The late Mr. Maguire, then quite a lad, was at Shaver's Creek when they pa.s.sed on their way west. They were all in full Highland costume, with bonnet and kilt, armed with claymores and Queen Anne muskets. He had seen Indians before, but never any Highlanders, and, while listening to their Gaelic dialect, he wondered to himself what tribe they belonged to.

These men settled in the upper end of the valley; hence the name--"Scotch Valley." By their sinewy arms and st.u.r.dy blows the oaks of the forest fell, and by their unremitting toil to gain a home in the New World they encountered and triumphed over the most formidable obstacles, until the valley--its natural soil taken into consideration--became one of the finest of its size in the country.

The Moore family were the first persons who conceived the idea of running arks down the river from Frankstown. This they accomplished successfully before the close of the last century, and afterward engaged in running flat-boats between Frankstown and Middletown.

Of the third generation of the Moore family but three remain in this vicinity,--viz.: T. B. Moore, in Hollidaysburg; Jesse Moore, at the old homestead, in Scotch Valley; and Johnston Moore, in Ebensburg. Others, however, live in the West; and the fourth generation, whose number we are not able to compute, are scattered over the Union.

The descendants of the men who wound their way up the Juniata, in Highland costume, nearly three-quarters of a century ago, with all their worldly possessions upon pack-horses, are also numerous; and many of them have risen to wealth and eminence by their own unaided exertions.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WOODc.o.c.k VALLEY--Ma.s.sACRE OF ELDER--THE BRECKENRIDGE FAMILY--FIGHT WITH, AND DESTRUCTION OF, CAPTAIN PHILLIPS'S SCOUT BY THE INDIANS--CRUEL Ma.s.sACRE OF TEN MEN.

Woodc.o.c.k Valley, located north of Huntingdon, is one of the oldest-settled valleys in the county. In the days of Indian depredations, it was a favorite haunt of the savage, whose great war-path from the West to the East went through a part of it.

The first murder committed in it during the Revolutionary struggle occurred at Coffey Run, near the present residence of Mr. Entriken. The victim was a man named Elder, the husband of the woman mentioned in a preceding chapter as having been carried a captive to Detroit by the Indians. As there is no living witness who was present, the circ.u.mstances connected with his ma.s.sacre are merely traditionary. He was on his way home in company with Richard Shirley, when he was shot and scalped; in which condition he was found by a scouting party a day or two after the occurrence. This was in 1778, and the same year a number of captives were taken from the valley; but the accounts are so vague that we can give no reliable data.

The Breckenridge family lived about three miles south-east of McConnelstown, on the road which now leads from Huntingdon to Bedford, on the farm at present occupied by Ludwig Hoover. The family consisted of the father, mother, two sons,--John and Thomas, aged respectively eighteen and sixteen years,--a girl aged fourteen, another aged three years, and an infant at the breast. They had, during the alarms of ma.s.sacres, forted at Hartsock's Fort, which was almost in sight of their farm; but in the spring of 1779, the alarm having in a great measure subsided, they, as well as the rest of the settlers, went home, and the fort was abandoned, under the full impression that they would have no further use for it,--that Indian depredations were ended. In this they were most signally mistaken.

In July--probably about the middle of the month,--one morning, directly after breakfast, the sons, John and Thomas, started in search of a horse that had broken from his enclosure the night previous. After they had gone, the old lady occupied herself in her household duties, while the oldest daughter repaired to the spring-house in the meadow,--a distance of probably five hundred yards from the house,--for the purpose of churning. While engaged in this occupation, she was suddenly confronted by five Indians. Probably overcome by fright, she made no effort to escape, but screamed at the top of her voice. The father, without suspecting the real cause of the difficulty, started, unarmed, in the direction of the spring-house, and when within twenty yards of it a bullet from one of the Indian rifles struck him, and he fell dead in the path. Mrs. Breckenridge was looking out of the window at the time, and, fearing that their next move would be in the direction of the house, she s.n.a.t.c.hed the infant out of the cradle, and, taking in her arms the other child, escaped. Instinctively she took the path toward Standing Stone,--a direction in which the Indians were not likely to follow. She pursued the path along Crooked Run for a few miles, and then sank exhausted upon the ground. As soon as she rallied, she endeavored to continue her way to the Stone; but to her dismay she found that she had wandered from the path and was lost. In this condition, she wandered about the woods with her children the whole day and the entire night. Next day, the oldest child complained bitterly of hunger, when the mother fortunately came to a rye-field. The rye was just beginning to head, in spots, and she gathered a number of heads, rubbed out the kernels, and gave them to the child. As the operation was a tedious one, in consequence of the scarcity of the grain, she took off her under-garment, wrapped up the infant and laid it down, and went to work to procure sufficient to appease the appet.i.te of the child, and while so engaged she unconsciously wandered a considerable distance from the infant.

