The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the WigwamFrost, John
History
The Indian: On the Battle-Field and in the Wigwam
Frost, John
Indians of North America
About this time as my brother with another adventurer, who came to
explore the country shortly after us, were wandering through the forest,
they accidentally found our camp. Notwithstanding our unfortunate
circumstances, and our dangerous situation, surrounded by hostile
savages, our meeting fortunately in the wilderness gave us the most
sensible satisfaction.
Soon after this, my companion in captivity, John Stuart, was killed by
the savages, and the man who came with my brother, while on a private
excursion, was soon after attacked and killed by the wolves. We were
now in a dangerous and helpless situation, exposed daily to perils and
death, among savages and wild beasts, not a white man in the country but
ourselves.
Although many hundred miles from our families, in the howling
wilderness, we did not continue in a state of indolence, but hunted
every day, and prepared a little cottage to defend us from the winter.
[Illustration: 0267]
On the 1st of May, 1770, my brother returned home for a new recruit of
horses and ammunition; leaving me alone, without salt, bread, or sugar,
or even a horse or a dog. I passed a few days uncomfortably. The idea of
a beloved wife and family, and their anxiety on my account, would have
disposed me to melancholy if I had further indulged in the thought.
One day I undertook a tour through the country, when the diversity and
beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every
gloomy thought. Just at the close of the day, the gentle gales ceased;
a profound calm ensued; not a breath shook the tremulous leaf. I
had gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and looking around with
astonishing delight, beheld the ample plains and beauteous tracts below.
On one hand I surveyed the famous Ohio rolling in silent dignity, and
marking the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable grandeur.
At a vast distance I beheld the mountains lift their venerable brows
and penetrate the clouds, All things were still. I kindled a fire near
a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on the line of a buck which I
had killed a few hours before. The shades of night soon overspread the
hemisphere, and the earth seemed to gasp after the hovering moisture. At
a distance I frequently heard the hideous yells of savages. My excursion
had fatigued my body and amused my mind. I laid me down to sleep, and
awoke not until the sun had chased away the night. I continued this
tour, and in a few days explored a considerable part of the country,
each day equally pleasing as the first. After which I returned to my old
camp, which had not been disturbed in my absence. I did not confine
my lodging to it, but often reposed in thick cane brakes to avoid the
savages, who I believe frequently visited my camp, but fortunately for
me in my absence. No populous city, with all its varieties of commerce
and stately structures, could afford such pleasure to my mind, as the
beauties of nature which I found in this country.
[Illustration: 0269]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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