It mattered little to the Indian whether king or congress governed the colonies, but his aid was required by the mother country, and in spite of the indignant protest of the great Earl Chatham in the House of Lords, the cruel and barbarous policy of employing him was adopted. Once more the tomahawk and scalping-knife were let loose upon the defenceless frontier settlements.

Congress made every effort to conciliate the tribes and secure their neutrality. They were visited by active and influential agents, who made use of every possible means for this object. They could effect but little. The Oneidas, the Tuscaroras, and the Mohicans, were the only tribes whose friendship they succeeded in retaining.

Fort Niagara, where Sir John Johnson, the son and successor of Sir William, had established the head-quarters of the Indian department, was, from its central location, the most eligible point from which the western tribes, the Chippewas, Ottawas, and others, could be effectively employed against the Americans. This fortress, erected by Denonville where La Salle had originally built a palisade, stood on the narrow promontory round which the Niagara pours its waters into the lower lake. It commanded the portage between Ontario and Erie, and controlled the fur-trade of the West. It at once became the seat of the royal influence, where marauding, plundering, and scalping parties were organized, supplied, and equipped. Hither also were brought the prisoners to pass the terrible ordeal of the gauntlet, and here also was paid the reward for the scalps of the victims.

Though in to way connected with the American Revolution, the battle of Point Pleasant, occurring just before its commencement, demands attention as one of the most severe and closely contested engagements ever fought between the red and white races.

The beautiful Ohio valley had just been explored, the axe of the pioneer was beginning to be heard, and emigration was rapidly pouring into the inviting region west of the Alleghanies. But the fierce Shawnees maintained a deadly hostility to this advanced guard of civilization. Between this tribe and the Delawares and Mingoes there was an ancient and a close affinity. These tribes, unwilling to give up their best lands with out a struggle, were still further alienated from the white settlers by murders and other outrages perpetrated upon them by lawless white men. Twelve Indians had been killed and a number wounded, about forty miles above Wheeling, by a party of these led by Daniel Greathouse.

In the summer of 1774, Logan, whom these murders had turned from a fast friend to a deadly foe of the whites, came suddenly upon the Monongahela settlements, and retaliated upon them the slaughter of his family and friends.

This celebrated chief, though allied by marriage to the Shawnees, was by birth an Iroquois. Shikellimo, his father, was a Cayuga chief, residing at Shamokin, on the banks of the Susquehanna. Here Logan, whose Indian name was Tah-ga-yu-ta, was born about the year 1725. Physically and mentally he was a noble specimen of his race. He was brave, manly, generous, and high-minded. The white men began war upon him without provocation. Maddened by the barbarity of which he was the victim, he added scalp to scalp from the treacherous pale faces, until the number was thirteen, equaling that of the Indian victims. "Now," said the chief, "I am satisfied for the loss of my relations, and will sit still."

From June to September the most sanguinary scenes were enacted along the border. To put a stop to them, General Andrew Lewis, with one thousand one hundred Virginians, marched to the mouth of the Kenawha, where he was to join another division of the army under Lord Dunmore, Governor of Virginia. Here he found himself opposed by a large body of Delawares, Iroquois, Shawnees, and Wyandots, under their most noted chiefs (among whom was Logan), and led by the able and brave Shawnee chief, Cornstalk.

The presence of the Indians was discovered soon after sunrise, and Colonel Charles Lewis and Colonel Fleming were ordered to reconnoitre the ground where they were seen. This at once brought on an engagement. The Virginia riflemen occupied a triangular point of land between the right bank of the Kenawha and the left bank of the Ohio, accessible only from the rear. Like their opponents, the reconnoitring force sheltered itself behind trees, but the Indians were more than a match for them. The struggle was severe. Soon Colonel Lewis was mortally wounded, and his troops were broken and gave way. Colonel Fleming, who advanced along the shore of the Ohio, was severely wounded, but his men held their position until the reserve under Colonel Field reached the ground.

The Indians then slowly fell back, disputing the ground with the obstinacy of veterans till one o'clock, when they reached a strong position. They had taken the precaution to erect a rough breastwork of logs and brush, extending from river to river, behind which they took refuge, the Virginians being enclosed in the apex of the triangle in their front. Here both parties rested, keeping up a desultory fire along a front of a mile and a quarter. The Indian plan of attack was well conceived, for if they had been victorious not a Virginian could have escaped. Warriors had been stationed on both sides of the river to prevent any from escape by swimming.