John and Thomas returned to the house with the horses late in the afternoon; and, seeing their father and sister murdered, believed that the mother, with the other children, had either met the same fate or been carried into captivity. They lost no time in making their way to Standing Stone Fort, where they communicated the sad intelligence. By that time it was nearly dark, and entirely too late to make any further effort; but at the dawn of day, next morning, a posse of men went to Breckenridge's house, where the murdered father and daughter lay, and, while part of the people employed themselves in removing the bodies preparatory to burial, another party scoured the country in search of the mother, being encouraged to do so by seeing her tracks leading toward Crooked Run. Late in the afternoon they found her, at the edge of the rye-field, leading her child; but the anguish she had endured had in a measure unsettled her mind, and she was unable to tell where she had left the infant. It was deemed advisable to remove her to the fort. By next day, she had so far recovered as to be able to state that she left the infant in the field; whereupon a party set out, and returned with it in the evening.

The infant had apparently not suffered a great deal, except from the annoyance of flies. _Its entire face was fly-blown_; and yet, strange to say, she recovered, grew to be a strong, healthy woman, got married, and was the mother of Isaac B. Meek, Esq., formerly a member of the legislature from Centre county, and, we are told, died but a few years ago.

John Breckenridge became a distinguished Presbyterian preacher. Mr.

Maguire was under the impression that he located among his relatives in Kentucky; but Dr. Junkin, of Hollidaysburg, whose knowledge of church history cannot be questioned, informs us that he officiated for many years in the first Presbyterian church ever built in Washington City.

Woodc.o.c.k Valley was the scene of the ma.s.sacre of Captain Phillips's scout,--one of the most cruel and cold-blooded murders on record,--a ma.s.sacre which hurried into eternity ten as brave men as ever ranged the woods of the Juniata Valley.

The following is Colonel Piper's official report of the ma.s.sacre, made to President Reed. It contains no particulars, and is also inaccurate; nevertheless, we deem it worthy of a place, as it bears an official stamp. We copy it from the Archives of 1780:--

_Bedford County, August 6, 1780._

SIR:--Your favor of the third of June, with the blank commissions, have been duly received; since which we have been anxiously employed in raising our quota of Pennsylvania volunteers, and at the same time defending our frontiers. But, in our present shattered situation, a full company cannot be expected from this county, when a number of our militia companies are entirely broken up and whole townships laid waste, so that the communication betwixt our upper and lower districts is entirely broken, and our apprehensions of immediate danger are not lessened, but greatly aggravated by a most alarming stroke. Captain Phillips, an experienced, good woodman, had engaged a company of rangers for the s.p.a.ce of two months, for the defence of our frontiers, was surprised at his fort on Sunday, the 16th of July, when the captain, with eleven of his company, were all taken and killed.

When I received the intelligence, which was the day following, I marched, with only ten men, directly to the place, where we found the house burnt to ashes, with sundry Indian tomahawks that had been lost in the action, but found no person killed at that place; but, upon taking the Indian tracks, within about one half-mile we found ten of Captain Phillips's company, with their hands tied, and murdered in the most cruel manner.

This bold enterprise so alarmed the inhabitants that our whole frontiers were upon the point of giving way; but, upon application to the Lieutenant of c.u.mberland county, he hath sent to our a.s.sistance one company of the Pennsylvania volunteers, which, with the volunteers raised in our own county, hath so encouraged the inhabitants that they seem determined to stand it a little longer.

We hope our conduct will receive your approbation; and you'll please to approve it by sending your special order to our county commissioner to furnish these men with provisions and other necessaries until such times as other provisions can be made for our defence. As Colonel Smith will deliver this, I beg leave to recommend you to him, as he is very capable to give full satisfaction to you, in every particular, of our present circ.u.mstances.

I have the honor to be,

With all due respect,

Your Excellency's most ob't

And very humble servant,

JOHN PIPER.

Overlooking the fact that Colonel Piper, in this semi-official statement, did not even condescend to mention the name of a single one of the brave men who fell by the hands of the ruthless savages, is it not a little strange that the whole report should be filled with gross inaccuracies, not the least of which is that Captain Phillips was killed, when it is notorious that he returned after the war--having been taken prisoner,--and people are still living in the valley who saw him many years after the ma.s.sacre of his scout?

