As the morning dawned, the main body of the Governor's force was perceived
coming down the mountain. The shouts of the soldiers could be
heard from time to time. These were led by one of the younger officers.
The old chief himself was detained by two causes—first, to bring up the
horses and mules left behind; and secondly, lay out a wide military road
from the gap down the western side of the mountain. Some days after this
a similar one was cut on its eastern side.

[figure description] Page 237.[end figure description]

Every one was now in the highest spirits—the main objects of the expedition
were already attained. They had cut their way across the mountains—
defeated the savages, who had sworn they should never penetrate beyond the
mountains, except over their dead bodies—and they had discovered that long
looked for El Dorado, so ardently desired by the Governor and his friends.
True, they nowhere discovered the sources of the Mississippi, but that was
now sufficiently explained, by the towering barriers which every where presented
themselves along the western horizon, verifying exactly the descriptions
which Chunoluskee had given to the Governor, as detailed in the early
part of our narrative. They had, however, discovered a beautiful and extensive
country between the mountains, and they were satisfied for the present.
Towards evening the Governor, with the horses and wounded, joined the
main force, and pitched his encampment upon the very ground lately occupied
by his enemies, and where Hall had so nearly lost his life. The first
person who presented himself at the Governor's quarters was the scout. He
had left a captive on the other side, about whom he was very solicitous.

“Well, scout,” said the Governor, “so you have come to claim your
reward, I suppose, for capturing the traitor and murderer, Chunoluskee; but
why did you not bring him to me immediately after the battle?”

“To tell you the truth, Governor, I was afeer'ed you would exchange him,
as he would be a big bate among his people, but I hope you have made sure of
the yaller rascal.”

“Aye, certainly; but you had no design to propitiate his sister, by retaining
this captive upon your own account?”

“What! me, your honor? none in the world! the deuce take his sister, I
say; she turns up her royal nose at your honor's scout, as if she would'nt
let me touch her with a ten foot pole.”

“So, then, you have met with a rebuff already! What reason did she give
for her refusal of such an advantageous offer?”

“None, Sir, none—except that it was the woodpecker seeking to mate
with the eagle!”

The Governor laughed, and so did Joe—nothing discomfited, apparently, by
his recent rejection. He seemed already to have forgotten almost that such
a scheme had ever entered his head. In fact, he was at the time at which we
have arrived, upon a very different errand—he was waiting to receive his
reward for capturing the interpreter. And while we are upon the subject of
the traitor, we may as well despatch it at once. Some days after, he was
summoned before a court-martial, tried, found guilty, and condemned to death.
He was, however, never executed—the Governor was so much elated with the
success of his grand enterprise, that before his departure from the valley, he
set all the captives free, and fully pardoned the murderer of his own son. He
required but one condition to his clemency, and that was, that they and their
people were to abandon the valley at once and forever. He charged them that
if ever they were found; this side of the western ridge, that they
would be shot down like wild beasts. All this was done to the utter horror
of the scout and all his class. It is true, the former was somewhat
mollified, by seeing that the Governor no longer attempted to put in force
his christianizing and tributary systems.

He was heard to declare, “that the licking which the Governor had
given them on the other side of the mountains, had done more to humanize
'em, than all the book larnin' they had eyer got to Williamsburg, and
at schools among the nations.”

On the second day of the encampment in the valley, the usual notice
was posted up, that the Governor would the next morning despatch a
courier for the capital. Many letters were written on the joyful occasion,
some of which we will give to our readers.

[figure description] Page 238.[end figure description]

To the Rev. Dr. Blair:—
Valley of Virginia, 1714.

