ter was
their son."

Cornplanter lived to a great age. He was a wise counsellor, a great
leader, and he died when he was one hundred years old, having had
more conceded to him by the white men than any other chieftain.
General Washington wrote of him: "The merits of Cornplanter and his
friendship for the United States are well known and shall not be
forgotten."

But Cornplanter had not always been a friend to the palefaces.
During Dunmore's war and for years after, he was one of the most
vindictive of the savage leaders against the invading pioneers.

It was during this period of Cornplanter's activity against the
whites that Isaac Zane had the misfortune to fall into the great
chief's power.

We remember Isaac last when, lost in the woods, weak from hunger and
exposure, he had crawled into a thicket and had gone to sleep. He
was awakened by a dog licking his face. He heard Indian voices. He
got up and ran as fast as he could, but exhausted as he was he
proved no match for his pursuers. They came up with him and seeing
that he was unable to defend himself they grasped him by the arms
and led him down a well-worn bridle-path.

"D--n poor run. No good legs," said one of his captors, and at this
the other two Indians laughed. Then they whooped and yelled, at
which signal other Indians joined them. Isaac saw that they were
leading him into a large encampment. He asked the big savage who led
him what camp it was, and learned that he had fallen into the hands
of Cornplanter.

While being marched through the large Indian village Isaac saw
unmistakable indications of war. There was a busy hum on all sides;
the squaws were preparing large quantities of buffalo meat, cutting
it in long, thin strips, and were parching corn in stone vessels.
The braves were cleaning rifles, sharpening tomahawks, and mixing
war paints. All these things Isaac knew to be preparations for long
marches and for battle. That night he heard speech after speech in
the lodge next to the one in which he lay, but they were in an
unknown tongue. Later he heard the yelling of the Indians and the
dull thud of their feet as they stamped on the ground. He heard the
ring of the tomahawks as they were struck into hard wood. The
Indians were dancing the war-dance round the war-post. This
continued with some little intermission all the four days that Isaac
lay in the lodge rapidly recovering his strength. The fifth day a
man came into the lodge. He was tall a