In 1792, when the country in this vicinity was clothed in its swaddlings of nature, and the red man and wild beasts alone trod the hills and valleys west of the Ocmulgee, a solitary huntsman was wending his way north, south of the Towaliga, about where the public road to Forsyth is now being turnpiked. The party was a model of his class—large, muscular, completely equipped, a frame strong in its every development, and a general contour which indicated that he knew nothing of fear, and dreaded not the dangers of the wilderness in which he was traveling. A deep melancholy on his face, the flashing of his dark eyes, and an occasional sight, evidenced he carried an "iron in his soul," and was actuated by a purpose that knew no turning. This was Gabriel Dunlap—a Georgian. His object in thus absenting himself from society will be seen hereafter.

Dunlap was a careful and wary hunter, and in this hitherto untrodden field was specially on the alert. He knew that dangers lurked around, and was cautious at every step. While thus walking and watching, he was startled by the war whoop of the savages, which seemed to burst from every ambush around him. He knew his retreat was cut off, for a hundred savages emerged from the thickets lining the Towaliga. Therefore, but one course was left to be pursued—that of taking a due north direction. Leaving the river and crossing the hills, he ran without any purpose beyond making his escape. And thus he ran for miles—as the yells of his pursuers would subside, hope bracing him up, again depressed by the reiteration of the voices of his enemies. At length, when almost ready to fall from exhaustion and thirst—his vitals scorched as with fire—hope whispered "a little farther." And soon, overjoyed and exhausted, he was able to spring into a canebrake dark as night, where he slept unconscious of anything that occurred around him.

Reinforcements.

When he awoke, yet half dreaming, Dunlap gazed about him some time before he could "realize the situation." With great effort he arose, staggered forward, but fell against a larger stone, and here, to his delight, he heard the trickling of water. Quickly he sought to slake his burning thirst, and soon found, and enjoyed, what seemed ice water in a canebrake in August. He drank until every desire for water was satisfied, yet none of the unpleasant feelings that often follow such indulgence were experienced. On the contrary, he felt new life and vigor, and set out to place a greater distance between himself and his enemies. His only safe course he knew, was to travel in a northerly direction, and, after imbibing another copious draught from the welcome fountain, he set out, toiling through the cane that covered the bottom. When he was about reaching the northern edge of this dense retreat, a well known signal greeted his ear. To this he responded. His response was replied to by another signal, when he quickly emerged from the brake, ascended the hill; and on approaching a large oak then standing on the site of the present Elder Hotel, was greeted thus:

"Hallo, Gabe! whar did you cum from? Have you been squattin' in the thicket yonder?"

"I'll be smashed," answered Dunlap, "If here aint Jube Cochran. And, Jube, I'm gladder to see you than if I had knocked out a panther's eye with old Betsey here, and without picking her flint, on a two hundred yard line. Cause why—I'm lost and aint nowhar ef you aint some place."

And next the two friends met with a hearty shake of hands and a union of warm hearts, such as conventionalities and civilization have long since driven from the brightest spot in Georgia. The huntsmen refreshed the inner man, recounted their several recent adventures, and then sought a place of rest, which they soon found among the rocks skirting the river.

Here they slept until midnight, when the report of a gun aroused them. Snuffing danger in the breeze, they at once not only became watchful, but sought to discover the whereabouts of their daring neighbor; and finally, in the darkness, almost ran against two human forms, whether paleface or Indian they could not make out, when Cochran hailed:

"Who's thar?"

"Watson," was the reply, and soon there was another happy greeting; when all four of the party (one a small boy named Ben Fitzpatrick) walked to the top of the hill between two creeks, and again rested until day break, reciting the customary yarns of the border.

Douglas Watson was about eighteen years of age, six feet in height, and boasted of possessing a well developed muscular frame. His companion, Fitzpatrick, was an orphan boy, who had the temerity common to adventurous youth to follow Watson in these wilds.

Seated by their camp fire Dunlap explained to Watson the invigorating effect the water in the canebrake, at the foot of the hills, had had upon him in his fainting condition the day previous, when the whole party again sought the cooling spring, and, after search, found it. This was Indian Spring, and this was the first party of whites who are known to have drunk of its water. At this gathering Watson admitted to his comrades that about a month previous he had found the spring, but in consequence of its smelling like gunpowder he fled the vicinity.

