"Well, you see about thirty years ago, I left the blue ridge with a party of my neighbors to come down yer in the Sciota country, to see it, and lay plans to drive the cussed red skins clean out of it. Well, the red skins appeared rather quiet, what few we fell in with, and monstrous civil. But cuss the sarpints, there's no more dependence to be put in 'em than the cantankerous wolves, and roast 'em, I always sets old kit talkin' Dutch to them varmints, the moment I claps eyes on 'em. The wolf's my nat'ral inimy--I'd walk forty miles to git old kit a wolf skelp. Well, we travelled all over the valley, and we gin it as our opinion that the Sciota country was the garden spot o' the world, and if we could only defend ourselves 'gainst the inimy we should move right down yer at once. We went back home, and the next spring a hull settlement on us came down yer. My neighbors thought it best for us all to settle down together at Chillicothe, whar a few Ingin huts and cabins war. I had a wife, and son and da'ter; now, stranger, I loved 'em as dearer to me 'nor life or heart's blood itself. Well, the red skins soon began to show their pranks--they stole our cre'ters (horses), shot down our cattle, and made all manner o' trouble for the little settlement. At last I proposed we should build a clever-sized block house, strong and stanch, in which our wimen folks and children, with a few men to guard 'em, could hold out a few days, while a handful o' us scoured Paint hills and the country about, and peppered a few of the cussed red devils. We had been out some four or five days when we fell in with the inimy; it war just about sunset, and the red skins war camped in a hollow close by this spot. We intended to let 'em get through their smoking and stretch themselves for the night, and then squar our accounts with 'em. Stranger, I've lived in these woods thirty years, I never saw such a hurricane as we had yer last night, 'cept once. The night we lay in ambush for the _Ingins_, six-and-twenty years ago, thar came up a hurricane, the next mornin' eleven of the bodies of my neighbors lay crushed along the bottom yer, and for a hundred miles along the Sciota, whar the hurricane pa.s.sed, the great walnuts and sycamore lay blasted, root and branch, just as straight as ye'd run a bee line; no timber grow'd upon these bottoms since. Five on us escaped the hurricane, but before day we fell in with a large party of red skins, and we fought 'em like devils; three on us fell; myself and the only neighbor left war obliged to fly to the hills. I made my way to the settlement.

"Stranger, when I looked down from the hills of Paint creek, and saw the block house scattered over the bottom, and not a cabin standin' or a livin' cre'ter to be seen in the settlement of Chillicothe, my heart left me; I become a woman at once, and sot down and cry'd as if I'd been whipped to death." The old man's voice grew husky, and the tears suffused his eyes, but after a few sighs and a tear, he proceeded:

"Well, you see, stranger, a man cannot always be a child, nor a woman, either; my crying spell appeared to ease my heart amazin'ly. I shouldered old kit here, and down I went to examine things. The hurricane had scattered every thing; the fire had been at work too, but, great G.o.d! the b.l.o.o.d.y _wolf_ had been thar, the settlement was kivered with the b.l.o.o.d.y bones of my own family and friends; if any had escaped the hurricane, the fire or wolf, the _Ingins_ finished 'em, for I never seen 'em afterwards; I couldn't bear to stay about the place, I'd no home, friend, or kindred. I took to the woods, and swore eternal death to the red skins and my nat'ral inimy, the _wolf!_ I've been true to my word, stranger; that cabin is lined with skelps and ornamented with Ingin _top-knots!_ Look in, ha! ha! see there! they may well call old Chris the _Wolf Slayer!_"

The drover regaled his eyes on the trophies of the old forlorn hunter, and then visited the _perch_, which was situated close by a "deer lick,"

where wolves resorted to fall upon their victims. And from this _perch_ old _Wolf Slayer_ had made fearful work upon his nat'ral inimy the night previous. The old hunter a.s.sisted, during the day, to collect such of the scattered drove as yet were alive or to be found; the men came with another of their companions, and the small drove and men left the scene of terror and disaster, wishing a G.o.d-speed to the _Wolf Slayer_.

The Man that knew 'em All.

If you have ever "been around" some, and taken notice of things, you have doubtless seen the man who knows pretty much every thing and every body!

I've seen them frequently. As the old preacher observed to a venerable lady, in reference to _forerunners_, "I see 'em now." Well, talking of that rare and curious specimen of the human family, the man that knows every body, I've rather an amusing reminiscence of "one of 'em."

Stopping over night at the Virginia House, in that jumping off place of Western Virginia, Wheeling, some years ago, I had the pleasure or pastime of meeting several of the big guns of the nation, on their way from Washington city, home. It was in August, I think, when, as is most generally the case, the Ohio river gets monstrous low and feeble; when all of the large steamers are past getting up so far, and travelling down the river becomes quite amusing to amateurs, and particularly tedious and monotonous to business people, bound home. Three hundred travellers, more or less, were laying back at the "Virginia" and "United States," in the aforesaid hardscrabble of a city, or town, waiting for the river to get up, or some means for them to get down.

