CHAPTER VI.

ADVENTURES AMONG THE SAVAGES.

THE council House was about sixty feet long, and twenty broad, having large doors at each end. When the prisoners entered they found it very much crowded with chiefs and warriors. The first ceremony observed was the bringing of a number of kettles containing cooked hominy of which the chiefs partook, and of which the prisoners were invited to participate. After a long silence, the Indians began to speak to each other in a solemn manner. The captives were unable to understand their remarks, but the gestures used caused them considerable alarm. The massacre by Williamson was a matter which, it was guessed, occupied the greater part of their deliberations, and it was feared that a bloody revenge would be wreaked upon those who had fallen into the hands of the aggrieved. The debates continued without intermission all the afternoon, but were broken off at sunset. The prisoners were ignorant of the resolution which the Indians had taken, and they were depressed in spirit. The Council House was now prepared for a grand dance. Six small fires were built upon the earthen floor at equal distances from each other. Three or four women commenced the movement to the rude music produced by rattling a calabash filled with beans or pebbles, and the sound of a drum made by drawing a skin over a tub. The step was regular, the dancers lifting their feet as if

 	

marching, but only advancing some three or four inches by a graceful spring, which brought both feet together. As they became warmer they threw off their blankets, dexterously twining them around their waists and securing them there. Those who commenced, danced around one fire, and their number was increased by young girls who had scarcely seen thirteen years, and women of all ages up to seventy. When those who were round one fire increased to twenty, they separated and danced in half circles round two fires. The men had looked upon this preparatory ceremony with apparent unconcern; but now, they themselves undertook the task. Each warrior sang his own song, and his highest ambition was to exceed his companions in the grotesqueness and variety of his capers. In these exhibitions they were exceedingly extravagant. Some of them would stoop and put their heads into the fire, and jump up with prodigious leaps, yelling with wild fury at the top of their voices. The scene was strange and impressive. The ear was deafened with the sound of rattling calabashes and beating drums, mingled with barbarous songs and outlandish shouts. The eye was fatigued with a variety of motion, in which stalwart forms in picturesque and active exercise were for a moment lighted up with the glare of the flames, and then hidden from the sight amid the throng The scene made a very deep impression upon the memory of the captives, which was more vivid because they supposed it was a prelude to tortures to which invited to participate, and all thought  prudent to do so, except Fitch, who was sulky and stubborn, and who

brooded angrily over the situation in which they were placed by the barbarity and inhumanity of Colonel Williamson. He expected that he would be put to death, and he cared not how soon, and was unwilling to do anything which might cause the savages to look favorably upon his condition. Whilst he was thus moodily engaged in thought, a portion of his apparel awakened the avarice of one of the Indians. The coveted article was no less a garment than his breeches, of linseywoolsey, which, although threadbare and broken at the knees, was desired by one of the chiefs. He sent an Indian to Fitch, with a valuable breechcloth richly decorated with wampum, and proposed an exchange. This request was unceremoniously refused by the captive, and he determined that he would sooner die than do the least thing to please those whose power over him was absolute. What the result would have been cannot be told, but the chief, more reasonable than was expected, again sent his agent to another prisoner with a like demand, but did not offer the breechcloth in barter. The latter complied at once, and slipping off the envied treasure, it w as borne away in triumph by the new owner.
After the dance was concluded the Indians withdrew, and the prisoners remained in the Council House all night. The next morning, when the chiefs assembled, persons were brought there who could read English, and the writings and papers found on Fitch and his companions were read. It seemed that they were suspected to have belonged to Williamson's party, but it was discovered by the nature of the papers they bore that they " were no warriors," " although," remarked
Fitch, "they might have known that before." Another debate an hour long ensued, after which the captives were taken out of the Council House. Captain brow gave up his two captives to one of the chiefs, and Captain Buffaloe parted with two which belonged to him. The two which were assigned to Captain Washington, and the five which remained to captain Buffaloe, were now marched to the town in which the latter resided. On the way, (Crow told them that they had been in great danger of death, and it was their belief, from what he said, that the four prisoners who were left behind were relinquished in order to save the lives of all of them, as captives then brought a good price at Detroit. At Buffaloe's town they halted; captain Washington went on with his two prisoners, but those who remained were put to work in building a house for the old chief. Fitch refused to labor on account of the weak and miserable condition in which he was; not only on account of his sore eyes, but from bodily suffering. Parkerson and Hopkins quarreled with him, during the course of which controversy reference was made by Fitch to their cowardice at the time of capture, which incensed them very much. Buffaloe had but a scanty stock of provisions for the sustenance of BO many persons, and their usual rations were a half-pint of dried corn a day, pounded into hominy and boiled. They suffered very much for want of salt, to which they had been accustomed, and when the Indians 

