England, and during the war waged
by Pontiac, there was one prominent chief who did not take up the
hatchet. His name was the English one of John Logan. He was a Mingo,
or Iroquois, of a Cayuga band that had drifted south into east central
Pennsylvania.

There Chief Shikellemus, his father, had settled and had proved himself
a firm friend of the whites. Old Shikellemus invited the Moravian
missionaries to take refuge on his lands. He spoke good English. He
acted as agent between his people and the Province of Pennsylvania. He
was hospitable and shrewd, and ever refused to touch liquor because, as
he said, he "did not wish to become a fool."

His house was elevated on stilts, as protection against the "big
drunks."

About 1725, a second son was born to him and his wife, and named
Tah-gah-jute, meaning "His-eye-lashes-stick-out," or, "Open-eyes." In
admiration of his good friend James Logan, of Philadelphia, secretary
of Pennsylvania, and sometimes acting governor, Chief Shikellemus gave
little Tah-gah-jute the English name of Logan.

As "John Logan" he was known to the settlers.

The wise and upright Shikellemus died--"in the fear of the Lord." His
people scattered wider. Logan his son moved westward, to the Shawnee
and Delaware country of Pennsylvania.

Here he married a Shawnee girl. He set up housekeeping and traded
venison and skins with the white settlers, for powder, ball, and sugar
and flour.

The tide of white blood was surging ever farther into the west, and the
Indians' hunting grounds. Many of the Indians grew uneasy. Pontiac's
Bloody Belt passed from village to village, but the weary and nervous
traveler was always welcome at the cabin of Logan, "friend of the white
man."

A white hunter, Brown, trailing bear in the Pennsylvania timber, laid
aside his rifle and stooped to drink at a spring. Suddenly he saw
mirrored in the clear water the tall figure of an armed Indian,
watching him. Up he sprang, leaped for his gun, leveled it--but the
Indian smiled, knocked the priming from his own gun, and extended his
hand.

This was Logan--"the best specimen of humanity I ever met with, red or
white," wrote Brown. "He could speak a little English, and told me
there was another white hunter a little way down the stream, and guided
me to his camp."

Other stories of Logan's kindnesses to the whites in his country are
told. In the latter part of 1763, a party of white settlers had broken
in upo