A FRONTIER GIRL
A TALE OF THE BACKWOOD SETTLEMENTS
A girl of fifteen, slim and lithe in figure--although it would scarcelyhave suggested itself to a casual observer, so disfigured was it by thethick, homespun garment in which she was clothed--stood looking out fromthe door of a log cabin over the lake which lay a hundred yards away.Her face would have been almost childish had it not been for a certainalertness of expression and keenness of glance which would never havebeen seen in the face of a town-bred girl, nor in one brought up in acountry where the only danger ever to be encountered was in crossing ameadow in which a bull was grazing. Mary Mitford was the only child ofthe settler who owned the cabin. He had at one time been a well-to-dofarmer, but he had fallen into difficulties and been obliged to give uphis farm and travel farther west, where land could be had for thetaking up.
The times had been peaceful, and although the spot he had fixed upon wasten miles from the nearest village, that did not deter him from settlingthere. It was a natural clearing of some twenty acres in extent. Theland was fertile, and sloped gradually down to the lake. A clear springrose close to the spot where he had determined to make his house, and asto Indian troubles he shrugged his shoulders and said: "If the Indiansbreak out I shall only have to shut up my cabin and move into thevillage; but as there is no house nearer than that, no tracks in theforest leading past my place, and nothing worth stealing, it is hardlylikely that the red-skins will come my way. They are more likely toattack the village than they are to visit my shanty."
He had now lived on his little farm for four years, and had had noreason to regret his choice. The cabin originally built had beenenlarged. He had a horse to do his ploughing, and some ten acres undertillage; a score of half-wild pigs roamed by day in the forest, pickingup their living there, and returning of their own accord to their stiesin the evening for their one regular meal. Five or six cows and a scoreof sheep grazed on the untilled ground; geese and ducks waddled down tothe lake at daybreak and returned at nightfall; two or three dozenchickens found plenty of grubs and worms to eat between the rows of cornand vegetables on the tilled ground. Altogether John Mitford was doingwell. He went down once a week with ducks, geese, fowls, and vegetablesto the village, using a large boat, on which he had built a sort ofcabin where he often passed the night on the lake, returning home tobreakfast with a goodly store of wild duck he had shot, and sometimes astag which he had overtaken as it swam across the lake.
So well had he done, indeed, that he had settled to take on three orfour hired men to extend the clearing by cutting down and grubbing upthe forest. He had been ably assisted by his wife, who not only lookedafter the house, but assisted on the farm at busy times; while Mary, whowas but nine years old when they came there, made herself as useful asshe could at light work, fed the animals, cooked when her mother was inthe fields, and as she grew older spent a good deal of her time in asmall birch-bark canoe her father had bought for her in the village. Sheadded a good deal to the family store by fishing; not only was thehouse well supplied, but she enabled her father to take a largebasketful down when he went to the village, where the people were alltoo busy to fish for themselves.
She also learned to use her father's rifle with a skill equal to hisown, and could hit any duck that came within range of the weapon. Fromtime to time there were rumours of trouble with the Indians; but theseeither proved to be without foundation, or the troubles took place atdistant spots on the border. Sometimes Mary's mother accompanied herfather to the village when stores had to be laid in, and materials forgarments purchased for which their own homespun cloth was unsuitable.They had started together this morning, and the three men who had beenengaged were to return with them. These were to be accommodated in anouthouse until they had built a log cabin for themselves, and a store ofgroceries, saws and axes, blankets, and other necessaries for their usewere also to be purchased and brought up.
They had, when the settler had gone down on the previous week, heardthat councils had been held among the village elders as to the rumouredIndian troubles, and as to the best method of defending the place shouldthe enemy threaten an attack. John Mitford had received many warnings,but he paid little attention to them, and while speaking lightly of themto his wife, remarked with a laugh, that with the hired men they wouldhave quite a garrison.
"They will all bring their guns up with them," he said, "and it willscarcely be worth the while of any Indians to attack us when they knowthat we should be able to make a stout fight, and that even if they tookthe place there would be nothing to pay them except our scalps for theloss of life they would suffer. The men I hired to-day are allaccustomed to border work, and claim to be good shots. I can say as muchfor myself, and Mary here is a good bit better than I am, and you havelearned to make very fair practice, wife."
"I have not had time for much of it, John, but at least I think that Icould scarcely miss an Indian at fifty yards; however, as you say, wehave been hearing these rumours every three or four months since wesettled here, and nothing has ever come of it."
