Legends of Lost river valley as related by Joseph Pontus

Front matter

Legends r

Lost m

It

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE.

I Joseph Pontus 7

II Lost River— The Great Springs 16

CHAPTER I. Joseph Pontus

?ROM the center of the stream of Lost River the elevation is generally abrupt for some distance, forming well rounded hills, and back of these, the surface is level, or gently undulating, forming a plateau of marvellous beauty and richness. On the western part of this plateau, under the protection of the mighty hills, whose forest-crowned tops seem to bank against the sky, was located the home of Joseph Pontus; here he had resided for more than half a century. His father was an adventurous fur trader, who often visited the Indian tribes, in the original fur age, when purchasing furs of Indians was the great western industry; his mother was an Indian girl, who was tall and lithe, and who, in beauty and elegance of manner, excelled any other woman in her tribe. Joe was reared among the rugged scenes and shared the stormy experiences of frontier life, from the Indian point of view, at the time

8 I^KGENDS OF I.OST RIVER VALI^EY

when the white man gradually, but certainly, step by step, drove the Indian toward the setting sun.

As a lad, he was playful, full of bravery and determination, and in the midst of the disappointments and the joys of his young life, the one emotion that asserted itself and controlled all others, was his unwavering fidelity to his mother. He clung to her with all the strength and devotion of his youthful heart, and when she was taken from him by death, his proud young spirit was utterly broken. He was silent and alone in the great world, so full of uncertaintres and dangers. But at length there appeared a rift in the cloud of sorrow pending over him, he gradual^ emerged from this great grief with no one to bestow parental affection upon him, and to know no master but the great spirit of the heavens, his mother's God, and the only God of his earlier years.

He soon asserted his individualit}^ among his comrades. He was a physical stalwart even in the midst of a tribe of aborigines distinguished for its braves of gigantic size and courage. Yes, ''There were giants in the earth in those days," men of bravery and unwavering fidelity to the welfare of a race, by decree of the God of the nations, doomed to slow but certain extinction. Joe's shrewdness and intelligence made him an important factor and adviser in matters of both local

JOSEPH PONTUS

JOSEPH PONTUS 9

and of a public nature. "Wit will shine through the dark cadence of a rugged line."

Years hurried by, the waves of time and war and death passed over the Indian people. The distinguished Tecumseh's brother, Elskwatawa, the prophet, the war leader of the tribe, was slain at Tippecanoe, which place is now known as "Battle Ground," on the Monon line, beside the Wabash Riv^er, in Tippecanoe County, Indiana, and his people — his nation — gradually faded away, as if dazzled and stupified by the effulgence of the Star of Empire on its western pilgrimage.

The storms of many winters, the passing of many years, the anxieties and griefs that burdened his sympathetic heart, had made deep impressions on Joe's strength and appearance. His long, straight hair had assumed the whiteness of the snow. He remained near his old home^near the grave of his mother, and had grown to be a venerable father. Full of wisdom and experience, he was universally called by the name of Uncle Joe, which name, however, was used only as a term of endearment and as a recognition of the superior wisdom of this venerable but rough child of nature.

Joe's people, the Shawnees, having slowly and solemnly passed on toward the great Pacific sea, he remained, quiet, solitary and alone. Like the stalwart oak, having braved the storms that had pros-

10 I^EGENDS OF IvOST RIVKR VAI.I.EY

trated its fellows, standing alone and solitary on the mountain, the sole reminder of its departed comrades, so he remained the noble, picturesque and solitary reminder of a vanquished race.

He had erected a comfortable house many years before, had planted gardens and cared for them after the manner of the white people, and gradually, and even unperceptibly to himself, had adopted the ways of living of his white neighbors, who always made him one of their number. The new learning and intelligence that seemed to spread over the west, like the air we breathe, like the light of the sun, or the rising of the morning, seemed to pronounce a benediction on his declining years. He was great in his influence, great in his wisdom, and great in the admiration and respect of the people; he accepted the blessings of civilization, and the white people were his brethren. The white residents were uncouth and unpolished, and in many respects, Joe was head and shoulders above them all. Perhaps it was true that no one knew as much as he, of everything and everybody, but, whether true or not, there was in the minds of the neighbors no doubt, that when desired information was not elsewhere obtainable, he was the unfailing source from which that commodity could be procured. Marvelous stories were told of him. Perhaps it was an inspiration, perhaps oraculous, but whatever may be

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the theory or explanation, it was a matter about which there was no dispute, that Uncle Joe was in some way gifted and full of knowledge in the matters of the graver sort.

