MARY BARKER, THRILLING NARRATIVE OF EARLY LIFE IN NORTH CA.ROLINA. 1 1 CHARACTERS : lyiARY BARKER; TONLIN, the Chief's Son; VELNA, the Chief's Daughter: GATLIN, the Renegade. I BY CHARLIE VERNON, (SECOND EDITION.) RALEIGH, N. C. BRANSON & FARRAR, FATETTEVILLE ST., 1865. V,^ MARY BARKEE, BY CHABLIE YERNON./f -^0 [SECOND EDITION P.ALEIGH, N. C. BEANSON «fe FAREAR, FATETTEVILLE ST., 1865. COPY RIGHT SECURED ACCORDING TO LAW. "DAILY STANDARD" PRINT. MARY BARKER. CHAPTER I. Dusky Dell, the name given to my father's resi- dence, is the strangest, most weird and ghost-hke place to be found in Randolph county. The loca- tion is in a valley enclosed by steep, rugged hills ; up the little stream is a dark pine forest, that per- petually sends a melancholy moaning along the hills like some wailing spirit, seeking rest and find- ing none ; down the valley is an extensive view of rolling country, covered with a low, scraggy, copse- wood, having an occasional pine tree, that in the dusk of evening looks like some dark-robed spirit meditating evil. The place is not without a cer- tain species of beauty, but it is a beauty so spec- .tral and unearthly, that it has no gladness in it. Then the house adds to the sombre, haunted, dreary aspect of the scene. It is a large old-fashioned establishment, begun long before the Revolution, and apparently not finished yet. Some chimnies are stone, some are brick ; one part of the house is made of logs, another is framed and ceiled, and MARY BARKER. ral large upland streams, preductive agriculturally, remote from cities and railroads, it is peculiarly adapted to grave and mysterious reflection. The early history of the county was full of stirring events, and many of these still linger in the tradi- tions of the people as rare, rich old legends. My old uncle, the finest specimen of a past generation, was the oracle of the section in which he lived. He gave us the following, which in its essential facts is known to be true : A company of young people had been having a rather merry time, and were just' at dusk laughing at some local traditions, when the said " old uncle," coming up, bade us be quiet and come into the house, as something strange was about to happen. " Come, come, uncle," we replied, " our college life has raised us above these follies." "Follies, a fiddle-stick," said the old gentleman, somewhat testily, " listen to sound sense, and guide your learning by good old experience." " But, uncle, you do not believe that chickens know any thing about coming events, or that half these old tales told and believed in this section are true ?" " Faith ! but 1 know chickens do just what God made them to do, and when they act in an un- usual way, it is because something unusual is on foot." " But, these old tales, do you believe them, do you not think they are fictions?" MAEY BARKER. " Every one is founded in fact. For instance, the story of Mary Barker is in all essentials true. The Cravens, the Barkers, Gatlins, &c., are well known, some of the persons mentioned in the story are yet remembered. Then the localities are as well known as any places can be." "Well, uncle, tell us that history to-night, as some of our party never heard it." Having assented to our proposition, the old gen- tleman gave us the following, only his eloquent manner was beyond the power of our prose de- scription : " When my father first came to this country, he settled near Deep river, about twelve miles east of Asheboro', in Kandolph county, as it is now called ; there were no other settlers within twenty miles, except three families, and they were within two miles. We had no mills nor meeting houses, nor any thing except four good log cabins, a few horses, cows, hogs, &c. About the middle of the neighborhood we made a large pile of wood, with the agreement that whenever the Indians should be seen in or about the settlement, that whoever saw them should as soon as possible set fire to the pile as a warning to all. This little precaution having been taken, all went to work to clear fields, build stables and arrange whatever might be necessary. Tilings had thus progressed for more than eighteen months, when my brother in passing near the pile met a strange white man, who seemed a4 .*^ 8 MARY BARKER. very friendly, and asked a great many questions, but would give no account of himself as to his name or destination. The occurrence was soon known over the neighborhood and occasioned considera- ble uneasiness, and the same evening it was parti- cularly noticed that the chiclcens crowed upon the roost throughout the settlement. About an hour after dark my sister ran into the house with the terrible news that the pile was on fire ; instantly all the doors were boiled and propped, and my father took his station in front in order to fire the alarm gun if an Indian should be seen about the house ; having held his gun for some time, and becoming weary, he tore off some hooks from the wall and nailed them over the door to lay his gun upon, and this was the origin of gun-racks over the door. Prior to this time houses had latches on the outside, but they were now placed within, with a string attached, in order that the inmates might be apprised if an enemy secretly attempted to gain admission. During all that night we kept watch, but no Indian was heard ; in the morning search was made but no enemy could be found ; a deep calamity, however, had fallen upon the neighbor^ hood ; Mrs. Mary Barker, the wife of one of the settlers was gone ; not a vestige of her departure could be obtained. In the early part of the night she was with her husband in the house, qjpout mid' night her absence was discovered, but no window, door, nor other means of escape could be found by t*^-^ MAEY BARKEE. P which she seemed to have gone out. The family coDsisted of herself, two sisters, three small children and her husband ; Mrs. Barker was a woman of more than ordinary strength of body as well as courage of mind, and was not only the life ot her own home, but of the entire settlement. The in- telligence of her absence fell like thunder upon the astonished neighbors, a deep gloom rested upon every thing, the rain-crows cawed in the tree tops, and the chiekena crowed with a peculiar loneliness. A short distance from the house one of Mrs. Barker's shoes was found, close by it a bloody handkerchief, different from any thing known in the settlement, and a few yards farther on, a letter from a merchant of Philadelphia to Wm. Gatlia of Jamestown, Va. Except the above not a trace, trail, track, nor sign of any description could be found, all hope of recovering the lost lady was given up. That evening as John Barker and Peter Craven, were returning from a search, and within two miles of home, just as they were crossing a braach at the upper part of a plantation now owned by Jnmes Curtis, they distinctly heard a female voice cry out, "Oh! my husband and my children." Alarmed and excited, they searched in every direction, but could neither see nor hear anything. They at length sat out for home, hardly knowing what to think or how to act, and not a little inclined to think the whole land haunted. But before they a5 % MAEY BARKEfi. fiad proceeded far, and near what is now called the "cross road school-house," Craven stopped short with the exclamation, "What's that!" Di- rectly in the road before them stood a tall Indian with Mrs. Barker by his side. " My God !" ex- claimed Barker, and instantly fired at the Indian's heart, and both ran forward to rescue the lady. Horror struck, the blood chilled in their veins, they stopt short, neither of them able to speak nor move. Neither Indian nor lady was there, nor were they any where to be seen ; though dusk, yet could they see sufficiently well to know that no mortals could have escaped thus. They were convinced at once that it was the ghost of Mrs. Barker, and that in all probability, she was that very evening dying by Indian torture ; for accor- ding to a popular belief that prevailed at that day, the ghost of a person might always be seen about the time of the person's death ; nor has the belief subsided yet, many are afraid to travel about at night where there is a corpse in the neighborhood ; they scarcely know why, but the reason is evident. Formerly it was believed that on such occasions ghosts were sure to be met, and though that belief is no longer indulged, fear, the effect of the belief, still reigns. Before Barker and Craven had proceeded three hundred yards, down in a low and rather dark valley, they were alarmed or rather scared worse than ever, for there stood the Indian and lady be- MAEY BARKER, 11 ~l fore them ; they attempted to go round, but whea they moved the ghosts moved, and when one 8toj)-| ped so did the other. At length Craven reool- Ifected, that if one could repeat a verse of scripture the ghost would leave ; he accordingly repeated one and the Indian and lady vanished away. These things convinced all the settlers that Mrs. Barker^ was murdered, and every man, woman and child j^ learned and had perfectly at command a verse of sfcripture, with which they might drive away., gliosts, if at any time they should see one. Fou* many years after that time, a lady could be heard calling to her husband and children, whenever, any one crossed that branch about dark, and slu.^ Indian and white lady have often been seen stand- ing in the road a mile further on, ^ Peter Craven was in a superstitious communitj^ and lived in a superstitious era ; he possessed a rough, stony, uncultivated mind, and was by no means, disposed to oe led captive by every foolish or whimsical idea ; though he might listen to reason and might yield to plain, common sense sugges- . tions, he was not disposed to yield to what weaker r* minds might term good arguments. This charac-r* teristic of his influenced the further experiments upon the cross-road ghosts. The fogs of excite-- ment having cleared away during a night's sleep^,^^ Craven's first words to John Barker and William Allen on the next morning were : — *' Well, do you think them were real ghosts ?" a6 i¥ MART BARKER. ^*^Ko doubt of it," said Allen, "its jist like Vre hearn my father tell a thousand times. Why I in Ireland, I can tell thee, ghosts are seen in the dusk of evening almost as thick as bats." " Yes," said Barker, " and once I was Crossing the great bogs of Munster in Ireland, near lake Killarney not far from the very head spring of the Lee, as I Was passing the Little Neck about day- light-down, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and thirty-one, when Walpole, in the reign of George the second, was punishing^ George Eobinson for separating unto his own us^ the money of the Char at able Coblporation, righjt under a • 'twas an alder I believe ; well right there with these very eyes, as plain, as daylight in the fifth month where there is not a cloud to h^ Been, right there I saw my own dear father, one of the best men in Ireland^ and a long tried member of the society of friends ^ I saw him riding his own fifle bay horso, that was coked by the animal my mother inherited from my uncle James. O he was a splendid horse ; under the saddle all Hfe, in the gear all gentleness ; well, my father was riding that horse with a large hog across before him. No sooner did I see him than he stopped, put his hand into his bosom, pulled out his heart and offered it to me. Horrified, I ran to him and just as I reached forth my hand to touch him he vanished away. I knew wbat it meant and hastened home, and when I got there, what I expected was toa " MARY BAKKER. 