So little did they think of the matter that when they started in thescow an hour before daybreak no allusion was made to it, and Mary was tohave supper ready for them on their return.
"Remember that there will be six, Mary, and you will have to provideplentifully for the men. It would never do to give them a bad impressionon their arrival. We shall be back before nightfall."
When they had gone, Mary went about her usual work--let the pigs out,and saw them well on their way towards the forest, the ducks starteddown to the lake and the chickens to the fields, while the geese beganto graze in the meadow between the house and the lake, where the horseand other animals joined them as soon as they were let out. Havingattended to these matters, she went about the work of the house. Fromtime to time she came to the door to see that all was going on well. Itwas three o'clock in the afternoon when she heard a sudden squeal ofalarm in the forest, and a minute or two later the pigs came gallopingout of it. Accustomed as Mary was to all the noises of the place, thesudden outcry startled her.
"What can have frightened the pigs?" she said to herself; "it may bethat a mountain lion has sprang down upon one of them, but it may bethat there are Indians."
She went back at once into the house, pulled out the moss from theloopholes that had been made when it was built in case they should everbe attacked, and, going from one to another, gazed into the forest.Before doing so, she had looked to the priming of the three rifles andtwo shot-guns that hung on the walls. She could see nothing, butobserved that there was a general feeling of uneasiness among theanimals. The horse had stopped feeding, and with ears outstretchedseemed to be listening for sounds in the forest; the cows, after staringabout, commenced to walk in the direction of their byres; and some geesewhich were near the edge of the lake, gave warning cries, keeping closetogether, and also moved towards the house. The girl had heard so manystories of Indian raids on lonely settlements that she felt sure that anattack would not be made until after dark. They could hardly know thatshe was alone in the house, and would not risk losing lives by anadvance against it in broad daylight.
As she moved from loophole to loophole she thought over what was best tobe done. Although the Indians might wait till nightfall, if they saw noadvantage in attacking before, they would assuredly fall upon herfather's party as they landed, as, with the advantage of such asurprise, they might expect to slaughter them without resistance. Itwas hardly likely that any large party could be in the wood. She hadheard her father often say that any body of Indians on the war-pathwould make straight for the settlements and would not waste their timeupon isolated farms, though stragglers from the main body might do so.
"I must do something at once," she said to herself at last; "if theIndians see no one about they may crawl up here, and though I mightshoot one or two of them, I could not be on all sides of the house atonce. If I were killed, father and mother would be sure to fall into thetrap. From the way those geese b
ehaved I believe it must be a party whowere travelling down the lake, and, knowing of the clearing, they landedsome little distance away and moved along the shore. As canoes oftentraverse the lake, and the Indians have an eye for every detail, theywould know that its occupants possess a scow, and that as it was notthere some of the inhabitants were certainly away. They would thereforeprobably wait until their return before making an attack on the hut,which could be easily captured; while, were they to attack the cabin atonce, the firing might be heard, and those on the scow being thus warnedmight go at once to the village, where their report would give thealarm to the inhabitants, and so put them on their guard against theattack that was to be made upon them by the main body that night."
All these things were thought over by the girl. She had so oftenlistened to the stories of Indian raids told by passing hunters who putup for the night, that she was able to judge the situation as accuratelyas an older settler might have done. She was pale, but this was the onlysign of her consciousness that her life was in extreme danger. She knewthat if an attack had not been made at once, the Indians must have goodreasons for waiting. From time to time Indian canoes had stopped there,and the occupants had landed in order to exchange skins and otherarticles for tobacco and powder, and so save themselves the journey downto the settlement, and they would know that her mother, father, andherself were the sole occupants. The absence of the scow showed that herfather was away, and that the place could be easily captured, thoughperhaps not without loss of blood, for women of the frontier wereusually able to use a rifle on an emergency. She went out occasionally,took some food for the pigs, and hung up some clothes to dry, in a quietand unconcerned manner, in order to show that no suspicion wasentertained that Indians were in the neighbourhood.