The session of Congress had closed at Washington, some time before, and as almost all of the M. C.'s, U. S. S.'s, wire pullers, hangers on, blacklegs, horse jockeys, etc., etc., came over "the National Road" to Wheeling, to take the river for Southern and Western destinations, of course the a.s.semblage at that place, at that time, was promiscuous, and quite interesting; at least, Western and Southern men always make themselves happy and interesting, home or abroad, and particularly so when travelling. It was a glorious thing for the proprietors of the hotels, to have such a host of guests, as a house full of company always is a "host," the guests having nothing else to do but lay back, eat, drink, and be merry, and foot the bills when ready, or when opportunity offers, to---- go.

They drank and smoked, and drank again, and told jests, and played games and tricks, and thus pa.s.sed the time along. Among the mult.i.tude was one of those ever-talkative and chanting men of the world, who knew all places and all men--as _he_ would have it. Just after removing the cloth, at dinner, a knot of the old jokers, baccha.n.a.lians and wits, settled away in a cl.u.s.ter, at the far end of a long table, and were having a very pleasant time. The man of all talk was there; he was the very _nucleus_ of all that was being said or done. He was from below, somewhere, on his way, as he informed the crowd, to Washington city, upon affairs of no slight importance to himself and the country in general.

"Oho!" says one of the party, a sly, winking, fat and rosy gentleman, whom we shall designate hereafter, "you're bound to the capital, eh?"

"Yes, _sir_," responded the man of all talk.

"Of course you've been there before?" says the interrogator, nudging a friend, and winking at the rest.

"_What?_ Me been in Washington before? Ha, ha! _me_ been _there_ before!

Bless you, me _been_ in Washington city!"

"Oho! ha, ha!" says the interrogator, "you're one of the caucus folks, eh? One of them wire pullers we read about, eh?"

"_Me?_ Caucus? Ha, ha! Mum's the word, gents, (looking killingly cunning.) Come, gentlemen, let's fill up. Ha, ha! me pulling the--ha, ha! Well, here's to the old Const.i.tution; let's hang by her, while there's a--a--a b.u.t.ton on Jabe's coat."

And they all responded, of course, to this eloquent sentiment.

"Here's to Jabe's b.u.t.tons, coat, hat, and breeches."

"Excuse me," continued the first operator, after the toast was wet down, "you'll please excuse me, in behalf of some of my friends here; as you've been down in that dratted place, and must know a good deal of the goings on there, I'd like to inquire about a few things we Western folks don't more than get an inkling of, through the papers."

"Certainly; go on, sir," says the victim, a.s.suming all the dignity and depth of a man that's appealed to to settle a ponderous matter.

"I'd like to inquire if those Kitchen Cabinet disclosures of the Pennsylvania Senator, were true. Had you ever any means of satisfying yourself that there is, or was, a real service of gold in the President's house?"

"Aye! that's what we'd all like to know," says another.

"How many pieces were there?"

"_What_ were they?"

"Aye, and what their _heft_ was?"

"Mum, gentlemen; let's drink--no tales out of school, ha, ha! No, no--mum's the word." And looking funny and deep, merry and wise, all at one and the same time, the man of all talk proposed to drink and keep---- _mum_.

But they wouldn't drink, and insisted on the secret being let out--they wanted a decided and positive answer, from a man who knew the ropes.

"Gentlemen," said the victim, dropping his voice into a sort of melo-dramatic stage whisper, and stooping quite over the table, so as to collect the several heads and ears as close into a phalanx as possible: "gentlemen, it's a _fact!_"

"What?" says the party.

"All gold!" says the victim.

"A gold service?" inquires the party.

"_Thirty-eight pieces!_" continued the victim.

"Solid gold?" chimed the rest.

"_Just half a ton in heft!_"

"You don't tell us _that_?"

"Know it; eat out of 'em, _then weighed 'em all!_"

"P-h-e-w!" whistled some, while others went into stronger exclamations.

"_Fact, by the great_ ----"

"Oh, it's all right, sir; no doubt of it now, sir," said the mover of the business, grasping the victim's upraised arm.

"Then, of course, sir, you're well acquainted with Matty Van; on good terms with the little Magician," continued the leading wag.

"_Me?_ me on good terms with Matty? Ha, ha! that is a good joke; never go to Washington without cracking a bottle with the little fox, and staying over night with him. _Me_ on good terms with Matty? _We've had many a spree together!_ Yes, _sir!_" and the knowing one winked right and left.

"Well, there's old Bullion," continued one of the interrogators, a fine portly old gent, "you know him, of course?"

"What, Tom Benton? Bless your souls, I don't know my letters half as well as I know old Tom."

"And Bill Allen, of Ohio?" asked another. "What sort of a fellow is Bill?"

"Bill Allen? Lord O! isn't he a c.o.o.n? Bill Allen? I wish I had a dime for every horn, and game of bluff, we've had together."

"Well, there's another of 'em," inquiringly asked a fat, farmer-looking old codger: "Dr. Duncan, how's he stand down there about Washington?"

"Oh, well, he's a pretty good sort of an old chap, but, gents, between you and I, (with another whisper,) there is a good deal of the 'old fogie' senna and salts about him. But then he's death and the pale hoss on poker."

"What, Doctor Duncan?" says they.