got back safely
before daylight, depositing the body of the Indian in a barn belonging
to a Mr. Hopkins, in the north part of the town. It was soon noised
about town what they had done, and there lived a man there who
threatened to go and inform the tribe of the despoiling of the chief's
grave, unless he was paid thirty dollars to keep silence. The doctor,
being a bold, courageous man, refused to comply with a request he had
no right to make, because it was an attempt to "levy black mail," as it
is called.

Sure enough, he kept his word, and told the Onondagas, who were living
between Elbridge and Syracuse. They were very much exasperated when
they heard what had been done, and threatened vengeance on the town
where the dead chief lay.

The tribe was soon called together, and a march was planned to go up to
Auburn by the way of Skaneateles Lake,--a beautiful sheet of water
lying six miles east of Auburn. They encamped in the pine woods,--a
range called the "pine ridge,"--half-way between the two villages, and
sent a few of the tribe into Auburn for the purpose of trading off the
baskets they had made for powder and shot; but the real purpose they
had in view was to find out just where the body was (deposited in the
barn of Mr. Josiah Hopkins), intending to set fire to the barn and burn
the town, rescuing the dead chief at the same time.

For several days the town was greatly excited, and every fireside at
night was surrounded with anxious faces; the children listening with
greedy ears to narratives of Indian cruelties perpetrated during the
war with the English about Canada, in 1812; and I remember how it was
told of a cruel Indian named Philip, that he would seize little babes
from their mothers' arms and dash out their brains against the wall! No
wonder we dreamed horrid dreams of the dusky faces every night.

At that time the military did not amount to much. There was a company
of citizen soldiers there, called the "AUBURN GUARDS," numbering about
forty men, with a captain whose name I forget, but who became suddenly
seized with the idea of his unfitness to defend the town against the
threatened Indian invasion, and did the wisest thing he could, and
resigned his commission on a plea of "_sudden indisposition_." The
doctor walked the street as bold as a lion, but acting also with the
shrewd cunning of the fox. And now, my young friends, instead of
weaving a bloody romance in the style of the "Dime Novels," depict