It was a happy reunion—one whose perfect joy our feeble pen can never give. There were two persons who, it seemed, had risen from the dead. The Frontier Angel and Marian Abbot. When the identity and remarkable history of the former became known through the settlement, there were many, even of the most intelligent, who believed it nothing less than a miracle.
If the reader, who has followed us through these pages, will examine the history of the West, he will find that in the summer of 1788, three flat-boats were attacked by the Shawnees, a short distance below the mouth of the great Sciota, and nearly all of the inmates massacred. Two of the boats were sunk, and history states that every one on board were slain. On the remaining boat was a Methodist missionary by the name of Tucker, who fought as only those valiant old Methodist pioneers can fight. There were several women, who loaded their dead husband's rifles and handed them to him, while he fired with such deadly effect, that his boat finally escaped, and he reached Maysville, where, a few days after, he died of his wounds.
In one of the boats which were sunk by the savages, was a man named William Orr, with his family. Every one of these, it is stated by historians, fell a victim to the fury of the Shawnees. And here we take the liberty of saying that, not for the first time, the historical accounts are in error. The writer traveled over that section, where most of our scenes have been laid, some years since, and obtained from an aged man (who had known the rangers, Jim Peterson and Dick Dingle, years before) the following account of the affair:
The boat which contained Orr and his family was the hindmost, and upon the second volley of the Shawnees, every one was killed, except Myra Orr, the youngest daughter. Even she was wounded. A bullet grazed her forehead, pressing a piece of bone inward upon the brain, in such a manner as to render her crazy!
In a few moments, the savages came up and proceeded to scalp their victims, when noticing that she was still alive, she was taken as a prisoner to the shore. It was subsequently ascertained that she was demented and no harm was offered her.[A] In time, she dressed and painted like the Indians, but she was never one of their number. She mingled with them, but her singular manner impressed them with the belief that she was something more than mortal. After a year or so, she took to the woods, and somewhere in its recesses she built herself a home. In the year 1790, she appeared before a settlement, and warned them of an intended attack, and from this time up to the closing scenes of our story, she devoted her life to the one object of befriending the whites. In time she became known all along the frontier, and the unaccountable mystery which hung down over her, gave rise to the superstitious belief that she was in reality an angel. Many attempts were made to discover her history, but none succeeded, until her reason was restored and she gave it herself.
[A] A crazy or idiotic person is always regarded with superstitious reverence by the North American Indian.
But what is perhaps nearly as singular, is that Myra Orr, the "Frontier Angel," and Jim Peterson, the ranger, were lovers in their younger days. They had separated much in the same manner that Mansfield and Marian had. When the tragic fate of his love reached the ears of Peterson, he turned ranger and acted with the celebrated Dingle in that capacity. He rarely referred to his great bereavement, but there were several who knew it. Among these, was Franklin Holmes, commander of the block-house, who was acquainted with the Orr family, before they removed from the East.
It will be remembered that Peterson left Marian Abbot, as he believed, in a dying condition, when the flat-boat was attacked. She was desperately wounded, and without the utmost care would have died. McGable recognized her as he boarded the flat-boat, and carried her to the shore, where he gave her in charge of an Indian runner, with instructions to carry her at once to Pauquachoke, one of their old "medicine women." McGable instantly returned and joined in the massacre. A few days after, he visited the medicine woman, and learned that Marian would recover, although it would necessarily require a long time. In fact, she had not been able to walk until a month previous to her rescue. Escape was impossible, as Pauquachoke had been instructed never to permit her to pass out of the cave. By an accident, the Frontier Angel became aware of the state of things and visited the captive on several different occasions. This reached the ears of McGable, and fearful of losing his prey through her means, he determined to kill her. His attempts and failures to do this, have been referred to. The fearful exertion through which Myra Orr went, on the night of Marian's rescue, well-nigh proved fatal to her. Reason flickered and fled for a time, but it finally returned in its full strength.
Marian for a long while was nearly delirious with joy—and so were the father and mother, and Mansfield, too. And Jim Peterson, the genial, good-hearted ranger, was heard to exclaim scores of times, "It beats all! it's powerful queer that I've met my gal here for nearly ten years, and was afraid she'd kill me ef she touched me. It's queer! Powerful queer!"
We wish our readers could have been down at the settlement, on the night of October 20, 1798. It would have required immense room, to have accommodated them we suppose, but the woods were large enough. This double wedding was a greater one than Seth Jones' and George Graham's. Yet it was much the same, and we will not describe it, but close our story with a paragraph.