Class 
 Book 
 
 PRESENTED BY^ 
 
CRCCME 
 
 TllK YOU^'G liUNTEK. 
 
LIFE OF 
 
 D A N I E L' B N E 
 
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 DAYTON. O: 
 
 ■ELLS, MARQUIS & COMPANY, 
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 Entered according to Act of Cong-ress, in the ye&r 1856, 
 
 By B. F. ells, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Ohio. 
 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Among the namesj that grace the annals 
 of America pioneer-life, — of great hunters, 
 and Indian warriors, — there are none more 
 conspicuous, more famed for daring deeds, for 
 bold adventure; none more sure of immortal 
 renown, none that will be cherished by a more 
 lively interest by posterity, than Daniel Boone. 
 History gives us the names of many, who 
 were as shrewd and as cunning, in Indian 
 warfkre, as boldly adventurous, in pioneer life, 
 as Daniel Boone; but none, whose whole 
 character was so remarkable on this behalf, 
 whose whole life was so entirely filled with 
 thrilling incidents. 5 
 
VI Pr^EFACE. 
 
 No ladian ever loved more dearly his 
 wigwam and wilderness home, none ever fled 
 more precipitately from the aggressive foot of 
 the white man, and his civilized life, than 
 Daniel Boone. The panorama of his life, is 
 a picture, on which admiring millions will yet 
 gaze with infinite delight. However, refined 
 the life, the reader may lead, however rich 
 the moral and intellectual feasts of his ban- 
 queting-house, yet will he rise from the peru- 
 sal of the life of this adventurous child of the 
 wilderness, with as much complacent pleasure, 
 as if he had been roaming over the amazing 
 achievements of Napoleon, or the god-like 
 deeds of the great Washington. 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS, 
 
 THE YOUNG HUNTER, Frontispiece. 
 
 Page. 
 SHOOTING THE PANTHER, 12 
 
 INDIAN CHIEF IN FULL DRESS, 16 
 
 SHINING THE EYES, 24 
 
 INDIANS AND WHITES TRADING, .... 28 
 
 A HERD OF BUFFALO, 86 
 
 BUFFALO SHOOTING, 42 
 
 BUFFALO HUNTING, 50 
 
 A SAVAGE WITH HIS WAR CLUB, 58 
 
 BUILDING A FORT, 72 
 
 A WAR PARTY OF INDIANS, SO 
 
 INDIAN POW-WOW, 94 
 
 BLACKFOOT INDIANS, 100 
 
 C AM ANCHE INDIANS, 100 
 
 INDIAN BURYING GROUND, . . . .104 
 
 SCALP DANCE, 104 
 
 INDIANS BURNING A PRISONER, ... 110 
 
 DEFENCE OF THE FORT, 116 
 
 INDIAN WARRIOR, 124 
 
 7 
 
8 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 COLONEL GEORGE CLARKE, .... 128 
 
 EXPEDITION AGAINST THE INDIANS, . . 184 
 
 GENERAL ARTHUR ST. CLAIR, ... 142 
 
 THE DEATH OF TECUMSEH, 148 
 
 GEN. ANTHONY WAYNE, 158 
 
 WAYN-E'S VICTORY, 164 
 
 SHOOTING A WILD CAT, 170 
 
 KILLING THE BEAR, 176 
 
 AUDUBON, THE NATURALIST, .... 180 
 
 BOONE ESCAPING, 184 
 
 A CHIEF WITH HIS CALUMET OR PIPE OF PEACE, 190 
 
 PORTRAIT OF BOONE, 194 
 
 BOONE TAKEN PRISONER, . . . .202 
 
 AN INDIAN CHIEF WITH STONE TOMAHAWK, . 236 
 AN INDIAN CHIEF WITH HIS WILD BOAR TEETH 
 
 NECKLACE, .... 276 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Some men choose to live in crowded cities ; — 
 others are pleased with the peaceful quiet of a 
 country farm ; while some love to roam through 
 wild forests, and ma^ their homes in the 
 wilderness. The man of^whom I shall now 
 speak was one of this last class. Perhaps 
 you never heard of Daniel Boone, the Kentucky 
 rifle-man. If not, then I have a strange and 
 interesting story to tell you. 
 
 If, when a child was born, we knew that he 
 was to become a remarkable man, the time 
 and place of his birth would, perhaps, be 
 always remembered. But as this can not be 
 known, great mistakes are often made on 
 
10 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 these points. As to the time \\'hen Daniel 
 Boone was born, there is no difficulty; but 
 people have fallen into many blunders about 
 the place. Some have said that he was born 
 in England, before his parents left that coun- 
 try ; others that he came into this world during 
 the passage of his parents across the Atlantic. 
 One has told us that he was born in Virginia ; 
 another in Maryland ; while many have stated 
 that he was a native of North Carohna. These 
 are all mistakes. Daniel Boone was born in 
 the year 1746, in Bucks county, in the state 
 of Pennsylvania. 
 
 From some cause or^j^ther, when the boy 
 was but three years «, his parents moved 
 from this home, ancy settled upon the Schuyl- 
 kill river, not far from the town of Reading. 
 Here they lived for ten years; and it was 
 during this time that their son Daniel began 
 to show his passion for hunting. He was 
 scarcely able to cany a gun, when he was 
 shooting all the squirrels, raccoons, and even 
 wild cats, (it is said), that he could find in 
 that region. As he grew older, his courage 
 increased, and then we find him amusing him- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 11 
 
 self with higher game. Other lads in the 
 neighborhood, were soon taught by him the 
 use of the rifle, and were then able to join 
 him in his adventures. On one occasion, they 
 all started out for a hunt, and after amusing 
 themselves till it was almost dark, were return- 
 ing homeward, when suddenly a wild cry was 
 heard in the woods. The boys screamed out, 
 " a panther ! a panther ! " and ran off as fast 
 as they could. Boone stood firmly, looking 
 around for the animaL It was a panther 
 indeed. His eye lighted upon him just in the 
 act of springing toward him : in an instant he 
 leveled his rifle, and shot him through the 
 heart. 
 
 But this sort of sport -was not enough for 
 him. He seemed resolved to go away from 
 men, and live in the forest with these animals. 
 One morning he started off as usual, with his 
 rifle and dog. Night came on, but Daniel did 
 not return to his home. Another day and 
 night passed, and still the boy did not make 
 his appearance. His parents were now greatly 
 aiamiccL The neighbors joined them in mak- 
 ing search for the lad. After wandering about 
 
 / / ' ' 
 
A HERD OF DEEE.— 12. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 13 
 
 a great while, tbey at length saw smoke rising 
 from a cabin in the distance. Upon reaching 
 it, they found the boy. The floor of the 
 cabin was covered with the skins of such 
 animals as he had slain, and pieces of meat 
 were roasting before the fire for his supper. 
 Here, at a distance of three miles from any 
 settlement, he had built his cabin of sod and 
 branches, and sheltered himself in the wil- 
 derness. 
 
 It was while his father was living on the 
 head-waters of the Schuylkill, that young 
 Boone received, so far as we know, all his 
 education. Short indeed were his schoolboy 
 days. It happened that an Irish school- 
 master, strolled into the settlement, and, by 
 the advice of Mr. Boone and other parents, 
 opened a school in the neighborhood. It was 
 not then as it is now. Good school-houses 
 were not scattered over the land; nor were 
 schoolmasters always able to teach their pupils. 
 The school-house where the boys of the settle- 
 ment went, was a log cabin, built in the midst 
 of the woods. The schoolmaster was a strange 
 man : sometimes good-humored, and then 
 
14 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 indulging the lads ; sometimes surly and ill- 
 natured, and then beating them severely. It 
 was his usual custom, after hearing the first 
 lessons of the morning, to allow the children 
 to be out for a half hour at play, during which 
 time he strolled off to refresh himself from 
 his labors. He always walked in the same 
 direction, and the boys thought that after his 
 return, when they were called in, he was gen- 
 erally more cruel than ever. They were 
 whipped more severely, and oftentimes with- 
 out any cause. They observed this, but did 
 not know the meaning of it. One morning 
 young Boone asked that he might go out, 
 and had scarcely left the school-room, when 
 he saw a squirrel running over the trunk of a 
 fallen tree. True to his nature, he instantly 
 gave chase, until at last the squirrel darted 
 into a bower of vines and branches. Boone 
 thrust his hand in, and, to his surprise, laid 
 hold of a bottle of whisky. This was in the 
 direction of his master's morning walks, and 
 he thought now that he understood the secret 
 of much of his ill-nature. He returned to 
 the school-room ; but when they were dismissed 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 15 
 
 for that day, he told some of the larger l:ys 
 of his discovery. Their plan was soon ar- 
 ranged. Early the next morning a bottle of 
 whisky, having tartar emetic in it, was placed 
 in the bower, and the other bottle thrown 
 away. At the usual hour, the lads were 
 sent out to play, and their master started 
 on his walk. But their play was to come 
 afterward : they longed for the master to re- 
 turn. At length they were called in, and in a 
 little time saw the success of their experiment. 
 The master began to look pale and sick, yet 
 still went on with his work. Several boys 
 were called up, one after the other, to recite 
 lessons, and all whipped soundly, whether right 
 or wrong. At last young Boone was called 
 out to answer questions in arithmetic. He 
 came forward with his slate and pencil, and 
 the master began : " If you subtract six from 
 nine, what remains?" said he. "Three, sir," 
 said Boone. "Very good," said the master; 
 " now let us come to fractions. If you take 
 three-quarters from a whole number, what re- 
 mains ? " — " The whole, sir," answered Boone. 
 " You blockhead ! " cried the master, beating 
 

 AN INDIAN CHIEF IN FULL DEESS.— 16. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 17 
 
 him, ^* you stupid little fool, how can you show 
 that?"— "If I take one bottle of whisky," 
 said Boone, "and put in its place another in 
 which I have mixed an emetic, the whole will 
 remain, if nobody drinks it ! " The Irishman, 
 dreadfully sick, was now doubly enraged. He 
 seized Boone, and commenced beating him : 
 the children shouted and roared: the scuffle 
 continuefl, until Boone knocked the master 
 down upon the floor, and rushed out of the 
 room. It was a day of freedom now for the 
 lads. The story soon ran through the neigh- 
 borhood; Boone was rebuked by his parents, 
 but the schoolmaster was dismissed, and thus 
 ended the boy's education. 
 
 Thus freed from school, he now returned 
 more ardently than ever to his favorite pursuit. 
 His dog and rifle were his constant companions, 
 and day after day he started from home, only 
 to roam through the forest. Hunting seemed 
 to be the only business of his life; and he 
 was never so happy as when at night he came 
 home laden with game. He was an untiring 
 wanderer. I do not know but that this 
 passion for roaming was in some degree in- 
 2 
 
18 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 herited by Daniel Boone. His father had 
 already had three homes: one in England, 
 one in Bucks county, and another on the 
 Schuylkill ; and he now thought of removing 
 further. It is said that the passion of Daniel 
 for hunting was one cause which prompted his 
 father to think of this. Land was becoming 
 scarce, the neighborhood a little crowded, and 
 game less abundant ; and, to mend matters, he 
 began to cast his eyes around for a new home. 
 He was not long in choosing one. He had 
 heard of a rich and beautiful country on the 
 banks of the Yadkin river in North Carolina, 
 and he determined that this should be the 
 next resting-place for him and his household. 
 All things were made ready as soon as 
 possible, and the journey commenced. It was 
 a fine spring morning, when the father started 
 for his new home, with his wife an 1 children, 
 his flocks and herds. Their journey lay hun- 
 dreds of miles through a trackless wilderness ; 
 yet with cheerful and fearless hearts they 
 pressed onward. When hungry, they feasted 
 upon venison and wild turkeys, ( for Daniel, 
 with his rifle, was in company) ; when thirsty, 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 19 
 
 they found cool springs of water to refresh them 
 by the way ; when wearied at night, they laid 
 themselves down and slept under the wide- 
 spreading branches of the forest. At length 
 they reached the land they looked for, and 
 the father found it to be ail that he expected. 
 The woods in that region were unbroken ; no 
 man seemed yet to have found them. Land 
 was soon cleared, a cabin built, and the father 
 in a little time found himself once more 
 happily settled with his family. 
 
 The old man with his other sons went busily 
 X) the work of making a farm. As for 
 Daniel, they knew it was idle to expect his 
 belp in such employment, and therefore lefl 
 him to roam about with his rifle. This was a 
 glorious country for the youth; wild woods 
 were all around him, and the game, not yet 
 having learned to fear the crack of the rifle 
 wandered fearlessly through them. This he 
 thought was, of aU places, the home for him. 
 I hope you will not think he was the idle 
 and useless boy of the family, for it was not 
 so. While the farm was improving, Daniel 
 was supplying the family with provisions. The 
 
20 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 table at home was always filled with game, 
 and they had enough and to spare. Their 
 house became known as a warm-hearted and 
 hospitable abode; for the wayfaring wanderer, 
 when lost in the woods, was sure to find here 
 a welcome, a shelter, and an abundance. Then, 
 too, if money was wanted in the family, the 
 peltries of the animals shot by Daniel sup- 
 plied it : so that he was, in a large degree, 
 the supporter of the household. In this way 
 years rolled onward — the farm still enlarging 
 and improving, Daniel still hunting, and the 
 home one of constant peace, happiness, and 
 plenty. 
 
 At length the story of the success and com- 
 fort of the family brought neighbors around 
 them. Different parts of the forests began to 
 be cleared; smoke was soon seen rising from 
 new cabins, and the sharp crack of other rifles 
 than Daniel's was sometimes heard in the 
 morning. This grieved him sadly. Most 
 people would have been pleased to find neigh- 
 bors in the loneliness of the woods ; but what 
 pleased others did not please him. They were 
 crowding upon him; they were driving away 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 21 
 
 bis game : this was his trouble. But, after 
 all, there was one good farmer who came into 
 the region and made his settlement: which 
 settlement, as it turned out, proved a happy 
 thing for Daniel. This was a very worthy man 
 named Bryan. He cleared his land, built his 
 cabin upon a sloping hill, not very far from 
 Mr. Boone's, and before a great while, by dint 
 of industry, had a good farm of more than a 
 hundred acres. This farm was beautifully 
 situated. A pretty stream of water almost 
 encircled it. On the banks of the Schuylkill, 
 Daniel Boone found all his education^ such as 
 it was ; on the banks of the Yadkin he found 
 something far better. I must tell you now 
 of a very strange adventure. 
 