Occasionally killed cranes or turkeys, and brought them to be cooked, they were boiled in fresh water, which made them tasteless and somewhat unpalatable, but, nevertheless, welcomed by hunger. Being just able to walk about, Fitch gathered wild onions and artichokes for his companions, and one day he caught five or six fish with a pin hook. Buffaloe used no severity towards him, but got some calamusroot which he made him take as a tonic and strengthener. They remained at this town some ten or twelve days. While there, Buffaloe was attended by a likely young squaw. His wife was in another town about five or six miles off, but her husband did not visit her during the whole time, nor did the wife intrude herself upon him. When they left Buffaloe's town, they marched within half a mile of the village in which the wife was living. About four o'clock in the afternoon they came to a camp where they stopped. After they had been there some time, the wife came up, carrying a fine child about eight months old. She approached the chief in silence, and sat down. No word passed between them for about a quarter of an hour, when they began to converse in a low musical toneÑ such being the Indian mode of meeting among the best friends. The young squats 110W withdrew to a distance, and that night slept about ten feet from the chief. In the morning Buffaloe killed a deer. He gave his wife one half of it; she withdrew well pleased, and returned to the village leaving the young squaw with her husband, who accompanied him the rest of the journey. There seemed to be no ill feeling between these women, and the wife was thereby relieved of drudgery which she would have been 

compelled to undergo if she had gone along. Beside the young woman, Buffaloe was attended by two nephews, nine and eleven years old, and the five prisoners trudged on submissive to this escort of one old Indian, a woman, and two boys.
Their route lay for several days through wide prairies, the only objects upon which to attract the sight were "islands," covered with hazel bushes and trees. The weather was wet, and the rain was constant. They marched in water, generally ankledeep, sometimes as high as their knees, and even up to their waistbands. Provisions became very scarce toward the latter past of their journey, Buffaloe not being able to leave the prisoners and kill game for fear that they might escape. Parkerson and Hopkins proposed that they should rise upon them, but it was sagaciously opposed by Fitch, who thought that, if at liberty, they would only die of starvation. On the seventh day they came to the Maumee river, about eighteen miles from Lake Erie. A trading post was here established, and kept by Saunders and Cochran, at an Ottaway town. The prisoners were ferried across in a bark canoe. Here was obtained a reasonable allowance of provisions. They remained at the store and lodged there for three days. Buffaloe encamped upon a hill, about forty pole from the house While he was there, a number of Delawares returned from Detroit, and pitched their tents near Buffaloes. This party amused themselves by getting drunk, and they made a great noise. A servant of Saunders was so imprudent as to go among them, and one of the Indians supposing him to belong to the prisoners, struck Sum with his tomahawk, from the effects of which he