13 true ; ray father was dead ; a large hog had killed him, and torn hiK heart loose from his body ; and now friends, I tell yon, I know my wife Mary is dead, an Indian has killed her, I see it, I feel it, I know it." " Ah I " exclaimed Allen, " what is to be will be." " But," said Craven, " I can't understand how it is after all ; suppose an Indian had killed her, why should her spirit come back, or if hers came, why did the Indian's come, unless he also has died?" " Man's wisdom," said Barker, " is as foolishness when such things are to be considered. But it's strange somehow or other, I noticed that very same chicken on that pole crowing yesterday, and now he's at it again ; I don't like it, it means something of no good." Every thing passed on after this as usual ; in a few days the great pile of wood was rebuilt, the houses were made a little stronger, and every Deeessary precaution that epuld be supposed of use, was attended to, On the next Sunday, the chickens perched upon the fences crowed all day long; after going to roost, they crowed with peculiar sadness, until a h'ght larger than a torch was seen by two of the families, when instantly all the crowing ceased. The light when first seen was about the middle of the river, and seemed to be fifteen or twenty feet 14 MARY BARKER* high'; after remaining there a short time, it inoved sloWly to the bank in a wavering Hne. Two or three yonng men started to it J before they could arrive at the point the light Was crossing a creek ; eager to overtake, for the light moved slowly, they rushed through the water and continued to pursue* Onward they went, through bamboo briars, poison vines and every imaginable obstruction ; all feaf^ all thoughts of bear, panther or lurking Indian were forgotten, their excitement increased as they proceeded, and their hearts exulted with the deter- mination to see what the light was. In the course of a half hour, they came to a strange creek, one they had never seen before, though well acquainted in that direction. What added no little to their astonishment was, that the stream ran in the wrong direction; the creek they had crossed first, and with which they were well acquainted, ran to the left, but they now approached one that was moving sluggishly to the right ; they knew also that they could not possibly be very far from the river, and how the creek could be running directly from it they could not imagine. They wished now to stop, but found it impossible, a strange power drew them onward ; nor were they able to turn their backs to the light. For many hours they followed on through briar thickets, across creeks, and over worse places than they had ever seen before. At last the light stopped over a house which they at once recognized to be John Barker's. The light MARY BARKEE. l5 turned to the shape of a boy and went npwards out of flight. Arousing Barker's family, one of his children was missing, it had gone to bed with the other one, but was now absent. CHAPTER II. The consternation and grief of Barker, and in- deed of the whole neighborhood, was immense, when it became evident that little Enoch Barker was gone. After careful search in all directions, after continuing the search for several days, and after trying every possible means of detecting any imposition, all hope was given over. The tone of the community changed ; the light laugh that for- merly rang clear upon the evening air, the rustic song that once made the fields resound, were hushed ; the shrill whistle that in days gone by had beguiled the slow moving hours as the plough boy pursued his daily task, was heard no more. The inhabitants had vague suspicions that in this wild, unexplored land, some evil spirits might carry off people soul, body and all together ; they thought it might be possible that they were tres- passing upon the rightful domain of the Red man ; that the great Spirit might avenge the people of his care by destroying the aggressors. While in li MARY BARltER. this doubtful condition, this suspense that kills, the high blazing of the great wood-pile in the dead of night again startled their wildest apprehensions 5 every one kept his wife and children in some cor- ner. The fear of the Indians was at an end ; no one barred his door, none now stood with rifle in hand ; all looked to see the dark paw of the Indian god reached forth to grab a loved child ; as each one peered into the surrounding darkness he ex- pected to see the glaring eye-balls of Whor gleam- ing with fury, and eager for human victims. At this juncture loud cries and screams were heard in the direction of Barker's. The hair of the stoutest men stood upright, their flesh twitched convul- sively ; the women were hushed in terror, and the children scarcely drew breath. Every man felt that he ought to rush to the relief of his neighbor ; their blood froze at the probable fate of the Barker family; yet who could go? Who could leave his own family exposed to some dread danger, in order to protect another? In fact, who could muster courage enough to go a mile through dark woods on such a night ? But now a t orritic explosion at the great burning pile made the very earth quiver, and sent the burning limbs and sticks to the vault of heaven ; then followed such an unearthly howl- ing, groaning and squalling, as if all the fiends and elves in the universe were croaking the prelude of destruction. What that explosion could be no mortal in that community could tell ; the sound MARY BARKER. 17 and the effect were like powder, but nothing short of a whole keg was adequate, and that quantity of powder was not in the settlement. All at once concluded that it must be the work of the Devil, and that the horrific noise that followed was the wailing of the lost. The three families — for there were but three besides the Barkers— started as if by concert all together, women, children and all. They all arrived near the same time, and found Barker find the two sisters of his wife in the house, but so terrified that they were well nigh crazed. The other two children were gone. They both stepped out of the house, one scream was heard, father and aunts dashed to the door only to see them borne off by a nameless monster, that seemed to be neither man, brute nor devil. It seemed to be a huge something with several human heads, in each of which were two eyes that glared like balls of fire ; it had several tails, on each of which blue blazes were burning; it had apparently about fifty long legs armed with nails like scythe blades, and these legs it could make longer or shorter at pleas- ure, so that it could stand off entirely out of sight, and poke in its paw at a window or down a chim- ney and drag out a child or even a man. Finally, it had large wings, and after holding up the chil- dren in its great scaly clutches, pushing them close to their parent and then pulling them back several times, it rose up, and, flapping its horrid wings with a low moaning sound, sailed off towards the 18 MART BARKER. river. Barker and the two women were stupefied and benumbed by a strange sensation, their heads swam, their sight grew dim, their power of hear- ing was nearly destroyed, and in this state they were by something, they knew not what, carried into the house. The doors seemed to slam to, of their own accord, the fire went out, the gun, hang- ing upon the door, fired with a heavy boom, the dog ran and hallooed, a heavy rattling of chains was heard without, and a strong stench of sulphur became suflfocating. In a short time the neighbors arrived, and found the scared trio as above named ; they could tell the circumstances as just related, but they had heard no persons screaming, they knew not how the water-pail came to be in the fire- place, nor how the numerous fires about the yard came to be there. All were alarmed, every one thought that such things were most certainly the work of demons, or awful judgments sent from God as marks of his displeasure. The whole community, numbering only eighteen persons, went to Peter Craven's to spend the night. None, however, thought of sleep- ing ; sleep w^as as far from their eye-lids, as they were from knowing how to act in their present circumstances. They knew not how to act or how to protect themselves from a monster that seemed proof against all ordinary modes of protection ; they had reasons to expect that the winged fiend would drag some of them up the chimney, or per- MART BARKER. 19 haps pull them through the key hole. All were afraid to sit next the wall, across the house or next the fire ; they were afraid to go to bed, and afraid to sit up. If the house creaked, a foot moved, or the fire popped, all jumped and repeated verses of scripture. Towards day Barker rose and said : "Friends, I was one of the first to propose coming here, I loved the thoughts of being far in a wild country, where the foolish ways of worldly-minded men would not disturb me. I thought the hand of our great Crea- tor was every where to protect, but either he has no power here, or I have greatly oflfended him. My wife is gone, my children are gone, and it seems probable that I must follow. I now propose to return to Pennsylvania, the land of my fathers; there I know the Lord of mercy resides. Let us pack up our goods, it is now the middle of Spring, and we can reach our native country in time to plant a sufficient crop." Barker sat down ; a deep silence prevailed for some time; all were thinking, but none seemed willing to speak. Finally, a very timid youth by the name of Spinks, arose and said : " Most of you are older than myself; I speak not to influence you, but I can tell you what I am. I came here trusting in God, and all the many-headed, burning- tailed, limber- clawed, bla-ck-winged devils in crea- tion can't scare me away. Great evil has come upon us, but I don't believe God's to blame ; I tell 20 MARY BARKER. you, some wicked, soulless rascals are engaged in this work ; and if you will all stand up to me, I'll kill the whole pack, or if I don't, the flying fiend is welcome to my bones." Raising himself to the highest pitch, with an eye and voice that made the whole group quake, he exclaimed, " in the name of God and the Holy Prophets, I dare, threaten and defy Indians, ghosts, satan and all other wick- ed spirits of every grade and station. If every body else leaves this place, I never will, no never." This little speech had a tremendous effect, every one felt stronger ; the young man threw open the door and walked the yard, went round the house, came in and kept moving from point to point. The idea of returning to Pennsylvania was at once abandoned. They agreed to go early next morn- ing and examine Barker's premises, in order to determine if possible, the cause of so much dis- turbance. CHAPTER III. On the following mornins:, when the sun appear- ed over the eastern hills, and the heavy fog that hung over the river's channel, rolled off to the southeast, every thing looked so clear and bright; MARY BAEKEE. 