hrouded wilderness. He left behind him
the dead bodies of his three friends, to be washed on the shallows by
the turbid flood of the great river. [Footnote: De Haas, pp. 283-292. De
Haas gathered the facts of these and numerous similar incidents from the
pioneers themselves in their old age; doubtless they are often
inaccurate in detail, but on the whole De Haas has more judgment and may
be better trusted than the other compilers. In the Draper MSS. are
volumes of such traditional stories, gathered with no discrimination
whatever.]

Monotonous Horror of the Ravages.

These are merely some of the recorded incidents which occurred in the
single year 1785, in one comparatively small portion of the vast stretch
of territory which then formed the Indian frontier. Many such occurred
on all parts of this frontier in each of the terrible years of Indian
warfare. They varied infinitely in detail, but they were monotonously
alike in their characteristics of stealthy approach, of sudden onfall,
and of butcherly cruelty; and there was also a terrible sameness in the
brutality and ruthlessness with which the whites, as occasion offered,
wreaked their revenge. Generally the Indian war parties were successful,
and suffered comparatively little, making their attacks by surprise, and
by preference on unarmed men cumbered with women and children.
Occasionally they were beaten back; occasionally parties of settlers or
hunters stumbled across and scattered the prowling bands; occasionally
the Indian villages suffered from retaliatory inroads.

Attack on the Lincoln Family.

One attack, simple enough in its incidents, deserves notice for other
reasons. In 1784 a family of "poor white" immigrants who had just
settled in Kentucky were attacked in the daytime, while in the immediate
neighborhood of their squalid cabin. The father was shot, and one Indian
was in the act of tomahawking the six-year-old son, when an elder
brother, from the doorway of the cabin, shot the savage. The Indians
then fled. The boy thus rescued grew up to become the father of Abraham
Lincoln. [Footnote: Hay and Nicolay.]

Now and then the monstrous uniformity of horror in assault and reprisal
was broken by some deed out of the common; some instance where despair
nerved the frame of woman or of half-grown boy; some strange incident in
the career of a backwoods hunter, whose profession perpetually exposed
him to Indian attack, but also trained him as naught e