At last she determined upon the best course to be pursued. It was aboveall things necessary to warn her parents. That the attempt might costher her life did not weigh in the slightest; she would certainly bekilled if she remained there. There was just a possibility that shemight succeed in saving their lives as well as her own by action. Oncein her canoe she might escape; it was very small and light. Constantexercise had so strengthened her arms that she could make it fly throughthe water at a speed at which few of the Indians with whom she hadsometimes tried a spin could surpass. The canoe or canoes, however, inwhich the red-skins had arrived were doubtless paddled by three or moremen, and these would certainly overtake her. It was the knowledge thatthis was so that had prevented her from making an earlier start. To giveher a chance of getting away she must carry a rifle with her, and oncethe lurking enemy, who were doubtless watching her every movement,perceived that she was armed they would guess at once that she wasconscious of their presence, and would rush out and tomahawk her beforeshe reached the water's edge.
At last she decided upon a plan. Taking off her gown, she fastened therifle with a cord round her body. The butt was against her shoulder andthe barrel came down just below her ankle, projecting but an inch or twobelow her gown. When she put it on again, even the sharpest Indian eyecould scarcely notice this as she walked through the grass. She hadpassed the rope but once round her body, and had tied the end in a bowso that she could in a moment unloose it on reaching the canoe, for itwould be impossible for her to kneel down with the rifle in its presentposition. She took a powder-horn which she slung over her shoulder by acord, and put a dozen bullets into her pocket. Then she put some graininto a basket, and was ready to start. Before leaving the house shestood for a few minutes in silent prayer, for she was unable to kneel;then she went out.
It needed a great effort to saunter leisurely along, but the thought ofher parents' danger nerved her, and she went from animal to animal,giving each a handful or two of grain, calling them to her, and singingin a voice in which at first there was a little quaver, but which soonrang out loud and fearlessly. Fortunately the horse and one or two ofthe cows were feeding close down by the lake. As she went her hopesrose. After feeding them she strolled in a leisurely way towards hercanoe, and, standing close to it, looked over the water, then she wentdown to its edge, and gazed down the lake as if looking for thereturning scow. After standing thus for a minute or two she returned tothe canoe, pulled at the ends of the rope under her loose dress, and letthe muzzle of the rifle drop to the ground. She stooped over the canoeas if arranging the paddles, and placed the rifle in it. The action, shethought, could hardly have been seen by the Indians, for the trees weretwo hundred yards on each side of her. She then lifted the light canoeand carried it down to the water.
This was the critical moment. The Indians might allow her to gounmolested, thinking that she was only going for a short paddle to passaway the time until her parents returned, and in that case they wouldcrawl across and enter the cabin in order to take the party by surpriseas they unsuspectingly strolled up from the scow. On the other hand, ifthey thought that she had had any idea of their presence, and was goingto warn her father, they would know the coveted scalps would be lost ifthey did not succeed in catching her. As she seated herself in thecanoe and took up her paddle, her heart beat high with hope, but,glancing towards the trees, she saw six red-skins running at full speedfrom the edge of the forest. What she hadn't reckoned upon had occurred.Their sharp eyes had caught the flash of the sun upon the barrel of therifle as she put it in, and they at once guessed that she was aware oftheir presence, and was endeavouring to escape.
It was well that she had lost not a moment's time after placing thecanoe in the water. Her nervousness had now passed away, and with rapidbut steady strokes she drove the light craft ahead, and was fifty orsixty yards out on to the lake before the Indians reached the spot shehad left. They had been silent hitherto, but their yells rose fiercelyas they fired shot after shot; but the powder sold to the Indians wasalways of a poor quality, and though the balls fell close to her nonestruck her. The red-skins did not wait to reload, but ran back to theforest, and a minute after they had disappeared among the trees she sawa canoe with three paddlers dash out from some bushes in which it hadbeen concealed. She had but some three hundred yards' start, andalthough she was rowing her hardest, looking over her shoulder fromtime to time, she found that they were gaining upon her. When a mile hadbeen passed she was but seventy or eighty yards ahead. With a sweep ofher paddle she turned the canoe broadside to her pursuers, laid herpaddle in, seized her rifle, took a steady aim, and fired.
The report was followed by a yell, and the Indian in the bow dropped hispaddle and fell back. At other times, at so short a distance, she wouldnot have missed her aim at the centre of his chest by a finger'sbreadth; but though she had held her breath in order to steady herrifle, her arms were quivering from her exertions, and she had only hithim on his right shoulder, the red mark on the brown skin showing wherehe was struck. A moment later she was again on her way. The fall of theman against the red-skin behind him had nearly upset the Indian canoe,and she had gained several lengths before the pursuit was continued. Shelooked round, and saw that the wounded man was again kneeling in hisplace. His paddle had fallen overboard when he was struck, and even hadit not been so, he could have rendered but slight assistance to hiscomrades with but one hand available.
