I found the following story in the Vital Records of Williamsburg, Franklin Co, MA, in the Corbin Collection. It is attributed to the Gazette, March 19, 1861.The author is not identified. Carl Hommel Jonathon WELLS was one of the party who attacked King Phillip, at Turner's Falls, in 1676. In the autumn of 1675 had occurred the terrible slaughter of Blody (sic) Brook. In the following spring, Phillip, with a thousand warriors had reached Turner's Falls, and was threatening destruction to the neighboring settlements. On the 17th of May, 160 men, comprising four mounted companies, of 40 each, mostly from Hatfield and Hadley, started to attack him. At two O'clock on the morning of the 18th, the attack was commenced. After an obstinate battle, in which one fourth of the Indians fell, the residue retreated and the whites supposing their work was done, commenced to return to Hatfield. They had not proceeded far, when Phillip, reinforced by new arrivals, having still a thousand strong, interrupted their march by a most violent assault. Jonathan WELLS, who was one of the rear guard, was shot in the thigh. Though disabled, he still maintained his seat upon his horse, but retired from the fight. It being a cloudy day, he, having no compass, soon became lost in the woods. He wandered, not knowing whither, till at dark he fell, exhausted, and left his horse to escape, at a place now known as the North Greenfield Farms. His horse gone, and he being too weak to mount, if the horse had remained, laid down and slept till the morning of the 19th, when he wandered up the Green Rive, using his gun for a crutch. At the close of the day he again lay down and slept the second night. He dreamed that he should have gone down the river instead of up. The son (sic) had not been seen the two previous days. This morning, the 20th, it arose clear. He took a southern course down the river, still using his gun for a crutch; and at night had reached the Deerfield river, opposite the village of Deerfield, a few months before burnt up by the Indians, where he again lay down and slept through the night. On the next morning, the fifth from his leaving Hatfield, and the fourth after the battle, he saw an Indian, armed with a rifle, coming toward him, across the river in a canoe He had no ammunition. The barrel of his gun was filled with sand. He pointed it at the Indian. Leaving his canoe, with the rifle in it, the Indian leaped into the water and swam away. WELLS crawled under some drift wood in the marsh near by. Several Indians came to the place, and passed over the wood, but did not find him. After they had gone, he crossed the river, kept on in a southerly course, traveled all day and all the following night, and the next morning reached Bloody Brook Here faint and despairing, he lay down to die. But subsequently, making further effort, he found a dead horse, got off some of his flesh and ate it. He also found and ate some bird's eggs. It was now Saturday. He traveled all that day and the next day, Sunday, at noon, reached his home, where he lived to be one of the oldest men in the place. What powers of endurance the habits of our ancestors gave! and how true is it that any period of our past history, from the landing of the first commers to the organization of the United States government, was a period of blood and toll, the purchase paid by our fathers, for the blessings which we inherit. Of the 160 men who made up the Turner's Falls expedition, 38 were killed by the Indians.