NOTE:  Though Leatherlips was executed it is doubtful that his death
should appear on the list of those executed by the state.  As the
following text shows, he was executed by members of his own tribe.
------------
Excerpt from:  Martin, William T., History of Franklin County . . .,
(Columbus 1858), pages 34-37.

In June, 1810, there was an old Wyandot [Sic.] Chief, named Leatherlips,
executed in this county, about fourteen miles north of Columbus, near the
Delaware County line, on the charge of witchcraft. The account of this event
is taken from Drake's Life of Tecumseh, where it is abridged from an article
by Otway Curry, in the Hesperian; and is substantially corroborated by Wm.
Sells, Esq., of Dublin, who is, perhaps, the only survivor of the white men
referred to, that were present at the execution.

"General Harrison entertained the opinion that his death was the result of the
Prophet's command, and that the party who acted as executioners, went directly
from Tippecanoe to the banks of the Scioto, where Leatherlips was found to be
encamped, and where the tragedy was enacted. The six Wyandots who put him to
death were headed, it is supposed, by the chief, Roundhead. An effort was made
by some white men who were present, to save the life of the accused, but without
success. A council of two hours took place; the accusing party spoke with warmth
and bitterness of feeling. Leatherlips was calm and dispassionate in his replies.
The sentence of death, which had been previously passed upon him, was reäffirmed.
The prisoner then walked slowly to his camp, partook of a dinner of jerked venison,
washed and arrayed himself in his best apparel, and afterwards painted his face.
His dress was very rich, his hair gray, and his whole appearance graceful and
commanding. When the hour for the execution had arrived, Leatherlips shook hands
in silence with the spectators; he then turned from his wigwam, and with a voice
of surpassing strength and melody, commenced the chant of the death song. He was
followed closely by the Wyandot warriors, all timing with their slow and measured
march, the music of his wild and melancholy dirge. The white men were likewise all
silent followers in that strange procession. At the distance of seventy or eight
yards from the camp they came to a shallow grave, which, unknown to the white men,
had been previously prepared by the Indians. Here the old man knelt down, and in
an elevated but solemn tone of voice, addressed his prayer to the Great Spirit. As
soon as he had finished, the captain of the Indians knelt beside him and prayed in
a similar manner. Their prayers, of course, were spoken in the Wyandot tongue. After
a few moments delay, the prisoner again sunk down upon his knees and prayed as he
had done before. When he had ceased, he still continued in a kneeling posture. All
the rifles belonging to the party had been left at the wigwam.  There was not a
weapon of any kind to be seen at the place of execution, and the spectators were
consequently unable to form any conjecture as to the mode of procedure which the
executioners had determined on for the fulfillment of their purpose.  Suddenly,
one of the warriors drew from beneath the skirts of his capote a keen, bright
tomahawk, walked rapidly up behind the chieftain, brandishing the weapon on high
for a single moment, and then struck with his whole strength. The blow descended
directly upon the crown of the head, and the victim immediately fell prostrate.
After he had lain awhile in the agonies of death, the Indian captain directed the
attention of the white men to the drops of sweat which were gathering upon his
neck and face, and remarked with apparent exultation, that it was conclusive proof
of the sufferer's guilt. Again the executioner advanced, and with the same weapon
inflicted two or three additional heavy blows. As soon as life was entirely extinct,
the body was hastily buried with all its apparel and decorations, and the assembly
dispersed."

There are a few old citizens remaining, who were personally acquainted with the
old Wyandot, Leather lips. His character was that of a peaceable and harmless
old Indian.  A rude pile of stones, on the Kosciusco lands near the county line,
long marked the grave of the unfortunate old chief.