Finally a flank attack by three companies under Isaac Shelby, afterwards the hero of King's Mountain, George Mathews, and John Stewart, who had succeeded in reaching unobserved a point in their rear, compelled the enemy to withdraw, and ended a contest which had lasted till sunset.

Neither party could justly claim the victory in this sanguinary battle. During its continuance the gigantic Cornstalk encouraged his warriors with the cry, "Be strong! be strong!" The Virginians had half their commissioned officers and fifty-two men killed. The Indian loss was said to have been two hundred and thirty-three, killed and wounded.

After the battle all the prominent Indian actors in the war except Logan presented themselves at Lord Dunmore's camp at the Chillicothe towns, on the Scioto, to treat for peace. Logan, from his retirement, sent to Dunmore by an interpreter the following well-known address, unsurpassed for its eloquence and pathos:

"I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of white men.' I had even thought to have lived with you but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women and children.

"There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many; I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!"

Logan was wrong in attributing the massacre to Cresap; it was the wretched work of men of a very different stamp.

Among the many anecdotes of Logan's kindness of heart and honorable dealing we select the following:

On one occasion he laid a wager for a trial of skill in marksmanship with a frontiersman, at a dollar a shot. Logan lost four or five shots with entire composure and suavity of manners. When the contest was over he brought from his lodge as many deerskins—then valued at a dollar each—as he had lost shots. The victor declined taking them, saying he was Logan's guest, and that the match had been merely a trial of skill and nerve, and not designed for gain. "No," said Logan, with dignity, "I wagered to make you do your best in shooting. My word is true. Had you lost, I should have taken your dollars; but as I have lost, you shall take my skins."

On another occasion he overheard a mother regretting the want of a pair of shoes for her little daughter, who was just beginning to walk. When he was ready to return to his wigwam, which was not far distant, Logan came and asked the mother to let him take the child with him. Confiding in his known character she consented, though with mingled feelings of trust and anxiety. This was in the morning, and the day wore away with many yearnings in the mother's heart at the long absence of her child. Just before sunset Logan reappeared, leading the little girl, who exhibited on her tiny feet a pair of beautifully wrought moccasins—the work of Logan's Lands.

For two years the Revolutionary War had been going on without much active participation on the part of the Indians. The campaign of 1777, which had for its object the cutting off New England from the other colonies, brought them to the front. At the beginning of August General Burgoyne had penetrated from Canada to the Hudson. His junction with Sir Henry Clinton, who held New York and the Hudson as far up as Peekskill, would have given to Great Britain the key to the military situation.

Burgoyne was proud of his management of the Indians, of whom he had detachments from seventeen tribes. On the 3rd of August they brought in twenty scalps and as many captives, and Burgoyne praised their activity. The Ottawas wished to return home, but on the 5th of August he took a pledge front all the warriors to stay through the campaign. After the lost battle of September 19th they melted away from him like snow beneath the summer sun. The murder of the beautiful Miss McCrea, the affianced bride of a British officer, by a party of Burgoyne's Indians, about this time, sent a thrill of horror throughout the civilized world.

Fort Stanwix, a frontier post at the head of the Mohawk River, the site of the flourishing village of Rome, New York, was the sole remaining barrier to the invader. It had been built to oppose the French in 1753, and was being repaired when a picked body of British, Canadians, and Indians, commanded by Colonel Barry St. Leger, a skilful and intelligent British officer, appeared before it. Its garrison consisted of seven hundred and fifty men, commanded by Colonel Gansevoort, a brave soldier who had accompanied Montgomery to Quebec. His lieutenant-colonel was Marinus Willett, who had earned a reputation in the French war twenty years before. St. Leger, too, had served in Canada, and had learned the habits of the Indians and their mode of warfare. He entertained no doubt that the garrison would surrender at discretion.

With St. Leger was Joseph Brant (Thayendanegea), chief of the Mohawks. He had been active in arraying the Six Nations on the side of King George, and only the Oneidas and Tuscaroras had refused to follow his lead.

Brant was now thirty-five years of age, tall, spare, and active—an ideal Indian—with the added advantages of a good English education and a training in the family of Sir William Johnson. He had recently been in London, where he was lionized, and while there had offered the services of the Six Nations to the King to help subdue his rebellions colonies. Brant's abilities were of a high order. He had been constantly rising in the esteem of his people, until he had attained the position of their ruler, and his influence over them was almost unlimited.