2l the deep green foliage look ad so flourishing, and the birds chirped so merrily, that each one almost felt ashamed of his alarm on the preceding night. In spite of clear sun-shine, however, it was evident that the alarm was not fiction ; for two stont chil- dren were gone ; this was a real, unmistakable matter, and stood as a witness of contradiction to any conclusions of humbug. At an early hour all proceeded to Barker's to investigate by daylight the horrors of darkness. The appearance of things about the great wood pile, where the explosion was heard the night before, proved that an explo- sion had actually occurred ; sticks of wood were scattered in all directions, and the ground upon which the wood had lain, was swept perfectly clean. Nothing but powder, or some infernal agency equal to it, could have produced such an eifect. But whence the powder came, who placed and tired it, or for what purpose it was done, no person could even conjecture. Proceeding on to Barker's house, things seemed not greatly out of fix ; but minute examination showed a number of the most hideous tracks ever made by min, beast or monster. The tiacks were roundish, nearly a foot in dianneter, and seemed to be surrounded with claws. But the most remark- able matter was a letter, or sheet of writing which was lying between two small boards on the door-step. The writing was upon a thick, tough substance, unlike any thing the beholders had ever 22 MARY BARKER. seen before. It purported to be a letter written by Mary Barker, the woman whose absence wafi the commencement of troubles ; the contents were as follows : " To Hannah Moflitt on Earth, the third first at- tendant orb of system Seraphous, no. 22384:, now in section Gemini, direct over Enoch's palace, across by Pearl gate 143. To be carried by one of Gabriel's attendants. "Dear Sister — I am safe in heaven. I am now sitting in my emerald colonade; on the eastern wing of my mansion are the plains of glory : on my head is a crown that would dim the little sun that rules your day ; I am robed in white glory, the texture of which I cannot describe, and I have just laid down a harp that is so constructed that all I have to do is to blow upon it, and it sings all the songs of heaven. We all sing the same thing ; the great melodium of God sets the tune, and all our harps instinctively follow. Before me is the throne reaching higher than I can see ; on my left is the river of life, and on;my right ia the grand museum. I never knew till I came here why Elijah was taken up alive ; the Lord has placed him in his great museum, and all nations flock to see a specimen ot man purified 'by the blood of Christ. But, my dear sister, I have a tale of woe to un- fold. I was murdered, cruelly, brutally murdered, and that by the last person in the world you would MARY BARKER. 23 suspect. I wa9 murdered bj John Barker, my husband. He produced all that disturbance, and he is still at it ; he has murdered three of my chil- dren, and before long he will murder you. You know in my young days, I was promised to Wil- liam Gatlin, and that Barker continued to break it off and then married me himself. But before this took place he was also engaged to a woman in Pennsylvania ; on the day before he murdered me, Gatlin brought him a letter from this woman. This letter informed him that the woman was near- ly deranged about him ; and that she would still marry him, if he would have her. He immediate- ly laid his plans to kill his wife and children, and 80 manage as to keep the affair in the dark ; this he has done, and so soon as he has killed you, he will go back to Pennsylvania. Barker is the mean- est man upon earth; he blew up the wood pile with a keg of powder, and if yon will look under the old root just below the spring, you will find the keg with some powder still in it. He made those huge tracks with a great block which he fixed for the purpose, and the block is now under a brush- heap below the house. He killed me with a large knife, and he has killed all the children with the same knife. The light which those young men followed, was fire that Baker carried himself, all of which he has done to deceive. If you will look under a large rock, near the river, at the mouth of the branch, you will find our clothes, some bloody 24 MART BARKER. and some with holes stabbed through them. I advise you to show this to the nighbors and let them seize the wretch ; it is the will of heaven that he should be burned alive. I am only allowed to send this in order to spare the innocent and pun- ish the guilty. Act quickly. MARY— A SPIRIT." All former astonishment was nothing to what now seized the hearers ; every eye fell upon Barker, and beneath that concentrated look he quailed. When asked what he had to say to this, he merely rJdmarked that they all knew it was false, and demanded that they should search for the powder and the clothes. A few steps brought them to the old root, and to the utter surprise of all, the powder and keg were there. Barker said nothing, but simply mentioned that they should gb^ to the river and search for the clothes. Within fifteen minutes they were at the designated rock, and there were the clothes and a huge knife with John Baker engraved upon the handle. This was conclusive. Barker turned white as cloth, reeled , and fell. In a few minutes he recovered; then raising his hands and eyes to heaven, he said, " Great God, thou knowest I am innocent. The Devil has taken my wife and children, my heart is broken, my soul bleeds ; if it were thy will I would die. Oh ! God, this is a bitter cup, how can I bear it?" He fell back senseless and knew no MARY IJAilKEil. 9r» more for ten days. Petor Craven carried him home and nursed hira during his iihiess. On the next day after these events, an informal assemblage was held to determine what disposition should be made of Barker. All seemed to be fulh' persuaded of his guilt. Xumberless circumstances confirmed the statements of the letter. They could see tliat he had not been much affected at the loss of his wife; he had been but little disposed to search eitlier for her or the children ; he had eeemed to express no astonishment at the liglit the young men saw vanish over his house. The pow- der, the clothes, and especially the knife, confirm- ed the matter beyond dispute. He was a base, malicious murderer ; he was certainly the blackest criminal in the catalogue of crime. But what should be done to him ; how should lie be disposed of; these were questions more easily asked than answered. They had no law, no magistrates, no otiicers, and no legal means of inflicting punisli- ment. After much consultation, it was determined to take him as lie then Avas, in an insane condition, and hang him. As none other tlian Lynch law could be ue-.ed, it was thongiit best to use it when the guilty man would know nothing of his dco^rada- tion. At this jnnctui'e, Spinks again rose wit'ii tlie same earnestness that marked his manner on the night above described. He spoke as follows : "Friends, you seem to act rashly ; it mav be be- n 20 MARY liXR-KKU. caPiSe I am an io^norant boj, but I ti;iiik you de- termine without reason. There is indeed much- that is strange in vrhat has happened ; I am una- ble to nndorstand or explain it, but I have no con- iidenee in it. Can von believe tliat letter was sent from lieaven? It' yon do, I "do not. Vfe are told that the last revelations have been made ; why then should one so specitic as this be sent down? Or was there ever since the w^orld began, any writing sent iVom h.eaven ? Ko, and never will be. I tell 3'on ogain, some deep, iirlei-nal plot is at work. I charge yon not to stain yonr hands wnth innocent blood. I feel a deep impiession that T shall yet be able to expose the whole matter." The old men si ook ilieir heads, talked of boyish notions, &e., and seemed disposed to act upon tlieir own counsels. The speech, however, cooled their ardor, they agreed to let Barker alone for a time, and closely v/atch his movements. The two yonug women went to iMhou's, and as soon as Barker re- covered, he rctutned to his own desolate home and seemed content to live there. Tilings again progressed quietly, and affairs began to look pros- ])erons and peaceable, when Barker liimselfwas missed. After vraiiing and looking for several daj's, all were conyinccd that lie liad returned as the letter ])redictcd. The young man was much blamed for h.is counsels, and indeed some surmised that he was concerned in the matter himself All fchunned him and hooked upon hiim with deep sus- MARY i3AiiK::r:. 27 picion. To confirm tiie coiivictiou, Spinks, in about two weeks, disappeaietl : uoiie doubted tluit ho was au acc<>inp!ice of barker's, and that both l^ad re- turned to rciinsjivaiiia. CHAPTER ly. Wk must now clianae tliC poeiie, and narrate tlie fictions of other places and Mmes. \Vm. Gatiin, as above intimated, liad been engaged to the lady John Darker afterwards married ; Gatiin was sup- planted and that seemed to be the end of liis pre- tensions, ihit, in fact, it was not; deep, silent and eternal in Jiis hate, by a horrid <'ath, he had sworn tliat Barker should rue his conduct. Gatiin was a scholar and a man of decided talent ; and a man of such tiimness of purpose, that time, the destroy- er of all tilings mortal, seemed to have no power over his resolves. When Baiker migrated to Car- olina, Gatiin followed him ; like a fierce tiger, he kept his eye npon the booty. Having associated much with the Indians in his earlier days, he conld, to some extent, conver^^e with them ; roving about the new settlement, he at longfh met with a large encampment of Indians at what is yet called the Indian spring, near the plantation of Jee^se Bra}', b2 '2-6 MA.KY BAIiKEK. about ono and a lialf miles above the Buiialo lord on Deep river. This was quite a village ; the foun- tain is to this day renowned for its beauty and ex- cellence ; the land about it is rich ; the resources for fishing were tlien excellent, and game of choice quality v/as abundant. That neighborhood, com- posed of Coxes, Brays, Popes, Carrells, Aliens, Moffitts, &C.J is now one of the wealthiest in Kan- dolph. Gatlin joined the powerful Indian tribe that then owned those lands; he pretended to be a deserter from the white man. By his skill and good con- duct, he soon became a favorite ; the red sojourn- ers of the forest loved him and made him a chief of one division. He told the Indians, that a white- man had stolen his wife and carried her off, and for that reason, he, Gatlin, had left his brethren and sworn eternal hate against them. He often related to them how he would like to sealp the white foe, and burn their dying bodies to cinders. He had not been in the camp more than a month,, before the return of a hunting party brought in- telligence, that a settlement of white men was forming a few miles up the river. Gatlin, though knowing it well, pretended to be much astonished and. expressed great anxiety to see who they were, and whence they come. As chief he had com- mand of a small band of you:!g men, and on the next morning he started witli these for the purpose of making such investigations as he chose. Hav- MART BARKLJ:. 