Books with title Simon Girty : "The white savage"

Excerpt from Simon Girty; "The White Savage" (So Called by Heckewelder, Moravian Missionary): A Romance of the BorderBut few words are needed to explain the purpose of the following work. For nearly a score of years Simon Girty figured with a bad preeminence on our Western Border. From his renegade flight from Fort Pitt (now Pittsburgh), in I 778, down to Mad Anthony Wayne's battle of the Fallen Timbers in I 794, when the power and coherence of the Ohio Indian tribes were forever broken, Girty and his brothers were the scourge of the border. The dreaded name was a terror in every frontier cabin, the mere mention of which would cause woman's cheek to blanch and children's hair to stand with fear.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

Excerpt from Simon Girty; "The White Savage" (So Called by Heckewelder, Moravian Missionary): A Romance of the BorderBut few words are needed to explain the purpose of the following work. For nearly a score of years Simon Girty figured with a bad preeminence on our Western Border. From his renegade flight from Fort Pitt (now Pittsburgh), in I 778, down to Mad Anthony Wayne's battle of the Fallen Timbers in I 794, when the power and coherence of the Ohio Indian tribes were forever broken, Girty and his brothers were the scourge of the border. The dreaded name was a terror in every frontier cabin, the mere mention of which would cause woman's cheek to blanch and children's hair to stand with fear.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1880 edition. Excerpt: ...wait patiently, or we'll all be lost." The old chief's head bowed his thanks, while his dark eyes fairly gleamed and glittered with the unexpected and joyful hope which filled his heart. Betty's duty had been done--and done well and nobly. She drew a long breath of relief as she tripped blithely back on herpath; thanked the two' Indians warmly as she rapidly cut across to the hut, and with a "we're saved! we're saved!" fell breathlessly and faintingly into the outstretched arms of Drusilla waiting to receive her. A few minutes later, signs of an unusual stir were visible among the captives. Betty had glided to them out of the night like some ministering spirit, bringing joy and comfort to their despondent hearts. First, a low-toned consultation between Rose and Shepherd; then, a shifting over to that end of the log nearest Killbuck, and now some louder whisperings across the interval. The two whites had concluded it wisest to wait patiently as they were--the cutting of their withes might imperil the whole scheme. Killbuck was asked if he could use the knife to free his hands. Yes, but it would require a little time, and the chief thought he would attempt nothing now, but would hold the knife clenched in his fist until the proper moment came; and so it was finally arranged. When, therefore, the yelling mob pounced on the old Delaware, cut the bands which tied his feet, and dragged him ignominiously to what was intended alike as his place of torment and funeral pyre, he was calm and unruffled as the night itself. When his foes and the foes of his nation environed and hedged him about, glaring and gnashing at him, like a pack of hungry coyotes around some wounded old bull-buffalo, he smiled on...