Just then the child uttered a loud scream, followed by a few faint moans, and all was silent. Presently the crackling of flames was heard, accompanied by a triumphant yell from the Indians, announcing that they had set fire to that division of the house, which had been occupied by the daughters, and of which they held undisputed possession.
The fire was quickly communicated to the rest of the building, and it became necessary to abandon it or perish in the flames. The door was thrown open, and the old lady, supported by her eldest son, attempted to cross the fence at one point, while her daughter carrying her child in her arms, and attended by the younger of the brothers, ran in a different direction. The blazing roof shed a light over the yard but little inferior to that of day, and the savages were distinctly seen awaiting the approach of their victims. The old lady was permitted to reach the stile unmolested, but in the act of crossing, received several balls in her breast, and fell dead. Her son, providentially, remained unhurt, and, by extraordinary agility, effected his escape.
The other party succeeded in reaching the fence unhurt, but in the act of crossing were vigorously assailed by several Indians, who, throwing down their guns, rushed upon them with their tomahawks. The young man defended his sister gallantly, firing upon the enemy as they approached, and then wielding the butt of his rifle with a fury that drew their whole attention upon himself, and gave his sister an opportunity of effecting her escape. He quickly fell however under the tomahawks of his enemies, and was found at daylight, scalped and mangled in a shocking manner. Of the whole family, consisting of eight persons, only three escaped. Four were killed upon the spot, and one, the second daughter, carried off as a prisoner.
The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and, by daylight, about thirty men were assembled, under the command of Colonel Edwards. A light snow had fallen during the latter part of the night, and the Indian trail could be followed at a gallop. It led directly into the mountainous country bordering on the Licking, and afforded evidences of great hurry and precipitation on the part of the fugitives. Unfortunately, a hound had been permitted to follow the whites, and as the trail became fresh, and the scent warm, she followed it with eagerness, baying loudly and giving the alarm to the Indians. The consequences of this imprudence were soon manifest. The enemy finding the pursuit keen, and perceiving the strength of their prisoner began to fail, instantly sunk their tomahawks in her head, and left her still warm and bleeding upon the snow.
As the whites came up, she regained strength enough to wave her hand in token of recognition, and appeared desirous of giving them some information, with regard to the enemy, but her strength was too far gone. Her brother sprang from his horse and endeavored to stop the effusion of blood, but in vain. She gave him her hand, muttered some inarticulate words, and expired.
THRILLING INCIDENT.
In mid-winter about four years since, says Miss Martineau, in her Norway and the Norwegians, a young man named Hund, was sent by his master on an errand about twenty miles, to carry provisions to a village in the upper country. The village people asked him for charity, to carry three orphan children on his sledge a few miles on his way to Bergen, and to leave them at a house on the road, when they would be taken care of until they could be brought from Bergen. He took the little things, and saw that the two elder were well wrapped up from the cold. The third he took within his arms and on his knee, as he drove, clasping it warm against his breast--so those say who saw them set off, and it is confirmed by one who met the sledge on the road, and heard the children prattling to Hund, and Hund laughing merrily at their little talk. Before they got half way, however, a pack of hungry wolves, burst out upon them from a hollow in the thicket to the right of the wood. The beasts followed close to the back of the sledge. Closer and closer the wolves pressed. Hund saw one about to spring at his throat. It was impossible for the horse to go faster than he did, for he went like the wind--so did the wolves. Hund in desperation, snatched up one of the children behind him, and threw it over the back of the sledge. This stopped the pack a little. On galloped the horse. But the wolves were soon crowded around again, with the blood freezing to their muzzles. It was easier to throw over the second child than the first--and Hund did it. But on came again the infuriated beasts--gaunt with hunger, and raging like fiends for the prey. It was harder to give up the third--the dumb infant that nestled in his breast, but Hund was in mortal terror. Again the hot breath of the wolves was upon him. He threw a way the infant and saved himself. Away over the snow flew the sledge, the village was reached, and Hund just escaped after all the sacrifice he had made. But he was unsettled and wild, and his talk, for some time whenever he did speak, night or day, was of wolves--so fearful had been the effect upon his imagination.
Attacked by Wolves.