worker, the Ulunsuti. Now this was an object greatly to be desired, but the quest was fraught with the most deadly peril. The prize in question was a blazing star set in the forehead of the great Uktena serpent, and the medicine man who could possess it might do marvelous things, but every one knew that it was almost certain death to meet the Uktena. They warned him of all this, but he only answered that he was not afraid, for his medicine was strong. So they gave him his life on condition that he find the coveted charm, and he began the search. The Uktena used to lie in wait in lonely places to surprise its victims, and especially haunted the dark passes of the Great Smoky Mountains. Knowing this, the magician went first to a gap in the range on the far northern borders of the Cherokee country; and here he searched until he found a monster black snake, larger than any one had ever before seen, but it was not what he wanted, and he only laughed at it as something too small to be noticed. Coming southward to the next gap he found there a great moccasin snake, the largest ever seen, but when the people wondered he said it was nothing. In the next gap he found an immense green snake and called the people to see "the pretty salikawayi," but when they found an immense green snake coiled up in the path they ran away in fear. Coming to Bald Mountain, he found there a great lizard, basking in the sun, but although it was large and terrifying to look at, it was not what he wanted, and he passed on. Going still further south to Walasiyi, he found a great frog squatting in the gap, but when the people who came to see it were frightened like the others and ran away from the monster, he mocked at them for being afraid of a frog and went on to the Gap of the Forked Antler and to the enchanted lake of Atagahi. At each place he found monstrous reptiles; but he said they were nothing. He thought the Uktena might be in hiding in deep water at the Leech place, on Hiawassee, where other strange things had been seen before, and going there he dived far down under the surface. He saw turtles and water snakes, and two immense sun perches rushed at him and retreated again, but there was nothing more. Still going southward, he continued to try other places, and at last on Gahuti Mountain he found the Uktena asleep.

Turning without noise, he ran swiftly down the mountainside as far as he could go with one long breath, nearly to the bottom of the slope. There he stopped and piled up a great circle of pine cones, and inside of it he dug a deep trench. Then he set fire to the cones and came back again up the mountain. The Uktena was still asleep, and, putting an arrow to his bow, Agan-unitsi shot and sent the arrow through its heart, which was under the seventh spot from the serpent's head. The great snake arose and, with the diamond in front flashing fire, came straight at its enemy, but the magician, turning quickly, ran at full speed down the mountain, cleared the circle of fire and the trench at one bound, and lay down on the ground inside. The Uktena tried to follow, but the arrow was through its heart, and in another moment it rolled over in the death struggle, spitting poison over all the mountain. side. But the poison drops could not cross the circle of fire, but only hissed and sputtered in the blaze, and the magician on the inside was untouched except by one small drop which struck upon his head as he lay close to the ground; but he did not know it. The blood, too, as

poisonous as the froth, poured from the Uktena's wound and down the slope in a dark stream, but it ran into the trench and left him unharmed. The dying monster rolled over and over down the mountain, breaking down large trees in its path, until it reached the bottom. Then Agan-unitsi called every bird in all the woods to come to the feast, and so many came that when they were done not even the bones were left.

After seven days he went by night to the spot. The body and the bones of the snake were gone, all eaten by the birds, but he saw a bright light shining in the darkness, and going over to it he found, resting on a low-hanging branch, where a raven had dropped it, the diamond from the head of the Uktena. He wrapped it up carefully and took it with him to the Cherokees, among whom he became the greatest medicine Iman in the whole tribe. Where the blood of the Uktena had filled the trench, there was afterwards formed a lake, the water of which was black, and here the women came to dye the cane splits which were used in making baskets.*