2d ing left hiB young men at some distance, Gatliii prowled about the settlement until be linally met one of the settlers near the great wood-pile, as de- tailed in chapter 1. His object was not to learn, for he already knew all the localities, but he wish- ed to make the Indians believe that he was truly in earnest. Returning to his comrades, he inform- ed them that he had discovered his wife; that the wretch Jo!m Barker, who had married or ran oft* with her, was one of the new coiners, and that Bince she had left him she had become the mother of three children. The savage young warriors nrged Gatlin to simply shoot Barker, and take his wife to the Indian camp. Gatlin waved his hand as a token for silence, and said, " My wrong, like a slow rising thunder storm, has been gathering strength for years, and must not be exhausted by one lead ball. I will torture Barker with every pang of human suffering, I will then commence at his toes and take him to pieces joint by joint, un- til the operation kills him, and after that I will burn his d — d remnants to ashes. As to that wo- man, I will bring her away alive, [ will treat her as I like, and I w ill then put her to death with my own hands. Those three children shall be shot to death with sharp arrows. I swear by this wampum belt, that this shall be done." Gatlin's object was to entice Mary Barker from her home ; he knew that by so doing, he could torture Barker and her butli much more, than by k3 30 MARY BARKEE. offering any violence. Ilis plans had for some time been laid ; he intended to convince her that her sister whom she had left in Pennsylvania, was then among the Indi'ins. Being a ready scribe he connterfeited a letter in the iollowing words: ''Dear sister Mary : — I am a captive. The In- dians have J^illod onr father and mother, and all the family except me. I am to be bnrnt to death to night nhle:-8 I am redeemed. It is an Indian law, if my sister lays her liand n])on my head, that I and my sister too are forever safe after that. Wm. Gadin was captured also, but has his liberty by giving his word not. to gi^ away ; I pray you to come with him to night an^i we will both return in the morning. Come, O ! come. Think of the burning stake ! Mr. Gatliu has happened to find out your settlement, and is wilh'ng to bring you.. You must not let any of your folks know it. Your sister, . Sarah.''^^ After giving liis companion some instructions-,. Gatlin went to Barker's spring and took his station by an old root. In the space of an hour Mary np- peared vmh the water pail. Gatlin stepped off a little and then advanced toward the spring in haste. Mrs. Barker w^as so affriglited at his nnexpzcted appearance, that she was al>out to retreat to the house, but ho called to her v»^ith a kind voice, and without any explanation handed her the letter. HART BARKER. 31 She was completely deceived. Tears gathered in her eyes as she thanked GatUn for his kindness. Having no ground for suspicion, she indulged none ; she had known Gatliu from childhood, and had always- considered him a very genteel person. She inquired it her husband might not go at least a portion of the distance to the Indian camp; the vile deceiver replied that Mr. Barker must know nothing of her intentions. Having agreed, accord- ing to his suggestion, to steal out during an uproar which he should raise by firing the wood-pile, they parted, he to chuckle over the success of his vil- lainy, and she to spend her last happy evening of life. Under a bed in the hous«, was a loose plank, the existence of which was totally forgotten by all the family except Mrs. Barker; by this means during the alarm at night, she escaped without difficulty, as the door was nearly two feet from the ground. She met Gatlin but a few yards in roar of the house ; he advised her to change her shoes for a pair he had ; she did so, and he dropped one of hers purposely ; a little further on he dropped a hand- kerchief which he Lad carefully bloodied during the day, and in drawing the handkerchief from his pocket, he unintentionally dropped the letter be- fore mentioned. Having proceeded about a mile, just after crossing the river in a canoe, Gatlin re- marked : *' Mary, you hud better pass for my wife, while you are among the Indians." 64 k "^^ MARY BARKER. ^' Why SO,'' replied Mary, in evident alarm? , "Because," said the fiend, ^' you can do more good by that means; and in fact, you can just change the matter for a sliort timet you know I wanted you once.'' . , |...t)eep emotion and black suspicion choked Mary c|v "^^^^^ ' ®^^^ ^^^n said : od/ -^'^^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^o ^J own family." ^/ 'You will never see them again," answered Gatlin. UHiJ:' CHAPTER Y. About the year 1710, the Tuscarora Indians be- came displeased with the settlers in ISTorth Caro- lina, and laid a deep plot to murder the whole population in one night. The better to eiFect their measures, they pretended great intimacy and friendship, visited the whites more frequently than usual, and used all ordinary Indian methods of showing attachment. The fatal day arrived that was to be the last to many men, women and children ; nature seeme(i" dressed in her most love- ly attire, and held out to her creature man every prospect of peace, happiness and plenty. In the afternoon, twelve hundred Indian warriors ^e^ MART BARKER. 33 lected from the wliole Tuscarora nation, armed with the murderous tomahawk and ponderous war-club, but without the usual war paint, moved towards the unsuspecting whites. They marched silently on, not intending to give any alarm, and dispersed themselves over the entire colony: about dusk, in a very friendly manner, they en- tered the dwellings of the whites, and asked for something to eat. Food was placed before them, but they could not be pleased ; they faulted their entertainers and seemed to be inclined to be un- civil. In a short time the far-sounding, deep-toned, ominous war-whoop rang from hill to dale; the whites sprang to arms and resistance, but it was too late. The whole country was illumined by burning houses; the yell of furious eavages wao terrific beyond description; the startling shrieks of innocent victims in the agonies of death, were guffici^nt to have arrestetl tt.e liowlings of the bot- tomless pit. Fatk-ers were eut down Aod scaiped, mothers were slain begging for mercy, and chil- dren were thrown into the hi izing remnants of their homes. But few escaped that dreadful night, especially in that part of the colony nearest the Indian eiicampmeut, A rendezvous however was effected, and a check put to the massacre ; a mes- senger was despatched to South Carolina, and in a very short time a sufficient force arrived to repel ;the invaders. In the midst of the carnage an In- 4i^^ leveled his tomahawk at ^n old ladjr who b5 34 MAKY BABKEB. attempted to screen or hide two small children under her apron ; as the weapon whirled through the air a boy about ten years of age leaped before it, hit it with a stick and turned it aside ; the exas- perated Indian raised his war-club to crush the boy to the earth, but with great skill the little hero parried this also. The Indian, struck with the boy's magnanimity, laid his hand upon his head and promised to spare him and those whom he had protected, upon condition that he — the boy — would go and live with. the Indians. The little fellow ac- cepted the offer, and after attending his grand- mother and the children to a place of safety, set out to his new home. The chief named the boy Brave, which continued to be his name as long as he lived. The tribe by which Brave was adopted lived in Chatham county, and had their encamp- ment on Hickory mountain. There were at this time few whites in all this part of the State ; Brave consequently saw no more of the pale faces until he was fifteen years of age ; at that age he went with the calamut of peace to the neighborhood where he was raised. He desired to see his rela- tions, especially his grandmother; he did not go as a white man, but as an Indian chief His robe was a well dressed buffalo skin ornamented with porcupine quills, his head dress was of war-eagle quills hanging down his back, his moccasins were of buckskin richly embroidered, and his necklace was an otter skin hung with eagle's talons. In his MARY BARKER. 35 band he carried a long spear and a bow tipped with horn, and round him was girded the broad belt of peace. None of the settlers knew him, so changed was his appearance by age and still more by his Indian dre>s. He inquired for his grand- mother ; she had died more than two years before ; his two sisters yet lived, and were at a house a few miles distant. Hither he directed his way ; his sisters, after a moment's hesitation recognized him, and poured profusely upon his neck the tears of joy ; they had long thought him dead, when sud- denly he stood before them a strong, beautiful youth of fifteen. Scarcely had the joy of meeting subsided, when five huge Indians, in all the deco- rations of war, were seen approaching the house ; coming up to the door, they laid upon the sill the calamut and the tomahawk. Brave well knew the meaning of these things; walking quickly to the door he laid his own calamut (which is a pipe of peculiar fashion,) upon that of the Indians; then returning to his sisters, he inquired who in that house had slain an Indian. They protested that no one had, the family consisting only of them- selves and an elderly uncle. Brave frankly told them that such declarations were vain, that In- dians never made the proposal of peace or war until they were positively certain of the grounds upon which they acted ; that the calamut and tomahawk were laid at the door to signify that the inmates might have peace, if they would surrender b6 M MARY feARttER. the mnrderer ; and if the surrender was tiot made W^r \vas thereby declared against the house; that the time given for decision only lasted while the chief smoked out the contents of his pipe. The elder sister, in great trepidation, confessed that two days before, during the absence of her uncle,'^ she had shot an Indian, whom she at the time thought trying to enter the house by stealth : she added that she had since been convinced that the Indian meant no harm. Brave replied that the Indian law was " blood for blood," that no palia- tinsr circumstance could avert the doom, and that nothing short of her death would give satisfaction. Looking at his sister for a moment, and exhibiting terrible agony in his countenance. Brave went out to the Indians and gave himself up as the mur- derer. He was caused to stand erect, his calamut and tomahawk by his side, and the ordinary pipe in his mouth : two Indians stood before him at a distance of ten paces, with their rifles pointed at •' his heart. Proudly ihe young hero stood, deter- mined to die as became an Indian chief; becom- ing impatient he waived his hand to the marks- men to do their duty His sister happening to look out and see him, with a loud shriek darted between him and the guns, declaring herself to be the murderer. The chief raised his finger, the gunners lowered their pieces ; he then inquired of Brave who he was, and who was the murderer. Brave replied : "I am a pale face by birtli, and an Ir.dlan by life; this girl has rashly shot one of your men, she is my sister, and I offer my life for hers." "Where your camp," replied the chief, "and who your people ?" " My camp," said Brave, " is on the mountain , of hickories; my people the Tuscarora. But this has nothing to do with " blood for blood," " let vengeance be paid." "Were you," said the chief, " in the battle of ^ streams?" " I was." "Did you see a pale face save the life of an .