By JAMES TAYLOR ADAMS Big Laurel, Va., Sept. 23—It’'s an odd fact that Wise county, now one of the richest and most pro gressive counties of all the upper Cumberlands, was the last of this vast region to be settled; and this includes the western end of Dick enson, once a part of Wise. As early as 1775, homeseekers began pushing over the Blue Ridge mountains, to the east, and from the other side of the Smokies, to the south, in search of wild and fertile acres to turn with their plows and domains of lush grasses for the feeding of their horses and cows. But, with the exception of the Powells Valley section, the west end and the Clinch River bottoms at the extreme east end, they passed up all of the land now in corporated in Wise county and pushed on across Pine mountain to lay claim to the more fertile hills and bottoms along the Ken tucky and Big Sandy rivers. We can almost see them kick ing up the light, grey soil with the toe of their boot and shaking their heads, in disapproval. They knew nothing of the wealth in coal lying under that poorish looking earth; they had never heard of such things as fertilizers and soil builders; but they had a vision of yields from new cleared ground and a good game country; and they pushed on, deep into the Kentucky wilder ness in their fevered quest. So it came about that the year 1820 was part of time before any great number of homeseekers be gan to consider the Pound, Cranes Nest, and the upper Guest and Powell rivers as sites for their bringing up families; and it was about this time that many of the settlers on the Kentucky and Big Sandy tired of their chosen homes and drifted back across the Pine to establish themselves on the Virginia side of the great Cum berland divide. Old Booker Mullins’ boys were among the pioneers of this region who had kicked up Wise county , and pressed on across the m. Sometime around 18,000, as early as 1790, perhaps, the Mul linses had packed up in Franklin county, Virginia, and headed west, seeking a home in the un tracked wilderness. Ambrose was one of the Mullins “boys.” He settled first on Shelby Creek, in what is now Pike coun ty, Kentucky. But, after a few years of farming and hunting on the waters of Sandy, he returned, over the same trail he had helped to blaze, andd built his home on a small branch of Birchfield creek, about seven miles north of Wise. He was still on the waters of Sandy, but he probably did not know it. He had never followed Birchfield down to the Pound and the Pound through the Breaks of the Cumberlands to the Russell Fork of Big Sandy. But that did not worry Ambrose Mullins. Nothing worried.Ambrose Mul lins ...not for some few years. He felled great poplars and chewed broad legs and notched them, one upon another, for a strong and substantial house for himself and increasing family. He cleared up the rolling hills and built high stake-and-rider fences with ten foot rails which he split from the bie chestnuts...sometimes a hundred rails to the cut...to turn back the deer and balk the bear, forever trying, in the dead of night, to break in and destroy his crops in one way or another. No one knows the exact date that Ambrose Mullins settled on what has since been known as “Ambrose Branch” of Birchfield creek. But it is known that it was a long, long time ago; and that, regardless of the date, he was the first settler in the Birchfield sec tion of Wise county, predating the “home - under - the - cliff” settle ment by Jeremiah Birchfield, for whom the stream was named, by several years. Mullins’ neighbors were few and far between. Perhaps the nearest was his kinsman (brother or first cousin) James Mullins at the mouth of Indian Creek and Bold Camp, on the Pound. James took heed for his land in 1815, but he probably had settled there many years before. Some say that he, like Ambrose, had settled first on Shelby Creek, beyond the Pine, and moved back across the mountain, after becoming dis contented in his Kentucky home. It appears that Ambrose got along on his branch all right for several years. Got along, until one evening his horses failed to return from the range on Indian Creek as they had been trained to do. Going to look for them, next , Ambrose failed to find his horses. But he found out why. They had been rounded up and driven off by a band of Shawnees, returning to their towns in the Ohio country from a forage on the white settlements in the Clinch Valley, some fifty miles to the south. His stock was gone be yond recovery, and all he could do was to trade for some more horses and be more careful in the future than he had been in the past. The following is what his des cendants tell: He built strong, enclosed lots in which he kept his horses. But even this did not suffice as pro tection against the Indians. A few months later they passed through the country again, and this time they crossed the hill, from the In dian Creek trail, and raided the Mullins homestead, breaking down his fences and driving off his horses while Mrs. Mullins, with her small children, fled to the safety of a nearby laurel thicket. Ambrose and his grown sons were at work some distance from the house and knew nothing about the raid until they return ed at noon. Ambrose, they say, went to the Kentucky settlements and traded for more horses; and this he stockaded his stock more se cure than before. He also shut tered all windows in his house, and he cut holes in the walls, on every side, laid in a goodly supply of ammunition and swore with uplifted hand that he would die in defense of his home and pro perty. And Ambrose Mullins kept his word. Time went on some say months others say it was years. Anyway, one day the Indians paid another visit to the Mullins homestead. Without warning they swept the low gap, to the west of a clearing, and began break down the fences that enclosed the horse lots. All members of the family, save Ambrose, himself, were in the house at the time. Mrs. Mullins and her sons and daughters, large enough to lift a gun, poked rifles through the holes in the walls and opened fire upon the thieving Red men. Ambrose was working in a field, across the hollow. He probably, would have been safe enough had he kept to cover. But instead of staying where he was, or con cealing himself in the nearby bushes, he made a dash for the house, crossing the direct fire of Indians who were returning the attack which Mrs. Mullins and the children had leveled at them. Hearts stood still in the house as wife and children saw the de voted husband and father racing into certain death. He crossed the hollow. He crossed the fence, surrounding the house. He cross ed the front yard. In his rage, he turned on the steps and let out a yell. His voice was still one along the distant hills when he stumbled, grasped chest, and went down..... to rise again. A few minutes later the Indians withered, under the constant fire from the house, and retreated, carrying their dead and wounded with them. They never came back. As far as is known that was the last raid ever made by Indians on white settlers in the bounds of what is now Wise county. The Ambrose Mullins stood, as reminder of the tragic event of that long-ago time, until just a few years ago when it was to make way for a modern cor e. But it is still the “Ambrose ranch”,