Part 2

4. The Indians saw that Columbus had told them the truth. They saw that they had offended the Great Spirit, and that he had sent a dreadful monster to swallow the sun. They could see the jaws of this horrible monster slowly closing to shut off their light forever. Frantic with fear, they filled the air with cries and shrieks. Some fell prostrate before Columbus and entreated his help; some rushed off and soon returned laden with every kind of provisions they could lay their hands on. Columbus then retired to his tent, and promised to save them if possible. About the time for the eclipse to pass away, he came out and told them that the Great Spirit had pardoned them this time, and he would soon drive away the monster from the sun; but they must never offend in that way again.

5. The Indians promised, and waited. As the sun began to come out from the shadow, their fears subsided, and, when it shone clear once more, their joy knew no bounds. They leaped, they danced, and they sang. They thought Columbus was a god, and, while he remained on the island, the Spaniards had all the provisions they needed.

_VII.--THE PEQUOTS._

1. Early in 1621 the Pilgrims who settled at Plymouth, Massachusetts, made a treaty with Massasoit, the chief of the Wampanoags, who inhabited the eastern part of the State. This treaty was observed by all the Indian tribes in the vicinity for a long time, and it was not until three years after the first settlers arrived in Connecticut that an Indian war broke out.

2. The Pequots were a small but very warlike tribe, living upon Long Island Sound, near the border of Rhode Island. These Indians attacked the settlers, and in 1627 they killed three men at Saybrook, and six men and three women at Wethersfield.

3. These things caused great alarm, and a council was called at Hartford to consider what was to be done. A force, consisting of ninety white men and seventy friendly Indians, under the command of Captain Mason, were sent against them.

4. They went down the Connecticut River from Hartford to Saybrook in boats, and thence eastward along the Sound to the Indian fort Mystic, near where Stonington now stands. They reached the spot about daybreak. The Pequots had no suspicion that an enemy was near. But as they reached the fort a dog barked, and the Indian sentinel called out, "Owanux! Owanux!" (Englishmen! Englishmen!), and the savages sprang to arms. The soldiers fired and killed many Indians, but it was a fight of the little army of whites against six hundred.

5. The Indians fought bravely, and Captain Mason, fearful of being defeated, called out, "We must burn them!" A torch was applied to a wigwam, and soon the whole fort was in flames. Seventy wigwams were burned, and six hundred men, women, and children perished.

6. A few Indians escaped, and, joining others of their tribe, took refuge in a swamp in Fairfield. Here the whites pursued them, and killed and captured nearly the whole tribe. The prisoners and all that remained alive of the Pequots, were divided and given to the Mohicans and the Narragansetts, two tribes friendly to the English.

_VIII.--SCHENECTADY._

1. In the winter of 1690 a small party of French and Indians made a raid upon Albany. They concluded to destroy Schenectady first. The people of Schenectady had been warned of their danger, but they would not believe that men would come from Canada, a distance of two or three hundred miles, through the deep snows of winter, to molest them.

2. But they were fatally deceived. A strong stockade, of more than a mile in length, was built around the houses which composed the village. This stockade had a gateway at each end, and these gateways were usually carefully guarded at night. But, believing themselves safe, the watchman became careless and went to sleep. The enemy arrived on Saturday night, and succeeded in getting within the stockade without giving any alarm. They divided themselves into small parties, so that every house might be attacked at the same instant. They entered the place about eleven o'clock.

3. The inhabitants were all asleep, and stillness rested upon the place. With a noiseless step the enemy distributed themselves through the village, and, at a given signal, the savage war-whoop was sounded. What a dreadful cry was this to the startled fathers and mothers of this unhappy town!

4. It is scarcely possible to describe the scene that followed. The people, conscious of their danger, sprang from their beds, but were met at the door and slaughtered by the savages; and the Indians, rendered frantic by the wild scene, ran through the place, slaying those they chanced to meet.

