Here I beheld another hard scene, for as soon as we landed, my little boy, who was still mourning and lamenting about his little brother, and who complained that he was injured by the fall in descending the bank, _was murdered_. One of the Indians ordered me along, probably that I should not see the horrid deed about to be perpetrated. The other then took his tomahawk from his side, and with this instrument of death killed and scalped him. When I beheld this second scene of inhuman butchery I fell to the ground senseless, with my infant in my arms, it being under and its little hands in the hair of my head. How long I remained in this state of insensibility I know not. The first thing I remember was my raising my head from the ground and feeling myself exceedingly overcome with sleep. I cast my eyes around and saw the scalp of my dear little boy, fresh bleeding from his head, in the hand of one of the savages, and sank down to the earth again upon my infant child. The first thing I remember, after witnessing this spectacle of woe, was the severe blows I was receiving from the hands of the savages, though at that time I was unconscious of the injury I was sustaining. After a severe castigation, they assisted me in getting up, and supported me when up. The scalp of my little boy was hid from my view, and in order to bring me to my senses again they took me back to the river and led me in knee-deep; this had its intended effect. But, "the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel." We now proceeded on our journey by crossing the island, and coming to a shallow place where we could wade out, and so arrive at the Indian side of the country. Here they pushed me in the river before them, and had to conduct me through it. The water was up to my breast, but I suspended my child above the water, and, with the assistance of the savages, got safely out. Thence we rapidly proceeded forward, and came to Big Buffalo; here the stream was very rapid and the Indians had again to assist me. When we had crossed this creek, we made a straight course to the Connoquenessing Creek, the very place where Butler, Pa., now stands; and thence we travelled five or six miles to Little Buffalo, which we crossed.