[5.1] When we arrived at Genishau [Genesee river area, now in NY State], the Indians of that tribe were making active preparations for joining the French, in order to assist them in retaking Fort Ne-a-gaw (as Fort Niagara was called in the Seneca language) from the British [see map locating Fort Niagara above] . . . . They marched off the next day after our arrival, painted and accoutred [clothed] in all the habiliments [outfits] of Indian warfare, determined on death or victory . . . . The British, feeling themselves secure in the possession of Fort Neagaw . . . determined to take Fort Schlosser, lying a few miles up the river from Neagaw, which they expected to effect [achieve] with but little loss. Accordingly a detachment of soldiers, sufficiently numerous . . . marched off . . . .

[5.2] But on their way they were surrounded by the French and Indians, who lay in ambush to deceive them, and were driven off the bank of the river into a place called the "Devil's Hole" . . . . Not a single man escaped being driven off, and of the whole number one only was fortunate enough to escape with his life. Our Indians were absent but a few days, and returned in triumph, bringing with them two white prisoners, and a number of oxen. Those were the first neat [domesticated?] cattle that were ever brought to the Genesee flats.

[5.3] The next day after their return to Genishau, was set apart as a day of feasting and frolicking, at the expense of the lives of their two unfortunate prisoners*, on whom they purposed to glut their revenge, and satisfy their love for retaliation upon their enemies.  . . . some time in the month of November, 1759. [*Iroquois ritually tortured prisoners.]

[5.4] I spent the winter comfortably, and as agreeably as I could have expected to, in the absence of my kind husband. Spring at length appeared, but Sheninjee was yet away; summer came on, but my husband had not found me. Fearful forebodings haunted my imagination; yet I felt confident that his affection for me was so great that if he was alive he would follow me and I should again see him. In the course of the summer, however, I received intelligence [information] that soon after he left me at Yiskahwana he was taken sick and died at Wiishto. This was a heavy and an unexpected blow. I was now in my youthful days left a widow, with one son, and entirely dependent on myself for his and my support. My mother and her family gave me all the consolation in their power, and in a few months nay grief wore off and I became contented.

[5.5] In a year or two after this, according to my best recollection of the time, the King of England offered a bounty to those who would bring in the prisoners that had been taken in the war, to some military post where they might be redeemed and set at liberty.

[5.6] John Van Sice, a Dutchman, who had frequently been at our place, and was well acquainted with every prisoner at Genishau, resolved to take me to Niagara, that I might there receive my liberty and he the offered bounty. I was notified of his intention; but as I was fully determined not to be redeemed at that time, especially with his assistance, I carefully watched his movements in order to avoid falling into his hands. It so happened, however, that he saw me alone at work in a cornfield, and thinking probably that he could secure me easily, ran towards me in great haste. I espied him at some distance, and well knowing the amount of his errand, run from him with all the speed I was mistress of, and never once stopped . . . . He gave up the chase, and returned: but I, fearing that he might be lying in wait for me, stayed three days and three nights in an old cabin at Gardow, and then went back trembling at every step for fear of being apprehended. I got home without difficulty; and soon after, the chiefs in council having learned the cause of my elopement [escape], gave orders that I should not be taken to any military post without my consent; and that as it was my choice to stay, I should live amongst them quietly and undisturbed. . . .

[5.7] When my son Thomas was three or four years old, I was married to an Indian, whose name was Hiokatoo, commonly called Gardow, by whom I had four daughters and two sons. I named my children, principally, after my relatives, from whom I was parted, by calling my girls Jane, Nancy, Betsey and Polly, and the boys John and Jesse. Jane died about twenty-nine years ago, in the month of August, a little before the great Council at Big-Tree, aged about fifteen years. My other daughters are yet living, and have families.