The overtures of the latter were made through Col. Guy Johnson—successor to Sir William—and through the great influence he possessed over them, he was able to induce them to take up arms against the peaceable and scattered inhabitants of the frontier. The number of Indians of the Six Nations who actually took up arms in favor of Great Britain, is estimated at about 1200. The whole number of Indians, of all tribes, who were employed by the British against the Colonies, was estimated by Captain Dalton, (Superintendent of Indian Affairs in 1783.) at 12,690.
The histories of the time, relate the terrible sufferings endured by the inhabitants of Tryon County. The valleys of the Schoharie, the Mohawk and the Susquehanna, were swept, year after year, by the Indians; villages were burnt—and, without discrimination of age or sex, the whites who were supposed to be favorable to the Colonial cause, were massacred. These events gave rise to the expedition of Gen. Sullivan into the Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca country, which was overrun and laid waste; and it was hoped that the Indians, having lost their provisions and stores, would cease their incursions upon the border settlements. But all such hopes were vain; the depredations were renewed, and continued until the end of the war. It is said by the author of the Life of Brant, that "two years before the close of the war, one-third of the population had gone over to the enemy—one-third had been driven from the country, or were slain in battle, and by private assassination. And yet among the inhabitants of the other remaining third, in June, 1783, it was stated at a public meeting held at Fort Plain, that there were three hundred widows and two thousand orphan children."
The country which is the immediate scene of the following narrative, was little known in the time of the Revolution. The maps of the period designated it as Indian country, and as an unexplored region. The Tienaderack, or Unadilla River—one of the tributaries of the Susquehanna—is given as the western boundary of the whites, beyond which are the villages and hunting-grounds of the Oneidas and Tuscaroras. It is into this unexplored region that we propose to conduct the reader. We cannot promise a strict fidelity to truth, in the precise incidents related in our narrative, but they have kindred features in narratives related by the ancient settlers of this valley. There are traditions, well authenticated, which might give rise to many of the incidents. With this general view of the condition of Tryon County, at the time of the Revolution, we will conduct the reader to that portion of it in which we are more immediately interested.
CHAPTER II.
"Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods
More free from peril than the envious court?
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam—
The season's difference."
AS YOU LIKE IT.
It was, then, in the early part of the month of October, 1783, that two travelers might have been seen, leisurely wending their way, on foot, southwardly, along a somewhat narrow valley, through which flowed a rapid but attractive river. That part of the valley which was now in their view, was not more than half a mile in breadth. On the west, the hills were low, and presented no peculiar attraction to the eye. On the east, however, they attained a loftier height, and, in the golden sunshine which fell from the autumn sky, excited the surprise and admiration of our travelers. From the position they occupied, they could trace the course of the valley for some six or seven miles, among the hills, which became bolder and loftier, until it was lost in a sudden turn to the westward. The river, along whose banks they had traveled for some ten or twelve miles, was here from four to six rods in width; and, as we have before observed, was attractive by the rapidity of its current and the frequent but graceful curves in which it pursued its course. The Indian name, which this river now bears, implies "the Pleasant River."
The forest about them exhibited much variety of vegetation; and among the trees which they observed, they saw fine specimens of the pine, which towered above the surrounding forest, in the graceful superiority of foliage and beauty. The maple, hemlock, beech, birch, walnut, and chestnut, were abundant. It was at just the season of the year when the leaf of the maple wears its choicest hue of red; and the beech and chestnut assume their "sere and yellow." Blending with these varieties, the unfading richness of the evergreen, it would excite no wonder, that the younger of our travelers, at least, beheld with admiration the gorgeous drapery which, in this climate, the forest assumes, preparatory to the desolation of winter.
The younger of the two persons to whom we have called the attention of the reader, might have been twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age. Of middle stature, he exhibited a frame of much symmetry and power; and it was apparent that he had been inured to labors which had fully developed health and strength. His face was somewhat embrowned by exposure to the weather; but his active and intelligent eyes, the firm compression of his lips, and the ready play of his countenance, as he listened to or answered some remark of his companion, made it apparent that he had at least bestowed some labor upon the cultivation of his mind; for inward discipline and culture always have their effect upon the outward bearing. Besides this, there was in his countenance an evidence of sincerity of purpose, which if it pursues but one path to attain its end, and that frequently an uncomfortable one, always triumphs over temporary difficulties. Ralph Weston—for that is the name of the young traveler—was ever honorable and upright, even where worldly "prudence" would have admitted of a slight departure from the rigid rules of propriety. He was not of that modern school, which makes expediency the touchstone of morality of conduct; but he always disclaimed the artifices to which men too frequently resort to hide the practices which are well enough in themselves, but which happen to contravene popular opinions or customs. But, with this serious turn of mind, he possessed a romantic disposition, which frequently led him into acts that excited the surprise of more sedate or less romantic acquaintances; but with no art, save a frank disposition, and a heart of sympathy and friendship, Ralph Weston always found "troops of friends" to whom he was little less than what we propose to make of him—a hero.
Ralph Weston, then, as might be readily supposed, in the dark hours when the Colonies were struggling for life, embarked his hopes and fortunes in the cause of his country. At the age of eighteen, he volunteered as a private soldier, and after serving a short time in this humble capacity, he had risen in rank, until at the close of the war, he held the commission of a captain. His maternal aunt (for he had neither father nor mother, both having died in his infancy) always insisted that he should have been a general, at least; and perhaps, if merit were always the true test of advancement, he would have attained a much higher rank. But while he was always foremost in danger, he was ever a laggard in the ranks of those who press eagerly forward for the spoils of victory, or the honors which are more often worn than deserved. But we will suffer the reader to become more intimately acquainted with him as we proceed in our history.
His traveling companion, however, cannot be dismissed without notice; for Ichabod Jenkins (familiarly called "Ike," by his too-presuming acquaintances) had no small idea of his own importance. At the time when he appears before us, he cannot be less than forty-seven or eight years of age; when standing erect, he is full six feet two in stockings; but as he generally appears in locomotion, you would make his height at about five feet ten. His frame was not, apparently, robust, and a stranger would have been surprised at any great indication of strength on his part; yet few in the neighborhood of his residence, on any public occasion, when feats of agility or strength were undertaken, would have dared to match him in any game where these qualities were necessary. Yet this was the least of Ichabod's merits, if his own judgment could be trusted.
In his earlier days, a long struggle had taken place in his mind between the love of wealth and literary pursuits. He recognized the distinctive antipathy between these two mistresses; yet neither of them had ever acquired a complete victory over the other; so he had compromised between them by uniting a course of such reading as could then be attained in general literature, with a strong speculative disposition, which desired to leap at once, and by one bound, from rags into purple. Now, it must be confessed, that Ichabod had succeeded about as well in one pursuit as in the other—and to which of his mistresses to