 One evening, with another young friend, he 
 started out upon what is called a "fire-hunt." 
 Perhaps you do not know what this means. 
 I will explain it to you. Two people are 
 always necessary for a fire-hunt. One goes 
 before, carrying a blazing torch of pitch-pine 
 wood (or lightwood, as it is called in the 
 southern country), while the other follows 
 behind with his rifle. In this way the two 
 
22 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP 
 
 hunters move through the forests. When an 
 animal is startled, he will stand gazing at the 
 light, and his eyes may be seen shining 
 distinctly : this is called " shining the eyes." 
 The hunter with the rifle, thus seeing him, 
 while the other " shines " him, levels his gun 
 with steady aim, and has a fair shot. This 
 mode of hunting is still practiced in many 
 parts of our country, and is every where 
 known as a fire-hunt. 
 
 Boone, with his companion, started out upon 
 such a hunt, and very soon reached the woods 
 skirting the lower end of Mr. Bryan's farm. 
 It seems they were on horseback, Boone being 
 behind with the rifle. They had not gone 
 far when his companion reined up his horse, 
 and two eyes were seen distinctly shining. 
 Boone leveled his rifle, but something pre- 
 vented his firing. The animal darted off. 
 Boone leaped from his horse, left his compan- 
 ion, and instantly dashed after it. It was too 
 dark to see plainly, still he pursued ; he was 
 close upon its track, when a fence coming in 
 the way, the animal leaped it with a clear 
 bound. Boone climbed over as fast as he 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 23 
 
 could with his rifle, but the game had got 
 ahead. Nothing daunted by this, he pushed 
 on, until he found hinaself at last not very 
 far from Mr. Bryan's home. But the animal 
 was gone. It was a strange chase. He de- 
 termined to go into Mr. Bryan's house, and 
 tell his adventure. As he drew near, the dogs 
 raised a loud barking, the master came out, 
 bade him welcome, and carried him into the 
 house. Mr. Bryan had scarcely introduced him 
 to his family, as "the son of his neighbor 
 Boone," when suddenly the door of the room 
 was burst open, and in rushed a little lad of 
 seven, followed by a girl of sixteen years, 
 crying out, " father ! father ! sister is 
 frightened to death! She went down to the 
 river, and was chased by a panther!" The 
 hunter and his game had met. There stood 
 Boone, leaning upon his rifle, and Rebecca 
 Bryan before him, gasping for breath. From 
 that moment he continued to pursue it; far- 
 mer Bryant's house became a favorite resort 
 for him; he loved it as well as the woods. 
 The business was now changed : Rebecca Bryan 
 completely " shined his eyes ; " and after a 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 25 
 
 time, to the great joy of themselves, and 
 both families, Daniel Boone and Eebecca 
 Bryan were carried. It proved, as you will 
 see, a very happy marriage for both parties. 
 Being now a married man, it became Daniel 
 Boone's duty to seek a new home for himself 
 In a little time, therefore, he left his wife, and 
 wandered into the unsettled parts of North 
 Carohna in search of one. After moving about 
 for some time, he found, upon the head waters 
 of the Yadkin, a rich soil, covered with a 
 heavy and once more unbroken forest. " Here," 
 thought Daniel Boone, "is the resting-place 
 for me ; here Rebecca Bryan and myself may 
 be happy : this shall be our home." He re- 
 turned to his wife, and she, with a cheerful 
 heart, joined in all his plans. With tears in 
 her eyes, she bade farewell to her friends; 
 yet, with a light spirit, she started off with 
 her husband A clearing in the woods was 
 soon made, a log cabin of his own soon built, 
 and a portion of ground planted. Boone 
 seemed now to have thought that he must 
 do something more than use his rifle. He 
 was to make a home for his wife ; and busied 
 
26 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 himself, accordingly, in enlarging his farm as 
 fast as he could, and industriously cultivating 
 it. Still, on his busiest day, he would find a 
 leisure hour to saunter with his gun to the 
 woods, and was sure never to return without 
 game. His own table was loaded with it, as 
 when at Iiis father's, and his house, like his 
 father's, soon became known as a warm and 
 kind shelter for the wandering traveler. In 
 this industrious and quiet way of farming and 
 hunting, years were spent, and Daniel Boone 
 was contented and happy. Several little chil- 
 dren were now added to his group ; and, with 
 his wife, his children, and his rifle, for com- 
 panions, he felt that all was well. 
 
 But his peace was at length disturbed once 
 more. His old troubles pursued him; men 
 again began to come near. The crash of 
 falling trees was heard, as the new settlers 
 leveled the forests; huts were seen springing 
 up all around him ; other hunters were roam- 
 ing through the woods, and other dogs than 
 his were barking. This was more than he was 
 willing to bear. Happy as he had made his 
 home, he determined to leave it, and find 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 27 
 
 another in the wilderness, where he could 
 have that wilderness to himself. For some 
 time he was at a loss to know where to go ; 
 yet his heart was fixed in the determination 
 to move. The circumstances which pointed 
 him to his new home, and where that new 
 home was made, you may learn in the next 
 chapter. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 29 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 My young friends all know where the state 
 of Kentucky is situated. It is hardly necessary 
 for me to say, that at the time of which I am 
 writing, that region was an unbroken wilderness. 
 
 It was in the year 1754 that a white man 
 first visited Kentucky. This was James 
 M'Bride. In company with several others 
 during that year, he was passing down the 
 Ohio, when he discovered the mouth of Ken- 
 tucky river, and made a landing. Near the 
 spot where he landed, he cut upon a tree the 
 first letters of his name ; and these letters, it 
 is said, could be seen and distinctly read for 
 many years afterward. With his companions, 
 he wandered through the wilderness ; the 
 country struck them all as being remarkably 
 beautiful. It is not wonderful, then, that when 
 they returned home, they were filled with fine 
 stories about the new region. They declared 
 that it was "the best tract of land in Norfih 
 America, and probably in the world." 
 
30 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 In spite of their pleasant stories, however, 
 it was a long time before any one was dis- 
 posed to follow in their track. At length, 
 Doctor Walker, of Virginia, with a number of 
 friends, started upon a western tour of discov- 
 ery. Some say that he was in search of the 
 Ohio river particularly ; others that he went 
 merely to collect sti-ange plants and flowers. 
 Be this as it may, he with his party wandered 
 through Powell's Valley, and passed the moun- 
 tains at what is called the Cumberland Gap. 
 They then crossed the Cumberland river, and 
 roaming on through the forests, at length, 
 after much fatigue and suffering, reached the 
 Big Sandy. The country was beautiful, yet 
 they were too much worn out to go further, 
 and from this point began to return homewaid. 
 They had suffered more than M'Bride, and 
 therefore their story was not so bright as his ; 
 yet they gave a very pleasant account of the 
 new country. 
 
 No one yet, however, seemed ready to make 
 his home in Kentucky; and accident at last 
 seems to have thrown one man into that 
 country, whose story, upon his return, made 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 31 
 
 some anxious to go there. This was John 
 Finley, a backwoodsman of North Carolina. 
 He was in the habit of roving about and 
 trading with the Indians. In the year 1767, 
 he, with certain companions as fearless as 
 himself, led on from place to place by the 
 course of trade, wandered far into Kentucky. 
 Here he remained for some time. It was a 
 very beautiful, yet, as he learned also, a very 
 dangerous country. No Indian tribe lived 
 there, but all the tribes roamed over it as a 
 hunting ground. Upon these hunts, the fierce 
 and warlike people would often meet and wage 
 their bloody battles. These fights were so 
 frequent and so awful, that the region was 
 known by the name of the ^' Dark and Bloody 
 Ground." In spite of danger, Finley lived 
 there, until at last the traders and the In- 
 dians began to quarrel, and, for safety's sake, 
 he was forced to run off. He returned to 
 North Carolina, filled ivith wonderful stories. 
 Sights like those on the "Dark and Bloody 
 Ground," were no where to be seen. The land 
 was rich, and covered with trees and flowers ; 
 there were lofty mountains, beautiful valleys, 
 
32 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and clear streams, throughout it. Then he 
 spoke of the strange caves in the mountains ; 
 of curious salt springs; of the foot-prints of 
 men to be seen distinctly upon the solid rocks ; 
 of the strange figures of huge animals on 
 the sides -of the high cliffs. Game of all sorts 
 was abundant, from the buffalo down to the 
 partridge. There was no country (he declared) 
 like Kain-tuck-kee."*^ His tale was so wonder- 
 ful, that people could not well help listening 
 to it. 
 
 Whether John Finley was led there by a 
 knowledge of the man's character, or whether 
 it was an accident, it so happened, that 
 about a year after his return, he wandered into 
 the neighborhood of Daniel Boone's home, It 
 was not long before he fell in with Boone, 
 and completely charmed him with his stories. 
 Boone had known some sport in forests him- 
 self, but the adventures of Finley were to 
 him marvelous. He was so much pleased with 
 the man, that he invited him, as it was now 
 winter, to come to his house, and make his 
 home there through the season. The invitation 
 
 * This was the Indian name for the country. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 33 
 
 was gladly accepted; and in the cabin of 
 Boone, again and again was the wild beauty 
 of the " Dark and Bloody Ground " laid be- 
 fore him. There was no end to Finley's story 
 of this region. The wind whistled without, 
 but the fire blazed cheerfully within; and 
 here they sat, on many a night, almost till 
 dawn, Finley talking, and Boone listening. The 
 end of all this was, that they determined, when 
 spring opened, to go to Kentucky. Boone 
 knew that there were hardships and perils in 
 the way, and Finley had practically felt them ; 
 but what were dangers or difficulties to these 
 fearless men ? The first of May was agreed 
 upon as the day for starting, and Finley was 
 then again to meet Boone at his house. 
 
 It is not strange that other bold men, who 
 heard Finley's stories, were seized with the 
 same desire for going west. Indeed, Boone 
 helped to give them that desire, knowing that 
 a few brave spirits would be of great service 
 in the new country. He talked, therefore, 
 warmly of the comforts of a new home in 
 the forest, where there was an abundance of 
 game, and a complete absence of towns and 
 8 
 
34 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 villnges. Accordingly, on the first of May, 
 1779, when Finley repaired to Boone's house, 
 he found four other's ready for the adventure : 
 these were John Stewart, Joseph Holden, 
 James Monay, and William Cool. The people 
 iu the neighborhood, learning what was going 
 on, had likewise gathered to look with sur- 
 prise upon these six men. What could prompt 
 men to leave the comforts of their quiet homes, 
 and wander off into the wilderness? They 
 surely were crazy. Boone was much beloved 
 as a kind neighbor, and they mourned most 
 over his madness. Nothing daunted by all 
 this, they were then ready for a start, and 
 were now on the point of leaving. We are 
 told that, with tears in his eyes, Daniel Boone 
 kissed his wife and children ; and if the story 
 be true, I love him the more for it. His 
 spirit was beating for his new hunting-forests; 
 he could face all the dangers of the "Dark 
 and Bloody Ground," but then it was doubtful 
 whether he was not parting with his wife and 
 children forever. At all events, he was leaving 
 them for months, perhaps for years — he knew 
 not how Ion si: — and who can wonder that tears 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 35 
 
 stood in his eyes ? Each man shouldered his 
 rifle, shot-bag, powder-horn, and knapsack, and 
 off they started — every neighbor straining his 
 oyes after them as fur as he could see, as the 
 men upon whom he was looking for the last 
 time. 
 
 For two or three days they saw nothing 
 new, for they were passing over their old 
 hunting-grounds. After this, they came to a 
 wild and trackless region, and saw from time 
 to time the lofty ridge of mountains which 
 separated them from the western country. In 
 two days more, the provisions with which they 
 had started gave out, and the first thing to 
 be done was to find a fresh supply. Accord- 
 ingly they halted, chose a suitable spot for 
 their camp, and part of them commenced 
 building it of logs and branches; the others 
 went in search of game. It was impossible for 
 such men to starve in such a reg .>:i ; game 
 was abundant. The hunters returned toward 
 night, with several deer and wild turkeys. 
 The camp was finished, a bright fire was burn- 
 ing, and in a little time the venison was 
 dressed, cooked, and eaten. The supper was 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 37 
 
 scarcely finished, when they saw dark clouds 
 gathering, and presently they were visited by 
 a tremendous thunder-storm. The sharp light- 
 ning flashed through the woods, and the rain 
 poured down in torrents ; yet, in their camp 
 they fearlessly sheltered themselves, the 
 branches covering them from the rain. A 
 man can scarcely be placed during a thunder- 
 storm in a more dangerous place than a forest ; 
 every thing is a mark for the lightning; yet 
 these men were calm and self-possessed, and 
 were mercifully protected. 
 
 The storm having passed over, they made 
 their arrangements for the night. For safe- 
 ty's sake, two men were to keep a constant 
 watch, while the others slept ; and in this duty 
 of watching, they were to take turns. About 
 midnight, while Boone and Holden were keep- 
 ing the watch, a sharp shrill cry was heard 
 in the woods. They sprang to their feet. 
 "What noise is that?" said Holden. The 
 sound was familiar to Boone. *'Be still," 
 said he; "it is only a panther; come along 
 with me." Moving cautiously from the camp, 
 they listened again for the cry. Once more 
 
38 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 they heard it. Creeping through the wooas 
 in the direction of the sound, they at length 
 saw through the darkness the wild, glaring 
 eyes of the animal. Boone leveled his rifle 
 with steady aim and fired. With a wild yell 
 the panther fell to the ground, and beat a 
 retreat. Both were satisfied that the ball had 
 struck him, and returned again to the camp. 
 The crack of the rifle had awakened their 
 companions ; the adventure was made known 
 to them, and they went quietly to asleep gain, 
 satisfied that for the rest of the night, at 
 least, that panther would not disturb them. 
 
 The next day was a very busy one. 
 Finding game so plenty in the neighborhood, 
 they determined to lay in a good supply. 
 Part of them were, therefore out in the woods, 
 hunting, while the rest were in the camp, 
 smoking, drying, and packing the venison for 
 the journey. Fatigued with these labors, when 
 night came they gladly laid themselves down, 
 and, like wearied men, slept soundly. 
 
