Chapter 5

William Simmons - Lost -- Found
Late in January 1832, William Simmons, from Henry County, Indiana, came to visit his brother-in-law, Thomas Shaylor, who lived on the Salimonie, three miles above Portland. The weather had been very stormy for several days, and the snow lay upon the ground then or twelve inches deep. The bushes and limbs of the trees were bowed by the weight of the snow that hung upon them. But a fierce west wind came up, scattered the snow, and the weather became extremely cold. Mr. Simmons called at the cabin of John J. Hawkins, who was then an invalid, and inquired the way to Mr. Shaylor's, saying that he would return that way the next day. But the next day passed, and he did not come; and the Hawkins family was uneasy lest their stranger friend had got lost and perhaps frozen. On the morning of the third day, Mr. Shaylor called at Mr. Hawkins', inquiring for the lost man. He stated that Simmons had gone hunting, but had become bewildered and lost. In the deep snow and terrible cold he would perish. Shaylor, who had been drinking for several days with some boon companions from the Mississinewa, inquired of Mr. Hawkins what should be done. The "Recollections" by J. C. Hawkins on this point says: "Father told him that what they decided to do must be done at once, for if the man was lost he was exposed to peril in various ways; -- he might have lost his flint or wet his powder, or become bewildered, like 'Limber Jim,' or it was possible that the wolves might have attacked him. 'Sam,' said he, addressing the eldest son, 'you see how it is. Shaylor and those other men are not able to stand much so soon after their spree; it therefore remains for you and Edward Simmons to do what is to be done. What do you say of it?' His answer was, 'I'll make the trial.' 'Well, then,' father added, 'get ready; you have no time to lose. You need no gun; take my tomahawk; -- your knife is good; carry several flints and the best punk; set fire occasionally to dry trees, so that if you find him you can carry him to the nearest, thereby you will save time. If he is benumbed and drowsy, don't bring him too close to the fire, but rub him and make him take exercise. If his feet are much frozen, cut a hole in the ice and put them in, or rub them with snow. Don't let him eat too much at once. And now remember your mother will not expect to see you until you can bring tidings of the lost man!'"

Thus explicitly directed and equipped, the two young men hastily entered the snowy woods. Shaylor and his companions followed a short distance, but soon turned back. After traveling three or four miles the young men came to his track; following this a short distance, they found he had been crossing his own path, and must be completely bewildered. About 11 o'clock they found him. He was in a terrible condition. He was slowly dragging himself along, both his feet being badly frozen and burned. He would but his stick forward and then draw himself up to it. In this way the poor man was endeavoring to save his life. He was so exhausted by hunger, exposure and suffering that, had not help reached him, he would soon have lain down and perished. The sight of the young men greatly rejoiced him, for he hoped to be restored to his family. He was found on the knoll where Liber College now stands, between the college building and the delightful Spring on the bank of the Little Salimonie. He immediately asked for something to eat, and the rescuers happening to have an ear of corn with them, parched it for him.

After hunting until it was time to return, he had gone down Butternut to the Salimonie, intending to take the stream to the mouth of the Little Salimonie, and then up that to Shaylor's. The mouth of the Little Salimonie is very narrow - like a small run - and coming to this, he thought it could not be the place, and passed on up the Big Salimonie, one or two miles above Portland. Finding that he had missed the way, he returned, and when he reached the little prairie opposite where Thomas Jones now lives, he was too much exhausted to proceed further. He then tried to strike fire, but his flint entirely failed. He soon found his feet were freezing. He cleared away the snow, and by dancing around managed to keep awake all night. Early the next morning he again tried his flint, and the first stroke made fire. In thawing his shoes he burned his frozen feet terribly, and could not again put on his shoes. He then made a pair of moccasins from the skin of a wolf he had killed the day before. He left his gun, and, with the help of a staff, dragged himself along; found the mouth of the Little Salimonie, and was going up the stream when found by the young men. He was immediately taken to his home, where one leg and the toes and heel of the other were amputated. He lived for many years, and afterward revisited the county.