Send E-mail to [email protected]History of Carroll and Harrison Counties, Ohio Under the Editorial Supervision of Judge H.J. Eckley, for Carroll County; Judge Wm. T. Perry, for Harrison County
The Lewis Publishing Company, Chicago and New York, 1921Volume 1
CHAPTER XVII
Carroll County's Only Indian Fight
The Carroll Republican of February, 1887, should have the credit for the following "story" or narrative concerning the only Indian skirmish enacted on the soil of this county: (Several paragraphs have been omitted. [Original text note])
In days of peace and security, we read with wonder and doubt of the dangerous perils and privations our forefathers endured in the settlement of what is now the United States. The battle of civilization against the heathen, on the American continent, was a long and hard one, and terribly fought, the prize a momentous one -- the supremacy of the American continent.
It is enough to know that disagreements in the distant past led to war, the theatre of which changed the progress of civilization and it is not yet ended. Prudence required the necessary preparation for security and defense. One measure adopted by the Colonists was keeping on the frontier trusted spies, to learn and report the movements and intentions of the savages. In !his department figured the most conspicuous defenders of the frontier, such as Daniel Boone, Calloway, Kenton, Brady, Gibson, the Wetzels, etc., whose heroic adventures and daring courage has already filled volumes. The spy department became a fixed institution, and it is necessarily continued to the present time.
The time of which this narrative relates, the army of civilization had reached the Ohio River and fortified itself by means of forts and block-houses on the east and southern banks. The beat of the hazardous scout was necessarily transferred to the unexplored wilderness west of the Ohio River. These beats were as carefully defended, as of the guard who kept watch while the army slept. Great responsibility rested upon the vigilance of the scouts. The protection of age and infancy, of beauty and innocence -- in short, all on the frontier, depended upon the vigilance and courage of the scouts. They were the trusted and confidential agents of the government itself. Of course, none but the most faithful and brave were selected for that, the settlers most important trust.
One of these "beats" was from the mouth of Captine Creek to the mouth of Beaver (Fort McIntosh), running thirty miles back in the wilderness, parallel with the Ohio River. It crossed most all of the most frequented trails leading from the Sandusky towns to the Ohio River. For this important beat the government selected its most trusty and experienced men -- men who had the physical and mental ability, of unbending integrity, and daring courage; men who could not be subdued by privations and hardship -- and who but simply laughed at danger.
The selection fell upon Capt. James Downing, lsaac Miller, John Cuppy, and James [should read George] Foulks, four men cradled on the frontier, inured from infancy to hardship, used to the fatigue and dangers of war and the chase and well schooled in all the arts of woodcraft.
Downing was the Hercules of the party, a strong robust man of great physical ability; not as fleet as his companions, equal to Napoleon at the bridge of Lodi; of a judgment quick, discriminating and accurate, kind to a fault and as vigilant as a hawk. He was pacific in nature and so genial in his manner that to know him was but to love him.
Miller was the Greek athlete of the party. He could run it is said, for twenty-four hours without food, rest or sleep. His shot was unerring as the arrow of Robinhood at the games of England. He had never found a man that was his equal in a foot race. He was not the equal of Downing in strength; but could call every muscle into service in an emergency.
Foulks was a lithe, wiry man who had been several years among the Shawnees and spoke several Indian tongues. He was as sly as a fox; wiry as an antelope, and as untiring as a greyhound.
Cuppy was a well-formed man, muscular, bright of intellect, and had great power of endurance. He, too, was a splendid shot. From this rough picture can be seen the wisdom of the selection for so important a trust. The reader can now easily imagine the confidence it gave to the people of the frontier, that four such daring men should be placed in their front, to act as eyes to the settlements entrenched on the other side of the river Ohio.
It was a bright summer day when the little band left the settlement at the mouth of the Tomlinson Run to enter upon this hazardous "beat." The parting with their friends and neighbors was sincere and touching and from many an eye unused to weep the tear was seen to fall. They were all single men, and in the crowd were blushing maidens who regarded them with more tender feelings than that merely of friendship.
