chinked with flat stones and clay as a protection against the attacks of Indians. It is one of the few pioneer cabins still standing in Western Pennsylvania in which the stone chimney is entirely within the walls and in which the loophole windows, originally about two feet long and less than a foot high, were not enlarged after danger from Indian attack had passed. This home stood close to Nemacolin’s trail, later known as the “old Road”, which lead from Philadelphia to Fort Pitt. Packhorse trains and heavy wagons bearing supplies from the East passed it on their way to the log village of Pittsburgh. Several times it was besieged by Indians and bloody encounters have occurred about its log walls. Neal himself owned a wagon trade outfit and with Jack Andrews, a neighbor, made frequent trips to Philadelphia during which he was exposed to constant danger of attack by bands of Indians, for the capture of a heavily laden freight wagon yielded much booty. One midsummer evening a few years before the beginning of the Revolutionary War, Neal and Andrews had almost reached the cabin on a return trip from Philadelphia without adventure when suddenly just as they were starting down the hill at what is now Murray Avenue and Forbes street an Indian darted out of the bushes and hurled something at the team. The six horses plunged violently down the hill, frantic with fear and pain. The Indian had thrown a wasps’ nest which struck the back of one of the horses and broke, liberating the insects which stung the horses and the driver viciously. Neal with two “tenderfoot” passengers from Philadelphia who were on the back of the big wagon were not stung but they narrowly escaped being thrown to the ground by the unexpected plunge of the horses, the passengers losing their rifles. A half dozen Indians followed the runaway horses down the hill, firing as they ran, apparently for the purpose of adding to the fright of the panic-stricken animals. The Indians were disappointed in the evident expectations that the wagon would overturn or be wrecked among the trees and be easy to capture. Although smarting from numerous stings, Andrews kept the plunging horses on the road. By the time they had crossed the bottom of the narrow ravine and started up the steep ascent leading into what is now Schenley Park where the