IX

THE ENCHANTED MOUNTAIN

Ten miles north of the Blue Ridge chain, of which it forms a spur, is the Enchanted Mountain, so called from the great number of tracks or impressions of the feet and hands of various animals to be found in the rocks. The main chain of mountains is about fifteen miles broad, forming the great natural barrier between the eastern and western waters, and the average elevation is about 4,000 feet above the Atlantic level. The number of well-defined tracks is 136, some of them quite natural and perfect, others rather rude imitations, and all of them, from the effects of time, have become more or less obliterated. They include the outlines of human feet, ranging from those of the infant, some four inches in length, to those of the great warrior, the latter measuring 171⁄2 inches in length and 734 in breadth across the toes. And, rather strange to say, all the human feet are perfectly normal except this large one, on which there are six toes, proving the owner to have been a descendant of Titan. There are twenty-six of these human impressions, all bare save one, which presents the appearance of having been made by moccasins. A fine-turned hand, rather delicate, may be traced in the rocks near the foot of the great warrior. It was no doubt made by his faithful squaw, who accompanied him on all his excursions, sharing his toils and soothing his cares. Many horse tracks are also to be seen. One seems to have been shod. Some are quite small, yet one measures 12x91⁄2 inches. This, the Indians say, was the great war horse which was ridden by the chieftain. The tracks of numerous turkeys, turtles, and terrapins are likewise to be seen. And there is also a large bear's paw, a snake, and two deer.

* James Mooney, in "Myths of the Cherokee,' House Documents, Vol. 118.

The Indian traditions respecting these singular impressions are somewhat variant. One asserts that the world was once deluged by water, and all forms of life were destroyed, with the exception of one family, together with various animals necessary to replenish the earth; that the great canoe once rested upon this spot; and that here the whole troop of animals was disembarked, leaving the impressions as they passed over the rocks, which, being softened by long submersion, kindly received and retained them. Others believe that a very sanguinary conflict took place here at a very remote period, between the Creeks and Cherokees, and that these images or hieroglyphics were made to commemorate the fierce encounter. They say that it always rains wher one visits the spot, as if sympathetic nature wept at the recollection of the sad catastrophe, which they were intended to commemorate. According to a later tradition, it is the sanctuary of the Great Spirit, who is so provoked by the presumption of man in attempting to approach the throne of Divine Majesty that he commands the elements to proclaim. his power and indignation by awful thunderings and lightnings, accompanied by down-pours of rain, so that his subjects might be kept in awe of him and constrained to venerate his attributes.

On the morning of the 3d of September, 1834, our party left the Nacoochee Valley, for the purpose of verifying these traditions, which for the last half century have created so much curious interest in the minds of speculative philosophers.

At 6 o'clock we arrived at the summit of the mountain. As we approached it, the heavens, which, for several days and nights preceding had worn a brightened countenance, began to scowl and threaten; we advanced in haste to the foot of the rock and spread out our breakfast on the "table of stone," poured out a libation to appease the wrath of Jupiter, drank a few appropriate sentiments, and then, with chisel and hammer, commenced the resurrection of one of the tracks. Though I claim to possess as little superstition as any one, I could not suppress a strange sensation of wonder, in fact, almost a conviction that here a sanguinary and long-contested battle had at one time been fought, for around us were piled huge heaps of loose rock, seemingly in veneration for the heroic dead. The tradition being so completely fulfilled, rather astonished me; for no sooner did we arrive on consecrated ground than it began to threaten rain, and the first stroke of the hammer in the sacrilegious act of raising the track of a human being evoked a loud peal of thunder; the clouds continued to thicken and condense, attended by the most vivid flashes of lightning; and soon a deluge of rain was precipitated upon our offending heads. I continued, however, to labor incessantly, until I succeeded in disintegrating the impression of a youth's foot, which I carefully wrapped up and then sounded a retreat, still, however, looking back toward the sepulchres of the slain, in momentary expectation of seeing a legion of exasperated ghosts issuing forth to take vengeance on the infidel who would presume to disturb the sacred relics of the dead. As soon as we passed the confines of the mountain, the rain ceased, the sun broke out, and all nature resumed her cheerful aspect. At night we encamped upon the summit of the Blue Ridge, and after partaking of refreshments we retired to rest.

The rock upon which these impressions were found is an imperfect

sort of soapstone, which more than any other circumstance, induced us to believe that it was a production of art. After excessive fatigue and no little danger, we were now ready to return home, but before descending the long slope we paused to feast our enraptured eyes upon one of the most magnificent panoramas to be found on the North American continent. To the north and west, range after range of lofty mountains rise by regular graduations, one above another, until they are lost in the azure mists. On the east is Tray, peering above the clouds, and giving rise to several mighty rivers, while southward, in the distance, rising proudly pre-eminent above the surrounding battlements, is the majestic figure of Old Yonah.*

