'i - 4 ! il .*!-•;•’] MWgpip MipP^ wMisWl < : .•/, ' ■■ ., ■ ■ • , , • •; mmm ' : . ■ ■ ■ • "iVi . :•••.:■. ,v. 'V v • ■■■; 1! ;C,- - • ; r- j , ' ; ; • j ’ : v j > . ;> j'/i . • »•.*.' i . f ' ■ ■ ■ . ■ ■ . . ' Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/sketchesofwester00mccl_0 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY L. .F CLAFLIN, & CO. Thb World to Come — Or Discourses on death, judg- ment and eternity; to which is added an Essay on the seperate state of souls, between death and the Resurrec- tion By Dr. Isaac Watts. 8 vo. 480 pp. copperplate po- trdiv of the Dr. Full sp., red back, extra gilt.. Contents. — Discourse on the end of time. — The Watch- ful Christians dying in peace. — Surprise in death. — Christ admired and glorified in his saints. — The wrath of the Lamb.— The vain refuge of sinners, or a meditation on the rocks near Tunbidge Wells, 1729. — No night in Heaven. — A soul prepared for Heaven. — No pain among the blessed. — The first fruits of the Spirit, or a foretaste of Heaven. — Safety in the grave, and joy at the resur- rection. — A speech over a grave. — The nature of the punishment in hell. — The eternal duration of the punish- ment in hell. — An Essay towards the proof of a separate state of souls between death and the resurrection. We take pleasure in recommending the “World to Come,” by Dr. Watts, to the attention of the Christian public. We believe it to be a good book, and worthy of a place in every family. Rev. S. S. Parr, of the Baptist church. “ J. W. Hall, of the Presbyterian church. “ E. Allen, of the Episcopal church. “ J. C. Barnes, of the Presbyterian church. “ J. A. Watterman, of the Methodist E. church. “ D. P. Rosenmiller, of the Luthern church. “ D. Winters, of the German Reformed church. “ J. Emerick, of the United Brethren church. The Journal of Lewis and Clark. — The accounts of border warfare and wild wood adventure, will never cease to be interesting to the American citizen. The Journal of Lewis and Clark, which was read with so much avidity more than forty years ago, has renewed its youth with the present generation; and having survived all its companions, it bids fair to go down through the winter of life with much of the greenness of youth. I remember to have seen and read, some twenty years ago, “Journal of Pike to the Rocky Mountains;’’ but it seems to have gone to sleep with its illustrious author, at York Town. — There was also another which fell into my hands about the same time; whose author, I have forgotten, but not. that he told us some wonderful Rattlesnake stories: I think however that his name is Carver. But this, too, although regarded as an interesting work, in its da y, with many others of cotemporaneous birth, is sleeping with the illustrious dead; and will continue to sleep, unless the clatter of the Stick, and the rattle of the Press, should arouse them from the dust. We have just issued a new Edition ofLewis and Clark, interwoven with all that is interesting in the Journal of Gass who was a member of the same corps, and who relates many entertaining facts, not found in the Journal of the first. Eighteen wood cuts, full sp. 12 mo. 62cts Sketches of Western Adventure — Containing an ac- count of the most interesting incidents connected with the settlement of the west, from 1755 to 1794; with an Appendix, revised and corrected with Engravings, by John A. McClung. Fullsp. 315 pp. 12 mo. 62cts. Contents. — Adventure of Colonel James Smith; Dan- iel Boone; General Simon Kenton; General Benjamin Lo- gan; Colonel William Crawford; John Slover; Captain R. Benham; Alexander McConnel; Robert and Samuel Mc- Afee; Bryant and Hogan, McKinley; David Morgan; Ad- am Poe; Mrs. Wood, Davies, Caffree, and McClure; Cap- tain James Ward; Francis Downing; the Widow Scaggs; John Merrill; Ward; Calvin, and Kenton; May, Johnston, Flinn, and Skyles; Captain William Hubbell, Incidents attending the desertion of a young white man from a par- ty of Indians; War in the north west; Harmer's Expedi- tion; Adventures of Jackson Johonet; Expedition of Gen- eral Arthur St. Clair; Adventures of William Kennan; Expedition of Wayne; Mission of Miller; Battle of the “Fallen Timber,” Adventure of the two young Johnsons; Appendix. This is one of the most salable Books that we pul> lish and as a Sketch of border Warfare, there is nothing extant that can equal it. Every Body's Own Book, a valuable selection of curious and odd things in Arts, Sciences, Statistics, Recipes (fee. (fee. Half mo. 50 cents. 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Also Prayer’s for Lord's Day, Morning and Evening, Monday Morning and evening, and so on throughout the week; also Christmas Morning and Evening, Good-Friday morning and Evening, Ac. — • It contains also a beautiful representation of Washington kneeling in Prayer, in a Grove, near his winter quarters, at Valley Forge. 16 mo. half morocco. 20 cts. Collyer's Manual Of Phrenology, or the Physiology of the Human Brain, embracing a full description of the Phrenological Organs. This is one of the best Books ex- tant, for a pupil in Phrenology. 12 mo. half mo. 42c*s, Pocket Testament, good edition. 32 mo. half mo. IGcts. A Guide To Cabinet Makers, Polishers of Wood, Yar- nishers, Painters, Japaners, Ac., or Rules and Instruction in the art of Varnishing, Dying, Staining, Japaning, Pol- ishing, Lackering and beautifying wood, Ivory, Tortoise Shell, and Metal, with observations on their management and application. This is a reprint from an English work of great value. 48 pp. paper. IGc's. The Methodist Campmeeting Song Book; containing a gn at variety of such tunes as are used at camp meet- ings, than any other work extan: ; this book is in patent notes, and is the cheapest thing of the kind offered to the trade. 66 pp. paper cover printed. 12cts. A Manual of Domestic Economy; or House keepers Guide, comprising a very large collection of original Re- cipes, in cooking, baking, brewing, Ac. Some oi die Re- cipes, of this book have been hitherto kept a secret, or sold at enormous high prices. 156 pp. mo. paper covers printed 30 cts. The Shorter Catechism, witli Scripture Proofs. This is the cheapest edition extant. 4cts. The Elements Of Algebra, with the 'fundamental Rules as far as Quadratic Equations, carefully explained and examplified. By John Burtt, V. D. M. Half sp. plain, 34cts. This is anew work on this Science, and is said to sur- pass all others in simplicity and clearness of explanation. This is a great disideratum in a work on this Science. Highly recommended by Presidents and Professors in Colleges. The Complete Works op Thomas Dick, L. L. D. 17 Vols. in 2; containing 1st an Essay on the Improvement of Society; The Phi- losophy of the Future State; The Philosophy of Religion; The Christian Philosophy; Mental Illumination and Moral Improve- ment of Mankind; Essay on the Sin and Evil of Covetousness; Ce- lestial Scenery; Siderial Heavens; Practical Astronomy; Solar Sys- tem; Atmosphere and Atmospherical Phenomena, all illustrated with numerous outs — well bound royal 8 vo. Spring Baok. $4 50 ’WmmM Jw'/si f Mpp p^K 1 ’W&msmB i# :• CAPT. PATERSON'S ESCAPE FItOM TEE CATTLE OF THE BLUE LICKS.— r Sue SKETCHES OF WESTERN ADVENTURE, CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE MOST INTERESTING INCIDENTS CONNECTED WITH THE SETTLEMENT OF THE WEST, FROM. 1755 TO 1794: WITH AN APPENDIX* REVISED AND CORRECTED, WITH ENGRAVINGS. BY JOHN A. M’CLUNG. CINCINNATI, OHIO: PUBLISHED BY H. S. & J. APPLEGATE & GO. 1851 . Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1836 , BY J. A. JAMES & CO., In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of Ohio. CONTENTS Pagi. CHAP. I. Adventures of Colonel James Smith, - -- -- -- - 9 II. “ Daniel Boone, - - - 40 III. « General Simon Kenton, - -- -- -- - 80 IV. « General Benjamin Logan, ------- 109 V. « Colonel William Crawford, 119 VI. “ John Slover, - 135 VII. « Captain Robert Benhiam, 148 « “ Alexander McConnel, 151 “ “ Robert and Samuel McAfee, - - -- -- 154 “ « Bryant and Hogan, 155 « “ McKinley, ------ 1**8 < « David Morgan, ------ 160 « “ Adam Poe, 163 YIH. « Mrs. Woods, 170 «* « Davis, Caffree and McClure, ----*-171 « “ Captain James Ward, 175 « « Francis Downing, 176 « « The Widow Scaggs, - -- -- -- -- - 179 « Incidents attending the desertion of a young white man from a party of Indians, - -- -- -- -- - 183 « Adventures of John Merril, ------ - 187 IX. « Ward, Cp.lvin and Kenton, - 188 a « Ward, Baker and Kenton, 194 X. « May, Johnston, Flinn and Skyles, - - - 195 XI. “ Captain William Hubbell, 231 XII. War in the North West, 239 « Harmer’s Expedition, - -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 240 « Adventures of Jackson Johonnet, - -- -- -- -- 243 XIII. Expedition of General Arthur St. Clair, 250 « Adventures of William Kennan, - -- -- -- --258 XIV. Expedition of Wayne, 264 * Mission of Miller, 267 « Battle of the “ Fallen Timber,” - -- -- -- -- - 269 " Adventure of the two young Johnsons, 270 w Appendix, 277 A 2 V PREFACE. Is- these “ latter days ,” when a rage for hook making pervades all ages, sexes, and conditions, it is scarcely necessary to offer the usual hackneyed apology, for what is modestly called ‘ a trespass upon the patience of the public! ’ Should the book prove entertaining, and in some degree useful, no apology will be necessary — if otherwise, none will be received. Instead, therefore, of spinning a dozen or more sentences, in the usual deprecating tone, or (which is frequently done) throwing down the gauntlet at the whole tribe of critics, I shall con- tent myself with a few remarks, upon the degree of credit which is to be attached to the following pages. •Several years ago, when the author was younger and more confi- dent, than at present, he was seduced into the perpetration of a book which was intended for a novel. It never attracted much attention, and has long since been forgotten, except by the immediate acquain- tances of the author. Upon the appearance of the present work, to which the title and other circumstances unconnected with the merit of the execution, will probably give a more extensive circulation, the recollection of “ Camden/’ will probably be revived with many readers in the West, and give rise to a suspicion that the present work is as truly an offspring of the imagination as the former. A simple denial of the charge would, probably, gain but little credit. I wish therefore, to refer distinctly to the sources from which the materials for the present work have been derived, in order to give every one who chooses, an opportunity of satisfying himself as to its authenticity. For the correctness with which the adventures of Boone, Smith, and Johnston are derailed, I refer the reader to the printed narratives of each of those gentlemen, which are to be found upon the shelves of almost every bookseller in the West. In the life of Boone, there are many particulars relating to the siege of Byrant’s station and the battle of the Blue Licks, which are not to be found in Boone’s nar- rative. For some of these, I am indebted to Mr. Marshall; but most of them have been taken from a series of “ Notes,” which appeared vii PREFACE. ▼ilk several years ago in the Kentucky Gazette, and which were carefully taken down from the verbal communications of individuals still living, who were actively engaged in those scenes. For the striking incidents attending the expedition of Crawford, I am indebted to the printed narratives of Knight and Slover, which were published immediately after their return to Virginia, when the affair was fresh in the recollection of hundreds, and any misstatement would instantly have been corrected. Kenton’s ad- ventures are taken from a manuscript account dictated by the vener- able pioneer himself, and now in the possession of Mr. John D. Taylor, of Washington, Ky. from whom at some future day, we may expect a full detail of his whole life, of which I have only given a rapid and imperfect sketch. The adventures of Johonnet, are taken from a printed account by himself, w T hich first appeared in 1791, immediately after the defeat of St. Clair, and those of Kennan, from his own ac- count, which the author, in common with many others, has heard re- peatedly from his own lips. For the rest, I refer the reader general- ly, to Metcalf’s collection, Mr. “ Border Wars,” and the “ Notes on Kentucky,” already mentioned. *A small portion, and comparatively but a small portion, of the mi- nor details, have been gathered from personal conversation with the individuals concerned. Had I chosen to have given admission to mere rumors, related by persons who had received them from others, I might have given a host of anecdotes, partaking strongly of the marvellous, and some of them really worthy of being inserted, could I have been satisfied of their truth ! But I have chosen to confine myself to those only which were given upon unquestionable* author- ity, and can conscientiously affirm, that I have admitted nothing which I myself, at the time, did not believe to be true. SKETCHES OF WESTERN ADVENTURE CHAPTER I. The English settlements in North America, until late m the 18th century, were confined to the country lying east of the Allegheny mountains. Even the most adven- turous traders from Virginia and Pennsylvania, rarely penetrated beyond the head waters of the Ohio river, and the spot where Pittsburgh now stands, was, for a lon|r time, an extreme frontier point, where the white fur t rea- ders and the western Indians were accustomed to meet and exchange their commodities. All beyond was an un- explored wilderness, which was known only as occupying certain degrees of latitude and longitude upon the map. Shortly before the old French war of 1755, this spot was occupied by the French, and a fort erected, which, in honor of their commander, was called Du Quesne. The possession of this fortress was keenly debated du- ring the earlier years of the war, and was soon rendered memorable by the disastrous expedition of Braddock and Grant. Omitting a regular detail of these events, which have been often related, we shall commence our desulto- ry history with a detail of the adventures of Col. James Smith, who subsequently removed to Kentucky, and for many years was a resident of Bourbon county. He was the first anglo-American who penetrated into the interior ©f the Western country; at least the first who has given us an account of his adventures; and in a succession of sketches, like the present, designed to commemorate indi- vidual rather than national exertions, he is justly entitled to the distinction which we give him. If we mistake not, 9 10 WESTERN ADVENTURE. his adventures will be found particularly interesting, as affording more ample specimens of savage manners and character, than almost any other account now in existence. In the spring of the year 1755, James Smith, then a youth of eighteen, accompanied a party of three hundred men from the frontiers of Pennsylvania, who advanced in front of Braddock’s army for the purpose of opening a road over the mountain. When within a few miles of the Bed- ford springs, he was sent back to the rear, to hasten the progress of some wagons loaded with provisions and stores for the use of the road cutters. Having delivered his or- ders, he was returning, in company with another young man, when they were suddenly fired upon by a party ot three Indians, from a cedar thicket which skirted the road. Smith’s companion w r as killed on the spot; and, although he himself was unhurt, yet his horse was so much fright- ened by the flash and report of the guns, as to become totally unmanageable, and after a few' plunges, threw him with violence to the ground. Before he could recover his feet, the Indians sprung upon him, and, overpowering his resistance, secured him as a prisoner. One of them demanded, in broken English, whether “ more w 7 hite men were coming up;” and upon his answer- ing in the negative, he was seized by each arm, and com- pelled to run with great rapidity over the mountain until night, w 7 hen the small party encamped and cooked their supper. An equal share of their scanty stock of provi* sions was given to the prisoner; and in other respects, al- though strictly guarded, he w 7 as treated with great kindness. On the evening of the next day, after a rapid walk of fifty miles, through cedar thickets, and over very rocky ground, they reached the w 7 estern side of the Laurel mountain, and beheld at a little distance the smoke of an Indian en campment. His captors now fired their guns, and raised the scalp halloo! This is a long yell for every scalp that h is been taken, followed by a rapid succession of shrill, quick, piercing shrieks, somewhat resembling laughter in its most excited t^nes. They were answered from the Indian camp below, by a discharge of rifles and a long w hoop, followed by shrill cries of joy, and ail thronged JAMES SMITH. 11 out to meet the party. Smith expected instant death at their hands, as they crowded around him; but to his sur- prise, no one offered him any violence. They belonged to another tribe, and entertained the party in their camp with great hospitality, respecting the prisoner as the pro- perty of their guests. On the following morning Smith’s captors continued their march, and on the evening of the next day arrived at fort Du Quesne, now Pittsburgh. When within half a mile of the fort, they again raised the scalp halloo, and fired their guns as before. Instantly the whole garrison was in commotion. The cannon were fired, the drums were beaten, and French and Indians ran out in great numbers to meet the party, and partake of their triumph. Smith was again surrounded by a multitude of savages, painted in various colors, and shouting with delight; but their demeanor was by no means as pacific as that of the last party he had encountered. They rapidly formed in two long lines, and brandishing their hatchets, ramrods, switches, &c. called aloud upon him to run the gauntlet. Never having heard of this Indian ceremony before, he stood amazed for some time, not knowing what to do; but one of his captors explained to him, that he was to run between the two lines, and receive a blow from each Indian as he passed, concluding his explanation by exhorting him to “ run his best,” as the faster he run the sooner the af- fair would be over. This truth was very plain ; and young Smith entered upon L s '•ace with great spirit. He was switched very handsomely along the lines, for about three- fourths of the distance, the stripes only acting as a spur to greater exertions, and he had almost reached the oppo- site extremity of the line, when a tall chief struck him a furious blow with a club upon the back of the head, and instantly felled him to the ground. Recovering himself in a moment, he sprung to his feet and started forward again, when a handful of sand was thrown in his eyes, which, in addition to the great pain, completely blinded him. He still attempted to grope his way through; but was again knocked down and beaten with merciless se- verity. He soon became insensible under such barba- 12 WESTERN ADVENTURE. rous treatment, and recollected nothing more, until he found himself in the hospital of the fort, under the hands of a French surgeon, beaten to a jelly, and unable to move a limb. Here he was quickly visited by one of his captors, the same who had given him such good advice, when about to commence his race. He now inquired, with some interest, if he felt “ very sore.” Young Smith replied, that he had been bruised al- most to death, and asked what he had done to merit such barbarity. The Indian replied that he had done nothing, but that it was the customary greeting of the Indians to their prisoners; that it was something like the English “how d’ye do?” and that now all ceremony would be laid aside, and he would be treated with kindness. Smith in- quired if they had any news»of General Braddock. The Indian replied that their scouts saw him every day from the mountains; that he was advancing in close columns through the woods ; (this he indicated by placing a num- ber of red sticks parallel to each other, and pressed closely together;) and that the Indians would be able to shoot them down “like pigeons.” Smith rapidly recovered, and was soon able to walk Bpon the battlements of the fort, with the aid of a stick. While engaged in this exercise, on the morning of the 9th July, he observed an unusual bustle in the fort. The Indians stood in crowds at the great gate, armed and painted. Many barrels of powder, ball, flints, &c. were brought out to them, from which each warrior helped him- self to such articles as he required. They were soon joined by a small detachment of French regulars, when the whole party marched off together. He had a full view of them as they passed, and was confident that they could not exceed four hundred men. He soon learned that it was detached against Braddock, who was now with- in a few miles of the fort; but from their great inferiority in numbers, he regarded their destruction certain, and looked joyfully to the arrival of Braddock in the evening, as l the hour which was to deliver him from the power of the Indians. In the afternoon, however, an Indian rui*- ner arrived with far different intelligence. The battki JAMES SMITH. 13 bad not yet ended when he left the field* but he announ- ced that the English had been surrounded* and were shot down in heaps by an invisible enemy,' that instead of fly- ing- at once, or rushing upon their concealed fo®, they appeared completely bewildered, huddled together in the center of the ring, and before sundown there would not be a man of them alive. This intelligence fell like a thunderbolt upon Smith, who now saw himself irretrievably in the power of the savages, and could look forward to nothing but torture or endless captivity. He waited anxiously for further intel- ligence, still hoping that the fortune of the day might change. But about sunset, he heard at a distance the well known scalp halloo, followed by wild, quick, joyful shrieks, and accompanied by long continued firing. This too surely announced the fate of the day. About dusk, the party returned to the fort, driving before them twelve British regulars, stripped naked and with their faces paint- ed black! an evidence that the unhappy wretches were devoted to death. Next came the Indians displaying their bloody scalps, of which they had immense numbers, ahd dressed in the scarlet coats, sashes, and military hats of the officers and soldiers. Behind all came a train of baggage horses, laden with piles of scalps, canteens, and all the accoutre- ments of British soldiers. The savages appeared frantic with joy, and when Smith beheld them entering the fort, dancing, yelling, brandishing their red tomahawks, and waving their scalps in the air, while the great guns of the fort replied to the incessant discharge of rifles without, he says, that it looked as if H — 11 had given a holiday, and turned loose its inhabitants upon the upper world. The most melancholy spectacle was the band of prison- ers. They appeared dejected and anxious. Poor fel- lows! They had but a few months before left London, at the command of their superiors, and we may easily im- agine their feelings, at the strange and dreadful spectacle around them. The yells of delight and congratulation were scarcely over, when those of vengeance began. The devoted prisoners — British regulars— -were led out B 14 WESTERN ADVENTURE. from the fort to the banks of the Allegheny, and to the eternal disgrace of the French commandant, were there burnt to death, one after another, with the most awful tor- tures. Smith stood upon the battlements and witnessed the shocking spectacle. The prisoner was tied to a stake with his hands raised above his head, stripped naked, and surrounded by Indians. They would touch him with red hot irons, and stick his body full of pine splinters and set them on tire, drowning the shrieks of the victim in the yells of delight with which they danced around him. His companions in the mean time stood in a group near the stake, and had a foretaste of what was in reserve for each of them. As fast as one prisoner died under his tortures, another tilled his place, until the whole perish- ed. All this took place so near the fort, that every scream of the victims must have rung in the ears of the French commandant! Two or three days after this shocking spectacle, most of the Indian tribes dispersed and returned to their homes, as is usual with them after a great and decisive battle. Young Smith was demanded of the French by the tribe to whom he belonged, and was immediately surrendered in- to their hands. The party embarked in canoes, and ascended the Alle- gheny river, as far as a small Indian town about forty miles above fort Du Quesne. There they abandoned their canoes, and striking into the woods, traveled in a west- ern direction, until they arrived at a considerable Indian town, in what is now the state of Ohio. This village was called Tullihas, and was situated upon the western branch of the Muskingum. During the whole of this period. Smith suffered much anxiety, from the uncertainty of his future fate, but at this town all doubt was removed. On the morning of his arrival, the principal members of the tribe gathered around him^ and one old man with deep gravity, began to pluck out his hair by the roots, while the others looked on in silence, smoking their pipes with great deliberation. Smith did not understand the design of this singular JAMES SMITH. n ceremony, "but submitted very patiently to the man’s la- bors, who performed the operation of “ picking” him with great dexterity, dipping his fingers in ashes occasionally, in order to take a better hold. In a very few moments Smith’s head was bald, with the exception of a single long tuft upon the center of his crown, called the “scalp lock.” This was carefully plaited in such a manner as to stand upright, and was ornamented with several silver brooches- His ears and nose were then bored with equal gravity, and ornamented with ear-rings and nose jewels. He was then ordered to strip; which being done, his naked body was painted in various fantastic colors, and a breech-cloth fastened round his loins. A belt of wampum was then placed around his neck, and silver bands around his right arm. To all this Smith submitted with much anxiety, being totally ignorant of their customs, and dreading lest, like the British prisoners, he had been stripped and painted for the stake. Ilis alarm was increased, when an old chief arose, took him by the arm, and leading him out in- to the open air, gave three shrill whoops, and was instant- ly surrounded by every inhabitant of the village, warriors, women, and children. The chief then addressed the crowd in a long speech, still holding Smith by the hand. When he had ceased speaking, he led Smith forward, and delivered him into the hands of three young Indian girls, who, grappling him without ceremony, towed him off to the river which ran at the foot of the hill, dragged him in the water up to his breast, and ail three suddenly clapping their hands upon his head, attempted to put him under. Utterly desperate at the idea of being drowned by these young ladies, Smith made a manful resistance ; the squaws persevered; and a prodigious splashing of the water took place, amidst loud peals of laughter from the shore. At length, one of the squaws became alarmed at tha furious struggles of the young whiteman, and cried out earnestly several times, “no hurt you! no hurt you!” Upon this agreeable intelligence, Smith’s resistance ceas- ed, and these gentle creatures plunged him under the water, and scrubbed him from head to foot with equal zesl 16 WESTERN ADVENTURE. and perseverance. As soon as they were satisfied, they led him ashore and presented him to the chief, shivering wi.th cold, and dripping with water. The Indians then dressed him in a ruffled shirt, leggins, and moccasins, va- riously ornamented, seated him upon a bearskin, and gave him a pipe, tomahawk, tobacco, pouch, flint, and steek The chiefs then took their seats by his side, and smoked for several minutes in deep silence, when the eldest deliv- ered a speech, through an interpreter, in the following words : “ My son, you are now one of us. Hereafter, you have nothing to fear. By an ancient custom, you have v een adopted in the room of a brave man, who has fallen; and every drop of white blood has been washed from your veins. We are now your brothers, and are bound by our law to love you, to defend you, and to avenge your injuries, as much as if you were born in our tribe.” He was then introduced to the members of the family into which he had been adopted, and was received by the whole of them with great demonstrations of regard. In the evening, he received an invitation to a great feasts and was there presented with a wooden bowl and spoon, and directed to fill the former from a huge kettle of boiled corn, and hashed venison. The evening concluded with a war dance, and on the next morning, the warriors of the tribe assembled, and leaving one or two hunters, to provide for their families in their absence, the rest march- ed off for the frontiers of Virginia. In leaving the vil- lage, the warriors observed the most profound silence, with the exception of their leader, who sung the travel- ing song, as it is called, and when some distance off, they discharged their rifles slowly, and in regular succession, beginning in front, and ending with the rear. As soon as the warrior^ had left them, Smith was invited to a dance, in whicL the Indian boys and young unmarried squaws assembled, and entertained themselves for several hours together. They formed in two lines facing each other, at the distance of about twenty feet. One of the young men held a gourd in his hand, filled with pebbles, or beads, which he rattled in such a manner as to produce music, and all the dancers singing in concert with their JAMES SMITH. 17 leader, moved forward in a line until the parties met; then retired, and repeated the same exercise for hours, without file least variation. Young Smith was merely a spectator in this scene, and his chief entertainment arose from observing the occasional symptoms of gallantry and coquetry which diversified the monotony of the dance. Heads were often bent close together as the two lines met, and soft whispers, Ogling glances, and an occasional gentle tap on the cheek, convinced Smith, that Indians are not so insensible to the charms of their squaws as has been represented. An Indian courtship is somewhat different from ours. With them, all the coyness, reserve, and pretty delays are con- fined to the gentlemen. The young squaws are bold, forward, and by no means delicate in urging their passion; and a particularly handsome or promising young hunter, is often reduced to desperate extremities, to escape the toils of these female Lotharios! Smith was uniformly treated with the greatest kindness, and was for some time particularly distressed by the pressing invitations to eat, which he . received from all quarters. With the Indians, it is uniformly the custom to invite every visitor to eat, as soon as he enters the wigwam; and if he refuses, they are much offended, regarding it as an evidence of hostility to them, and contempt for their house keeping. Smith, ignorant of this circumstance, was sometimes pressed to eat twenty times in a day, and ob- serving their dark and suspicious glances when he declin- ed their hospitality, he endeavored at length to satisfy them at the risk of stuffing himself to death. Making it a point to eat with all who invited him, he soon found himself in great favor, and in the course of a week after his adoption, an old chief honored him with an invitation to hunt with him. Smith readily consented. At the dis- tance of a few miles from the village, they discovered a number of buffalo tracks. The old Indian regarded them attentively, and followed them with great caution, stop- ping frequently to listen, and rolling his eyes keenly in every direction. Smith, surprised at this singular con- duct asked him why he did not push on more ra idly, and WESTERN ADVENTURE. ts endeavor to get a shot. “Hush!” said the Indian, shak ing his head, “ may be buffalo — may be Catawba!” Having at length satisfied himself that they were really buffalo, he pushed on more rapidly, and on the way, as signed his reasons for his hesitation. He said, that the Catawbas had long been at war with his tribe, and were the most cunning and wicked nation in the world. That a few years ago, they had secretly approached his camp in the night, and sent out a few* of their spies, mounted upon buffalo hoofs, who walked round their camp, and then returned to the main body. That.* in the morning, he and his warriors, perceiving their tracks, supposed a herd of buffalo to be ahead of them, and moved on rapidly in pursuit. That, they soon fell into the ambuscade, were fired on by the Catawbas, and many of them killed. The Catawbas, however, quickly gave way, and were pursued by his young men with great eagerness. But they had taken the precaution to stick a number of slender reeds in the grass, sharpened like a pen, and dipped in rattle snake’s poison, so that as his young men pursued them eagerly, most of them were artificially snake bitten, and lamed. That the Catawbas then turned upon them, over powered them, and took the scalps of all who had been lamed by the reeds. The old man concluded by shaking his head, and declaring that “ Catawba was a very bad In dian; a perfect devil for mischief.” Smith, however, was so unfortunate a few days after wards, as to fall into discredit with these simple people. He had been directed to go out and kill some venison for the squaws and children, who had suffered for several days, during the absence of the greater part of the warriors. As this was the first time that he had been intrusted with so weighty a commission alone, he determined to signalize his hunt by an unusual display of skill and enterprise. He, therefore, struck boldly into the v r oods, and at a few miles distance, falling upon afresh buffalo trail, he pushed on for several miles with great eagerness. Despairing, however, of overtaking them, as the evening came on, he began to retrace his steps, and as he had taken a con- siderable circuit, he determined to cut across the hills, and JAMES SMITH. reach the village by a shorter way- He soon became in- extricably involved in the mazes of the forest, and at dark, found himself completely bewildered. He fired his gun repeatedly, in hopes of being heard, but his signal was unanswered, and he wandered through the woods the whole night, totally unable to find his way home. Early in the morning,, the Indians, probably suspecting him for desertion, started out in pursuit of him, but ob- serving the zigzag manner in which the young woodsman had marched, they soon became satisfied of the truth, and their anger was changed to laughter and contempt. Smith’s rifle was taken from him, and a bow and arrow (the weapons of a boy) were placed in his hands; and although he was treated with undiminished kindness by all, yet it was evident, that it was mingled with compas- sion and contempt, for his ignorance of the woods. He was now placed under the particular care of Tontileaugo, his adopted brother, and a renowned hunter and warrior. With the aid of his directions, he soon learned all the mysteries of hunting. He trapped beaver, killed deer, bear, and buffalo with great readiness, and in the course of the winter, rose considerably in .reputation. The war- riors were still absent, and the women and children de- pended on them entirely for subsistence. Sometimes they were three days without food ; particu- larly, when the snow became hard, and the noise which they made in walking on the crust frightened the deer, so that they could not come within gunshot. Their only re- source then, was to hunt bear trees; that is, for large hollow trees in which bears lay concealed during the win- ter. The hole is generally from thirty to fifty feet from the ground, and they are often compelled to climb up and apply fire, in order to drive Bruin out, who obstinately maintains his ground until nearly stifled with smoke, and then sneezing and snuffling, and growling, he shows him- self at the mouth of his hole, for a little fresh air. The hunter stations himself below, and fires upon him as soon as he appears. Towards spring, the warriors generally return, and game is then killed in abundance. We shall here pause in our narrative, to mention 90m® 20 WESTERN ADVENTURE. traits of Indian character and manners, which, perhaps will be interesting to many of our readers, who have not had opportunities of informing themselves on the subject. The lives of the men are passed in alternate action of the most violent kind, and indolence the most excessive. Noth- ing but the pressing call of hunger will rouse them to much exertion. In the months of August and September, when roasting- ears are abundant, they abandon themselves to laziness, dancing and gaming, and can rarely be roused even to hunt, so long as their corn-fields will furnish them food. During these months they are generally seen lying down in idle contemplation, dancing with their squaws, playing at foot-ball, or engaged in a game resembling dice, of which they are immoderately fond. War and hunting are their only serious occupations, and all the drudgery of life de- volves upon the squaws. Smith gave high offence to the warriors by taking a hoe into his hands, and working with the squaws for half an hour, at a time when they were engaged in planting corn. They reprimanded him with some severity for his industry, observing, that it -was de- grading to a warrior to be engaged in labor like a squaw; and for the future he must learn to demean himself more loftily, always remembering that he was a member oi a warlike tribe, and a noble family. They are remarkably hospitable, always offering to a stranger the best that they have. If a warrior, upon en- tering a strange wigwam, is not immediately invited to eat, he considers himself deeply affronted, although he may have just risen from a meal at home. It is not enough on these occasions that ordinary food, such as venison or hommony, is offered. It is thought rude and churlish, not to set before their guest their greatest delicacies, such as sugar, bear’s oil, honey, and if they have it, rum. If there is no food of any kind in the house, which is often the case, the fact is instantly mentioned, and is at once ac- cepted as a sufficient apology. Smith was so unfortunate as to incur some reproach upon this subject also. While he and his adopted brother, Tontileaugo, were encamped vm the woodSf hunting, there came a hunter of the Wyan- JAMfcS SMITH. 24 dott tribe, who entered their camp, faint and hungry, hay- ing had no success in hunting, and consequently, having fasted for several days. Tontileaugo was absent at the time, but Smith received the visitor with great hospitality, (as he thought,) and gave him an abundant meal of hommony and venison. Shortly after the Wyandott’s departure, his brother, Tontileaugo, returned, and Smith informed him of the visit of the stran- ger, and of his hospitable reception. Tontileaugo listened with gravity, and replied : “ And I suppose, of course, you brought up some of the sugar and bear’s oil, which was left below in the canoe?” “No,” replied Smith, “I never thought of it; it was at too great a distance.” “Well, brother,” replied Tontileaugo, “you have behaved just like a Dutchman ! I can excuse it in you for this time, as you are young, and have been brought up among the white people ; but you must learn to behave like a warrior, and never be caught in such little actions ! Great actions* alone, can ever make a great man !” Their power of sustaining long continued fatigue is as extraordinary. Even their squaws will travel as fast as an ordinary horse, and pack an incredible quantity of baggage upon their backs. In the spring of 1758, a great quantity of game had been killed, at a considerable dis- tance from the village ; and all the inhabitants, including squaws and boys, turned out to bring it home. Smith was loaded with a large piece of buffalo, which, after packing two or three miles, he found too heavy for him, and was compelled to throw it down. One of the squaws laughed heartily, and coming up, relieved him of a large part of it, adding it to her own pack, which before, was equal to Smith’s. This, he says, stimulated him to greater exer- tion than the severest punishment would have done. Their warriors, for a short distance, are not swifter than the whites, but are capable of sustaining the exercise for an incredible length of time. An Indian warrior can run for twelve or fourteen hours without refreshment, and after a hasty meal, and very brief repose, appear com- S detely refreshed, and ready for a second course. Smith bund it more difficult to compete with them in this re- 22 WESTERN ADVENTURE. spent, than in any other. For although he ran with great swiftness for a few miles, he could not continue such violent exertion for a whole day. While he and his brother Tontiieaugo, were encamped at a distance from the others, they were much distressed from having to pack their meal from such a distance, and as three horses were constantly grazing near them, (for there was grass under the snow,) Tontiieaugo proposed that they should run them down, and catch them, it having been found impossible to take them in any other way. Smith, having but little relish for the undertakings urged the impossibility of success. But Tontiieaugo re- plied, that he had frequently run down bear, deer, elk, and buffalo, and believed, that in the course of a day and night, he could run down any four-footed animal, except the wolf. Smith observed, that, although deer were swifter than horses for a short distance, yet, that a horse could run much, longer than either the elk or buffalo, and that he was confident that they would tire themselves to no purpose. The other insisted upon making the expe- riment, at any rate ; and at daylight, on a cold day in February, and on a hard Tsnow several inches deep, the race began. The two hunters stripped themselves to their moccasons, and started at full speed. The horses were in high order, and very wild, but contented them- selves with running in a circle of six or seven miles cir cumference, and would not entirely abandon their usual grazing ground. At ten o’clock, Smith had dropped considerably astern, and before eleven, Tontiieaugo and the horses were out of sight ; the Indian keeping close at their heels, and ah lowing them no time for rest. Smith, naked as he was, and glowing with exercise, threw himself .upon the hard snow ; and having cooled himself in this manner, he re- mained stationary until three o’clock in the evening, when the horses again came in view, their flanks smoking like a seething kettle, and Tontiieaugo close behind them, running with undiminished speed. Smith being now per- fectly fresh, struck in ahead of Tontiieaugo, and compelled the horses to quicken their speed, while his Indian brother JAMES SMITH. 