* Indian?" "I did the deed myself" "That Indian is the one wliom your sister lias killed ; as you offer * blood for blood,' and saved his life, you an- free." Brave and the Indians smoked' the pipes of peace; and during their conversation, the clifer informed Brave that his (Brave's) tribe had b(night a captive white girl, and that the girl had affirmed that she had a brother living with the Indians. Brave having arranged all matters, hastened home to investigate" the report about the white captive ; he imagined there must be some mistake, but still he was certain the report must be true. . Arriving at the camp of his tribe, he found k' beautiful young lady who said her name was Gatlin, and that she had been carried by a party of Indians' 3S MABY BARKER. from Pennsylvania. Brave knew that a white man by thd name of Gatliu was in the tribe at the great Indian Springs near Deep River ; filled with compassion for the disconsolate condition of the young lady, Brave l-esolved to visit the Spring camp^ and inform Gatlin that his sister was at Hickory mountain. Early in the morning he set out, and arrived at the Springs in the afternoon. He was received with great courtesy by the old chief Ilidavj and presented with pipes and food. Brave was astonished at the extent of the village. The great Springs were in a deep, broad valley that terminated in Millstone creek ; on each slope of this valley were innumerable tents arranged in regular order ; on a steep bluff in the immediate vicinity of the fountam, stood the grand tent of the chief To the east opened an immense plain variegated with small rolling hills upon which a vast number of ponies were feeding. While Brave was admiring this magnificent village, his atten- tion was arrested by a sweet strain of rude music, and looking towards the creek, he saw a company of Indian damsels advancing and singing the un- noted carols of the forest. In their midst he de- scribed one of singular beauty ; she proved to be the chief's daughter. Her beautiful figure, full smooth forehead, long, black hair adorned w^ith feathers, her sparkling eyes shaded by a watching brow, and her deep orange complexion, all com- bined in singular harmony to finish one of nature's MARY BARKER. 39 loveliest pictures. By her acquaintance with Gatlin, she had learned a smarter of the English language, and was consequently able to impart some information. She told Brave that Gatlin was not good ; that he at first had asked her to marry him, a!id afterwards had confessed that he had a wife who ran off with a man called Barker ; that a few da3's ago he had discovered that she was living but a few miles from the camp, and that with a few warriors he was then gone to take her away from Barker ; that he would be back in a few hours with her. CHAPTER VI. Mary Barker was not only virtuous and sensible, but she was a woman of the most determmed cour- age, and at the same time of the greatest prudence : she was a pure Quaker, a real Christian and a de- voted wife. No combination of dithculties could unnerve her energy ; no chicanery could throw her off her guard ; no wary foe could deceive her by false alarms. When Gatlin, as detailed in chap- ter fourth, told her she would never see her family again, she saw at a flash the whole maneuvre. Her first thought was to refuse to advance further, ,40 MARY BAKKEB. ■*• and to reproach the wretch for his villainy ; pru- dence whispered that such a com se would be foll}^ that her safer way would be to admit as far as honor would allow. She consequently made no reply, but moved onward with as firm a step as possible. After moving on at a brisk walk tor near an hour, Gatlin motioned to the Indians to go on, and stepping before Mary, said " HopP " Tell me now whether you are willing to pass as ray wife in all respects; or would you rather suffer my pleasure first and then try the tortures of an Indian victim ? I will give you five minutes to think ; and I warn you neither let backwardness nor presumption shape your answer ; your life de- pends upon the resolve of this moment." " I want no time to consider," replied Mary, " I am with an old acquaintance, an honest man, one whom my father has befriended, one who once respected me, and one in whom I had all confi- dence. I know thou art in one of thy old playful moods, and not at all in earnest." "You play the game well," returned Gatlin, " but you cannot get me on that hook. Those ten- der cords upon which you think to play, have long since been destroyed by the monster revenge. No motive can or will influence me but my own will. I once asked you to have mercy upon a de- voted lover ; you turned a deaf ear ; 3^ou are now in my power, and I shall yield no entreaties." " But I rely upon thy honor as a man, and ■ ^ '^ MAEY BAEKEK. 41 *' Sing me no such Psalms ; take your choice quicklj." *' But I came at tlie call of my sister, wait at least till I see her safe." " Your sister the d ; she is not within fi?e hundred miles of this country. That letter was written by my own hand. I say again choose quickly." "But would thee deceive an honest " ^ "Stop your suasions, and choose life or death, 1 say." '^Priend Gatlin, I am in thy power, for I per- ceive I have no friend near except my Father in heaven. If thee is disposed to harm me, and break the bruised reed, I am unable to prevent it ; but if, as thee says, I have a choice, I make free to tell thee that I will never pass as thy wife while life lasts. I have nothing against thee nor any one else, but I am not thy wife, nor will I say that I am. Thou may burn me, torture me, kill me with all thy malignant cruelty ; I have no fear of these things, and only now ask thee to remain true to thy promise, that I may have my choice." Gatlin had not expected this firmness; therefore murmuring out something indistinctly, he bid her follow him, and led the way rapidly towards the (^amp. Mary was conducted to a large, well furn- ished tent or wigwam ; in it she found som-e im- plements of civilized life, and some things that (leeply touclied \\^r heart with painful recollections 4^ MART BABKEK. of home. Gatlin bid her be seated on a finely or- namented wicker chair, offered her water from a curiously carved goblet, and proffered her the per- fumed calumet. In a few minutes two Indian dam- sels, with the royal feather in their long flowing hair, and beautiful scarfs pendent from their shoul- ders, entered, bearing the great Indian waiter, in wdiich were the well cooked products ot'earth, forest and stream. They seated themselves in front of Mary, holding the waiter in their laps ; they tried every imaginable means to induce he£.to eat, but in vain. Gatlin approached and prefaced his request by saying " My Dear." Mary suffered him to pro- ceed no further; it was simply the eyes of a mild, amiable woman that silenced him ; but from those eyes darted rebuke and power before which a reck- less villain quailed. The warriors in front of the wigwam stepped suddenly aside, and a tall young chief entered carrying in one hand a huge toma- hawk, in the other a long staff, upon which was a tuft of feathers ; having spoken a few words to Gatlin, both retired, leaving Mary and the young squaws in the tent, and several warriors in front and around. From the deep roaring of something like a great fire, the hum of voices, the heavy tramp of men, the stealthy word of command that imme- diately followed the departure of Gatlin and the chief, Mary became sensible that something un- usual was at hand. In al)f>iu. fifteen minutes a richly dressed young squaw entered the wigwam, MARY BARKEB. 4:9 and, to Mary's great surprise, spoke "^ery good English. Without hesitation she informed Mary that Gatlin had entered the death belt against her in the council of chiefs ; that they were kindling tho fire, and that in a short time she must die. Mary with great composure motioned her to a seat, and then told her that she was not Gatlin's -wife and that her own husband and children were not far away. She told the damsel all the circumstances, and asked her to intercede with the chief, that the white settlers might be sent for. The conversation lasted so long that Gallin became impatient, and entered the tent in a rage \ aa he approached Mar3% the Indian girl stepped before him and drew her linger across her forehead. He stopped, turn- ed white as cloth, motioned the damsel aside, and was about to accompany his command with force : Yelna — for tliat was the girl's name — drew from her bosom a whistle, and put it to her mouth as if to sound an alaini. CHAPTER VII. AVe left Mary Barker in the wigwam with Gat- lin and Velna. Jn^t as the damsel was about to give the alarm to repel the insolence of Gatlin, ^i MARY BAEKEK. Mary learned the meaningofthe uproar that reign- ed without ; for the far-sonnding warwhoop of the red man rang over hill and dale. Gatliii darted from the tent, and Yelna motioning Mary to a place of concealment behind a couch of skins, fol- lowed him. A hostile tribe from the west side of the pilot mountain, had approached so near, be- fore the sentinel of the Springs had perceived them, that tlie old chief had barely time to call his warriors to ranks before the charo-e was made. The onset was like the bursting of a volcano ; the discharge of rifles, of which most ot the Indians at that time had a small supply ; the tvfang of the deadly bow, tlie whiz of the death-dealing toma- hawk, and the incessant yell of the attacking par- ty, were truly terrific. Mary could perceive that the spring party was driven back beyond the great tent; the bright flaming of a wigwam showed :many warriors lifeless upon the ground ; every mo- inent «he expected the one in which she v/as con- sccaled would be fired. The advancing foe was at the very