“Down with all redskins!” was their cry, and they moved upon Lancaster, where some Indians had taken refuge in the workhouse. The doors were battered down and all of the Indians slain, and then the Paxton Boys marched down to Philadelphia, to capture some of the enemy who had fled to that city. To hold the maddened frontiersmen in check, Benjamin Franklin aided in forming a body of militia, and these compelled the Paxton Boys to leave without further bloodshed. The killing of the friendly Indians was looked upon by the law-abiding citizens as an outrage and the feeling against the Paxton Boys was very bitter. On their side, the Paxton Boys contended that the Indians had all proved treacherous more or less and that “the only good Indian was the dead Indian,”—a saying that soon became a household word among a certain class of the communities. In many cases, after the meeting at Johnson Hall, the Indians were compelled to give up their captives, and this brought on numerous affecting scenes. Some women and children had been separated from their people for several years, and had made warm ties among the Indians. A number had even married red men and had children, and these did not want to separate from their husbands. Some little children had completely forgotten their real parents, and when taken from the Indians cried loudly, much to the distress of their mothers and fathers. “Look! look!” cried one poor woman. “My own child, my Bessie, does not know me!” “And look you!” said one man. “My Johanna has married an Indian and they have two children! I would rather she were dead!” And the settler turned and would have nothing more to do with his own flesh and blood. Tradition says of this man that in years after the Indian husband of his daughter saved him from being massacred during an uprising, and he was taken to safety by a grandson whom he had disowned. One day after another went by, and still the expedition under Joseph Morris wended its way westward through the wilderness. So far the weather had remained fine, but at the end of a week it began to thaw and then there set in a misty rain, disagreeable in the extreme. The trail was sloppy, and if a person slipped down he was bound to get wet through and through. “This is fine weather in which to catch cold,” grumbled Henry. The only thing he objected to when being out was rain. During the rain and mist, which lasted for two whole days, they made but slow progress. Each night they went into camp early, and spent several hours in getting dry and making themselves half comfortable. On the morning of the day when it cleared off, Henry and Dave were in advance, in company with Sam Barringford. They were looking for game, and hoped to stir up some rabbits, if not something larger. “I see some partridges!” cried Henry, presently, and was about to take aim, when a sudden loud snapping and snarling broke upon the air, coming from the forest on their left.