 By the first ray of the morning's light the 
 camp was stirring. Shouldering their rifles and 
 knapsacks, they started on their way. In a 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 39 
 
 little time they found a dead panther. Boone, 
 declared this was his panther ; the animal was 
 killed with one ball, and .^y comparing that 
 ball with those in his shot-bag, he found they 
 were of the same size. In two t)r three days 
 they reached the foot of the mountains, and 
 began to ascend. Their journey was now rough 
 and wearisome, and they made slow progress. 
 To any men but these, the mountains might 
 have proved impassable ; but they were bent 
 upon finding the new hunting-grounds of Ken- 
 Ntucky, and nothing could keep them back. 
 After climbing the hills day after day, they 
 found once more that their provisions were 
 gone, and were again forced to h;ilt. Their 
 camp was built on the side of the mountain, 
 and their rifles easily supplied their wants. 
 The journey was vigorously renewed, and after 
 many days of further struggling, they at 
 length found themselves on the tops of the 
 Alleghany ridge. Here they were, upon Cum- 
 berland mountain. At this place they halted 
 once more, to look down upon the magnificent 
 prospect which was spread out before them. 
 This was their fii'st view of the new region, 
 
40 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and they felt that it was all that Finley had 
 described it to be. It was indeed a glorious 
 country. The land was covered with trees and 
 flowers ; there were the rolling hills, and the 
 beautiful valleys, and the clear sparkUng 
 streams, of which he had spoken. 
 
 The prospect was too beautiful to allow them 
 to tarry long : they panted to be in that coun- 
 try. With more earnest desires than ever, 
 they commenced descending the mountains. 
 This part of the journey was comparatively 
 easy. In a few days more they reached the 
 western base of the hills, and entered a lovely 
 plain. Here, for the first time, the new 
 hunters saw the finest of western game — a 
 herd of buffaloes. From the skirt of the wood 
 at the end of the plain, a countless troop of 
 these animals came rushing over it. The men 
 were delighted; they had heard of these 
 noble beasts of the forest, but none of them, 
 except Finley, had ever seen one. As the 
 mass came tramping toward them, they stood 
 gazing in astonishment. Finley who knew 
 that men were sometimes trampled to death 
 by these moving troops, kept his eye steadily 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 41 
 
 upon tlie herd until the foremost was within 
 rifle-shot ; he then leveled his gun, and the 
 leader fell dead. With a wild bellow the herd 
 parted on each side of the fdlen animal, and 
 went scampering through the plain. There 
 seemed no end to the number, as they still 
 came rushing from the wood. The mass 
 appeared closing again in a solid body, when 
 he seized Holden's rifle, and shot another. 
 Now they were completely routed; branching 
 off on the two sides of the plain, they went 
 bellowing and tearing past them. " An amaz* 
 ing country, this!" cried Boone; "who ever 
 beheld such an abundance ? " The camp was 
 once more soon built, a blazing fire made, and, 
 for the first time in their lives, five of these 
 men sat down to a supper of buffalo meat. 
 They talked of their new country, the quantity 
 of game, and how joyously they would roam 
 through the huge forests, until the night had 
 worn far away. 
 
 The next morning, after breakfast, they 
 packed up such portions of the animals as they 
 could readily carry, and resumed their march. 
 In a little time they reached Red river. Here 
 
BUFFALO SHOOTING.-42. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 43 
 
 Finley began to feel more at home, for on 
 this river he had lived. Following the course 
 of the stream, ere long he came to the place 
 which had been his trading-post with the In- 
 dians. They had been more than a month 
 reaching this point, and, naturally enough, were 
 wearied. Finley, too, could no longer guide 
 them; and here, for the present, they deter- 
 mined to halt again. It was now the seventh 
 day of June, 
 
 As this was to be their head-quarters for 
 some time, they built at once a substantial log 
 cabin. They were now fairly in the wilds of 
 Kentucky ; and remembering that the whole 
 region was the fighting-ground of the wander- 
 ing Indians, the cabin was built not only to 
 protect them from the weather, but to answer 
 as a sort of fort against the savages. This 
 shelter being provided, their whole time now 
 was given to hunting and exploring the coun- 
 try. Hunting was a pastime, indeed, the game 
 was so abundant. They could look out upon 
 herds of buffaloes scattered through the cane- 
 brakes, browsing upon the leaves of the cane, 
 or cropping the tall grass; the deer bounded 
 
44 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fearlessly by the very door of their hut, and 
 wild turkeys were to be found every where. 
 Every thing was in a state of nature; the 
 animals had not yet learned to be afraid of 
 man. Of course, they did not suffer with 
 hunger : provisions of the finest kind were 
 ever in their cabin. But the buffaloes pro- 
 vided them with more than food. From time 
 to time, as they needed moccasins for their 
 feet, his skin supplied them; and when at 
 night they felt the dampness of the weather, 
 his hide was the blanket in which they wrapped 
 themselves and slept soundly. 
 
 The country, as they wandered through it, 
 struck them as beautiful indeed. There were 
 the lofty trees of the forest, with no under- 
 growth except the cane, the grass, and the 
 flowers. They seemed to have been planted 
 by the hand of man at regular distances. 
 Clear streams were seen winding through 
 lovely meadows, surrounded by the gently- 
 sloping hills ; and the fearless buffalo and deer 
 were their companions every hour. In theii 
 wanderings they came several times to hard 
 and well-tramped roads. It was by following 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 45 
 
 these that they discovered many of the salt 
 Bprings or licks where salt is made even now. 
 The roads to these were worn thus hard by 
 the buffaloes and other animals that were in 
 the habit of visiting the springs. 
 
 The place of Finley's old trading post, where 
 their cabin now stood, seems to have been 
 chosen by him not only as a central point 
 for trade : it was on the side of a finely-sloping 
 hill, and commanded a good view of the coun- 
 try below. The situation was beautiful. Per- 
 haps he chose it when he was a lonely white 
 man in the wilderness, because thence he 
 might readily see the approach of Indians, and 
 make his escape, or perhaps it was the very 
 beauty of the spot that charmed him. He had 
 a love for the beautiful. One day, he and 
 Boone were standing by the door of the cabin. 
 The wind was sighing in the tops of the forest, 
 and while they were listening to the music, 
 they were looking out upon the beautiful re- 
 gion below ; the grass was green, and the 
 bright flowers turned up their leaves to the 
 sun. " Glorious country ! " cried Finley, " this 
 wilderness does indeed blossom like the rose." 
 
46 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Yes," replied Boone, "and who would live 
 amid the barren pine hilLs of North Carolina, 
 to hear the screaming of the jay, and now 
 and then shoot a deer too lean to be eaten ? 
 This is the land for hunters. Here man and 
 beast may grow to their full size." 
 
 In this way, for more than six months, these 
 men fearlessly hunted and roamed through 
 the woods. Contrary to their expectations, 
 through the whole summer they saw no In- 
 dians, nor did they meet with any remarkable 
 adventure. The precaution of a nightly watch 
 was adopted, but they met with no disturb- 
 ance from man or beast They had glorious 
 sport by day, and slept quietly at night. After 
 this, as you will see, they began to meet 
 difficulties. 
 
 On the 22d of December, Boone and Stew- 
 art started off, as they had often done before, 
 upon an exploring tour. After wandering 
 several miles, they pressed their way through 
 a piece of thick woods, and came out upon a 
 boundless open forest. Here they found 
 quantities of persimmon-trees, loaded with 
 ripe fruit, while clusters of wild grapes covered 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 47 
 
 the vines that were hanging from the lofty 
 branches. Flowers were still in bloom, and 
 scented the air; herds of animals might be 
 seen through the forest in every direction : 
 add to this that the day was beautiful, and 
 you will not be surprised to learn that they 
 continued to wander — indeed, that they wan- 
 dered much farther than they supposed. It 
 was nearly dark when they reached the Ken- 
 tucky river, and stood looking upon its rip- 
 pling waters. Perceiving a hill closq by, 
 they cUmbed it, that they might take a better 
 view of the course of the stream. They were 
 now descending, on their way homeward, when 
 suddenly they heard an Indian yell, and out 
 rushed from the canebrake a party of savages. 
 They bad no time for resistance — indeed, time 
 was nothing ; they were overpowered by num- 
 bers. The savages seized them, took away 
 their rifles and ammunition, bound them, and 
 marched them off to their camp. The next 
 morning they started off with their prisoners, 
 the poor fellows not knowing where they were 
 going, or what was to be done to them. They 
 did not know one word of their language, and 
 
48 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 could therefore learn nothing : this much, how- 
 ever, they very well understood — that it would 
 not do to show any signs of fear to the In- 
 dians ; and therefore they went on cheerfully. 
 In a little time they became better acquainted 
 with their captors, and judged, from certain 
 signs, that the Indians themselves had not 
 determined what was to be done. Part 
 seemed to be for sparing them, part for killing ; 
 still their cheerfulness was the same. This 
 apparent fearlessness deceived the Indians; 
 they supposed they were well pleased with 
 their condition, and did not watch them closely. 
 On the seventh night of their march, the sav- 
 ages, as usual, made their camp, and all laid 
 down to sleep. About midnight, Boone touched 
 Stewart, and waked him: now or never was 
 their time. They rose, groped their way to the 
 rifles, and stole from the camp. They hardly 
 dared to look behind them; every sound 
 startled them, even the snapping of the twigs 
 under their feet. Fortunately, it was dark, 
 even if the Indians pursued. They wandered 
 all that night and the whole of the next day, 
 when at last, without meeting a man, they 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE.. 49 
 
 reached their own camp. But what v/ns their 
 surprise on finding the camp plundered, and 
 not one of their companions to be seen ? What 
 had become of them ? Perhaps they were 
 prisoners; possibly they were murdered; or 
 it might be that they had started back for 
 North Carolina. They were safe, but where 
 were their comrades? Wearied in body, and 
 tormented with fears for their friends, they 
 commenced preparing for the night. A sound 
 was now heard. They seized their rifles, and 
 stood ready, expecting the Indians. Two men 
 were seen indistinctly approaching. "Who 
 comes there ? " cried Boone. " White men and 
 friends," was the answer. Boone knew the 
 voice. In an instant more, his brother Squire 
 Boone, wiLh another man, entered the cabin. 
 These two men had set out from Carolina for 
 the purpose of reaching them, and had for 
 days been wandering in search of their camp. 
 It was a joyous meeting — the more joyous 
 because unexpected. Big tears were again in 
 Daniel Boone's eyes when hok hoard, from his 
 brother, that his wife and children were w^ell. 
 4 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 51 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 When Squire Boone had told his brother all 
 the news of home, it became his turn to be 
 a listener, while Daniel talked to him of all 
 that happened since they parted. After telling 
 him of the beautiful country, and their happy 
 freedom as they wandered through it for six 
 months, then came the story of his captivity 
 and escape. That escape was but just now 
 made, and with a full hejiit he dwelt on this 
 part of his story. It would not have been 
 strange if Squire had now felt alarmed; but 
 his disposition was much like his brother's : 
 he loved the woods, and was afraid of nothing. 
 
 In a little time the four were once more 
 hunting freely through the forests. Signs of 
 Indians were to be seen around however; 
 possibly they were the very Indians who had 
 captured them. In their wanderings, there- 
 fore, they kept together usually, for self-pro- 
 tection. One day, they started out upon a 
 buffalo-hunt. As they came upon a herd of 
 
52 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 these animals, Stewart lodged his ball in one 
 of them with out bringing him down. The 
 bufTalo went tearing through the forest; and 
 Daniel Boone, with Stewart, forgetful of every 
 thing else, went chasing after him. Naturally 
 enough, like excited men, they had no idea 
 how far they had traveled, until their very 
 weariness reminded them that it was time to 
 turn back. Tired as he was, a harder race was 
 now before Boone. They had scarcely started 
 on their return when a party of Indians rushed 
 from the canebrake, and let fly their arrows. 
 Stewart fell dead on the spot. Boone would 
 have fired his rifle, but he felt it was useless : 
 he could kill but one man ; his only chance of 
 escape was in flight. With Indian yelLs and 
 arrows close behind him, he leaped forward, 
 and, by tremendous exertions, at last distanced 
 his pursuers. When he reached the camp, he 
 fell, completely exhausted 
 
 The party, now cut down to three, was in a 
 little time reduced to two. From some cause 
 or other, they could not tell what — possibly 
 the sad story of Stewart's death, and the 
 fear of lil^e troubles — the companion who had 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 53 
 
 come out with Squire Boone determined upon 
 returning to North Carolina. Very soon, 
 therefore, he left them alone in the wilderness.* 
 It is not strange that, being thus deserted. 
 Squire Boone felt restless and dissatisfied ; the 
 wonder is that Daniel was not dissatisfied 
 likewise. But he was happy and contented, 
 and often struggled to call up the same feel- 
 ings in his brother. "You see," he would 
 often say, " how Uttle nature requires, to be 
 satisfied. Happiness, the companion of con- 
 tent, is rather found in our own breasts than 
 in the enjoyment of external things. I firmly 
 believe it requires but a little philosophy to 
 make a man happy in whatsoever state he is. 
 This consists in a full resignation to the will 
 of Providence; and a resigned soul finds pleas- 
 ure in a path strewed with briars and thorns." 
 This was good counsel, my young friends, and 
 
 * It is said by some that this man did not thus leave them. Their 
 story is, that the three started out upon a hunt ; that this man 
 was peparatcd from the Boones, and became entangled in a sv/amp. 
 The Boones soarehed for liim, but eould not find him. Afterward, 
 they found fragments of his clothes, which convinced them that 
 the poor man had been torn to pieces by wolves. 
 
 Daniel Boone, however, tells a different story. lie says that 
 the man loft them, " and returned home by himseli';" aud 1 have 
 preferred his statement to any other. 
 
54 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 I hope you will bear it ^Yith you through life. 
 It wil serve to comfort you as much as it 
 did Squire Boone. 
 
 To be idle, was to allow time for this mel* 
 ancholy, and Daniel Boone kept his brother 
 constantly busy. The Indians, they were 
 certain, knew where their present camp was, 
 and, therefore they resolved to make another. 
 After choosing their spot, they employed them- 
 selves industriously in erecting another cabin, 
 which might serve to shelter them through the 
 coming winter. This being finished, they went 
 to their old sport, wandering through the 
 woods, admiring the country, and bringing down 
 now and then a buffalo or a deer with their 
 riQes. At night, they would return to their 
 camp, raise a fire, and sit, till long after mid- 
 night, talking of their old home on the Yad- 
 kin. Squire forgot his loneliness, and became 
 quite satisfied. In this way time rolled off 
 until the winter had passed away, and spring 
 appeared. Strangely enough, they had been 
 undisturbed; they had met not even with one 
 Indian. 
 