entrance, when opening the back part }n order to fly, she discovered a white man, unknown to her ^nd of powerful form, advance with a chosen band, and with ten fold fury tlie combatants fought and fell on all sides. Soon the whole spring tribe rallied and advanced to sustain .the daring white. The assaulting tribe were in turn driven back, and as the sounds of strife became more and more dis- tant, an aged white man, his snowy lacks resting Maky barker. .4:5 tipon his shoulders, and his beard equal to that of Abraham's, entered the wigwam from the rear. Mary was about to speak, but instantly pressing his finger npon his lip as a token of silence, and bending till his beard rested upon her head, he said in a low voice, *' My daughter, fear not, move not, speak ni)t, but folluw the one that presents thee this toker," holding out at the same time a curiously formed stall. He quickly departed, leav- ing Mary in a situation compounded of firmness, fear, and hope. In less than an hour, she heard the sounds of victory; the • warriors returned in great joy ; a grand can;p fire was kindled around which the Indians collected to count their scalps and pass sentence upon the only cap'ive they had been able to take. lie was a large handsome war- rior, in the full dress of a chief, and bore himself cs proudly as he would have done in the midst of his own tribe. His condemnation was speedily passed, and with the pipe in his mouth, he seated himself npon the j)ile of brushwood, and calmly awaited his fate. In the meantime Brave, for he was the valiant white champion, was pleading with the council ; his pleading, however, seemed to be in vain, for a torch bearer drew near to fire the pile. Brave instantly seated, himself upon the wood be«ide the condemned, and said in a clear and strong voice : "I call upon the great Spii-it of the red man t(j bear witness, that the law of war has been violated. 46 MARY BARKER. When I was about to die in the place of my sister, this chief saved my life because I had done one of his people a kindness. I have to night conquered this same chief in fair fight ; 1 spared him, because he spared me. Brave will never be guilty of in- gratitude; no, never; if this warrior dies, he will die with him ; we have been fair foes ; nov/ we are firm friends ; we will burn together. But proud chief of the Springs, remember, that when you fled an hour ago, I met, and stopped the raging foe ; I now die in the bond of friendship ; bring on thefirey The fireman stepped forward to perform his duty; but the dark maiden, Yelna, intercepted him and forbade his farther progress ; she beck- oned the old chief to her, and falling upon her knees, implored him to spare both the chief and Brave. For some time he seemed unrelenting, but finally granted the boon. At this juncture, Gatlin came forth in a frenzy of passion, and de- manded that the decree of the council should be obeyed ; the stern warriors murmured their assent, and soon a menacing shout invoked immediate vengeance. As they were again applying the cords to the captives, Velna, who had retired to her wigwam rushed into the throng, and drawing from her girdle a well polished steel dagger, de- clared she would defend Brave and tlie chief with her life, and if they prevailed by force, she would end her life with her own poniard. She demanded tliat Gatlin sbonld come forth into her presence ; liaving come, she ordered liim to l>e seated. With tlie dignity of a queen and a bearing seen only in the daughters of the forest, she spake as follows : " Fox in council, wolf in peace, and dog in war ! why have yon dared to plead against my request ? Your htnds are stained with blood and your lieart is filled with poison ; too mean to live with the meanest of white men, too cowardly to meet a foe in fair combat, and too selfish to feel for others, you have come among the red men, to stab in the dark, to waylay your enemies, betray your friends, and to defile the daughters of Tuscarora. The daughter of a chief needs no defence hut lier fa- ther, when her own person is assailed ; the dam- sels of Deep Spring practice neither war nor the chase; and if yon are a warrior good and true, the Great Spirit would be angry if I should speak against you. But you are not a warrior, the Great Spirit tells me so; I feel power in my heart; though but a weak maiden, I feel myself like a great mountain rock defying the roaring storm. I stand here in defense of two noble warriors, and before the bright fire burns reund them, my arm shall fall pnd my heart shall be still ; if they this day fly from tlie burning stake to the tall groves and broad streams of the good, I shall go with them. Remember forever, that Yelna of Deep Spring lives for the good and dies for the inno- cent." When she ceased, a loud yell of assent 4:S MARY BAKKIOR. rang over the hills, and with Bvawe, the chief and her father, she returned to tlie tent. Mary Barker, from her wigwam, watched these proceedings with an intensity ot* feeling indescri- bable; but when she saw the noble Yelna prevail, a gleam of hope illumined her own breast. She could but think the hasty visit of the old man betokened some good ; Velna was certainly her friend, and Gatlin, her direst foe, was publicly thwarted. All w^as now still in the camp, but Mary was unable to sleep; she feared nothing so much as the appearance of Gatlin. Silently and softly a young Indian chief entered the wigwam, and held towards Mary a staff, wdiich she at once recognized as the ])ledge ot the old man. Mary hesitated not ; she arose and followed her guide. Tonlin, for that was his name, placed his linger upon his mouth and pointed to sometliing a little off, which Mary perceived to bo a sentineh He then drew from his blanket the robe, sandals and head dress of Yelna, and by signs requested Mary to put them on.-^ She did as intimated. Tonlin held out his arm that she should lean upon it. Thus going forth as the son and daughter of the old chief, they approached the sentinel, who let them pass without a challenge. Hastening off in a nortliwest direction, and crossing the creek on a trail-log, Tonlin assisted Mary with all the minute attention and delicacy of a well bred geLtlcman Tliey had proceeded about «'. MARY BARKF.K. 49 a mile, ^vhcii^^uarj porccive;] a niiiti shmcliiig at a little distiiTicc i'mm the pnth along wlvich they were moving'; :i nearer approach showed tlio stranger to be a white man, and apparently the man was Gatlin. Mar3^'s last ray of Iiope fled; her bright anticipatinns were doiidcd over; she doubted not that the Indian who was condnctii'g. her was an accomplice of her enemy, and that a dark purpose was in contemplation. She tlionght of home, of a hind h.n<:band and of her own dear children ; she had nearly fillcn with a desponciing heart, when Tonlin, leaving her side for a moment, approached the stranger, and speaking in a low voice a few words, lie returned, and supporting Mary with much care, pursued the silent journey. Gaining the high ridge that stands as a barrier between the river and creek, the view was magnificent. A long plopirir ^""dlin'd extended ti^wards the river, the dec. iied showed itself as far to the iioriliwe-t an! southwest i-s the eye could reach ; opposite and tar off, some bold hills gave a graceful outline to ilie d'st.-.nt view. The deep roaring of the river as it ^^pcd on v/ard ovei' light cascades, the low snappibh howl of the wolf, an oc- casional scream of the panther, and the ominous hoot of the owl, all conspired in connexion with recent oc,carrcnce3, to impress Mary with sensa- tions of approaching danger. But when was an innocent wr ':nown to despair? The modest, hariiiu-- n; ;-:i may pt--^^-^ rt the rust- qO MARY BARKER. ., ling of a leaf, but let real clanger arise, and lici' spirit is the last to quake. As Mar)^ lifted her eyes from the impressively grand bnt threatening world below to the silent moon, as she through the pure blue vault of heaven sailed amid the twinkling stars, her courage revived, and she moved on with a firmer step. They had not advanced far into the lowlands before her Indian guide appeared ap- prehensive of danger ; he moved stealthily along with great caution ; and motioned Mary to walk close behind him : gaining the shadow of a large tree, Tonlin exchanged robe and head dress with her, so that she appeared to be the Indian and he the lady. She could by no means divine the ob- ject of this maneuvre, yet she faltered not ; though some danger evidently threatened, onward went this brave woman, her guide following close m the rear. They had not advanced more than a few hundred yards, ere a keen shrill whistle sounded behind them ; Tonlin sprang forward, beckoned lier to stop, and before he could unsling his toma- hawk and raise his rifle, two powerful Indians sprang upon hini, and a powerful voice, in good . English, cried : '' Mary, run backwards for your life !" But before she could even start, a tall form swepfe by her, and joining in the tremendous struggle; which Tonlin still maintained, soon overpowered and slew the two Indians. The unknown cham- pion then said to Mary, "Sit still, good mother^ M.iKY BARKER. 51 till we return." He and Tonlin then took np the lifeless forms of their foes, and departed in the direction of the river. Mrs. Barker, thus left alone, she knew not Avhere and by whom surrounded, re- mained, in silence ; she knew not wdiether the conqnerors were friends or enemies; she knew not but that eternal dishonor or instant death awaited her; bnt with calm confidence she resigned her safety to " Him who is able to save to the utter- most." Soon Tonlin returned unattended by his comrade, and exchanging dress with her again, conducted her towards the river. They soon ar- rived at the river, at a point where the stream inaking a bold sweep westward, forms a large bend ; they stood for a moment upon a bold pro- montory of rock that projecting far into the river, perhaps originally caused the curve ; then descend- ing by a pathway on the south side of the ledge, they walked round its base upon huge fragments of stone untirthey arrived at what seemed to be the mouth of a cave; advancing in total darkness they gro{)ed along until Tonlin tapped something sounding like a door. Yery soon the rude door opened, and v/hat was Mary's surprise to see with- in a considerable room or vault illuminated by a bark-wick candle, and near the entrance the white- haired old man, who visited her in the wigwam! On a rough table of stone lay a Bible with two or three other books ; on a projecting crag hung a broad-brimmed Quaker hat; on the opposite side, c2 ■ 52 MARY BARKEIi. ^ near soir.etiiing like a fii c-i>:uL-v;, vv^.:; c- \ w u ui liu cc^ cookiHg-utenyili? of Iiitliaii fav'^hioii. The (;]u iiiUM,. a band on each of then- heads, said^/' My chiMien,. I feared you were slain. I knew" an enemy beiset your ^^ay; and I sent my laithiui Suniibh to give yon timely notice." Tonlin replied in Indian, so that Mary knew not what he said ; but tears streamed down the old man's wrinkled