5. Sixty of the people were killed, and twenty-five were made prisoners. Some attempted to escape, but as they were in their night-clothes, and the night was very cold, only a part of them reached Albany, sixteen miles distant, the nearest point of refuge, and of these, twenty-five lost limbs by the cold. As the alarm was given, the Indians returned to Canada without an attack upon Albany.

_IX.--THE STORY OF MRS. DUSTIN._

1. In the winter of 1696 a party of Indians made an attack upon the town of Haverhill, Massachusetts. Among the people of that town was a Mr. Dustin. He was in a field at work, when the news of the attack reached his ears. He immediately started and ran to his house to save his family. He had seven children, and these he collected for the purpose of taking them to a place of safety before the Indians should arrive.

2. His wife was ill, and she had an infant but a week old. He now hurried to her, but, before she could get ready to leave the house, Mr. Dustin saw that a party of savages were already close by. Expecting that all would be slain, he ran to the door and mounted his horse, with the intention of taking one of his children--the one that he loved best--and flying with it to a place of safety.

3. But which should he take? Which of his seven children should he leave to the savages? He could not decide, and therefore, telling the children to run forward, he placed himself between them and the Indians. The Indians fired at him, but they did not hit him. He had a gun, too, and he fired back at them.

4. Then he hurried his little children along, loading his gun as he went, and firing at his pursuers. Thus he proceeded for more than a mile--protecting his little family, defending himself, and keeping the enemy at a distance. At length, he reached a place of safety, where the children were beyond the reach of the Indians. His feelings were divided between joy for the escape, and grief for the poor wife left behind.

5. But Mrs. Dustin was destined to undergo the severest trials. Although she was very ill, the savages compelled her, with the nurse and her little infant, to go with them. They soon left the town of Haverhill, and set out to go to the homes of the Indians. These were at a distance of one hundred and fifty miles. It was winter, and the journey was to be taken on foot through the wilderness.

6. Mrs. Dustin and the nurse were soon overcome with fatigue. The Indians, seeing that the little infant occupied much of their attention, snatched it from its mother, and killed the little innocent by striking it against a tree. After a toilsome march, and the greatest suffering, Mrs. Dustin and her companion completed the journey.

7. But now the Indians were to remove to a distant place, and these two women were forced to accompany them. When they reached the end of their journey, they found out that they were to be tortured. They then resolved to make their escape.

8. One night Mrs. Dustin, the nurse, and another woman rose secretly while the Indians were asleep. There were ten of them in the wigwam where they were. These the women killed with their own hands and then departed. After wandering a long time in the woods, they reached Haverhill, and Mrs. Dustin was restored to her family.

_X.--ROGERS'S SLIDE._

1. Major Rogers, a brave patriot, commanded a corps of rangers in the winter of 1758. He was stationed on Lake George. One day he started with a few men to spy out the position of his Indian foes.

2. A band of Indians surprised the party, and put them to flight. Major Rogers, by the aid of his snow-shoes, was able to gain the summit of a hill overlooking the lake. At this point the lake is narrow, and the rocks are piled up in huge masses. One crag rises to the height of about four hundred feet, with an almost perpendicular surface, sloping down to the lake below.

3. The major knew that the Indians would follow rapidly on his track. When he reached the brow of the cliff he quickly cast off his knapsack and haversack, and sent them sliding down the icy path. He then took off his snow-shoes, and, without moving them, turned himself about and put them on his feet again. He retreated along the brow of the hill for several rods, and down a ravine he made his way to the lake, found his pack, and fled on the ice to Fort George.

4. The Indians arrived at the spot, saw the two tracks, and supposed that two people had cast themselves off the rock rather than be captured. Just then they saw the bold ranger making his way across the ice, and believed that he had safely slid down the steep face of the rock. They thought that the pale-face must be protected by the Great Spirit, and made no attempt at pursuit. The rock has ever since been known as Rogers's Slide.