The Canadians and Loyalists were commanded by Sir John, the son of the distinguished Sir William Johnson, who had inherited his father's vast landed estates, but not his abilities. He held a commission as colonel in the British army, and one of his objects was to reclaim his confiscated estate and to resume his almost baronial sway.

"It was a calm and beautiful morning," says Schoolcraft, "when the enemy took up their line of march from Wood Creek. The intervening ground was an open plain of wide extent, most elevated towards its central and southern edge. Gansevoort's men were paraded on the ramparts, watching for the approach of the foe. Music was soon heard; the scarlet color of the British uniforms next showed itself. Their standards, taken from their cases that morning, were waving in the breeze. To many of Gansevoort's men who were newly enlisted the scene was novel. A few were veterans of the Old French War, some were mere lads. The Indians, spreading out on the flanks, gave the scene an air of picturesqueness not unmixed with terror, for their loud yells were heard above the British drum and bugle."

St. Leger's force, one thousand seven hundred strong, completely invested the fort, but his artillery could make no impression upon the sod-work of its walls. The garrison had little ammunition, but were determined to hold out to the last. The striped flag which had been hastily made, partly out of a camlet cloak, was duly displayed, and not a man quailed before the enemy.

Meantime the settlers in the Mohawk Valley, perceiving their danger, gathered at Fort Dayton, and under the lead of General Nicholas Herkimer, a brave old German, marched against the enemy. At Oriskany, ten miles from Fort Stanwix, this brave but undisciplined body of militia, neglecting to take proper precautions in the presence of a wily enemy, fell into a trap which Brant had skilfully laid for them. One thousand two hundred picked men, including all the Indians and most of Johnson's Tortes, lay in and around the ravines at Oriskany in the early morning.

Herkimer, who counselled a little delay in order that reinforcements might reach him, as he was to attack a force much larger than his own, was called a coward and a Tory. These taunts determined him to go forward. At ten o'clock his men were passing a deep ravine, through thick woods, when suddenly the forest became alive. Rifles flashed from behind every tree. Hatchet in hand, and bedecked with war paint, the Indians rushed upon the brave band, and, separating the rear-guard from the main body, cut it in pieces, and seized the supply train destined for the fort.

In the next ravine Herkimer rallied his men. Back to back, shoulder to shoulder, they faced the foe. Where two could stand together, one loaded while the other fired. Often the fight grew closer; patriot and Tory grappled with each other in deadly conflict, and the knife ended the desperate personal encounter. Herkimer, early wounded and his horse shot under him, sat on his saddle beneath a beech-tree, calmly smoking a pipe while ordering the battle. When urged to retire from a place of such danger, he replied,

"I will face the enemy." His calm heroism in this crisis of danger and disaster was of the utmost importance in keeping his men steady.

Against these German farmers, in their homespun garments, were pitted Johnson's "Greens," well equipped and uniformed in their gay color, the Hessian chasseurs, ranking among the best soldiers in Europe, with picked men of British and Canadian regiments, and the fierce warriors of the Iroquois. The brave farmers fought so well that an Indian chief afterwards said, in speaking of the battle:

"Me no want to fight Dutch Yankees any more."

After a five hours' conflict the Indians raised their cry of retreat, "Oonah! Oonah!" Johnson heard the firing of a sortie from the fort, and the British fell back. Herkimer and his brave men held the ground. In this sanguinary action the Americans lost two hundred killed—one-fourth of their whole force. A much larger number were either wounded or made prisoners.

The Indians lost one hundred of their bravest warriors, and the Tory loss was considerable.

The wounded Americans were all brought off by their comrades. On a litter of boughs they bore the shattered form of the sturdy old general to his home, where he died (August 6th), after suffering the amputation of his leg.

During the engagement a successful sortie was made from the fort by Colonel Willett, who captured two of the besiegers' camps, in which he found five British flags. Twenty-one wagon-loads of clothing, provisions, and ammunition were also captured. Sixteen days later the rumored advance of General Arnold caused St. Leger to precipitately abandon the siege.

Arnold had spread in advance the rumor of his approach. He also sent to St. Leger's camp a half-witted royalist, Hon Yost Schuyler, to exaggerate his numbers and his speed. Hon Yost told St. Leger that he had been hotly pursued and had narrowly escaped, exhibiting, in proof of his assertion, his coat, which he had perforated with bullet-holes. Some Oneidas friendly to the Americans also came to St. Leger's camp in hot haste, telling him that Burgoyne was cut to pieces, and that Arnold, with three thousand men, was close by. Speaking the Mohawk language fluently, Hon Yost advised the Indians to fly instantly. A panic and a perfect stampede among them was the result.

