Mrs. Dana took with her in her flight a pillowcase of valuable papers--her husband being engaged in public business; and the preservation of these has thrown light on the path of research. The names of a hundred others, who shared that memorable flight, might be mentioned; but these are sufficient.
In the enemy's ranks, some of the women were foremost in the work of carnage. Esther, the queen of the Seneca tribe of Indians--a fury in female form--it is said, took upon herself the office of executioner, passing with her tomahawk round the circle of prisoners, counting with a cadence, and sinking the weapon into the heads of the victims. In the journal of one of Sullivan's officers, her plantation is described--an extensive plain near the Susquehanna, where she dwelt in sullen retirement.
The story of the captivity of Frances Slocum has some romantic interest. Her father was a member of the Friends' Society, and having always been kind to the Indians, was at first left unmolested; but when they learned that one of his sons had been in the battle, the family was marked out for sure vengeance. A shot, and cry of distress, one day summoning Mrs. Slocum to the door, she saw an Indian scalping a lad to whom, with his brother, her husband had given a home, their father being taken prisoner. The savages soon after entered the house, seized her little boy, Ebenezer, and when the mother interposed to save the child, caught up her daughter Frances, about five years old, and fled swiftly to the mountains. This was within a hundred rods of Wilkesbarre fort; but, though the alarm was instantly given, the Indians eluded pursuit, and no trace of their retreat could be discovered.
The cup of vengeance was not yet full--the father being afterwards murdered. The widowed mother heard nothing of her lost child, though peace came in time, and prisoners returned. When intercourse with Canada was opened, two of her sons, then among the most intelligent and enterprising young men in the valley, determined, if living, to find their sister, and connecting business with their search, traversed the Indian settlements, and went as far as Niagara. But vain were their inquiries and offered rewards; and the conclusion seemed probable that she had been killed by her merciless captors. Still the fond mother saw the lost one in her dreams, and her soul clung to the hope of recovering her daughter, as the great and engrossing object of her life. At length a girl was found, who had been carried away captive from Susquehanna River, and could not remember her parents. She was brought to Mrs. Slocum's home; but the mysterious sympathy which exists between a mother and her offspring did not draw them together. Mrs. Slocum could not believe the orphan to be her own child, and the girl, feeling a persuasion that she had no claim of relationship, at length returned to her Indian friends.