face as he i-eplied: "Tonlin, thou art a good boy, but ma}' be thj resistance has gone too far. May an Aliwise Be- ing bloes thee and guide thy steps." Tonlin, taking the dress of his siste-r, the noble' Yelna, departed, and meeting with Suniish, who waited his return, the be children, GiP.tlin sent an Indian with a fire brand on a long ])ole, thinking thereby to draw the at- tention of the settlers, while he should execute his purpose, anvl at the same time to still further im- prcrs tiicni in the belief of supernatural agency. Perceiving Ids purpose liktdy to fail, one of his foiiowers sioaUhily entered the house and carried c3 54: MARY BARKER. off one cliild in its sleep. The child was carried to the camp, and lest it might escape also, he kept it in his own tent. Yelna no sooner perceived this than she determined to liberate the little cap- tive in spite of precaution : she was aware, how- ever, that it must be done secretly or else her purpose w^ould fail. Approaching it one day "when Gatlin with the rest v^as gone to the chase, she asked the little innocent if it knew where its father and mother were. It answered : " Bnggar car- ried mother away, and father's at home !" " Do yon want, to see them ?" asked Yelna, " Yes, bnt I can't," answered the chil d " Do you like Gatlin ?" inquired Yelna. "JSTo; he hurts me," replied the harmless little creature, the tears beginning to roll down its cheeks. Yelna wiped her own eyes, and kissing the child. told it she would carry it to its mother. She told it to keep awake that night, and she would come to the wigwam after a good while, and thump with her linger ; if Gatlin was awake, which it could tell by shaking him, it must neither speak nor move, but if he was asleep, to get up easy and come out without speaking Late at night, Yelna approached the tent in breathless silence and thumped with her finger ; then waited in an anguish of uncertainty. In a minute or two, the fair haired child came forth and stood before her : she caught it up in her arms and MARY BARKEK. 55 hastening away, gave it to Brave and Tonlin who carried it to the old man and its mother in Aaron's cave. Gatlin did not miss the child till morning, nor did he then speak concerning the loss ; he suspi- cioned intrigue of some kind ; he believed that some one in camp was the agent by whom his designs were frnstrated ; but who that person could be, he could by no means divine, unless Brave was the one. This belief was soon lixed, and by the reserved, cold intercourse he maintained with the white warrior. Yelna readily perceived the com- plexion of his thoughts. Without delay, she taxed her ready and active mind to learn his intentions, in order to frustrate them ; by the agency of her brother, she learned from one of Gatlin's band, that murder was intended, and that the chase on the following day was the time appointed. She forthwith advised Brave to depart, justly conceiv- ing that his services could no more be available, as he would be too closely watched. The white chief obeying her admonitions, announced his in- tention to depart on the next day ; and in less than an hour, Velna learned from her faithful spy, that Gatlin had gone out with a chosen band, with in- tention to waylay and kill Brave. Velna informed the chief of his danger, and advised him to take a circuitous rout, which he did, not through fear so much as policy. Gatlin again frustrated, deter- mined to carry on his designs against the Barker c4 i 56 MARY BARKER. family to the uttermost ; he tasked every resource of vengeance. Pie accordingly made powder to blow up the wood pile ; he made a most terrific spectre of skins, which monstrous fabrication three Indians could carry ; he then shaped a block of wood and armed it with claws in order to make a track unlike any living creature. For the purpose of torcing credence to his fiend- ish appearances, he wrote the letter purporting to be from Mary in heaven. Then placing the powder under the wood, and having all other mat- ters properly arranged, he played the part spoken of in a former number. The children which were seized at the door, were carried to the camp as the former one, and placed in Gatlin's wigwam. These were taken from him and carried to Aaron's cave, in the same manner as the first had been. Gatlin's wrath was now at the highest ; he determined therefore to seize Barker himself, carry him to the camp and have him executed immediately. With three chosen companions, he went to John Barker's a little after night, and peeped through a crack to see with what the lonely inmate might occupy himself Barker at the time was reading from a large Bible, with a loud tone in the manner of the Friends ; he finished the chapter and leaning his head upon his hands, indulged the following solilo- quy : " Once around this hearthstone I was happy ; my Mary and my children were with me ; they loved me and soothed my sorrow ; they pitied my MARY BARKER 67 - distress and cared for my sufferings. The Lord ' hath sorely cliastened me ; he hath taken from me all earthly comfort; I have surely drunk the enp of sorrow, and mournitig shall finish my days. If I have knowingly injured any man, I am ready to restore fourfold. May the Lord's will be done." " Yon are a base scoundrel and liar," said Gatlin, rushing into the house with his comrades ; " I am come to drag you to justice." " Thee speaks harshly," returned Barker nothing daunted : " Surely I see W. Gatlin, an old friend of mine, and right glad am I to find in this forsaken house, one true as thee is. Thyself and these, I suppose thy guides, I bid welcome, and hope we may have mutual comfort." " You are a bigoted hypocrite," returned Gatlin ; you are a liar, thief and ranting fool ; to night you die ! seize him ! my friends." Barker waved thera off with his hands, and with a look such as comes only from a good man's eye, then meekly said : *' These charges I understand not ; thee knows, W. Gatlin, I have always been an honest man; I have neither touched the person nor goods of any man, and in the manner of my sect, T have tried to servo my maker." '* Your sect, the ! sneered Gatlin ; warriors, I say seize him." The rude sons of the .forest still hesitated; the man was so meek, so cairn and so peaceful in the panoply of virtue, that they refused to touch him. c5 68 MARY BARKER. Gatlin, stamping violently on the floor, ordered them to cut him to pieces, and as they moved not at this command, he raised his own tomahawk, hat ere it flew to perform the bloody deed, some one caught his arm saying " hold, not so yet ;" and the noble Tonlin was in the midst. Gatlin glared upon him with the fury of a tiger ; and with a husky voice said : " Warrior, what do you here, why have you fol- lowed me, and how dare you stop my arm ?" By this time Tonlin stood by the side of Barker and boldly replied : "The chief's son goes where he will, and com- mands Gatlin at this time to do our white brother no hurt." .m tun v " Proud strippling," retorted his opponent, "you crow not over me; instantly leave this' place or you die as you deserve !" " I leave not," said Tonlin, " till we all go toge- ther, and think not to assume too much authority." Gatlin stepped back and whispered to his com- rades ; Tonlin perceived they were about to attack him, but before they had time to advance, he drew from his blanket the great war-head dress of his father and placed it upon his head ; before this well known emblem of authority, the comrades of Gatlin recoiled, and perceiving the odds would be against him, he smothered his resentment, and de- manded that Barker should be led before the war council. 54 ART BARKER. 59 Tonlin whispered a word to Barker, and imme- diately all of them started to the springs. Accord- ing to usage and by command of Gatlin, Barker's arms were bound with a bark-rope, passing from one elbow to the other. The river was to be crossed in a canoe at a point where the water was very deep ; as they were stepping into the unsteady trotigli, for Indian canoes wero hollowed trees, Tonlin, who warily watched every motion, saw Gatlin and his comrades unsiing their arms and unite their blankets. He was aware that this ma- neuvre boded some evil, but ihe knew not what ; he therefore seated himself by the side of Barker, at the same time slipping his hunting knife from his belt ; he held it in his right hand. About the middle of the stream, the steersman dropped from the gtern of the canoe into the wate.r, then seizing the side as if endeavoring to climb in, he quickly overset it. Tonlin at once saw that the intention was to drown himself and Barker ; as they struck the water, by a skilful thrust with his knife, he cut the chord that bound Barker's arms, and both, be- ing good swimmers, reached the bank before either Gatlin or his crew could overtake them. When the wretch came to land he apologised with appa- rent sincerity for the accident, and threatened the steersman with punishment ; Tonlin affected to believe it an accident and accepted the apology. So soon as they reached the camp, a council was called, and as Barker was accused of the greatest c6 60 MARY BARKER. crimes, and no one plead his cause or bore testi- mony in his favor, he was qnickly condemned, GaUin demaded that he should be burned in an hour, and after some hesitation the council assented. Barker was about to speak, when Yelna came forth and motioned him to silence ; she was arrayed in the full dress of a chief's daughter, and bore in ber hand the wand of peace ; mildly but tirmly she spake : ''Great chief, and brave warriors; the white man has always given bad counsel ; well you know that no man must die according to the law of our fathers, till another moon. The great spirit looks upon the pale face as well as the red man, and will not allow noble chiefs to do wrong. -Six suns must pass by, before our white brother dies." The council confessed that Yelna had spoken truth, and deferred the execution for six days ; meanwhile Tonlin pledged his wampum belt for the safe custody of Barker. We leave John Barker till the day of trial, and return to Aaron's cave. On the night aforesaid, when Tonlin had retired, the old man seated him- self by the side of Mary, and with much kindness "Friend, I pity thy distress and feel for thy sor- rows 'y tell me who thou art, and how thou came to the springs." "My name is Mary Barker," she replied, "the wife of John Barker; we came from Pennsylvania MARY BARKER. CI and settled somewhere in this country, and by de- ceit one W, Gatlin took me to the springs." "What was thy father's name?" inquired he with tears in his eyes, and hesitancy in his voice. Mary answered ; " his name was Aaron Moffitt." '* Didst tliou leave him alive?" inquired the venerable man. *' No," rieplied Mary, " many years ago, wicked men conspired against him because lie was a good man, and coming to our house in the night, tliey tore him from his bed, carried him off and killed him." The old man after a moment replied ; " Wouldst thou know thy father, though changed by age and