 They had learned in the wilderness to dis- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 55 
 
 pense well nigh with all comforts; food and 
 sleep were all they expected. But their pow- 
 der and shot were now beginning to run low, 
 and without these they could not long procure 
 food. It was necessary, therefore, to make 
 some arrangements whereby they might obtain 
 a fresh supply. Their plan was soon settled : 
 Squire Boone was to go back to North Caro- 
 lina, and return with ammunition. They 
 supposed horses would be valuable, also, and 
 he was likewise to bring with him two of these. 
 Perilous as the plan was, Squire agreed to bear 
 his part in it, and Daniel as cheerfully con- 
 sented to his. Accordingly, on the first day 
 of May, Squire set off for the Yadkin ; and 
 as if nothing was to be wanting to leave 
 Daniel in perfect loneliness, their only dog 
 followed Squire as he started. 
 
 Here, then, Daniel Boone was left entirely 
 alone. Here he was, a sort of Robinson 
 Crusoe in the wilderness — with this difference, 
 that Robinson was shipwrecked, and had no 
 choice ; while Boone chose the wilderness as 
 his home. He was now completely the " man 
 of the woods '' — far away, hundreds of miles 
 
50 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 from any white settlement. For the first time 
 in his life, according to his own confession, he 
 felt lonely. His mind was filled with the re- 
 membrance of his wife and children, and the 
 thought that he should never see them again- 
 He knew, however, that sad thoughts, when 
 indulged in, will grow rapidly, and therefore 
 dismissed them. 
 
 For safety's sake now, he changed his camp 
 every night, that he might avoid the Indians. 
 Sometimes he slept in the canebrak.e ; some- 
 times he laid himself by the side of a stream ; 
 sometimes in theeaves of the rocks. By day 
 he was surrounded by his old companions the 
 buffaloes and deer, and at night was not un- 
 frequently disturbed by the howling of the 
 wolves. He roamed over many a beautiful 
 tract of country. Now he would ascend a 
 hill and look down upon the scene spread 
 like a map before him; now he would trace 
 some stream to its source, or, following the 
 well-tramped roads of the buffaloes, would find 
 some spring bubbling in the forest. In this 
 vf.yy he moved over a large part of the 
 couLtry. . At one time, he struck the Ohio 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 57 
 
 river, and wandered for days on the banks 
 of that noble stream. It is said, that in his 
 rambles, he one day stood upon the spot 
 where the city of Louisville now stands. He 
 learned to love the woods more than ever. 
 Long after this, he used to declare, that " no 
 crowded city, with all its commerce and noble 
 buildings, could give him as much pleasure as 
 the beauty of Kentucky at that time afforded 
 him." 
 
 Fortunately, he met no Indians. At one 
 time he came in sight of a roving party, but 
 managed to escape from them. The mode in 
 which he escaped will show you his perfect 
 self-possession. He had stopped one day to 
 rest under the shade of a tree, when sud- *' 
 denly he spied the party in the distance. 
 This was enough for him. He immediately 
 commenced his course through the forest, 
 hoping that they had not seen him, and 
 therefore would not pursue. From time to 
 time he would look back through the woods; 
 and at length, became convinced, to his sorrow, 
 that if they had not seen him, they had 
 marked his tracks, and were now on his trail. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 59 
 
 He pushed on for more than two miles, trying 
 in various ways to break the trail, and thus 
 put them out; still, as he looked back he 
 could see they were following him. He was 
 puzzled to know what to do. A happy thought 
 now struck him. He had just passed the brow 
 of a small hill ; the heavy grape-vines were 
 hanging from the trees all around him. He 
 seized one of these, and, bracing himself 
 against the tree with his feet, threw himself 
 as far as he could. This broke the trail, and 
 he now kept directly on from the spot where 
 he landed, in a different direction. The In- 
 dians came up, tracking him as far as the 
 
 the woods; he could see notlnng, out siooa 
 ready with his rifle. Presently an immense 
 she-bear was seen approaching him. Sur- 
 rounded by her young cubs, she was doubly 
 fierce. As she came near, Boone leveled 
 bis rifle and fired. Unfortunately, his steady 
 eye failed this time ; the ball did not strike 
 
60 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 as he had aimed, and the animal pressed for- 
 ward, the more enraged. It was impossible to 
 load again : the bear was upon him ; he had 
 only time to draw his hunting knife from his 
 belt. The bear laid her paws on him, and 
 drew him toward her. The rifle in his left 
 hand was a sort of guard, while with his right 
 he pointed the knife directly for the heart 
 ol' the animal. As she grasped him, the knife 
 entered her body, and she fell dead. 
 
 As the time drew near for the return (as 
 he thought) of his brother, Boone went back 
 to the old camp where they had lodged to- 
 gether, to meet him. Here day after day he 
 kept his look-out — day after day he was dis- 
 ppointed. He began now to be very sad. 
 le du not doubt his brother's fidelity; he 
 new he would not desert him ; but there were 
 any dangers by the way, and perhaps he had 
 3rished. Then he thought, too, of his wife 
 id little ones. If that brother had perished, 
 3 likewise must die without seeing them, 
 ''ithout ammunition to procure food, or defend 
 mself, what could he do? He must die, 
 ere in the wilderness. His brother had been 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. Gl 
 
 absent now nearly three months: surely it 
 was time for his return. Another day of dis- 
 appointment was now drawing to a close, as 
 Boone sat, sick at heart, by the door of his 
 cabin. A sound broke on his ear ; he rose and 
 stood listening, with his hand on the lock of 
 his rifle. It was the tread of horses. The 
 next moment he saw his brother through the 
 forest leading two horses heavily laden. He. 3 
 was abundance of ammunition and other com- 
 forts. The evening of the 27th of July was 
 long after this remembered by Daniel Boone 
 as one of the most joyous of his life. 
 
 A fire was soon made, their supper cooked, 
 and long after midnight they sat talking. 
 Thousands of questions were asked and an- 
 swered, until, wearied out, at , last they lay 
 down to sleep. The sun was high in the 
 heavens when they waked in the morning. 
 
 After breakfast, Daniel Boone proposed a 
 new plan to his brother. Much as he loved 
 the woods, he felt that two men could hardly 
 be safe in the neighborhood of so many In- 
 dians. Moreover he longed to see his family : 
 the stories of Squire had called up fresh 
 
62 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 recollections in his heart. The plan therefore 
 was, to select a suitable spot for their home, 
 then return to Carolina and bring out his 
 family. Squire readily assented to this ; and 
 now they employed themselves fcr several 
 days in hunting and laying in a supply of 
 provisions. This being done, they went to 
 the Cumberland river, and wandered for some 
 time along the stream without finding a place 
 to please them. Roaming about now, they 
 found many new streams, to which, as the first 
 discoverers, they gave names. Anxious as 
 they were to return to the Yadkin, they were 
 in no such hurry as to neglect making a 
 full survey. The whole winter passed away 
 before they pleased themselves. At length 
 they came upon the Kentucky liver. Here 
 the lands delighted them. On the banks of 
 this stream they determined tc make their 
 settlement, and now (March, 1771) turned 
 their faces homeward. As he left the chosen 
 spot, Boone says that "he felt it was a 
 second paradise, and was resolved, at the risk 
 of his life and fortune, that his family should 
 have a home there." 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 63 
 
 As they journeyed eastward from the Kei. 
 tucky river, they occasionally blazed theii 
 pathway (as huntsmen say) that they might 
 find their way back.* It was necessary thus 
 to leave some track through the forest wilder- 
 ness, that they might again reach their chosen 
 spot. Fortunately they met with no Indians. 
 
 We hear of but one adventure on their way 
 homeward. After traveling quietly several 
 days, they were one morning startled by a 
 noise. Presently a herd of bufialoes came 
 rushing and tearing through the forest ; they 
 seemed frantic. The cause of all this was 
 soon seen. A panther, seated upon the back 
 of one of the buffaloes, had plunged his claws 
 and teeth into him. The blood was streaming 
 down his sides, and the poor animal, struggling 
 to shake him oH] rushed into the midst of the 
 herd. This frightened the rest, and they went 
 bellowing and dashing through the woods. 
 Daniel Boone raised his rifle, and sent a ball 
 
 *This mode of marldng their track is often practiocd by hunters 
 in the woods. As they pass through the forest they mark the trees 
 by cutting off a small piece of the baj-k. This enables them 
 again to find the same path^Yay, and is commonly called " blazing 
 the track." 
 
C4 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 through the panther. He fell dead. Not far 
 off they met a pack of wolves, following as 
 usual in the track of the buffaloes. For the 
 fun of seeing them scatter, Squire now fired 
 his rifle, and away they went, scampering in 
 all directions. 
 
 In due time they came to the mountains. 
 After trying to ascend in various places, at 
 length they found a naiTow and rugged gnp, 
 through which wiLh great difficulty they made 
 their way. It was, however, the best pass 
 they could discover, and they blazed their 
 track, that they might find it again. In a 
 little time now, Daniel Boone was again in hiB 
 3abin on the banks of the Yadkin. I need 
 hardly say there was a joyous meeting; he 
 was once more happy in the bosom of his 
 family. He had been absent nearly two years. 
 
 Amid the joys of home, however, he did 
 not forget his chosen spot in Kentucky ; his 
 heart was filled with the thought that his 
 happy home might be happier there. As this 
 was to be his final move, it was necessary ti 
 settle all his business on the Yadkin ; and as 
 he had tried the v^ilderness, he felt that a 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 65 
 
 few trusty companions would be invaluable in 
 that new region. He commenced, therefore, 
 making what he thought proper preparations 
 to return. To beat up such neighbors as 
 they desired, he and Squire gave glowing ac- 
 counts of the new country; the rich lands, 
 the forests, the streams, the flowers, and the 
 game, were all talked of They saw only, and 
 consequently spoke only, of the bright side 
 of the picture. But there were numbers of 
 people to talk of difficulties ; these spoke only 
 of the folly of the Boones, in thinking of 
 making such a country their home, and the 
 madness of any man who should think of fol- 
 lowing them ; the country was wild, and all 
 who settled there must suffer many privations ; 
 then, too, (according to their story), it was 
 afflicted with terrible diseases, and they might 
 all expect to die there, or, if they escaped the 
 climate, they must fall into the hands of the 
 fierce and cruel Indians who roamed through 
 those forests ; the place they declared was so 
 dangerous that it was known, wherever^ it was 
 known, as "the dark and bloody ground." With 
 these sad stories floating about continually, it 
 
66 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 is not wonderful that the Boones found diffi- 
 culty in beating up companions, and that more 
 than two years passed away before they were 
 ready for a start. At the end of that time 
 they found that, while many were opposed to 
 them, and others wavering as to what they 
 would do, there were some, prompted by a 
 spirit of bold adventure, ready to join them. 
 Five families were willing to go with them to 
 Kentucky. 
 
 Daniel Boone now sold his farm, and all 
 things being made ready, on the 25th of Sep- 
 tember, 1773, the little company bade fare- 
 well to their friends and started for the west, 
 driving before them their flocks and their 
 herds. In their route, not a great way from 
 the Yadkin was the settlement of Powel's 
 valley. The story of their plan had spread 
 through the neighborhood, and when they 
 reached this spot they were delighted to find 
 that the people were not so timid as those on 
 the Yadkin : forty men here joined the party. 
 Now they traveled on in high spirits ; the whole 
 body, old and young, numbering between sev- 
 enty and eighty souls. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 67 
 
 In a little time they came to the moun- 
 tains, and found the pathway blazed by the 
 Boones. In less than a fortnight they passed 
 the first ridge of the Alleghanies, known as 
 "PoweFs range," and were now quietly de- 
 scending the second, known as "Walden's 
 range," when sorrow overtook them. They 
 were in a dark and narrow gap, when the 
 wild yell of Indians broke upon their ears. 
 The savages rushed into the gap behind them, 
 and let fly their arrows. Six of the party 
 fell dead, a seventh was wounded. The men 
 rallied around the women and children; the 
 first discharge of their rifles scattered the 
 savages. But the mischief was done; the 
 sudden attack of the Indians was like a flash 
 of lightning; they were seen only for an in- 
 stant ; yet, like the lightning, they had done 
 their work : there were the dead, and alas ! 
 among them was the oldest son of Daniel 
 Boone. 
 
 The party, a little time before so happy, was 
 now in deep sorrow. What was to be done? 
 The Indians had not only killed their com- 
 panions, but their flocks and herds had aU 
 
68 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fled in fright, and could not be again gathered 
 together. In dismay, the greater part were 
 for retreating instantly to the nearest white 
 settlement; this was upon the Clinch river 
 forty miles behind them. The Boones begged 
 them to keep on their way — not to think 
 of turning back ; but it was all to no purpose ; 
 most of them insisted on retreating, and they 
 at length yielded to the general desire. Ac- 
 cordingly, the dead were decently buried, and 
 in great sadness they all traced their way 
 back to Clinch river. 
 
 Here Daniel Boone remained with his family 
 eight months. At the end of that time he 
 was requested by Governor Dunmore, of Vir- 
 ginia, to go to the falls of the Ohio, to serve 
 as a guide to a party of surveyors who had 
 been sent there some months before. The 
 western country was now beginning to attract 
 attention, and the Indians were becoming very 
 hostile to the whites. Accordingly, on the 
 6th of June, 1774, he started (with one man, 
 Michael Stoner), and without accident reached 
 the point at which he aimed — the spot where 
 Louisville now stands. The service for the 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. C9 
 
 surveyors was promptly performed, and they 
 were enabled to complete their work, while 
 Boone was at liberty to return to his family. 
 It is remarkable that he made this journey 
 on foot, a distance of eight hundred miles, 
 through a trackless wilderness, in the short 
 period of sixty-two days. 
 
 He was not allowed to remain quiet long; 
 soon after his return, the Indians northwest 
 of the Ohio, especially the Shawanese, made 
 open war upon the whites. Governor Dunmore 
 felt bound to protect his countrymen, and, 
 among other acts for their defense, sent Dan- 
 iel Boone, with the title of captain, to take 
 command of three garrisons. This service was 
 likewise well performed; matters were soon 
 more quiet, the soldiers were discharged, and 
 Boone was relieved from his post. 
 