_XI.--GENERAL CLINTON'S MARCH._

1. In the War of the Revolution, the Indians belonging to the Six Nations, living in Central and Western New York, mostly joined the British. For several years parties of Tories and Indians, every little while, would attack the frontier settlements and murder the settlers. In 1778 General Sullivan was sent into the country around Seneca Lake to break up the hostile force, and, if possible, to drive the Indians out of the country. A part of this force, under the American General Clinton, started from the Mohawk Valley to join Sullivan in Southern New York.

2. The march was through an unbroken wilderness. As there were no roads, their provisions were loaded into boats and floated up the small streams, and there the freight, boats, and all, were carried by the men to the head-waters of another stream. They had little trouble until they reached Otsego Lake, and from this point they expected less, as the outlet of the lake formed the Susquehanna River, and on this river, far below, they expected to join Sullivan. But the weather was hot, and for many weeks there had been no rain. The river had not water enough to float the boats, and for a time Clinton thought he would be obliged to turn back.

3. But at last he hit upon a scheme that promised success. He built a dam across the river just where it flows out of the lake. His soldiers rolled in great bowlders from the fields, and filled the spaces between with brush and clay. The water could not flow out freely, and the lake began to rise. In three weeks it was six feet above its summer level. The boats were then made ready, with the provisions and men on board, and the dam was torn down. The waters flooded the banks of the narrow stream, and the whole party were carried down to the place of meeting with Sullivan in safety.

4. The Indians along the stream saw this sudden rise of waters, and they were much frightened. No rain had fallen, and the only way they could account for it was that the Great Spirit had sent the waters to help the white men, and they everywhere fled in the greatest alarm. General Clinton did not meet one armed enemy until he joined Sullivan, and the combined army met no opposition until they reached the spot where Elmira now stands. Here a battle took place, in which the Indians were defeated. Upon the return of Sullivan from his successful raid into the Indian country, he was obliged to kill his horses for want of forage, and the place where the horses' skulls lay for a long time has since been called Horseheads.

_XII.--FRANCES SLOCUM._

1. In 1778 the Tories and Indians made an attack upon the little settlement of Wyoming, on the Susquehanna River, in Pennsylvania. The fort was captured, and nearly all the prisoners--men, women, and children--were murdered in cold blood. Every house was burned, and the few people who escaped into the woods, went through terrible trials before they reached a place of safety. Most of the savages had bloody scalps hung to their belts, to show that they had taken part in the battle and the murder that followed.

2. Near the scene of the Wyoming battle lived a Quaker, named Slocum, who had been a great friend of the Indians. For a time no one troubled him; but early one morning some Indians came down, scalped a boy, named Kingsley, and carried away Frances, Mrs. Slocum's little daughter, five years old. Soon after, Mr. Slocum was also murdered. The mother stayed in the valley, hoping to hear of her lost child. When peace came, two brothers of the lost one went to Canada in search of her, but all their inquiries were in vain, and they gave her up as dead.

3. But the mother still hoped on. She was certain that Frances was still alive. Other captives were found, but the mother went down to her grave without any tidings of the child that had been so cruelly taken from her. The brothers became aged men, and little Frances was almost forgotten.

4. In 1837, fifty-nine years after her capture, an Indian agent and trader gave an account of a white woman living with the Indians near Logansport, Indiana. Joseph Slocum and a sister at once set out for Ohio, where they met their younger brother, Isaac. The three then went on to Logansport, where they learned that the white woman lived about twelve miles distant. She was sent for, and the next morning she came riding into town upon a spirited young horse, and accompanied by her two daughters. She could not speak English, and an interpreter was found. She listened to what her brothers had to say, but did not answer. At sunset she started for her home, but promised to be back in the morning.

5. She came, true to her promise. The mother had told Joseph years before of one sure test. When they were little children Joseph, then a child two and a half years old, while playing with a hammer gave Frances a blow upon the middle finger of the left hand, which crushed the bone and deprived the finger of the nail. When Joseph told this incident the aged woman was greatly agitated, and, while tears streamed down her face, she held out the wounded finger. There was no longer a doubt. The love for her kindred which had slept for more than fifty years was aroused, and she eagerly inquired after her father, mother, brothers, and sisters.