affection ?" *'I should know him anywhere," replied Mary, " a plain scar on liis face, if nothing else would be proof enough." " I am," answered he, " Aaron Moffit thy father," at the same time exhibiting the scar on his face. We make no attempt to describe their recognition, or the conflicting emotions that followed, they may be better imagined than described. The next day Moffitt narrated to his daughter his adventures after he was dragged from his house : " My enemies intended to kill me not a mile from home, but before tliey j^roceeded that far, they met a band of Indians who bought me for a war victim at an approaching festival. For three days, I was compelled to walk at a rapid rate between 62 MARY BARKER. two stout warriors ; on the fourth, we arrived at the great camp, when I was eyed with no less curiosity than pleasure. When the great day ar- rived, and all the tribes had assembled to honor the great spirit of the Western Avaters, according to usage, if any captive was in their possession, he must first be burned. As I was the only one, I was fixed to a stake and the brusb'i wood piled around me ; then came forw^ard the oldest chief to pronounce my doom." " White man, said he, you came in power from the rising sun ; you off'ered peace to our chiefs, .arms to our warriors and bread to our children ; •none of these have you done. You told us lies, cheated us in trade, sold us fire-water, and dug up the tree of peace. The thundering ot the great spirit, the roaring of streams, the howling storms, groaning trees, and rumbling earth, all call with a deep and revengeful wrath for your destruction." I knew pleading was in vain, and said nothing ; but as the chief turned away, he discovered this scar on my face, and asked how it came there. 1 told him I received it in defending an Indian at Tolland, and by that means saved his life. " Ugh — sogger," murmured the chief, ' J know you well, your name is Mofia ; you saved .the life of my son." He then ordered ine to be unbound, and lead to his w^igwam, and thus you perceive, my child, this good deed long sinoe done, saved me from a horrid 4eath and the bloody hand of murderers. After MARY BAKKER. 63 supplying ray wants, and allowing me time to refresh myself, be dismissed me to seek my friends and home. But alas ! I knew what awaited me should I ever return ; I therefore traveled onward, 1 knew not where. In the midst of my uncertain wanderings, I chanced upon one occasion to be standing near this very place when I saw two In- dian children, a boy and a girl, attempting to cross the river ; when they were near the middle of the stream, the little girl slipped from a rock and fell into a strong current; the boy fearlessly leaped into the foaming waters to rescue his sister, and after making eftbrts worthy of a man, he raised her head above the waters, but he was unable to ad- vance or even to maintain his position. At the minute they were both sinking, a powerful wolf dog that had accompanied them in their expedi- tion, but had loitered behind, plunged in after them ; before he could reach them, they had both sunk, but instantly diving, he brought them up and started to the bank. The children were too much exhausted to hold together, and the noble dog was unable to grasp them both ; the little girl floated away from him^varid uttering a loud howl of despair, he started to the bank with the boy ; perceiving that the dog would safely land the boy, and knowing that the girl would speedily drown, I plunired in after her at the peril of my own life. Though aged and feeble, I rescued her, and after hours of nursini^ in this very cave, I so restored 64: MARY BARKER. them that they were able to go home. That boy was Tonhn and that gh'l was Velna. From that day to this, I have remained here, unknown to all, except these two children, Sunfish and the old chief; they have supplied me with food and I have taught them much of our language. Last night when Yelna heard thy report she believed it, and forthwith sent Tonlin to inform me of thy presence in the camp, requesting me to come and give thee such assurance, that thou mighest with- out fear accompany Tonlin, when he should find occasion to lead thee forth. But thy deliverance was well nigh frustrated by the attack of this pow- erful tribe, and had it not been for the white chief, Brave, our tribe would have been conqueied. He had already retired from the ranks when I met him ; he was surprised to see me, but when I told him that a suffering white woman was in the second tent, and that Gatlin had brought on this attack in order that the Spring tribe might be con- quered, so that he could then obtain Yelna, the chiefs daughter ; that noble chief waited 'for no more, but with a resolution and power never sur- passed by mortal man, he drove every thing before him. When I came back, I placed Sunfish out to watch, and in less than an hour, he returned and informed me, that two Indians came down to the river, and after remaining awhile went back. Having no doubt these were spies sent out by MART BARKER. 65 Gatlin, for I thought he saw me when I was at the camp, I sent Siinlish round in another way to in- form Tonlin and Brave that spies were out. The man you saw on the hill was Brave, who came before yon to reconnoitre ; it was he that gave the whistle and cried out for you to run back." Mary and her Father remained for some time in this cave supported by Tonlin and Velna, and as the children were successively stolen away from Gatlin they were sent to their mother and grand- father. Yelna determined that Gatlin should be condemned in public council, and to effect this much maneuvering was necessary, as well as a great deal of caution. Gatlin constantly atiirmed, that Mary was his wife, and that Barker had now stolen her a second time and married her ; he also declared that a young chief who had been missing for some time, was slain by the same means. The time fixed upon for overwhelming Gatlin, was that on which Barker was to be burned ; one difficulty Btill remained, and that was to prove to the great council, that Mary was really John Barker's wife, and as yet they had no means to effect this. Finally Mary thought of young Spinks, who knew the whole matter, and Tonlin undertook to find him out and bring him to Aaron's cave. This he effect- ed after several days' watching, and then by a messenger informed Brave at Hickory mountain, of the time. One important point still remained to complete the arrangements, viz ; to obtain proof 6Q MAKY BARKER. from the Pilot tribe, that Gatlin instigated that assault. The noble Tonlin took that mission upon himself, and with infinite, difficulty, succeeded in bringing over a chief, whose assertion could not be doubted. On the day appointed for Barker's execution great preparations were made, according to Indian custom, for display and torture ; a high stake was erected in the midst of the camp, and a large ring of brushwood so formed, that the victim might die by the heat rather than the flames. Barker was led forth in the midst of yells, hisses and every kind of insult, and slowly but firmly took his posi- tion of death ; after he was fastened, Gatlin asked and obtained permission to take ofi" his lower limbs joint by joint to the knee. As he stepped forth to accomplish his bloody- purpose, Velna appeared, unlike all other Indian maidens, arrayed in a most superbly ornamented dress, with the wedding feather in her hair; every one was mute with astonishment, while many look- ed with evident discontent. Bowing to the grand council, she called upon Gatlin to stop ; but deter- mined to execute his design he heeded her not, and had already taken Barker by the foot. Yelna drew from her robe the great eagle signal, rushing forward with twenty warriors at her side, (for that number was compelled to follow the noble virgin upon the appearance of that signal,) she arrested MART BARKER. ^ Gatlin's hand, and bid him stand back. Maddened to desperation, he was about to slay even the chikf's daughter, but the warriors closed aronnd her crying, '* wans a Yklna " — spare Yelna. She then appealed to the council, and moving respect- fnlly forward, declared herseif able to prove that Barker had not killed Mary and the children. Gat- lin defied her to do it. Raisinor her whistle, she gave a sharp call, and in a few minutes Mary ap- peared with her children. The Indians were con- founded, and Gatlin frothed with rage. The conn- cil waited till the affecting ecene of the family meeting had somewhat snbsidtid, and then de- manded what more Velna had to say. She then declared that Barker did not steal them away ; this Gatlin again defied her to prove. Yelna and Ton- lin affirmed the part they had acted, but Gatlin refused for their evidence to be taken ; another shrill call and Brave .with twelve powerful war- riors, came up and affiimed upon his wampum belt, that he had assisted. The old chief of the Sprmgs declared no warrior must dare question the word of Brave. Yelna then offered to prove that Mary was Barker's wife, and by another whistle called np Spinks and Aaron ]\[ofiitt, the gray old man. Their evidence settled that question beyond all dis- pute. Yelna next declared that Gatlin had insti- gated the assault made by the Pilot tribe to prove which, the chief of that tribe was produced. Ton- 68 MARY BARKER. lin and Yelna related all their proceedingg, while the whole assembly listened in astonishment. The chief was greatly affected and asked his council how he ought to proceed ; all the warriors answer- ed that the wh*»le affair should be disposed of as Velna desired. " Then," said Yelna, ^' let us feast Barker and all his family for six suns, and afterwards send them home with the belt of peace, and once every moon I will go to see them ; Gatlin I leave to my war- riors ; as for Brave my father will honor him." Instantly the warriors bound Gatlin, and tied him at the stake he had prepared for Barker ; the chief then turning to Brave, bid him ask any favor and it should be granted. "I ask a great boon," resjDonded the white chief, "in a few words." '' Give me the noble Velna." The old chief seemed a little confused, and asked Brave for what reason, he demanded a chief's daughter. "Because," said Brave, "I am a chief; I love Yelna and Yelna loves me ; I saved her life on that night of the Pilot charge, and I absisted her in saving a good family." " The great Spirit wills Brave to be my son," responded the chief, and joined their hands. When the week of feasting was over, the Barker family, Spinks, and the venerable Aaron MofUtt, were escorted to the white settlement, and a treaty made which was never broken. Once per month. MARY BARKER. 69 liraye and Yelna visited Barker, nor was this Irieiidly interrourse ever bn^ken off while the par- ties lived. Many years after a son of Brave re- turned from the far west to see the descendants of his father's friends, and a worthy son was he of his noMe siro. BOOKS FOR SALE BY BRANSOX & FARRAR. 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