23 from behind, encouraged him to do his utmost, after shout, ing “ chako \ chokoa-nough !” (pull away! pull away, my boy ! ) Had Tontileaugo thought of resting, and committed the chase to Smith alone, for some hours, and then in his turn relieved him, they might have succeeded;, but neglecting this plan, they both continued the chase until dark, when, perceiving that the horses ran still with great vigor, they despaired of success, and returned to the camp, having tasted nothing since morning, and one of them at least, having run nearly one hundred miles. Tontileaugo was somewhat crest-fallen at the result of the race, and grum- bled not a little at their long wind ; but Smith assured him that they had attempted an impossibility, and he became reconciled to their defeat. Their discipline, with regard to their children, is not remarkably strict. Whipping is rare with them, and is considered the most disgraceful of all punishments. Ducking in cold water, is the ordinary punishment of mis- behavior; and as might be expected, their children are more obedient in winter than in summer. Smith, during his first winter’s residence among them, was an eye wit- ness to a circumstance, which we shall relate as a lively example of Indian manners. His brother, Tontileaugo, was married to a Wyandott squaw, who had had several children by a former husband. One of these children of- fended his step-father in some way, who, in requital, gave him the “strappado,” with a whip made of buffalo hide. The discipline was quite moderate, but the lad shout- ed very loudly, and soon brought out his Wyandott mother. She instantly took her child^s part with great animation. It was in vain that the husband explained the offence, and urged the moderation with which he had inflicted the pun- ishment. All would not do. “The child, she said, was no slave, to be beaten and scourged with a whip. His father had been a warrior, and a Wyandott, and his child was entitled to honorable usage. If he had offended his step-father, there was cold water enough to be had; let him be ducked until he would be brought to reason, and she would not utter a word of complaint- but a ‘buffalo WESTERN ADVENTURE. t ug’ was no weapon with which the son of a warrior ought to be struck: his father’s spirit was frowning in the skies at the degradation of his child.” Tontileaugo listened with great calmness to this indig- nant remonstrance; and having lit his pipe, strolled off, in order to give his squaw an opportunity of becoming cool. The offence however had been of too serious a nature, and his squaw, shortly after his departure, caught a horse, and taking her children with her, rode off to the Wyandott village, about forty miles distant. In the afternoon, Ton- tileaugo returned to his wigwam, and found no one there but Smith, an old man, and a boy. He appeared much troubled at his squaw’s refractory conduct, uttered some deep interjections; but finally did as most husbands are compelled to do — followed her to make his peace. They are remarkably superstitious, and hold their u conjurers” in great veneration. These dignitaries are generally old and decrepid. On the borders of Lake Erie, one evening a squaw came running into camp, where Smith, Tontileaugo, and a few others were repos- ing, after a long day’s journey, and alarmed them with the information, that two strange Indians, armed with ri- fles, were standing upon the opposite shore of a small creek, and appeared to be reconnoitering the camp. It was supposed they were Johnston Mohawks, and that they would shortly be attacked. Instantly the women and children were sent into the woods, and the warriors retir- ed from the light of the fires, taking their stations silently in the dark, and awaiting the enemy’s approach. Manetohcoa, their old conjurer, alone remained by the fire, regardless of the danger, and busily employed in his. necromantic art. To assist him in his labors, he had dy- ed feathers, the shoulder blade of a wildcat, and a large quantity of leaf tobacco. Thus accoutered, he conjured away, with great industry, in the light of the fire, and ex- posed to the most imminent danger, in case of an attack, as he was very lame, totally deaf, and miserably rheumatic. After a few minutes anxious expectation, old Manetohcoa called aloud upon his friends to return to the fire, assuring them that there was no danger. They instantly obeyed, JAMES SMITH. $5 with the utmost confidence, and their squaws and chil- dren were recalled, as if no further danger was to be apprehended. Upon coming up, they found old Mane- tohcoa enveloped in tobacco smoke, and holding the bone of the wildcat in his hand, upon which his eyes were fix- ed with great earnestness. He told them, after having burnt his feathers, fumiga ted himself with the tobacco, heated his blade bone, and pronounced his charm, that he expected to see a multitude of Mohawks arise upon the surface of the bone; but to his surprise, he saw only the figures of two wolves! He assured them that the woman had mistaken the wolves fbr Mohawks; and that no enemy was near them. The In- dians instantly composed themselves to rest, relying con- fidently upon the truth of the old man’s assertions. In the morning, to Smith’s astonishment, the tracks of two wolves were seen at the spot, where the squaw’s account had placed the Mohawks. The Indians expressed no surprise at this extraordinary confirmation of the old man’s skill in divination ; but Smith’s infidelity was pow- erfully shaken! Admitting the truth of the facts, (and from Colonel Smith’s high reputation for piety and integ- rity, we presume they cannot be questioned,) it must be acknowledged, either an extraordinary instance of saga- city, or else we must class it among those numerous fortu- nate circumstances, which occasionally have staggered the faith of much more learned men than Colonel Smith. Johnson’s superstition is well known; and Smith’s doubts may at least be pardoned. Their military principles are few and simple, but re- markable for sagacity, and singularly adapted to the character of the warfare in which they are generally en- gaged. Caution, perhaps, rather than boldness, is the leading feature of their system. To destroy their ene- my, at the least possible risk to themselves, is their great object. They are by no means, as has been sometimes supposed, destitute of discipline. Their manoeuvres are few, but in performing them, they are peculiarly alert, ready, and intelligent In forming a line, in protecting their flanks, by bodies arranged “ en potence,” or in form- 36 WESTERN ADVENTURE. ing a large hollow square, for the purpose of making head against a superior force, they are inferior to no troops in the world. Each movement is indicated by a loud whoop, of peculiar intonation, from their leader, and is irregular ly, but rapidly obeyed. The result is order; although during the progress of the movement, the utmost apparent confusion prevails. Nothing astonished them more, than the pertinacity with which Braddock adhered to European tactics, in the celebrated battle on the banks of the Monongahela. They often assured Smith that the long knives were fools : that they could neither fight nor runaway, but drew themselves up in close order, and stood still, as if to give their ene- mies the best possible opportunity of shooting them down at their leisure. Grant’s masquerade before the w alls of fort Du Quesne, also gave them much perplexity. A venerable Caughnewaughga chief, who had, in his youth, been a renowned warrior and counsellor, and who excell- ed all his cotemporaries in sagacity and benevolence, frequently told Smith, that Grant’s conduct was to him totally inexplicable* This general formed the advance of General Forbes in 1777. He marched with great secrecy and celerity through the woods, and appeared upon the hill above Du Quesne in the night. There he encamped, and by way of brava- do, caused the drums to beat, and the bagpipes to play, as if to inform the enemy of his arrival. At daylight, he was surrounded by Indians, who creeping up, under cover of bushes, gullies, &,c., nearly annihilated his army with- out any sensible loss to themselves. The old chief observed, “ that as the great art of w r ar consisted in am- bushing and surprising your enemy, and preventing yourself from being surprised, that Grant had acted like a skilful warrior in coming secretly upon them; but that his subsequent conduct in giving the alarm to his enemy, instead of falling upon him with the bayonet, was very extraordinary; that he could only account for it, by sup- posing that Grant, like too many other warriors, was fond rum, and had become drunk about daylight.” They have the most reign contempt for all book JAMES SMITH. 27 learning! Smith was occasionally in the habit of read- ing a few elementary English books, which he had procu red from traders, and lost credit among them by his fondness for study. Nothing, with them, can atone for a practical ignorance of the woods. We have seen, that, for losing himself, Smith was degraded from the rank of a warrior, and re- duced to that of a boy. Two years afterwards, he regained his rank, and was presented with a ride, as a reward for an exhibition of hardihood and presence of mind. In company with the old chief, to whom we have just referred, and several other Indians, he was engaged in hunting. A deep snow was upon the ground, and the weather was tempestuous. On their way home, a num- ber of raccoon tracks were seen in the snow, and Smith was directed to follow them, and observe where they treed. He did so, but they led him off to a much greater dis- tance than was supposed, and the hunters were several miles ahead of him, when he attempted to rejoin them. At first their tracks were very plain in the snow, and although night approached, and the camp was distant, Smith felt no anxiety. But about dusk, his situation be- came critical* The weather became suddenly much colder, the wind blew a perfect hurricane, and whirlwinds of snow blinded his eyes, and filled up the tracks of his companions. He had with him neither a gun, flint, nor steel; no shelter but a blanket, and no weapon but a tom- ahawk. He plodded on for several hours, ignorant of his route, stumbling over logs, and chilled with cold, until the snow became so deep, as seriously to impede his progress, and the flakes fell so thick, as to render it impossible to soe where he was going. He shouted aloud for help, but no answer was returned, and as the storm every instant became more outrageous, he began to think that his hour had come. Providentially, in stumbling on through the snow, he came to a large sycamore, with a considerable opening on the windward side. He hastily crept in and found the hollow sufficiently large to accommodate him for the night, if the weather side could be closed so as to exclude the 28 WESTERN ADVENTURE. snow and wind, which was beating against it with great violence. He instantly went to work with his tomahawk and cut a number of sticks, which he placed upright against the hole, and piled brush against it in great quan- tities, leaving a space open for himself to creep in. He then broke up a decayed log, and cutting it into small pieces, pushed them one by one into the hollow of the tree, and lastly, crept in himself. With these pieces, he stopped up the remaining holes of his den, until not a chink was left to admit the light. The snow, drifting in large quantities, was soon banked up against his defen- ces, and completely sheltered him from the storm, which still continued to rage with undiminished fury. He then danced violently in the center of his den for two hours, until he was sufficiently warmed, and wrapping himself in his blanket, he slept soundly until morning. He awoke in utter darkness, and groping about, he found his door and attempted to push it away, but the snow had drifted against it in such quantities, that it re- sisted his utmost efforts. His hair now began to bristle, an l d he feared that he had, with great ingenuity, contrived to bury himself alive. He laid down again for several hours, meditating upon what he should do, and whether he should not attempt to cut through the tree with his tomahawk; but at length he made one more desperate ef- fort to push away the door, and succeeded in moving it several inches, when a great bank of snow fell in upon him from above, convincing him at once of the immense quantity which had fallen. He at length burrowed his way into the upper air, and found it broad day light, and the weather calm and mild. The snow lay nearly four feet deep ; but he was now enabled to see his way clear- ly, and by examining the barks of the trees, was enabled to return to camp. He was received with loud shouts of joy and congratu- lation, but not a single question was asked until he had despatched a hearty meal of venison, hommony, and sugar. The old chief, Tecaughnetanego, whom we have already mentioned, then presented him with his own pipe, and they all remained silent until Smith had smoked. When they JAMES SMITH. 29 saw him completely refreshed, the venerable chief ad- dressed him in a mild and affectionate manner, (for Smith at that time, was a mere boy with them,) and desired to hear a particular account of the manner in which he had passed the night. Not a word was spoken until Smith concluded his story, and then he was greeted on all sides with shouts of approbation. Tecaughnetanego arose and addressed him in a short speech, in which his courage, hardihood, and presence of mind, were highly commended. He was exhorted to go on as he had begun, and assured, that one day he would make a very great man; that all his brothers rejoiced in his safety, as much as they had lamented his supposed death; that they were preparing snow shoes to go in search of him when he appeared; but as he had been brought up effeminately among the whites, they never expected to see him alive. In conclusion, he was promoted from the rank of a boy to that of a warrior, and assured, that when they sold skins in the spring, at Detroit, they would pur- chase for him a new rifle. And they faithfully obs-erved their promise. They are extravagantly fond of rum; but drinking does not with them, as with the whites, form a part of the reg- ular business of life. They occasionally indulge in a wild and frantic revel, which sometimes lasts several days, and then return to their ordinary habits. They cannot husband their liquor, for the sake of prolonging the pleas- ure of toping. It is used with the most reckless profu- sion while it lasts, and all drink to beastly intoxication. Their squaws are as fond of liquor as the warriors, and share in all their excesses. After the party to which Smith belonged, had sold their beaver skins, and provided themselves with ammunition and blankets, all their surplus cash was expended in rum, which was bought by the keg. They then held a coun- cil, in which a few strong bodied hunters were selected to remain sober, and protect the rest during the revel, for which they were preparing. Smith was courteously in- vited to get drunk, but upon his refusal, he was told that he must then join the sober party, and assist in keeping order* WESTERN ADVENTURE. 30 This, as he quickly found, was an extremely dangerous office; but before engaging in the serious business of drinking, the warriors carefully removed their tomahawks and knives, and took every precaution against bloodshed. A shocking scene then commenced. Rum was swallowed in immense quantities, and their wild passions were stim- ulated to frenzy! Smith and the sober party, were ex- posed to the most imminent peril, and were compelled to risk their lives every moment. Much injury was done, but no lives were lost. In the Ottawa camp, where the same infernal orgies were celebrated, the result was more tragical. Several warriors were killed on the spot, and a number more wounded. So long as they had money, the revel was kept up day and night, but when their funds were ex- hausted, they gathered up their dead and wounded, and with dejected countenances, returned to the wilderness. All had some cause of lamentation. The blanket of one had been burnt, and he had no money to buy another; the fine clothes of another had been torn from his back; some had been maimed; and all had improvidently wasted their money. The religion of the Indians, although defaced by super- stition, and intermingled with many rites and notions which to us appear absurd, contains, nevertheless, a dis- tinct acknowledgment of the existence of a Supreme Be- ing, and a future state. The various tribes are represent- ed by Dr. Robertson as polytheists; and Mr. Hume con- siders polytheism as inseparably attendant upon the sav- age state- It appears, however, that the western Indians approached more nearly to simple deism, than most savage nations with whom we have been heretofore acquainted. One Great Spirit is universally worshipped throughout the West; although different tribes give him different names- In the immense prairies of the West, he is gen- erally termed the Wahcondah, or master of life. With the Indians of the lakes, he was generally termed Manit- to, which we believe means simply “The Spirit!” In the language of Smith’s tribe he was known by the titla of ^Owaneeyo,” or the possessor of all things- JAMES SMITH. 81 Human sacrifices are very common among the tribes living west of the Mississippi; but I have seen no evi- dence of such a custom among those of the North-west. Tecaughnetanego, the veteran chief whom we have al- ready mentioned, was esteemed the wisest and most venerable of his own nation; and his religious opinions, perhaps, may be regarded as a very favorable sample of Indian theology. We shall take the liberty of detailing several conversations of this old chief, particularly upon religious subjects, which to us, were the most interesting passages of Smith’s diary; growing, as they did, out of a situation, which required the exercise of some philoso- phy, and reliance upon Providence. We have already adverted to the precarious nature of the Indian supplies of food, dependant as they are, upon the woods for their meat, and liable to frequent failures from the state of the weather, and other circumstances over which they hav# no control. It so happened that Smith, together with Tontileau- go and the old chief, Tecaughnetanego, were encamp- ed at a great distance from the rest of the tribe, and during the early part of the winter, they were very suc- cessful in hunting, and were abundantly supplied with all necessaries. Upon the breach between Tontileaugo and his wife, however, Smith and the old chief were left in the woods, with no other company than that of Nungany, a little son of the latter, not more than ten years old. Tecaughnetanego, notwithstanding his age, ^ which ex* ceeded sixty,) was still a skilful hunter, and capable of great exertion when in good health; but, unfortunately, was subject to dreadful attacks of rheumatism, during which, in addition to the most excruciating pain, he was incapable of moving his limbs, or helping himself in any way. Smith was but a }mung hunter, and Nungany to* tally useless except as a cook; but w hile Tecaughnetanego retained the use of his limbs, notwithstanding the loss of Tontileaugo, they killed gams very abundantly. About the middle of January, however, the weather be- came excessively cold, and the old chief was stretched &ipQjo the floor of his wigwrm 3 totally unable to t2 WESTERN ADVENTURE. The whole care of the family now devolved upon Smith, and his exertions were not wanting. But from his youth and inexperience, he was unable to provide as plentifully as Tontileaugo had done, and they were reduced to very short allowance. The old chief, notwithstanding the ex- cruciating pain which he daily suffered, always strove to mtertain Smith, at night, with agreeable conversation, and instructed him carefully and repeatedly in the art of hunting. At length the snow became hard and crusty, and the noise of Smith’s footsteps frightened the deer, so that, with the utmost caution he could use, he was unable o get within gunshot. The family, in consequence, were upon the eve of starvation. One evening, Smith entered the hut, faint and weary, after a hunt of two days, during which he had eaten noth- ing. Tecaughnetanego had fasted for the same length of time, and both had been upon short allowance for a week. Smith came in very moodily, and laying aside his gun and powder horn, sat down by the fire in silence. Te- caughnetanego inquired mildly and calmly, what success he had had. Smith answered that they must starve, as the deer were so wild that he could not get within gunshot, and it was too far to go to any Indian settlement for food. The old man remained silent for a moment, and then in the same mild tone, asked him if he was hungry ? Smith replied, that the keen appetite seemed gone, but that he felt sick and dizzy, and scarcely able to walk. “ I have made Nungany hunt up some food for you, brother,” said the old man kindly, and bade him produce it. This food was nothing more than the bones of a fox and wildcat,- which had been thrown into the woods a few days before and which the buzzards had already picked almost bare. Nungany had collected and boiled them, until the sin ews were stripped of the flesh, intending them for himsell and father, both of whom were nearly famished; but the old man had put them away for Smith, in case he shoulo again return without food. Smith quickly threw himself upon this savoury soup, and swallowed spoonful after spoon ful, with the voracity of a wolf. Tecaughnetanego waited patiently until he had finished his meal, which continued JAMES SMITH. 33 until the last spoonful had been swallowed, and then handing him his own pipe, invited him to smoke. Little Nungany, in the mean time, removed the kettle, after looking in vain for some remnant of the feast for his own supper. He had watched every mouthful which Smith swallowed with eager longing, but in perfect silence, and finding, that for the third night, he must remain supper less, he sat down quietly at his father’s feet, and was soon asleep. Tecaughnetanego, as soon as Smith had smoked, asked him if he felt refreshed,* and upon receiving an animated assurance in the affirmative, he addressed him mildly as follows : “I saw, my brother, when you first came in, that you had been unfortunate in hunting, and were ready to despair. I should have spoken at the time, what I am now about to say, but I have always observed, that hun- gry people are not in a temper to listen to reason. You are now refreshed, and can listen patiently to the words of your elder brother. I was once young like you, but am now old. I have seen sixty snows fall, and have often been in a worse condition, from want of food, than we now are; yet I have always been supplied, and that, too, at the very time when I was ready to despair. Brother: you have been brought up among the whites, and have not had the same opportunities of seeing how wonderful- ly Owaneeyo provides food for his children in the woods ! He sometimes lets them be in great want, to teach them that they are dependant upon him, and to remind them of their own weakness ; but he never permits them absolutely to perish. Rest assured that your brother is telling you no lie; but be satisfied that he will do as I have told you. Go now: sleep soundly; rise early in the morning and go out to hunt $• be strong and diligent; do your best, and trust to Owaneeyo for the rest.” When we recollect that this admirable speech came from a wild Indian, totally uninstructed, and untaught to restrain his passions ; that at the very time, he was suffer- ing the most excruciating pain, both from disease and hun- ger; that he had denied himself a morsel of food, in order to bestow it upon Smith; and, lastly, that from the state of 34 WESTERN ADVENTURE, the snow and Smith’s inexperience, he had no human pros* pect of relief; it is no exaggeration to say, that a more striking example of wisdom, mildness, and magnanimity, was never exhibited. Smith was powerfully struck by the old man’s reason- ing; and still more affected by the patience and firmness with which he sustained himself, under the complicated puffering with which he was visited. In the morning, at daylight, he seized his gun, and commenced the duties of tiie day with great spirit. He saw a great many deer, but the crashing of the crust alarmed them as heretofore; and after hunting until noon without success, he began to suspect that Tecaughnetanego must have been mistaken, and that they were certainly destined to starve. Hia hunger seemed rather whetted than allayed by his sump- tuous repast upon wildcat bones, the evening before, and now became so ravenous as to divest him of all reason, and he determined to run back to Pennsylvania. True, the intervening country was crowded with hostile Indians, but the edge of the tomahawk was not keener than that of hunger; and a sharp and quick death, infinitely prefer- rable to the slow and torturing ravages of starvation. Having hastily adopted this desperate resolution, he quickened his pace, and moved off steadily in the direction of Pennsylvania. He had not gone more than seven or eight miles, before he heard the lowing of buffalo in fronts and in a few minutes, came in view of a noble herd, march- ing leisurely ahead of him. He ran with great rapidity in such a direction as to head them, and concealing himself in a thicket, awaited their approach. They passed leisurely within a few yards of him, so that he had an opportunity of selecting a fat heifer, which he killed at the first fire. He quickly struck fire from his flint — and cutting a few slices from the fleshiest part, he laid it upon the coals, but could not wait until it was done. After gorg- ing himself with raw beef, which (with the exception of the wildcat bones of the preceding night,) he thought the most delicious food he had ever tasted, he began to be tenderly concerned for the old man and little boy, whom he had left in a famishing condition at the wigwam. JAMES SMITH. as His conscience reproached him for leaving them to per- ish; and he instantly loaded himself heavily with the fat- test and fleshiest pieces, and having secured the rest from the wolves, returned to their camp, with as much expedi- tion as he could exert. It was late at night when he en- tered the wigwam. Tecaughnetanego received him with the same mild equanimity which had heretofore distin- guished him, and thanked him very affectionately for the exertions which he had used, while the eyes of the fam- ished boy were fastened upon the beef as if he would de- vour it raw. His father ordered him to hang on the ket- tle and cook some beef for them all ; but Smith declared that he himself would cook for the old man, while Nun- gany broiled some meat upon the coals for himself. The boy looked eagerly at his father for his consent, and re- ceiving a nod in reply, he sprung upon the meat as a kite would pounce upon a pullet, and unable to wait for the slow operation of the fire, began to eat it raw. Smith in the mean time had cut several very thin slices and placed them in the kettle to boil; but supposing Te- caughnetanego as impatient as himself, he was about to take it off the fire after a very few minutes, when the old man, in a tone as calm and quiet as if he had not fasted for three whole days, desired him to “let it be done enough.” At the same time he ordered Nungany, who was still eating like a shark, to take no more at present, but to sit down, and after a few minutes he might sup a little broth. The old man then reminded Smith of their conversation the night before; and of the striking truth with which his assurance of Owaneeyo’s goodness had been accomplished. At length he desired Smith to give him the beef, observing that it had been boiled enough; and, as if he had reserved all his vigor for that moment, he assaulted it with a keenness and perseverance, which showed that the gifts of Owaneeyo were not thrown away. In the morning, Tecaughnetanego requested Smith to return to the spot where he had killed the buffalo, and bring in the rest of it to camp. He accordingly took down his rifle and entered the wood, intending to hunt on the road. At the distance of a few miles from 36 WESTERN ADVENTURE. camp, he saw a large elm, which had been much scratched, and perching a hole in it at the distance of forty feet from the ground, he supposed that a bear had selected it for his winter quarters, and instantly determined to rouse him from his slumbers. With his tomahawk, he cut down a sapling which grew near the tree, in such a manner as to lodge it against the den. He then cut a long pole, and tied a few bunches of rotten wood to the end of it. Taking it then in his hand, he climbed the sapling, until he reached the mouth of the den, and setting fire to the rotten wood, put it into the hollow as far as he could reach. He soon had the gratification of hearing poor Bruin sneeze and cough, as if in great trouble; and rap- idly sliding down the sapling, he seized his gun at the moment the bear showed himself. He instantly shot him, and having loaded himself with the hind quarters, he marched back in high spirits to the wigwam. They were now well provided for a week; and in a few days the snow thawed so much as to enable him to kill deer; so that during the rest of the winter, they fared sumptuously. Early in April, Tecaughnetanego’s rheumatism abated so much as to permit him to walk, upon which, they all three built a bark canoe, and descended the Ollentangy, until the water became so shallow as to endanger their frail bark among the rocks. A council was then held, in which Tecaughnetanego proposed to go ashore, and pray for rain to raise the creek or river so as to enable them to continue their journey. Smith readily consented, and they accordingly disembarked, drawing their canoe ashore after them. Here the old Indian built a “sweating house, 1 ’ in order to purify himself, before engaging in his religious duties. He stuck a number of semicircular hoops in the ground, and laid a blanket over them. He then heated a number of large stones, and placed them under the blanket, and finally crawled in himself, with a kettle of water in his hand, directing Smith to draw down the blanket after him, so as almost entirely to exclude the external air. He then poured the water upon the hot stones, and began to sing aloud with great energy, the steam rising from the JAMES SMITH. 37 blanket like a heavy mist. In this hot place he continued for fifteen minutes, singing the whole time, and then came out dripping with perspiration from head to foot. As soon as he had taken breath, he began to burn tobacco, throw- ing it into the fire by handfuls, and at the same time re- peating the following words in a tone of deep and solemn earnestness : “Oh Great Owaneeyo! I thank thee that I have re- gained the use of my legs once more; that I am now able to walk about and kill turkeys, without feeling exquisite pain. Oh! ho! ho! ho! Grant that my knees and ankles may be right well, that I may be able not only to walk, but to run and to jump logs, as I did last fall! Oh! ho! ho! ho! Grant that, upon this voyage we may frequently kill bears as they may be crossing the Sandusky and Sci- oto! Oh! ho! ho! ho! Grant that we may also kill a few turkeys to stew with our bear’s meat! Oh! ho! ho! ho! Grant that rain may come to raise the Ollentangy a few feet, that we may cross in safety down to Scioto, with- out splitting our canoe upon the rocks. And now, O Great Owaneeyo! thou knowest how fond I am of tobacco, and though I do not know when I shall get any more, yet you see that I have freely given up all I have for a burnt- offering; therefore, I expect that thou wilt be merciful and hear all my petitions; and I, thy servant, will thank thee, and love thee for all thy gifts.” Smith held the old chief in great veneration, and has observed, that he never in his life listened to a man who reasoned more clearly and powerfully upon such subjects as came before him; and he heard the first part of his prayer with great respect and due gravity: but when the attention of Owaneeyo was called to the tobacco, which his votary bestowed upon him so liberally, his muscles gave way, and in spite of his efforts to restrain himself, he burst into a low and half stifled laugh. Ridicule is at all times formidable, but particularly so in a moment of enthusiasm and sincere devotion. Tecaughnetanego was deeply and seriously offended, and rebuked his young companion in the following words : “Brother, I have somewhat to say to you! When you 38 WESTERN ADVENTURE. were reading your books in our village, you know I would not let the boys plague you, or laugh at you, although we all thought it a foolish and idle occupation in a warrior. I respected your feelings then; but just now I saw you laughing at me! Brother, I do not believe that you look upon praying as a silly custom, for you sometimes pray yourself. Perhaps you think my mode of praying foolish, but if so, would it not be more friendly to reason with me, and instruct me, than to sit on that log ami laugh at an old man?” Smith apologized with great earnestness, declaring that he respected and loved him sincerely, but that when he caw him throw the last of his tobacco into the fire, and recollected how fond he was of it, he could not help smit- ing a little, although for the future he would never have reason to complain of him on that account. The old man, without saying a word, handed him his pipe as a token of friendship, although it was filled only with willow bark; and the little difference was soon forgotten-. Smith then explained to him the outlines of the Chris- tian religion, and dwelt particularly upon the doctrine of reconciliation through the atonement of Christ. Tecaugb- netanego listened with patience and gravity until hie companion had ended his remarks, and then calmly observ- ed, that “it might he so!” He even acknowledged, “ that it did not appear so absurd, as the doctrine of the Romish priests, which he had heard at Detroit, but declared that he was too old now to change his religion ; that he should, therefore, continue to worship God after the manner of his fathers; and if it was not consistent with the honor of the Great Spirit to accept of him in that way , then he hoped that he would receive him upon such terms as were acceptable to him ; that it was his earnest and sincere de- sire to worship the Great Spirit, and obey his wishes; and he hoped that Owaneeyo would overlook such faults as arose from ignorance and weakness, not willful neglect.” To a speech of this kind, the sentiments of which find an echo in almost every breast, Smith could make no reply. Here, therefore, the subject ended. A few days afterward, there came a fine rain, and tht JAMES SMITH. 39 #llentangy was soon sufficiently deep to admit of their passage in safety, and after reaching the Sandusky they killed four bears and a great many wild turkeys. Te- caughnetanego gravely assured Smith, that this was a clear and direct answer to his prayer, and inferred from it, that his religion could not be as unacceptable to Owaneo- yo as Smith supposed. Perhaps it would be- difficult to disprove the first part of the old Indian’s observation : tb last is more questionable. We have already gleaned all the most interesting parts of Smith’s narrative, for the long details of huntings, trappings, and migrations, without particular object or in- cident, would scarcely be interesting to the reader. We have endeavored to select such circumstances, as would givei the general reader a lively idea of the habits and opinions of the western Indians, without burdening our narrative with too much detail. As most, if not all the subsequent adventures, will have a close connection with Indian life, it was thought proper to commence with a narrative which should throw some light upon that subject. It is only necessary, further, to observe, that in the sum- mer of 1759, and in the fourth year of his captivity or rather adoption, Smith, accompanied by Tecaughnetanego and Nungany, sailed in a bark canoe down the St. Law- rence, as far as Montreal. Here he privately left his Indian companions, and went cm board a French transport, which he had heard was about to sail, with a number of English prisoners on board, in- tended to be exchanged. After having been detained come time in Montreal, in consequence of the English fleet being below, he was at length exchanged and return- ed to his native country. His family and sweetheart received him with great joy; but to his inexpressible mortification, the latter had been married only a few days before his arrival. His subsequent adventures, although novel and interesting, do not properly come within the range of our present subject. We refer the reader, who may desire to know more, to Colonel Smith’s own narra- tive, which has recently been reprinted by John Grigg of Philadelphia. 40 WESTERN ADVENTURE. CHAPTER IL The adventures, which in order of time, should come next, are those of the celebrated Daniel Boone ; for of Findley, said to be the first white man who ever visited Kentucky, nothing is known, but the simple fact that he lid visit it, first alone, and afterwards in company with Boone. It is much to be regretted, that the materials for a sketch of Boone are so scanty. He has left us a brief account of his adventures, but they are rather such as one would require for the composition of an epitaph, than of a biography. The leading incidents are mentioned in a general way, and there are some gaudy and ambitious sketches of scenery which swell the bulk of the piece, without either pleasing the imagination or gratifying the curiosity. It would seem that the brief notes of the plain old woodsman, had been committed to some young sciolist in literature, who thought that flashy description could atone for barrenness of incident. A general summary of remarkable events, neither ex- cites nor gratifies curiosity, like a minute detail of all the circumstances connected with them. This trait, so -essen- tial to the interest of narratives, and of which perhaps the most splendid example in existence, has been given in Mr. Cooper’s “ Last of the Mohicans,” is deplorably wanting in most of the materials to which we have had access. A novelist may fill up the blank from his own imagination ; but a writer who professes to adhere to truth, is fettered down to the record before him. If, therefore, in the following details, we should be found guilty of the unpardonable sin of dullness, we hope that at least a por- tion of the blame will fall upon the scantiness of the ma- terials. Of Mr. Boone’s early youth, nothing is known. He has modestly forborne to say any thing of himself, except so far as he is connected with the settlement of Kentucky. He was born in Virginia; but instigated by that roving spirit which distinguished him throughout life, he emigra DANIEL BOONE. 