6. Her full heart was opened, and she freely gave the story of her life. She said the savages took her to a cave in the mountains the first night. She was kindly treated, and was tenderly carried in their arms when she was weary. She was adopted by an Indian family, and brought up as their daughter. For years she had led a roving life, and she liked it. She was taught the use of the bow, and soon learned all the arts of the Indian household. When she grew up, her Indian parents died, and she soon afterward married a young chief of the nation.

7. She was treated with more respect than Indian women generally are; and she was so happy in her life that the greatest evil she feared was that she should be obliged to go back to the whites, whom she regarded as the Indians' worst enemies. Her husband was dead, and she had been a widow many years. Children and grandchildren were around her, and life was passing pleasantly away. When she finished her story, she lifted her right hand in a solemn manner and said, "All this is as true as that there is a Great Spirit in the heavens!"

8. The next day her brothers and sister went out to visit her at her home. She was living in a well-built log-house, which was surrounded by cultivated fields. She had a large herd of cattle and sixty horses. She had saved her share of the annuity which the Government paid the Indians, and had about one thousand dollars in specie. Her white friends stayed with her several days, and had a delightful visit. Afterward Joseph, his wife, and daughter paid her another visit, and then bade her a last farewell. She died about 1844, and was buried with great honors, as she was regarded as a queen by her tribe.

_XIII.--OBED'S PUMPKINS._

1. Moving was serious business ninety years ago, when the Moore family migrated to Ohio, for everything had to be carried hundreds of miles in a wagon, and there was no sending back for anything forgotten. So Obed prudently secured passage for some pumpkin-seeds, lest a failure of pumpkin-pies for Thanksgiving might annul that festival altogether in the unknown wilderness.

2. There was only one room in their new house, and no regular up-stairs at all--only a loft where the boys slept, and to which they had to climb on a ladder when they went to bed. Ruth and Dolly slept in the trundle-bed down-stairs.

3. That first winter was a hard one, but nobody really suffered. Mr. Moore was clearing up his land, so they had an abundance of fuel; the boys trapped rabbits, and their father's musket kept them supplied with other game, but Mrs. Moore had to measure the flour and meal very carefully, and as for other things, they went without, only once, when Obed found a squirrel's nest in a hollow tree, and came in with his pockets full of nuts.

4. "Little did that rascal know who he was gathering these for," he remarked, as they cracked them on the hearth that evening. "Yes, and maybe it's little you know who you'll raise your pumpkins for. Injuns, like as not," said Joe.

5. One morning Dolly declared that she had been wakened in the night by mice in the chimney-cupboard. "It _can't_ be mice; we're too far from neighbors," said Mrs. Moore, opening the cupboard. Joe climbed upon a chair behind her, and there on the topmost shelf were some nibbled scraps of cloth and paper.

6. "O Obed!" he exclaimed, in dismay, "your pumpkin-seeds are all gone!" Just then there was a rustle, and he caught sight of two bright, black eyes. They saw him, too, and another rustle gave him a vanishing glimpse of a bushy tail. "It's squirrels!" he shouted; "Obed, they've come to get their pay for the nuts you stole." "Oh, dear!" said Obed, "I'd rather have my pumpkin-seeds than all the nuts that ever grew. We never shall taste pumpkin-pies again, now."

7. Weeks afterward they were burning out some stumps in the clearing, when out from a hollow one popped a squirrel. Obed ran to investigate, and, poking around and pulling away the rotten wood, brought to light some rags and bits of paper. "Hello!" he exclaimed, "the identical chap that carried off my pumpkin-seeds!" And sure enough, there were the empty shells, and among them--oh, for a vision of the smile that lighted Obed's freckled face!--three whole, sound seeds.

8. All their crops did well that first year, and the way those pumpkin-vines bore was a marvel; but no abundance could shake Obed's resolve to reserve the first pumpkin-pies for Thanksgiving.

