The Indian Captive: A narrative of the adventures and sufferings of Matthew Brayton in his thirty-four years of captivity among the Indians of north-western AmericaBrayton, Matthew
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The Indian Captive: A narrative of the adventures and sufferings of Matthew Brayton in his thirty-four years of captivity among the Indians of north-western America
Brayton, Matthew
Brayton, Matthew, 1818-1862; Indian captivities -- West (U.S.); Shoshoni Indians -- History; United States -- Biography
On letting me go they gave me a suit of white men's clothing instead
of my Indian costume, leaving me nothing but my stone pipe and my
scalping knife. Nawah and I at once set out on our adventures, and my
steps were directed towards the place where the Paw Paw family was
said to reside. I found them after walking for two days, and then was
directed to a small village of Pottawottomies in Branch county,
Michigan. I walked to the place described, sleeping in the woods at
night as had been customary with me, but I soon found that I could no
longer do so with safety. With my long hair cut off and without my
blanket and furs, I was unprepared for camping out. The result was
that I caught a severe inflammation in my eyes that increased to an
extent threatening my sight. I could no longer bear the light and had
to walk with my head down.
On reaching the Pottawottomies I found they consisted of four families
and their chief, Mr. Macgwagor. They had settled down to civilized
life and were living as farmers. Mr. Macgwagor remembered the whole
transaction in relation to my purchase from the Canadian Indians, he
having been present at the transfer. He said the Canadian Indians had
stated at the time that they had taken me from the south side of Lake
Erie, and that, from their description, the party had probably brought
me from Ohio, as they spoke of having crossed the Sandusky river
during the journey on which they fell in with me.
On learning this I set out for Detroit and crossed over into Canada,
but without obtaining much farther information among the few
semi-civilized Indians and half-breeds that I met with there. All I
could gather was that I had probably been taken from somewhere in the
vicinity of Cleveland.
I now retraced my steps to Detroit and proceeded into Ohio, telling my
story as I went and requesting information. At Fremont I fell in with
a man who listened to my story with attention and remarked that he had
formerly heard of a family named Todd, who had lost a little boy from
the neighborhood of Cleveland a number of years ago. Acting under his
suggestions, on the following day I got on the railroad train and came
to Cleveland, where I arrived in the latter part of August.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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