Watson and Cochran were scouts, sent out by the Government in the Spring of 1792. Fitzpatrick was the shadow of Watson; and Dunlap divulged to his new friends his history and mission while they lingered around the spring.

Dunlap's History.

To be brief: Twelve years previous, during an Indian raid in Bibb County, a little friend—a ward of his father—was stolen and carried away. Then and there, ere the triumphant yells of the foe were silenced, he had registered an oath in Heaven, which was baptized by the falling rain, never again to seek peace until he found it in the rescue of "Bright Eyes"—his lost Nora. Since that hour his home had been between the Towaliga and Ocmulgee, and his whole exertion was to find the lost one and restore her to her friends.

A Battle and Retreat.

In the morning the party left the Spring, traveling down stream, but in a few moments the shoals were reached. Here was another mystery, which to Watson appeared more wonderful than did the gunpowder spring. They had traveled down stream; of this they were certain; yet they encountered an opposite current, and were amazed. Fitzpatrick, however, soon explored the vicinity and discovered the meeting of the waters near the Spring. Here two creeks, running in almost opposite directions, met fraternally and formed the Big Sandy, which then flowed in an easterly direction until it united with the Ocmulgee.

Crossing at the foot of the shoals, the party started down the stream, hunting and traveling leisurely. Noon found them at a little spring near the present site of Tanner's bridge, where they halted, kindled a fire, and prepared to cook the choice bits of game they had secured. Here they were again doomed to be disappointed; for suddenly their foe burst upon them in overwhelming numbers. The odds were fearful, but rather than surrender—which would have been death—the contest was entered upon.

Many heroes whose names emblazon the pages of history never exhibited the coolness and calculating courage of Ben Fitzpatrick in his first battle. He stood fearlessly by the side of his companions, fighting bravely until Cochran fell senseless, having been struck by the war club of an Indian. As the Indian stooped to scalp his victim, Ben plunged his hunting knife to his heart, and, when the brave uttered his death yell, the boy attempted to remove his wounded comrade. At this moment young Watson handed Ben his gun, gathered up Cochran, and crying out "Now is our time, Ben," ran through the creek into the dark swamp beyond.

They were now safe, for deep darkness had fallen, and their enemies feared to pursue them. Cochran recovered during the night, but diligent search failed to ascertain anything as to the fate of Dunlap; and, warned by the signal smokes of the enemy, the trio started early next morning for the nearest block-house east of the Ocmulgee.

Dunlap and Nora.

But Dunlap was not lost. He was shot through the left shoulder when the attack was first made, fainted and fell, and was scalped and left for dead. He lay hours, until nightfall—half waking, half sleeping and dreaming. Suddenly he felt a soft hand bathing his fevered head. He knew this kindness came not from savage hands, nor from the rough goodness of a fellow huntsman, for the sweetness of an angel's breath fanned his face. Pain was forgotten, yet he was afraid to move lest the charm should be broken and the vision vanish. Half unconscious, he whispered, as if by inspiration, "Nora." And the guardian angel hovered about him proved to be the Nora for whom he had been searching. She suppressed an involuntary scream as she recognized the object of her compassion, and, laying her hand on the face of her old friend, in a trembling voice said:

"Oh! my more than brother, have we met at last, after so many long and weary years of separation, each of which has seemed an eternity?"

The recognition was mutual, but the meeting was too happy, too full of sacred joy, to be intruded upon. The wounds of Dunlap were carefully bound up by Nora, after the fashion of her companions from girlhood, and they at once removed as far as possible from the vicinity of the fight. They were not discovered the next morning and then commenced a long and weary journey homeward, which extended through many days. At last they saw the curling smoke arising from their native cabin. Here the long lost were greeted with joy, and at an early day there was a wedding—Dunlap and Nora were united, and at once settled down to the realities of life.

In 1796, fearing other molestations from the savages, who were then hostile to the whites, the Dunlap family sold their lands in Bibb and removed to Liberty County, Georgia, where, at the present time, many of their children's children may be found occupying high social positions.

Fate of Our Heroes.

The boy, Ben Fitzpatrick, grew up to manhood in company with his friend, Watson. Subsequently he removed to Montgomery, Ala., where he died a short time since. His career in his adopted State was an honored one, he having served in both branches of the National Congress and as Governor of the State. Governor Fitzpatrick was a cousin of Mrs. Cynthia Varner, of Indian Spring. After the Indians were removed from this section, Douglas Watson settled in Monroe County, where he resided until his decease, which occurred a few years ago. Of the career of Cochran we have been unable to obtain any data.

