During the settlement of the interior of Pennsylvania, the Indians were almost constantly hostile. Houses were burned, fields desolated, and the poor, hard-working settlers were killed, or carried into a dreadful captivity. The sufferings of some of these captives can scarcely be described. The following narrative will give some idea of savage nature.
On the 22nd of May, 1792, Massy Herbeson and her children were taken from their house, within two hundred yards of Reed's blockhouse, and about twenty-five miles from Pittsburg. Mr. Herbeson, being one of the spies, was from home; two of the scouts lodged with her that night, but had left her house about sunrise, in order to go to the blockhouse, and had left the door standing wide open. Shortly after the two scouts went away, a number of Indians came into the house, and drew her out of bed by the feet; the two eldest children, who also lay in another bed were drawn out in the same manner; a younger child, about one year old slept with Mrs. Herbeson. The Indians then scattered the articles about in the house.
Whilst they were at this work, Mrs. Herbeson went out of the house, and hallooed to the people in the blockhouse; one of the Indians then ran up and stopped her mouth, another ran up with his tomahawk drawn, and a third ran and seized the tomahawk and called her his squaw; this last Indian claimed her as his, and continued by her. About fifteen of the Indians then ran down towards the blockhouse and fired their guns at the block and store-house, in consequence of which one soldier was killed and another wounded, one having been at the spring, and the other in coming or looking out of the store-house. Mrs. Herbeson told the Indians there were about forty men in the blockhouse, and each man had two guns, the Indians then went to those that were firing at the blockhouse, and brought them back.
They then began to drive Mrs. Herbeson and her children away; but a boy, about three years old, being unwilling to leave the house, they took it by the heels, and dashed it against the house, then stabbed and scalped it. They then took Mrs. Herbeson and the two other children to the top of the hill, where they stopped until they tied up the plunder they had got. While they were busy about this, Mrs. Herbeson counted them, and the number amounted to thirty-two, including two white men, that were with them, painted like the Indians. Several of the Indians could speak English, and she knew several of them very well, having often seen them go up and down the Alleghany river; two of them she knew to be Senecas, and two Munsees, who had got their guns mended by her husband about two years ago.
They sent two Indians with her, and the others took their course towards Puckty. She, the children, and the two Indians had not gone above two hundred yards, when the Indians caught two of her uncle's horses, put her and the youngest child on one, and one of the Indians and the other child on the other. The two Indians then took her and the children to the Alleghany river, and took them over in bark canoes, as they could not get the horses to swim the river. After they had crossed the river, the oldest child, a boy about five years of age, began to mourn for his brother, when one of the Indians tomahawked and scalped him. They travelled all day very hard, and that night arrived at a large camp, covered with bark, which, by appearance, might hold fifty men. That night they took her about three hundred yards from the camp, into a large dark bottom, bound her arms, gave her some bed clothes, and lay down one on each side of her.
The next morning they took her into a thicket, on the hill side, and one remained with her till the middle of the day, while the other went to watch the path, lest some white people should follow them. They then exchanged places during the remainder of the day. She got a piece of dry venison, about the size of an egg, that day, and a piece about the same size the day they were marching; that evening, (Wednesday, 23d) they moved her to a new place, and secured her as the night before. During the day of the 23'd, she made several attempts to get the Indian's gun or tomahawk, that was guarding her, and, had she succeeded, she would have put him to death. She was nearly detected in trying to get the tomahawk from his belt.
The next morning one of the Indians went out, as on the day before, to watch the path. The other lay down and fell asleep. When she found he was sleeping, she stole her short gown, handkerchief, a child's frock, and then made her escape; the sun was then about half an hour high-- she took her course from the Alleghany, in order to deceive the Indians, as they would naturally pursue her that way; that day she travelled along Conequenessing creek. The next day she altered her course, and, as she believes, fell upon the waters of Pine Creek, which empties into the Alleghany. Thinking this not her best course, she took over some dividing ridges,--lay on a dividing ridge on Friday night, and on Saturday came to Squaw run--continued down the run until an Indian, or some other person, shot a deer; she saw the person about one hundred and fifty yards from her--the deer running and the dog pursuing it, which, from the appearance, she supposed to be an Indian dog.
She then altered her course, but again came to the same run, and continued down until she got so tired that she was obliged to lie down, it having rained on her all that day and the night before; she lay there that night; it rained constantly. On Sunday morning, she proceeded down the run until she came to the Alleghany river, and continued down the river till she came opposite to Carter's house, on the inhabited side, where she made a noise, and James Closier brought her over the river to Carter's house.
Such outrages were frequent upon the frontier, in time of war with the Indians. Many instances of the generosity and hospitality of the red men are recorded. But when we remember that they made war and the chase the business of their lives, and that they never would be content to till the ground, as the neighbors of the whites we cannot regret that they have disappeared from our vicinity.