Captain Phillips, previous to the disaster, resided near what is now Williamsburg. He was a man of some energy, and a skilful and experienced woodman. He had made a temporary fortress of his house, to guard against savage incursions, and his usefulness in protecting the frontier was duly appreciated by the settlers. Through the influence of some of the most prominent men about Clover Creek, Colonel Piper was induced to give Mr. Phillips a captain's commission, with authority to raise a company of rangers to serve for two months, as it was known that there was a large body of savages somewhere in the valley, unmistakeable traces of their presence having been seen at many places along the river.

Captain Phillips commenced recruiting men immediately on the reception of his commission; but, owing to the fact that it was just the beginning of harvest, he met with very little success. By the 15th of July, 1780, he had but ten men collected; but with these he determined to scout through Woodc.o.c.k Valley and the Cove, in order to protect the farmers in harvesting their grain. To this end he distributed ammunition and provisions, and the party marched from the Cove across the mountain. On entering the valley, they found most of the houses abandoned, but no signs of Indians. Late on Sat.u.r.day evening they arrived at the house of one Frederick Heater, which had been abandoned by its owner. The house had been pierced with loopholes, to serve as a temporary fortress in case of necessity, but the proprietor, unable to find sufficient men to garrison it, had fled to Hartsock's Fort. At this house Captain Phillips determined to remain over Sunday. The entire force consisted of Captain Phillips, his son Elijah, aged fourteen years, Philip Skelly, Hugh Skelly, P. and T. Sanders, Richard Shirley, M. Davis, Thomas Gaitrell, Daniel Kelly, and two men whose names are no longer remembered. After partaking of their supper they all stretched themselves out on the floor and slept soundly until morning. While preparing their morning meal, one of the Skellys happened to open the door, when he discovered that the house was surrounded by Indians. A glance sufficed to show Captain Phillips how matters stood. There were not less than sixty Indians, and among them two white men, dressed, decorated, and painted, the same as the savages. The captain at first supposed they were marauders, and would probably not stop; but the hope was most delusive. A small shower of rain having fallen the day previous, this savage war-party had tracked Phillips and his men to the very door of Heater's house. Phillips commanded the utmost silence, and awaited with breathless anxiety the further movements of the enemy. Through the window he discovered the savages grouped upon an eminence--some ten of them armed with rifles, and the remainder with bows and arrows--in consultation. Directly one of the savages fired his rifle, which was evidently a _ruse_ to draw the men from the house; but it did not succeed. At last one of the Indians ventured within rifle-range of the house, when Gaitrell, unable to resist the temptation, thrust the muzzle of his rifle through one of the loopholes, fired, and shot him through the left shoulder. The war-whoop was then raised, and the savages ran to and fro for a while, concealing themselves behind trees, some seventy yards from the house, under the impression probably that an immediate action would take place.

No further demonstrations being made by the rangers, the Indians waited but a short time until, at a preconcerted signal, they fired a volley at the door and window of the house, both of which were riddled by the bullets, but no person was injured. The scout, in this agony of suspense, surrounded by a large body of savages, with the greatest bravery stood at the loopholes, and whenever a savage showed himself within rifle-range he was shot at. In this manner two were killed and two wounded. The Indians, in the mean time, continued firing at the door and window; and in this way the fight continued until about the middle of the afternoon, when Philip Skelly shot the chief through the left cheek at a distance of nearly a hundred yards. This so exasperated the Indians that they raised the war-whoop a second time, loud and fierce, and appeared determined to have vengeance.

At this juncture an occurrence took place which seems almost incredible; yet Captain Phillips, whose statement we are giving, vouched for the truth of it, and he was unquestionably a man of veracity. Davis had the muzzle of his rifle out of a loop-hole, and was intently watching for a chance to shoot, when he felt a sudden jarring of the rifle. He withdrew it, and found a sharp-pointed, tapering hickory arrow driven into the muzzle so tight that it took the combined efforts of four men to withdraw it. Whether this new method of spiking a gun was intentional or not, it ill.u.s.trated most forcibly the wonderful power of the Indian over the bow--whether he fired at the rifle or the loop-hole.

The Indians, finding it impossible to dislodge the rangers from what appeared a stronghold in every sense of the word, by all stratagems yet used, affixed dry leaves and other combustible matter to arrows, set fire to them, and lodged them upon the roof of the house, which soon was on fire in two or three places. The men carried up all the water in the house, and subdued the flames from the inside; but the water was soon exhausted, and a fresh volley of the fire-arrows set the roof in a blaze, and there were no longer means within their reach to quench the destructive element. Still the rangers stood at the loopholes, even when the upper part of the house was all on fire. Certain death stared them in the face; they dared not go out of the house, for they would expose the weakness of their force and meet instant destruction as soon as they pa.s.sed over the threshold; on the other hand, the fire above them was raging, and they did not know what moment they would be buried beneath the burning timbers. And yet the men never flinched. But, at last, Captain Phillips, seeing the desperate strait to which they were reduced, cried for quarter, and told the savages that he would surrender, on condition that his men should be treated as prisoners and not injured. To this the Indians a.s.sented, and the men escaped from the house just in time to save their lives from fire, but only to meet a death equally shocking.