The foregoing history of the discovery of Indian Spring by the whites is not all fiction. It is an "o'er true tale." "Duggie" Watson, the hero of the foregoing pages—he who feared the smell of gunpowder when he first looked upon the halfhidden spring, and fled—has often repeated the history as we have given it in our hearing.

Early Settlement.

The Indians entertained a superstition that it would be unwise for any of their tribe to make a permanent residence near this "Healing water" because the noise and gambols of the squaws and papooses would drive the spell from the water. Thus, as late as 1800, the visits of the race to the Spring, though frequently made, were only temporary, and for a special purpose in each instance. The tents of the red man were always found on the adjacent hills, filled with invalids who were brought to be cured, and again returned to the war path or their hunting grounds. About the date named, Gen. Wm. McIntosh, a half breed, and a cousin of Gov. Troup, erected a cabin for his own use, and afterwards spent the summers here with his family. This broke the spell; and subsequently a Mr. Ollison erected a double-cabin, which was dignified with the title of hotel and for years was the only house of accomodation afforded visitors. The same gentleman afterwards erected a small corn mill, which stood near or on the site of the new mill now being completed by Col. H. J. Lamar. These were the only improvements made until after the treaty of 1821, and are remembered by a number of our old citizens. The McIntosh cabin and the mill, were destroyed by fire; what became of the hotel which stood upon the site of the north end of the Varner House, we cannot state.

The "spell" was broken, and both races pitched their tents around the Spring annually for a number of years, mingling without open hostility. Watson and Fitzpatrick continued to act as scouts for the Government, making the McIntosh cabin headquarters. Among the visitors were Messrs. Dred and Jonathan Phillips, of Jasper county, who brought a friend that had been afflicted with rheumatism, and unable to walk for years. A short stay served to restore the afflicted to his original health, when the party returned to their homes. While here the Phillips brothers observed the excellent condition of the Indian stock, which was attributed to the superabundance of cane then covering the extensive bottoms, and, as a speculation, brought over a large drove of cattle to pasture, which was left in the canebrake, but occasionally visited to be salted and inspected. Subsequently this movement was interfered with, as we shall show.

First Outbreak.

The rival factions of the Creeks were severally headed by McIntosh and Napothlehatchie—the latter termed Big Warrior. Another leader with the Big Warrior clan was Hopoethleyoholo, who was said to have been the most brilliant orator of the tribe. Through his influence the largest number of the tribe joined Big Warrior, and he subsequently took an active part in opposing the treaties of 1821 and 1825, concluded at Indian Spring. Notwithstanding the factions were bitterly opposed to each other, we have no record of any outbreak occurring until 1807. The Phillips brothers were also left undisturbed in their pursuit. The first disturbance occurred in June, 1807, when Big Warrior, with a party of his braves, entered the stables of McIntosh at night and stole all his horses. The same party also carried off the Phillips cattle. When advised of their loss, the Phillips brothers gathered their neighbors, and, on being joined by Watson and Fitzpatrick, pursued and overtook the plunderers about seventy miles lower down the Ocmulgee. After a desperate conflict the stock was recovered and Hopoethleyoholo made prisoner. This brave refused to smoke the pipe of peace with his captors, and actually spat in the face of the leader of the whites, who tendered the symbol of peace. This act aroused the ire of the whites, who were with difficulty persuaded by Watson to spare his life. The discussion among the whites was suddenly disturbed by Big Warrior, who rushed in with his followers, who had been reinforced, and recaptured the favorite orator. During this second brief struggle Dred Phillips was shot through the fleshy part of the left arm. The cattle were then driven back to the canebrakes of the Big Sandy, and again apparent quiet was the rule.

But the fires of hatred were only smothered in the breast of Big Warrior. Watson and his companions were conversant with the machinations of the unfriendly chief, and anticipated an outbreak against both the whites and McIntosh party, but no opportunity occurred, and all remained quiet until the war of 1812 was inaugurated. In this war the McIntosh party—which had been gradually gaining strength—joined with the forces of the State and Government, and Big Warrior united with the public enemy. The struggle in Georgia during the war was bitter, and involved the loss of many whites as well as friendly Indians, and a heavy expense to the State. Upon the declaration of peace between Great Britain and the United States, peace again reigned in Georgia.