"It is lucky that he was not killed," she said to herself. "If he hadbeen, they would have thrown him overboard."
A minute later she heard a splash. The wounded man had leapt into thewater, and was making for the shore.
"It is a fair race now," she thought. "Their canoe is a large one, as itheld three sitters besides the rowers. Now I must take it steadily. I amsure they will not gain on me as long as I can keep up--it is just aquestion of last."
She rowed, however, her hardest for a few minutes, as it wasall-important to get beyond the range of the Indians' guns. When aglance round showed her that she was some hundred and twenty yards aheadof her pursuers, she settled down into a long steady stroke. She knewwell that she was now practically safe, for even if one of their gunscould carry to her, it was difficult even for the best shot to
aim froma dancing canoe. For half an hour there was no change in the position.The Indians were rowing their hardest, but the weight of theircomparatively heavy canoe was telling upon them as much as the labour ofdriving her light craft was upon the girl. It was well for her that anout-of-door life and daily practice had hardened her muscles andstrengthened her frame. She had once paused for a couple of seconds andpulled off her frock, which at once cumbered her movements and wasterribly hot. The speed of the canoe had scarcely slackened when thepaddle was at work again, and she felt a sensible relief from thefreedom of her limbs.
A few minutes later a little cry of joy broke from her as she saw thescow come out from behind a point some two miles away. The sight gaveher renewed hope and strength. They must have left the village earlierthan she had expected. On the other hand, a yell from the red-skins toldher that they too had seen the scow, and would certainly exertthemselves to the utmost to overtake her before she reached it. Althoughit had seemed that the paddlers were all doing their best before, theadded speed of the canoes told that their exertions had been redoubled.When within a mile of the scow, the girl glanced backwards. The Indianshad gained some thirty yards upon her; but another five minutes wouldbring her within rifle-shot of the scow. She could see by the motion ofthe oars that the rowers were doing their utmost, while the others werestanding up watching the chase with their rifles in their hands.
Her strength was failing her fast now, but she struggled ondeterminedly; at least she had saved her father and mother. Two minuteslater she started at the report of a gun behind, and the splash of aball in the water alongside the canoe. She felt that she was safe now.The red-skins would not have stopped to fire had they not felt that itwas their last chance of revenge. A few more strokes and she lookedround. The Indians were already on their way towards the shore. Then shelet her paddle drop, and collapsed in the bottom of the canoe, hearingbut faintly the sound of repeated shots from the scow, which was now buta little more than a quarter of a mile away. Hitherto they had beenunable to fire, as the two canoes were in a line. Faintly she heard ashout in her father's voice: "Are you hit, Mary?" But she was incapableof making an effort to reply, and it was not until the scow camealongside and she was lifted on board that she was able to answer. Therelief of her father and mother was intense when they found that she wasunwounded. They had heard the Indians fire, and at the distance theywere away it had seemed to them that the canoes were close to eachother. They then saw the red-skins at once make for shore, and she hadso quickly afterwards sunk into the canoe that they greatly feared shewas wounded. The men with them, however, were unanimous in agreeing thatshe had not been hit. If she had been, they argued, her pursuers wouldcertainly have paddled up to the canoe and taken her scalp before makingfor the shore. It was some time before she was able to tell her story,and the frontiersmen were as warm in their expressions of admiration forher coolness as were her parents.
A consultation was now held as to the best plan to be pursued. It wasfinally agreed that one of the men should take the canoe and return tothe village, which was but four miles away, and warn them to prepare foran attack that night. The stockades had already been strengthened, andif prepared, it was probable that the settlers would be able to beat offany attack. The scow was then put in motion again. It was felt that thethree Indians on shore would have done nothing until they learned fromthe men in the canoe that the pursuit had failed, and that the settlershad been warned. They would probably have followed along the shore tosee the result, and might either return, burn the cabin, and slaughterthe cattle, or might go on and join the Indians who were doubtlessgathered close to the village. The frontiersmen were of opinion thatthey would take the latter course.
"The red-skins are fond of revenge," one of the men said, "but they arefonder of scalps. They will not expect to get much plunder from yourhouse, and will certainly get no scalps; and though they might do a lotof mischief on your clearing, this would offer less satisfaction to themthan getting their share of the plunder and scalps from the village."