St. Leger quarrelled with Johnson, and the Indians had to make peace between them. Finding that the Indians were plundering his camp and leaving for home, St. Leger quitted it, leaving his tents, with most of his artillery and stores, spoils to the garrison. His men threw away their packs in their fright, and the flight became a disgraceful rout.

Serious as was the blow inflicted upon the patriotic farmers of the valley, their heroism was fruitful of good to the patriot cause. St. Leger's failure was a grievous disappointment to Burgoyne. Stark's success at Bennington occurred at the same time, and the combined effect of these two misfortunes rendered Burgoyne's grand scheme abortive, and paved the way for his ultimate defeat and capture.

Early in the summer of 1775, the inhabitants of the beautiful Wyoming Valley became alarmed at the movements of the Indians and Tories upon the upper waters of the Susquehanna. Atrocities had been perpetrated in the neighborhood of Tioga, and the Tories who had left the valley were in constant communication with those who remained.

Six stockades or forts were being erected by the people. Aged men, exempt by law from duty, were formed into companies to garrison them, while the whole of the militia were in constant requisition as scouts and guards. The attention of Congress had been frequently called to the danger menacing this exposed frontier. Nearly all its able-bodied men were away serving in the Continental army. Such was the condition of Wyoming when the Tory and Indian expedition was being prepared for its destruction.

Towards the last of June, Colonel John Butler, the commanding officer at Fort Niagara, organized an expedition to the Susquehanna, composed of three hundred Tories and about five hundred Indians, of various tribes. Entering the valley from the west, through a notch not far from the famous Dial Rock, they killed three men near Fort Jenkins. The inhabitants had made such preparation as they could to withstand the foe. A company of forty or fifty soldiers and a few militia composed the military force with which to oppose the enemy. Old men, boys, and even women seized such weapons as were at hand. Colonel Zebulon Butler, an officer of the Continental army, who happened to be at home, was made commander-in-chief. Forty Fort, so called from the first forty Yankee pioneers of Wyoming, was made the place of rendezvous, and thither the women and children fled for safety.

A council of war was held in the fort, the surrender of which was demanded. The alternative presented was either to fight or to submit to the tender mercies of the Indians and the more savage Tories. Colonel Zebulon Butler and the other leaders counselled delay, hoping for the arrival of reinforcements. To the majority prompt action seemed necessary, and they, bravely, but rashly, decided to march out and give battle to the invaders.

The plucky little American force, three or four hundred strong, approached and attacked the enemy's lines about four o'clock, the afternoon being extremely hot, advancing a step at each fire. Soon the enemy's left began to give way, but it was supported by the Indians, who kept up a galling fire. For half an hour this contest with greatly superior numbers was gallantly maintained, when the Indians succeeded in flanking Colonel Denison. His order to fall back was mistaken for an order to retreat, and the whole body fled in confusion.

Riding along the line, exposed to the fire of the contending parties, regardless of danger, the American leader besought his troops to remain firm.

"Don't leave me, my children," he exclaimed, "and the victory is ours!" All that brave and devoted officers could do was done by Butler and Denison, but it was too late; some fled to the fort, and some to Monocacy Island, nearly a mile distant.

A scene of horror ensued. The poet Campbell has faintly outlined its savage terrors in his "Gertrude of Wyoming," but no pen however gifted, no imagination however vivid, could adequately portray such a scene. Only sixty escaped the rifle, the tomahawk, and the scalping-knife. The prisoners were either tortured, or butchered in cold blood. Colonel Butler escaped to Wilkesbarre. Forty Fort was surrendered next day by Colonel Denison, there being no hope of a successful defence; but the terms of the capitulation were soon violated, the Indians having before night plundered the few remaining inhabitants and burned the abandoned dwellings. The village of Wilkesbarre was also burned, and the terrified villagers fled to the mountains. Except the few who gathered about the fort at Wilkesbarre, the ruined settlement was wholly abandoned by its former inhabitants and long remained deserted. Terribly as the valley had suffered, it continued to be harassed and devastated by the savage foe until peace was finally proclaimed.

Tryon County, New York, was also made a scene of desolation and misery. In June, Brant and his warriors burned the settlement of Springfield. In July, Wyoming, as we have seen, was desolated, and the valley of the Cobleskill laid waste. A little later the Schoharie Valley was ravaged by the Indians and Tories, and early in September the extensive and populous settlement of the German Flats was burned by Brant.