 He had not been a wanderer in the woods 
 in vain; his fame had gone abroad, and his 
 services were in the following spring sought 
 again. A company of gentleman in North 
 Carolina — the principal man of whom was 
 Colonel Richard Henderson — were attempting 
 to purchase the lands on the south side of 
 
70 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP 
 
 the Kentucky river, from the Cherokee In- 
 dians.* They had agreed to hold a treaty 
 with the Indians, at Wataga, in March, 1775, 
 to settle the boundaries of their intended pur- 
 chase, and they now desired Boone to attend 
 that treaty, and manage their business. In 
 compliance with their wish, he went to Wa- 
 taga, and performed their service so well, that 
 they gave him further employment. He was 
 now requested to mark out a road from their 
 settlement, through the wilderness, to Ken- 
 tucky river. This was a work of great labor. 
 It was necessary to make many surveys to find 
 the best route, and when the best was found, it 
 was much of it, over mountains and rugged 
 regions. With a number of laborers, he com- 
 menced the work. He met with two attacks 
 from the Indians by the way, in which four 
 of his men were killed, and five wounded. 
 Undaunted, he pushed resolutely on, and in 
 the month of April, reached the Kentucky 
 river. To guard themselves from the savages, 
 they immediately commenced the building of 
 
 * It is said that it was by Daniel Boone's advice that they first 
 thought of making this purchase. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 71 
 
 a fort at a salt lick, about sixty yards from 
 the south bank of the stream. The ludians 
 annoyed them from time to time, while they 
 were thus engaged, but fortunately killed but 
 one man. On the 14th day of June the fort 
 was finished, and Boone started back for his 
 family on Clinch river. As an honor to him, 
 the party gave to this first settlement in the 
 wilderness of Kentucky the name of Boones- 
 borough. 
 
 He reached his family without accident, 
 and, as rapidly as he could, retraced his way 
 with them through the forest. The fort con- 
 sisted of several cabins, surrounded by pickets 
 ten feet high, planted firmly in the ground. 
 In one of these, Daniel Boone found a shelter 
 for his family. The long desire of his heart 
 was at last gratified : he had a home in 
 Kentucky. He was the first settler of that 
 region, and (as he proudly said) his " wife and 
 daughter the first white women that ever 
 stood on the banks of the Kentucky river." 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 73 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 It was now the season of autumn ; the trees 
 had not yet shed their leaves, and the forests 
 were still beautiful. Mrs. Boone felt happy 
 as she looked upon her new home. Winter 
 came, and glided rapidly and joyously away. 
 With their axes and rilles, the men in the 
 settlement brought in ample supplies of fuel 
 and game, and around the blazing hearth of 
 Daniel Boone there was not one in the famliy 
 who sighed for the old home on the Yadkin. 
 Boone naturally supposed that a fear of the 
 Indians would be the principal trouble of his 
 wife ; and well she might dread them, remem- 
 bering the loss of her son formerly in the pass 
 of the mountains. Fortunately, however, she 
 did not see an Indian through the season. 
 But one white man wns killed during the win- 
 ter, and he lost his life by unfortunately wan- 
 dering away from the fort unarmed. After 
 this, the other settlers were 'more prudent; 
 
74 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 they never went without the pickets for fuel 
 without taking their rifles. 
 
 When spring opened, they were soon very 
 busy. A smaU clearing without the pickets 
 was first made for a garden-spot. Mrs. Boone 
 and her daughter brought out their stock of 
 garden-seeds, and commenced cultivating this, 
 while the men went on earnestly in the work 
 of preparing for cultivating their fields. They 
 were calculating that they were making their 
 homes for life. Day after day the neighbor- 
 hood resounded with the crash of falling trees, 
 as these hardy men leveled the forests. While 
 they were thus engaged, they were made happy 
 by a new arrival. Colonel Calloway, an old 
 companion of Boone's led by the desire of find- 
 ing his old friend and a new country, came out 
 to the settlement this spring, and brought with 
 him his two young daughters. Here, then, 
 were companions for Boone's daughter. The 
 fathers were happy, and the mother and girls 
 delighted. 
 
 Spring had not passed away, however, before 
 they were in sorrow about these children. 
 When the wild flowers began to bloom in the 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 75 
 
 woods, the girls were in the habit of strolling 
 around the fort and gathering them to adorn 
 their humble homes. This was an innocent 
 and pleasant occupation; it pleased the girls 
 as well as their parents. They were only 
 cautioned not to wander far, for fear of the 
 Indians. This caution, it seems, was forgotten. 
 Near the close of a beautiful day in July, they 
 were wandering, as usual, and the bright flow- 
 ers tempted them to stroll thoughtlessly on- 
 ward. Indians were in ambush; they were 
 suddenly surrounded, seized, and hurried away, 
 in spite of their screams for help. They were 
 carried by their captors to the main body 
 of the Indian party, some miles distant. Night 
 came, and the girls did not return ; search was 
 made for them, and they were no where to be 
 found. The thought now flashed upon Boone 
 that the children were prisoners; the Indians 
 had captured them. The parents were well 
 nigh frantic; possibly the girls were mur- 
 dered. Boone declared that he would recover 
 hia child if alive, if he lost his own life in 
 the effort. The whole settlement was at once 
 roused : every man offered to start off with 
 
76 LIFE AND ADVENTURERS OF 
 
 the two fathers in search of the children. But 
 Boone would not have them all ; some must 
 remain behind, to protect the settlement. Of 
 the whole number he chose seven; he and 
 Calloway headed them ; and in less time than 
 I have been telling the story, laden with their 
 knapsacks and rifles, they were off in pursuit. 
 Which way were they to go ? It was a 
 long time before they could find a track of the 
 party. The wily Indians, as usual, had used 
 all their cunning in hiding their footprints and 
 breaking their trail. Covering their tracks 
 with leaves ; walking at right angles occa- 
 sionally from the main path; crossing brooks 
 by walking in them for some time, and 
 leaving them at a point fir from where they 
 entered: all this had been practiced, and I 
 presume that the fathers never would have 
 got on the track if the girls had not been 
 as cunning as their captors. After wandering 
 about for some time, they came at length to 
 a brook, and waded along it for a great while 
 in search of footprints. They looked faithfully 
 far up and down the stream, for they knew 
 the Indian stratagem. Presently Calloway 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 77 
 
 leaped for joy. ^' God bless my child ! " cried 
 he ; " they have gone this way." He had 
 picked up a little piece of riband which one 
 of his daughters had dropped, purposely to 
 mark the trail. Now they were on the 
 track. Travehng on as rapidly as they could, 
 from time to time they picked up shreds of 
 handkerchiefs, or fragments of their dresses, 
 that the girls had scattered by the way. Be- 
 fore the next day ended, they were still more 
 clearly on the track. They reached a soft, 
 muddy piece of ground, and found all the 
 footprints of the party; they were now able 
 to tell the number of the Indians. The close 
 of the next day brought them still nearer to 
 the objects of their search. Night had set in ; 
 they were still wandering on, when, upon 
 reaching a small hill, they saw a camp-fire in 
 the distance. They were now delighted ; this 
 surely was the party that had captured the 
 girls. Every thing was left to the manage- 
 ment of Boone. He brought his men as near 
 the fire as he dared approach, and sheltered 
 them from observation under the brow of a 
 hill. Calloway and another man were then 
 
78 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 selected from the group; the rest were told 
 that they might go to sleep : they were, 
 however, to sleep on their arms, ready to 
 start instantly at a given signal. Calloway 
 was to go with Boone : the other man was 
 stationed on the top of the hill, to give the 
 alarm if necessary. The two parents now crept 
 cautiously onward to a covert of bushes not 
 far from the fire. Looking through, they saw 
 fifteen or twenty Indians fast asleep in the 
 camp ; but where were the girls ? Crawling to 
 another spot, they pushed the bushes cautiously 
 aside, and, to their great joy, saw in another 
 camp the daughters sleeping in each other's 
 arms. Two Indians with their tomahawks 
 guarded this camp. One seemed to be asleep. 
 They crept gently around in the rear of this. 
 They were afraid to use their rifles : the report 
 would wake the other camp. Calloway was to 
 stand ready to shoot the sleeping Indian if he 
 stirred, while Boone was to creep behind the 
 other, seize, and strangle him. They were 
 then to hurry off with the children. Unfortu- 
 nately, they calculated wrong: the Indian 
 whom they supposed to be sleeping was wide 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 79 
 
 awake, and, as Boone drew near, his shadow 
 was seen by this man. He sprang up, and 
 the woods rang with his yell. The other 
 camp was roused ; the Indians came rushing to 
 this. Boone's first impulse was to use his rifle, 
 but Calloway's prudence restrained him. Had 
 he fired it would have been certain destruc- 
 tion to parents and children. They surren- 
 dered themselves prisoners, pleading earnestly 
 at the same time for their captive daughters. 
 The Indians bound them with cords, placed 
 guards over them, and then returned to their 
 camp. The poor girls, roused by the tumult, 
 now saw their parents in this pitiable condi- 
 tion. Here they were, likewise made captives, 
 for their love of them. 
 
 There was no more sleep in the Indian camp 
 that night. Till the dawn of the day they 
 were talking of what should be done to their 
 new prisoners ; some were for burning them 
 at the stake ; others objected to this. Boone 
 and Calloway were to be killed, but they were 
 too brave to be killed in this way. Some pro- 
 posed making them run the gauntlet. At 
 last it was decided (in pity for the girls, it 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 81 
 
 is said) that the parents should be killed 
 in a more decent and quiet way. They were 
 to be tomahawked and scalped, and the girls 
 were still to be kept prisoners. With the 
 morning's light they started out to execute 
 the sentence. That the poor girls might not 
 see their parents murdered, the men were led 
 olF to the woods and there lashed to two trees. 
 Two of the savages stood before them with 
 their tomahawks, while the rest were singing 
 and dancing around them. At length the 
 tomahawks were lifted to strike them ; at that 
 instant the crack of rifles was heard, and the 
 two Indians fell dead. Another and another 
 report was heard ; others fell, and the rest 
 fled in dismay. Boone's companions had 
 saved them. All night long they had waited 
 for the signal : none had been given ; they 
 had heard the Indian yell ; they feared they 
 were taken. They were instantly untied ; the 
 girls were quickly released, and in the arms 
 of their parents; and they all started joy- 
 ously homeward. Mrs. Boone was delighted 
 to see them. The party had been so long 
 gone,' that she feared her husband and child 
 6 
 
82 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 were alike lost to her forever. It is not sur- 
 prising that when men found out that a settle- 
 ment had been made in Kentucky, others 
 \yere soon ready to start off for that fertile 
 region. Accordingly, we find many arriving 
 this year, and settling themselves in the 
 country. Harrod, Logan, Ray, Wagin, Bow- 
 man, and many other fearless spirits, now 
 threw themselves, like Boone, into the heart 
 of the wilderness, and made their forts, or 
 stations, as they were called. These were 
 just like the home of Boone — nothing more 
 than a few log cabins, surrounded by pickets. 
 Indeed, the country began now to assume so 
 much importance in the eyes of men, that the 
 Governor of Virginia thought proper to take 
 some notice of it. When the legislature met, 
 he recommended that the south-western part 
 of the county of Fincastle — which meant all 
 the large tract of country west of the Alle- 
 ghanies now known as Kentucky — should be 
 made in to a separate county, by the name of 
 Kentucky. The legislature thought it well to 
 follow his advice. The new county was made, 
 and had the privilege of sending two mem- 
 
COLONEL DAxNlEL BOONE. 83 
 
 bers to the Virginia legislature. Nor is it 
 surprising that the Indians began now to be 
 more violent than ever. They had been un- 
 willing before that a white man should cross 
 their path as they roamed over their hunting- 
 grounds ; but now, when they saw clearings 
 made, and houses built, they felt that the 
 whites meant to drive them forever from that 
 region. Their hatred consequently increased 
 every hour. Another circumstance at this 
 time served to rouse them more against the 
 settlers. If you will think of the period of 
 which I am speaking (the year 1776), perhaps 
 you may guess what it was. The colonists of 
 America in that year, you will remember, de- 
 clared themselves independent of Great Britain. 
 In the war which followed (known among us 
 always as the Revolutionary War), England 
 struggled hard to subdue them ; nor was she 
 always choice as to the means which she 
 used for the purpose. She did not hesitate 
 even to rouse the red men of the forests, and 
 give them arms to fight the colonists. They 
 were not only turned loose upon them with 
 their own tomahawks and scalping-knives, but 
 
84 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 were well supplied with British rifles and balls. 
 All the new settlements in the land were 
 troubled with them, and Kentucky had to bear 
 her part of the sorrow. These Indians would 
 scatter themselves in small parties, and hang 
 secretly for days and nights around the infant 
 stations. Until one is acquainted with Indian 
 stratagems, he can hardly tell how cunning 
 these people are. By day they would hide 
 themselves in the grass, or behind the stumps 
 of trees, near the pathways to the fields or 
 springs of water, and it was certain death to 
 the white man who traveled that way. At 
 night they would creep up to the very gate- 
 way of the pickets, and watch for hours for 
 a white man. If any part of his person was 
 exposed, he was sure to catch a rifle-ball. It 
 was impossible to discover them, even when 
 their mischief was done. They would lie in 
 the grass flat on their bellies for days, almost 
 under the very palisades. Sometimes an In- 
 dian yell would be heard near one point of the 
 fort, startling all the settlers — a yell raised 
 only to draw them all in one direction, while 
 the Indians did their mischief in another. In 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 85 
 
 this sneaking mode of warilire, men, women, 
 and children, were killed in many places ; and 
 not unfrequently whole droves of cattle were 
 cut off. 
 
 At length, to the great joy of the settlers, 
 the Indians began to show themselves more 
 boldly : for any thing was better than these 
 secret ambushes of the savages; an open 
 enemy is not so much to be dreaded as a 
 secret one. Boonesborough and Harrodsburgh 
 (a settlement made by James Harrod, a bold 
 adventurer from the banks of the Mononga- 
 hela) were now the principal stations. Toward 
 these, new emigrants were from time to time 
 moving, and against these stations, as being 
 the strongest, the Indians felt the greatest 
 hatred, and directed their principal attacks. 
 Early in the spring of 1777, a party was 
 moving toward Harrodsburgh : * fortunately, 
 the Indians attacked them; for, though two 
 whites were killed, the attack probably saved 
 the settlement. It was only four miles from 
 the place, and the Indians were then on their 
 way there. One young man escaped in the 
 midst of the fight to give the alarm at Har- 
 
86 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 rodsburgh. The station was instantly put in 
 a state of defense. Ere long the Indians 
 appeared. A brisk firing at once commenced 
 on both sides ; the savages saw one of their 
 men fall, and finding that they were not likely 
 to gain any advantage, soon scattered for the 
 woods. The whites lost one man also, and 
 three were slightly wounded. 
 
