d, 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 refused
admittance at that door, made an effort at the opposite one. That door
they soon beat open with a rail, and endeavored to take the three girls
prisoners. The little girl sprang away, and might have escaped from them
in the darkness and the woods. But the forlorn child, under the natural
impulse of instinct, ran for the other door and cried for help. The
brothers within, it may be supposed, would wish to go forth and protect
the feeble and terrified wailer. The mother, taking a broader view of
expedience and duty, forbade them. They soon hushed the cries of the
distracted child by the merciless tomahawk. While a part of the Indians
were engaged in murdering this child, and another in confining one of
the grown girls that they had made captive, the third heroically
defended herself with a knife, which she was using at a loom at the
moment of attack. The intrepidity she put forth was unavailing. She
killed one Indian, and was herself killed by another. The Indians,
meanwhile, having obtained possession of one half the house, fired it.
The persons shut up in the other half had now no other alternative than
to be consumed in the flames rapidly spreading towards them, or to go
forth and expose themselves to the murderous tomahawks, that had already
laid three of the family in their blood. The Indians stationed
themselves in the dark angles of the fence, where, by the bright glare
of the flames, they could see every thing, and yet remain themselves
unseen. Here they could make a sure mark of all that should escape from
within. One of the sons took charge of his aged and infirm mother, and
the other of his widowed sister and her infant. The brothers emerged
from the burning ruins, separated, and end