41 ted at an early period to North Carolina, and hve<* mtil his fortieth year upon the banks of the Yadkin. In ' /67 Findley returned from his adventurous journey, and brought with him a report of a large tract of fertile coun- try, totally unoccupied, and abounding in every variety of game, from the beaver to the buffalo. To a man like Boone, fond of hunting, and naturally attached to a roving and adventurous life, such a scene presented irresistible charms. Accordingly, in 1769, he left his family upon the Yadkin, and in company with five others, of whom Findley was one, he moved in a western direction, being determined to explore that country of which he had heard so favorable an account. On the 7th of June they reached Red river, and from a neighboring eminence were enabled to survey the vast plain of Kentucky. Here they built a cabin, in order to afford them a shelter from the rain which had fallen in immense quantities on their march, and remained in a great measure stationary until December, killing a great, quantity of game immediately around them. Immense herds of buffalo ranged through the forest in every direc- tion, feeding upon the leaves of the cane or the rich and spontaneous fields of clover. On the 22d of December, Boone and John Stuart, one of his companions, left their encampment, and following one of the numerous paths which the buffalo had made through the cane, they plunged boldly into the interior of the forest. They had as yet seen no Indians, and the country had been reported as totally uninhabited. This was true in a strict sense, for although the southern and northwestern tribes were in the habit of hunting here as upon neutral ground, yet not a single wigwam had been erected, nor did. the land bear the slightest mark of having ever been cultivated. The different tribes would fall in with each other, and from the fierce conflicts which generally followed these casual rencounters, the country had been known among them by the name of « the dark and bloody ground /” The two adventurers soon learned the addi- tional danger to which they were exposed. While roving carelessly from canebrake to canebrake, and admiring the 43 WESTERN ADVENTURE. rank growth of vegetation, and the variety of timber which marked the fertility of the soil, they were suddenly alarmed by the appearance of a party of Indians, who, springing from their place of concealment, rushed upon them with a rapidity which rendered escape impossible. They were almost instantly seized, disarmed, and made prisoners. Their feelings may be readily imagined. They were in the hands of an enemy who knew no alter- native between adoption and torture; and the numbers and fleetness of their captors, rendered escape by open meanj impossible, while their jealous vigilance seemed equally fatal to any secret attempt. Boone, however, was pos- sessed of a temper admirably adapted to the circumstan- ces in which he was placed. Of a cold and saturnine, rather than an ardent disposition, he was never either so much elevated by good fortune or depressed by bad, as Vo lose for an instant the full possession of all his faculties. He saw that immediate escape was impossible, but be encouraged his companion, and constrained himself to ae~ company the Indians in all their excursions, with so calm and contented an air, that their vigilance insensibly be- gai lo relax. On the seventh evening of their captivity, they en- camped in a thick canebrake, and having built a large fire, lay down to rest. The party whose duty it was to watch, were weary and negligent, and about midnight, Boone, who had not closed an eye, ascertained from the deep breathing all around him, that the whole party, in- cluding Stuart, was in a deep sleep. Gently and gradu- ally extricating himself from the Indians who lay around him, he walked cautiously to the spot where Stuart lay, and having succeeded in awakening him, without alarming the rest, he briefly informed him of his determination, and exhorted him to arise, make no noise, and follow him* Stuart, although ignorant of the design, and suddenly roused from sleep, fortunately obe)'ed with equal silence and celerity, and within a few' minutes they were beyond shearing. Rapidly traversing the forest, by the light of the stars and the barks of the trees, they ascertained the direction DANIEL BOONE. 43 in which the camp lay, but upon reaching it on the next day, to their great grief, they found it plundered and de- serted, with nothing remaining to show the fate of their companions: and even to the day of his death, Boono knew not whether they had been killed or taken, or had voluntarily abandoned their cabin and returned. Here, in a few days, they w r ere accidentally joined by Boone’* brother and another man, who had followed them from Carolina, and fortunately stumbled upon their camp. This accidental meeting in the bosom of a vast wilderness, gave great relief to the two brothers, although their joy was soon overcast. Boone and Stuart, in a second excursion, were again pursued by savages, and Stuart was shot and scalped, while Boone fortunately escaped. As usual, he has not mentioned particulars, but barely stated the event. Within a few days they sustained another calamity, if possible, still more distressing. Their only remaining companion was benighted in a hunting excursion, and while encamped in the woods alone, was attacked and devoured by the wolves. The two brothers were thus left in the wilderness, alone, separated by several hundred miles from home, surround ed by hostile Indians, and destitute of every thing but their rifles. After having had such melancholy experi- ence of the dangers to which they were exposed, w-o would naturally suppose that their fortitude would have given way, and that they would instantly have returned to the settlements. But the most remarkable feature in Boone’s character, was a calm and cold equanimity which rarely rose to enthusiasm, and never sunk to despond- ence. His courage undervalued the danger to w hich he was exposed, and his presence of mind, which never forsook him, enabled him, on all occasions, to take the best means of avoiding it. The wilderness, with all its dangers and privations, had a charm for him, which is scarcely con- ceivable by one brought up in a city; and he determined to remain alone, while his brother returned to Carolina for an additional supply of ammunition, as their original supply was nearly exhausted. His situation we should WESTERN ADVENTURE. 44 now suppose in the highest degree gloomy and dispiriting. The dangers which attended his brother on his return were nearly equal *to his own ; and each had left a wife and children, which Boone acknowledged cost him many an anxious thought. But the wild and solitary grandeur of the country around him, where not a tree had been cut, nor a house erected, was to him an inexhaustible source of admiration and delight,- and he says himself, that some of the most rapturous moments of his life were spent in those lonely rambles. The utmost caution was necessary to avoid the savages, and scarcely less to escape the ravenous hunger of the wolves that prowled nightly around him in immense numbers. He was compelled frequently to shift his lodging, and by undoubted signs, saw that the Indians had repeatedly visited his hut during his absence. He sometimes lay in canebrakes, without fire, and heard the yells of the Indians around him. Fortunately, however, he never encountered them. On the 27th of July, 1770, his brother returned with a supply of ammunition; and with a hardihood, which ap- pears almost incredible, they ranged through the country in every direction, and without injury, until March, 1771. They then returned to North Carolina, where Daniel re- joined his family, after an absence of three years, during nearly the whole of which time he had never tasted bread or salt, nor seen the face of a single white man, with the excerption of his brother, and the two friends who had been killed. He here determined to sell his farm, and remove, with his family, to the wilderness of Kentucky; an astonishing instance of hardihood, and we should even say indifference to his family, if it were not that his char- acter has uniformly been represented as mild and humane, as it was bold and fearless. Accordingly, on the 25th of September, 1771, having disposed of all the property which he could not take with him, he took leave of his friends and commenced his jouiv ney to the west. A number of milch cows, and horses, laden with a few necessary household utensils, formed the whole of his baggage. His wife and children were DANIEL BOON*. 45 mounted on horseback and accompanied him, every one regarding them as devoted to destruction. In Powell’s valley they were joined by five more families and forty men well armed. Encouraged by this accession of strength, they advanced with additional confidence, but had soon a severe warning of the further dangers which awaited them. When near Cumberland mountain, their rear was suddenly attacked with great fury by a scouting party of Indians, and thrown into considerable confusion. The party, however, soon rallied, and being accustom- ed to Indian warfare, returned the fire with such spirit and effect, that the Indians were repulsed with slaughter. Their own loss, however, had been severe. Six men were killed upon the spot, and one wounded. Among the killed was Boone’s eldest son, to the unspeakable afflic- tion of his family. The disorder and grief occasioned by this rough reception, seems to have affected the emigrants deeply, as they instantly retraced their steps to the set- tlements on Clinch river, forty miles from the scene of action. Here they remained until June, 1774, probably at the request of the women, who must have been greatly alarmed at the prospect of plunging more deeply into a country, upon the skirts of which, they had witnessed so keen and bloody a conflict. At this time, Boone, at the request of Governor Dun- more, of Virginia, conducted a number of surveyors to the falls of Ohio, a distance of eight hundred miles. Of the incidents of this journey, we have no record whatever. After his return, he was engaged under Dunmore until 1775 in several affairs with the Indians, and at the solicit- ation of some gentlemen of North Carolina, he attended at a treaty with the Cherokees, for the purpose of pur- chasing the lands south of Kentucky river. With his usual brevity, Boone has omitted to inform us of the par- ticulars of this conference, or of the peculiar character of the business upon which he was sent. By the aid of Mr. Marshall’s valuable history, however, we are enabled to supply this silence, at least with regard to the latter cir- cumstance. It seems that the Cherokees, living within the charter * 4j6 WESTERN ADVENTURE. ed limits of the state of North Carolina, claimed all me. land south of the Kentucky as far as Tennessee river. That Colonel Richard Henderson and some other gentle- men, animated by the glowing description of the fertility of the soil, which Boone and his brother had given upon their return, determined to purchase the whole of this im- mense tract from the Cherokees, and employ Boone as their agent. The Cherokees gladly parted with an empty title, for a solid, although moderate recompense, and Hen- derson and his friends instantly prepared to take posses- sion, relying upon the validity of their deed from the In- dians. Unfortunately, however, for the success of these speculators, Kentucky lay within the limits of Virginia, according to the old charter of King James,, and that state accordingly claimed for herself solely, the privilege of purchasing the Indian title to lands lying within her own limits. She lost no time therefore, in pronouncing the treaty of Henderson null and void, as it regarded his own title; although, by rather an exceptionable process of reasoning, they determined that it was obligatory upon the Indians, so far as regarded the extinction of their title. Whether or not the reasoning was good, I cannot pretend to say;^ but, supported as it was by a powerful state, it was made good, and Henderson’s golden dreams completely vanish- ed. He and his associates, however, received a liberal grant of land lying on Green river, as a compensation for the expense and danger which they had incurred in pros- ecuting their settlement. It was under the auspices of Henderson, that Boone’s next visit to Kentucky was made. Leaving his family on Clinch river, he set out at the head of a few men, to mark, out a road for the pack horses or wagons of Henderson’s party. This laborious and dangerous duty, he executed with his usual patient fortitude, until he came within fif- teen miles of the spot where Boonesborough afterwards was built. Here, on the 22nd of March,, his small party was attacked by the Indians, and suffered a loss of four men killed and wounded. The Indians, although repuls- ed, with. lo§s in this affair, renewed the attack with equal, DANIEL BOONE. 47 fury on the next day, and killed and wounded five more of his party. On the 1st of April, the survivors began to build a small fort on the Kentucky river, afterwards call- ed Boonesborough,andon the 4th, they were again attacked by the Indians, and lost another man. Notwithstanding the harassing attacks to which they were constantly ex- posed, (for the Indians seemed enraged to madness at the prospect of their building houses on their hunting ground,) the work was prosecuted with indefatigable diligence, and on the 14th was completed. Boone instantly returned to Clinch river for his family, determined to bring them with him at every risk. This was done as soon as the journey could be performed, and Mrs. Boone and her daughters were the first white women who stood upon the banks of the Kentucky river, as Boone himself had been the first white man who ever built a cabin upon the borders of the state. The first house, however, which ever stood in the interior of Kentucky, was erected at Harrodsburgh, in the year 1774, by James Ilarrod, w ho conducted to this place a party of hunters from the banks of the Monongahela. This place was, there* fore, a few’ months older than Boonesborough. Both soon became distinguished, as the only places in which hunters and surveyors could find security from the fury of the In- dians. Within a few weeks after the arrival of Mrs. Boone and her daughters, the infant colony was reinforced by three more families,, at the head of which w ere Mrs. McCary, Mrs. Hogan, and Mrs. Denton. Boonesborough,. however, w as the central object of Indian hostilities, and scarcely had his family become domesticated in their new posses- sion, when they were suddenly attacked by a party of Indians, and lost one of their garrison. This w*as on the. 24th of December, 1775; In the following July, however, a much more alarming incident occurred. One of his daughters, in company with a Miss Calloway, were amusing themselves in the immediate neighborhood of the fort, w r hen a party of In- dians, suddenly rushed out of a canebrake, and, intercept- ing theh* return,. took them prisoners. The screams oa, is WESTERN ADVENTURE. the terrified girls quickly alarmed the family. The small garrison was dispersed in their usual occupations; but Boone hastily collected a small party of eight men, and pursued the enemy. So much time, however, had been lost, that the Indians had got several miles the start of them. The pursuit was urged through the night with jreat keenness, by woodsmen capable of following a trail at all times, and on the following day they came up with them. The attack was so sudden and furious, that the Indians were driven from their ground before they had leisure to tomahawk their prisoners, and the girls were recovered without having sustained any other injury, than excessive fright and fatigue. Nothing but a barren outline of this interesting occurrence has been given. We know noth- ing of the conduct of the Indians to their captives, or of the situation of the young ladies during the short engage- ment, and cannot venture to fill up the outline from imagination. The Indians lost two men, while Boone’s party was uninjured. From this time until the 15th of April, 1777, the garri- son was incessantly harassed by flying parties of Indians. While ploughing their corn, they were waylaid and shot* while hunting they were chased and fired upon; and some- times a solitary Indian would creep up near the fort, in the night, and fire upon the first of the garrison who ap- peared in the morning. They were in a constant state of anxiety and alarm, and the most ordinary duties could only be performed at the risk of their lives. On the 15th of April, the enemy appeared in large numbers, hoping to crush the infant settlement at a sin- gle blow. Boonesborough, Logan’s Fort, and Harrods* burgh, were attacked at one and the same time. But, destitute as they were of artillery, scaling ladders, and all the proper means of reducing fortified places, they could only distress the men, alarm the women, and destroy the corn and cattle. Boonesborough sustained some loss, as did the other stations, but the enemy being more ex- posed, suffered so severely as to retire with precipitation. No rest, however, was given to the unhappy garrison. DANIEL BOONE. 49 On the 4th of July following-, they were again attacked by two hundred warriors, and again repulsed the enemy with loss. The Indians retreated; but a few days after- wards, fell upon Logan’s station with great fury, having d 56 WESTERN ADVENTURE. the approach of darkness, then enabled him to effect hii escape. During the following year, Boonesborough enjoyed uninterrupted tranquillity. The country had become comparatively thickly settled, and was studded with for- tresses in every direction. Fresh emigrants with their families were - constantly arriving; and many young un- married women, (who had heretofore been extremely scarce,) had ventured to risk themselves in Kentucky They could not have selected a spot, where their meri was more properly appreciated, and were disposed of very rapidly to the young hunters, most of whom had hitherto, from necessity, remained bachelors. Thriving settle- ments had been pushed beyond the Kentucky river, and a number of houses had been built where Lexington now stands. The year 1781 passed away in perfect tranquillity, and judging from appearances, nothing was more distant, than the terrible struggle which awaited them. But during the whole of this year, the Indians were meditating a des- perate effort, to crush the settlements at a single blow. They had become seriously alarmed at the tide of emigration which rolled over the country, and threatened to convert their favorite hunting ground into one vast cluster of vil- lages. The game had already been much dispersed, the settlers originally weak and scattered over the south side of the Kentucky river, had now become numerous, and were rapidly extending to the Ohio. One vigorous and united effort might still crush their enemies, and regain for themselves the undisputed possession of the western forests. A few renegado white men, were mingled with them, and inflamed their w'ild passions, by dwelling upon the in- juries which they had ever sustained at the hands of the whites, and of the necessity for instant and vigorous ex- ertion, or of an eternal surrender of every hope either of redress or vengeance. Among these, the most remarkable was Simon Girty . Runners were despatched to most of the north-western tribes, and all were exhorted to lay aside private jealousy, and unite in a common cau*« DANIEL BOONE. 37 •gainst these white intruders. In the mean time, the settlers were busily employed in opening farms, marrying and giving in marriage, totally ignorant of the storm which was gathering upon the Lakes. In the spring of 1782, after a long interval of repose, they were harassed by small parties, who preceded the main body, as the pattering and irregular drops of rain, are the precursors of the approaching storm. In the month of May, a party of twenty-five Wyandotts secretly approached Estill’s station, and committed shocking outra- ges in its vicinity. Entering a cabin which stood apart from the rest, they seized a woman and her two daughters, who having been violated with circumstances of savage barbarity, were tomahawked and scalped. Their bodies, yet warm and bleeding, were found upon the floor of tire cabin. The neighborhood was instantly alarmed. Cap- tain Estill speedily collected a body of twenty-five men, and pursued their trail with great rapidity. He came up with them on Hinkston fork of Licking, immediately after they had crossed it, and a most severe and desperate con- flict ensued. The Indians, at first appeared daunted and began to fly, but their chief, who was badly wounded by the first fire, was heard in a loud voice, ordering them to stand and re- turn the fire, which was instantly obeyed. The creek ran between the two parties, and prevented a charge on either side, without the certainty of great loss. The par- ties, therefore, consisting of precisely the same number, formed an irregular line, within fifty yards of each other, and sheltering themselves behind trees or logs, they fired with deliberation, as an object presented itself. The on- ly manceuver, which the nature of the ground permitted, was to extend their lines in such a manner as to uncover the flank of the enemy, and even this was extremely dan- gerous, as every motion exposed them to a close and dead- ly fire. The action, therefore, was chiefly stationary, neither party advancing or retreating, and every individual act- ing for himself. It had already lasted more than an hour, without advantage on either side, or any prospect of its WESTERN ADVENTURE. 58 termination. Captain Estill had lost one third of his men, and had inflicted about an equal loss upon his enemiea, who still boldly maintained their ground, and returned his fire with equal spirit. To have persevered in the Indian mode of fighting, would have exposed his party to certain death,, one by one, unless all the Indians should be killed first, who, however, had at least an equal chance with him- self. Even victory, bought at such a price, w'ould have afforded but a melancholy triumph; yet it was impossible to retreat or advance without exposing his men to the greatest danger. After coolly revolving these reflections in his mind, and observing that the enemy exhibited no symptoms of dis- couragement, Captain Estill determined to detach a party of six men, under Lieutenant Miller, with orders to cross the creek above, and take the Indians in flank, while he maintained his ground, ready to co-operate, as circumstan- ces might require. But he had to deal with an enemy equally bold and sagacious. The Indian chief was quick- ly aware of the division of the force opposed to him, from the slackening of the fire in front, and readily conjectur- ing his object, he determined to frustrate it by crossing the creek with his whole force, and overwhelming Estill now weakened by the absence of Miller. The manceuver was bold and masterly, and was execu- ted with determined courage. Throwing themselves into the water, they fell upon Estill with the tomahawk, and drove him before them with slaughter. Miller’s party re- treated with precipitation, and even lie under the reproach of deserting their friends, and absconding, instead of oc^ cupving the designated ground. Others contradict this statement, and affirm that Miller punctually executed his orders, crossed the creek, and falling in with the enemy, was compelled to retire with loss. We think it probable, that the Indians rushed upon Estill, as above mentioned, and having defeated him, recrossed the creek and attacked Miller, thus cutting up their enemy in detail. Estili’s party finding themselves furiously charged, ami receiving no assistance from Miller, who was probably at t&el time on the other side of the creek, in. the execution- A.NIEL BOO.NE. 59 o£ his orders, would naturally consider themselves deserted, and when a clamor of thai kind is once raised against a man, (particularly in a defeat,) the voice of reason can no longer be heard. Some scape-goat is always necessary. The broken remains of the detachment returned to the station, and filled the country with consternation and alarm, greatly disproportioned to the extent of the loss. The brave Estill, with eight of his men, had fallen, and four more were wounded, more than half of their original Qumber. This, notwithstanding the smallness of the numbers, ie a very remarkable action, and, perhaps, more honorable to the Indians than any other one on record. The numbers, the arms, the courage, and the position of the parties, were equal. Both were composed of good marksmen, and skil- ful woodsmen. There was no surprise, no panic, nor any particular accident, according to the most probable account, which decided the action. A delicate manceuver, on the part of Estill gave- an advantage, which was promptly seiz- ed by the Indian chief, and a bold and masterly movement decided the fate of the day. The great battles of Auster- litz and Wagram exhibit the same error on the part of one commander, and the same decisive and successful step on the part of the other. The Arch Duke Charles extended his line to take the French in flank, and thereby weakened his center, which was instantly broken by a rapid charge of the whole French army. No movement seems more delicate and dangerous than that of Estill, and the first great check which Bonaparte received,, (that of Eylau,) was chiefly occasioned by weakening his front in order to assail the enemy in rear. It requires, however, great boldness and promptitude in the opposite leader, to take advantage of it. A cautious and wary leader, will be apt to let the golden opportunity pass away, until the detachment has reached his flank, and it is then too late. The English military critics censure our Washington for hesitation of this kind at Brandywine. They say, that when the de- tachment of Cornwallis was absent on its marcn to take tijQ Americans in flank' Washington should haye crossed; 60 WESTERN ADVENTURE. with his whole force, and have fallen upon Kniphauson* Lee says, that such a manoeuver was contemplated, bul was prevented by false intelligence. The news of Estill’s disaster was quickly succeeded by another scarcely less startling to the alarmed settlers Captain Holder, at the head of seventeen men, pursued a party of Indians who had taken two boys from the neigh- borhood of Hoy’s station. He overtook them after a rapid pursuit, and in the severe action which ensued, was re- pulsed with the loss of more than half his party. The tide of success seemed completely turned in favor of the Indians. They traversed the woods in every direction, sometimes singly, sometimes in small parties, and kept the settlers in constant alarm. At length, early in August, the grand effort was made. The allied Indian army, composed of detachments from nearly all the north-western tribes, and amounting to near- ly six hundred men, commenced their march from Chilli- cothe, under the command of their respective chiefs, aided and influenced by Girty, McKee, and other renegado white men. With a secrecy and celerity peculiar to themselves, they advanced through the woods without giving the slight- est indications of their approach; and on the night of the 14th of August, they appeared before Bryant’s station, a b suddenly as if they had risen from the earth, and sur- rounding it on all sides, calmly awaited the approach of daylight, holding themselves in readiness to rush in upon the inhabitants the moment that the gates were opened in the morning. The supreme influence of fortune in war, was never more strikingly displayed. The garrison had determined to march at daylight on the following morning, to the assistance of Hoy’s station, from which a messenger had arrived the evening before, with the intelligence of Holder’s defeat. Had the Indians arrived only a few hours later, they would have found the fort occupied only by old men, women and children, who could not have resisted their attack for a moment. As it was, they found the garrison assembled and under arms, most of them busily engaged throughout the whole nighrt, in preparing for an early march on the following morning DANIEL BOONE* 61 The Indians could distinctly hear the bustle of preparation, and see lights glancing from block houses and cabins during the night, which must have led them to suspect that their approach had been discovered. All continued tranquil dur- ing the night, and Girty silently concerted the plan of attack. The fort, consisting of about forty cabins placed in par- allel lines, stands upon a gentle rise on the southern bank of the Elkhorn, a few paces to the right of the road from Maysville to Lexington. The garrison was supplied with water from a spring at some distance from the fort on its north-western side ; a great error, common to most of the stations, which, in a close and long continued siege, must have suffered dreadfully for want of water. The great body of Indians placed themselves in ambush within half rifle shot of the spring, while one hundred se- lect men were placed near the spot where the road now runs after passing the creek, with orders to open a brisk fire and show themselves to the garrison on that side, fbr the purpose of drawing them out, while the main body held themselves in readiness to rush upon the opposite gate of the fort, hew it down with their tomahawks, and force their way into the midst of the cabins. At dawn of day, the garrison paraded under arms, and were preparing to open their gates and march off as already mentioned, when they were alarmed by a furious discharge of rifles, accompanied with yells and screams, which struck terror to the hearts of the women and children, and startled even the men. All ran hastily to the picketing, and beheld a small par- ty of Indians, exposed to open view, firing, yelling, and making the most furious gestures. The appearance was so singular, and so different from their usual manner of fighting, that some of the more wary and experienced of the garrison instantly pronounced it a decoy party, and restrained the young men from sallying out and attacking them, as some of them were strongly disposed to do. The opposite side of the fort was instantly manned, and seve- ral breaches in the picketing rapidly repaired. Their greatest distress arose from the prospect of suffering for 62 WESTERN ADVENTURE. water. The more experienced of the garrison felt satis- fied that a powerful party was in ambuscade near tho spring, but at the same time they supposed that the In- dians would not unmask themselves, until the firing upon the opposite side of the fort was returned with such warmth, as to induce the belief that the feint had succeeded. Acting upon this impression, and yielding to the urgent necessity of the case, they summoned all the women, with- out exception, and explaining to them the circumstances in which they were placed, and the improbability that any injury would be offered them, until the firing had been re- turned from the opposite side of the fort,, they urged them to go in a body to the spring, and each to bring up a buck- et full of water. Some of the ladies, as was natural, had no relish for the undertaking, and asked why the men could not bring water as well as themselves? observing that they were not bullet-proof, and that the Indians made no distinction between male and female scalps ! To this it was answered, that women were in the habit of bringing water every morning to the fort, and that if the Indians saw them engaged as usual, it would induce them to believe that their ambuscade was undiscovered* and that they would not unmask themselves for the sake of firing at a few women, when they hoped, by remaining concealed a few moments longer, to obtain complete pos- session of the fort. That if men should go down to the spring, the Indians would immediately suspect that some thing was wrong, would despair of succeeding by ambus cade, and would instantly rush upon them, follow them into the fort,, or shoot them down at the spring. The decision was soon over* A few of the boldest declared their readiness to brave the danger, and the younger and more timid rallying in the rear of these veterans, they all marched down in a body to the spring, within point blank shot of more than five hundred Indian warriors t Some of the girls could not help betraying symptoms of terror, but the married women,, in general, moved with a steadiness and composure, which completely deceived the Indians. Not a shot was fired. The party were permitted to fill their buckets, one aftea DANIEL BOONE. 03 another, without interruption, and although their steps be* came quicker and quicker, on their return, and when near the gate of the fort, degenerated into a rather unmilitary ce- lerity,- attended with some little crowding in passing the gate, yet not more than one-fifth of the water was spilled, and the eyes of the youngest had not dilated to more than double their ordinary size. Beifig now amply supplied with water, they sent out thirteen young men to attack the decoy party, with orders to fire with great rapidity, and make as much noise as pos- sible, but not to pursue the enemy too far, while the rest of the garrison took post on the opposite side of the fort, cocked their guns, and stood in readiness to receive th® ambuscade as soon as it was unmasked. The firing of the light parties on the Lexington road was soon heard, and quickly became sharp and serious, gradually becoming more distant from the fort. Instantly, Girty sprung up at the head of his five hundred warriors, and rushed rapidly upon the western gate, ready to force his way over the un- defended palisades. Into this immense mass of dusky bodies, the garrison poured several rapid volleys of rifle bails with destructive effect. Their consternation may he imagined. With wild cries they dispersed on the right and left, and in two minutes not an Indian was to be seen. At the same time, the party who had sallied out on the Lexington road, came running into the fort at the opposite gate, in high spirits,, and laughing heartily at the success of their manoeuvre. A regular attack,, in the usual manner, then commenced, without much effect on either side,, until two o’clock in the afternoon, when a new scene presented itself. Upon the first appearance of the Indians in the morning, two of the garrison, Tomlinson and Bell. ? had been mounted upon fleet horses, and sent at full speed to Lexington, announcing the arrival of the Indians and demanding reinforcements. Up*- on their arrival, a little after sunrise, they found the town occupied only by women and children, and a few old men, the rest having marched at the intelligence of Holder’? defeat, to the general rendezvous at Hoy’s station. The two couriers instantly followed at a gallop,, and overtaking *4 WESTER!* ADVElfTURE. them on the road, informed them of the danger to which Lexington was exposed during their absence. The whole party, amounting to sixteen horsemen and more than double that number on foot, with some additional volunteers from Boone’s station, instantly countermarched, and repaired with all possible expedition to Bryant’s sta- tion. They were entirely ignorant of the overwhelming numbers opposed to them, or they would have proceeded with more caution. Tomlinson had only informed them tfiat the station was surrounded, being himself ignorant of the numbers of the enemy. By great exertions, horse and foot appeared before Bryant’s at two in the afternoon* and pressed forward with precipitate gallantry to throw themselves into the fort. The Indians, however, had been aware of the departure of the two couriers, who had, in fact, broken through their line in order to give the alarm* and expecting the arrival of reinforcements, had taken measures to meet them. To the left of the long and narrow lane, where the Maya- ▼ille and Lexington road now runs, there were more than one hundred acres of green standing corn. The usual road from Lexington to Bryant’s, ran parallel to the fence of this field, and only a few feet distant from it. On tho opposite side of the road was a thick wood. Here, more than three hundred Indians lay in ambush, within pistol shot of the road, awaiting the approach of the party. The horsemen came in view at a time when the firing had ceased and every thing was quiet. Seeing no enemy, and hearing no noise, they entered the lane at a gallop, and were instantly saluted with a shower of rifle balls, from each side, at the distance of ten paces. At the first shot, the wLole party set spurs to their horses, and rode at full speed through a rolling fire from either side, which continued for several hundred yards, bui owing partly to the furious rate at which they rode, partly to the clouds of dust raised by the horses’ feet, they all entered the fort unhurt. The men on foot were less for* tunate. They were advancing through the corn-field, and might have reached the fort in safety, but for their eager- ness to succor their friends. Without reflecting, that fkm DANIEL BOONE, 65 the weight and extent of the fire, the enemy must have been ten times their number, they ran up with inconsiderate courage, to the spot where the firing was heard, and there found themselves cut off from ihe fort, and within pistol shot of more than three hundred savages. Fortunately the Indian guns had just been discharged, and they had not yet had leisure to re-load. At the sight of this brave body of footmen, however, they raised a hideous yell, and rushed upon them, tomahawk in hand. Nothing but the high corn and their loaded rifles, could have saved them from destruction. The Indians were cau- tious in rushing upon a loaded rifle, with only a tomahawk, and when they halted to load their pieces, the Kentucki- ans ran with great rapidity, turning and dodging through the corn in every direction. Some entered the w r ood and escaped through the thickets of cane, some were shot down in the corn-field, others maintained a running fight, halting occasionally behind trees and keeping the enemy at bay with their rifles; for, of all men, the Indians are generally the most cautious in exposing themselves to danger. A stout, active young fellow, was so hard pressed by Girty and several savages, that he was compelled to discharge his rifle, (however unwilling, having no time to re-load it,) and Girty fell. It happened, however, that a piece of thick sole-leather was in his shot-pouch at the time, which reqeived the ball, and preserved his life, although the force of the blow felled him to the ground. The savages halted upon his fall, and the young man escaped. Although the skirmish and the race lasted for more than an hour, during which the corn- field presented a scene of turmoil and bustle which can scarcely be conceived, yet very few lives were lost. Only •ix of the white men were killed and wounded, and proba- bly still fewer of the enemy, as the whites never fired un- til absolutely necessary, but reserved their loads as a check upon the enemy. Had the Indians pursued them to Lex- ington, they might have possessed themselves of it without resistance, as there was no force there to oppose them; but after following the fugitives for a few hundred yards, they returned to the hopeless siege of the fort. WESTERN ADVENTURE. It was now near sunset, and the fire on both sides had slackened. The Indians had become discouraged. Their loss in the morning had been heavy, and the country was evidently arming, and would soon be upon them. They had made no impression upon the fort, and without artil- lery could hope to make none. The chiefs spoke of rais- ing the siege and decamping; but Girty determined, since kis arms ha.d been unavailing, to try the efficacy of negotia- tion. Near one of the bastions there was a large stump, to which he crept on his hands and knees, and from which he hailed the garrison. He highly commended their courage, but assured them, that further resistance would be madness, as he had six hundred warriors with him, and was in hourly expectation of reinforcements, with artillery, which would instantly blow their cabins into the air; that if the fort was taken by storm, as it certainly would be, when their cannon ar- rived, it would be impossible for him to save their lives; but if they surrendered at once, he gave them his honor, that not a hair of their head should be injured. He told them his name, inquired whether they knew him, and as- sured them, that they might safely trust to his honor. The garrison listened in silence to his speech, and many ef them looked very blank at the mention of the artillery, as the Indians had, on one occasion, brought cannon with them, and destroyed two stations. But a young man by the name of* Reynolds, highly distinguished for courage, energy, and a frolicsome gaiety of temper, perceiving the effect of Girty ’s speech, took uporliiimself to reply to it To Girty’s inquiry, “whether the garrison knew him-?” Reynolds replied, “That he was very well known; that he himself had a worthless dog, to which he had given the name of 6 Simon Girty,’ in consequence of his striking re- semblance to the man of that name ; that if he had either artillery or reinforcements, he might bring them up and be d — d ; that if either himself, or any of the naked rascals with him, found their way into the fort, they would disdain to use their guns against them, but would drive them out again with switches, of which they had collected a great number for that purpose alone; and finally, he declared* DANIEL BOONE, 67 that they also expected reinforcements; that the whole country was marching to their assistance ; and that if Girty and his gang of murderers remained twenty-four hour* longer before the fort, their scalps would be found drying in the sun upon the roofs of their cabins.” Girty took great offence at the tone and language of the young Kentuckian, and retired with an expression of sor- row for the inevitable destruction which awaited them on the following morning. He quickly rejoined the chiefs; and instant preparations were made for raising the siege. The night passed away in uninterrupted tranquillity, and at daylight in the morning, the Indian camp was found deserted. Fires were still burning brightly, and several pieces of meat were left upon their roasting sticks, from which it was inferred that they had retreated a short time before daylight. Early in the day, reinforcements began to drop in, and by noon, one hundred and sixty-seven men were assem- bled at Bryant’s station. Colonel Daniel Boone, accom- panied by his youngest son, headed a strong party from Boonesborough ; Trigg brought up the force from the neighborhood of Harrodsburgh, and Todd commanded the rnilitia around Lexington. Nearly a third of the whole number assembled, was composed of commissioned offi- cers, who hurried from a distance to the scene of hostilities, and for the time took their station in the ranks. Of those under the rank of colonel, the most conspicuous were, Majors Harland, McBride, McGary, and Levy Todd, and Captains Bulger and Gordon. Of the six last named offi- cers, all fell in the subsequent battle, except Todd and McGary. Todd and Trigg, as senior colonels, took the command, although their authority seems to have been in a great measure nominal. That, however, was of less consequence, as a sense of common danger is often more Dinding than the strictest discipline. A tumultuous consultation, in which every one seems to have had a voice, terminated in an unanimous resolu- tion to pursue the enemy without delay. It was well known that General Logan had collected a strong force in Lincoln, and would join them at farthest in twenty-four 66 WESTERN ADVENTURE. hours. It was distinctly understood that the enemy was at least double, and, according to Girty’s account, more than treble their own numbers. It was seen that their trail was broad and obvious, and that even some indications of a tardiness and willingness to be pursued, had been ob- served by their scouts, who had been sent out to recon- noiter, and from which it might reasonably be inferred that they would halt on the way, at least march so leisurely, as to permit them to wait for the aid of Logan! Yet so keen was the ardor of officer and soldier, that all these ob- vious reasons were overlooked, and in the afternoon of the 18th of August, the line of march was taken up, and the pursuit urged with that precipitate courage which has so of ten been fatal to Kentuckians. Most of the officers and many of the privates were mounted. The Indians had followed the buffalo trace, and as if to render their trail still more evident, they had chopped ma- ny of the trees on each side of the road with their hatch- ets. These strong indications of tardiness, made some impression upon the cool and calculating mind of Boone but it was too late to advise retreat. They encamped that night in the woods, and on the following day reached the fatal boundary of their pursuit! At the Lower Blue Licks, for the first time since the pursuit commenced, they came within view of an enemy. As the miscellaneous crowd of horse and foot reached the southern bank of Lick- ing, they saw a number of Indians ascending the rocky ridge on the other side. They halted upon the appearance of the Kentuckian*, gazed at them for a few moments in silence, and then calm- ly and leisurely disappeared over the top of the hill. A halt immediately ensued. A dozen or twenty officers met in front of the ranks, and entered into consultation. The wild and lonely aspect of the country around them, their distance from any point of support, with the certainty of their being in the presence of a superior enemy, seems to have inspired a portion of seriousness, bordering upon awe. All eyes were now turned upon Boone, and Colonel Todd asked his opinion as to what should be done. The veteran woodsman, with hi* usual unmoved gravity, replied: DANIEL BOONE. 