At the close of the war the whites again began to resort to the Spring, and the sick were gathered from all quarters. The fame of the waters spread, and the wonderful cures effected appeared more like the result of magic than the effects of one of nature's great restorers. In 1816, Mrs. C. H. Varner, who yet lives in our midst, spent some time here; and the scenes of primitive beauty and interest she then looked upon, and also the incidents that occurred, are distinctly remembered by the venerable lady, as if it were but yesterday. Gen. John W. Gordon first visited the Spring in 1819, and continued to spend a large portion of his time here every year until his death. During the sojourns of this gentleman at Indian Spring, he contributed largely to the improvements that were made; and especially was his generosity, through a long series of years, exhibited for the benefit of the needy and afflicted. At his decease he left numbers at Indian Springs who will ever bless his memory for the fruits of the seeds of kindness he was constantly in the habit of sowing.

Among the early visitors was the veritable "Simon Suggs," who subsequently became distinguished as a wit and humorist. Douglass Walton, in his capacity of Government scout, continued to make his headquarters here. In 1819, Mr. Jesse Jolley, Mr. John Lemon, and Mrs. Freeman, with her husband and family located in Butts. The three first named are still living, and are among the most honored citizens of the county.

Public Treaties.

Prior to 1721, efforts were made by the Government to secure possession of the lands in Georgia lying west of the Ocmulgee. The McIntosh party favored such a treaty, while Big Warrior and his adherents opposed it. After many consultations between the two parties, favorable conclusions were arrived at, and the pipe of peace was passed. Big Warrior alone broke the faith thus cemented around the council-fires of his tribe; McIntosh was again faithful, and in 1821, he concluded a treaty with the agents of the government, by which the hunting grounds between the Ocmulgee and Flint Rivers were forever ceded away, excepting a portion of the Ward plantation and six hundred and forty acres around the Spring. These reservations were made by McIntosh for himself. The first embraced a large body of fertile land and the second the Spring, the medical properties of which McIntosh well understood. This treaty was ratified in Washington, March 2d, 1821.

This action of McIntosh and his adherents aroused another feud between the rival wings of the tribe, which ended in a fierce battle. A heavy loss was sustained on both sides, the McIntosh party suffering most severely. Big Warrior was slain, and thus his party were left without a leader. A little later the orator chief and McIntosh met and smoked the calumet. How faithless the first named could prove to this solemn covenant will be shown. In 1823, General McIntosh and Joel Bailey erected the main building of the Indian Spring Hotel, and opened it for the reception of visitors. This building is still yearly occupied for the purposes originally intended. About the same date other improvements were made, and Indian Spring became a favorite resort at that day. The visits of the whites increased rapidly, and they sought to secure residences, or camped out; while the Indians, now peaceable, also flocked to the "Healing Water."

By an agreement, all parties met at Indian Spring to consider a second treaty, early in February, 1825. The Government agents were protected by United States troops, and large forces of the opposing Indian factions were present. The negotiations were conducted in the hotel, and concluded February 7th, 1825. Under this treaty all the Indian possessions in Georgia were ceded to the whites, and an early removal of the tribe arranged for.

The agency of General McIntosh in bringing about this treaty resulted in his death within a few months. When it was announced that the treaty was concluded, Hopoethleyoholo seized the occasion to give vent to his long pent-up wrath. The Indians of both the old factions were present in large numbers. All were excited. At last the orator chief mounted the large rock yet seen at the south end of the Varner House, and gave vent to his feelings and purposes in the following characteristic talk:

"Brothers, the Great Spirit has met here with his painted children of the woods and their paleface brethren. I see his golden locks in the sunbeams; he fans the warrior's brow with his wings and whispers sweet music in the winds; the beetle joins his hymn and the mocking bird his song. You are charmed! Brothers, you have been deceived! A snake has been coiled in the shade and you are running into his open mouth, deceived by the double-tongue of the paleface chief (McIntosh), and drunk with the fire-water of the paleface. Brothers, the hunting grounds of our fathers have been stolen by our chief and sold to the paleface. Whose gold is in his pouch? Brothers, our grounds are gone, and the plow of the paleface will soon turn up the bones of our fathers. Brothers, are you tame? Will you submit? Hopoethleyoholo says no!" Then turning to McIntosh, who was standing with the commissioners at a window a few feet distant, he continued: "As for you, double-tongued snake, whom I see through the window of the paleface, before many moons have waned your own blood shall wash out the memory of this hated treaty. Brothers, I have spoken."