 On the 15th of April, a party of one hun- 
 dred savages appeared boldly before Boones- 
 borough. Every man of them was armed with 
 his gun, as well as bows and arrows. Boone, 
 however, prepared for them, and gave them 
 a warm reception — so warm, that they soon 
 gladly retreated. • How many of their men 
 were killed it was impossible to tell, for they 
 dragged away their dead with them. In the 
 fort one man was killed, and four were badly 
 wounded. 
 
 Their loss this time only served to make 
 them more revengeful. In July following they 
 again came against Boonesborough, resolved 
 upon vengeance. They numbered this time 
 more than two hundred. To prevent any of 
 the white settlements from sending aid to 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 87 
 
 Boonesborough, they had sent off small parties 
 to molest them, and keep them busy. The 
 savages now commenced their attack, and for 
 two days a constant firing was kept up. At 
 last, finding their efforts again idle, they raised 
 a loud yell, and returned to the forests. The 
 whites could now count their slain and wounded 
 as they dragged them off: seven were killed, 
 and numbers wounded, while in the fort only 
 one white man was slain. In spite of their 
 numbers and their cunning, they did but little 
 harm : for Boone was never found sleeping ; 
 he knew that Indians were his neighbors, and 
 he was always ready for them. After this, 
 they learned to dread him more than ever. 
 He now went by the name of the " Great 
 Long Knife." 
 
 Attacks of this kind were made from time 
 to time openly against the settlements, but 
 especially against these two principal stations. 
 They all ended very much in the s?,me way, 
 and it would only weary you if I should 
 attempt to speak of them. It is enough for 
 you to know that the whites were always on 
 the lookout, and that Boone was regarded as 
 
88 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 their principal leader and protector. We will 
 pass on, therefore, to something more interest- 
 ing. I have already stated that the stations 
 of these settlers were usually built, for com- 
 fort's sake, in the neighborhood of salt licks 
 or springs ; and near such a lick, as you will 
 remember, Boonesborough stood. The supply 
 of salt, however, was not sufficient ; new set- 
 tlers were often aniving, and it became neces- 
 sary to seek a place which would afford more 
 of that article. Boone was the father of the 
 settlement, and he undertook to find it. Hav- 
 ing selected thirty men as his companions, on 
 the 1st of January, 1778, he started for the 
 Blue Licks, on Licking river — a stream, as 
 you know, emptying itself into the Ohio op- 
 posite where Cincinnati now stands. Upon 
 reaching this spot, the thirty men were soon 
 very busy in making salt. Boone, having no 
 taste for the work, sauntered off to employ 
 himself in shooting game for the company. 
 He had wandered some distance from the river 
 on that day, when suddenly he came upon 
 two Indians armed with muskets. It was im- 
 possible for him to retreat, and the chances 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 89 
 
 were against him if he stood. His usual cool- 
 ness did not forsake him ; he instantly junrped 
 behind a tree. As the Indians came v;ithin 
 gun-shot, he exposed himself on the side of 
 the tree : one savage immediately fired, and 
 Boone dodged the ball. One shot was thus 
 thrown away, and this was just what he de- 
 sired. Exposing himself immediately in pre- 
 cisely the same way, the other musket was 
 discharged by the other Indian, to as little 
 purpose. He now stepped boldly out; the 
 Indians were trying hard to load again ; he 
 raised his rifle, and one savage fell dead. He 
 was now on equal terms with the other. Draw- 
 ing his hunting-knife, he leaped forward and 
 placed his foot upon the body of the dead 
 Indian; the other raised his tomahawk to 
 strike ; but Boone, with his rifle in his left 
 hand, warded off the blow, while with his right 
 he plunged his knife into the heart of the 
 savage. His two foes lay dead before him. 
 If you should ever visit Washington city, 
 you will see a memorial of this deed. The 
 act is in sculpture, over the southern door of 
 the rotunda of the capitol. 
 
# 
 
 90 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 After this he continued his hunting excur- 
 sions as usual, for the benefit of his party; 
 but he was not so fortunate the next time he 
 met with the Indians. On the 7th of Feb* 
 ruary, as he was roaming through the woods, 
 he saw a party of one hundred savages on 
 their way to attack Boonesborough. His only 
 chance for escape now was to run. He in- 
 stantly fled, but the swiftest warriors gave 
 chase, and before a great while he was over- 
 taken and made a prisoner. He was, of all 
 men, the one whom they desired to take ; they 
 now carried him back to the Blue Licks. As 
 they drew near, Boone, knowing that it was 
 idle to resist, made signs to the salt-makers 
 to surrender themselves. This they did, and 
 thus the savages soon had in their possession 
 iwenty-eight captives. Fortunately for them- 
 selves, three of the men had started home- 
 ward with a supply of salt, and thus escaped. 
 
 Now was the time for the savages to have 
 attacked Boonesborough; for, with the loss 
 of so many men, and Boone their leader, we 
 mny readily suppose that the station might 
 have surrendered. Flushed, however, with the 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 91 
 
 capture of their prisoners, they seem not to 
 have thought of it any longer. 
 
 The prisoners were marched immediately to 
 Old Chillicothe, the principal Indian town on 
 the Little Miami, where they arrived on the 
 18th. There was great rejoicing over them 
 when they reached this old settlement of the 
 savages, though Boone says they were 
 *^ treated as kindly as prisoners could ex- 
 pect." Early in the next month, Boone with 
 ten of his men was marched off to Detroit 
 by forty Indians. Here Governor Hamilton, 
 the British commander of that post, treated 
 them with much kindness. The ten men were 
 soon delivered up for a small ransom. But 
 when the Governor offered them one hundred 
 pounds to give up Boone, that he might allow 
 him to return home, they refused to part with 
 him ; they looked upon him as too dangerous 
 an enemy to be allowed to go free upon any 
 terms. Several English gentlemen were moved 
 with pity when they saw Boone thus a help- 
 less prisoner, and offered to supply his wants. 
 He thanked them for their feeling, but refused 
 to receive any aid, stating that he never ex- 
 
92 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 pected to be able to return their kindness, and 
 therefore was unwilling to receive it. The 
 truth was, he was not disposed to receive 
 assistance from the enemies of his country. 
 
 With no other prisoner than Boone, the 
 party now started again for Old Chillicothe. 
 As they drew near, after a very fatiguing 
 march, Boone thought he understood why they 
 had refused to part with him. Before they 
 entered the village, they shaved his head, 
 painted his face, and dressed him like them- 
 selves ; they then placed in his hands a long 
 white staff, ornamented with deers' tails. The 
 chief of the party then raised a yell, and 
 all the warriors from the village answered it, 
 and soon made their appearance. Four young 
 warriors commenced singing as they came 
 toward him. The two first, each bearing a 
 calumet, took him by the arms and marched 
 him to a cabin in the village ; here he was 
 to remain until his fate was made known to 
 him. Of all strange customs of the Indians 
 (and he had seen many of them), this was 
 the strangest to him. It is not wonderful 
 that he thous^ht he was now to die. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 93 
 
 Yet this was a common custom (it is said) 
 among the Shawanese, who inhabited this vil- 
 lage. Prisoners were often thus carried to 
 some cabin, and then the Indian living in the 
 cabin decided what should be done — whether 
 the prisoner should die, or be adopted into the 
 tribe. It happened that in this cabin lived 
 an old Indian woman, who had lost a son in 
 battle. She, of course, was to decide Boone's 
 fate. She looked at him earnestly, admired 
 his noble bearing and cheerful face, and at 
 length declared that he should live. He should 
 be her son, she said ; he should be to her the 
 son whom she had lost. The young warriors 
 instantly announced to him his fate, and the 
 fact was soon proclaimed through the village. 
 Food was brought out and set before him; 
 and every effort, which Indian love could think, 
 of, was used to make him happy. He was 
 fairly one of the tribe; and the old woman 
 who was to be his mother was especially 
 delighted. 
 
 He was now as free as the rest; his only 
 sorrow was that he had to live among them. 
 He knew, too, that if he should be caught 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 95 
 
 trying to make his escape, it would be cer- 
 tain death to him. He pretended, therefore, 
 to be cheerful and happy ; and fortunately his 
 old habits enabled him to play his part well. 
 Like them he was a man of the woods, and as 
 fond of hunting as any of them. They all 
 soon became attached to him, and treated 
 him with the utmost confidence. 
 
 Sometimes large parties would go out to 
 try their skill at their sports of racing and 
 shooting at a mark. Boone was always with 
 them ; he knew, however, that in trials of this 
 kind the Indians were always jealous if they 
 were beaten, and therefore he had to act 
 very prudently. At racing, they could excel 
 him ; but at shooting, he was more than a 
 match for any of them. Still when the target 
 was set up, he was always certain to be beaten. 
 If he shot too well, they would be jealous and 
 angry ; if he shot badly, they would hold him 
 in contempt : and therefore he would manage 
 to make good shots, and yet never be the 
 successful man. He knew too much of Indians 
 not to conduct himself properly. 
 
 Sometimes they would start out upon hunt- 
 
96 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ing pcarties. Here Boone was at honie ; there 
 was no jealousy when he brought down a 
 buffalo or a deer with his rifle-ball. He might 
 do his best; they were true hunters them- 
 selves, and were delighted with every success- 
 ful shot. Returning to the village, Boone 
 would always visit the Shawanese chief, and 
 present him a portion of his game. By this 
 kindness and civility he completely won the 
 heart of the chief, and was not unfrequently 
 consulted by him on important matters. Thus 
 he passed his time, joining in all their modes 
 of living ; he was beloved by the old woman, 
 the chief, and all the tribe : and none sus- 
 pected that he was not contented and happy. 
 On the first of June, a large party was start- 
 ing from the village for the salt-licks on the 
 Scioto, to make salt. Boone pretended to be 
 indifferent whether he went or not. The truth 
 was, however, that he was very anxious to go, 
 for he thought it would afford a fine oppor- 
 tunity for him to escape. He seemed so in- 
 different about the matter, that the party urged 
 him to accompany them, and off he started. 
 For ten days most of them were busy making 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 97 
 
 salt, while Boone and two or three of the best 
 marksmen hunted for the benefit of the rest. 
 He watched his chance for escape, but none 
 occurred ; he was closely observed ; it was 
 impossible for him to attempt it. To his 
 great sorrow, he was forced to return home 
 with the salt-makers. 
 
 They had scarcely got back, when the whole 
 village was summoned to the council-house to 
 attend a council of war. Boone, as belonging 
 to one of the principal families, went to this 
 council. Here he met four hundred and fifty 
 armed Indians, all gayly painted. One of the 
 oldest warriors then struck a large drum, and 
 marched with the war-standard three times 
 round the council-house: this was the sure 
 signal that they were about to make war upon 
 some enemy. But who was the enemy ? What 
 was Boone's surprise when it was announced 
 that they meant to attack Boonesborough ! 
 He resolved now that he would escape, even 
 at every hazard, and alarm the settlement. 
 Still his prudence did not forsake him. 
 
 The old warriors at once commenced gath- 
 ering together a supply of parched corn, and 
 
98 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 beating up more recruits for the expedition. 
 All the new men, (Boone among the rest, 
 for he was forced to join them) were then 
 marched ofi' to the 'Mvinter-house " to drink 
 the war-drink. This was a mixture of water 
 and bitter herbs and roots, and was to be 
 drank steadily for three days, during which 
 time no man was to eat a morsel. Even if 
 a deer or bufialo passed by, no man was to 
 kill it ; the fast was to be kept. In fact, no 
 man was allowed even to sit down, or rest him- 
 self by leaning against a tree. This was done 
 by the old men to purify the young warriors, 
 as they said, and to gain the favor of the Great 
 Spirit. All this was a common practice with 
 the tribe before they went to battle ; and the 
 more strictly the fast was kept, the greater 
 (as they supposed) were the cliances of success. 
 During these three days, Boone, like the rest, 
 kept the fast, drank the war-drink, and did not 
 even leave the " medicine-ground." 
 
 The fist being over, they fired their guns, 
 yelled, danced and snng; and m the midst of 
 this noise the march commenced. The leading 
 war-chief, bearing the medicine-bag, or budget 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 99 
 
 (as it was called), went before ; the rest fol- 
 lowed in single file. Nothing but shouting and 
 yelling, and the noise of guns, was heard, as they 
 passed through the village. When they reached 
 the woods, all the noise ceased; they were fairly 
 on their march, and that march was to be made 
 after the Indian flishion, in dead silence. For 
 several days this dead march was kept up, Boone 
 looking every hour for his chance of escape. 
 At length, early one morning, a deer dashed by 
 the line. Boone leaped eagerly after him, and 
 started in pursuit. No sooner was he out of 
 sight of the Indians, than he pressed for Boones- 
 borough. He knew they would give chase, and 
 therefore he doubled his track, waded in 
 streams, and did every thing that he could to 
 throw them off his trail. Every sound startled 
 him ; he thought the Indians were behind him. 
 With no food but roots and berries, and scarcely 
 time to devour these, he pushed through 
 swamps and thickets for his old home. Now 
 or never was his chance for liberty, and as 
 such he used it. At length, after wandering 
 nearly two hundred miles, on the fourth day 
 he reached Boonesborough in safety. 
 
BLACKFOOT IDIANS.— 100. 
 
 CAMANCHE INDIANS.— 100. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE 101 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Before we go on, let me tell you of some 
 of the curious customs which Boone noticed 
 among the Indians, during his captivity. He 
 had a fine opportunity of observation, and I 
 think these strange customs will interest you. 
 