09 That their situation was critical and delicate ; that the force opposed to them was undoubtedly numerous and ready for battle, as might readily be seen from the leisurely re- treat of the few Indians who had appeared upon the crest ! of the hill; that he w r as well acquainted with the ground in the neighborhood of the Lick, and was apprehensive that an ambuscade was formed at the distance of a mile in advance, where two ravines, one upon each side of the ridge, ran in such a manner, that a concealed enemy might assail them at once both in front and flank, before they were apprised of the danger. “ It would be proper, therefore, to do one of two things. Either to await the arrival of Logan, who was now un- doubtedly on his march to join them, or if it was determin- ed to attack without delay, that one half of their number should march up the river, which there bends in an ellip- tical form, cross at the rapids and fall upon the rear of the enemy, while the other division attacked in front. At any rate, he strongly urged the necessity of reconnoiter- ing the ground carefully before the main body crossed the river.” Such was the counsel of Boone. And although no measure could have been much more disastrous than that which was adopted, yet it may be doubted if any thing short of an immediate retreat upon Logan, could have saved this gallant body of men from the fate which they encoun- tered. If they divided their force, the enemy, as in Es- till’s case, might have overwhelmed them in detail ; if they remained where they were, without advancing, the enemy would certainly have attacked them, probably in the night, and with a certainty of success. They had committed a great error at first, in not waiting for Logan, and nothing short of a retreat, which would have been considered dis- graceful, could now repair it. Boone was heard in silence and with deep attention. Some wished to adopt the first plan; others preferred "the second; and the discussion threatened to be drawn out to •ome length, when the boiling ardor of McGary, who could never endure the presence of an enemy without instant battle, stimulated him to an act, which had nearly proved WESTERN ADVENTURE. n destructive to his country. He suddenly interrupted the consultation with a loud whoop, resembling the war-cry of the Indians, spurred his horse into the stream, waved his hat over his head, and shouted aloud : u Let all who are not cowards follow me ! ” The words and the action to- gether, produced an electrical effect. The mounted men dashed tumultuously into the river, each striving to be foremost. The footmen w r ere mingled with them in one rolling and irregular mass. No order was given, and none observed. They strug- gled through a deep ford as well as they could, McGary still leading the van, closely followed by Majors Harland and McBride. With the same rapidity they ascended the ridge, which, by the trampling of buffalo foragers, had been stripped bare of all vegetation, with the exception of a few dwarfish cedars, and which was rendered still more deso- late in appearance, by the multitude of rocks, blackened by the sun, which were spread over its surface. Upon reaching the top of the ridge, they followed the buffalo trace with the same precipitate ardor; Todd and Trigg in the rear; McGary, Harland, McBride, and Bocne in front No scouts were sent in advance; none explored either flank; officers and soldiers seemed alike demented by the contagious example of a single man, and all struggled for- ward, horse and foot, as if to outstrip each other in the advance. Suddenly, the van halted. They had reached the spot mentioned by Boone, where the two ravines head, on each side of the ridge. Here a body of Indians presented them- selves, and attacked the van. McGary’s party instantly returned the fire, but under great disadvantage. They were upon a bare and open ridge; the Indians in a bushy ravine. The center and rear, ignorant of the ground, hur- ried up to the assistance of the van, but were soon stop- ped by a terrible fire from the ravine which flanked them. They found themselved enclosed as if in the wings of a net, destitute of proper shelter, while the enemy were in a great measure covered from their fire. Still, however, they maintained their ground. The action became warm and bloody. The parties gradually closed, the Indians DANIEL BOONE. 71 emerged from the ravine, and the fire became mutually destructive. The officers suffered dreadfully. Todd and Trigg, in the rear; Harland, McBride, and young Boone* in front, were already killed. The Indians gradually extended their line, to turn the right of the Kentuckians, and cut off their retreat. This was quickly perceived by the weight of the tire from that quarter, and the rear instantly fell back in disorder, and attempted to rush through their only opening to the river. The motion quickly communicated itself to the van, and a hurried retreat became general. The Indians instantly sprung forward in pursuit, and falling upon them with their tomahawks, made a cruel slaughter. From the battle ground to the river, the spectacle was terrible. The horsemen generally escaped, but the foot, particularly the van, which had advanced farthest within the wings of the net, wore almost totally destroyed. Colonel Boone, after witnessing the death of his son and many of his dearest friends, found himself almost entirely surrounded at tha very commencement of the retreat. Several hundred Indians were between him and the ford, to w hich the great mass of the fugitives were bending their flight, and to which the attention of the savages was prim- cipally directed. Being intimately acquainted with th® ground, he, together with a few friends, dashed into th® ravine wffiich the Indians had occupied, but which most of them had now left to join in the pursuit. After sustain- ing one or tw^o heavy fires, and baffling one or tw 7 o small parties, who pursued him for a short distance, he crossed the river below the ford, by swimming, and entering the wood at a point where there w 7 as no pursuit, returned by a circuitous route to Bryant’s station. In the mean time, the great mass of the victors and vanquished crowded the tank of the ford. The slaughter was great in the river. The ford was crowded with horsemen and foot and Indians, all mingled together. Some were compelled to seek a passage above by swimming; some, who could not swim, were overtaken and killed at the edge of the water. A man by the nam® Netherland, who had formerly been strongly suspected 72 WESTERN ADVENTURE. of cowardice, here displayed a coolness and presence of mind, equally noble and unexpected. Being finely moun * ad he had outstripped the great mass of fugitives, and crossed the river in safety. A dozen or twenty horsemen accompanied him, and having placed the river between them and the enemy, showed a disposition to continue their flight, without regard to the safety of their friend* who were on foot, end still struggling with the current. Netherland instantly checked his horse- and in a loud voice, called upon his companions to halt, fire upon the In- dians, and save those who were still in the stream. The party instantly obeyed; and facing about, poured a close and fatal discharge of rifles upon the foremost of the pur- suers. The enemy instantly fell back from the opposite bank, and gave time for the harassed and miserable foot- men to cross in safety. The check, however, was but momentary. Indians were seen crossing in great numbers above and below T , and the flight again became general. Most of the foot left the great buffalo track, and plunging into the thickets, escaped by a circuitous route to Bryant’s station. But little loss was sustained after crossing the river, al- though the pursuit was urged keenly for twenty miles. From the battle ground to the ford, the loss was very hefovy; and at that stage of the retreat, there occurred a rare and striking instance of magnanimity, which it would be criminal to omit. The reader could not have forgotten young Reynolds, who replied with such rough but ready humor to the pompous summons of Girty, at the siege of Bryant’s. This young man, after bearing his share in the action with distinguished gallantry, was galloping with *everal other horsemen in order to reach the ford. Tha great body of fugitives had preceded them, and their situ- ation was in the highest degree critical and dangerous. About half way between the battle-ground and the river, the party overtook Captain Patterson, on foot, exhausted by the rapidity of the flight, and in consequence of formei wounds received from the Indians, so infirm as to be una- ble to keep up with the main body of the men on foot. Tha Indian* were close behind him, and his fate seemed DANIEL BOONE. 73 inevitable. Reynolds, upon coming up with this brave of- ficer, instantly sprung from his horse, aided Patterson tx> mount into the saddle, and continued his own llight on foot. Being remarkably active and vigorous, he contrived to elude his pursuers, and turning off from the main road, plunged into the river near the spot where Boone had crossed, and swam in safety to the opposite side. Unfor- tunately, he w T ore a pair of buckskin breeches, which had become so heavy and full of water as to prevent his ex erting himself with his usual activity, and while sitting down for the purpose of pulling them off, he was overta- ken by a party of Indians, and made prisoner. A prisoner is rarely put to death by the Indians, unleg» wounded or infirm, until they return to their own country; and then his fate is decided in solemn council. Young Reynolds, therefore, was treated kindly, and compelled to accompany his captors in the pursuit. A small party of Kentuckians, soon attracted their attention; and he wai left in charge of three Indians, who, eager in pursuit, in turn committed him to the charge of one of their number, while they followed their companions. Reynolds and hi# guard jogged atang very leisurely; the former totally un- armed ; the latter, with a tomahawk and rifle in his handa. At length the Indian stopped to tie his moccasin, when Reynolds instantly sprung upon him, knocked him down with his fist, and quickly disappeared in the thicket which surrounded them. For this act of generosity, Captain Patterson afterwards made him a present of two hundred acres of first rate land. Late in the evening of the same day, most of the survi- vors arrived at Bryant’s station. The melancholy intelli- gence spread rapidly throughout the country, and the whole land was covered with mourning. Sixty men had been killed in the battle and flight, and seven had been taken prisoners, part of whom were afterwards puf to death by the Indians, as w T as said, to make their loss even. This account, however, appears very improbable. It is almost incredible that the Indians should have suffered an equal loss. Their superiority of numbers, their advantage of position, (being in a great measure sheltered, while thd WESTERN ADVENTURE. 71 Kentuckians, particularly the horsemen, were much expos- ed,) the extreme brevity of the battle, and the acknowl- edged bloodiness of the pursuit, all tend to contradict the report that the Indian loss exceeded ours. We have no doubt that some of the prisoners were mur- dered after arriving at their towns, but cannot believe that the reason assigned for so ordinary a piece of barbarity was the true one. Still, the execution done by the Ken- tuckians, while the battle lasted, seems to have been con- siderable, although far inferior to the loss which they themselves sustained. Todd and Trigg were a severe loss to their families, and to the country generally. They were men of a rank in life superior to the ordinary class of settlers, and generally esteemed for courage, probity, and intelligence. The death of Major Harland was deep- ly and universally regretted. A keen courage, united to a temper the most amiable, and an integrity the most in- corruptible, had rendered him extremely popular in the country. Together with his friend, McBride, he accompanies McGary in the van, and both fell in the commencement ot the action. McGary, notwithstanding the extreme expo- sure of his station, as leader of the van, and consequently most deeply involved in the ranks of the enemy, escaped without the slightest injury. This gentleman will ever be remembered, as associated with the disaster of which he was the immediate, although not the original cause. He has always been represented as a man of fiery and dar- ing courage, strongly tinctured with ferocity, and unsoft- ened by any of the humane and gentle qualities which awaken affection. In the hour of battle, his presence w as invaluable ; but in civil life, the ferocity of his temper ren- dered him an unpleasant companion. Several yea^ after the battle of the Blue Licks, a gen- tleman of Kentucky, since dead, fell in company with McGary at one of the circuit courts, and the conversation soon turned upon the battle. McGary frankly acknowl- edged that he, himself, was the immediate cause of the loss of blood on that day, and v ith great heat and energy, assigned his reasons for urging, on the battle* He said,, DANIEL BOONE. 75 that in the hurried council which was held at Biyant’s on the 18th, he had strenuously urged Todd and Trigg to halt for twenty-four hours, assuring them, that with the aid of Logan, they would be able to follow them even to Chilli- cothe if necessary, and that their numbers then , were too weak to encounter them alone. He offered, he said, to pledge his head, that the Indians would not return with such precipitation as was supposed, but would afford am- ple time to collect more force, and give them battle with a prospect of success. He added, that Colonel Todd scouted his arguments, and declared u that if a single day was lost, the Indians would never be overtaken, but would cross the Ohio and disperse; that now was the time to strike them, while they were in a body; that to talk of their numbers was nonsense — the more the merrier; that for his part he was determined to pursue without a moment’s delay, and did not doubt that there were brave men enough on the ground, to enable him to attack them with effect.” McGary declared “ that he felt somewhat nettled at the manner in which his advice had been received. That he thought Todd and Trigg jealous of Logan, who, as senior colonel, would be entitled to the command upon his arrival; and that, in their eagerness to have the honor of the victory to themselves, they were rashly throwing themselves into a condition, which would endanger the safety of the country. “ However, sir,” continued he, w r ith an air of unamia- ble triumph, u when I saw the gentlemen so keen for a fight, I gave way, and joined in the pursuit, as willingly as any; but when we came in sight of the enemy, and the gentlemen began to talk of 6 numbers,’ 6 position,’ 4 Logan, 1 and 6 waiting,’ I burst into a passion, d — -d them for a set of cowards, wdio could not be wise until they were scared into it, and swore that since they had come so far for a fight, they should jiglit, or I would disgrace them forever! That when I spoke of waiting for Logan on the day be- fore, they had scouted the idea, and hinted something about 4 courage’ — that now it would be shown who had courage, or who were d — d cowards, that could talk big when the enemy was at a distance,, but turned pale when* 76 WESTERN ADVENTURE. danger was near. I then dashed into the river, and call- ed upon all who were not cowards to follow!” The gen- tleman upon whose authority this is given, added that, even then, McGary spoke with bitterness of the deceased colonels, and swore that they had received just what they deserved, and that he for one was glad of it. That the charge of McGary, in its full extent, was ui*» just, there can be.no doubt; at the same time, it is in ac- cordance with the known principles of human nature, to suppose that the natural ardor of the officers, both young men, should be stimulated by the hope of gaining a victory, the honor of which would be given them as commanders. The number of the Indians was not distinctly known, and if their retreat had been ordinarily precipitate, they would certainly have crossed the Ohio before Logan could have joined. But, leaving all the facts to speak for themselves, we will proceed with our narrative. On the very day in which this rash and unfortunate battle was fought, Colonel Logan arrived at Bryant’s sta- tion, at the head of no less than four hundred and fifty men. He here learned that the little army had marched on the preceding day, without waiting for so strong and necessary a reinforcement. Fearful of some such disas- ter as had actually occurred, he urged his march with the utmost diligence, still hoping to overtake them before they could cross the Ohio; but within a few miles of the fort, he encountered the foremost of the fugitives, whose jaded horses, and harassed looks, announced but too plainly the •vent of the battle. As usual with men after a defeat they magnified the number of the enemy and the slaughter of their comrades. None knew the actual extent of their loss. They could only bo certain of their own escape, and could give no account of their companions. Fresh stragglers constantly came up* with the same mournful intelligence; so that Logan, after some hesitation, determined to return to Bryant’s until all the survivers should come up. In the course of the evei> ing, both horse and foot were re-assembled at Bryant’s, and the loss was distinctly ascertained. Although sufficiently severe, it was less than Logan had at first apprehended* DANIEL BOONE 77 and having obtained all the information which could be col- lected, as to the strength and probable destination of the enemy, he determined to continue his march to the battle ground, with the hope that success would embolden the enemy, and induce them to remain until his arrival. On the second day he reached the field. The enemy were gone, but the bodies of the Kentuckians still lay un- buried, on the spot where they had fallen. Immense flocks of buzzards were soaring over the battle ground, and the bodies of the dead had become so much swollen and disfigured, that it was impossible to recognise the fea- tures of the most particular friends. Many corpses were floating near the shore of the northern bank, already pu- trid from the action of the sun, and partially eaten by fishes. The whole were carefully collected by order of Colonel Logan, and interred as decently as the na- ture of the soil would permit. Being satisfied that the Indians were by this time far beyond his reach, he then retraced his steps to Bryant’s station and dismissed his men. As soon as intelligence of the battle of the Blue Licks reached Colonel George Rogers Clark, who then re- j sided at the Falls of Ohio, he determined to set on foot an expedition against the Indian towns for the purpose both of avenging the loss of the battle, and rousing the spirit of the country, which had begun to sink into the deepest dejection. He proposed that one thousand men should be raised from all parts of Kentucky, and should rendezvous at Cincinnati, under the command of their re- spective officers, where he engaged to meet them at the head of a part of the Illinois regiment, then under his com- mand, together with one brass field-piece, which was regarded by the Indians with superstitious terror. The offer was embraced with great alacrity ; and instant meas- ures were taken for the collection of a sufficient number of volunteers. The whole force of the interior, was assembled under the command of Colonel Logan, and descending the Lick- ing in boats, prepared for the purpose, arrived safely at the designated point of union, where they were joined by 78 WESTERN ADVENTURE. Clark with the volunteers and regular detachment from below. No provision was made for the subsistence of the troops, and the sudden concentration of one thousand men and horses upon a single point, rendered it extremely dif- ficult to procure the necessary supplies. The woods abounded in game; but the rapidity and secrecy of their march, which was absolutely essential to the success of the expedition, did not allow them to disperse in search of it. They suffered greatly, therefore, from hunger as well as fatigue;; but all being accustomed to privations of every kind, they prosecuted their march with unabated rapidity, and appeared within a mile of one of their largest villages, without encountering a single Indian. Here, unfortunately, a straggler fell in with them, and instantly fled to the village, uttering the alarm whoop re- peatedly in the shrillest and most startling tones. The troops pressed forward with great despatch, and entering their town found it totally deserted. The houses had evi- dently been abandoned only a few minutes before their arrival. Fires were burning, meat was upon the roasting sticks, and corn was stili boiling in their kettles. The provisions were a most acceptable treat to the Kentucki- ans, who were well nigh famished, but the escape of their enemies excited deep and universal chagrin. After refreshing themselves, they engaged in the seri- ous business of destroying the property of the tribes with unrelenting severity. Their villages were burnt, their corn cut up, and their whole country laid waste. During the whole of this severe, but necessary occupation, scarcely an Indian was to be seen. The alarm had spread univer- sally, and every village was found deserted. Occasional ly, a solitary Indian would crawl up within gunshot, and deliver his fire; and once a small party mounted upon su perb horses, rode up with great audacity,’ within musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of the whole army, but upon seeing a detachment preparing to attack them, they galloped off with a rapidity which baffled pursuit. Boone accompanied this expedition, but as usual, haa omitted every thing which relates to himself. Here the brief memoir of Boone closes* it does not appear that DANIEL BOONE. 79 he was afterwards engaged in any public expedition or solitary adventure. He continued a highly respectable citizen of Kentucky for several years, until the country became too thickly settled for his taste. As refinement of manners advanced, and the general standard of intelli- gence became elevated by the constant arrival of families of rank and influence, the rough old woodsman found himself entirely out of his element. He could neither read nor write; the all-engaging subject of politics, which soon began to agitate the country with great violence, was to him as a sealed book or an unknown language; and for several years he wandered among the living group which thronged the court-yard or the churches, like a venerable relic of other days. He was among them, but not of them! He pined in secret, for the wild and lonely forests of the west; for the immense prairie trodden only by the buffalo, or the elk; and became eager to exchange the listless lan- guor and security of a village, for the healthful exercises of the chase, or the more thrilling excitement of savage warfare. In 1792, he dictated his brief and rather dry memoirs to some young .gentleman who could write, and who has garnished it with a few flourishes of rhetoric, which pass- ed off upon the old woodsman as a precious morsel of elo- quence. He was never more gratified, than when he could sit and hear it read to him, by some one, who was willing at so small an expense to gratify the harmless van- ity of the kind-hearted old pioneer. He would listen with great earnestness, and occasionally rub his hands, smile, and ejaculate, ^all true! every word true!- — not a lie in it!” He shortly afterwards left Kentucky, and removed to Louisiana. Hunting was his daily amusement, and al- most his only occupation. Until the day of his death, (and he lived to an unusually advanced age,), he was in the habit of remaining for days at a time in the forest, at a distance from the abodes of men, armed with a rifle, hatchet, knife, and having flints and steel to enable him to kindle a fire, and broil the wild game upon which he depended for subsistence. When too old to walk through the woods, as was bis custom whea 80 WESTERN ADVENTURE. young, he would ride to a lick, and there lay in ambush all day, for the sake of getting a shot at the herds of deer that were accustomed to visit the spot, for the sake of the salt. We have heard that he died in the woods, while lay- ing in ambush near a lick, but have not at present the means of ascertaining with certainty the manner of his death. He has left behind him a name strongly written in the annals of Kentucky, and a reputation for calm courage, softened by humanity, conducted by prudence, and embel- lished by a singular modesty of deportment. His person . was rough, robust, and indicating strength rather than ac- tivity; his manner wa$ cold, grave, and taciturn; his coun- tenance homely, but kind; his conversation unadorned, unobtrusive, and touching only upon the “needful.” He never spoke of himself, unless particularly questioned; but the written account of his life was the Delilah of his imagination. The idea of “ seeing his name in print,” completely overcame the cold philosophy of his general manner, and he seemed to think it a masterpiece of com position. CHAPTER IH Simon Kenton was born in Fauquier county, Virginia, on the 15th of May, 1755, the ever memorable year of Braddock’s defeat. Of his early years nothing is known. His parents were poor, and until the age of sixteen, hisr days seem to have passed away in the obscure and labo- rious drudgery of a farm. He was never taught to read or write, and to this early negligence or inability on the part of his parents, is the poverty and desolation of his old age, in a great measure, to be attributed. At the age of sixteen, by an unfortunate adventure, he was launched into life with no other fortune, than a stout heart and a robust set of limbs. It seems, that young as he was, his heart had become entangled in the snares of a young co- SIMON KENTON. 81 quette in the neighborhood, who was grievously perplexed by the necessity of choosing one husband out of many lovers. Young Kenton, and a robust farmer by the name of Leitchman, seem to have been the most favored suitors, and the young lady, not being able to decide upon their respective merits, they took the matter into their own hands, and, in consequence of foul play on the part of Leitchraan’s friends, young Kenton was beaten with great severity. He submitted to his fate, for the time, in silence, but internally vowed, that as soon as he had obtained his full growth, he would take ample vengeance upon his ri- val, for the disgrace which he had sustained at his hands. He waited patiently until the following spring, when find- ing himself six feet high, and full of health and action, he determined to delay the hour of retribution no longer. He accordingly walked over to Leitchman’s house one morning, and finding him busily engaged in carrying shin- gles from the woods to his own house, he stopped him, told him his object, and desired him to adjourn to a spot more convenient for the purpose. Leitchman, confident in his superior age and strength, was not backward in testifying his willingness to indulge him in so amiable a pastime, and having reached a solitary spot in the wood, they both strip- ped and prepared for the encounter. The battle was fought with all the fury, which mutual hate, jealousy, and hercu- lean power on both sides, could supply, and after a severe round, in which considerable damage was done and re- ceived, Kenton was brought to the ground. Leitchman (as usual in Virginia) sprung upon him with- out the least scruple, and added the most bitter taunts, to the kicks with which he saluted him, from his head to his heels, reminding him of his 'former defeat, and rubbing salt into the raw wounds of jealousy, by triumphant allu- sions to his own superiority both in love and war. Du- ring these active operations on the part of Leitchman, Kenton lay perfectly still, eying attentively a small bush which grew near them. It instantly occurred to him, that if he could wind Leitchman’s hair, (which was re- markably long,) round this bush, he would be able to re - f}' vC : \ j J3T' d , * / 82 T WESTERN ADVENTURE. turn those kicks which were now bestowed upon him such profusion. The difficulty was to get his antagonist near enough. This he at length effected in the good old Virginia style, viz : by biting him en arriere , and compelling him, by short springs, to approach the bush, much as a bullock is goaded on to approach the fatal ring, where all his strug- gles are useless. When near enough, Kenton suddenly exerted himself violently, and succeeded in wrapping the long hair of his rival around the sapling. He then sprung to his feet, and inflicted a terrible revenge for all his past injuries. In a few seconds Leitchman was gasping, ap- parently in the agonies of deaths Kenton instantly fled, without even returning for an additional supply of cloth- ing, and directed his steps westward. During the first day of his journey, he traveled in much agitation. He supposed that Leitchman was dead r and that the hue and cry would instantly be raised after him- self as the murderer- The constant apprehension of a gallows, lent wings to his flight,, and he scarcely allow r ed himself a moment for refreshment,, until he had reached the neighborhood of the Warm Springs, where the settlements were thin, and the immediate danger of pursuit was over. Here he fortunately fell in with an exile from the state of New Jersey, of the name of Johnson, who was traveling westward on foot, and driving: a single pack horse, laden with a few necessaries, before him. They soon became acquainted, related their adventures to each other,, and agreed to travel together. They plunged boldly into the w ilderness of the Alle- ghany mountains,. and subsisting upon wild game and a small quantity of flour, which Johnson had brought with him, they made no halt until they arrived at a small set- tlement on Cheat river, one of the prongs of the Monon- gahela. Here the two friends separated, and Kenton, (who had assumed the name of Butler,) attached himself to a small company headed by John Mahon and Jacob Greathouse, who had united for the purpose of exploring the country. They quickly built a large canoe, and descend- ed the river as far as the Province’s settlement. There SIMON KENTON. S3 Kenton became acquainted with two young adventurers, Yager and Strader, the former of whom had been taken by the Indians when a child, and had spent many years in their village* He informed Kenton that there was a country below, which the Indians called Kan-tuck-ee, which was a perfect Elysium; that the ground was not only the richest, and the vegetation the most luxuriant in the world; but, that the immense herds of buffalo and elk, which ranged at large through its forests, would appear incredible to one who had never witnessed such a spectacle* He added, that it was entirely uninhabited, and was open to all who chose to hunt there > that he himself had often accompanied the Indians in their grand hunting parties through the country, and was confident that he could conduct him to the same ground, if he was willing to venture* Kenton eagerly closed with the proposal, and announ- ced his readiness to accompany him immediately. A ca- noe was speedily procured, and the three young men com- mitted themselves to the waters of the Ohio, in search of the enchanted hunting ground, which Yager had visited in his youth, while a captive among the Indians. Yager had no idea of its exact distance from Province’s settlement. He recollected only that he had crossed the Ohio in order to reach it, and declared that, by sailing down the river for a few days, they would come to the spot where the Indians were accustomed to cross, and assured Kenton that there would be no difficulty in recognizing it, that its appearance was different from all the rest of the world, &c. &c. Fired by Yager’s glowing description of its beauty, and eager to reach this new El Dorado of the west, the young men rowed hard for several days, confidently expecting that every bend of the river would usher them into the land of promise. No such country, however, appeared; and at length Kenton and Strader became rather sceptical as to its existence at all. They rallied Yager freely upon the subject, who still declared positively that they would soon witness the confirmation of all that he had said. Af- ter descending, however, as low as the spot where Man- chester now stands, and seeing nothing which resembled 84 WESTERN ADVENTURE. Yager’s country, they held a council, in which it was de- termined to return, and survey the country more carefully; Yager still insisting, that they must have passed it in the night. They, accordingly, retraced their steps, and suc- cessively explored the land about Salt Lick, Little and Big Sandy, and Guyandotte. At length, being totally wearied out in searching for what had no existence, they turned their attention entirely to hunting and trapping, and spent nearly two years upon the great Kenawha, in this agreeable and profitable occupation. They obtained clothing in exchange for their furs, from the traders of fort Pitt, and the forest supplied them abundantly with wild game for food. In March, 1773, while reposing in their tent, after the labors of the day, they were suddenly attacked by a party of Indians. Strader was killed at the first fire, and Ken- ton and Yager with difficulty effected their escape, being compelled to abandon their guns, blankets, and provisions, and commit themselves to the wilderness, without the means of sheltering themselves from the cold, procuring a morsel of food, or even kindling a fire. They were far removed from any white settlement, and had no other pros- pect than that of perishing by famine, or falling a sacrifice to the fury of such Indians as might chance to meet them. Reflecting, however, that it was never too late for men to be utterly lost, they determined to strike through the woods for the Ohio river, and take such fortune as it should please heaven to bestow. Directing their route by the barks of trees, they press- ed forward in a straight direction for the Ohio, and during the two first days allayed the piercing pangs of hunger by chewing such roots as they could find on their way. On the third day, their strength began to fail, and the keen appetite which, at first, had constantly tortured them, was succeeded by a nausea, accompanied with dizziness and a sinking of the heart, bordering on despair. On the fourth day, they often threw themselves upon the ground, deter- mined to await the approach of death; and as often were stimulated, by the instinctive love of life, to arise and re- sume their journey. Or the fifth, they were completely ex SIMON KENTON. 8§ hausted and were able only to crawl, at intervals. In this manner, they traveled about a mile during the day, and succeeded, by sunset, in reaching the banks of the Ohio. Here, to their inexpressible joy, they encountered a party of traders, from whom they obtained a comfortable supply of provisions. The traders were so much startled at the idea of being exposed to perils, such as those which Kenton and Yager had just escaped, that they lost no time in removing from such a dangerous vicinity, and instantly returned to the mouth of the Little Kenawha, where they met with Dr. Briscoe at the head of another exploring party. From him, Ken- ton obtained a rifle and some ammunition, with which he again plunged alone into the forest, and hunted with suc- cess until the summer of 1773 was far advanced. Return- ing, then, to the Little Kenawha, he found a party of fourteen men under the direction of Dr. Wood and Han- cock Lee, who were descending the Ohio with the view of joining Captain Bullitt, who was supposed to be at the mouth of Scioto, with a large party. Kenton instantly joined them, and descended the river in canoes as far as the Three Islands, landing frequently and examining the country on each side of the river. At the Three Islands they were alarmed by the approach of a large party of Indians, by whom they were compelled to abandon their canoes and strike diagonally through the wilderness for Greenbriar county, Virginia. They suffer- ed mueh during this journey from fatigue and famine, and were compelled at one time (notwithstanding the danger of their situation,) to halt for fourteen days and wait upon Dr. Wood, who had unfortunately been bitten by a copper- head snake, and rendered incapable of moving for that length of time. Upon reaching the settlements the party separated. Kenton, not wishing to venture to Virginia, (having heard nothing of Leitchman’s recovery,) built a canoe on the banks of the Monongahela, and returned to the mouth of the great Kenawha, hunted with success until the spring of 1774, when a war broke out between the Indian tribes and the colonies, occasioned, in a great measure, by WESTERN ADVENTURE. m the murder of the celebrated chief, Logan’s family, by Captain Cressup. Kenton was not in the great battle near the mouth of the Kenawha, but acted as a spy throughout the whole of the campaign, in the course of which, he traversed the country around fort Pitt, and a large part of the present state of Ohio. When Dunmore’s forces were disbanded, Kenton, in company with two others, determined on making a second effort to discover the rich lands bordering on the Ohio, of which Yager had spoken. Having built a canoe, and pro- vided themselves abundantly with ammunition, theylde- scended the river as far as the mouth of Big Bone Creek, upon which the celebrated Lick of that name is situated. They there disembarked, and explored the country for several days; but not finding the land equal to their ex- pectations, they reascended the river as far as the mouth of Cabin Creek, a few miles above Maysville. From this point, they set out with a determination to examine the country carefully, until they could find land answering in some degree, to Yager’s description. In a short time, they reached the neighborhood of May’s Lick, and for the first time were struck with the uncommon beauty of the country and fertility of the soil. Here they fell in with the great buffalo trace, which, in a few hours, brought them to the Lower Blue Lick. The flats upon each side of the river were crowded with immense herds of buffalo, that had come down from the interior for the sake of the salt; and a number of elk were seen up- on the bare ridges which surrounded the springs. Their great object was now achieved. They had discovered a country far more rich than any which they had yet beheld, and where the game seemed as abundant as the grass of the plain. After remaining a few days at the Lick, and killing an immense number of deer and buffalo, they crossed the Lick- ing, and passed through the present counties of Scott, Fayette, Woodford, Clarke, Montgomery, and Bath; when, falling in with another buffalo trace, it conducted them to the Upper Blue Lick, where they again beheld elk and by^alo in immense numbers. Highly gratified at the sue- SIMON KENTON. 