The Camden Weekly Journal

THE ESCAPE.
A HISTORICAL FACT.

Early in the spring of 1780, Mr. Alexander McConnell, of Lexington, Ky., went into the woods on foot to hunt deer. He soon killed a large buck, and returned home for a horse, in order to bring it. During his absence a party of five Indians, in one of their skulking expeditions, accidentally stumbled on the body of the deer, and perceiving that it had been recently killed, they naturally supposed that the hunter would soon return to secure the flesh. Three of them, therefore, took their stations within close rifle shot of the deer, while the other two followed the trail of the hunter, and waylaid the path by which he was expected to return.

McConnell, thinking not of danger, rode carelessly along the path which the scouts were watching, until he had come within view of the deer, when he was fired on by the whole party, and his horse killed. While laboring to extricate himself from the dying animal, he was seized by his enemies, overpowered and borne off a prisoner. His captors however, seemed a merry, good natured sort of fellows, and permitted him to accompany them unbound—and what was rather extraordinary, allowed him to retain his gun and hunting accoutrements.

He accompanied them with great apparent cheerfulness through the day, and displayed his dexterity by shooting deer for the use of the company, until they began to regard him with great partiality. Having travelled with him in this manner for several days, they at length reached the bank of the Ohio river.

Heretofore the Indians had taken the precaution to bind him at night, although not very securely, but on that evening he remonstrated with them on the subject and complained so strongly of the pain which the cord gave him, that they merely wrapped the buffalo rug about his wrists, and having tied it in an easy knot and then attached the extremities of the rope to their bodies, in order to prevent his moving without awakening them, they very composedly went to sleep, leaving the prisoner to follow their example or not as he pleased.

McConnell determined to effect his escape that night if possible, as on the following morning they would cross the river, which would render it more difficult. He therefore lay quietly ruminating on the best means of effecting his escape. Accidentally casting his eyes in the direction of his feet, they fell upon the glittering blade of a knife, which had escaped from its sheath, and was now lying near the feet of one of the Indians.

To reach it with his hands without disturbing the two Indians to whom he was fastened, was impossible, and it was very hazardous to attempt to draw it up with his feet. This however he attempted. With much difficulty he grasped the blade between his toes, and after repeated and long continued efforts, succeeded at length in bringing it within reach of his hands. To cut the cord was but the work of a moment, and gradually and silently extricating himself he walked to the fire and sat down. He felt that his work was but half done. That if he should attempt to return home without destroying his enemies, he would be pursued and probably overtaken, when his fate would be certain. On the other hand it seemed almost impossible for a single individual to succeed in a conflict with five Indians even though unarmed and asleep. He could not hope to deal a blow with a knife so silently and fatally as to destroy each of his enemies in turn without awakening the rest. Their slumbers were proverbially light and restless—and if he failed with a single one, he must inevitably be overpowered by the survivors. The knife was therefore out of the question. After anxious reflection for a few moments he formed his plan.

The guns of the Indians were stacked near the fire. Their knives and tomahawks were sheathed by their sides. The latter he dare not touch for fear of arousing their owners, but the former he carefully removed with the exception of two, and hid them in the woods while the Indians were still sleeping, perfectly ignorant of the fate preparing for them, and taking one in each hand and resting the muzzles on a log, within six feet of his victims, and having taken deliberate aim at the head of one and the heart of another, he pulled both triggers at the same moment. Both shots were fatal.

At the report of the guns the others sprang to their feet glancing wildly about them. McConnell, who had run to the spot where the other rifles were hid, hastily seized one of them and fired at two of his enemies who happened to be standing in a line with each other. The nearest fell dead, being shot through the centre of the body; the second fell also, bellowing loudly, but soon recovering limped off as fast as possible. The fifth, the only one that remained unhurt, darted off like a deer, with a yell that announced equal terror and astonishment. McConnell not wishing to fight any more such battles, selected his own rifle from the stack, and made the best of his way to Lexington, where he arrived in two days.

A short time afterwards, Mrs. Dunlay, of Fayette, who had been several months a prisoner among the Indians on Mad river, made her escape and returned to Lexington. She reported that the survivor returned to his tribe with a lamentable tale. He stated that they had taken a fine young hunter near Lexington, and brought him as far as the Ohio; that while encamped on the bank of the river, a party of white men had fallen upon them in the night, and killed his companions, together with the poor defenceless prisoner, who lay bound hand and foot, unable either to escape or resist.