The spokesman for the Indians--one of the white renegades--demanded, in the first place, that all their arms should be delivered up. To this the men readily agreed; and they handed their rifles and knives to the savages. The next demand was that they should suffer themselves to be pinioned, in order that none might escape. This degrading proposition met no favor with the men; but they were compelled to submit, and their hands were secured behind their backs by strong thongs. In this condition they started--as the Indians said--for Kittaning; but, after getting half a mile from the house, some five or six of the Indians, who had Captain Phillips and his son in charge, continued on their route, while the remainder ordered a halt. The ten men were then tied to as many saplings, and two or three volleys of arrows were fired into them.

The fate of the scout was not known until Tuesday.

Some persons pa.s.sing Heater's house on Monday morning, seeing it in ruins, carried the news to Hartsock's Fort. An express was sent to Colonel Piper, who arrived on the ground with a small force late on Tuesday. About the house they found a number of tomahawks, knives, and other articles, which indicated that an action had taken place; but the fate of the men could not be conjectured.

Finally, some one discovered the tracks, and proposed following them, which they did, and found the men at the place designated, each man with from three to five arrows sticking in him. Some of them had not been killed outright, and it was apparent that their struggles to get loose must have been most desperate. Kelly was one of these, who, in his efforts to free himself, had buried the thong in the flesh of his arm. All of the men were scalped. They were buried on the spot where they appeased the savage appet.i.te for blood; and their mouldering bones still repose there, without even the rudest of stones to commemorate the sad event or perpetuate their memory.

Phillips, in consequence of his rank, was taken prisoner, as at that time officers brought to the British garrison commanded an excellent price. Himself and son were taken to Detroit, and from thence to Montreal, and did not reach their home until peace was declared.

Some of the friends of the persons ma.s.sacred were disposed to find fault with Captain Phillips, especially as the ma.s.sacre was so general and yet he and his son had escaped. Of course, Phillips not being present to defend himself, the talk was so much on one side that some went so far as to stigmatize him as a traitor and a coward. On his return, he gave the true version of the affair; and it must be admitted by all that, under the circ.u.mstances, he did all that a brave officer could do to save the lives of his men. Their fate weighed heavily on his mind for the balance of his life; and in the thought of their untimely end he forgot all the sufferings and privations he endured while a prisoner in the camp of the enemy.

CHAPTER XXIX.

WATER STREET--THE BEATTY FAMILY--CAPTAIN SIMONTON--Ma.s.sACRE OF THE DEAN FAMILY--CAPTIVITY OF JOHN SIMONTON, ETC.

Water Street is an old place, and was settled prior to the Revolution.

A stream of water from the Canoe Mountain, supposed to be the Arch Spring of Sinking Valley, pa.s.ses down a ravine and empties into the Juniata at this place. For some distance through a narrow defile, the road pa.s.sed directly through the bed of this stream,--a circ.u.mstance which induced the settlers to call it Water Street when the original settlement was made.

This for a long time was an important point, being the canoe-landing for the interior country. Hence the name of Canoe Valley, applied to the country now known as Catharine township, in Blair county. At this place was General Roberdeau's landing, where he received his stores for the lead mines, and where he shipped the lead-ore to be taken to Middletown for smelting.

The number of persons living about Water Street and in the lower end of Canoe Valley, during the Revolution, was fully as great as at the present day.

Among the first settlers was Patrick Beatty. He was the father of seven sons, regular flowers of the forest, who never would fort during all the troubles, and who cared no more for an Indian than they did for a bear. They lived in a cabin about a mile west of Water Street.

It is related of John, the oldest son, that, coming through the woods one day, near his home, he met two Indians in his path. They both aimed at him, but by successful dodging he prevented them from shooting, and reached the house. He found one of his brothers at home; and the two, seizing their rifles, started out after the Indians, and followed them sixty miles, frequently getting sight of them, but never within shooting distance. The Indians knew the Beattys, and feared them, for a more daring and reckless party of young fellows never existed in the valley.

It is a remarkable coincidence that of the Beattys there were seven brothers, seven brothers of the Cryders, seven of the Ricketts, seven of the Rollers, and seven of the Moores,--const.i.tuting the most formidable force of active and daring frontier-men to be found between Standing Stone and the base of the mountain.