My Dear, Sir—At length we have scaled the Blue Mountains, but
not without a sharp skirmish with the savages, and many of them, I am
sorry to say, were of those who so lately received our bounty, and were
besides objects of such deep solicitude to us. All our labors, my dear
Sir, towards civilizing and christianizing even the tributaries, have been
worse than thrown away. Mr. Boyle's splendid scheme of philanthropy is
a failure, and we, his humble agents, have no other consolation left, but
a consciousness of having done our duty, with a perseverance which
neither scorn nor scepticism could not turn aside. Let it not be
said hereafter, that no effort was made in Virginis to treat the Aborigines
with the same spirit of clemency and mildness which was so successful
in Pennsylvania. Far greater efforts have been made by us, than was
ever made in that favored colony. The difference in the result is no
doubt owing to the fact, that the subjects with whom we have had to
deal were irretrievably spoiled before they came under our charge—not
so with those of Pennsylvania. I mention these things to you, because you
know that it was my determination when I sat out, to cross the mountains,
peaceably if I could, and forcibly if I must. The latter has been the alternative
forced upon me. From almost the very moment of setting out, our
steps have been dogged, and our flanks harrassed by these lawless men, and
more than one murder has been committed upon our sentries. But of
these things we can converse when we meet. I suppose you are anxious to
hear something of the country, which I have so long desired to see with my
own eyes. Well, Sir, the descriptions given to us at Temple Farm by the
interpreter were not at all exaggerated, and were, besides, wonderfully accurate
in a geographical point of view. It is indeed true enough that there are
double ranges of mountains, and that the sources of the Mississippi do not
rise here. We are now in a valley between these ranges, with the western
mountains distinctly in view, and the eastern ones immediately in our rear.
This valley seems to extend for hundreds of miles to the northeast and south-west,
and may be some fifty or sixty broad. I learn from my prisoners that
it has been mostly kept sacred by the Indians as a choice hunting ground, and
has not been the permanent residence of any of them, but that they came
and squatted during the hunting season. All this the interpreter kept (very
wisely, as he thought, no doubt) to himself. We have not yet seen the
miraculous boiling and medicinal springs, nor the bridge across the mountains;
but parties of exploration are daily going out, and such extravagant
accounts as they give of the game, and the country, and the rivers, and the
magnificent prospects, beggar my pen to describe. I can see enough, my dear
Sir, from the heights in my near neighborhood, to know that it is one of the
most charming retreats in the world. I do not hesitate to predict that a
second Virginia will grow up here, which will rival the famed shores of the
Chesapeake; but the products will be different, and the people must be different;
for it is a colder region. We have already had nipping frosts, and some
ice upon the borders of the streams.

The Indian prisoners tell me that the springs before mentioned are beyond
the second range of mountains, and that there also are to be found
the sources of the Mississippi—the French settlements and many other
of the objects for which we set out. They must now be left for another
campaign. In the meantime, the frontiers of the Colony must be speedily
pushed hitherward. This country will suit admirably for our Scotch and
Irish emigrants, and inducements must be held out to them to venture into
the wilderness, while we see to making roads for them and affording them
protection. I am delighted with my adventure so far, and only one subject
of disappointment remains. I cannot have a brush with our ancient

[figure description] Page 239.[end figure description]

enemies. These captives tell me that the French and the six nations
have uninterrupted intercourse from the lakes to the Mississippi. This
great tramontane highway must be broken up at all hazards, else all that
magnificent western country slips from our grasp, and besides we will be
constantly subject to be harrassed by these disagreeable neighbors. In short,
my dear Sir, the boundaries of Virginia must be pushed to the banks of
the Mississippi. I know you will say that my towering military ambition
is running away with me, but I feel very sure that I can submit such
representations to the council, as will induce them to unite with me in
an earnest appeal to the ministry at home for aid in the magnificent conquest.
You will readily perceive from what I have already said, that I
consider our enterprise but half accomplished, and that another far more
extensive will be prepared as soon as we can hear from the other side of
the water.[17] My young men have behaved most gallantly. Young Lee
will make a fine soldier, his daring bravery is among the least of his
qualifications. He has rendered me most important services, so indeed
have Moore, and Carter, and Hall, and even my protege Dandridge. I
send you a list of others of the young gentry who distinguished themselves.
I wish you to have a Golden Horse-Shoe made for each of them
to wear upon the breast, as a distinction for meritorious services: with the
motto on one side, “Sic juval transcendere montes,” and on the other, “The
Tramontane Order.” Have them ready if possible by our return, which you
may now expect in a few weeks. I shall despatch letters for my own family—
I have only therefore, farther to say, that I remain your friend,

Valley Camp, 1714.
Dear Ellen:

I am once more writing from a couch of some pain and suffering, but thank
God not like the last from which I addressed you that dismal letter, which I
then supposed would be my last. I have no such apprehensions now. My
wounds are in a fair way, and I am even permitted to walk about this large
tent—(the Governor's marquee) and above all, I am permitted to write to you.

