had concealed herself, with her four children, in the brush of a thicket, which, together with the darkness, screened her from observation.  Had she chosen to have left her infant behind, she might have escaped.  But she grasped it, and held it to her bosom, although aware that its shrieks would betray their covert.  The Indians, guided to the spot by its cries, killed the three larger children, and took her and her infant captives.  The unfortunate and bereaved mother was obliged to accompany their march on an untamed and unbroken horse.

Intelligence of these massacres and cruelties circulated rapidly.  Captain Whitley immediately collected twenty-one men from the adjoining stations, overtook, and killed two of these savages, retook the desolate mother, her babe, and a negro servant, and the scalps of the six persons whom they had killed.  Ten days afterwards, another party of immigrants, led by Mr. Moore, were attacked, and nine of their number killed.  Captain Whitley pursued the perpetrators of this bloody act, with thirty men.  On the sixth day of pursuit through the wilderness, he came up with twenty Indians, clad in the dresses of those whom they had slain.  They dismounted and dispersed in the woods though not until three of them were killed.  The pursuers recovered eight scalps, and all the plunder which the Indians had collected at the late massacre.

An expedition of General Clarke, with a thousand men, against the Wabash Indians, failed in consequence of the impatience and discouragement of his men from want of provisions.  Colonel Logan was more successful in an expedition against the Shawnese Indians on the Scioto.  He surprised one of the towns, and killed a number of the warriors, and took some prisoners.

In October, 1785, the General Government convoked a meeting of all the Lake and Ohio tribes to meet at the mouth of the Great Miami.  The Indians met the summons with a moody indifference and neglect, alleging the continued aggressions of the Kentuckians as a reason for refusing to comply with the summons.

The horrors of Indian assault were occasionally felt in every settlement.  We select one narrative in detail, to convey an idea of Indian hostility on the one hand, and the manner in which it was met on the other.  A family lived on Coope’s run, in Bourbon county, consisting of a mother, two sons of a mature age, a widowed daughter, with an infant in her arms, two grown daughters, and a daughter of ten years.  The house was a double cabin.  The two grown daughters and the smaller girl were in one division, and the remainder of the family in the other.  At evening twilight, a knocking was heard at the door of the latter division, asking in good English, and the customary western phrase, “Who keeps house?” As the sons went to open the door, the mother forbade them, affirming that the persons claiming admittance were Indians.  The young men sprang to their guns.  The Indians, finding themselves