X

THE BURNT VILLAGE: A TALE OF THE INDIAN WARS

The Burnt Village lies six or eight miles west of LaGrange, in the County of Troup, on the west bank of the Chattahoochee River, where the great Wehadka Creek empties its limpid waters into the tawny stream. Previous to the year 1793, it was the great central point of the Muscogee Nation, the crossing-place of all the trading and marauding parties west of the Chattahoochee, where the untamed savages planned those nocturnal attacks upon the helpless and unprotected dwellers on the outskirts of the white settlements, by which consternation and dismay were spread throughout the land. On account of the sparse population of the country, at this time, the settlers, for mutual protection, were forced to concentrate in forts, hastily improvised upon the borders. It was the place where many a scalp, perchance of some bright-eyed youth or maiden, had been the cause of deep savage exultation, as the warrior in triumph would exhibit the blood-stained trophies and describe to the half-astonished women and children of the forest the dying shrieks and screams of the slaughtered victims.

It was after one of these predatory excursions of the Creek Indians into the settlements of the whites-and the ashes of many a building served to mark the path of desolation-that other plans of murder and plunder had been arranged, for the warriors of the nation had assembled at the little town of which we are speaking, to the number of several hundred,to celebrate the Green Corn Dance, which was a custom among them, and to take the Black Drink, an ablution deemed necessary to reconcile the Great Spirit to the enterprise in which they were about to engage.

But there was an irony of fate in these grim orgies. For, even while the conspirators were preparing themselves for the expected feast of crime, a few hundred men, under the command of Colonel M. and Major Adams, who had volunteered and resolved to strike a blow at the heart of the nation, arrived within a few miles of the river, and they were

* Doctor Stevenson, of Dahlonega. Reproduced, with slight variations, from an old scrap-book.

Vol. II-2

only waiting for the sun to sink, before crossing the Chattahoochee. Night came, and they were still halted in silence on the bank of the river opposite the Indian town. All was hushed and still as death; not a sound was heard, save the savage yell and war-whoop of the Indian, with occasionally a monotonous war-song, bursting forth amid the revelry, in which all ages and sexes seemed to join. The moon had commenced to shed a dim light through the overhanging clouds, and the water, breaking over the rocks, had the appearance of the ghosts of the murdered whites, entreating their brethren upon the bank to take signal vengeance, or else admonishing them of great danger; and many were those who heard strange sounds in the air-deep mournings and screams of "Beware." But there was amongst them one who was unappalled. The night was far spent, and the noise from the other bank had ceased-the voice of the wearied Indian was hushed and still-all had sunk to rest, or the little army had been discovered. It was a solemn pause. But time was precious, and the blow must be struck, or all was lost.

Some one suggested to the officers that they cross the river and ascertain the situation of the Indians, so as to be able to lead the little band to certain triumph. Colonel M. declined the hazardous enterprise. Major Adams resolved to go. He sought a companion for the perilous passage across the stream; but he had nearly despaired of finding one who would volunteer to share his dangers, when a rather small and somewhat feeble man, whose name was Hill, advanced from the ranks and proposed to accompany him on the trip. The two men set out together; but the force of the current soon overpowered the brave Hill, and swept him down the stream. Major Adams sprang to his relief, and at the imminent hazard of his own life, rescued his friend from a watery grave; with his athletic arm he buffeted the rapid current, and bore the exhausted Hill to the bank which they had left. He then set out alone. The ford which he had to cross was narrow and difficult. Moreover, it lay over rocks and shoals, sometimes knee-deep, then up to the neck. Near the middle of the stream was an island, and the trunks and limbs of old trees which had drifted upon the island seemed, by the dim light of the moon shining through clouds, to be so many savages ready to pounce upon him; but with a firm step Major Adams proceeded, and soon reached the bank in safety.

The town was situated on the edge of the river swamp, about 300 yards from the water, and so numerous and intricate were the paths leading in every direction from the ford into the swamp, and the darkness produced by the thick underbrush was so great, that when he reached the hill or dry land, he discovered by the fire, around which the Indians had held their revels, shooting up occasionally a meteoric blaze, that he was far below the point at which he aimed. Bending his course cautiously along the margin of the swamp, he soon reached the border of the town; an Indian dog seemed to be the only sentinel; and after a few half growls and barkings, as though he had but dreamed, sunk away into perfect quiet. In a few moments he was in the center of the town. Besides those in the cabins, there lay stretched upon the ground in every direction, hundreds of warriors, with rifles and tomahawks in hand; the earth was literally covered with them.