Oh! how I wish Drake and Cahoonshee were here. Perhaps they will carry me off, and who can find me? Drake will if possible. And picking up a piece of charcoal, wrote on the door what she had seen and what she feared, describing the Indians, their dress paint and feathers. She had just finished the writing, when the Indians came in the door. The leader advanced and said:
Pretty squaw—good shot—bring squirrel’s head down—leave body in tree. Make me good squaw—shoot my deer—cook my corn.
Amy, although she understood every word he said, pretended she could not understand him, and made signs to that effect.
Time is precious, said one in the rear. Cahoonshee will soon be upon us.
This convinced Amy that the Indians knew that the men were not at home and might soon return. If she could detain them, perhaps Drake would arrive. She offered them something to eat. This was refused. Then the Indian that first approached her, drew from his belt some deer-skin strings. Amy read her doom. She was to be bound and carried off. As resistance was useless, she came to the conclusion to quietly submit.
She then made gestures that she would go with them without tying, but the wily savages would not permit that, but tying a thong around her neck, ordered her to march.
Betsy had been a silent and interested spectator of the scene that had passed before her. Amy had informed her in Dutch what she supposed the Indians intended to do with her.
Tell Drake that I am going to Kingston ahead of him, that I have been taken by the Indians—the same tribe that stole him when he was a babe.