Four young men who had been visiting the Medicine Springs near by, moved by curiosity and interested by the marvelous stories related of Uncle Joe, concluded to go to his home to see the venerable father — to hear his own words, to be prepared to form opinions, on all mooted points regarding him, for themselves. Regarding this as a trip of pleasure, they ascended the hill in a rolicsome and aggressive mood and presented themselves at his home. He was seated under a wide-spreading beech tree, which formed a veranda of leaves and shade in front of his house, smoking a long- stemmed pipe. As the four men came near the house they selected Mr. Robert Benton as their spokesman and imposed on him the duty of keeping memoranda of their interview. They approached with some degree of hesitation, but when near the house Uncle Joe arose with great dignity and received his visitors with such kindness that the faces of each of them seemed to say, "Sure enough, we have found the grand old man." Mr. Benton said, "We are told that you have resided here longer than any other person, and you know many things of people and facts concerning this community in the earlier years that are un-

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known to the great body of the inhabitants. Will you tell us something of your early life and something of the times and events through which you have passed?"

With great deliberation, Uncle Joe filled his pipe afresh and said: "Gentlemen, pray be seated. I am glad to see you, and am happy to relate anything that I may know of interest to you. In my old days I sit here much of the time, thinking of the past and future; about the present I do not have much concern, as I have something to live on, in my simple way, and have learned that a home here on this pleasant table-land among these friendly trees, and their more friendly warbling inhabitants, away from the miasma of the swamps, away from the sewer and other gases of towns and cities, away from the contagious diseases that thrive, and grow, and spread, and kill in crowded localities, away from the need of insurance (as there is no one living who would burn my home and I am not fool enough to burn it myself), is not a bad thing for an old man to possess, and affords innumerable comforts and advantages. But, I beg pardon, gentlemen, you requested that I tell something of myself and of the events of olden times, and did not expect my mind to wander to the highest hill and take a crack at broad creation.

"Now, as to myself. I lived with my mother

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and was an Indian in my mode of life until I was fourteen years of age, when the Great Spirit took her away from me and I was a lonely orphan boy. By her death I suffered the greatest loss that a human being ever sustained; but her influence has ever overshadowed me. My heart still loves her, and my prayer has ever been that the Great Spirit will guide me to her when I cross the River, for I know her arms are ever outstretched to receive me. When I was alone I played with the Indians, I lived with them, but I ever and earnestly wanted to be with the w^hite people. I never crossed or disagreed with my Indian friends, but helped them when I could, but when the proud Shawnees gradually left this country, I remained, and slowly emerged from the influence and associations of the free and happy Indian life to the more elevating influences of the white men and women. I read much; I learned much; and while I never inclined to return to my life with the Indians, still I loved them, and the many hardships that befell them seemed ever to rest heavily upon my soul, and I have helped the poor and helpless among them all these years.

An hundred times while hunting on the hill-tops, I have found myself gazing intently to the far west, childishly striving to penetrate the fogs of the Mississippi Valley, and imagining that away there, beside the western rivers — in the shades

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of the Rockies, I could see my people in their struggle for existence — in their struggle for bread; then, the reverie dispelled, I would turn away — my heart full of sadness — my eyes full of tears; and in their discouragements and defeats, in their wanderings and their intervals of happiness, my prayers for their welfare have ever ascended to the Great Spirit — their ow^n God — their own protecting Spirit.

"My younger life was spent much in the woods with the dogs and gun. The gun is usually the delight of a boy, but this sensation was more delightful to me than to boys general!}', because I had two dogs, each of whom seemed to understand that the special duty of protecting their young master rested solely upon him, and the additional fact that upon the departure of the Indian hunters the timber wolves grew very plentiful and could easily be found by the dogs. In addition to this, there was in me an intense intoxication in going to the woods and returning with a wolf as a troph}^ of the hunt. That I was elated over my success in hunting, is .not only true, but I fear that I sometimes permitted the spirit of triumph and exaltation to exceed the bounds of discretion. The truth was that I could go into the haunts of the wolves in a sense of security, because I knew those dogs would defend me as long as life remained in them. In my long life, I have never

JOSEPH PONTUS IS

had more courageous and faithful friends. When I am not hunting with the dogs, I remain at home and read a great deal and write to my Indian friends. I like books and keep many of them here on these shelves. While thus spending a day at home, I raised the window in the morning to let the fresh air in, and at noon I sat on the porch watching the men haul grain from the fields, and as the sun sank behind the western hills, I sat down at my table and wrote.

