nd walnuts grew thick. I perched a turkey in the gloaming and
roasted him over a small fire. Having eaten, I walked to the edge of the
growth and gazed toward the west. Across the valley a light suddenly
twinkled on the side of a ridge. I first thought that hunters were camping
there; and as the light increased to a bright blaze I decided there was a
large company of them and that they had no fear of Indians.

But as I watched the flames grew higher. What had been a white light
became a ruddy light. The fire spread on both sides. My heart began to
pound and I tilted my head to listen. The distance was too far for me to
hear tell-tale sounds, still I fancied I could hear the yelling of demons
dancing around a burning cabin.

A dead man floating down the river; a boy seeking vengeance somewhere near
the blazing home, and a scout for Virginia traveling toward the
Greenbriar.

-----

[1] It is estimated that the whites lost three to the Indians'
one in Dunmore's War.

[2] Tomahawk improvements. Settlers often took possession by blazing
trees with axes and carving their names thereon. Such entry to land
was not legal, but usually was recognized and later made valid by
legal process. Such was the claim made to the site of modern
Wheeling, West Virginia, by Ebenezer Silas and Jonathan Zane
in 1770.

CHAPTER II

INDIAN-HATERS

I journeyed up the Cheat and left its head waters and proceeded down the
Greenbriar without observing any signs of the red peril which was creeping
upon the country. A great gray eagle, poised at the apex of my upturned
gaze, appeared to be absolutely stationary; a little brown flycatcher,
darting across my path, made much commotion. Red-crested woodpeckers
hammered industriously in dead wood for rations. So long as their tappings
resounded ahead of me I feared no ambush.

Wherever nut-trees stood the squirrels made more noise than did the House
of Burgesses when dissolved by Governor Dunmore for expressing
revolutionary sentiments. A most gracious country, and because of its
fairness, most fearfully beset. That which is worthless needs no
sentinels. I met with no humans, white or red; but when within a few miles
of Patrick Davis' home on Howard Creek I came upon a spot where three
Indians had eaten their breakfast that very morning.

I knew they must be friendly to the whites as they had not attempted to
hide their temporary camp. They had depa