By this treaty the Spring became the property of the State and the ceded land was laid out in lots in 1826, the Commonwealth reserving ten acres around the Spring for the benefit of her citizens then and thereafter. The act establishing Butts County was passed in 1826. The village of Indian Spring was incorporated by legislative enactment in 1837, and in 1866, a second act changed the name to McIntosh and extended the limits of the incorporation.

Death of McIntosh.

General McIntosh and family removed to his plantation on the Chattahoochee, and evidently rested secure. But the avenger was on the war path, and the distinguished chieftain, who had rendered the whites such signal service, was doomed.

In compliance with the advice of Hopoethleyoholo, a secret council was held, at which one hundred braves were selected to secure the vengeance desired, and these, headed by the wily orator, set out westward. When near his residence, McIntosh and his son-in-law, Hawkins, were seen by their hidden foe riding together. "They could then have been easily killed," says White's Statistics, "but their lives were spared for the moment to preserve a consistency so common in all plans of the Indians. They had determined to kill McIntosh in his own yard, in the presence of his family, and to let his blood run upon the soil of that reservation which had been secured to him by the treaty." From the same authority we learn McIntosh rode home unconscious of danger, while the savages prepared for their work. Lightwood was procured to fire the buildings. About three o'clock the premises were surrounded, and it was not until the torch had been applied to the outbuildings that the sleepers were aroused. Chilly McIntosh, the chief's son—who is yet living—escaped through a window of one of the outhouses, and, running the gauntlet, swam the river. General McIntosh, upon discovering his assailants, barricaded the door and stood near it when it was forced. He fired on them, and at that moment one of his steadfast friends, Toma Tustinugse, fell upon the threshold riddled with balls. The chief then retreated to the second story, with four guns in his hand, which he continued to discharge from a window. He fought with great courage, and, aware that his end was near, determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. He was at this time the only occupant of the burning house; for his two wives, Peggy and Susannah, who had been dragged into the yard, were heard imploring the savages not to burn him up, but to get him out of the house, and shoot him, as he was a brave man and an Indian like themselves. McIntosh came down to the first floor, where he fell pierced with many balls. He was then seized and dragged into the yard. While lying there, the blood gushing from his wounds, he raised himself on one arm and surveyed his murderers with looks of defiance, and it was while so doing he was stabbed to the heart by an Ocfuskee Indian. The chief was scalped and the buildings plundered and burned. The party then sought for Hawkins, whom they also killed. His body was thrown into the river.

An Indian Elopement.

The family of General McIntosh spent the summer of 1826, at Indian Spring, where his two youngest daughters, who had been highly educated, spent their time in associating alternately with the dusky maidens of their tribe and their palefaced sisters. During the visit one of the sisters created a decided sensation by eloping with an Indian lover. A gentleman now residing in the vicinity who at that time was a little boy, whose parents were camped at the Spring, was at the McIntosh cabin—then situated on the lot north of the Varner Hotel—when the occurrence took place. There were hundreds of Indians camped on the adjacent hills—the friendly party on the south side of the creek and the adherents of Hypoethleyoholo on the north bank. The lover was a leading chief of the latter party, and the match was bitterly opposed by the McIntosh family and their adherents who keenly remembered the sad events of the previous year; but the young lovers, who had long since determined upon their course, cared not for opposition and well arranged their plans.

On a bright Sunday morning our little white friend—now an aged and respected citizen—was swinging in the cabin with the two girls when an unusual commotion in the yard attracted the attention of all, and they rushed to the door. The young girl's favorite pony was hitched outside. Coming up the hill from the creek was seen the determined lover, mounted, and accompanied by a score of his braves. On seeing him approach, his intended rushed into the cabin, and, amidst the tears and vehement protestations of her mother and sister, who were weeping bitterly, she rapidly cast off the habiliments of civilization and arrayed herself in a complete Indian costume. This accomplished, she turned to her weeping friends, and after much talk in the language of her tribe, she embraced them without shedding a tear, and rushed out, kissing her little friend, who was gazing upon the scene with wonder. The lover and his escort were drawn up near the gate; not a word was said, and the girl sprang upon her pony and took her place in the line behind her intended. Silently the party then moved down the hill, crossed the creek, and were soon out of sight. They were legally married at Lawrenceville, Gwinnett County, Georgia, and the union was a happy and prosperous one.—Jackson, (Ga.,) Argus.