They went to Fort McHenry (Wheeling) and from there to Captine Creek, the commencement of the trail. They knew the danger before them; they knew the hazards they were taking in their line of duty; they knew that if a savage was on any of the trails they must cross they must meet him. They also knew that it was the season of the year when the Indians were likely to be on the war-path. They thought of friends and relatives and dear ones they had left behind and they were sad. Although used to risks, dangers and hardships, denied the advantages of refined society, they had hearts truer and more sympathetic than you find in boudoir or saloon of luxury.
As they stood on the western bank of the Ohio, they took an anxious look at their own Virginia and as Downing's glance wandered up and down the queen river and rested upon its dramatic hills on the nether side, and with a half choked utterance, said to his companions "Our duty is to our God and our country," they at once plunged into the wilderness. Downing took the lead. They marched single-file, replacing every weed and blade of grass, displacing no branch, so as to leave no tell-tale behind them. No one was allowed to speak, signs took the place of words. They examined every trail with acuteness as would a blood-hound.
Thus they treated the unknown wilderness, compelled to be self-reliant for there was no probability of support in case of an attack. There was not a single settler between them and the river. And to the west of them was the land of the savage. They passed up Wheeling Creek until night overtook them. They stopped for the night, every precaution being used. They slept singly and at some distance apart. The watchword, in case of alarm was the quiet "hist."
In this cautious manner, they laid down to rest. About midnight Foulks gave the alarm, and as the ear of the scout was always open, they immediately assembled at their fire. Foulks said he heard the imitation of the hoot of an owl. Cuppy denied it, and said he heard it and it was the genuine vernacular of the bird of the forest. Downing after listening to the pros and cons dismissed them to repose. In the morning Miller and Foulks were sent in different directions to make a circuit around to look for signs of Indians. They returned and reported "No moccasin tracks," and the scouts resumed their journey.
They crossed the rugged hills to Short Creek and again laid down for the night. They now turned westerly, so as to cover the trail from Gnadenhutten. They struck Cross Creek high up and again encamped, using the usual precaution. After midnight, Cuppy's attention was attracted by something crawling on the ground and dimly seen as the shape of a body. Quick as lightning his gun cocked and the object lay still. The scouts all seized their arms and were on the defensive.
Foulks, crawling near enough, he hurled his tomahawk and it found ready sheath, but the object lay still. Upon examination it proved to be a wolf which had been attracted by the smell of the camp and driven by its hunger had ventured near enough to receive the fatal shot of the unerring Cuppy. His bullet had passed through its brain, and what was, remarkable, Foulks' hatchet had struck in the same orifice. The report of the rifle induced the scouts to remove one-fourth mile to a new place, where they remained until morning. After the usual examination and finding no signs of danger, they resumed their march.
They now turned toward the Conotton and camped on the head-waters of that stream, near the site of present New Rumley. Then the country was in its virgin dress. Not a sign of civilized life could be found in all of its solitude. The next day they reached the present site of New Hagerstown, and stopped for the night. The weather was now indeed beautiful. The leaves of the forest presented the most variegated panorama, the valleys decked with flowers of every hue. It was nature in her most charming and fascinating beauty. The scouts gazed at the beauties about them and remarked "'What a lovely Eden for civilized man."
When the stars came out, Downing marked the course for the next day's march, due north, then laid down to rest, feeling entire security. They had seen nothing of the dusky warriors during their march and they laid down and were soon buried in sleep. The creeping of the panther, the howl of the wolf, the hooting of the owl, were the lullaby that wooed them to steep. The next morning they struck north and struck the Indian Fork, near the farm of Joseph Marshall, at what was then called the "Indian Camp."
As they approached the camp, they discovered a weird figure half naked, with long black hair streaming in the wInd, his feet unshod, and a few tattered rags covering his body. He was shy, but not frightened. Foulks soon shadowed him with his rifle and then brought him to bay. He turned out to be old Johnny Appleseed, a religious crank of the New Jerusalem church. He believed he had a special mission to perform for his faith. One was to provide for the coming civilization. He planted fruit trees before there was a man to need them. He abhorred all animal food and was never known to kill any living creature. The most deadly reptile was secure under the eye of Johnny Appleseed.
In brief he was a faithful follower of Baron Swedenborg. He was cheered by the scouts for they knew him. He was friendly and kind and told them they were sleeping over a volcano; that he had seen no signs of war parties, but knew Captain Pipe was expecting them. After gaining all they could from him the scouts laid down and camped for the night.