"THE* WHOLE DAY.

"Raise hig-h the eastern windows,

All hail the coming" day, Drink full the morning- freshness,

Gain life and health for aye.

It's life and strength to all, Rejoice in heaven's sweet boon time,

Earth's children — g-reat and small.

"Fare thee well, thou sinking- sun.

Night's shadows o'er thee creep, Inviting nature's common rest.

Heaven's gift to mankind — sleep."

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CHAPTER II, Lost River

Mr. Benton: "But, Mr. Pontus, we have heard so many speak of Lost River and have heard stories that sound queer to us, now what are we to understand about Lost River? Is there a river? Was it in fact lost, and how, and when, and where? If lost was it ever found?"

Mr. Pontus: "Gentlemen, Lost River is a reality and one of those geological freaks of nature, if I may use such a term, that is not easily explained. The facts are, plainly speaking, that a considerable stream whose waters are gathered in the northeastern part of the county flows in a southerly direction, and when it reaches a point south-east of Orleans, it finds a low, open piece of ground where it spreads out for a considerable distance after the fashion of a little lake, or perhaps a large pond, which is fringed with rough vegetable life, that finds nourishment in the low ground, and somehow — that is not perceptible to a casual observer — it sinks and gets out of the way, graduall3% but completely, out of the sight. It has found an opening that enables it to go somewhere and not return to the surface in that particular neighborhood; so that the river is lost. It has disappeared in an unknown way, has found a course of its own without consulting the wishes, or catering to the curiosity of the inhabitants.

"Now that is all it seems to do. You can not see it rush precipitately over a fall; you can not see it form a great whirlpool in which logs and debris keep whirling about and then make a mad rush down the center, reminding you of a diminutive maelstrom; you can not observe the exact point where the waters of Lost River make their descent. No, you stand there and look at the water as it spreads out before you, with weeds about the edges, with a quiet surface on the stream, with sticks of wood lying lazily on the surface of rather muddy water, and you likely see a squad of wild ducks 'summer resorting' on the pond, and that is all. But when we turn our eyes beyond the water, you see a distinct channel, say sixty feet wide, and from four to ten feet deep, leading away off before you. You follow the channel and find it distinct and well defined, and you then know that water, at one time, filled that now vacant river bed. Water fowl no doubt, loved that quiet, shady stream and loved to gather under the low branches of the overhanging trees and enjoy the shade, the coolness and strength arising from the clear, running water, and if there you may have heard the merry twittering, and even the louder bird-song notes, ringing out upon the morning air in such variety and volume as to render the scene unique and enjoyable. You can easily imagine light-running canoes gliding up and down the stream bearing pretty Indian girls

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on a visit to their neighbors. But, of course, I never saw these pleasant scenes, nor heard these cheery bird-songs, nor did I ever see those Indian girls; nor can I testify, from actual observation, that they were pretty, but when we can have things as we wish, when we are to have canoes, they can just as well be light and gliding as ordinary mud scows; the bird-songs might as well be clear, sweet and cheery as like the dull thug of the bull-frog; and as to those Indian girls, who would be willing to rave about untidy girls when we can as well imagine them to be artistic and pretty ones. I hope this sentiment will meet with the approval of all present."

Mr. Benton: "Yes, Mr. Pontus, it is agreed that those girls, if there were any, who rode in those canoes, if there were any canoes, were all pretty, with peach-blow cheeks, cherry lips, pearly teeth, with wild roses in their hair, and that they were singing the prettiest Indian love songs as they glided down that river bed now dryer than a horn."

Mr. Pontus: "That important point being definitely and satisfactorily settled, we will look up the channel of that river again or it will be lost as well as the river. This channel leads off toward the northwest and is usually easil}^ followed; but at points in the valley where the waters frequently rise and run sluggishly through the river bed, the channel is gradually being filled up and the banks gradually washed away; and these influences acting together have the effect of destroying the distinctness of the channel in many places. In can not be absolutely proven that the waters that disappeared in the pond aforesaid, ever again appear on the surface of the earth, but about ten or eleven miles distant from the point where the river disappears, where the little town of Orangeville is now located, a peculiar scene attracts attention. A great spring rushes from under the hill. A veritable river bursts from the hillside and flows away toward the ravine below. This affords the water supply for the whole town. The people on the hill above the spring have wires stretched from their homes to the spring, and on these wires buckets are hung on pulleys; they are run down to the spring, by their own weight, and when full are drawn up by a windlass; so the spring is being utilized by all the people of the town. Whence came these waters? Why is it that the channel of a river leads towards this great spring? What became of Lost River? Have its waters been hemmed in, in a great reservoir for ages, and where? What influences furnish the waters of this unusual fountain? Now consider these facts, viz:

''First. That a river without doubt, in the long ago, ran through that old river bed.