Our camp is now pitched near to a rising knoll at the western base of the
mountains, commanding a magnificent view of one of the most charming valleys
that ever blessed the vision of enthusiasts. And I am told by the parties
which nightly come in from exploring expeditions, that I have not seen half
of its beauties. You never heard such enthusiastic accounts of a country,
and the Governor is not a whit behind the youngest of them in admiration of
its charms. But I must postpone my raptures about the country until I tell
you something of your friend's young kinswoman, who has been so long in
captivity. I am sure that this time you will not be jealous, if I tell you a great
deal about that charming creature. First, then, we have recovered her, but
nearly at the expense of Hall's life. Nothing prevented such a catastrophe
but the foresight of our experienced chief, and the admirable presence of mind
of our chief scout, Joe Jarvis—but of these things we can converse more fully
when we meet face to face—I trust to part no more.

When Eugenia first made her appearance in camp, she was less strange in
her appearance than was her state of mind. She was dressed something as
you have seen Wingina, half in the European and half in the Indian costume,
and to tell the truth, she looked exceedingly pretty: but, alas! there was a
wild vacancy about her eyes and countenance generally, which alarmed me.
It was more perceptible to me, because I had known her in her better days

[figure description] Page 240.[end figure description]

and under more favorable circumstances. This, as I expected and feared, terminated
in sickness, and she has been lying ever since in an ample tent,
almost touching ours. She has been constantly attended by Hall, and by a
young man who was formerly a pupil of your excellent father. Since I have
been permitted to move about, I have visited her almost every hour. Her case
would have furnished a curious study for some one more philosophically disposed,
than any one we can boast of in our ranks. Her disease seemed like
Ophelia's, a rooted sorrow from which no mere mortal physician could pluck
the sting. Even her mental faculties seemed in a sort of eclipse—not that
she wandered, as it is called, or was at all frantic, but she appeared imbecile
and childish. This was succeeded by such a load of oppression, that I, who
knew her, feared her heart would break; but good old mother nature always
came to her relief in the shape of a plentiful shower of hysterical tears, mingled
sometimes with frightful laughter. The latter ugly concomitant has
been gradually subsiding, and true and genuine tears have taken their place.
At first they forbid her to talk upon the melancholy particulars of the sad affair
at Germana, but I saw that this was all wrong, and I at length persuaded the
Governor to let me try the opposite plan; I am happy to say it has succeeded
beyond my most sanguine expectations. She now loves to talk over her
melancholy story, and I left her but a few moments ago, talking and crying
with poor Hall. Her sensibility is evidently returning, and with it her mental
strength. By the time she reaches Williamsburg, you will see that she is
worthy of all the commendations I have bestowed upon her. I have not and
will not say that she has attained to that excellence which my Ellen has
aimed at, but she possesses all the native materials to work upon, and will
doubtless attain, as she grows in experience and knowledge of the world, to a
point worthy of moving in your delightful circle. You must recollect that she
early lost her mother. True, you were equally unfortunate, but then her place
was supplied to you by such a father as seldom blesses the orphan female in
this world. You must recollect, too, that the lamented uncle who adopted her
was a purely military character, and how poorly calculated were his daily
associates to refine and model the forming character of our young friend. It
was the brightness with which she shone under such disadvantageous circumstances,
which first attracted my attention. I thought then what a charming
creature she would be if she could only possess the advantages which
you possessed. Dreadful has been her experience—the hand of affliction has
been laid heavily upon her, and I regret of all things, that she cannot be at
this very moment under your care as well as that of your father.

You would like to hear something doubtless of your former protege Wingina.
I have been loth to say any thing about her, because I could not say any thing
that would be pleasing to you. She, I fear, brought nothing away from civilized
life, but its evils. Jarvis, the scout, seems to have a rude sort of a passion
for her, but she treats him with scorn and detestation; and to tell you
the truth, I am rejoiced at it, on account of both. He is almost as much a
savage as one of her race, but there is this difference—the scout has a substratum
(if I may be allowed the expression) in his character, which promises
better things than any which he now exhibits, while the Indian, I fear,
is just the reverse.

I have learned to feel something like an attachment for the scout. The
native soil is a good one, and with judicious attention and skilful guidance,
he might be made a useful man in his sphere. I have proposed to him to go
home with me, when we return, and live upon my land, but he declares that
he means to live in this valley. Time will show whether he is to be moved
from his purpose.

The Governor's benevolent views towards the Indians have received a terrible
shock with his Tramontane experience, and I suspect that we shall
hear little of Mr. Boyle's plans in future, and less of his own tributary schools.

[figure description] Page 241.[end figure description]