In the morning, Johnny Appleseed admonished the scouts to beware of danger; that he read danger in the seasons, and "smelt" it from afar. The night had been calm and peaceful under the serene sky. They were confident and hopeful. They took leave of their strange host in the morning and pushed on their way, following the direction of the unique person, crossed Baxter's Ridge and struck down into Pipe's Creek fork. Their rations growing short and not withstanding the warnings of Appleseed, Miller shot a deer, suppressing the report of his gun as frontiersmen knew how.
Turning across to the Sandy, they followed the Indian trail to where the village of Minerva now stands and went into camp where later stood the house of Thomas Jackson, south of the village. The day was fine, the air was salubrious. The scouts were cheerful and hopeful. One day more of fatigue and they would reach the end of their beat. But they talked among themselves, that it would be well to heed the admonition of their weird friend Appleseed; but Foulks laughed at the idea and said "God has never inspired such a looking creature with the spirit of prophecy." Downing and Miller rejoined that caution was the part of wisdom and that while everything seemed quiet and serene, danger might be lurking in ambush. Downing therefore ordered them all to their posts, MIller was to grain the deer skin to repair their foot-gear; Foulks to prepare their supper; Cuppy to prepare a place for them to rest, while Downing himself went on duty as sentinel.
Although all nature seemed in harmony with their own feeling to almost insure peace and safetv in the bosom of tranquility; the Sandy that rippled at their feet went laughing on to join in the chorus of the far away ocean; not a breath plaved with the tall grass of the lovely valley; beasts and birds were still as if it were their Sabbath. But alas, how little do men know of the immediate future!
Downing had just taken his position and his keen dark eyes wandered up and down the valley and hill-sides beyond; he saw a warrior arise out of the grass to his full stature, attracted, perhaps, by the smoke of their camp-fire. A half moon hung to his breast. Downing drew his bead, the rifle cracked and the warrior fell. The scouts seized their rifles and rushed down to the creek. They saw a second warrior about where Yellowstone later stood, but he was running for life. They followed and when they reached where later the Center House stood, they saw the hill where the Lutheran church now is, and it was literally red with warriors coming toward them yelling hideously.
Downing took in the situation at a glance. He reasoned that a single hand could not storm the castle, neither could four scouts, thirty miles from any support fight all the dusky warriors of the forest; but strategy often beats numbers. Downing ordered a hasty retreat and the four scouts followed by the whole pack of yelling savages retreated. The formidable number revealed the critical condition of the scouts. They were, however, equal to the emergency. These daring sons of the border, trained from infancy to face danger, had not learned the words of command from Malboro, Duane, Scott or Hardee, but they had tactics of their own learned from the instructor of necessity which they well understood and obeyed with much more promptness than any soldier has been taught in the modern-day military schools.
Downing called out "Every man for himself." The four immediately scattered, each taking a different route.
Foulks took the trail for the Beaver; Cuppy took a middle route to the Muddy Fork; Downing struck for the Still Fork. After Downing started his race he was discovered to be covered with blood. Miller ran to him and learned that he had had the nose bleed. He took his knife and cut his collar and also his neck-tie when he breathed easier and Miller gave him as a parting word "Jim. run for your life." Miller alone remained on the plain as a decoy.
He played it well. He pranced back and forth to draw the fire of the Indians and he succeeded. His real object was to gain time for his comrades and give them time to get a good start. The whole tribe rushed with hideous yells for Miller. He played with them as long as he dared to, then bounded soulhward with the speed of a frightened deer, the whole crew following in his wake. He reached the Little Fork River near its mouth, and crossed he knew not how for when he reached the southern side his feet were dry. To have jumped it was impossible, but how he got over was to him always a mystery.
On the southern shore he turned to see what was behind him and he observed a warrior just entering the waters at the other side. He drew up his rifle and fired. The warrior fell, but whether he killed him he never knew. He continued his flight south over hill and dale until he reached the site where Harrisburg now stands. The stars of night had now come out. He took his course by the North Star, turned east, passed where Carroliton now stands and struck the headwaters of Yellow Creek, three miles to the east, followed that stream to its mouth which place he reached the next day, having run all night.
