking all the horses belonging to the garrison and both of Sloan's as well. The dead Indian at the corncrib was left be- hind, for no one would venture near enough to take his body. The band left, it is presumed, because they feared the arrival of reinforcements. Sloan and Wallace went to Fort Washington, where a surgeon treated the captain's side, but, though it was temporarily healed up, he suffered with it till the day of his death. Hunt was never heard of again. Sloan and Wallace returned to their more peaceful homes on the Loyalhanna. and spent their lives here in our county. Sloan was elected sheriff of Westmoreland county. Before leaving Fort Hamilton he scalped the Indian he killed at the corncrib, and for many years afterwards the scalp was on exhibition at gatherings in Sloan's section of the county.
After the close of the Revolutionary War and after the burning of Han- nastown in 1782, there was really but little mischief done by the Indians in Westmoreland county as it now exists, or rather, we should say, little in comparison with what was done before. Often a stray Indian or even a band of three or four came through to steal horses, capture settlers and secure scalps, but these incursions were so few and far between that the general fear of the Indians on the part of our settlers had almost subsided. This was due largely to the return of our soldiers from the Revolution, who were now sufficiently strong to thoroughly defend the western bor- der and to deter the Indians from attempting to overrun this section.
But in 1790 the Indians in Ohio succeeded in badly defeating the army of General Harmar, and the following year achieved a still greater victory over the army of General St. Clair. These victories inspired the Indians with confidence, and they began a series of incursions which were only stopped when General Anthony Wayne won a signal victory over them at the battle of Fallen Timber, in 1794.
Resulting from the boldness of the Indians brought about by the suc- cess of 1790 and '91, our people suffered in several sections, and the raiders came so near Greensburg that a blockhouse was built there in 1792, though the other forts and blockhouses in the county were rapidly going
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HISTORY QF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
into decay. Several white settlers were captured, some horses were stolen, and one or two citizens were murdered. The only instance of these incursions after 1791, and indeed, the only one after the burning of Han- nastown, of which we have any definite information, is that of the capture and murder of the Mitchell family in Derry township. They had come here in 1773 and purchased lands on the banks of the Loyalhanna, east of the present town of Latrobe. Their house is said to have been two miles east of Latrobe, on the line of the Ligonier Valley Railroad. The family in 1791 consisted of the mother and two children, Charles and Susan, aged respectively seventeen and fifteen years. The husband and father had been dead some years, and his defenseless family was living alone. A band of four Indians approached the house while Charles and Susan were in the stable. They noticed the Indians approaching, and Charles tried to escape by running toward the Loyalhanna. They all ran after and soon captured him. While this was going on Susan hid herself under a large trough used in feeding horses, where she remained quietly, and though the In- dians all looked for her they failed to discover her hiding place. They then captured the lonely old mother and started hurriedly away to the north, for they knew that their depredations would soon be generally known, and that a party of rescuers much larger than their band could soon be raised to follow them. They soon found that Mrs. Mitchell was too old to keep up with them in their hurried trip north. To turn her back would be but to give assistance to the pursuers in following them, yet it appeared that they did not want to kill her in the presence of her son. So two of them pushed on with the son, and, it being about dark, they kindled a fire. The other two loitered behind with Mrs. Mitchell. While the advance party were standing around the fire the two who remained behind came up. One of them was carrying the bloody scalp of the prisoner's mother. He pro- ceeded to stretch it over a bent twig and dry it at the fire in presence of the boy with as little compunction as though it had been the scalp of a wild animal. In Armstrong county they came upon the tracks of two white men. Both Charles and the Indian who was guarding him saw them at a distance, and young Mitchell recognized them as Captain Sloan and Harry Hill, both of whom were neighbors to the Mitchells on the banks of the Loyalhanna. The ground was covered with snow, and Sloan was a large man with very large feet, so his tracks in the snow were so unusually large that the Indian measured them with a ramrod. His exclamations of surprise led Charles to tell him that it was the track of the big Captain Sloan, the great Indian fighter. The band concluded from this not to try to capture them, but pushed on in another direction. Later in the day Sloan and Hill discovered the tracks of the Indians, and also that they had a white prisoner, judging from his tracks. They concluded that to run them down would insure the death of the prisoner, and therefore, with no
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fear for themselves, they wisely determined not to pursue. The boy was taken to the Cornplanter tribe and there adopted by a squaw who had lost her own boy in the war. He was compelled to obey her as though he had been her son. They made him hoe corn and do all kinds of work which usually fell to the hard lot of a squaw. After three years he escaped from them and returned to his old home, where he was afterwards married and there remained till he died, at a good old age. He often told how a band of Indians crossed a large swollen stream when they had no canoes. They cut a long slender sapling and placed it on the shoulders of two of their tallest and strongest men, one at each end. The smaller men and squaws held on to the pole, their places being between the two men at the ends. If one should slip he could draw himself up by the pole, for it was not likely that all would be carried down at once.
