THAT NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY BOY.
"Gimee more pie-ee!"
A FOUR-FOOTED MESSENGER
Just after the raising of the siege of Fort Stanwix, in the Mohawk Valley, the neighborhood continued to be infested with prowling bands of Indians.
Captain Gregg and a companion were out shooting one day, and were just preparing to return to the fort, when two shots were fired in quick succession, and Gregg saw his comrade fall, while he himself felt a wound in his side which so weakened him that he speedily fell.
Two Indians at the same time sprang out of the bushes, and rushed toward him. Gregg saw that his only hope was to feign death, and succeeded in lying perfectly still while the Indians tore off his scalp.
As soon as they had gone, he endeavored to reach his companion, but had no sooner got to his feet than he fell again. A second effort succeeded no better, but the third time he managed to reach the spot where his comrade lay, only to find him lifeless. He rested his head upon the bloody body, and the position afforded him some relief.
But the comfort of this position was destroyed by a small dog, which had accompanied him on his expedition, manifesting his sympathy by whining, yelping, and leaping around his master. He endeavored to force him away, but his efforts were in vain until he exclaimed, "If you wish so much to help me, go and call some one to my relief."
To his surprise, the animal immediately bounded off at his utmost speed.
He made his way to where three men were fishing, a mile from the scene of the tragedy, and as he came up to them began to whine and cry, and endeavored, by bounding into the woods and returning again and again, to induce them to follow him.