The most intense anxiety prevailed in the settlement for the fate of these scouts. Not a word had been heard from them, after leaving Fort Henry. It was the only thing thought or talked about in the settlement. It was lisped by children and mothers were almost distracted with fear. Mothers with tearful eyes looked upon the white heads of their innocent children and counted their troubles in terrible chances for they well knew that if the scouts were killed or even captured, their weak settlement would he in immediate danger and they would be inundated with a tribe of blood-thirsty savages, and their captivity or death was only a question of little time.
To their surprise a canoe glided by across the river and landed and Miller was seen on the eastern shore. One at least was safe. Miller could tell that he had saved his own life and perhaps his commander's, but of that He only who holds the destiny of nations and men in His hands, alone could tell. The settlers loved Downing, Foulks and Cuppy. Their loss would be almost unbearable.
Then anxiety was relieved during the day, for either providentially or accidentally they all returned during the one day, coming in singly by different routes. They were all received with extended arms by rejoicing friends. How far the Indians had followed them -- the trail of the bleeding scouts --they never knew. If they pursued them at all, it was in vain.
This is the "Lost Chapter." If this story of the "only battle with Indians in Carroll County" has been interesting and will be perpetuated in the annals of the county for all future generations, then the task has been none too hard. The facts contained herein were given out on the death-bed of Mr. Miller, one of the four scouts above mentioned. As to the other actors in these stirring times, it should be added that all lived to a ripe old age, full of years and also full of honors. They reared large families, achieved suitable success and were loved and revered by all who knew them. They lived to realize their early religious teachings that the "heathen should perish from the earth" and that the "wilderness biossom as the rose.',
These scouts lived to see every inch of Ohio redeemed from the claim of Indian titles, and all owned by treaty or actual purchase by white men.
Miller and Downing were early settlers in the Sandy Valley where they made delightful homes and were referred to by thousands who came after them.
Foulks settled on a tract of land given him by the State of Pennsylvania, near Darlington, for his services as a scout. About 1830 he removed to Northern Richland County, purchased a large tract of land, laid out the town of Rome, gathered his children and grand-children about him and in the evening of life returned and finally passed to the other shore.
Miller laid out the town of Downingsville (now Magnolia) this county, which he named in honor of his old comrade.
Cuppy raised a large family, moved to Dayton and at the advanced age of one hundred years, closed his career on earth. Their long lives were consecrated to their country and to humanity.
Peace to their ashes -- honor to their memory.
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Additional Information Researched by Thom Foulks, Colorado Springs, 1997. Sources and Web pointers indicated.
Johnny Appleseed, the popular name of John Chapman (1774-1845), was an almost legendary character and nature lover of the frontier days in the Middle West. Not much is known about the particulars of his life. He was born in Massachusetts and went west about 1800, carrying with him apples for planting. He lived the rest of his life in Ohio and Indiana, wandering about clad in rags like a pilgrim, tending the apple orchards he started wherever he found a good spot, and reading aloud from the Bible.
The seeds that he planted and the saplings he gave away to the local Indians and to the new settlers helped to build the orchards of the Midwest. Chapman also planted the seeds of many healing herbs--catnip, horehound, and pennyroyal--and despite his eccentric appearance, he was regarded as a healer, and even something of a saint, by settlers and Indians alike.
John Chapman, b. Leominster, Massachusetts, Sept. 26, 1774, d. Mar. 10, 1845, near Ft. Wayne, Indiana
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COMMENTARY Thom Foulks, Colorado Springs, 1997
First, note that this text has been extensively re-formatted (without content change) for easier reading. Overall, this article appears to be an effort by the authors to add some drama to their county history by tapping the legends of individuals whose historical fame came from events other than this skirmish. What really happened in this narrative, was that a group of scouts (whose job was to spy on Indian activities) accidentally drew the attention of a far larger group of Indians. After a small exchange of shots, the scouts retreated, and went home. For an alternative report of the same incident, read George FouIks-Frontiersman, Daughters of the American Revolution Magazine, February, 1970, by Mina S. FouIks.
The encounter with Johnny Appleseed has the ring of sincerity. John (Chapman) was known to travel alone, be quite eccentric in actions and appearance, and to know well the habits of both the Indians and the settlers. (The researcher of this information, and Webmaster of this site, has lived on a farm where Johnny Appleseed planted the orchard.)
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