8 ? cess of their expedition, they quickly returned to their canoe, and ascended the river as far as Green Bottom, where they had left their skins, some ammunition, and a few hoes, which they had procured at Kenawha, with the view of cultivating the rich ground which they expected to find. Returning as quickly as possible, they built a cabin on the spot where the town of Washington now stands, and having cleared an acre of ground, in the center of a large canebrake, they planted it with Indian corn. Strolling about the country in various directions, they one day fell in with two white men near the Lower Blue Lick, who had lost their guns, blankets, and ammunition,, and were much distressed for provisions and the means of extricating themselves from the wilderness. They informed them that there names were Fitzpatrick and Hendricks; that, in descending the Ohio, their canoe had been overset by a sudden squally and that they were compelled to swim ashore, without being able to save any thing from the wreck; that they had wandered thus far through the woods, in the effort to penetrate through the country,, to the set- tlements above, but must infallibly perish, unless they could be furnished with guns and ammunition. Kenton informed them of the small settlement which he had opened at Washington, and invited them to join him and share such fortune as Providence might bestow. Hendricks consented to remain,but Fitzpatrick,being hear- tily sick of the woods, insisted upon returning to the Monon- gahela* Kenton and his two friends, accompanied Fitzpatrick to “ the point,” as it was then called, being the- spot where Maysville now stands, and having given him a gun, &x., assisted him in crossing the river, and took leave of him on the other side* In the mean time, Hendricks had been left at the Blue Lick, without a gun, but with a good supply of provisions, until the party could return from the river. As soon as Fitzpatrick had gone, Kenton and his two friends hasten- ed to return to the Lick, not doubting for a moment, that they would find Hendricks in camp as they had left him* Upon arriving at the point where the tent had stood, how- WESTERN ADVENTURE. 88 ever, they were alarmed at finding it deserted, with evi- dent marks of violence around it. Several bullet holes were to be seen in the poles of which it was constructed, and various articles belonging to Hendricks, were tossed about in too negligent a manner to warrant the belief that it had been done by him. At a little distance from the camp, in a low ravine, they observed a thick smoke, as if from a fire just be- inning to burn. They did not doubt for a moment, hat Hendricks had fallen into the hands of the Indians, and believing that a party of them were then assembled around the fire which was about to be kindled, they betook themselves to their heels, and fled faster and farther, than true chivalry perhaps would justify. They remained at a distance until the evening of the next day, when they ventured cautiously to return to camp. The fire was still burning, although faintly, and after carefully reconnoiter- ing the adjacent ground, they ventured at length to ap- proach the spot, and there beheld the skull and bones of their unfortunate friend ! He had evidently been roasted to death by a party of In- dians, and must have been alive at the time when Kenton and his companions approached on the preceding day. It was a subject of deep regret to the party, that they had not reconnoitered the spot more closely, as it was probable that their friend might have been rescued. The number of Indians might have been small, and a brisk and unex- pected attack might have dispersed them. Regret, how- ever, was now unavailing, and they sadly retraced their steps to their camp at Washington, pondering upon- the uncertainty of their own condition, and upon the danger to which they were hourly exposed from the numerous bands of hostile Indians, who were prowling around them in every direction. They remained at Washington, entirely undisturbed, until the month of September, when again visiting the Lick, they saw a white man, who informed them that the interior of the country was already occupied by the whites, and that there was a thriving settlement at Boones- borough. Highly gratified at this intelligence, and anx- SIMON KENTON. 89 ious once more to enjoy the society of men, they broke up their encampment at Washington, and visited the different stations which had been formed in the country. Kenton sustained two sieges in Boonesborough, and served as a spy, with equal diligence and success, until the summer of 1778, when Boone, returning from captivity, as has already been mentioned, concerted an expedition against the small Indian town on Paint Creek. Kenton acted as a spy on this expedition, and after Crossing the Ohio, being some distance in advance of the rest, he was suddenly startled by hearing a loud laugh from an adjoining thicket, which he was just about to en- ter. Instantly halting, he took his station behind a tree, and waited anxiously for a repetition of the noise. In a few minutes, two Indians approached the spot where he lay, both mounted upon a small pony, and chatting and laughing in high good humor. Having permitted them to approach within good rifle distance, he raised his gun, and aiming at the breast of the foremost, pulled the trigger. Both Indians fell ; one shot dead, the other severe- ly wounded. Their frightened pony galloped back into the cane, giv- ing the alarm to the rest of the party who were some distance in the rear. Kenton instantly ran up to scalp the dead man and to tomahawk his wounded companion, according to the usual rule of western warfare; but, when about to put an end to the struggles of the wounded Indian, who did not seem disposed to submit very quietly to the operation, his attention was attracted by a rustling of the cane on his right, and turning rapidly in that direction, he beheld two Indians within twenty steps of him, very deliberately ta- king aim at his person. A quick spring to one side, on his part, was instantly followed by the flash and report of their rifles ; the balls whistled close to his ears, causing him involuntarily to duck his head, but doing him no injury. Not liking so hot a neighborhood, and ignorant of the number which might yet be behind, he lost no time in re- gaining the shelter of the wood, leaving the dead Indian unscalped, and the wounded man to the care of his friends. Scarcely had he treed, when a dozen Indians appeared on WESTERN ADVENTURE. $0 the edge of the canebrake, and seemed disposed to press upon him with more vigor than was consistent with the safety of his present position. His fears however, were instantly relieved by the appearance of Boone and his party, who came running up as rapidly as a due regard to the shelter of their persons would permit, and opening a brisk fire upon the Indians, quickly compelled them to re- gain the shelter of the canebrake, with the loss of several wounded, who, as usual, were carried ofE The dead In- dian, in the hurry of the retreat was abandoned, and Ken- ton at last had the gratification of taking his scalp 1 . Boone, as has already been mentioned, instantly re- traced his steps to Boonesborough.; but Kenton and his friend Montgomery, determined to proceed alone to the Indian town, and at least obtain seme recompense for the trouble of their journey. Approaching the village with the cautious and stealthy pace of the cat or panther, they took their stations upon the edge of the cornfield, supposing that the Indians would enter it as usual to gather roasting- ears. They remained here patiently all day, but did not see a single Indian, and heard only the voices of some children who were playing near them. Being disappoint- ed in the hope of getting a shot, they entered the Indian town in the night, and stealing four good horses, made a rapid night’s march for the Ohio, which they crossed in safety, and on the second day afterwards, reached Logan’a fort with their booty. Scarcely had he returned, when Colonel Bowman order- ed him to take his friend Montgomery, and another young man named Clark, and go on a secret expedition to an In- dian toAvn on the Little Miami, against which the Colonel meditated an expedition, and of the exact condition of which he wished to have certain information. They in- stantly set out, in obedience to their orders, and reached the neighborhood of the town without being discovered. They examined it attentively, and walked around the houses during the night with perfect impunity. Thus far rail had gone well; and had they been contented to return after the due execution of their orders, they would hava avoided the heavy calamity which awaited them. SIMON KENTON. 91 Bat, unfortunately, during their nightly promenade, they stumbled upon a pound in which were a number of In- dian horses. The temptation was not to be resisted. They each mounted a horse, but not satisfied with that, they could not find it in their hearts to leave a single animal behind them, and as some of the horses seemed indisposed to change masters, the affair was attended with so much fracas, that at last they were discovered. The cry ran through the village at once, that the Long Knives were Btealing their horses right before the doors of their wig- wams, and old and young, squaws, boys, and warriors, ail sallied out with loud screams to save their property from these greedy spoilers. Kenton and his friends quickly discovered that they had overshot the mark, and that they must ride for their lives; but even in this extremity, they could not bring themselves to give up a single horse which they had haltered, and while two of them rode m front and led, I know not how many horses, the other brought up the rear, and plying his whip from right to left, did not permit a single animal to lag behind. In this manner they dashed through the woods at a fu- rious rate with the hue and cry after them, until their course was suddenly stopped by an impenetrable swamp. Here, from necessity, they paused for a few moments and listen- ed attentively. Hearing no sounds of pursuit, they re- sumed their course, and skirting the swamp for some dis- tance, in the vain hope of crossing it, they bent their course in a straight direction towards the Ohio. They rode du- ring the whole night without resting a moment — and halt- ing for a few minutes at day-light, they continued their journey throughout the day, and the whole of the follow- ing night, and by this uncommon expedition, on the morn- ing of the second day they reached the northern bank of the Ohio. Crossing the river would now ensure their safety, but this was likely to prove a difficult undertaking, and th® close pursuit which they had reason to expect, rendered it necessary to lose as little time as possible. The wind was high and the river rough and boisterous. It was de- termined that Kenton should cross with the horses, whiW 92 WESTERN ADVENTURE. Clark and Montgomery should construct a raft in order to transport their guns, baggage and ammunition to the op- posite shore. The necessary preparations were soon made, and Kenton, after forcing his horses into the river, plunged in himself and swam by their side. In a very few minutes the high waves completely overwhelmed him and forced him considerably below the horses, that stemmed the current much more vigorously than himself. The horses being thus left to themselves, turned about, and swam again to the Ohio shore, where Kenton was compelled to follow them. Again he forced them into the water — and again they returned to the same spot, until Kenton became so exhausted by repeated efforts, as to be unable to swim. A council was then held and the ques- tion proposed “what was to be done?” That the Indians would pursue them, was certain ; that the horses would not, and could not be made to cross the river in its present state, was equally certain. Should they abandon their horses and cross on the raft, or remain with their horses and take such fortune as heaven should send them? The latter alternative was unanimously adopted. Death or captivity might be tolerated — but the loss of so beautifuf a lot of horses, after having worked so hard for them, was not to be thought of for a moment. As soon as it was determined that themselves and hor- ses were to share the same fate, it again became necessa- ry to fix upon some probable plan of saving them. Should they move up or down the river, or remain where they were? The latter course was adopted. It was supposed that the wind would fall at sunset, and the river become sufficiently calm to admit of their passage, and as it was supposed probable that the Indians might be upon them before night, it was determined to conceal the horses in a neighboring ravine, while they should take their stations in the adjoining wood. A more miserable plan could not have been adopted. If they could not consent to sacrifice their horses, in order to save their own lives, they should have moved either up or down the river, and thus have preserved the distance from the Indians which their rapidi- ty of movement had gained. SIMON KENTON, 93 The Indians would have followed their trail, and being twenty four hours march behind them, could never have overtaken them. But neglecting this obvious considera- tion, they stupidly sat down until sunset, expecting that the river would become more calm. The day passed away in tranquility, but at night the wind blew harder than ever, and the water became so rough, that even their raft would have been scarcely able to cross. Not an instant more should have been lost, in moving from so dangerous a post; but as if totally infatuated, they remained where they were until morning; thus wasting twenty-four hours of most precious time in total idleness. In the morning, the wind abated, and the river became calrm — but it was now too late. Their horses, recollecting the difficulty of the passage on the preceding day, had become as obstinate and heedless as their masters, and positively and repeat- edly refused to take the water. Finding every effort to compel them, entirely unavailing, their masters at length determined to do what ought to have been done at first. Each resolved to mount a horse and make the best of his way down the river to Louii*- vilie. Had even this resolution, however tardily adop- ted, been executed with decision, the party would prob- ably have been saved, but after they were mounted, instead of leaving the ground instantly, they went back upon their own trail, in the vain effort to regain possession of the rest of their horses, which had broken from them in the last effort to drive them into the water. They wea- ried out their good genius, and literally fell victims to their love for horse-flesh. They had scarcely ridden one hundred yards, (Kenton in the center, the others upon the flanks, with an interval of two hundred yards between them,) when Kenton heard a loud halloo, apparently coming from the spot which they had just left. Instead of getting out of the way as fast as possible, and trusting to the speed of his horse and the hickness of the wood for safety, he put the last capping stone to his imprudence, and dismounting, walked leisure- ly back to meet his pursuers, and thus give them as little trouble as possible. He quickly beheld three Indians, and 94 WESTERN ADVENTURE. one white man, all well mounted. . Wishing to give the alarm to his companions, he raised his rifle to his shoulder, took a steady aim at the breast of the foremost Indian, and drew the trigger. His gun had become wet on the raft and flashed. The enemy were instantly alarmed, and dashed at him. Now, at last, when flight could be of no service, Kenton betook himself to his heels, and was pursued by four horse- men at full speed. He instantly directed his steps to the thickest part of the wood, where there was much fallen timber and a rank growth cf underwood, and had succee- ded, as he thought, in baffling his pursuers, when, just as he was leaving the fallen timber and entering the open wood, an Indian on horseback galloped round the corner of the wood, and approached him so rapidly as to render flight useless. The horseman rode up, holding out his hand and calling out “brother! brother!” in a tone of great affection. Kenton observes that if his gun would have made fire, he would have “ brothered” him to his heart’s content, but being totally unarmed, he called out that he would surrender if they would give him quarter and good treatment. Promises were cheap with the Indian, and he showered them out by the dozen, continuing all the while to advance with extended hands and a writhing, grin upon his coun- tenance, which was intended for a smile of courtesy. Seizing Kenton’s hand, he grasped it with violence. Ken- ton, not liking the manner of his captor,, raised his gun to knock him down, when an Indian who had followed him closely through the brushwood, instantly sprung upon his back and pinioned his arms to his side. The one who had just approached him, then seized him by the hair and shook him until his teeth rattled, while the rest of the party coming up, they all fell upon Kenton with their tongues and ramrods, until he thought they would scold or beat him to death. They were the owners of the hor- ses which he had carried offhand now took ample revenge for the loss of their property. At every stroke of their ramrods over his head,, (and they were neither few nor far SIMON KENTON. 95 between,) they would repeat in a tone of strong indigna- tion, “ steal Indian hoss!! hey!!” Their attention, however, was soon directed to Mont gomery, who, having heard the noise attending Kenton’s capture, very gallantly hastened up to his assistance; while Clark very prudently consulted his own safety in betaking himself to his heels, leaving his unfortunate companions to shift for themselves. Montgomery halted within gunshot and appeared busy with the pan of his gun, as if preparing to fire. Two Indians instantly sprung off in pursuit of him, while the rest attended to Kenton. In a few minutes Kenton heard the crack cf two rifles in quick succession, followed by a halloo, which announced the fate of his friend.. The Indians quickly returned, waving the bloody scalp of Montgomery, and with countenances and gestures which menaced him with a similar fate. They then proceeded to secure their prisoner. They first compelled him to lie upon his back, and stretched out his arms to their full length. They then passed a stout stick at right angles across his breast, to each extremity of which his wrists were fastened by thongs made of Buf- falo’s hide. Stakes were then driven into the earth, near his feet, to which they were fastened in a similar manner. A halter was then tied around his neck, and fastened to a sapling which grew near, and finally a strong rope was passed under his belly, lashed strongly to the pole which lay transversely upon his breast, and finally wrapped around his arms at the elbows, in such a manner as to pin- ion them to the pole with a painful violence, and render him literally incapable of moving hand,, foot, or head, in the slightest manner. During the whole of this severe operation, neither their tongues nor hands were by any means idle. They cuffed him from time to time with great heartiness, until his ears rung again, and abused him for a a tief ! — a hoss steal! — a rascal!” and finally, for a “ d* d white man!” [ may here observe, that aii the western Indians had pick- ed up a good many English words, particularly our oaths r which, from the frequency with which they were used by our hunters and traders,, they probably looked upon m- 96 WESTERN ADVENTURE. the very root and foundation of the English language. Kenton remained in this painful attitude throughout the night, looking forward to certain death, and most probably torture, as soon as he should reach their towns. Their rage against him seemed to increase rather than abate, from indulgence, and in the morning it displayed itself in a form at once ludicrous and cruel. Among the horses which Kenton had taken, and which their original owners had now recovered, was a fine but wild young colt, totally unbroken, and with all his honors of mane and tail undocked. Upon him, Kenton was mounted, without saddle or bridle, with his hands tied be- hind him, and his feet fastened under the horse’s belly. The country was rough and bushy, and Kenton had no means of protecting his face from the brambles, through which it was expected that the colt would dash. As soon as the rider was firmly fastened to his back, the colt was turned loose with a sudden lash, but after exerting a few curvetts and caprioles, to the great distress of his rider, but to the infinite amusement of the Indians, he appeared to take compassion on his rider, and falling into a line with the other horses, avoided the brambles entirely, and went on very well. In this manner he rode through the day. At night he was taken from the horse and confined as before. On the third day, they came within a few miles of Chilli- cothe. Here the party halted, and despatched a messen- ger to inform the village of their arrival, in order, I sup- pose, to give them time to prepare for his reception. In a short time Blackfish, one of their chiefs, arrived, and ra- garding Kenton with a stern countenance, thundered out in very good English, “you have been stealing horses?’* “Yes sir.” “Did Captain Boone tell you to steal our horses?” “No sir; I did it of my own accord.” This frank confession was two irritating to be borne. Blackfish made no reply, but brandishing a hickory switch, which he held in his hand, he applied it so briskly to Kenton’* naked back and shoulders, as to bring the blood freely, and occasion acute pain. Thus, alternately beaten and scolded, ho marched on to SIMON KENTON. 97 the village. At the distance of a mile from Chillicothe, he saw every inhabitant of the town, men, women, and children, running out to feast their eyes with a view of the prisoner. Every individual, down to the smallest child, appeared in a paroxysm of rage. They whooped, they yelled, they hooted, they clapped their hands, and poured upon him a flood of abuse to which all that he had yet received, was gentleness and civility. With loud cries, they demanded that their prisoner should be tied to the stake. The hint was instantly complied with. A stake was quickly fastened into the ground. The remnant of Kenton’s shirt and breeches were torn from his person, (the squaws officiating with great dexterity in both operations,) and his hands being tied together, and raised above his head, were fastened to the top of the stake. The whole party then danced around him until midnight, yelling and screaming in their usual frantic manner, striking him with switches, and slapping him with the palms of their hands. He expected every moment to undergo the torture of fire, but that was reserved for another time. They wished to prolong the pleasure of tormenting nim as much as possible, and after having caused him to anticipate the bitterness of death, until a late hour of the night, they released him from the stake and conveyed him to the village. Early in the morning he beheld the scalp of Montgom- ery stretched upon a hoop, and drying in the air, before the door of one of their principal houses. He was quickly led out and ordered to run the gauntlet. A row of boys, wo- men, and men, extended to the distance of a quarter of a mile. At the starting place, stood two grim looking war- riors, with butcher knives in their hands ; at the extremity of the line, was an Indian beating a drum; and a few pa- ces beyond the drum, was the door of the council house. Clubs, switches, hoe-handles, and tomahawks were bran- dished along the whole line, causing the sweat involun- tarily to stream from his pores, at the idea of the discipline which his naked skin was to receive during the race. The moment for starting arrived; the great drum at the door of the council house was struck ; and Kenton sprung 93 WESTERN ADVENTURE. forward in the race. A scene, precisely resembling a splendid picture in the Last of the Mohicans, now took place. Kenton avoided the row of his enemies, and turn ing to the east, drew the whole party in pursuit of him. He doubled several times with great activity, and at length observing an opening, he darted through it, and pressed forward to the council house with a rapidity which left his pursuers far behind. One or two of the In- dians succeeded in throwing themselves between him and the goal, and from these alone he received a few blows, but was much less injured than he could at first have sup- posed possible. As soon as the race was over, a council was held in or- der to determine whether he should be burnt to death on the spot, or carried round to the other villages, and exhibit- ed to every tribe. The arbiters of his fate, sat in a cir- cle on the floor of the council house, while the unhappy prisoner, naked and bound, was committed to the care of a guard in the open air. The deliberation commenced. Each warrior sat in silence, while a large war club was passed round the circle. Those who were opposed to burning the prisoner on the spot, were to pass the club in silence to the next warrior, those in favor of burning, were to strike the earth violently with the club before passing it. A teller was appointed to count the votes. This dig- nitary quickly reported that the opposition had prevailed; that his execution was suspended for the present; and that it was determined to take him to an Indian town on Mad river, called Waughcotomoco. His fate was quickly announced to him by a renegado white man, who acted as interpreter, Kenton felt rejoiced at the issue — but nat- urally became anxious to know what was in reserve for him at Waughcotomoco. He accordingly asked the white man “what the Indians intended to do with him, upon reach- ing the appointed place?” “Burn you! G— d d n you!!!” was the ferocious reply. He asked no farther question, and the scowling interpreter walked away. Instantly preparations were made for his departure, and to his great joy, as well as astonishment, his clothes were T SIMON KENTON. 99 restored to him, and he was permitted to remain unbound. Thanks to the ferocious intimation of the interpreter, he was aware of the fate in reserve for him, and secretly de- termined that he would never reach Waughcotomoco alive if it was possible to avoid it. Their route lay through an unpruned forest, abounding in thickets and undergrowth. Unbound as he was, it would not be impossible to escape from the hands of his conductors; and if he could once enter the thickets, he thought that he might be enabled to baffle his pursuers. At the worst, he could only be reta- ken — and the fire would burn no hotter after an attempt to escape, than before. During the whole of their march, he remained abstracted and silent; often meditating an effort for liberty, and as often shrinking from the peril of the attempt. At length he was aroused from his reverie, by the Indi- ans firing off their guns, and raising the shrill scalp halloo. The signal was soon answered, and the deep roll of a drum was heard far in front, announcing to the unhappy prisoner, that they were approaching an Indian town where the gauntlet, certainly, and perhaps the stake aw r aited him. The idea of a repetition of the dreadful scenes which he uad already encountered, completely banished the indecis- ion which had hitherto withheld him, and with a sudden and startling cry, he sprung into the bushes and fled with the speed of a wild deer. The pursuit was instant and keen, some on foot, some on horseback. But he was fly- ing for his life; the stake and the hot iron, and the burn- ing splinters, were before his eyes, and he soon distanced the swiftest hunter that pursued him. But fate was against him at every turn. Thinking only of the enemy behind, he forgot that there might also be enemies before; and before he was aware of what he had done, he found that he had plunged into the center of a fresh party of horsemen, who had sallied from the town at the firing of the guns, and happened unfortunately to stumble upon the poor prisoner, now making a last effort for freedom. His heart sunk at once from the ardor of hope, to the very pit of despair, and he was again haltered and driven before them to town like an ox to the slaughter-house. 100 WESTERN ADVENTURE. Upon reaching the village, (Pickaway,) he was fastened to a stake near the door of the council house, and the war- riors again assembled in debate. In a short time, they issued from the council house, and surrounding him, they danced, yelled, &c. for several hours, giving kim once more a foretaste of the bitterness of death. On the following morning, their journey was continued, but the Indians had now become watchful, and gave him no opportunity of even attempting an escape. On the second day, he ar- rived at Waughcotomoco. Here he was again compelled to run the gauntlet, in which he was severely hurt: and immediately after this ceremony, he was taken to the council house, and all the warriors once more assembled to determine his fate. He sat silent and dejected upon the floor of the cabin, awaiting the moment which was to deliver him to the stake, when the door of the council house opened, and Simon Girty, James Girty, John Ward, and an Indian, came in with a woman (Mrs. Mary Kennedy,) as a prisoner, together with seven children and seven scalps. Kenton was instantly removed from the council house, and the delibera- tions of the assembly were protracted to a very late hour, in consequence of the arrival of the last named party with a fresh drove of prisoners. At length he was again summoned to attend the coun- cil house, being informed that his fate was decided. Re- garding the mandate as a mere prelude to the stake and fire, which he knew was intended for him, he obeyed it with the calm despair which had now succeeded the burn- ing anxiety of the last few days. Upon entering the council house, he was greeted with a savage scowl, which, if he had still cherished a spark of hope, would have com- pletely extinguished it. Simon Girty threw a blanket up- on the floor, and harshly ordered him to take a seat upon it. The order was not immediately complied with, and Girty impatiently seizing his arm, jerked him roughly upon the blanket, and pulled him down upon it. In the same rough and menacing tone,* Girty then in- terrogated him as to the condition of Kentucky. “ How many men are there in Ke^fesokyl” “It is impossible SIMON KENTON. 101 fcr me to answer that question,” replied Kenton, “but I can tell you the number of officers and their respective ranks; you can then judge for yourself.” “Do you know William Stewart?” “Perfectly well; he is an old and in- timate acquaintance.” “ What is your own name?” “ Si- mon Butler!” replied Kenton. Never did the annuncia- tion of a name produce a more powerful effect. Girty and Kenton (then bearing the name of Butler,) had served as spies together, in Dunmore’s expedition. The former had not then abandoned the society of the whites for that of the savages, and had become warmly attached to Kenton du- ring the short period of their services together. As soon as he heard the name he became strongly agitated; and, gpringing from his seat, he threw his arms around Ken- ton’s neck, and embraced him with much emotion. Then turning to the assembled warriors, who remained astonished spectators of this extraordinary scene, he ad- dressed them in a short speech, which the deep earnest- ness of his tone, and the energy of his gesture, rendered eloquent. He informed them that the prisoner, whom they had just condemned to the stake, was his ancient com- rade and bosom friend: that they had traveled the same war path, slept upon the same blanket, and dwelt in the game wigwam. He entreated them to have compassion upon his feelings; to spare him the agony of witnessing the torture of an old friend, by the hands of his adopted brothers; and not to refuse so trifling a favor as the life of a white man, to the earnest intercession of one who had proved by three years faithful service, that he was sincere- ly and zealously devoted to the cause of the Indians* The speech was listened to, in unbroken silence. As goon as he had finished, several chiefs expressed their ap- probation by a deep guttural interjection, while others were equally as forward in making known their objections to the proposal. They urged that his fate had already been determined in a large and solemn council, and that they woulr be acting like squaws to change their minds every hour. They insisted upon the flagrant misdemeanors of Kenton ; that he had not only stolen their horses, but had flashed his gun at one of their young men ; that it was in 102 WESTERN ADVENTURE. vain to suppose that so bad a man could ever become an Indian at heart, like their brother Girty; that the Ken- tuckians were all alike, very bad people, and ought to be killed as fast as they were taken; and, finally, they ob- served that many of their people had come from a distance, solely to assist at the torture of the prisoner, and patheti- cally painted the disappointment and chagrin with which they would hear that all their trouble had been for noth- ing. Girty listened with obvious impatience to the young warriors, who had so ably argued against a reprieve — and starting to his feet, as soon as the others had concluded, he urged his former request with great earnestness. He briefly, but strongly recapitulated his own services, and the many and weighty instances of attachment which he had given. He asked if he could be suspected of partial- ity to the whites? When had he ever before interceded for any of that hated race? Had he not brought seven scalps home with him from the last expedition? and had he not submitted seven white prisoners that very evening to their discretion? Had he expressed a wish that a single one of the captives should be saved? This was his first and should be his last request: . for if they refused to him , what was never refused to the intercession of one of their natural chiefs, he would look upon himself as disgraced in their eyes, and considered as unworthy of confidence. Which of their own natural warriors had been more zeal- ous than himself? From what expedition had he ever shrunk? what white man had ever seen his back? Whose tomahawk had be£n bloodier than his? He would say no more. He asked it as a first and last favor; as an evidence that they approved of his zeal and fidelity, that the life of his bosom friend might be spared. Fresh speakers arose upon each side, and the debate was carried on for an hour and a half with great heat and energy. During the whole of this time, Kenton’s feelings may eadily be imagined. He could not understand a syllable of what was said. He saw that Girty spoke with deep earnestness, and that the eyes of the assembly were often turned upon himself with various expressions. He felt SIMON KENTON. 103 satisfied that his friend was pleading for his life, and that he was violently opposed by a large part of the council At length, the war club was produced and the final vote taken. Kenton watched its progress with thrilling emo- tion, which yielded to the most rapturous delight, as he perceived, that those who struck the floor of the council house, were decidedly inferior in number to those who passed it in silence. Having thus succeeded in his be- nevolent purpose, Girty lost no time in attending to the comfort of his friend. He led him into his own wigwam, and from his own store gave him a pair of moccasins and leggins, a breech-cloth, a hat, a coat, a handkerchief for his neck, and another for his head. The w r hole of this remarkable scene is in the highest degree honorable to Girty, and is in striking contrast to most of his conduct after his union with the Indians. No man can be completely hardened, and no character is at all times the same. Girty had been deeply offended with the whites ; and knowing that his desertion to the Indians had been universally and severely reprobated, and that he himself was regarded with detestation by his former coum trymen, he 'seems to have raged against them from these causes, with a fury which resembled rather the paroxysm of a maniac, than the deliberate cruelty of a naturally fe- rocious temper. Fierce censure never reclaims, but rath- er drives to still greater extremities; and this is the rea- son that renegadoes are so much fiercer than natural foes — and that when females fall, they fall irretrievably. For the space of three weeks, Kenton lived in perfect tranquillity. Girtv’s kindness was uniform and indefati- gable. He introduced Kenton to his own family, and ac- companied him to the wigwams of the principal chiefs, who seemed all at once to have turned from the extremity of rage to the utmost kindness and cordiality Fortune, however, seemed to have selected him for her football, and to have snatched him from the frying pan only to throw him into the fire. About twenty days after his most provi- dential deliverance from the stake, he was walking in com- pany with Girty and an Indian named Redpole, when an- other Indian came from the village towards them, uttering 104 WESTERN ADVENTURE. repeatedly a whoop of peculiar intonation. Girty instant- ly told Kenton that it was the distress halloo, and tha they must all go instantly to the council house. Kenton’s heart involuntarily fluttered at the intelligence, for he dreaded all w 7 hoops, and hated all council houses, firmly believing that neither boded him any good. Nothing, however, could be done, to avoid whatever fate aw T aited him, and he sadly accompanied Girty and Redpole back to the village. Upon approaching the Indian who had hallood, Girty and Redpole shook hands with him. Kenton likewise offered his hand, but the Indian refused to take it, at the same time scowling upon him ominously. This took place within a few paces of the door of the council house. Upon entering, they saw that the house w 7 as unusually full. Many chiefs and warriors from the distant towns were present; and their countenances were grave, severe, and forbidding. Girty, Redpole, and Kenton, walked around, offering their hands successively to each warrior. The hands of the two first were cordially received; but when poor Kenton anxiously offered his hand to the first warrior, it was rejected with the same scowling eye as before. He passed on to the second, but w^as still rejected: he persevered, however, until his hand had been refused by the first six; when, sinking into despondence, he turned off and stood apart from the rest. The debate quickly commenced. Kenton looked ea- gerly towards Girty, as his last and only hope. His friend looked anxious and distressed. The chiefs from a distance arose one after another, and spoke in a firm and indignant tone, often looking at Kenton with an eye of death. Girty did not desert him, but his eloquence appeared wasted upon the distant chiefs. After a warm debate, he turned to Kenton and said, “well! my friend! you must die!” One of the stranger chiefs instantly seized him by the collar, and the others surrounding him, he was strongly pinioned, committed to a guard, and instantly marched off. His guard w ere on horseback, while the prisoner waa driven before them on foot, with a long rope round his neck, the other end of which w T as held by one of the guard. In SIMON KEKTON. 105 this manner they had marched about two and a half miles, when Girty passed them on horseback, informing Kenton that he had friends at the next village, with whose aid he hoped to be able to do something for him. Girty passed on to the town, but finding that nothing could be done, he would not see his friend again, but returned to Waugh- cotomoco by a different route. They passed through the village without halting, and at the distance of tw T o and a half miles beyond it, Kenton had again an opportunity of witnessing the fierce hate with which these children of nature regard an enemy. At the distance of a few paces from the road, a squaw was busily engaged in chopping wood, while her lord and master was sitting on a log, smoking his pipe and directing her labors, with the indolent indifference common to the natives, when not under the influence of some exciting passion. The sight of Kenton, however, seemed to rouse him to fury. He hastily sprung up, with a sudden yell, snatched the axe from the squaw, and rushing upon the prisoner so rapidly as to give him no opportunity of escape, dealt him a blow with the axe which cut through his shoulder, breaking the bone and almost severing the arm from his body. He would instantly have repeated the blow, had not Kenton’s conductors interfered and protected him, severely repri- manding the Indian for attempting to rob them of the amusement of torturing the prisoner at They soon reached a large village upon the head waters of Scioto, where Kenton, for the first time, beheld the cele- brated Mingo Chief, Logan, so honorably mentioned in Mr. Jefferson’s Notes on Virginia. Logan walked grave- ly up to the place where Kenton stood, and the following short conversation ensued : “Well, young man, these young men seem very mad at you?” “Yes, sir, they certainly are.” “Well! don’t be disheartened, I am a great chief; you are to go to Sandusky; they speak of burning you ther3; but I will send two runners to-morrow to speak good for you.” Logan’s form was striking and manly, his countenance calm and noble, and he spoke the English language with fluency and correctness. Kenton’s spirits instantly rose at the address of tho benevolent chie^ and WESTERN ADVENTURE. 