The Forrest City times., 1895-11-08
LEGEND OF INDIAN HILL.
BY JESSIE M. TRISTAN.

There is no more picturesque region in the state of West Virginia than that through which flows the little stream known as Indian river. Its valley is green and fertile, broadening as the stream approaches its outlet, the mighty Ohio, and hemmed in by chains of rugged hills.
 The stream derives its name from the fact that, prior to the time of the first white settlers, this valley was d favor ite hunting ground of many Indian tribes of the Ohio valley Traces of their occupancy still remain The farmer yet upturns the ashes of their campfres and their implements of war with his plowshare. And, on a hill overlooking the river not far from it's mouth, are the graves of many of the race.
 Most of the traditions have long since been forgotten, but one concerning this spot is still preserved. Once in the early days of the white settlement, a large party of Indians came into the valley to hunt, and one night encamped on Indian hill. That night band of unprincipled white men fell upon their unguarded camp, and massacred the entire party. Not one escaped to tell the story of the murder. The chief, a warrior, who had always shown great friendship for the whites, was taken mortally wounded before the leader of the attacking party. With the dignity of his race, he raised his head, and looked with scorn into the faces of his captors. Then with his last breath, he invoked a curse upon each of them-a death by violence.
 So goes the legend. There remains to prove it's truth the hill, whose stony soil stubbornly refuses to yield any crop but desolate patches of broomsedge and few stunted cedar shrubs-the effect of the curse, the country people say. The same authorities tell us that there on stormy nights the old chief may be seen walking among the graves of his warriors And he who sees the ghostly sentinel is sure soon to meet with some misfortune.
 The owner of the soil of this historic spot was a wealthy farmer named Ford. His title deeds covered many acres of fertile valley and valuable forest land. But he had one possession which was dearer to him than field and woodland bis daughter Winnie.
 Winnie was 8 pretty and rather spoiled young woman of eighteen. Since the death of her mother, few years before, she had been practically her own mistress, for her father never crossed her will either concerning her own affairs or those of the household. It is not strange, therefore, that Miss Winnie was somewhat proud and will ful. Many country youth sadly real ized this, and from distance admired the heiress of the Ford acres
 All but one; that one was Bobb Carr, the only son of neighboring farmer, whose land joined Mir. Ford's, and almost equaled it in extent. Bob was a tail and awkward youth of twenty one, with an incipient mustache and plenty of conceit. He was desperately in love with Winnie. The frequent snubbings he received did not quench his ardor in the least. Besides, Bob was encouraged by the knowledge that Mir. Ford favored his suit. For the farmer, having in mind the consolida- tion of the two largest farms in the valley, really considered Bob a good match for his daughter.
 'See here" he said to her one day. If that young Carr comes here to see