Not all Indians were grateful, especially when maddened by lust for war and vengeance. In the gray light of the dawn of the morning, after the fierce conflict at Point Pleasant, the savage who, because of his greed for scalps, had skulked behind when his fellows had crossed the river the night before, bore little resemblance in his war paint to the Indian David Allison once had warmed and fed within the walls of the stockade on a cold winter night; but he instantly recognized his benefactor. For hours David Allison had lain unconscious in the place where he had fallen. During the night he had regained consciousness, but could make no outcry louder than a moan. He had thought to drag himself toward the camp where he might attract the attention of his comrades, but had failed, and lay back against a fallen tree, his face gray and ghastly. The morning mists hung low over the river, and, under cover of these, the savage paddled away unobserved, his captive lying in a faint on the bottom of the canoe. No prisoner ever received kinder treatment at the hands of an Indian than did David Allison. As he gradually regained his strength he yearned for home and pleaded to be taken back to Virginia, but his captor was obdurate; he wanted the man for a companion and in many ways gave evidence of affection for him. One day, in a quarrel with another savage, the Indian was killed. Shortly after, Allison made his escape and in a canoe drifted down the Ohio. He felt unequal to attempting to work his way back as he had come and so decided to go with the current down the Ohio into the Mississippi. His utmost endurance and shrewdness were put to many severe tests before he reached a white settlement and eventually New Orleans. There, when about to take ship for Norfolk, he was taken sick with a fever which left him without strength or money. The desire to return home, whatever might be the sacrifice, became almost a mania with him, but he would not beg his way. And so he struggled on, meeting with disappointment again and again, yet never yielding in his purpose. Then, on the threshold of success, when he landed in Philadelphia without money and without friends, he was taken seriously ill. By what seemed the merest chance Elizabeth learned of him, and it was through her efforts and sacrifices that he was spared, to enjoy in the comforts of home and family, years, scant in number but abundant in happiness.