The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1914-03-19

the old church on the hillside above
Fishing Creek was at that time in
charge of the Rev. William Davis, a
venerable and devoted minister of the
Presbyterian church and the beloved
friend and counsellor of those simple,
God-fearing people. 1t was said OF
him that he wore a hunting shirt
and carried his musket in the pulpit
and stood it beside him while he
preached. He was the grandfather
of the Rev. William Davis, who at
one time was pastor Of Beersheba
church and who is buried in Beershe-
ba cemetery.
But to return to the story. One
night while going down the path to
the spring for water, Barbara saw
two Indians slip into the old stone
malt house and close the door after
them. She knew that they had seen
her and that they were intending to
hide until she went by when they
would spring out and kill her. With
the greatest GOODNESS she deliberately
yended her way down the path to the
spring swinging her water pail, and
humming an old Puritan hymn. When
she reached the old malt house she
'sprang to the door and had it Sc
curely' bolted with its strong wooden
bolt before the Indians knew what
she was about. She had to keep
them prisoners in the malt house for
several days before she succeeded in
getting rid of them.
In the home hers were the hands
that kept the fire burning on the
hearth all the long dreary winter,
and when the house was barred and
bolted at night, to keep out foes
that were expected at all times, she
would spend long hours molding bull
lets for some of Mariion's men, for
her father and her brothers, or per-
haps for her sweetheart-for after
the dark days were passed, she mar
ried a kinsman of hers, David Nc
Kinney, who had distinguished him
self in the service of Marion.
Barbara had been brought up un-
der the influence of old Uncle Billy
Davis's predestination creeds, and
was orthodox in her belief that every
dispensation of Providence was fore
ordained. She often expressed her
self to the effect that if she was born
to be killed by Indians she would
never be drowned in Fishing Creek.
Hair breadth escapes from Indians
seemed to have had fascination for
her. She had challenged them so
often and escaped so successfully that
she had become reckless in riskins
her ability of ingenuity in outwit-
ting them.
The day came when there was no
bread. They had scraped the bottom
of the meal barrel. To obtain more
meant a five-miles' ride across the
country swarming with a cruel and
barbarous enemy. 1t looked like
empting Providence to leave the shell
ter of the house, when G ~ the day
before alarming reports had been
circulated of several depredations
committed by Indians in the settle
ment. But, there was no one to
come to their rescue. She had been
to the mill scores of times before
and was not afraid to go again. SO
nothing daunted, she prepared her
sack of corn the night before, and
before daylight brought her mare
from it's hiding place in thlcket
nearby, mounted it and with her old
flintlock musket across her lap, start
ed for the mill. AS she rode away
on that perilous errand, who would
not have admired her courageous
spirit-her certainty of accomplish
ment?
She had not been gone more than
an hour and had just forded the
creek when a band of Indians rush
ed from the underground where they
! had been hidden and springing upon
her, pulled her from her mare, and
wrenched her musket from her hands
Then the long, sharp scalping knife
glittered in the morning sun and she
knew no more. After scalplng he1
and leaving her for dead on the banks
of the creek, they took the mare
and sack of corn and fed. Barbara
did not revive until hours afterWard
She crawled off into the woods and
hid herself in thicket where all that
long, hot summer day she lay thirst
ing for water and almost dead.
+ When night came on she left hel
hiding place, slipped to the creek and
washed the blood from her hands and