With this command he counted not only upon protecting the frontier; but if all peaceful means failed, at an opportune time of rescuing his son and little Dorothy. His plantation, well up the mountain side, was the first settlement on the trail coming over the mountain from the Kanawha country, and at night half a dozen men used his barn as barracks, while he and his two servants slept in the house, their rifles within easy reach of their beds. A guard of three men was also placed in the mountain pass to watch the trail and give warning. Signal flags were set upon John Calvin Rock to give warning by day and a great pile of wood and timber, ready for flint and steel, was placed upon its summit to give a blaze of warning by night. On the night of the thirtieth of July, the party in the barn were awakened by Indians stealing the two horses. They gave the alarm by firing at them just as they were leaving the lot, and then followed up the mountain trail in close pursuit, occasionally taking a shot when a rolling stone or the noise made by the horses indicated the location of the marauders. The shooting warned the guards at the pass, and they, at close range, making out the figures of the Indians even in the darkness, killed one and recovered one of the horses. When daylight came, Mr. Campbell and his two servants scoured the western mountain side in search of the other horse and found him. He had been shot through the fleshy part of the neck and the halter rope was entangled in a laurel bush. While they were examining his wounds, Jerry, who had followed them, kept up an incessant barking and growling in a thick cluster of laurels. Investigating the cause they found an Indian, shot through the chest and murmuring in unconscious monotone. Richard said: “Let’s kill him, he is going to die any way and a dead Indian is always a good Indian.” But Mr. Campbell forbade it, not only from kindness of heart but with the hope that from him he might learn news of the children. He was placed upon the horse; and supported on either side by his captors was carried to the Campbell home. There, exhausted and delirious, he was put to bed in a small shed used as a store room. After two weeks’ careful nursing he began to recover and shortly after Mr. Campbell was told by the Valley doctor: “In a few days you will have a dangerous Indian on your hands, but he is yet too weak to leave his bed.” The morning after the doctor’s visit Mr. Campbell found the bed empty and the patient gone. Scratched on the wall in charcoal, he read: “One white man good to Indian; before cahonks fly bring back papoose. Tah-gah-jute.” Tah-gah-jute, son of Skikellemy, a Cayuga Indian chief, was born in 1725, at Shamokin, on the Susquehanna. He was given the name of Logan, after John Logan, then Secretary of the Pennsylvania Colony, a man who many times had shown himself a friend of the Cayugas.