it.  In mortal fear she obeyed, stepping out over the body of one of her children, with two others screaming beside her, and her baby in her arms.  Once outside he scalped the murdered boy, and set fire to the house, and then drove the woman and the remaining children to a knoll where the wounded Indian lay with the others around him.  The Indians hoped the flames would destroy both cabins; but Edward Cunningham and his son went into their loft, and threw off the boards of the roof, as they kindled, escaping unharmed from the shots fired at them; and so, though scorched by the flame and choked by the smoke, they saved their house and their lives.  Seeing the failure of their efforts the savages then left, first tomahawking and scalping the two elder children.  The shuddering mother, with her baby, was taken along with them to a cave, in which they hid her and the wounded Indian; and then with untold fatigue, hardship, and suffering, for her brutal captors gave her for food only a few papaw nuts and the head of a wild turkey, she was taken to the Indian towns.  Some months afterwards Simon Girty ransomed her and sent her and tried to follow the trail; but the crafty forest warriors had concealed it with such care that no effective pursuit could be made.

    Retaliation of the Settlers.

In none of the above-mentioned raids did the Indians suffer any loss of life, and in none was there any successful pursuit.  But in one instance in this same year and same neighborhood the assailed settlers retaliated, with effect.  It was near Wheeling.  A lad named John Wetzel, one of a noted border family of coarse, powerful, illiterate Indian fighters, had gone out from the fortified village in which his kinsfolk were living to hunt horses.  Another boy went with him.  There were several stray horses, one being a mare which belonged to Wetzel’s sister, with a colt, and the girl had promised him the colt if he would bring the mare back.  The two boys were vigorous young fellows, accustomed to life in the forest, and they hunted high and low, and finally heard the sound of horse-bells in a thicket.  Running joyfully forward they fell into the hands of four Indians, who had caught the horses and tied them in the thicket, so that by the tinkling of their bells they might lure into the ambush any man who came out to hunt them up.  Young Wetzel made a dash for liberty, but received a shot which broke his arm, and then surrendered and cheerfully accompanied his captors; while his companion, totally unnerved, hung back crying, and was promptly tomahawked.  Early next morning the party struck the Ohio, at a point where there was a clearing.  The cabins on this clearing were deserted, the settlers having taken refuge in a fort because of the Indian ravages; but the stock had been left running in the woods.  One of the Indians shot a hog and tossed it into a canoe they had hidden under the bank.  The captive was told to enter the canoe and lie down; three Indians then got in, while the fourth started to swim the stolen horses across the river.