While the efficient Lieutenant Blane was commander of Fort Ligonier in 1763, several parties of Indians claiming to be friendly visited the fort, and were always treated kindly by the lieutenant and his forces. On one of these visits, at least, they were accompanied by a young warrior named Maidenfoot. While there a pioneer named Means, with his wife and daughter, the latter a young girl of eleven years, also entered the fort.' Maidenfoot was greatly pleased with the young girl. From her he learned that she lived about a mile south of the fort, and on leaving her he gave her a string of beads, which as an Indian he must have valued very highly. It was noticed, too, that in talking to the girl he seemed very sad and heartbroken, as though her bright young face touched a tender place in his memory. The beads were preserved by the girl as an Indian present, and often worn as ornaments, which were somewhat rare in the new settlement.
One day late in May or early in June, Mrs. Means, and her daughter started again to the fort, but this time to remain, for there was a rumor of Indians in the neighborhood. The girl, as may be supposed, wore her beads around her neck. When they were nearing the fort they were captured by two large Indians who took them into the woods a short distance and bound them to saplings with deer thongs. They were warned to keep quiet or they would be tomahawked at once. Very shortly after this they heard the report of many rifles from the direction of the fort, as though an at- tack had been made on it by a band of Indians. It was even so, for Pon- tiac's Indians had arrived and were then making the first of their many assaults on Captain Blane and his limited force. The battle raged for several hours but the fortress was not injured. Late in the afternoon Maidenfoot appeared before the prisoners, sent perhaps to take their scalps. He recognized them at once, because of the string of beads, and unbound them. Then he conducted them in a roundabout way to their home, where they were met by their husband and father, Mr. Means.
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HISTORY OF WESTMORELAND COUNTY.
Maidenfoot told them that their only safety depended on their flight to the mountains, and pointed out to them, towards the south, a safe place for them to hide. He told them further, that the band would soon be gone, and that they need only remain there a short time. Mr. Means and his fam- ily lost no time in going to the ravine pointed out by Maidenfoot, and there remained till the Indians had passed on. Before he left them the young warrior took the handkerchief of the girl, and on it was worked in black silk her name, Mary Means.
Time passed on ; the county was more thickly settled, and Mr. Means and his family removed to Ohio, where he purchased a larger tract of land not far from where the city of Cincinnati is built. There the father and mother of the girl died, and she grew to womanhood and was married to an officer of the Revolutionary period, named Kearney. They owned and tilled the land left by their parents. Kearney commanded a company under Gen- eral Anthony Wayne at Fallen Timber. After the battle was over, as he and some of his soldiers were looking over the field, they came to an elderly Indian who, while sitting on a log, waved a white handkerchief over his head. Some of Kearney's companions would have shot him at once, but the captain interfered and approached him. The Indian told them that he had been an Indian warrior all his life, that he had fought at Ligonier, at Bushy Run, at Hannastown, at Wabash against St. Clair, and at Fallen Timber. Now that he was old he asked only peace; that he had buried the hatchet and would fight no more; that he had done his share of fighting in defense of his race, and thereafter meant to live at peace with all mankind. Search was made of his possessions, which revealed that he had in his bullet pouch a handkerchief with the maiden name of Captain Kearney's wife ("Mary Means") worked on it in black silk letters. The story of the beads, and how they saved the life of his wife when a child, had been often told to the husband. Upon learning that the Indian had once been known by the name of Maidenfoot, he took him to his home. His wife and the Indian recognized each other, though thirty-one years had passed since they had parted on that gloomy morning in Ligonier Valley. All these years the woman had treasured her beads because they had once saved her life, while the Indian had treasured her handkerchief from an- other reason, which he disclosed on further acquaintance. He said that but a short time before he met the young girl in the fort he had lost his sister, about her age and size ; that when he gave her the beads he adopted her as his sister, though he had no desire to take her from her parents. This young girl touched a tender chord in his memory. Maidenfoot was taken into the family of Captain Kearney. . He was always cheerful, and readily adapted himself to the customs of his near friends. In about four years he died of consumption, and was buried with military honors in a
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