We now return to the log house at Hardscrabble and to the dreadful occurrences which took place there on that eventful afternoon. After the fishing party had passed up the river beyond the farmhouse a wandering band of Indians appeared at the door of the cabin, and according to the custom of savages they entered and seated themselves on the floor without ceremony. Their deportment was sullen and unfriendly, and this circumstance aroused the suspicions of the men in the cabin. One of them, the Frenchman Debou, remarked to Liberty White: "I do not like the appearance of the Indians; they are none of our folks. I know by their dress and paint that they are not Potawatamis." Another one of the white men, the discharged soldier, then said to the boy Lee: "If that is the case we had better get away from them if we can. Say nothing, but do as you see me do." As the afternoon was then far advanced, the discharged soldier passed out of the house and walked in a deliberate manner down the path toward the canoes tied up at the river bank, accompanied by the boy Lee. Some of the Indians inquired where they were going. The soldier pointed to the cattle standing among the haystacks on the opposite side of the river and made signs that they must go over and fodder them and that they would then come back and get supper for them all. The boy got into one of the canoes while the man took possession of the other. The stream was narrow and they quickly passed over to the eastern side. Here they pulled some hay from the stacks for the cattle, and made a show of collecting them together, and when they had gradually made a circuit so that their movements were concealed by the haystacks they made a run for the woods which were near at hand and directed their course toward the fort as fast as their legs could carry them. When they had covered a distance of a quarter of a mile in their flight they heard the sound of two gunshots, which they readily conjectured were fired by the strange Indians upon the two men, Liberty White and the Frenchman Debou. The man and boy did not slacken their speed until they had reached the river somewhere near the present location of State Street bridge. Here they paused long enough to call out to John Burns, then living in a cabin on the north bank of the river near that point, to hasten to the fort with his family, as the Indians were killing and scalping up the river at Lee's place. Mrs. John Kinzie was at the Burns house at that moment to render what aid she could to Mrs. Burns, who but a few hours before had been delivered of a child. She instantly left the house and ran to her own home, a quarter of a mile distant, to give the alarm and procure help for the sick woman. She found the family awaiting her return, the table spread for supper, while Mr. Kinzie was playing on his violin and the children dancing before the fire.