died the next day. He managed to get down to the house after he was wounded, and Saunders and Cochran, taking their tomahawks, went among the Delawares. They found the temper of the Indians to be very dangerous, and they soon returned with marks of fear upon their countenances. Scarcely had they got in the house, before the Indians upon the hill gave the scalp halloo, repeating it five times according to the number of prisoners. Fitch knew that some serious difficulty might be expected, and, seizing an ax, he slipped through the window of the kitchen into the garden, where he had seen some beanpoles, and cutting them into clubs he took them into the house to his companions. He told the latter what he feared, but they only laughed at his frenzy. He had not returned more than a quarter of an hour, when he again heard the scalp halloo and warwhoop, and going into the next room he got through a window into the yard, taking the ax with him. He went to the stable, where he fastened himself in, and put affairs in as good a posture of defense as possible. These hurried preparations were not made before the whole body of Indians were heard coming down the hill with horrible yells. The inhabitants of the Ottaway town were alarmed. Saunders and Cochran had been adopted in their tribe, and the warriors rallied round them in order to prevent injury. When the Delawares approached the house, they saw a superior force posted to receive them. Saunders stood by the prisoners, tomahawk m hand. The Delawares were very angry, and menaced the captives, but were held in check by the bold front of the Ottaways, who were an overmatch for them.
Finally, they changed their intention, and returned to the camp, where they kept up the frolic all night with much noise. Fitch remained in the stable, half asleep, being occasionally aroused from his drowsiness by the scalp halloo, which was shouted many times. In the hostile demonstration which had been made, Buffaloe had taken no part, and he was not seen. The Delawares were still in full riot at sunrise, when, after another scalp halloo, the old chief was discovered coming down the hill, and when near the bottom, he too broke out with the dreadful yell. Coming to the house, he spoke very angrily to the prisoners, and ordered them to go up to the camp, and drove them out of the room. Fitch, who was in the yard, and heard all that occurred, thought he would have to meet his fate sooner or later, and that it was best to do what he could to avert it. He therefore got in the window, and going into the room where Buffaloe was, put on an air of cheerfulness and saidÑ" How do you do this morning, Capt. Buffaloe ?" The latter was sitting in a chair and talking to an Indian trader. Getting a low stool, Fitch placed himself down by the chief, laid his arm over his bare thighs, and sat gazing in his face. When Buffaloe got up, he made motions that his prisoner should remain. As soon as he was gone, the trader told Fitch that the chief requested hint to tell him not to Leave the house, as 'he always spoke good" to him, and "the Indians were all mad !" Fearful that by this time the prisoners had all been massacred, he run to the door, where he told Hopkins what had occurred who received the information with a sneer at the seeming friendship manifested towards his informant. When the captives 

had been excluded from the house, they had the good sense to disregard the command to go to the camp, for if they had done so, the whole party would most probably have been murdered. When Buffaloe returned to the hill, and found that his directions had been disobeyed, he was much enraged. He returned and searched, with tomahawk and knife, for the skulking captives, and chased such of them as he could find, in order to drive them to the place of execution. The prisoners dodged, and being generally fleet of foot, managed to keep out of his way. Wm. Jarrad had a very narrow escape. He was a short, clumsy man, and could not run fast. Buffaloe started him in a corner of the garden, and being swifter, soon outran him.
Having got before him, and having the knife in his right hand, he aimed a backhanded blow, which, if Jarrad had been nearer, would have struck him about the heart. But luckily at this time, Buffaloe was so far ahead that he was beyond his intended victim, and stretching backward to give effect to his stroke, he reached too far, and, losing his balance, fell at full length. Whilst he was recovering from the shock, Jarrad managed to escape. Buffaloe then went up to the camp. The Indians kept up their frolic till noon, by which time all of them had become dead drunk, and their noise ceased. The next morning the Delawares went off at an early hour, and Buffaloe came down to the house perfectly sober, and ashamed of himself.
Saunders, who was friendly to the prisoners, thought it imprudent for them to go further with the old chief, for fear of some other occurrence of a similar nature. He therefore proposed to take the young squaw and the

prisoners to Detroit in a canoe, leaving Buffaloe to go by land with a horseload of skins. This was acceded to by the old warrior, who there parted with them, and whom they never met again. Saunders had one man with him, an Indian boy, the squaw, and the prisoners, with some goods. When they got to Lake Erie, Hopkins and Parkerson proposed to rise upon them, and after taking the canoe, to attempt to make the best of their way to Fort Pitt. Fitch remonstrated against such ingratitude, as Saunders had been their friend when they mere menaced by the frenzied Indians. The scheme was abandoned, but the proposers were thereby strengthened in their dislike to their companion. The little bark coasted the shores of the lake. At a place called Stony Point, they saw a great number of sturgeon. Six of these they struck with their tomahawks, and took them on board the canoe. When they got into the Detroit river, they took out the spawns and boiled them in fresh water. This mess afforded them the first good meal they had obtained for thirty days. They had no bread, but they got along very well without it. They ate for nearly an hour, after which they desisted for a while, but again ate by turns during the whole afternoon. The next day, they arrived at Detroit.