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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Narrative of the Captivity of William Biggs among the Kickapoo Indians in Illinois in 1788, by William Biggs This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Narrative of the Captivity of William Biggs among the Kickapoo Indians in Illinois in 1788 Author: William Biggs Release Date: October 7, 2008 [EBook #26799] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAPTIVITY OF WILLIAM BIGGS *** Produced by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) INDIAN CAPTIVITY OF WILLIAM BIGGS _Heartman's Historical Series Number 37_ NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY OF _WILLIAM BIGGS_ AMONG THE KICKAPOO INDIANS IN Illinois in 1788 Written By Himself Eighty-one Copies Re-Printed In Nineteen Hundred and Twenty-two. Number ... of 81 Copies Reprinted. Also Five Copies Issued on Japan Paper. NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY OF WILLIAM BIGGS AMONG THE KICKAPOO INDIANS IN ILLINOIS IN 1788 In the year 1788, March 28th, I was going from Bellfontain to Cahokia, in company with a young man named John Vallis, from the State of Maryland; he was born and raised near Baltimore. About 7 o'clock in the morning I heard two guns fired; by the report I thought they were to the right; I thought they were white men hunting; both shot at the same time. I looked but could not see any body; in a moment after I looked to the left and saw sixteen Indians, all upon their feet with their guns presented, about forty yards distant from me, just ready to draw trigger. I was riding between Vallis and the Indians in a slow trot, at the moment I saw them. I whipped my horse and leaned my breast on the horse's withers, and told Vallis to whip his horse, that they were Indians. That moment they all fired their guns in one platoon; you could scarcely distinguish the report of their guns one from another. They shot four bullets into my horse, one high up in his withers, one in the bulge of the ribs near my thigh, and two in his rump, and shot four or five through my great coat. The moment
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