"Second. There is no other river near that could have run there but Lost River.

"Third. During the unusual freshets, when Lost River is very full, the water is forced up through the rocks near this river bed, miles distant from where the river disappears, and spreads over the land.

''Fourth. The abandoned river bed leads the way from the pond where the river disappeared towards the great spring that comes so unexpectedly from the hillside under the town.

"Fifth. The size of the river as compared with the volume of water in the spring, indicates that it is the same.

''Sixth. What becomes of the waters of Lost River which, during freshets, swell and rage and rush in great volume to some outlet, if they do not find their way to this spring?

"Seventh. Although the county abounds in many noted springs, many of them large, many of them what is known among the Indians as Medicine Springs, of great strength and beauty, as those of French Lick and West Baden, yet no one of them approaches m the volume of the water the great spring at Orangeville.

"These circumstances almost unerringly show that the same river that disappeared near Orleans and Paola is the same that now rushes with hurry and bustle from under the hill and chases on until it is lost in the south fork of the White River, thence to the Wabash — to the Ohio — to the Mississippi and the sea. For these reasons, the great spring is said to be the rise of Lost River and these reasons are regarded as satisfactory to the residents generally, and geologists and others who are versed in the knovs^ledge of the geological formations of Southern Indiana allege nothing that is inconsistent with this view. It is, therefore, concluded that Lost River has been found.

''The theory and explanation is, that that portion of the country is built upon great rocks; that the rocks have openings between them, and that one of these openings happened to be at the point where the river disappeared and that the water flows down and through and between the rocks and follows one or many subterranean water-ways until it is liberated from prison by bursting from under the hill in the great spring at Orangeville.

"Many stories are related of Lost River. It seems to have been a theme prolific of 'yarns' and stories of the shady sort. One story was that about a hundred fish, called Croppies, that were never known to inhabit Lost River, were liberated in the waters of Lost River where it descends into the unknown, and a net was set below the big spring at Orangeville and many of these fish were shortly thereafter caught in the net. Another story was that an Indian riding in a little canoe was caught in

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the sinking water and carried down and found a cavern where he was safe, but could not get out, and his friends tied food to a board and sent it into the river and kept him ahve, until they released him, a week later. Again it was said that a man who lived near the river killed his wife and the mob undertook to lynch him and that he, being well acquainted with the currents of Lost River, rushed into the lake, dove into the water and was never heard of again. Another story was that a lot of corks were thrown into Lost River, near the point of its going down, and that these corks were soon after found bobbing about in the spring where it bursts from under the hill near Orangeville. But I relate these stories with due consideration of the source whence they came and with such allowances and reservations as are proper when your friends relate what actually occurred when on their last fishing trip. "This section of the country Wcis generally heavily timbered, and the forests were so dense and the trees so tall that the ground, in the distance, was entirely obscured. Great oaks, poplars, burr-oaks, hickory, beech and other varieties grew in profusion and of prodigious size; more especially were they large about the springs and rivers and in the lower grounds. About the great Lost River spring these trees seemed to struggle to rear their wide-spreading tops above their fellows, to wave and play in the stronger winds above the general herd of trees. After the Indians had been defeated at Tippecanoe, the government stationed soldiers here and there to keep watch on the Indians and prevent another uprising. One company camped on the bluff east of Lost River Valley, and built a stockade of heavy logs, as a protection. About this time, tw^o gentlemen came from the south to use the waters of the Medicine Springs near the head of the valley, and to hunt for the big game, bear, deer, wolves and other wild animals, as well as wild turkeys in the neighboring hills. In their trips over the hills they came upon the Lost River Spring, and so delighted were they with the water and the surrounding scenery that they built a fire and camped there for the night, leaving their friends to discuss the probability of their being devoured by the timber wolves, so plentiful at that time. During their stay they would many times visit the great spring, cook their dinners there and rest themselves and their hunting dogs after the chase. "As soon as the snows of the following winter had disappeared, one of the gentlemen came back, hired men and built two large log houses with great porches to each of them, and arranged everything for the convenience of two families, to arrive on the first of June for the summer. Each of the families had grown children and as the