106 he once more looked upon himself as providentially rescues from the stake. On the following morning, two runners were despatch- ed to Sandusky, as the chief had promised, and until their return, Kenton was kindly treated, being permitted to spend much of his time with Logan, who conversed with him freely, and in the most friendly manner. In the eve- ning, the two runners returned, and were closeted with Logan. Kenton felt the most burning anxiety to know what was the result of their mission, but Logan did not visit him again until the next morning. He then walked up to him, accompanied by Kenton’s guards, and giving him a piece of bread, told him that he was instantly to be car- ried to Sandusky; and without uttering another word, turned upon bis heel and left him. Again, Kenton’s spirits sunk. From Logan’s manner, he supposed that his intercession had been unavailing, and that Sandusky was destined to be the scene of his final suffering. This appears to have been the truth. But fortune who, to use Lord Lovat’s expression, had been playing at cat and mouse with him for the last month, had selected Sandusky for the display of her strange and ca~ pricious power. He was driven into the town,, as usuaj,. and was to have been burnt on the following morning, when an Indian Agent, named Drewyer, interposed, and once more rescued him from the stake. He was anxious to obtain intelligence, for the British commandant at De- troit; and so earnestly insisted upon Kenton’s being deliv- ered up to him, that the Indians at length consented upon the express condition that after the required information had been obtained, he should again be placed at their dis- cretion. To this Drewyer consented, and without further difficulty, Kenton was transferred to his hands. Drewyer lost no time in removing him to Detroit. On the road, he informed Kenton of the condition upon which he had obtained possession of his person, assuring him, however, that no consideration should induce him to abandon a prisoner to the mercy of such wretches. Having dwelt at some lengfh upon the generosity of his own dis- position, and having sufficiently magnified the service which.. SIMON KENTON. m he had just rendered him, he began, at length, to cross question Kenton as to the force and condition of Kentucky, and particularly as to the number of men at Fort McIntosh Kenton very candidly declared his inability to answer ei- ther question, observing, that* he was merely a private, and by no means acquainted with matters of an enlarged and general import,* that his great business had hereto- fore been, to endeavor to take care of himself, which he Dad found a work of no small difficulty. Drewyer replied, that he believed him, and from that time Kenton was trou bled with no more questions. His condition at Detroit was not unpleasant. He was compelled to report himself every morning, to an English officer, and was restricted to certain boundaries through the day; but in other respects, he scarcely felt that he was a prisoner. His battered body and broken arm, were quickly repaired, and his emaciated limbs were again cloth ed with a proper proportion of flesh. He remained in this state of easy restraint from October, 1777, until June 1778 , when he meditated an escape. There was no diffi- culty in leaving Detroit; but he would be compelled to traverse a wilderness of more than two hundred miles, abounding with hostile Indians, and affording no means of subsistence, beyond the wild game, which could not be killed without a gun. In addition to this, he would certainly be pursued, and if retaken by the- Indians, he might ex- pect a repetition of all that he had undergone before, without the prospect of a second interposition on the part of the English. These considerations deterred him, for some time, from the attempt, but at length his impatience became uncon- trollable, and he determined to escape or perish in the at- tempt. He took his measures with equal secrecy and foresight. He cautiously sounded two young Kentuck- ians, then at Detroit, who had been taken with Boone at the Blue Licks, and had been purchased by the British. He found them as impatient as himself of captivity, and resolute to accompany him. Charging them not to breathe a syllable of their design to any other prisoners, he bu- sied himself for several days in making the necessary? 108 WESTERN ADVENTURE. preparations. It was absolutely necessary that they should be provided with arms, both for the sake of repel ling attack, and procuring the means of subsistence; and, at the same time, it was very difficult to obtain them, without the knowledge of the British commandant. By patiently waiting their opportunity, however, all these preliminary difficulties were overcome. Kenton formed a close friendship with two Indian hunters, deluged them with rum, and bought their guns for a mere trifle. After carefully hiding them in the woods, he returned to Detroit, and managed to procure another rifle, together with powder and balls, from a Mr. and Mrs. Edgar, citi- zens of the town. They then appointed a night for the attempt, and agreed upon a place of rendezvous. All things turned out prosperously. They met at the time and place appointed, without discovery, and taking a cir- cuitous route, avoided pursuit, and travelling only during the night, they at length arrived safely at Louisville, after march of thirty days. Thus terminated one of the most remarkable adven- tures in the whole range of western history. A fatalist would recognize the hand of destiny in every stage of its progress. In the infatuation with which Kenton refused to adopt proper measures for his safety, wffiile such were practicable; in the persevering obstinacy with which he remained upon the Ohio shore, until flight became useless ; and afterwards, in that remarkable succession of accidents, by w hich, without the least exertion on his part, he was alternately tantalized with a prospect of safety, and then plunged again into the deepest despair. He was eight times exposed to the gauntlet, three times tied to the stake, and as often thought himself upon the eve of a terrible death. All the sentences passed upon him, whether of mercy or condemnation, seemed to have been only pronounced in one council, in order to be reversed in another. Every friend that Providence raised up in his favor, was imme- diately followed by some enemy, who unexpectedly inter- posed, and turned his short glimpse of sunshine into deep- er darkness than ever. For three weeks, he was see-saw- BENJAMIN LOGAN. 10 * ing between life and death, and during the whole time, he was perfectly passive. No wisdom, or foresight, or exer- tion, could have saved him. Fortune fought his battle from first to last, and seemed determined to permit noth ing else to interfere. Scarcely had he reached Kentucky when he embarked in a new enterprise. Colonel George Rogers Clark had projected an expedi tion against the hostile posts of Vincennes and Kaskaskia, and invited all Kentuckians, who had leisure and inclina tion, to join him. Kenton instantly repaired to his stan- dard, and shared in the hardship and glory of one of the boldest, most arduous and successful expeditions, which have ever graced the American arms. The results of the campaign are well known. Secrecy and celerity were eminently combined in it, and Clark shared with the com- mon soldier, in encountering every fatigue, and braving every danger. Kenton, as usual, acted as a spy, and wae eminently serviceable, but no incident occurred, of suffi- cient importance to obtain a place* in these sketches. From that time, until the close of the Indian war m the west, Kenton was actively employed, generally in a frontier station, and occasionally in serious expeditions. He accompanied Edwards in his abortive expedition against the Indian towns, in 1785, and shared in Wayne’s decisive campaign of 1794. But, as his life will shortly be pub- lished, in a separate volume, it is unnecessary to pursue the subject farther in a sketch like the present. He is now living on Mad river, in the Ohio state, near the scene of his former adventures. His once gigantic form is now broken by age; and his last days will probably be spent in poverty and neglect ■ CHAPTER IV. Among the earliest and most respectable of the emi grants to Kentucky, was General Benjamin Logan. His father was an Irishman, who had left his own country ear 110 WESTERN ADVENTURE. ly in the 18ih century, and settled in Pennsylvania, from which he subsequently removed to Augusta county, Vir- ginia. Here he shortly afterwards died. Young Logan, as the eldest son, was entitled by the laws of Virginia, to the whole of the landed property, (his father having died intestate.) He refused, however, to avail himself of this circumstance, and as the farm upon w hich the family resi- ded w T as too small to admit of a division, he caused it to be sold, and the money to be distributed among his brothers and sisters, reserving a portion for his mother. At the age of twenty-one, he removed from Augusta county, to the banks of the Holston, where shortly afterwards, he purchased a farm and married. In 1774 he accompanied Dunmore in his expedition, probably as a private. In 1775, he removed to Kentucky, and soon became particularly distinguished. His person was striking and manly, his hair and complexion very dark, his eye keen and penetrating, his countenance grave, thoughtful, and expressive of a firmness, probity, and in- telligence, w hich w r ere eminently displayed throughout his life. His education w 7 as very imperfect, and confined, we believe, simply, to the arts of reading and w T riting. Having remained in Kentucky, in a very exposed situation, until the spring of 1776, he returned for his family, and brought them out to a small settlement, called Logan’s fort, not far from Harrodsburgh. The Indians during this summer were so numerous and daring in their excursions, that Lo- gan was compelled to remove his wife and family for safe- ty, to Harrodsburgh, w^hile he himself remained at his cabins, and cultivated a crop of corn. In the spring of 1777, his wife returned to Logan’s fort; and several settlers having joined him, he determined to maintain himself there at all risk. His courage was soon put to the test. On the morning of the 20th May, a few days after his w T ife had rejoined him, the women were milking the cows at the gate of the little fort, and soma of the garrison attending them, when a party of Indians appeared and fired upon them. One man was shot dead, and two more wounded, one of them mortally. The whole {tarty, including one of the wounded men,, instantly ra a BFJNJAMLN LOGA-Nt III into the fort and closed the gate. The enemy quickly showed themselves upon the edge of a canebrake, within close rifle shot of the gate, and seemed numerous and deter- mined. Having a moment’s leisure to look around, they beheld a spectacle, which awakened the most lively inter- est and compassion. A man named Harrison, had been severely wounded, and still lay near the spot where he had fallen, within full view both of the garrison and the enemy. The poor fel- low was, at intervals, endeavoring to crawl in the direc- tion of the fort, and had succeeded in reaching a cluster of bushes, which, however, were too thin to shelter his person from the enemy. His wife and family were in the fort, and in deep distress at his situation. The enemy un- doubtedly forbore to fire upon him, from the supposition that some of the garrison would attempt to save him, in which case, they held themselves in readiness to fire upon them from the canebrake. The case was a very trying one. It seemed impossible to save him without sacrificing the lives of several of the garrison, and their number* already were far too few for an effectual defence, having originally amounted only to fifteen men, three of whom had already been put hors de combat . Yet the spectacle was so moving, and the lamentation of his family so distressing, that it seemed equally impos- sible not to make an effort to relieve him. Logan en- deavored to persuade some of his men to accompany him in a sally, but so evident and appalling was the danger, that all at first refused; one Herculean fellow observing that he was a “ weakly man,” and another declaring that he was sorry for Harrison, “but that the skin was closer ♦han the shirt.” At length, John Martin collected hk* courage, and declared his willingness to accompany Logan, saying, that “ he could only die once, and that he was as ready now as he ever w^oukLbe.” The two men open- ed the gate and started upon their forlorn expedition, Iush, tree, or 122 WESTERN ADVENTURE. tuft of grass within view. At night the enemy drew off, and Crawford’s party slep.t upon their arms upon the field of battle. On the next day the attack was renewed, but at a more respectful distance. The Indians had apparently sustain- ed some loss on the close firing of the preceding evening, and seemed now determined to await the arrival of addi- tional reinforcements. Occasional shots were fired through the day, on both sides, but without much injury to either. As soon as it was dark, the field officers assem- bled in council; and, as the numbers of the enemy were evidently increasing every moment, it was unanimously determined to retreat by night, as rapidly as was consis- tent with order, and the preservation of the wounded. The resolution was quickly announced to the troops, and the necessary dispositions made for carrying it into effect. The outposts were silently withdrawn from the vicinity of the enemy, and as fast as they came in, the troops were formed in three parallel lines, with the wounded borne upon biers, in the center. By nine o’clock at night, all necessary arrangements had been made, and the retreat began in good order Unfortunately, they had scarcely moved a hundred pa ces, when the report of several rifles were heard in the rear, in the direction of the Indian encampment. The troops soon became very unsteady. At length, a sol itary voice, in the front rank, called out, that their de- sign was discovered, and that the Indians would soon be upon them. Nothing more was necessary. The cavalry were instantly broken; and, as usual, each man endeav ored to save himself as he best could. A prodigious uproar ensued, which quickly communicated to the enemy, that the white men had routed themselves, and that they had nothing to do but pick up stragglers. The miser* able wounded, notwithstanding the piercing cries with which they supplicated to be taken with them, were aban doned to the mercy of the enemy, and soon put out of pain. Dr. Knight, the surgeon of the detachment, was in the cear when the flight commenced, but seeing the necessity WILLIAM CRAWFORD* 123 of despatch, he put spurs to his horse and galloped through the wood as fast as the darkness of the night would permit. He had not advanced more than three hundred yards, when he heard the voice of Colonel Crawford, a short distance in front, calling aloud for his son John Crawford, his son-in-law Major Harrison, and his two nephews. Major Rose and William Crawford. Dr. Knight replied in the same loud tone, that he believed the young men were in front. “Is that you, Doctor?” asked Craw- ford, eagerly; for no features could be recognised in the darkness. “Yes, Colonel! I am the hindmost man I be- lieve!” “No, No!” replied Crawford, anxiously, “my son is in the rear yet: I have not been able to hear of him in front! Do not leave me, Doctor, my horse has almost giv en out; I cannot keep up with the troops, and wish a few of my best friends to stay with me !” Knight assured him, that he might rely upon his sup port in any extremity, and drew up his horse by his side. Colonel Crawford still remained upon the same spot, cab- ling loudly for his son, until the last straggler had passed. He then in strong language reprobated the conduct of the militia, in breaking their ranks, and abandoning the woun* ded, but quickly returned to the subject of his son, and ap- peared deeply agitated at the uncertainty of his fate. Perceiving, however, that further delay must terminate in death or captivity, the party set spurs to their horses and followed the route of the troops. Presently an old man and a lad joined them. Crawford eagerly asked if they had seen his son or nephews? They assured him that they had not, upon which he sighed deeply, but made no reply. At this instant, a heavy fire was heard at the distance of a mile in front, accompanied by yells, screams, and all the usual attendants of battle. Not a doubt was enter- tained that the Indians had intercepted the retreat of the main body, and were now engaged with them. Having lost all confidence in his men, Crawford did not choose to unite his fortune to theirs, and changed his course, to the northward, in such a manner as to leave the combatants upon the right. He continued in this direction for nearly an hour, until he supposed himself out of the immediate* 124 WESTERN ADVENTURE. line of the enemy’s operations, when he again changed his course to the eastward, moving as rapidly as possible, with an interval of twenty paces between them, and stear dily regulating their route by the north star. The boy who accompanied them was brisk and active, but the old man constantly lagged behind, and as constantly shouted aloud for them to wait for him. They often remonstrated with him on the impropriety of making so much noise, at a time when all their lives depended upon secrecy and celerity, and he repeatedly promised to do so no more. At length, upon crossing Sandusky creek, the old man found himself once more considerably in the rear, and once more shouted aloud for them to wait, until he could come up. Before they could reply a halloo was heard, in the rear of their left, and apparently not more than ono hundred paces from the spot where the old man stood. Supposing it to be the cry of an Indian, they remained still and silent for several minutes, looking keenly around them in the expectation of beholding an enemy. Every thing, however, continued silent. The old man was heard no more, and whether he escaped, or was killed, could nev- er be ascertained. The party continued their flight until daybreak, when Colonel Crawford’s horse and that of the boy, sunk under their riders, and were abandoned. Continuing their journey on foot, they quickly fell in with Captain Biggs, an expert woodsman and gallant offi- cer, who, in the universal scattering, had generously brought off a wounded officer, Lieutenant Ashley, upon his own horse, and was now composedly walking by his side, with a rifle in his hand and a knapsack upon his shoulders. This casual meeting was gratifying to both parties, and they continued their journey with renewed spirits. At three o’clock in the afternoon a heavy rain fell, and compelled them to encamp. A temporary shelter was quickly formed by barking several trees, after the manner of the Indians, and spreading the bark over poles so as to form a roof. A fire was then kindled, and the rain continued to pour dowm in torrents. They remained here through the night, without any accident. Continuing their route on the following morning, at th* WItXIAM CRAWFORD. distance of three miles from the camp, they found a deer, which had recently been killed and skinned. The meat was neatly sliced and bundled up in the skin — and a toma- hawk lay near — giving room for suspicion that Indians ' were in the neighborhood. As the whole party had fast- ed for thirty six hours, this was a very acceptable treat, and lifting the skin, with the meat enclosed from the ground, they carried it with them until they had leisure to cook it. Having advanced a mile further, they observed a smoke in the woods, before them. The party instantly | halted, w'hile Colonel Crawford and Dr. Knight advanced to recon noiter. Cautiously approaching the fire, they found it burning brightly, but abandoned, from which they inferred I that a party had encamped there the preceding night, and, had retired a few minutes before their approach. Having carefully examined the bushes around, and die- i covered no Indian sign, they directed their friends in the rear to come up, and quickly set about preparing break - fast. In a few minutes they observed a white man, skulk ing in, the rear, examining the trail and apparently very shy of approaching them. Calling out to him in a friend-. Iy tone, they invited him to approach without fear, assuring him that they were countrymen and friends. The man instantly complied,, and informed them that he had killed the deer which they were cooking, but hearing them ap- proach, he had taken them for enemies, and had fled into the bushes for concealment. Highly pleased at this further accession to their strength, the party breakfasted heartily upon the deer, and confirmed their march. By noon, they had reached the path by which the army had marched a few, days before, in their advance upon the Indian towns, and some discussion took place as to the propriety of taking that road homeward. Biggs and the doctor strenuously insisted upon continuing their course through the woods, and avoiding, all paths, but Crawford overruled them, assuring them that the Indians would not urge the pursuit beyond the plains,, which were already far behind. Unfortunately, the colonel prevailed; and abandoning their due eastern course, the party pursued 126 WESTERN ADVENTURE. the beaten path. Crawford and Knight moved one hurt- dred and fifty yards in front, Biggs and his wounded friend Ashley were in the center, both on horseback, the doctor having lent Biggs his horse, and the two men on foot brought up the rear. They soon had reason to repent their temerity. Scarce- ly had they advanced a mile, when several Indians sprung up within twenty yards of Knight and Crawford, present- ed their guns and in good English ordered them to stop. Knight instantly sprung behind a large black oak, cocked his gun and began to take aim at the foremost. Crawford, however, did not attempt to conceal himself — but calling hastily to Knight, ordered him twice not to fire. Instantly the Indian, at whom Knight had taken aim, ran up to the colonel with every demonstration of friendship, shook his hand cordially, and asked him how he did. Kuight still maintaining a hostile attitude behind the tree, Crawford called to him again, and ordered him to put down his gun, which the doctor very reluctantly obeyed. Biggs and Ashley, seeing the condition of their friends, halted, while the two men in the rear very prudently took to their heels and escaped. One of the Indians then told Crawford to order Biggs to come up and surrender or they would kill him. The colonel complied, but Biggs, feeling no inclination to obey his commander in the present in- stance, very coolly cocked his rifle, took deliberate aim at one of the Indians, and fired, although without effect. H® and Ashley then put spurs to their horses and for the time escaped. The two prisoners were then taken to the In- dAi camp, which stood within a few miles of the place where they were taken; and on the next evening, five Delawares came in with the scalps and horses of Biggs and Ashley, who it appeared, had returned to the road, and were intercepted a few miles further on. On the morning, which was the tenth of June, Craw- ford and Knight, together with nine more prisoners, were conducted by their captors, seventeen in number, to the old town of Sandusky, about thirty-three miles distant. The main body halted at night, within eight miles of the vil- lage, but as Colonel Crawford expressed great anxiety to. WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 127 speak with Simon Girty, who was then at Sandusky, he was permitted to go on that evening, under the care of two Indians. On Tuesday morning, the 11th of June, Colonel Crawford was brought back from Sandusky on purpose to march into town with the other prisoners. Knight eagerly accosted him, and asked if he had seen Girty ? The colonel replied in the affirmative; and added, that Girty had promised to use his utmost influence for his (the colonel’s) safety, but was fearful of the consequences, as the Indians generally, and particularly Captain Pipe, one of the Delaware chiefs, were much incensed against the prisoners, and were endeavoring to have them all burned. The colonel added, that he had heard of his son- in-law, Colonel Harrison, and his nephew, William Craw- ford, both of whom had been taken by the Shawnees, and admitted to mercy. Shortly after this communication, their capital enemy, Captain Pipe appeared. His appear- ance was by no means unprepossessing, and he exhibited none of the ferocity, which Knight, from Girty’s account, had been led to expect. On the contrary, his manners were bland and his lan- guage flattering. But one ominous circumstance attend- ed his visit. With his own hands, he painted every pris- oner black! While in the act of painting the doctor, he was as polite as a French valet,, assuring him that he should soon go to the Shavvnee town and see his friends; and while painting the colonel, he told him that his head should be snaved, i. e., he should be adopted, as soon as he arrived at the Wyandott town. As soon as ihe pris- oners were pointed, they were conducted towards the town, Captain Pipe walking bv the side of Crawford, and treating him with the utmost kindness, while the other prisoners, with the exception of Dr. Knight, were pushed on ahead of him. As they advanced, they were shocked at observing the bodies of four of their friends,, who had just left them,, lying near the path, tomahawked and scalped, with an in- terval of nearly a mile between each. They had evi- dently perished in running the gauntlet. This spectacle- 128 WESTERN ADVENTURE. was regarded as a sad presage of their own fate. In w short time they overtook the five prisoners who remained alive. They were seated on the ground, and appeared much dejected. Nearly seventy squaws and Indian boys surrounded them, menacing them with knives and toma- hawks, and exhausting upon them every abusive epithet which their language afforded. Crawford and Knight were compelled tositdown apart from the rest, and immediately af- terwards, the doctor was given to a Shawnee warrior, to be conducted to their town, while the colonel remained sta- tionary. The boys and squaws then fell upon the other prisoners, and tomahawked them in a moment. Among them was Captain McKinley, who had served with reputation through- out the revolutionary war until the capture of Cornwallis. An old withered hag approached him, brandishing a long knife, and seizing him by the hair, instantly cut off his head and kicked it near the spot where Crawford sat in mo- mentary expectation of a similar fate. Another destiny, however, was reserved for him. After having sufficiently exhausted their rage upon the lifeless bodies of the five prisoners, the whole party started up r and driving Craw- ford before them, marched towards the village. Presently, Girty appeared on horseback, coming fronr Sandusky. He stopped for a few moments, and spoke Crawford, then passing to the rear of the party, addressed Knight: “Is this the doctor??’ inquired he, with an in- sulting smile. “-Yes!? Mr. Girty, I am glad to see you!” replied poor Knight, advancing towards him, and anx- iously extending his hand.* But Girty cursed him in a savage tone, ordered him to be gone, and not to suppose that he would give his hand to such a rascal. Upon this, the Shawnee warrior who had him in custody, drag ged him along by a rope. Girty followed on horseback, and informed him that he was to go to Chillicothe. Pres- ently they came to a spot where there was a large fire, around which about thirty warriors, and more than double that number of boys and squaws were collected. As soon as the colonel arrived, they surrounded him, stripped him naked, and compelled him to sit on the gro«n«l WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 129 near the fire. They then fell upon him, and beat him -severely with sticks and their fists. In a few minutes a large stake was fixed in the ground, and piles of hickory poles, rather thicker than a man’s thumb, and about twelve feet in length, were spread around it. Colonel Craw- ford’s hands were then tied behind his back; a strong rope was produced, one end of which was fastened to the ligature between his wrists, and the other tied to the bot- tom of the stake. The rope was long enough to permit him to walk around the stake several times and then return. Fire was then applied to the hickory poles, which . lay in piles at the distance of six or seven yaads from the stake. The colonel, observing these terrible preparations, called to Girty, who sat on horseback, at the distance of a few yards from the fire, and asked if the Indians were going to burn him. Girty very coolly replied in the affirmative. The colonel heard tha intelligence with firm- ness, merely observing, that he would bear it with forti- tude. When the hickory poles had been burnt asunder in the middle, Captain Pipe arose and addressed the crowd, in a tone of great energy, and with animated gestures, pointing frequently to the colonel, who regarded him with an appearance of unruffled composure. As soon as he had ended, a loud whoop burst from the assembled throng, and they all rushed at once upon the unfortunate Craw- ford. For several seconds, the crowd was so great around him, that Knight could not see what they were doing; but in a short time, they had dispersed sufficiently to . give him a view of the colonel. His ears had been cut off, and the blood was streaming down each side of his face. A terrible scene of torture , now commenced. The warriors shot charges of powder into his naked body, commencing with the calves of his legs, and continuing to his neck. The boys snatched the burning hickory poles and applied them to his flesh. As fast as he ran around the stake, to avoid one party of tor mentors, he was promptly met at every turn by others, with burning poles, red hot irons, and rifles loaded with powder only; so that in a few minutes nearly one hundred charges of powder had been shot into his body, which had 130 WESTERN ADVENTURE. become black and blistered in a dreadful manner. The squaws would take up a quantity of coals and hot ashes, and throw them upon his body, so that in a few minutes he had nothing but fire to walk upon. In the extremity of his agony, the unhappy colonel called aloud upon Girty, in tones which rang through Knight’s brain with maddening effect: “ Girty! Girty 1! shoot me through the heart!l Quick! quick!! Do not refuse me!!” u Don’t you see I have no gun, colonel V* replied the monster, bursting into a loud laugh, and then turning to an Indian beside him, he uttered some brutal jests upon the naked and miserable appearance of the prisoner. While this awful scene w T as being acted, Girty rode up to the spot where Dr. Knight stood, and told him that he now had a foretaste of what was in reserve for him at the Shawnee towns. He swore that he need not expect to escape death, but should suffer it in all the extremity of torture! Knight, whose mind was deeply agitated at the sight of the fearful scene before him, took no notice of Girty, but preserved an impenetrable silence. Girty, after coldly contemplating the colonePs sufferings for a few moments, turned again to Knight, and indulged in a bitte invective against a certain Colonel Gibson, from whom he said, he had received deep injury; and dwelt upon the delight with which he would see him undergo such tor- tures as those which Crawford was then suffering. He observed, in a taunting tone, that most of the prisoners had said, that the w r hite people would not injure him, if the chance of war was to throw him into their power; but that for his own part, he should be loath to try the experi- ment. “I think, (added he w T ith a laugh,) that they would roast me alive, with more pleasure than those red fellows are now broiling the colonel ! What is your opinion, doc- tor? Do you think they would be glad to see me?” Still Knight made no answer, and in a few minutes Girty rejoined the Indians. The terrible scene had now lasted more than two hours, and Crawford had become much exhausted. He walked slowly around the stake, spoke in a low tone, and ear- WifecfAM CRAWFORD. 131 nestly besought God to look with compassion upon him, and pardon his sins. His nerves had lost much of their sensibility, and he no longer shrunk from the firebrands with which they incessantly touched him. At length he sunk in a fainting fit upon his face, and lay motionless. Instantly an Indian sprung upon his back, knelt lightly upon one knee, made a circular incision with his knife upon the crown of his head, and clapping the knife be- tween his teeth, tore the scalp off with both hands. Scarcely had this been done, when a withered hag ap- proached with a board full of burning embers, and poured them upon the crown of his head, now laid bare to the bone. The colonel groaned deeply, arose, and again walked slowly around the stake! But why continue a description so horrible? Nature at length could endure no more, and at a late hour in the night, he was released by death from the hands of his tormentors. At sun set, Dr. Knight was removed from the ground, and taken to the house of Captain Pipe, where, after having been securely bound, he was permitted to sleep unmolested. On the next morning, the Indian fellow to whose care he had been committed, unbound him, again painted him black, and told him he must instantly march off for the Shawnee village. The doctor was a small, weak man, and had sunk much under the hardship to which he had been exposed; and this, probably, was the cause of his having been committed unbound to the guar dianship of a single Indian. They quickly left Sandusky, and in a few minutes passed by the spot where Crawford had been tortured. His flesh had been entirely con- sumed, and his bones, half burnt and blackened by the Are, lay scattered around the stake. The Indian fellow who guarded him, uttered the scalp halloo, as he passed the spot, and insultingly told Knight, that “these were the bones of his Big Captain!” Knight was on foot, the Indian mounted on a pony and well armed, yet the doctor determined to effect his escape, or compel his enemy, to shoot him dead upon the spot. The awful torture which Crawford had undergone, had left a deep impression upon his mind. The savage inti - WESTERN ADVENTURE. -m mation of Girty was not forgotten.; and he regarded death, by shooting, as a luxury compared with the pro- tracted agony of the stake. Anxious, however, to lull the* suspicious temper of the Indian, who appeared to be extremely vigilant, he spoke to him in a cheerful, confi« dent Hone, and pretended to be entirely ignorant of the fate which awaited him at the Shawnee town. He foun*d the fellow very sociable, and apparently as simple as he could wish. Upon his asking if they were not to live together in the same cabin, like brothers, as soon as they arrived at the end of their journey, the Indian seemed pleased, and replied, “yes.” He then asked the doctor* if he could make a wigwam ? The doctor boldly asserted, that he was a capital workman in wood, and could build a wigwam, to whifih teeir most spacious council houses were mere hovels. This assertion evidently elevated him in the Indian’s esteem, and they continued to chat in a very friendly manner, each probably thinking that he had made a dupe of the other. After travelling about twenty-five miles, they encamped for the night, when Knight permitted himself to be bound. The Indian then informed him, that they would reach the Shawnee village about the middle of the next day, and seem- ed to compose himself to rest. Knight frequently attempt ed to untie himself, but was as often frustrated by the incessant vigilance of the Indian, whose dark eyes were rolling around him throughout the whole night. At day light, the Indian arose and unbound his prisoner, who in- stantly determined to attempt an escape without further delay. His conductor did not immediately leave the spot, but began to rekindle their fire which had burned low, and employed himself diligently in giving battle to the myriads of gnats, that swarmed around him, and fastened upon his naked body with high relish. Knight seeing him rub his back with great energy, muttering petulantly in the Indian tongue, asked if he should make a smoke behind hirft, in order to drive the gnats away. The Indian teld him to do so, and Knight arising from his seat, took the end of a dogwood fork about eighteen inches length, and putting a coal of fire between- it and anoth- WILLIAM CRAWFORD. 133 *r stick, went 'behind the Indian as if to kindle a fire. Gently laying down the coal, he paused a moment to col- lect his strength, and then struck the Indian a furious blow upon the back of the head, with the dogwood stick. The fellow stumbled forward, and fell with his hands in the fire, but instantly rising again, ran off with great rapid- ity, howling most dismally. Knight instantly seized the rifle which his enemy had abandoned and pursued him, intending to shoot him dead on the spot, and thus pre- vent pursuit; but in drawing back the cock of the gun too violently, he injured it so&nuch that it would not go off; and the Indian frightened out of his wits, and leaping and dodging with the activity of a wild cat, at length effected his escape. On the same day about noon, as Knight afterwards learned from a prisoner who effected his escape, the Indi- an arrived at the Shawnee village, with his head dreadful- ly cut and his legs torn by the briers. He proved to be a happy mixture of the braggadocio and coward, and trea- ted his fellows with a magnificent description of his con test with Knight, whom he represented as a giant in stature, (five feet seven inches!) and a buffalo in strength and fierceness. He said that Knight prevailed upon him to untie him, and that while they were conversing like bro- thers, and while he himself was suspecting no harm, his prisoner suddenly seized a dogwood sapling, and belabored him, now on this side of his head, now on the other, (here his gestures w r ere very lively,) until he was scarcely able to stand! That, nevertheless, he made a manful resistance, and stabbed his gigantic antagonist twice, once in the back, and once in the belly, but seeing that his knife made no impression upon the strength of the prisoner, he was at length compelled to leave him, satisfied that the wounds which he had inflicted must at length prove mor- tal. The Indians were much diverted at his account of the affair, and laughed loud and long, evidently not believ^ ing a syllable of the tale — at least so far as his own prowess was concerned. In the mean time, Knight finding it useless to pursuo (the Indian, to w 7 horn terror had lent wings, hastily return- 134 WESTERN ADVENTURE. ed to the fire, and taking the Indian’s blanket, moccasins, bullet bag and powder horn, lost no time in moving ofl^ directing his course towards the north-east. About half an hour by sun he came to the plains already mentioned, which were about sixteen miles wide. Not choosing to cross them by daylight, he lay down in the high grass until dark, then guided by the north star, he crossed them rapidly, and before daylight had reached the woods on the other side. Without halting for a moment, he continued his march until late in the afternoon, crossing nearly at right angles the path by which the troops had advanced, and moving steadily to the northward, with the hope of avoid- ing the enemy who might still be lingering upon the rear of the troops. In the evening he felt very faint and hungry,’ having tasted nothing for three days, and very little since his captivity. Wild gooseberries grew very abundantly in the woods, but being still green, they required mastication, which he was unable to perform, his jaws having been much injured by a blow r from the back of a tomahawk There was a weed, however, which grew in the woods the juice of which was grateful to the palate, and nour- ishing to the body. - Of this he sucked plentifully, and finding himself much refreshed, was enabled to continue j iiis journey. Supposing that he had now advanced suffi- ciently to the northw T ard to baffle his pursuers, he changed his course and steered due east. Wishing, if possible, to procure some animal food, he often attempted to rectify the lock of his gun, supposing that it was only wood-bound, but having no knife, he was unable to unscrew it, and was at length reluctantly com- pelled to throw it away as a useless burden. His jaw rapidly recovered, and he was enabled to chew green gooseberries, upon which, together with two young un- fledged black birds, and one land terrapin, (both devoured raw,) he managed to subsist for twenty-one days. He gwam the Muskingum a few miles below fort Lawrence, and crossing all paths, directed his steps to the Ohio river. He struck it at a few miles below fort McIntosh JOHN SLOVER. 