"Besides," another put in, "they would certainly get into bad odour withtheir tribe if they were absent from the attack. I take it for certainthat they had orders to go straight there, and that it was only the hopethat they would bring in some scalps that induced them to land at yourclearing. I think that it is plumb sure that they will go straight on."
Rowing vigorously, they reached the farm an hour before sunset. To theirgreat satisfaction they saw the animals grazing as usual, the cabinintact, and no signs of an enemy's presence; nevertheless thefrontiersmen advised Mr. Mitford to proceed cautiously, for it was justpossible the Indians were hidden in the house. Accordingly he told hiswife and daughter to remain in the scow, which, when the men landed,was pushed off into deep water and the grapnel dropped. The men moved upthrough the trees until abreast of the house.
"I am convinced that they are not there," the settler said. "The animalsare all feeding quietly, and the geese are just in front of the door. Iam sure that if red-skins were inside, the horse and cattle would all begathered by the water, and the geese, which are as watchful as dogs,would not be near the house."
The others agreed, and, stooping low, made their way through thestanding grain until within some thirty yards of the house. Then withrifles advanced ready to fire, they dashed forward. Still all was quiet.
"They are not here," one of the men said positively. "They certainlywould have fired, and not let us get up against the wall. We have onlyto walk in."
They went round to the door and entered. All was exactly as Mary hadleft it. The fire had burnt low, but the pot was still simmering overit. The farmer went down to the water and fetched up his wife and Mary.
"If it hadn't been for you, Mary," he said, "everything would have beendestroyed here, and we should be lying dead on the shore."
The question was next discussed what they had best do. The frontiersmenwere unanimous in their opinion that there was no fear of an attack thatnight, but were equally certain that one would be made the next night,or at the latest on that following.
"No matter whether they take the village or not, they are sure to attackyou. If they have won, the varmint you have baulked to-day will bring aparty of their friends here for plunder and scalps. If they are beatenoff they will, before they return home, ravage every outlying farm. Tomake matters sure, I should say it would be safest for your wife anddaughter to sleep on board the scow. We can bring her in close to theshore and camp down there ourselves, so that, if needs be, we can get onboard and put out into the lake. They have only one canoe, as far as weknow; but if they had a dozen they would not dare to attack us. I do notthink that there is a chance of any trouble to-night. In the morning, Ishould say your best plan would be to get the things you most value onboard the scow, with enough meat and provisions to last for a week. Youmust stay with the ladies on board, and we will drive all the animals acouple of miles into the forest. The worst that can happen then is that,when the Indians come, they will burn down the house. I don't see thatwe can prevent that. If we were to lay off here in the scow, we couldkeep them from approaching within range of our rifles, but we could notprevent them from coming down from behind the house.
"It does not matter about the cabin," the settler said; "that is easilyput up again. And, indeed, I had intended before long to pull it downand rebuild it in better style, and put it close down by the water."
"That would be a good plan, boss. If you were to put it there, and makea strong palisade running from it on each side down to the water, youcould fight it out against a big lot of red-skins, and if the worst cameto the worst, could make off in your scow. I would put a bag or two ofgrain in the boat, if I were you, now. When you start in the morning,row along the shore to the east till you see us come out. We will bunchthe animals close by there, and if we give them a feed every eveningthey are safe not to wander very far. It is not likely the red-skinswill trouble to hunt for them; they will burn your house and then makeoff. You might leave hal
f a dozen of your sheep here. If they come, theIndians can make a meal, and they won't be wanting to search the woodsfor one, and are safe to make off without delay. When they have once gota beating they don't care to hang about; and if they have succeeded atthe village, and got scalps and booty, some of them will at once startfor home to have a dance after their victory, and the others will be offto strike a blow at some other village before the news of what hasoccurred reaches the settlers."
And so the matter was carried out. The night passed quietly, but in themorning the frontiersmen, putting their ears down to the surface of thelake, could make out heavy firing in the distance, and knew that theattack on the village had begun. The work was then set about. The wholeof the feathered stock were tied by their legs and placed in the scow.The store of provisions, groceries, the linen, and clothes were allplaced on board, and then the settler, with his wife and daughter,pushed off, while the three men drove the animals into the forest. Threehours later those on the scow saw them appear at the edge of the lakenearly three miles from the clearing, and the scow was at once rowedashore. The animals had been driven to a small clearing a quarter of amile away, and on the party going up they were found to be still there.Mary went round petting them and giving them handfuls of grain, andafter remaining there for half an hour they returned to the lake. Thescow was hidden under some branches overhanging the water. In theafternoon a small canoe with a solitary paddler was seen coming along,keeping close inshore. As it approached, Mary recognized her canoe, andthe men declared that the rower was their comrade who had gone to givethe alarm to the village.
