surprised and cowed by the courage of Mrs. Godfrey that they never came
back to look after the wounded squaw, or sent to inquire whether she was
living or dead.

As soon as the old squaw began to recover, Mrs. Godfrey found out that
the old woman could speak some English. She said she was a widow about
sixty years old. That her husband had been killed at Fort Pitt in 1763.
Her only son had been taken prisoner by the English at Fort Pitt, and
had afterwards remained nine moons with an English officer in New York.
The officer went away to England and wanted her son to go with him, but
on the eve of the officer's departure he ran away, soon got on the trail
of his mother, and at last found her at Detroit living with a band of
Iroquois. Not long afterward she and her boy wandered from post to post
and camp to camp until they at last got over among the tribe on the St.
John, where they had made their home among a strange tribe for the past
two years. Her son did not respect the tribe with whom they lived. He
had often told her that these Indians were not pure bloods. Her son was
sixteen years old when taken prisoner at Fort Pitt. She had always been
called Mag, but when any of the tribe addressed her, it was by the not
very respectful addition of "Old Mag." Her boy had gone toward the
setting sun to be with a party of English officers on a hunting
excursion, he had left her in September and would not return for some
moons.

Captain Godfrey and his family rested in comparative peace for some
weeks, and Mrs. Godfrey drew from Old Mag many stories respecting the
manner of life among the various tribes of American Indians.

About one month after the old squaw had been captured, she began to
appear exceedingly dull and dispirited. The Captain's wife said to her