1 35 on the evening of the twenty-first day, and on the morning of the twenty-second reached the fort in safety. Such was the lamentable expedition of Colonel Craw- ford, rashly undertaken, injudiciously prosecuted, and ter- minating with almost unprecedented calamity. The insubordinate spirit of the men, together with the inade- quacy of the force, were the great causes of the failure. The first was incident to the nature of the force; but the second might have been remedied by a little consideration. Repeated disasters, however, were necessary to convince the Americans of the necessity of employing a sufficient force; and it was not until they had suffered by the expe- rience of ten more years, that this w r as at length done. The defeat of Braddock had teen bloody, but not disgrace- ful. Officers and soldiers died in tattle, and with arms in their hands. Not a man offered to leave the ground until a retreat was ordered. Crawford, on the contrary, per- ished miserably at the stake, as did most of his men. They were taken in detail, skulking through the woods, to avoid an enemy, w horn they might have vanquished by union, steadiness, and courage. It stands upon record as one of the most calamitous and disgraceful expeditions w r hich has ever stained the American arms. CHAPTER VI. During the old French war, John Slover, a native of Virginia, was taken by a party of Miami Indians, on the banks of White river, and immediately conducted to the Indian town of Sandusky. Here he resided from his eighth to his twentieth year. At the treaty of Pittsburgh, in the fall of 1773, he came in with the Shawnee nation, and accidentally meeting with some of his relations, ba was recognised and earnestly exhorted to relinquish his connection with the Indians, and return to his friends. Ho yielded with some reluctance, having become strongly attached to a savage life; and having probably but littla 136 WESTERN ADVENTURE. relish for labor on a farm, after the easy life which he had led in Ohio, he enlisted in the continental army, and serv- ed two campaigns with credit, as a sharp shooter. Hav- ing been properly discharged, he settled in Westmoreland county, and when the unfortunate expedition of Craw'ford was set on foot, was strongly urged to attend in the capa- city of a guide. Conquering the distaste which he- naturally felt, at the idea of conducting a hostile army against his former friends, he yielded to the persuasion of his neighbors, and shared in all the dangers of the army. At the moment when the rout took place, Slover was in the immediate neighborhood of the enemy, attending to a number of horses that were grazing on the plain. But the uproar in front, occasioned by the tumultuous flight of more than four hundred men, soon warned him of his danger. He hastily mounted the best horse within reach, and put him to his utmost speed He soon overtook the main body, and was among the fore* most when the Indians attempted to intercept them. A deep bog crossed the line of retreat, and occasioned im- mense confusion. Those who first reached it, plunged in without hesila lion, but after struggling for a few minutes, their horses stuck fast,, and were necessarily abandoned. The dark- ness of the night, and the hurry of the retreat, prevented the rear from profiting by the misfortune of the van. Horse- man after horseman plunged madly into the swamp, and in a few minutes, a scene which baffles all attempt at de- scription took place. Not one tenth part of the horses were able to struggle through. Their riders dismounted and endeavored, on foot, to reach the opposite side. The Indians pressed upon them, pouring an incessant fire* upon the mass of fugitives, some of whom were completely mired, and sunk gradually to the chin, in which condition they remained until the following morning; others, with great difficulty, effected a passage, and continued theii flight on foot. Slover, having struggled for several minutes to disen- gage his horse, was at length compelled to abandon him, -and wade through the morass as he best could, on foot. JOHPi SLOVER, 137 After incredible fatigue and danger, he at length reached the firm ground, covered with mud, and frightened, not a little at hearing the yells of the enemy immediately be- hind him, and upon each flank, many of them having; cros- sed a few hundred yards above, where the mud was not so deep. In a few minutes he overtook a party of six men on foot, having been compelled like himself to aban- don their horses, and two of them having even lost their guns. Finding themselves hard pressed by the enem)> who urged the pursuit with great keenness, they changed their course from an eastern to a western direction, almost turning" upon their own trail, and bending their steps towards Detroit. In a short time they struck the same swamp r although considerably higher up, and were com- pelled to wait until daylight in order to find their way across. Having succeeded at length, in reaching the op- posite sid@ r they travelled throughout the day, directly towards the Shawnee towns. This, as the event proved, was finessing rather too much. They would certainly avoid their pursuers, but they were plunging into the midst of the Indian settlements, and must expect to meet with roving bands of Indians in every direction. At ten o’clock, they halted for breakfast, having eaten nothing for two days. While busily engaged with their ration of cold pork and corn bread, they were alarmed by hearing a halloo immediately behind them, which was instantly answered by two others upon each flank. Has- tily dropping their wallets, they fled into the grass, and falling upon their faces, awaited with beating hearts the approach of the enemy. Presently, seven or eight Indi- ans appeared, talking and laughing in high spirits, evident- ly ignorant of the presence of the fugitives. In a few minutes they had passed, and the party cautiously returned to their wallets. The fright, however, had completely spoiled their appetites, and hastily gathering up the rem- nant of their provisions, they continued their journey, changing their course a little to the north, in order to avoid the party who had just passed. By twelve o’clock, they reached a large prairie, which it was necessary for them to cross, or return upon their 138 WESTERN ADVENTURE. own footsteps. In the prairie they would be much expo- sed, as an enemy could see them at a vast distance, but to return to the spot from which they had started wa9 60 melancholy an alternative, that after a short and anxious consultation, it was determined at all risk to proceed They accordingly entered the vast plain, which stretched for many miles before them, affording no means of conceal- ment but the grass, and advanced rapidly but cautiously, until about one o’clock, when the man in front, called their attention to a number of moving objects ahead, which seemed to approach them. The grass was high, and the objects indistinct. They might be Indians, or elk, or buffalo; but whoever or whatever they were, it would be as well perhaps not to await their coming. They accordingly crawled aside, and again lay down in the grass, occasionally lifting their heads in order to reconnoitre the strangers. As they drew near, they perceived them to be a party of Indians, but from the loose and straggling manner in which they walked, and the loudness of their voices, they were satis- fied that they had not been detected. The Indians quickly passed them and disappeared in the grass. The party then arose and continued their journey, looking keenly around them, in hourly expectation of another party of the enemy. In the evening a heavy rain fell, the coldest that they had ever felt, and from w T hich it was impossible to find a shelter. Drenched to the skin and shivering with cold,, they waded on through the grass until near sunset, when to their great joy they saw a deep forest immediately in front, where they could obtain shelter as well from the storm as the enemy. The rain, however, which had pour- ed in torrents while they were exposed to it, ceased at once as soon as they had reached a shelter. Considering this a good omen, they encamped for the night, and on the fol- lowing morning, recommenced their journey with renewed spirits. They were much delayed, however, by the infir- mity of two of their men, one of whom had burnt his foot severely, and the other’s knees were swollen with the rheumatism* JOHN SLOVER. 189 The rheumatic traveller, at length, fell considerably behind. The party halted, hallooed for him, and whistled ‘joudly upon their chargers, but in vain. They saw him no more on their march, although he afterwards reached Wheeling in safety, while his stronger companions, as we shall quickly see, were not so fortunate. They had now again shifted their course, and were marching in a straight direction towards Pittsburgh. They had passed over the most dangerous part of the road, and had, thus far, got the first view of every enemy who appeared. On the morning of the third day, however, a party of Indians, who had secretly dogged them from the prairie, (through which their trail had been broad and obvious,) had now outstripped them, and lay in ambush on their road. The first intimation which Slover had of their existence, was a close discharge of rifles, which killed two of their party. The four survivers instantly ran to the trees, but two of their guns had been left in the swamp, so that two only remained fit for service. Slover, whose gun was in good order, took aim at the foremost Indian, who, raising his hand warningly, told him not to fire, and he should be treated kindly. Slover and his two unarmed companions instantly surrendered, but John Paul, a youth, refused to be included in the capitulation, and being equally bold and active, completely baffled his pur- suers and came safely into Wheeling. One of the Indians, instantly recognised Slover, having been present at his capture many years before, and hav- ing afterwards lived with him at Sandusky. He called him by his Indian name, (Mannuchcothe,) and reproached him indignantly for bearing arms against his brothers Slover was somewhat confused at the charge, fearing that his recognition would be fatal to him when he should reach the Indian towns. They were taken back to the prairie, where the Indians had left their horses, and each mounting a horse, they moved rapidly towards the nearest town, which proved to be Waughcotomoco, the theater of Kenton’s adventure, four years before. Upon ap- proaching the town, the Indians, who had heretofore been very kind to them,, suddenly began to look, sow* 140 WESTERN ADVENTURE*. and put themselves into a passion by dwelling upon their injuries. Presently, as usual, the squaws, boys, &c. came out, and the usual scene commenced. They soon became tired of abusing and switching them, and having selected the oldest of the three, they blacked his face with coal and water. The poor fellow was much agitated, and cried bitterly, frequently asking Slover if they were not going to bum him. The Indians, in their own language, hastily forbid Slover to answer him, and coming up to their intended victim, patted him upon the back, and with many honeyed epithets, assured him that they would not hurt him. They then marched on to the large town, about two miles beyond the small one, (both bearing the same name,) having as usual, sent a runner in advance to inform the inhabitants of their approach. The whole village presently flocked out,. and a row was formed for the gauntlet. The man who had been blacked attracted so much attention, that Slover and his companion scarcely received a blow. The former preceded them by twenty yards, and was furiously attacked by every indi- vidual. Loads of powder were shot into his body, deep wounds were inflicted with knives and tomahawks, and. sand was thrown into his eyes, and he was several times knocked down by cudgels. Having heard that he would be safe on reaching the council house, he forced his way with gigantic strength, through all opposition, and grasped the post with both hands, his body burnt with powder and covered with blood. He was furiously torn from his place of refuge, how- ever, and thrust back among his enemies, when finding that they would give him no quarter, he returned their blows with a fury equal to their own, crying piteously the whole time, and frequently endeavoring to wrest a tomahawk from his enemies. This singular scene was continued for nearly half an hour, when the prisoner was at length beaten to death. Slover and his companion reached the post in safety, and were silent spectators of the fate of their friend. As soon as he was dead, the Indians cut up his body, and stuck the head and quarters upon poles in the center of the town. JOHN SLOVER. 141 On the same evening, he beheld the dead bodies of young Crawford and Colonel Harrison, and a third whom he supposed to be Colonel McCleland, the second in com- mand. Their bodies were black and mangled, like that of their unfortunate companion, having been beaten to death a few hours before their arrival. As he passed by the bodies, the Indians smiled maliciously, and asked if he knew them? He mentioned their names, upon which they nodded with much satisfaction. In the evening all the dead bodies were dragged beyond the limits of the town, and abandoned to the dogs and wolves. In twen- ty-four hours, their bones only were to be seen. On the following morning, . Slover’s only surviving companion was marched off to a neighboring town, and never heard of afterwards. Slover, himself, was sum- moned in the evening to attend at the council house, and give an account of his conduct. Heretofore he had gen- erally been treated with kindness, and on the first day of the council, he saw no symptoms of a disposition to put him to death. But on the second day, James Girty arri- ved from Crawford’s execution, and instantly threw the whole weight of his influence into the scale against the prisoner. He dwelt with much emphasis upon the ingrat- itude of Slover, in serving as a spy against those who had formerly treated him with such distinguished kind- ness, and scrupled not to affirm, that in a confidential conversation which he had had with the prisoner, on that morning, he had asked him « how he would like to live again with his old friends?” — Upon which Slover had laughed, and replied, that « he would stay until he had an opportunity of taking a scalp, and would then steal a horse and return to the whites.” Slover knew many of his judges by name, spoke their language fluently, and made a vigorous defence. He said, that during the whole twelve years of his former captivity among them, he had given ample proofs of his fidelity to the Indians. That, although he had a thousand opportunities, he had never once attempted an escape, and there were several now present who could testify that, at the treaty of Fort Pitt, he had left thei* 'will 142 WESTERN ADVENTURE. luctanse in compliance with the earnest solicitations of hfe family. That he had then taken leave of them publicly, in broad daylight, in time of profound peace, and with their full approbation. That he then had no idea of the existence of a future war; but when war came, it was his duty to accompany his countrymen to the field against the Indians, precisely as he would have accompanied the Indians formerly against the whites. That it was the undoubted duty of every warrior to serve his country, without regard to his own private feelings of attachment; that he had done so; and if the Indians thought it worthy of death, they could inflict the penalty upon him ! — ha was alone, and in their power. That Mr. Girty ’s asser* tion was positively false: he had not exchanged a syllable with him, beyond a brief and cold salutation, when they had met in the morning, not to, mention the absurdity of supposing that if he had really entertained such an idea, he would have communicated it to Girty! — the sworn enemy of the whites, and as he believed* his own per* sonal enemy. This vigorous and natural defence, seemed to make some impression upon his enemies. Girty ’s assertion was so strikingly improbable, that very few gave it credii, and some of Slover’s old friends exerted themselves ac- tively in his behalf. The council suspended their decis- ion for several days, and in the mean time, endeavored to gain information from him, as to the present condition of Virginia. Slover informed them that Cornwallis had been captured, together with his whole army, which as- tonished them much, and compelled them to utter some deep guttural interjections. But Girty and McKey be- came very angry, swore that it was a lie, and renewed their exertions with increased ardor, to have him brought to the stake. While his trial was pending, he was un- bound, and unguarded, was invited to all their dances* and suffered to reside as an inmate in the cabin of an old squaw, who treated him with great affection. Girty was blustering, ferocious, and vulgar in his mai* *&ers, but McKey was silent, grave, and stern, never ^addressing Slover, and seldom speaking in council* soim SLOVER. 4£ved apart from the rest in a handsome house, built of white-oak logs, elegantly hewed, and neatly covered with shingles. His hatred to the whites was deep and invet- erate, and his influence was constantly exerted against every prisoner who came before him. They spared no pains in endeavoring to entrap Slover into some unguarded words, which might injure him with the Indians. A white man one morning asked Slover to walk out with him, as he had something of importance to communicate. As soon as they had gained the fields, the fellow halted, and in a confidential tcne, informed Slover that he had two brothers living upon the banks of the Potomac, whom he was desirous of seeing again ; that the Indians had given him his life, for the present, hut they were such capricious devils, that there was no confidence to be placed in them, and he feit disposed to escape, while it was in his power, if Slover would accompany him. Slo- wer heard him coldly, and with an appearance of great surprise, blamed him for entertaining so rash a project, and assured him that Jie was determined to encounter no -such risk. The emissary of Girty and McKey returned instantly to the council, and reported .that Slover had ea- .gerly entered, into the project, and was desirous of es- caping that evening. Two days afterwards, a very large council was held, being composed of warriors from the Shawnee, Delaware., -Wyandott, Chippewa, and Mingo tribes. Two Indians .came to the wigwam, in order to conduct Slover once more before his judges, but the old squaw concealed him beneath a large bear skin, and fell upon the two messen- gers so fiercely with her tongue, that they were com- pelled to retreat with some precipitation. This zeal xn his service, on the part of ihe old squaw, was rather alarming than gratifying to Slover, for he rightly conjec- tured that something evil was brewing, which he knew that she would be unable to avert. He was not Jong in suspense. Within two hours, Girty came into the hut, followed by more than forty warriors, and seizing 'Slover v stripped him naked, bound his hands behind him, painted t jtes body blacky and bore . him off with , great 144 WESTERN ADVENTURE. Girty tsxulted greatly in the success of his efforts, and oaded him with curses and reproaches, assuring him that lie would now get what he had long deserved. The prisoner was borne off to a town at the distance ff five miles from Waughcotomoco, where he was met, as usual, by all the inhabitants, and beaten in the ordinary manner for one hour. They then carried him to another little village about two miles distant, where a stake and hickory poles had been prepared, in order to burn him that evening. The scene of his intended execution was the council house, part of which was covered with shin- gles, and the remainder entirely open at top, and very slightly boarded at the sides. In the open space, a pole had been sunk in the ground, and the faggots collected. Slover was dragged to the stake, his hands bound behind him, and then fastened to the pole as in Crawford’s case. Fire was quickly applied to the faggots, which began to blaze briskly. An orator then, as usual, addressed the assembly, in order to inflame their passions to the proper height. Slover seeing his fate inevitable, rallied his courage, and prepared to endure it with firmness. For the last half hour the wind had been high, but the clouds were light, and appeared drifting rapidly away. While the oiator was speaking, however, the wind suddenly lulled, and a heavy shower of rain fell which instantly extinguished the fire, and drenched the prisoner and his enemies to the skin. Poor Slover, who had been making preparations to battle with fire, was astonished at finding himself deluged all at once with so different an element, and the enemy seemed no less so. They instantly ran under the covered part of the house, and left the prisoner to take the rain freely, assuring him from time to time, that he should be burned on the following morning. As soon as the rain ceased, they again surrounded him, dancing around the stake, kicking him severely, and striking him with sticks, until eleven o’clock at night. A tall young chief named « Half Moon,” then stooped down and asked the prisoner if “ he was not sleepy?” Slover, somewhat astonished at such a question, and at such a time, replied in the affirmative. Half Moon then untied JOHI* SLOVER. 145 him, conducted him into a strong block house, pinioned his arms until the buffalo tug was buried in the flesh, and then passing another thong around his neck, and tying the other end to one of the beams of the house, left him under a strong guard, exhorting him to sleep soundly, foi that he must “ eat fire in the morning.” The prisoner, on the contrary, never closed his eyes awaiting anxiously until his guard should fall asleep They showed, however, no inclination to indulge him. Two of them lay down a little after midnight, but the third sat up talking and smoking until nearly daylight. He endeavored to entertain Slover, by speculations upon his (Slover’s) ability to bear pain, handling the painful subject with the zest of an amateur, and recounting to the prisoner, the particulars of many exhibitions of the game kind which he had witnessed. He dwelt upon the entertainment which he had no doubt Slover would afford, exhorting him to bear it like a man, and not forget that he had once been an Indian himself. Upon this torturing subject, he talked, and smoked, and talked again, until the prisoner’s nerves tingled, as if the hot irons were ac- tually hissing against his flesh. At length the tedious old man’s head sunk gradually upon his breast, and Slover heard him snoring loudly. He paused a few moments, listening intently. His heart beat so strongly, that he was fearful lest the Indians should hear it, and arrest him in his last effort to escape. They did not stir, however, and with trembling hands he endeavored to slip the cords from his arms over his wrists. In this he succeeded without much difficulty, but the thong around his neck was more obstinate. He attempted to gnaw it in two, but it was as thick as his thumb and as hard as iron, being made of a seasoned buffalo’s hide. Daylight was faintly breaking in the east, and he expect- ed every moment, that his tormentors would summon him to the stake. In the agony and earnestness of his feelings, the sweat rolled in big drops down his forehead, and the quickness of his breathing awakened the old man. Slover lay still, fearful of being detected, and kept his arms under his back. The old Indian yawned, stretched WESTERN ADVENTURE* *46 himself, stirred the fire, and then lay down again, and began to snore as loudly as ever. Now was the time or never! 1 He seized the rope with both hands and giving it several quick jerks, could scarcely believe his senses, when he saw the knot come untied, and felt himself at liberty. He arose lightly, stepped silently over tho bodies of the sleeping Indians, and in a moment stood in the open air. Day was just breaking — and the inhabit ants of the village had not yet arisen. He looked around for a moment to see whether he was observed, and then ran hastily into a cornfield, in order to conceal himself. On the road he had nearly stumbled upon a squaw and several children, who were asleep under a tree. Hastily avoiding them, he ran through the cornfield, and observing a number of horses on the other side, he paused a moment, untied the cord, which still confined his right arm, and hastily fitting it into a halter, approach- ed a fine strong colt, about four years old, that fortunately proved as gentle as he could wish. Fancying that he heard a door open behind him, he sprung upon his back as lightly as a squirrel, although every limb was bruised and swollen, by the severe beating of the preceding night, and as the woods were open and the ground level, he put his horse to his utmost speed and was soon out of sight Confident that pursuit would not be delayed more than fifteen minutes, he never slackened his speed until about ten o’clock in the day, when he reached the Scioto, at a point fully fifty miles distant from the village which ha had left at daylight. He here paused a moment, and allowed the noble ani- mal, who had borne him so gallantly, to breathe for a few minutes. Fearing, however, that the enemy had pursued him with the same mad violence, he quickly mounted hi« horse again, and plunged into the Scioto, which was now swollen by the recent rains. His horse stemmed the cur- rent handsomely, but began to fail in ascending th« opposite bank. He still, however, urged him to full speed, and by three o’clock had left the Scioto more than twenty miles behind, when his horse sunk under him, having galloped upwards of seventy miles. Slover instantly JOHN SLOVER. UT sprung from his back, and ran on foot until sunset. Hav- ing for a moment, he heard a halloo, far behind him, and" seeing the keenness of the pursuit, he continued to run until ten o’clock at night, when he sunk upon the ground, and vomited violently. In two hours the moon arose, which he knew would enable the enemy to follow his trail through the night ; and again starting up, he ran forward until day. During the night he had followed a path, but in the morning he abandoned it, and changing his course, follow *d a high ridge, covered with rank grass and weeds, which «e carefully put back with a stick as he passed through d in order to leave as indistinct a trail as possible. On that evening he reached some of the tributaries of the Muskingum, where his naked and blistered skin attracted millions of musquetoes, that followed him day and night, effectually prevented his sleeping, and carefully removed such particles of skin as the nettles had left, so that if hi* own account is to be credited, upon reaching the Muskin- gum, which he did on the third day, he had been complete- ly peeled from head to foot. Here he found a few wild raspberries, which was the first food he had tasted for fo$r days. . He had never felt hunger,, but suffered much from faintness and exhaustion. He swam the Muskingum at Old Comer’s town, and looking back, thought that he put a great deal of ground between himself and the stake, at which he had been found near Waughcotomoco ; and that it would be very strange if, having been brought thus far, he should again fall into the power of the enemy. On the next day he reached Stillwater, where he caught two crawfish, and devoured them raw. Two days after- wards, he struck the Ohio river immediately opposite Wheeling, and perceiving a man standing upon the Island, he called to him, told him his name, and asked him to bring over a canoe for him. The fellow at first was very shy, but Slover having told the names of many officer* and privates, who had accompanied the expedition, he wa* at length persuaded to venture across, and the fugitive was safely transported to the Virginia shore, after an es- cape which has few parallels in real life, and which seeno^ *ven to exceed the bounds of probable fiction. 148 WESTERN ADVENTURE. CHAPTER VII. In the present chapter, we shall notice several circum- stances, in the order in which they occurred, none of which singly, are of sufficient importance to occupy a chapter to themselves. In the autumn of 1779, a number of keel boats were ascending the Ohio under the command of Major Rodgers, and had advanced as far as the mouth of Licking without accident. Here, however, they observed a few Indians, standing upon the southern extremity of a sandbar, while a canoe, rowed by three others, was in the act of putting off from the Kentucky shore, as if for the purpose of taking them aboard. Rodgers instantly order- ed the boats to be made fast on the Kentucky shore, while the crew, to the number of seventy men, well armed, cau- tiously advanced in such a manner as to encircle the spot where the enemy had been seen to land. Only five or six Indians had been seen, and no one dreamed of encoun- tering more than fifteen or twenty enemies. When Rodgers, however, had, as he supposed, complete- ly surrounded the enemy, and was preparing to rush upon them, from several quarters at once, he was thunderstruck at beholding several hundred savages suddenly spring up in front, rear, and upon both flanks! They instantly poured in a close discharge of rifles, and then throwing down their guns, fell upon the survivers with the toma hawk! The panic was complete, and the slaughter pro* digious. Major Rodgers, together with forty -five of his men, were almost instantly destroyed. The survivers made an effort to regain their boats, but the five men who had been left in charge of them, had immediately put off from shore in the hindmost boat, and the enemy had al- ready gained possession of the others. Disappointed in the attempt, they turned furiously upon the enemy, and aided by the approach of darkness, forced their way through their lines, and with the loss of several severely wounded, at length effected their escape to Harrodsburgh. Among tho wounded was Captain Robert Benham ROBERT BENHAM. 149 Shortly after breaking through the enemy’s line, he was shot through both hips, and the bones being shattered, he instantly fell to the ground. Fortunately, a large tree had lately fallen near the spot where he lay, and with great pain, he dragged himself into the top, and lay con- cealed among the branches. The Indians, eager in pur- suit of the others, passed him without notice, and by mid- night all was quiet. On the following day, ihe Indians returned to the battle ground, in order to strip the dead and take care of the boats. Benham, although in danger of famishing, permitted them to pass without making known his condition, very correctly supposing that his crippled legs would only induce them to tomahawk him upon the spot, in order to avoid the trouble of carrying him to their town. He lay close therefore, until the evening of the second day, when perceiving a raccoon descending a tree, near him, he shot it hoping to devise some means of reaching it, when he could kindle a fire and make a meal. Scarcely had his gun cracked, however, when he heard a human cry, apparently not more than fifty yards off. Supposing it to be an Indian, he hastily reloaded his gun, and re- mained silent, expecting the approach of an enemy. Presently the same voice was heard again, but much nearer. Still Benham made no reply, but cocked his gun and sat ready to fire as soon as an object appeared. A third halloo was quickly heard, followed by an exclama- tion of impatience and distress, which convinced Benham that the unknown must be a Kentuckian. As soon, there- fore, as he heard the expression “whoever you are, for God’s sake answer me!” he replied with readiness, and the parties were soon together. Benham, as we have already observed, was shot through both legs! The man who now appeared, had escaped from the same battle, with hoik arms broken! Thus each was enabled to supply what the other wanted. Benham having the perfect use of his arms, could load his gun and kill game, with great readiness, while his friend having the use of his legs, could kick the game to the spot where Benham sat, who was thus enabled to cook it. When n® WESTERN ADVENTURE* ISO wood was near them, his companion would rake up bruek with his feet, and gradually roll it within reach of Bei> * ham’s hands, who constantly fed his companion, and dress- ed his wounds as well as his own — tearing up both of their shirts for that purpose. They found some difficulty in procuring water, at first ; but Benham at length took ^ his own hat, and placing the rim between the teeth of hi* companion, directed him to wade into the Licking, up to If his neck, and dip the hat into the water, by sinking hi* own head. The man who could walk, was thus enabled to bring water, by means of his teeth, which Benham could afterwards dispose of as was necessary. In a few days, they had killed all the squirrels and bird* within reach, and the man with the broken arms, wa* sent out to drive game within gunshot of the spot, to which Benham was confined. Fortunately, wild turkeys wer® abundant in those woods, and his companion would walk around, and drive them towards Benham, who seldom fail- 'd to kill two or three of each flock. In this mannei, t they supported themselves for several w T eeks, until their wounds had healed, so as to enable them to travel. They then shifted their quarters, and put up a small shed at th® mouth of the Licking, where they encamped until late in November, anxiously expecting the arrival o** some boat, which should convey them to the falls of Ohio. On the 27th of November, they observed a flat beat roqving leisurely down the river. Benham instantly hoisted his hat upon a stick and hallooed loudly for helji. The crew, however, supposing them to be Indians; at least suspecting them of an intention to decoy them ashore, paid no attention to their signals of distress, but instantly put over to the opposite side of the river, and manning every oar, endeavored to pass them as rapidly as possible. Benham beheld them pass him with a sensation bordering on despair, for the place was much frequented by Indiana, and the approach of winter threatened them with destruc- tion, unless speedily relieved. At length, after the boat had passed him nearly half a mile, he saw a canoe put off from its stern, and cautiously approach the Kentucky ^re, evidently reconnoitering them with great suspicion ALEXANDER McCONNEL. IW He called loudly upon them for assistance, mentioned his name and made known his condition. After a long parley, and many evidences of reluctance on the part of the crew, the canoe at length touched the shore, and Bej> ham and his friend were taken on board. Their appear- ance excited much suspicion. They were almost entirely naked, and their faces were garnished with six weeks growth of beard. The one was barely able to hobbla upon crutches, and the* other could manage to feed himself with one of his hands. They were instantly taken to Louisville, where their clothes (which had been carried off in the boat which deserted them) were restored to them, and after a few weeks confinement, both were pes* fectly restored. Benham afterwards served in the northwest throughout the whole of the Indian war, accompanied the expedition* of Harmer and Wilkinson, shared in the disaster of St Clair, and afterward in the triumph of Wayne. Upon th* I’eturn of peace, he bought the land upon which Rodger* had been defeated, and ended his days in tranquillity, amid the scenes which had witnessed his sufferings. Early in the spring of 1780, Mr. Alexander McConne*, of Lexington, Ky. went into the woods on foot, to hunt deer. He soon killed a large buck, and returned homn for a horse, in order to bring it in. During his absence^ a party of five Indians, on one of their usual skulking ex- peditions, accidentally stumbled on the body of the dee% and perceiving that it had been recently killed, they na turally supposed that the hunter would speedily return to •ecure the flesh. Three of them, therefore, took their italions within close rifle shot of the deer, while the other two followed the trail of the hunter, and waylaid the path by which he was expected to return. McConnel, expect- ing no danger, rode carelessly along the path, which th* iwo scouts were watching, until he had come within view of the deer, when he was fired upon by the whole party,, and his horse killed. While laboring to extricate himself from the dying animal, he was seized by his enemies, in- stantly overpowered, and borne off as a prisoner. His captors, however, seemed to be a merry, good nx* 7Y 61- ?152 WESTERN ADVENTURE. W' tured set of fellows, and permitted him to accompany them \ d unbound; and, what was rather extraordinary, allowed him mi* to retain his gun and hunting accoutrements. He accom- panied them with great apparent cheerfulness through the 0 day, and displayed his dexterity in shooting deer for the use of the company, until they began to regard him with t great partiality. Having travelled with them in this man- ner for several days, they at length reached the banks of the Ohio river. Heretofore, the Indians had taken the precaution to bind him at night, although not very secure- ly; but on that evening, he remonstrated with them on the 2 subject, and complained so strongly of the pain which the cords gave him, that they merely wrapped the buffalo tug loosely around his wrists, and having tied it in an easy m knot, and attached the extremities of the rope to their own bodies, in order to prevent his moving without awakening them, they very composedly went to sleep, leaving the prisoner to follow their example or not, as he pleased. McConnel determined to effect his escape that night, i: possible, as on the following night they would cross the river, which would render it much more difficult. He, therefore, lay quietly until near midnight, anxiously ru- minating upon the best means of effecting his object. Ac- cidentally casting his eyes in the direction of his feet, they fell upon the glittering blade of a knife, which had escaped its sheath, and was now lying near the feet of one of the Indians. To reach it with his hands, without disturbing the two Indians, to whom he was fastened, was impossible, and it was very hazardous to attempt to draw it up with his feet. This, however, he attempted. With much dif- ficulty he grasped the blade between his toes, and after repeated and iong continued efforts, succeeded at length in bringing it within reach of his hands. To cut his cords, was then but the work of a moment, and gradually and silently extricating his person from the arms of the Indians, he walked to the fire and sat down. He saw that his work was but half done. That if he should attempt to return home, without destroying his anemies, he would assuredly be pursued and probably .overtaken, when his fate would be certain. On the other ALEXANDER McCONNEL. 153 land, it seemed almost impossible for a single man to suc- ceed in a conflict with five Indians, even although unarmed md asleep. He could not hope to deal a blow with his inife so silently and fatally, as to destroy each one of his enemies in turn, without awakening the rest. Their slumbers were proverbially light and restless; and if he failed with a single one, he must instantly be overpowered by the survivers. The knife, therefore, was out of the question. After anxious reflection for a few minutes, he formed bis plan. The guns of the Indians were stacked near the {ire; their knives and tomahawks were in sheaths by their sides. The latter he dared not touch for fear of awaken- ing their owners; but the former he carefully removed, with the exception of two, and hid them in the woods, where he. knew the Indians would not readily find them. He then returned to the spot where the Indians were still sleeping, perfectly ignorant of the fate preparing for them, and taking a gun in each hand, he rested the muzzles upon a log within six feet of his victims, and having taken de- liberate aim at the head of one, and the heart of another, he pulled both triggers at the same moment. Both shots were fatal. At the report of their guns, the others sprung to their feet, and stared wildly around them. McConnel, who had run instantly to the spot where the other rifles were hid, hastily seized one of them and fired at two of his enemies, who happened to stand in a line with each other. The nearest fell dead, being shot through the centre of the body; the second fell also, bellowing loudly, but quickly recovering, limped off into the woods as fast as possible. The fifth, and only one who remained unhurt, darted off like a deer, with a yell which announced equal terror and astonishment. McConnel, not wishing to fight any more such battles, selected his own rifle from the stack, and made the best of his way to Lexington, where he arrived safely within two days. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Dunlap, of Fayette, who had been several months a prisoner amongst the Indians on Mad river, made her escape, and returned to Lexington, WESTERN ADVENTURE. I&4 She reported, that the surviver returned to his tribe whk a lamentable tale. He related that they had taken a fine young hunter near Lexington, and had brought him safely as far as the Ohio; that while encamped upon the bank of the river, a large party of white men had fallen upon them in the night, and killed all his companions, .together with the poor defenceless prisoner, who lay bound hand and foot, unable either to escape or resist!! Early in May, 1781, McAfee’s station, in the neighbor- hood of Harrodsburgh, was alarmed. On the morning of the 9th, Samuel McAfee, accompanied by another man, left the fort in order to visit a small plantation in the neighborhood, and at the distance of three hundred yards from the gate, they were fired upon by a party of Indiana in ambush. The man who accompanied him instantly fell, and McAfee attempted to regain the fort. While running rapidly for .that purpose, he found himself sud- denly intercepted by .an Indian, who, springing out of the canebrake, planted himself directly in his path. There was no time for compliments. Each glared upon the other for an instant in silence, and both raising their gams at the same moment, pulled the triggers together. The Indian’s rifle snapped, while McAfee’s ball passed directly through his brain. Having no time to reload his gun, he sprung over the body of his antagonist, and con- tinued his flight to the fort. When within one hundred yards of the gate, he wa3 met by his two brothers, Robert and James, who, at the report of the guns, had hurried out to the assistance of their brother. Samuel hastily informed them of their danger, and exhorted them instantly to return. James readily complied, but Robert, deaf to all remonstrances, declared that he must have a view of the dead Indian. He ran on, for that purpose, and having regaled himself with that spectacle, was hastily returning by the same path, when he saw five or six Indians between him and the fort, evidently bent upon taking him alive. All hk activity and presence of mind was now put in requisition. b'He ran rapidly from tree to tree, endeavoring to turn fiank 5 and reach one of the gates, and after & vaii BRYANT AND HOGAN. 