"What news, Reuben?" they shouted as soon as he was within hearing.
"Bad news," he said. "The village is taken, and every soul but myselfmurdered! They made a good fight, but the red-skins were too strong. Igot hit in the leg pretty early in the fight, and, finding that I was nomore use, I got two women to carry me down to the canoe. I knew that Ishould be as comfortable there as anywhere, and if things went wrong itgave me a chance. Two hours later I heard by the screaming that thered-skins had forced the palisades and were in the village, so I thoughtthat it was time for me to be off. I was able to sit up, though I wasbadly hit below the knee, and I paddled off and made for the clearing.When I got there I saw at once that all the animals were gone, and madesure that they had been driven into the forest, and that you had takento the scow. I did not suppose that you had gone very far, so I came onlooking for you, and glad enough I was to hear your shout."
"You fear that all in the village have been murdered?" Mr. Mitford said.
"I have not a doubt of it. Those red fiends spare no one, especially asthere was a stout resistance, and a good many of them have been wipedout."
He was now helped out of the canoe. His comrades, all of whom had muchexperience of wounds, examined his leg carefully, and were of opinionthat, although the bone was splintered, it was not broken, and that theball had gone out behind.
"The best thing to do," one of them said, "will be to make a deep cutand pick out all the pieces of bone. It will never heal properly withthem in."
"Fire away then!" the wounded man said coolly. "It is best to make agood job of it at once. Now I know that the bone is not really broken Idon't mind what you do with it."
"Do you happen to have a new knife, Mr. Mitford?" one of the otherfrontiersmen said, turning to the settler. "One wants a new knife and asharp one."
"I cannot give you a new one, but it was only yesterday that I ground myown knife, and it is both sharp and clean."
"That will do first rate."
And, taking the long knife the settler wore in a sheath hanging from hisbelt, he proceeded to operate. Not a groan or a sigh proceeded from thewounded man. Accustomed to a hard life as these men were, they werealmost as insensible to pain as the Indians themselves. After thesplinters of bone had been removed, the wound was washed with warm waterand then carefully bandaged. A fire had by this time been lit a shortdistance in the forest in a position where its light could not beobserved by any passing canoe. Here the men bivouacked, taking it byturns to keep watch. For four days they remained here; then one of themstarted as soon as it was dark, in Mary's canoe, to examine theclearing. He returned in little over an hour. The cabin and outbuildingshad all been burnt, and the place was absolutely deserted. It was agreedthat there was not the slightest chance of the Indians returning there,and the settler and three of the men at once began to fell trees; whilethe fourth, who could not assist in active work for some time, went downin the canoe to the village, which he found had been entirely destroyed,but that a body of the State militia had arrived there. From them helearned that another village had been destroyed; but in an attack on athird the Indians had been repulsed with great loss, and had not sincebeen heard of, and it was believed that they had retired to their ownvillages.
Three months later a log-house had been erected by the water-side, withpalisades running down into deep water. It was large and comfortable,and being built of square logs and well loopholed, and with the doorsand windows on the water-side only, it could resist a formidable attack.A very strong gate in one of the palisades would admit of the animalsbeing driven in there for shelter. All those which had been taken intothe forest had been recovered. The house done, the men set to work toenlarge the clearing, and ten years later it was one of the largest andbest-cultivated farms on the lake. Mary, whose exploit had gained forher a wide reputation throughout the district for her courage andcoolness, had long before married a young Englishman who had come outwith some capital, with the intention of farming. Mary would not hear ofleaving her father and mother, and accordingly he entered intopartnership with Mr. Mitford, and his energy and capital had no smallshare in developing the farm. A second log-house was built within sometwenty yards of the other, and connected with it by a strong palisade.However, the settlers were never again disturbed by the Indians, and somany new-comers had settled beyond them that it could no longer becalled an outlying settlement, especially as a town of considerable sizehad sprung into existence on the site of the village that had beendestroyed.
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