 It is not wonderful that Indian men and 
 women are so hardy ; they are trained to it 
 from their youth: and Boone tells us how 
 they are trained. When a child is only eight 
 years old, this training commences; he is 
 then made to fast frequently half a day ; 
 when he is twelve, he is made to fast a whole 
 day. During the time of this fast, the child 
 is left alone, and his face is always blacked. 
 This mode of hardening them is kept up with 
 girls until they are fourteen — with boys until 
 they are eighteen. At length, when a boy has 
 reached the age of eighteen, his parents tell 
 him that his education is completed, and that 
 he is old enough to be a man. His face is 
 now to be blacked for the last time. He is 
 
102 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 taken to a solitary cabin far away from the 
 village ; his face is blacked, and then his 
 father makes to him a peech of this kind : 
 "My son, the Great Spirit has allowed you 
 to live to see this day. We have all noticed 
 your conduct since I first began to black 
 your face. All people will understand whether 
 you have followed your fither's advice, and 
 they will treat you accordingly. You must 
 now remain here until I come after you." The 
 lad is then left alone. His father then goes 
 ofl' hunting, as though nothing had happened, 
 and leaves his boy to bear his hunger as long 
 as it is possible for him to starve and live. 
 At length he prepares a great feast, gathers 
 his friends together, and then returns. The 
 lad is then brought home, his face is washed 
 in cold water, his hair is shaved, leaving noth- 
 ing but the scalp-lock ; they all commence 
 eating, but the food of the lad is placed be- 
 fore him in a separate dish. This being over, 
 a looking-glass and a bag of paint are then 
 presented to him. Then they all praise him 
 for his firmness, and tell him that he is a 
 man. Strange as it may seem, a boy is hardly 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 103 
 
 ever known to break his ftisfi when be is 
 blacked this way for the last time. It is 
 looked upon as something base, and they have 
 a dread that the Great Spirit will punish them 
 if they are disobedient to their parents. 
 
 Another curious habit which surprised Boone 
 was that of continually changing names. A 
 white man carries the same name from the 
 cradle to the grave, but among these people 
 it was very different. Their principal arms, as 
 you know, are the tomahawk and scal[)ing- 
 knife, and he who can take the greatest num- 
 ber of scalps is the greatest man. From time 
 to time, as warriors would return from an attack 
 upon some enem}^, these new names would begin 
 to be known. Each man would count the 
 number of scalps he had taken, and a cer- 
 tain number entitled him to a new name, 
 in token of his bravery. It is not wonderful 
 that they were revengeful, when th-y were 
 stimulated by this sort of ambition. Besides 
 this, they believed that he who took the 
 scalp of a brave man received at once all 
 his courage and good qualities ; and this made 
 them more eager in their thirst for scalps. 
 
INDIAN BUEYING GKOUND,— 104. 
 
 SCALP DANCE— 104. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 105 
 
 In this way, names of warriors were sometimes 
 changed three or four times in a year. 
 
 Marriages in this tribe were conducted very 
 decently. When a young warrior desired to 
 marry, he assembled all his friends, and named 
 the woman whom he wished for his wife. His 
 relations then received his present, and took 
 it to the parents of the young woman. If 
 they were pleased with the proposal, they would 
 dress the young woman in her gayest clothes, 
 and take her, with bundles of presents, to 
 the friends of the warrior ; then, if she pleased, 
 she was to be married. There was no com- 
 pulsion in the matter. If she was not satis- 
 fied, she had only to return his present to the 
 young warrior, and this was considered a 
 refusal. 
 
 Their mode of hurrying their dead was very 
 much like that of all the Indians. The dead 
 body was sometimes placed in a pen made of 
 sticks and covered over with bark ; sometimes 
 it was placed in a grave, and covered first with 
 bark, and then with dirt ; and sometimes, 
 especially in the case of the young, it was 
 placed in a rude coffin, and suspended from 
 
106 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the top of a tree. This last was a common 
 mode of iuf mt burial, and the mother of the 
 child would often be found, long after, stand- 
 ing under the tree, and singing songs to her 
 babe. 
 
 Boone witnessed, too, the mode in which war- 
 parties start off for war. The budget, or medi- 
 cine-bag, is first made up. This bag contains 
 something belonging to each man of the party 
 — something usually representing some ani- 
 mal, such as the skin of a snake, the tail of 
 a buffalo, the horns of a buck, or the feathers 
 of a bird. It is always regarded as a very 
 sacred thing. The leader of the party goes 
 before with this ; the rest follow in single file. 
 When they come to a stand, the budget is 
 laid down in front, and no man may pass it 
 without permission. To keep their thoughts 
 upon the enterprise in which they are en- 
 gaged, no man is allowed to talk of women 
 or his home. At night, when they encamp, the 
 heart of whatever animal has been killed dur- 
 ing the day is cut into small pieces and then 
 burnt. During the burning no man is allowed 
 to step across the fire, but must always walk 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 107 
 
 around it in the direction of the sun. When 
 they spy the enemy, and the attack is to be 
 made, the war-budget is opened. Each man 
 takes out his budget, or ^ totem,'^ and fastens 
 it to his body. After the fight, each man 
 again returns his ' totem ' to the leader. They 
 are all tied up, and given to the man who 
 has taken the first scalp. He then leads the 
 party in triumph home. 
 
 Boone had not long been a prisoner among 
 them when a successful war-party returned 
 home and celebrated their victory. When 
 the party came within a day's march of* the 
 village, a messenger was sent in to tell of 
 their success. An order was instantly issued 
 that every cabin should be swept clean, and 
 the women as quickly commenced the work. 
 When they had finished, the cabins were all 
 inspected, to see if they were in proper 
 order. Next day the party approached the 
 village. They were all frightfully painted, 
 and each m^an had a bunch of white feathers 
 on his head. They were marching in single 
 file, the chief of the pjirty leading the way, 
 bearing in one hand a branch of cedar, laden 
 
108 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 with the scalps they had taken, and all chant- 
 ing their war-song. As they entered the 
 village, the chief led the way to the war-pole, 
 which stood in front of the council-house. In 
 this house the council-fire was then burning. 
 The waiter, or ' Etissu ' of the leader, then fixed 
 two blocks of wood near the war-pole, and 
 placed upon them a kind of ark, which was 
 regarded by them as one of their most sacred 
 things. The chief now ordered that all should 
 sit down. He then inquired whether his cabin 
 was prepared, and every thing made ready, 
 according to the custom of his fiithers. They 
 then rose up, and commenced the war-whoop, 
 as they marched round the war-pole. The 
 ark was then taken and carried with great 
 solemnity into the council-house, and here the 
 whole party remained three days and nights, 
 separate from the rest of the people. Their 
 first business now was to wash themselves clean, 
 and sprinkle themselves with a mixture of 
 bitter herbs. While they were thus in the 
 house, all their female relatives, after having 
 bathed and dressed themselves in their finest 
 clothes placed themselves in two lines facing 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 109 
 
 each other on each side of the door. Here 
 they continued singing a slow monotonous song 
 all day and night ; the song was kept up 
 steadily for one minute, with intervals of 
 ten minutes of dead silence between. About 
 once in three hours the chief would march ^out 
 at the head of his warriors, raise the war- 
 whoop, and pass around his war-pole, bearing 
 his branch of cedar. This was all that was 
 done for the whole three days and nights. At 
 length the purification was ended, and apon 
 each of their cabins was placed a twig of the 
 cedar with a fragment of the scalps fastened 
 to it, to satisfy the ghosts of their departed 
 friends. All were now quiet as usual, except 
 the leader of the party and his waiter, who 
 kept up the purification three days and three 
 nights longer. When he had finished, the 
 budget was hung up before his door for thirty 
 or forty days, and from time to time Indians 
 of the party would be seen singing and dancing 
 before it. When Boone asked the meaning 
 of all this strange ceremony, they answered 
 him by a word which he says meant ' holy ' 
 As this party had brought in no prisoners, 
 
INDIANS BURNING A PKISONEK.-llO. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. HI 
 
 he did not now witness their horrible mode of 
 torture. Before, he left them, '^however, he 
 saw enough of their awful cruelty in this way 
 Sometimes the poor prisoner would be tied 
 to a stake, a pile of green wood placed around 
 him, fire applied, and the poor wretch left to 
 his horrible fate, while, amid shouts and yells, 
 the Indians departed. Sometimes he would 
 be forced to run the gauntlet between two 
 rows of Indians, each one striking at him 
 with a club until he fell dead. Others would 
 be fastened between two stakes, their arms 
 and legs stretched to each of them, and 
 quickly burnt by a blazing fire. A common 
 mode was to pinion the arms of the prisoner, 
 and then tie one end of a grape-vine around 
 his neck, while the other was fastened to the 
 stake. A fire was then kindled, and the poor 
 wretch would walk the circle ; this gave the 
 savages the comfort of seeing the creature 
 literally roasting, while his agony was pro- 
 longed. Perhaps this was the most popular 
 mode, too, because all the women and children 
 could join in it. They were there, with their 
 bundles of dry sticks, to keep the fire blazing, 
 
112 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and their long switches to beat the prisoner. 
 Fearful that their victim might die too soon, 
 and thus escape their cruelty, the women would 
 knead cakes of clay and put them on the 
 skull of the poor sufferer, that the fire might 
 not reach his brain and instantly kill him. 
 As the poor frantic wretch would run round 
 the circle, they would yell, dance, and sing, 
 and beat him with their switches, until he fell 
 exhausted. At other times, a poor prisoner 
 would be tied, and then scalding water would 
 be poured upon him from time to time till 
 he died. It was amazing, too, to see how the 
 warriors would sometimes bear these tortures. 
 Tied to the stake, they would chant their war- 
 songs, threaten their ca,ptors with the awful 
 vengeance of their tribe, boast of how many 
 of their nation they had scalped, and tell 
 their tormentors how they might increase their 
 torture. In the midst of the fire they would 
 stand unflinching, and die without changing a 
 muscle. It was their glory to die in this way ; 
 they felt that they disappointed' their enemies 
 in their last triumph. 
 
 While Boone was with them, a noted warrior 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 113 
 
 of one of the western tribes, with which the 
 Shawanese were at war, was brought iu as a 
 captive. He was at once condemned, stripped, 
 fastened to the stake, and the fire kindled. 
 After suffering without flinching for a long 
 time, he laughed at his captors, and told 
 them they did not know how to make an en- 
 emy eat fire. He called for a pipe and 
 tobacco. Excited by his bravery, they gave 
 it to him. He sat down on the burning 
 coals, and commenced smoking with the utmost 
 composure ; not a muscle of his countenance 
 moved. Seeing this one of his captors sprang 
 forward and cried out that he was a true 
 warrior. Though he had murdered many of 
 their tribe, yet he should live, if the fire had 
 not spoiled him. The fire had, however, well 
 nigh done its work. With that, he declared 
 that he was too brave a man to suflfer any 
 longer. He seized a tomahawk and raised it 
 over the head of the prisoner : still a muscle 
 did not move. He did not even change his 
 posture. The blow was given, and the brave 
 warrior fell dead. 
 
 While among them, Boone also witnessed the 
 
 8 
 
114 LIFE A:^D adventures Oh 
 
 mode in which the Shawanese made a treaty 
 of peace. The warriors of both tribes between 
 which the treaty was to be made, met together 
 first, ate and smoked in a friendly way, and 
 then pledged themselves in a sacred drink 
 called 'cussena.' The Shawanese then waved 
 large fans, made of eagles' tails, and danced. 
 The other party, after this, chose six of their 
 finest young men, painted them with white 
 clay, and adorned their heads with swans' 
 feathers ; their leader was then placed on what 
 was called the " consecrated seat." After this 
 they all commenced dancing and singing their 
 songs of peace. They danced first in a 
 bending posture ; then stood upright, still 
 dancing, and bearing in their right hands their 
 fms, while in their left they carried a calabash, 
 tied to a stick about a foot long, and with this 
 continually beat their breasts. During all this 
 some added to the noise by rattling pebbles 
 in a gourd. This being over, peace was con- 
 cluded. It was an act of great solemnity, 
 and no warrior was considered as well trained, 
 who did not know how to join in every part 
 of it. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 115 
 
 Many other strange things were seen by 
 Boone among these people, with habits very 
 unlike his own. It is not wonderful that he 
 sighed to escape, when he looked upon their 
 horrid tortures. Independently of his lovo 
 for Boonesborough, he did not know but that 
 such tortures might be his at any moment, 
 when they became excited. Fortunately, as 
 we have seen, he did escape, and we will now 
 go on with his story. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 117 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 When Boone reached Boonesborough, the 
 object he most loved was not to be found. 
 His poor wife, wearied with waiting for him, 
 and naturally concluding that he was lost to 
 her forever, had returned to her friends on the 
 Yadkin. The settlers had begged her to re- 
 main, and offered her every kindness ; but her 
 husband was gone : she was heart-sick, and 
 longed to return to her friends in Carolina. 
 Disappointed as he was, however, he had no 
 time to waste in sorrow. The Indians were 
 approaching, and Boonesborough was well nigh 
 defenseless. Just before his return, a Major 
 Smith had taken charge of the post, and been 
 busy in strengthening it, but much was still 
 to be done. Boone's energies were now at 
 work, and in a little time the station was 
 ready for an attack. A white man now came 
 into the settlement with news. He had es- 
 caped from the Indians. The party from 
 which Boone had escaped had postponed their 
 
118 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 attack for three weeks, and gone back to 
 strengthen themselves. They felt that Boone 
 had reached home — the alarm was given, the 
 place fortified — and that it was idle to attack 
 it at this time. 
 
 Boone determined at once to improve the 
 mean season. With nineteen men he started 
 off to surprise the Indians at Paint Creek town, 
 a small village on the Scioto. When he came 
 within four miles of the place, he met a party 
 of the savages on their way to join the 
 large body marching against Boonesborough. 
 The fight instantly commenced; one Indian 
 fell dead, several were wounded, and the rest 
 were forced to retreat; their horses and all 
 their baggage fell into the hands of Boone. 
 Two men were now sent to reconnoiter the 
 town. They found no Indians there ; they 
 had all left. After setting fire to the village, 
 they returned, and Boone immediately hurried 
 homeward. He had scarcely entered the sta- 
 tion, and closed the gates, when an army of 
 four hundred and forty-four Indians, led on 
 by a Frenchman named Daquesne, appeared 
 before the settlement. They soon sent in a 
 
COLONEL DANIEL COONE. 119 
 
 flag, demanding, in the name of the King of 
 Great Britain, that the station should instantly 
 surrender. A council was immediately held 
 in the fort. With such a force before them, 
 Smith was in favor of meeting their proposal ; 
 Boone opposed it; the settlers backed him in 
 this opposition ; and he sent back for an an- 
 SNver to the Indians that the gates should 
 never be opened to them. Presently another 
 flag of truce was sent in, with a message that 
 they had a letter for Colonel Boone from 
 Governor Hamilton, of Detroit. Upon hearing 
 this, it was thought best that Boone and Smith 
 should go out to meet them, and hear what 
 they had to say. 
 