1SS Jtty of turns and doublings in the thick wood, he found himself pressed by only one Indian. McAfee, hastily throwing himself behind a fence, turned upon his pursuer and compelled him to take shelter behind a tree. Both stood still for a moment, McAfee having his gun cocked, and the sight fixed upon the tree, at the spot where he supposed the Indian would thrust out his .head in order to have a view of his antagonist. After waiting a few seconds he was gratified. The Indian slowly and cautiously exposed a part of his head, and be- gan to elevate his rifle. As soon as a sufficient mark presented itself McAfee fired, and the Indian fell. While turning, in order to continue his flight, he was fired on by a party of six, which compelled him again to tree. But scarcely had he done so,* when, from the opposite quarter he received the fire of # three more enemies, which .made the bark fly around him, and knocked up the dust about his feet. Thinking his post rather too hot for safety, he neglected all shelter, and ran directly for th© .fort, which, in defiance of all opposition, he reached ii safety, to the inexpressible joy of his brothers, who had .despaired of his return. The Indians now opened a heavy fire upon the fort, in *tfheir usual manner; but finding every effort useless, they hastily decamped, without any loss beyond the two who had fallen by the hands of the brothers, and without having inflicted any upon the garrison. Within half sun hour, Major McGary brought up a party from Harrods- burg at full gallop, and uniting with the garrison, pursued the enemy with all possible activity. They soon over- took them, and a sharp action ensued. The Indians were routed in a few minutes, with the loss of six warriors left dead upon the ground, and many others wounded, who as usual were borne offi The pursuit was continued for several miles, but from- the thickness of the woods, and the extreme activity and address of the enemy, was not ▼ery effectual. McGary lost one man dead upon tb* .spot, and another mortally wounded. About the same time, Bryant’s station was much har- Leased by small parties of the enemy, This p as we has* WESTERN ADVENTURE, ,56 •Iready remarked, was a frontier post, and generally re- ceived the brunt of Indian hostility. It had been settled a 1779 by four brothers from North Carolina, one of vhom, William, had married a sister of Colonel Daniel Boone. The Indians were constantly lurking in the neigh- borhood, waylaying the paths , stealing their horses, and butchering their cattle. It at length became necessary to hunt in parties of twenty or thirty men, so as to be able to meet and repel those attacks, which were every day becoming more bold and frequent. One afternoon, about the 20th of May, William Bryant, accompanied by twenty men, left the fort on a hunting expedition down the Elkhorn creek. They moved with caution, until they had passed all the points where ambus*’ cades had generally been formed, when, seeing no enemy, they became more bold, and determined, in order to sweep a large extent of country, to divide their company into two parties. One of them, conducted by Bryant in per- son, was to descend the Elkhorn on its southern bank, flanking out largely, and occupy as much ground as pos- sible. The other, under the orders of James Hogan, a young farmer in good circumstances, was to move down in a parallel line upon the north bank. The two parties were to meet at night, and encamp together at the mouth of Cane run. Each punctually performed the first part of their plans. Hogan, however, had travelled but a few hundred yards, when he heard a loud voice behind him exclaim in very good English, “ stop hoys !” Hastily looking back, they saw several Indians, on foot, pursuing them as rapidly as possible. Without halting to count numbers, the party put spurs to their horses, and dashed through the woods at full speed, the Indians keeping close behind them, and at times gaining upon them. There was a led horse in company, which had been brought with them for the pur- pose of packing game. This was instantly abandoned, and fell into the hands of the Indians. Several of them lost their hats in the eagertiess of flight; but quickly get- ting into the open woods, they left their pursuers so far behind, that they had leisure to breathe and inquire of BRYANT AND HOGAN. 16 ? aach other, whether it was worth while to kill their horses before they had ascertained the number of the enemy. They quickly determined to cross the creek, and await the approach of the Indians, If they found them superior to their own and Bryant’s party united, they would imme diately return to the fort; as, by continuing their march to the mouth of Cane run, they would bring a superior enemy upon their friends, and endanger the lives of the whole party. They accordingly crossed the creek, dis mounted, and awaited the approach of the enemy. B> this time it had become dark. The Indians were distinct- ly heard approaching the creek upon the opposite side, and after a short halt, a solitary warrior descended the bank and began to wade through the stream. Hogan waited until they had emerged from the gloom of the trees which grew upon the bank, and as soon as he had reached the middle of the stream, where the light was more distinct, he took deliberate aim and fired. A great splashing in the water was heard, but presently all became quiet. The pursuit was discontinued, and the party re- mounting their horses, returned home. Anxious, however, to apprize Bryant’s party of their danger, they left the fort before daylight on the ensuing morning, and rode rap- idly down the creek, in the direction of the mouth of Cane. When within a few hundred yards of the spot where they supposed the encampment to be, they heard the report of many guns in quick succession. Supposing that Bryant had fallen in with a herd of buffalo, they quickened their march in order to take part in the sport. The morning was foggy, and the smoke of the guns lay so heavily upon the ground that they could see noth- ing until they had approached within twenty yards of the creek, when they suddenly found themselves within pistol shot of a party of Indians, very composedly seated upon their packs, and preparing their pipes. Both parties were much startled, but quickly recovering, they sheltered themselves as usual, and the action opened with great vi- vacity. The Indians maintained their ground for half ait hour, with soma firmness, but beingr hard aresuMad in froni 1S8 WESTERN ADVENTURE. and turned in flank, they at length gave way, and being closely pursued, were ultimately routed, with considerable loss, w r hich, however, could not be distinctly ascertained. Of Hogan’s party, one man was killed on the spot, and three others w’ounded, none mortally. It happened that Bryant’s company, had encamped at the mouth of Cane, as had been agreed upon, and were unable to account for Hogan’s absence. That, about day- light, they had heard a bell at a distance, which they im- mediately recognized as the one belonging to the led horse which had accompanied Hogan’s party, and which, as we have seen, had been abandoned to the enemy the evening before. Supposing their friends to be bewildered in the fog, and unable to find their camp, Bryant, accompanied by Grant, one of his men, mounted a horse, and rode to the spot where the bell w T as still ringing. They quickly fell into an ambuscade, and w ere fired upon. Bryant was mortally, and Grant severely wounded, the first being shot through the hip and both knees, the latter through the back. Being both able to keep the saddle, however, they set spurs to their horses, and arrived at the station shortly after breakfast. The Indians, in the mean time, had fal- len upon the encampment, and instantly dispersed it, and while preparing to regale themselves after their victory, were suddenly attacked, as we have seen, by Hogan. The timidity of Hogan’s party, at the first appearance of the Indians, was the cause of the death of Bryant. The same men who fled so hastily in the evening, were able the next morning by a little firmness, to vanquish the same party of Indians. Had they stood at first, an equal suc- cess would probably have attended them, and the life of their leader w r ould have been preserved. We have now r to notice an adventure of a different kind, and which, from its singularity, is entitled to a place in our pages. In 1781 ^Lexington was only a cluster of cabins, one of which, near the spot where the court house now stands, was used as a school house. One morning in May, McKinley, the teacher, was sitting alone at his desk* Easily engaged in writing, when hearing a slight noise at McKinley. I5V the door, he turned his head, and beheld — what do y.ou suppose, reader? A tall Indian in his war paint? bran- dishing his tomahawk, or handling his knil'e? No! an enormous cat, with her forefeet upon the step of the door, her tail curled over her back, her bristles erect, and her eyes glanced rapidly through the room, as if in search of a /nouse. McKinley’s position at first completely concealed him, but a slight and involuntary motion of his chair, at sight of this shaggy inhabitant of the forest, attracted puss’s attention, 'and their eyes met. McKinley having heard much of the powers of “the human face divine,” in quel- ling the audacity of wild animals, attempted to disconcert the intruder by a frown. But puss was not to be bullied. Her eyes flashed fire, her tail w aved angrily, and she be- gan to gnash her teeth, evidently bent upon serious hos- tility. Seeing his danger, McKinley hastily arose and attempted to snatch a cylindrical rule from a table which stood within reach, but the cat was too quick for him. Darting upon him v/ith the proverbial activity of her tribe, she fastened upon his side w r ith her teeth, and began to rend and tear with her claw's like a fury. McKinley’s clothes were in an instant torn from his side, and his flesh dreadfully mangled by the enraged animal, whose strength and ferocity filled him with astonishment. He in vain attempted to disengage her from his side. Her long sharp teeth were fastened between his ribs, and his efforts serv- ed but to enrage -her the more. Seeing his blood flow' very copiously from the numerous wounds in his side, he became seriously alarmed, and not knowing what else to do, he threw himself upon the edge of the table and pres- sed her against the sharp corner with the whole weight e-f his body. The cat now* began to utter the most wild and discor- dant cries, and McKinley, at the same time, lifting up his voice in concert, the two together sent forth notes so dole- ful as to alarm the whole town. Women, who are always the first in hearing or spreading news, were now the first to come to McKinley’s assistance. But so strange ami vij&uuarthjy was dhe harmony within the school . th&S WESTERN ADVENTURE. 130 they hesitated long before they ventured to enter. Ai r length the boldest of them rushed in, and seeing McKin- ley bending over the corner of the table, and writhing his body as if in great pain, she at first supposed that he was laboring under a severe fit of the colic; but quickly per- ceiving the cat, which was now in the agonies of death, she screamed out, “why good heaven I Mr. McKinley, what is the matter?” “I have caught a cat, madam!” replied he, gravely naming around, while the sweat streamed from his face ^nder the mingled operation of fright, and fatigue, and agony. Most of the neighbors had now arrived, and attempted to disengage the dead cat from her antagonist ; but, so firmly were her tusks locked between his ribs, that this was a work of no small difficulty. Scarcely had it been effected, when McKinley became very sick, and was compelled to go to bed. In a few days, however,* he had totally recovered, and so late as 1820, was alive, and a resident of Bourbon county, Ky., where he was often been heard to affirm, that he, at any time, had rather fight two Indians than one wild cat. About the same time, a conflict, more unequal and equally remarkable, took place in another part of the country. David Morgan, a relation of the celebrated General Daniel Morgan, had settled upon the Monongahela, during the earlier period of the revolutionary war, and at this time had ventured to occupy a cabin at the distance of several miles from any settlement. One morning, having sent his younger children out to a field at a con- siderable distance from the house, he became uneasy about them, and repaired to the spot where they were working, armed as usual with a good rifle. While sitting upon the fence, and giving some directions as to their work, he ob- served two Indians upon the other side of the field gazing earnestly upon the party. He instantly called to the children to make their escape, while he should attempt to cover their retreat. The odds were greatly against him, as in addition to other circumstances, he was nearly seventy years of age, and of course unable to contend with his enemies in DAVID MORGAN. 161 running. The house was more than a mile distant, but the children, having two hundred yards the start, and be- ing effectually covered by their father, were soon so far in front, that the Indians turned their attention entirely to the old man. He ran for several hundred yards with an activity which astonished himself, but perceiving that he would be overtaken, long before he could reach his home, he fairly turned at bay, and prepared for a strenu- ous resistance. The woods through which they were running, were very thin, and consisted almost entirely of small trees, behind which, it was difficult to obtain proper shelter. When Morgan adopted the above mentioned resolution, he had just passed a large walnut, which stood like a patriarch among the saplings which surrounded it, and it became necessary to run back about ten steps in order to regain it. The Indians became startled at the sudden advance of the fugitive, and were compelled to halt among a cluster of saplings, where they anxiously strove to shelter themselves. This, however, was impossible, and Morgan, who was an excellent marksman, saw enough of the person of one of them to justify him in risking a shot. His enemy instantly fell mortally wounded. -Tho other Indian, taking advantage of Morgan’s empty gun, sprung from his shelter and advanced rapidly upon him. The old man, having no time to reload his gun, was com- pelled to fly a second time. The Indian gained rapidly upon him, and when within twenty steps, fired, but with so unsteady an aim, that Morgan was totally unhurt, the ball having passed over his shoulder. He now again stood at bay, clubbing his rifle for a blow, whila the Indian dropping his empty gun, brandished his tomahawk and prepared to throw it at his enemy. Morgan struck with the but of his gun, and the Indian whirled his tomahawk at one and the same moment. Both blows took effect; and both were at once wounded and disarmed. The breech of the rifle was broken against the Indian’s skull, and the edge of the tomahawk was shattered against the barrel of the rifle, having first cut off tw’o of the fingers of Morgan’s left hand. The 762 ' WESTERN ADVENTURE, Indian then attempting to draw his krife, Morgan grapu, pled him and bore him to the ground. A furious struggle ensued, in which the old man’s strength failed, and the Indian succeeded in turning him. Planting his knee in the breast of his enemy, and yell- ing loudly, as is usual with them upon any turn of fortune, he again felt for his knife in order to terminate the strug- gle at once; but having lately stolen a woman’s apron, and tied it around his waist, his knife was so much con- fined, that he had great difficulty in finding the handle. Morgan, in the mean time, being a regular pugilist, ac- cording to the custom of Virginia, and perfectly at home in a ground struggle, took advantage of the awkwardness of the Indian, and got one of the fingers of his right hand between his teeth. The Indian tugged and roared in vain, struggling to extricate it. Morgan held him fast, and began to assist him in hunting for the knife. Each seized it at the same moment, the Indian by the blade and Morgan by the handle, but with a very slight hold. The Indian having the firmest hold, began to draw the knife further out of its sheath, when Morgan suddenly giving his finger a furious bite, twitched the knife dexter- ously through his- hand, cutting it severely. Both now sprung to their feet, Morgan brandishing his adversary’s knife, and still holding his finger between his teeth. In vain the poor Indian struggled to get away, rearing, plunging, and bolting like an unbroken colt. The teeth of the white man were like a vise, and he at length suc- ceeded in giving him a stab in the side. The Indian received it without falling, the knife having struck his ribs; but a second blow, aimed at the stomach, proved more effectual, and the savage fell. Morgan thrust the knife, handle and all, into the cavity of the body, directed it upward, and starting to his feet, made the best of his way home. The neighborhood was quickly alarmed, and hurrying to the spot where the struggle had taken place, they found the first Indian lying where he had fallen, but the second had disappeared. A broad trail of blood, however, con- ducted to a fallen- tree top, within one hundred yards of ADAM POE. 163 the spot, into which the poor fellow had dragged himself, and where he now lay bleeding, but still alive. He had plucked the knife from his wound, and was endeavoring to dress it with the stolen apron which had cost him his fife, when his enemies approached. The love of life appeared still strong within him, however. He greeted them with what was intended for an insinuating smile, held out his hand and exclaimed in broken English, “how de do, broder! how de do! glad to see you!” But poor fellow, the love was all on his side. Their brother- hood extended only to tomahawking, scalping, and skin- ning him, all of which operations were performed within a few minutes after the meeting. To such an extent had mutual injury inflamed both parties. About the middle of July, 1782, seven Wyandotls crossed the Ohio a few miles above Wheeling, and com- mitted great depredations upon the southern shore, killing an old man whom they found alone in his cabin, and spreading terror throughout the neighborhood. Within a few hours after their retreat, eight men assembled from different parts of the small settlement and pursued the enemy with great expedition. Among the most active and efficient of the party were two brothers, Adam and Andrew Poe. Adam was particularly popular. In strength, action, and hardihood, he had no equal, being finely formed and inured to all the perils of the woods. They had not followed the trail far, before they became satisfied that the depredators were conducted by Big Foot, a renowned chief of the Wyandott tribe, who derived his name from the immense size of his feet. His height considerably exceeded six feet, and his strength was represented as Herculean. He had also five brothers, but little inferior to himself in size and courage, and as they generally went in company, they were the terror of the whole- country. Adam Poe was overjoyed at the idea of measuring his strength with that of so celebrated a chief, and urged the pursuit with a keenness which quickly brought him into the vicinity of the enemy. For the last few miles, the trail had led them up the southern bank of the Ohio, where the foot-* 164 WESTERN ADVENTURE. prints m the sand were deep and obvious, but when within a few hundred yards of the point at which the whites as well as the Indians were in the habit of cross- ing, it suddenly diverged from the stream, and stretched along a rocky ridge, forming an obtuse angle with its former direction. Here Adam halted for a moment, and directed his brother and the other young men to follow the trail with proper caution, while he himself still adhered to the river path, which led through clusters of willows directly to the point where he supposed the enemy to lie. Having examined the priming of his gun, he crept cautiously through the bushes, until he had a view of the point of embarcation. Here lay two canoes, empty and apparently deserted. Being satisfied, however, that the Indians were close at hand, he relaxed nothing of his vigilance, and quickly gained a jutting cliff, which hung immediately over the canoes. Hearing a low murmur below, he peered cautiously over, and beheld the object of his search. The gigantic Big Foot, lay below him in the shade of a w illow, and was talking in a low r deep tone to another w r arrior, w T ho seemed a mere pigmy by his side. Adam cautiously drew back, and cocked his gun. The mark w r as fair — the distance did not exceed twenty feet, and his aim was unerring. Raising his rifle slow ly and cautiously, he took a steady aim at Big Foot’s breast, and drew the trigger. His gun flashed. Both Indians sprung to their feet w r ith a deep interjection of surprise, and for a single second all three stared upon each other. This in- activity, however, w as soon over. Adam w T as too much hampered by the bushes to retreat, and setting his life upon a cast of the die, he sprung over the bush which had sheltered him, and summoning all his pow r ers, leaped bold- ly down the precipice and alighted upon the breast of Big Foot with a shock which bore him to the earth. At the moment of contact, Adam had also throwrn his right arm around the neck of the smaller Indian, so that all three came to the earth together. At that moment a sharp firing was heard among the bushes above, announc- ing that the other parties were engaged, but the trio ADAM POE. 165 below were too busy to attend to any thing but themselves. Big Foot was for an instant stunned by the violence of the shock, and Adam was enabled to keep them both down. But the exertion necessary for that purpose was so great* that he had no leisure to use his knife. Big Foot quickly recovered, and without attempting to rise, wrapped his long arms around Adam’s body, and pressed him to his breast with the crushing force of a Boa Constrictor * Ad- am, as we have already remarked, was a powerful man* and had seldom encountered his equal, but never had he yet felt an embrace like that of Big Foot. He instantly relaxed his hold of the small Indian* who sprung to his feet. Big Foot then ordered him to run for his tomahawk which lay within ten steps, and kill the white man, while he held him in his arms. Adam, seeing his danger, struggled manfully to extricate himself from the folds of the giant, but in vain* The lesser Indian approached with his uplifted tomahawk, but Adam watched aim closely, and as he was about to strike, gave him a kick so sudden and violent, as to knock the tomahawk from his hand, and send him staggering back into the water. Big Foot uttered an exclamation in a tone of deep contempt at the failure of his companion, and raising his voice to its highest pitch, thundered out several words in the Indian tongue, which Adam could not understand, but supposed to be a direction for a second attack. The lesser Indian now again approached, carefully shunning Adam’s heels, and making many motions with his tomahawk, in order to deceive him as to the point where the blow would fall. This lasted for several sec- onds, until a thundering exclamation from Big Foot, com- pelled his companion to strike. Such was Adam’s dex- terity and vigilance, however, that he managed to receive the tomahawk in a glancing direction upon his left wrist, wounding him deeply but not disabling him. He now made a sudden and desperate effort to free himself from the arms of the giant and succeeded. Instantly snatching up a rifle (for the Indian could not venture to shoot for fear of hurting his companion) he shot the lesser Indian through the body. WESTERN ADVENTURE. 1$6 Bat scarcely had he done so when Big Foot arose, and placing one hand upon his collar and the other upon his hip, pitched him ten feet into the air, as he himself would have pitched a child. Adam fell upon his back at the edge of the water, but before his antagonist could spring upon him, he was again upon his feet, and stung with rage at the idea of being handled so easily, he attacked his gigantic antagonist with a fury which for a time compen sated for inferiority of strength. It was now a fair fist fight between them, for in the hurry of the struggle neither had leisure to draw their knives. Adam’s superior ac- tivity and experience as a pugilist, gave him great advan- tage. The Indian struck awkwardly, and finding himself rapidly dropping to leeward, he closed with his antagonist, and again buried him to the ground. They quickly rolled into the river, and the struggle continued with unabated fury, each attempting to drown the other. The Indian being unused to such violent ex- ertion, and having been much injured by the first shock in his stomach, was unable to exert the same powers which had given him such a decided superiority at first; and Adam, seizing him by the scalp lock, put his head under water, and held it there, until the faint struggles of the Indian induced him to believe that he was drowned, when he relaxed his hold and attempted to draw his knife. The Indian, however, to use Adam’s own expression, “had only been possuming!” He instantly regained his feet, and in his turn put his ad ( rersary under. In the struggle both were carried out into the current, beyond their depth, and each was compelled to relax his hold and swim for his life. There was still one loaded rifle upon the shore, and each swam hard in order to reach it, but the Indian proved the most expert swim- mer, and Adam seeing that he should be too late, turned and swam out into the stream, intending to dive and thus frustrate his enemy’s intention. At this instant, Andrew, having heard that his brother was alone in a struggle with two Indians, and in great danger, ran up hastily to the edge of the bank above in order to assist him. An- other white man followed him closely, and seeing Adam CONTEST BETWEEN ADAM POE AND BIG FOOT ADAM POE. 169 in the river, covered with blood, and swimming rapidly from shore, mistook him for an Indian and fired upon him, wounding him dangerously in the shoulder. Adam turned, and seeing his brother, called loudly upon him to u shoot the big Indian upon the shore.” Andrew’s gun, however, was empty, having just been discharged. Fortunately, Big Foot had also seized the gun with which Adam had shot the lesser Indian, so that both were upon an equality. The contest now was who should load first Big Foot poured in his powder first, E,nd drawing his ram- rod out of its sheath in too great a hurry, threw it into the river, and while he ran to recover it, Andrew gained an advantage. Still the Indian was but a second too late, for his gun was at his shoulder, when Andrew’s ball en- tered his breast. The gun dropped from his hands and he fell forward upon his face upon the very margin of the river. Andrew, now alarmed for his brother, who was scarcely able to swim, threw down his gun and rushed into the river in order to bring him ashore; but Adam, more intent upon securing the scalp of Big Foot as a trophy, than upon his own safety, called loudly upon his brother to leave him alone and scalp the big Indian, who was now endeavoring to roll himself into the water, from a romantic desire, peculiar to the Indian warrior, of securing his scalp from the enemy. Andrew, however, refused to obey, and insisted upon saving the living, before attending to the dead. Big Foot, in the mean time, had succeeded ra reaching the deep water before he expired, and his body was borne off by the waves, without being stripped of the ornament and pride of an Indian warrior. Not a man of the Indians had escaped. Five of Big Foot’s brothers, the flower of the Wyandott nation, had accompanied him in the expedition, and all perished. It is said that the news of this calamity, threw the whole tribe into mourning. Their remarkable size, their cour- age, and their superior intelligence, gave them immense influence, which, greatly to their credit, was generally exerted on the side of humanity. Their powerful interpo- sition, had saved many prisoners from the stake, and had given a milder character to the warfare of the Indians in WESTERN ADVENTURE. 170 that paTt of the country. A chief of the same name was alive in that part of the country so late as 1792, but whether a brother or son of' Big Foot, is not known. Adam Poe recovered of his wounds, and lived many years after his memorable conflict; but never forgot the tremendous u hug ” which he sustained in the arms of Big Foot. CHAPTER VIII. The present, like the preceding chapter, will be devoted to miscellaneous items of intelligence, arranged in chro- nological order. About the middle of the summer of 1792, a gentleman named Woods, imprudently removed from the neighborhood of a station, and for the benefit of his stock, settled on a lonely heath, near Beargrass. One morning he left his family, consisting of a wife, a daughter not yet grown, and a lame negro man, and rode off to the nearest station, not expecting to return until night. Mrs. Woods, while engaged in her dairy, was alarmed at see- ing several Indians rapidly approaching the house. She instantly screamed loudly, in order to give the alarm, aad ran with her utmost speed, in order to reach the house be- fore them. In this she succeeded, but had not time to close the door until the foremost Indian had forced his way into the house. As soon as he entered, the lame negro grap- pled him and attempted to throw him upon the floor, but was himself hurled to the ground with violence, the In- dian falling upon him. Mrs. Woods was too busily engaged in keeping the door closed against the party without, to attend to the combat- ants, but the lame negro, holding the’ Indian in his arms, called to the young girl to cut his head off with a very &karp axe which lay under the bed. She attempted 1 to obey, but struck with so trembling a hand, that the blow * was ineffectual. Repeating her efforts under the direc- t £ion of the negro, how r ever, she at length wounded the so badly, that the negro was enabled to arise, aad DAVIS, CAFPREE, AND McCLURE. complete the execution. Elated with success, he then called to his mistress and told her to suffer another Indian to enter and they would kill them all one by one. While deliberating upon this proposal, however, a sharp firing was heard without, and the Indians quickly disappeared. A party of white men had seen them at a distance, and having followed them cautiously, had now interposed, at a very critical moment, and rescued a helpless family from almost certain destruction. In the spring of 1784, three young Kentuckians, Davis, Caffree, and McClure, pursued a party of southern In- dians, who had stolen horses from Lincoln county, and finding it impossible to overtake them, they determined to go on to the nearest Indian settlement, and make repri- sals,. horse stealing being at that time a very fashionable amusement, and much practised on both sides. After travelling several days, they came within a few miles of an Indian town near the Tennessee river, called Chica- caugo. Here they fell in with three Indians. Finding themselves equal in point of numbers, the two parties made signs of peace, shook hands and agreed to travel together. Each, however, was evidently suspicious of the other. The Indians walked upon one side of the road and the whites upon the other, watching each other atten- tively. At length, the Indians spoke together in tones so low and earnest, that the whites became satisfied of their treacherous intentions, and determined to anticipate them. Caffree being a very powerful man, proposed that he him- self should seize one Indian, while Davis and McClure should shoot the other two. The plan was a bad one, but was unfortunately adopted. Caffree sprung boldly upon the nearest Indian, grasped his throat firmly, hurled him to the ground, and drawing a cord from his pocket at- tempted to tie him. At the same instant Davis and Mc- Clure attempted to perform their respective parts. Mc- Clure killed his man, but Davis’ gun missed fire. AH three, i. e. the two white men, and the Indian at whom Davis had flashed, immediately took trees, and prepared t&ar a skirmishy while Caffree remained upon the^grounf 172 WESTERN ADVENTURE. with the captured Indian, both exposed to the fire of the others. In a few seconds, the savage at whom Davis had flashed, shot Caffree as he lay upon the ground and gave him a mortal wound, and was instantly shot in turn by McClure, who had reloaded his gun. Caffree becoming very weak, called upon Davis to come and assist him in tying the Indian, and instantly afterwards expired. As Davis was running up to the assistance of his friend, the Indian, now released by the death of his captor, sprung to his feet, and seizing Oaffree’s rifle, presented it menac- ingly at Davis, whose gun was not in order for service, and who ran off into the forest, closely pursued by the In- dian. McClure hastily reloaded his gun, and taking up the rifle which Davis had dropped, followed them for some distance into the forest, making all those signals which had been concerted between them, in case of separation. All, however, was vain ; he saw nothing more of Davis, nor could he ever afterwards learn his fate. As he never returned to Kentucky, however, he probably perished. McClure, finding himself alone in the enemy’s country, and surrounded by dead bodies, thought it prudent to aban- don the object of the expedition and return to Kentucky. He accordingly retraced his steps,. still bearing Davis’ ri- fle in addition to his own. He had scarcely marched a mile, before he saw advancing from the opposite direction, an Indian warrior, riding a horse with a bell around its neck, and accompanied by a boy on foot. Dropping one of the rifles, which might have created suspicion, McClure advanced with an air of confidence, extending his hand and making other signs of peace. The opposite party appeared frankly to receive his overtures, and dismount- ing, seated himself upon a log, and drawing out his pipe, gave a few puffs himself, and then handed it to McClure. In a few minutes another bell was heard, at the distance of half a mile, and a second party of Indians appeared upon horseback. The Indian with McClure now coolly informed him by signs that when the horsemen arrived, he (McClure) was to be bound and carried off as a prisoner with his feet tied under the horse’s belly. In order to THOMAS MARSHALL. 173 explain it more fully, the Indian got astride of the log, and locked his legs together underneath it. McClure internally thanking the fellow for his excess of candor, de- termined to disappoint him, and while his enemy was busi- ly engaged in riding the log, and mimicking the actions of a prisoner, he very quietly blew his brains out, and ran off into the woods. The Indian boy instantly mounted the belled horse, and rode off in an opposite direction. McClure was fiercely pursued by several small Indian dogs, that frequently ran between his legs and threw him down. After falling five or six times, his eyes became full of dust, and he was totally blind. Despairing of escape, he doggedly lay upon his face, expecting every instant to feel the edge of the tomahawk. To his aston- ishment, however, no enemy appeared, and even the Indi- an dogs, after tugging at him for a few minutes, and com- pletely stripping him of his breeches, left him to continue his journey unmolested. Finding every thing quiet, in a few moments he arose, and taking up his gun, con- tinued his march to Kentucky. He reached home in safe- ty, and in 1820 was still alive. This communication is from his own lips, and may be relied upon as correct. In the course of the next year, many families came down the Ohio in boats, landed at Maysville, and continu- ed their route by land, in such parts of the country a s pleased them. Out of a number of incidents, which at- tended the passage of boats down the river, I shall select two, as worthy of being mentioned. Colonel Thomas Marshall, formerly commander of the third Virginia reg- iment on continental establishment, and subsequently holding the same rank in the Virginia artillery, embarked with a numerous family on board of a flat bottomed boat., and descended the Ohio, without any incident worthy of notice, until he had passed the mouth of Kenawha. Here, about ten o’clock at night, he was hailed from the north- ern shore, by a man who spoke good English, and quickly announced himself as James Girty, the brother of Simon, both of whom have already been repeatedly mentioned. The boat dropped slowly down within one hundred and fifty yards •f the shore, and Girty making a corresponding meve- 174 WESTERN ADVENTURE. meat on the beach, the conference was kept up for sever- al minutes. He began by mentioning his name, and inquiring that of the master of the boat. Having been satisfied upon this head,, he assured him that he knew him well, respected him highly, &,c. &,c., and concluded with some rather extraordinary remarks. “ He had been posted there, he said, by the order of his brother Simon, to warn all boats of the danger of permit- ting themselves to be decoyed ashore. The Indians had become jealous of him, and he had lost that influence which he formerly held amongst them. He deeply regret- ted the injury which he had inflicted upon his countrymen, and wished to be restored to their society. In order to convince them of the sincerity of his regard, he had di- rected him to warn all boats of the snares spread for them. Every effort would be made to draw passengers ashore. White men would appear on the bank; and children would be heard to supplicate for mercy. But, continued he, do you keep the middle of the river, and steel your heart against every mournful application which you may re- ceive.” The colonel thanked him for his intelligence, and continued his course. From this it would appear, that Girty’s situation was by no means enviable. The superior intelligence which had first given him influence, gradually attracted envy. Com- binations were probably formed against him, as they are in civilized life, against every man who is guilty of the unpardonable offence of mounting rapidly above his fel- lows. Ambition, jealousy, intrigue, combinations for par- ticular objects, prevail as strongly among savages as among civilized beings, and spring in each from the same source — a tender, passionate, inordinate love of self — a passion the most universal, deeply rooted, and inlinitely diversi- fied in its operations, of any in existence — a passion as strong and easily offended in the degraded Hottentot, as in the Emperor Napoleon, in the superannuated old woman, as in the blooming belle — the only human passion which age cannot tame, or misery extinguish or experience cure, or philosophy expel ; which flutters as strongly in the jaw3 of death, as in the vigor of life, and is as buoyant and rid- JAMES WARD. 175 iculous in the breast of the philosopher, as in that of a village beauty. Nothing more was ever heard of Girty’s wish to be restored to his station in society; but his warn- ing, by whatever motive dictated, was of service to many families-. About the same time, Captain James Ward, at present a highly respectable citizen of Mason county, Kv., was descending the Ohio, under circumstances which rendered a renconter with the Indians peculiarly to be dreaded. He, together with half a dozen others, one of them his nephew, embarked in a crazy boat, about forty-five feet, long, and eight feet wide, with no other bulwark than a , single pine plank, above each gunnel. The boat was much encumbered with baggage, and seven horses were . on board. Having seen no enemy for several days, they had become secure and careless, and permitted the boat to drift within fifty yards of the Ohio shore. Suddenly,, several hundred Indians showed themselves on the bank, and running down boldly to the waters edge, opened a heavy fire upon the boat. The astonishment of the crew may be conceived. Captain Ward and his nephew were at the oars when the enemy appeared, and the captain knowing that their safety depended upon their ability to reg'ain the middle of the river, kept his seat firmly, and exerted his utmost pow ers at the oar, but his nephew started up at sight of the enemy, seized his rifle and was in the act of levelling® it, when he received a ball in the breast, and fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Unfortunately, his oar fell into the river, and the Captain, having no one to pull against him, rather urged the boat nearer to the hostile shore than otherwise.. He quickly seized a plank, however, and giv- ing his own oar to another of the crew, he took the station which his nephew had held, and unhurt by the shower of bullets which flew around him, continued to exert himself, until the boat had reached a more respectable distance. He then,, for the first time, looked around him in order to observe the condition of the crew. His nephew lay in his blood, perfectly lifeless; the horses had been all killed or mortally wounded.. Some 176 WESTERN ADVENTURE. had fallen overboard; others were struggling violently, and causing their frail bark to dip water so abundantly, as to excite the most serious apprehensions. But the crew presented the most singular spectacle. A captain, who had served with reputation in the continental army, seem- ed now totally bereft of his faculties. He lay upon his back in the bottom of the boat, with hands uplifted and a countenance in which terror w r as personified, exclaiming in a tone of despair, “Oh Lord! Oh Lord!” A Dutchman, whose weight might amount to about three hundred pounds, was anxiously engaged in endeavoring to find shelter for his bulky person, which, from the lowness of the gunnels, was a very difficult undertaking. In spite of his utmost efforts, a portion of his posterial luxuriance, appeared above the gunnel, and afforded a mark to the enemy, which brought a constant shower of balls around it. «In vain he shifted his position. The hump still appear- ed, and the balls still flew around it, until the Dutchman -osing ail patience, r .sed his head above the gunnel, and in a tone of querulous remonstrance, called out, “oh now! quit tat tamned nonsense, tere, will you!” Not a shot was fired from the boat. At one time, attei they had partly regained the current, Captain Ward attempted to bring his rifle to bear upon them, but so violent was the agitation of the boat, from the furious struggles of the horses, that he could not steady his piece within twenty yards of the ene- my$ and quickly laying it aside, returned to the car. The Indians followed them down the river for more than an hour, but having no canoes, they did not attempt to board; and as the boat was at length transferred to the opposite side of the river, they at length abandoned the pursuit and disappeared. None of the crew, save the young man already mentioned, were hurt, although the Dutchman’s seat of honor served as a target for the space of an hour, and the continental captain was deeply mortified at the sudden, and, as he said, “unaccountable” panic which had seized him. Captain Ward himself was protected by a post, which had been fastened to the gunnel, and behind which he sat while rowing. In the month of August, 1786, Mr. Francis Dow ning, FRANCIS DOWJNlA’