9. On the preceding Monday, Mr. Moore started for the nearest village to purchase winter supplies. With many brave assurances and secret misgivings, his family saw him set out, for the journey required two days, and the Indians were growing threatening of late. But when the first night had worn away in safety, they began to feel easier, and gave themselves up to the Thanksgiving preparations.

10. "O Obed!" said Joe, as late in the afternoon he staggered into the house under a huge yellow pumpkin, "let's make some jack-lanterns; 'twon't hurt the pumpkins for pies." Obed assented, and they had just completed those grotesque horrors, and were going out to do the chores, when a man galloped up, and everybody rushed to the door.

11. "Get ready for the redskins!" he shouted, springing from the saddle, "and give me a fresh horse. They killed a family down the river last night, and nobody knows where they'll turn up next! Husband away? Whew! that's bad! Well, shut up as tight as you can. Cover up your fire, and don't strike a light to-night." And, leaping upon the horse the boys led around, he flew away to warn the next settler.

12. They made what hasty preparations they were able, and Mrs. Moore reluctantly yielded to Obed's urgent plea that she would keep the younger children quiet in the loft, while he and Joe watched below.

13. The two boys crouched beside the hearth listening to every sound. At last Obed crept to the window. A snow-flurry had whitened the ground early in the evening, and, as he peered out, the boy descried shadows moving across the fields. "They're coming, Joe!" he whispered; "stand by that window with the axe, while I get the rifle pointed at this one."

14. Joe noiselessly stationed himself, and Obed opened the bullet-pouch. As his fingers came in contact with the leaden balls, his heart chilled. They were too large for his rifle! They belonged to the musket, and his father had taken the wrong pouch. With a last despairing hope he was feeling in the cupboard for any chance balls that might have been left behind, when he stumbled over something that nearly threw him headlong. It was the forgotten jack-lantern. With a sudden thought he pulled off his coat and flung it over the face of the lantern, then searching in the ashes for a live coal, cautiously lighted the candle within and closed the opening. With every sense sharpened to its utmost, he lifted the pumpkin and went softly toward the window. Ten or twelve dusky figures were stealthily nearing the house, and at the same instant he detected a slight noise at the door.

15. "They'll sound the war-whoop in a minute, if I give them time," he said to himself. "Now for it!" And he dropped the coat, leaving the grinning monster exposed to view. Mrs. Moore, listening with bated breath in the room above, just then heard an unearthly yell and fainted dead away. "Quick, Joe! Light up the other one!" exclaimed Obed, excitedly, as he saw the savages flying wildly back to the woods.

16. Joe, with every hair on end, was still standing valiantly at his post, his uplifted axe ready to fall on the first head that should risk an entrance. He had paid no attention to Obed's movements, and was momentarily expecting to hear the roar of the old rifle.

17. "The other jack-lantern! Don't you see that's what scar't 'em so?" demanded Obed as, emboldened by his success, he bobbed the hideous thing up and down before the window. Joe finally comprehended, and, speedily lighting the second one, imitated Obed's lively evolutions with such effect that, when Mrs. Moore came-to, the yells were dying away in the distance, and she heard Obed climbing the ladder.

18. The anxious mother now gathered her family in the room below, and watched patiently for daylight and her husband. They came together, and the story had to be told all over again. "And so," added Joe, "Obed did raise his pumpkins for the Injuns, after all."

STORIES OF THE REVOLUTION.

_XIV.--THE GASPÉ._

1. Just before the Revolution, the British ship-of-war Gaspé was sent to Narragansett Bay to see that the trade was all right there. Lieutenant Duddington was the commander, and he annoyed the traders as much as possible. He would order a vessel to stop, go on board of her, and, having seen that everything was right, would go off with words of insult instead of apology. The Governor of Rhode Island ordered Duddington to let the trading-vessels alone, but the pert little officer only laughed at him. Next the Governor appealed to Admiral Watson, and received an insulting reply.