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daughters were educated and accomplished and in the very prime of young womanhood, it was not surprising that they should create a stir, approaching a sensation, in the neighborhood. It soon was 'the proper caper' to visit the newcomers at the spring. Mrs. Brown had the largest house in the neighborhood, and by general consent and her own inclination, the young people in the community would congregate at - Mrs. Brown's frequently to spend the evening and pass away the happy hours in the merry whirl of the genuine countr}^ dance — and between the dances Jack Hedges, w'ho was a great expert, would entertain the party by an exhibit of his 'single footer' accomplishments. What added zest and genuine enjoyment to these social gatherings was the fact that Mrs. Brown w^as happy to be able to oblige her young friends with these gatherings and everybody knew that fact. "Captain Howard Payne was with his company and was part of the army which was temporarily^ quartered among the bluffs on the side of the valle3\ To satisfy his curiosity, and moved by the wonderful tales he had heard of the spring, he mounted his horse and galloped along the winding road through the forest, crossing ravines and roaring creeks until he dismounted at the Lost River Spring. He stood for some minutes gazing in surprise and astonishment at the scene

LOST RIVER 25

before him. It seemed that a small river was bursting from the hillside. The spring was circular in form and about thirty feet in diameter. The water came with such force and profusion that it lashed the water from the other side of the spring and then rolled and tumbled toward the center in a noisy jumble, then hurried away toward the White River and was soon lost in the forest-shaded ravines aud gorges, on its way to the great Mississippi, and the sea. But the spell that controlled Captain Payne was now broken, for above the noise of the gurgling waters he heard the full, clear notes of a lady's voice, as sweet and free as the song of the wild birds of the mountain. By walking toward the other side of the spring, he saw a young lady resting on a rustic seat built on the roots of a great oak. Surprised, she arose quickly, her hat swinging by its ties in her hand and with wild flowers in her hair. The Captain lifted his soldier's hat in the severest soldierly manner and said ^Ah, Miss, good morning. I hope you will not consider me rude. 1 am a stranger in the neighborhood and came to see the spring. Are you the nymph of the spring?', She came toward him, saying, 'Oh, no, Captain, I live for the summer just there, at that house on the hillside and come here mornings to read and rest where I can hear the music of these cheery waters. Here is a cup if you would like

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to try the water; I imagine it is sweeter and clearer by this white rock,' and she filled the cup and handed it to him saying 'please excuse me, good morning.' This was accompanied by the most graceful little courtesy and she hurried along the path and soon disappeared in the vine-covered veranda of the summer house. The captain stood musing. 'What a lovely face — so expressive and sweet. Her voice so clear and joyous, and she so lithe, so tall, so graceful; and kind nature, so often partial, has united her powers with good health and sunshine to make her singularly attractive.

"What though the sun with ardent frown Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown

''Nevertheless she was altogether a beauty. She seemed to him like a wild flower of the mountain, the Goddess of the Spring. He adjnired the water, the tall trees, the great solitude of the surrounding forests. Trees of such marvelous growth and miles of them on every side; great high reaching oaks, and below the spring cypress trees of mammoth growth rearing their foliage-crowned tops far above their comrades. Such a brotherhood of giants! God's own great trees, — planted and pruned by Him alone! Near the head of the spring, stood a stalwart oak, towering far above its brothers, — an acknowledged monarch in this home of giants.

"The captain rode home in a thoughtful mood.

The spring, the surrounding forest and all else were simply thrown aside and forgotten, in thoughts of that unknown one; that vision of beauty and loveliness that had in so short a time captivated his mind and enraptured his heart. That night he felt as if he must return the next day to the spring; such rudeness and impropriety, however, could not be tolerated, but how could he see her? He did not even know her name. He then recollected that he had been invited to attend a ball at Mrs. Brown's a few evenings hence, at which he had been told the beauty and culture of the neighborhood would be assembled. Would the girl at the spring be there? The Captain had been urgently invited to attend the ball and did so. His tall and comely figure, and his faultless military uniform, gave him dash and almost princely bearing. Among the gentlemen in attendance no one presented a more noble and manly bearing than he. The Captain scrutinized the guests as they appeared with great eagerness until one particular guest came in. He was introduced by the hostess and secured her for several dances. He found her name to be Miss Elsie Argo. His hostess said to him that she hoped he would like her, 'as she is certainly one of our prettiest girls, and is the acknowledged intellectual star of the vicinity.' Thrills, throbs and palpitations are tame words