 Fifty yards from the fort they were met by 
 three chiefs, who received them very cordially, 
 and led them to the spot where they were to 
 hold the parley. Here they were seated upon 
 a panther's skin, while the Indians held 
 branches over their heads to protect them from 
 the sun. The chiefs then commenced talking 
 in a friendly way, and some of their warriors 
 now came forward, grounded their arms, and 
 shook hands with them. Then the letter of 
 
120 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 General Hamilton was read; he invited them 
 to surrender and come at once to Detroit, 
 where they should be treated with all kindness. 
 Smith objected to this proposal, declaring that 
 it was impossible for them, at this time, to 
 move their women and children ; but the 
 Indians had an answer ready : they had 
 brought forty horses with them, they said, 
 expressly to help them in removing. After a 
 long and friendly talk, the white men returned 
 to the fort, for the purpose, as they said, 
 of considering the proposal. They now in- 
 formed the settlers that the Indians had no 
 cannon, and advised them never to think of 
 surrendering. Every man thought the advice 
 good. 
 
 The Indians now sent in aimther flag, and 
 asked what treaty the whites were ready to 
 make. Boone, who had suspected treachery 
 all the time, at once sent a reply, that if 
 they wished to make a treaty, the place for 
 making it must be within thirty yards of the 
 fort. This displeased them at first, but at 
 last they consented. He then stationed, some 
 of his men, with their guns, in one angle of 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 121 
 
 the fort, with orders to fire if it became ne- 
 cessary, and, with Smith, started out to meet 
 them. After a long talk with thirty chiefs, 
 terms were agreed upon, and the treaty was 
 ready to be signed ; the chiefs now said that 
 it was customary with them, on such occasions, 
 for the Indians to shake hands with every 
 white man who signed the treaty, as a token 
 of the warmest friendship. Boone and Smith 
 agreed to this, and the shaking of hands com- 
 menced; presently, they found themselves 
 seized in the crowd — the Indians were drag- 
 ging them off; a fire from the fort now leveled 
 the savages who grasped them ; the rest were 
 in confusion, and, in the confusion, Boone and 
 Smith escaped and rushed into the fort. In 
 the struggle Qoone was wounded, though not 
 dangerously. It was a narrow escape for both 
 of them. 
 
 There was no more chance for deception 
 now ; the Indians were disappointed, and the 
 whites were provoked at their treachery. A 
 brisk firing now commenced on both sides; 
 Duquesne harangued the Indians and urged 
 them on, while the whites shouted from the 
 
122 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fort, upbraided them as ti'eacherous cowards, 
 and defied them. The attack was furious, the 
 firing was kept up till dark, and many an 
 Indian fell that day before Boonesborough. 
 The whites, sheltered by their pickets, made 
 easy havoc among them. 
 
 When night came, the exasperated Indians 
 crawled under the pickets and began to throw 
 burning materials into the fort, hoping to set 
 all on fire ; but in this they were disappointed 
 — there were ample supplies of water inside, 
 and the fire was put out as fast as it fell. 
 
 The next day the firing was resumed, and 
 day after day it continued, the Indians failing 
 to make any impression. They were too far 
 from the fort — the first day's work had taught 
 them not to come near. At last they formed 
 a wiser plan for doing mischief Eo ones- 
 borough, as you will remember, was only sixty 
 yards from the river, and they determined 
 by the advice of the Frenchman, to let the 
 water in and force the settlers out. In the 
 night they commenced the work of digging a 
 trench under ground, from the river. In the 
 morning, Boone looked out upon the river, and 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 123 
 
 perceiving that it was muddy, instantly guessed 
 the cause. He immediately set his men to 
 the work of cutting^ a trench inside the fort 
 to cross the subterr^^'3an passage of the In- 
 dians. The savagf'^ saw what was doing, 
 for Boone's men v*' % constantly shoveling 
 dirt over the pickets, but they persevered 
 earnestly in their design. At last, however, 
 they were forced to stop, for the dirt caved in 
 as fast as they dug ; disappointed in this, they 
 now summoned the station once more to a 
 treaty. But Boone laughed at them. "Do 
 you suppose," said he, "we would pretend 
 to treat with such treacherous wretches ? Fire 
 on, you only waste your powder; the gates 
 shall never be opened to you while there rs 
 a man of us living." Taking his advice, 
 they commenced their firing again ; at last, on 
 the ninth day of the siege, wearied with their 
 fruitless labor, they killed all the cattle they 
 could find, raised a yell, and departed. This 
 was a terrible siege for the Indians ; it is 
 said that they lost two hundred men ; Boone 
 counted thirty-seven chief warriors : while the 
 whites, defended by their pickets, had but two 
 
INDIAN WAEEIOE.— 124. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 125 
 
 killed and four wounded. You may judge, 
 too, how industrious the savages had been, 
 when I tell you that the whites who wanted 
 lead, commenced gathering their balls after they 
 left, and succeeded in picking out of the log 
 and from the ground, one hundred and twenty 
 five pounds. 
 
 Boone having thus successfully defended his 
 settlement, determined now to go in search 
 of his wife. Accustomed to traveling through 
 the woods, he soon made his lonely journey 
 to the Yndkin. They were amazed as he 
 entered the house of Mr. Bryan, his wife's 
 father. The appearance of one risen from 
 the grave could not have surprised them more 
 than that of Boone — the lost man was among 
 them, and great was their rejoicing. He now 
 remained here with his family for some time, 
 and here we will leave him for a little while, 
 to talk of what happened in Kentucky during 
 his absence. 
 
 The Kentuckians, roused by the Indian 
 hostility and treachery, determined soon after 
 he had left to inflict punishment upon them ; 
 against the Shawanese they were the most 
 
126 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 provoked ; it was among them that most of 
 the plots against the whites were formed, and 
 the attack^ therefore, was to be made upon 
 them. An army of one hundred and sixty 
 men was soon collected, and the command was 
 given to a brave man, named Colonel Bow- 
 man ; they were to march directly against Old 
 ChilHcothe, the den of the savages. 
 
 In July of this year (1779), they started 
 and reached the home of the Indians, without 
 being discovered. At day-light, the fight com- 
 menced and continued till ten o'clock. Bow- 
 man's men fought bravely, but the Indians 
 had every advantage. Knowing all the woods 
 about their settlement, while one party fought 
 openly, the other, concealed behind the grass 
 and trees, poured in a deadly fire upon the 
 whites. He was forced at last to retreat as 
 rapidly as possible to a distance of thirty 
 miles. But the Indians pursued him here, 
 doing more mischief than before. The Rava- 
 ges fought desperately. His men were falling 
 around him, and but Cor Colonel Harrod, every 
 man of them might have been killed. Seeing 
 the slaughter th.it was continually increasing, 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 127 
 
 he mounted a body of horsemen and made a 
 charge upon the enemy; this broke their 
 ranks, they were thrown into confusion, nnd 
 Bowman, with the remnant of his men, was 
 enabled to retreat. 
 
 This attack only exasperated the Indians. 
 In the course of the next summer (after doing 
 much mischief in a smaller way in the mean- 
 time), they gathered together to the number 
 of six hundred, and led on by Colonel Bird, 
 a British officer, came down upon Riddles and 
 Martin's stations, at the forks of Licking 
 river. They had with them six cannons, and 
 managed their matters so secretly, that the 
 first news of their approach was given to the 
 settlers by the roar of their guns. Of course 
 it was of no use to resist ; the pickets could 
 not defend them from cannon-balls ; the set- 
 tlers were forced to surrender. The savages 
 rushed into the station and instantly killed 
 one man and two women with their tomahawks ; 
 all the others, many of whom were sick, were 
 now loaded with baggage and forced to march 
 off with the Indians. It was certain death to 
 any one, old or young, male or female, who 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 129 
 
 became, on the march, too weak and exhausted 
 to travel farther ; they were instantly killed 
 with the tomahawk. 
 
 Flushed with success, the Indians were now 
 more troublesome than ever ; it was impossible 
 for the whites to remain in the country if 
 matters were to go on in this way. The 
 inhabitants at last threw themselves upon the 
 protection of Colonel Clarke, who commanded 
 a regiment of United States soldiers at the 
 falls of the Ohio. At the head of his men and 
 a large number of volunteers, he marched 
 against Pecaway, one of the principal towns of 
 the Shawanese ; numbers of the savages were 
 killed, and the town was burnt to ashes. This 
 was a triumph, but it was a triumph gained by 
 the loss of seventeen of his men. 
 
 In 1780, Boone again returned to Boones- 
 borough with his family, bringing with him also 
 a younger brother. The elder brother, (who 
 had been in Kentucky before, as you will 
 remember), now returned also and made his 
 home at a spot not far from the place where 
 the town of Shelby ville now stands. The set- 
 tlers were all delighted to see their old friend 
 9 
 
130 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Daniel Boodg once more among them; they 
 now felt that their leader was on the ground. 
 Mrs. Boone too felt happy. Though she was 
 again on the "dark and bloody ground," her 
 husband was with her. 
 
 In a little time his services were again espe- 
 cially needed. The want of salt, their old 
 trouble was upon them, and they looked to 
 Boone to procure it. Ever ready, he started 
 off with his youngest brother to the Blue 
 Licks, the place of his former trouble ; here 
 he was destined to meet with trouble again. 
 They had made as much salt as they could 
 carry, and were now returning to Boones- 
 borough with their packs, when they were 
 suddenly overtaken by a party of savages ; the 
 Indians immediately fired, and Boone's brother 
 fell dead. Daniel Boone turned, leveled his 
 rifle at the foremost Indian, and brought him 
 down ; with a loud yell the party now rushed 
 toward him. He snatched his brother's rifle, 
 leveled another and then ran. The Indians 
 gave chase, but he managed to keep ahead, 
 and even found time to reload his rifle. He 
 knew that his only chance for escape was to 
 
COLONEL D-ANIEL BOONE. 131 
 
 distance them, and break his trail. He passed 
 the brow of a hill, jumped into a brook below, 
 waded in it for some distance, and then struck 
 off at right angles from his old course. Upon 
 looking back he found, to his sorrow, that he 
 had not succeeded — the Indians were still on 
 his track. Presently, he came to a grape- 
 vine, and tried his old experiment at breaking 
 the trail. This was to no purpose, he found 
 the savages still following him. After trav- 
 eling some distance farther, upon looking round 
 he saw the cause of his trouble ; the Indians 
 had a dog with them, and this dog, scenting his 
 track, kept them forever on his course. His 
 rifle was loaded — the dog was far ahead of 
 the party — and Boone sent a rifle ball through 
 him. He now pushed on, doubling his course 
 from time to time ; the Indians lost track of 
 him, and he reached Boonesborough in safety. 
 In spite of the continued annoyance of 
 the Indians, the white settlements had con- 
 tinued to grow, and there were now so many 
 white men in the country, that in the fall of 
 this year (1780), Kentucky was divided into 
 the three counties of Jelferson, Fayette, and 
 
132 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP 
 
 Lincoln. Our friend, Daniel Boone, was ap- 
 pointed to command the militia in his county, 
 and William Pope and Benjamin Logan, two 
 bra.ve men, were to have the command in 
 theirs. 
 
 The winter of this year soon set in, and 
 it proved a hard one. The settlers, however, 
 bore it cheerfully, for they were accustomed to 
 hardships. Hard as it was, too, it proved mild 
 to the next that followed. The winter of 1781 
 was long remembered as "the cold winter" 
 in Kentucky. To make it harder, the In- 
 dians, after doing much mischief through the 
 summer, had destroyed most of the crops the 
 'preceding fall, and the settlers had small sup- 
 plies of food. But the forest was around them ; 
 Boone and Harrod were among them, and 
 these two men found food enough. Every 
 day they went out in the winter's storms — 
 every night they came in laden with deer 
 and buffaloes. The 'people learned to live on 
 nothing but meat. Boone and Harrod drove 
 away all thoughts of starvation. They had, 
 however, this one comfort : the cold weather 
 kept the Indians at home. They had no 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 133 
 
 disturbances throughout the winter from 
 them. 
 
 When spring opened, however, the savages 
 showed themselves more furious, if possible, 
 than ever. Their plans of mischief were better 
 laid ; they seemed to have been feeding their 
 revenge fat. Open and secret war was all 
 around the settlers. It would be idle for me 
 to attempt to give details of the doings of 
 the savages. Ashton's, Hoy's, M'Afee's, Kiu- 
 cheloe'S; and Boone's stations, near Shelbyville, 
 were all attacked. Men were shot down in 
 the open fields, or waylaid in every pathway. 
 The early annals of Kentucky are filled with 
 stories of many a brave white man at this 
 time. Three were Ashton, Holden, Lyn, 
 Tipton, Chapman, White, Boone, Floyd, Wells, 
 the M'Afees, M'Gary, Randolph, Reynolds, and 
 others, some of whom were killed, and all 
 of whom had their hard struggles. The his- 
 tory of that spring is only a story of burn- 
 ings, captures, and murders, on the part of 
 the savages. It was a dark period for the 
 white men ; even Boone, with all his vigor 
 and fearlessness, thought it the darkest period 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 135 
 
 he had known in that region. The savages 
 seemed bent upon a war of extermination. 
 
 Not satisfied with such mischief as they had 
 already done, in the early part of the summer 
 the savages held a grand council at Old Chil- 
 licothe, to arrange their plans for further de- 
 struction. There were chiefs there from the 
 Cherokees, Wyandots, Tawas, Pottawattomies, 
 and most of the tribes bordering on the lakes. 
 Two notorious white villains — whose names will 
 never be forgotten in Kentucky — were there 
 also, to aid them with their counsels. These 
 were Girty and M'Kee, infamous men, who 
 lived among the Indians, and lived only by 
 murdering their own countrymen. Their pla-n 
 was soon settled. Bryant's station, near Lex- 
 ington, was known to be a strong post, and 
 this was to be attacked. This station had 
 within it forty cabins, and here it was thought 
 they might make the greatest slaughter. The 
 warriors were to gather as rapidly as possible 
 for the enterprise. 
 
 In a little time, five hundred of them rallied 
 at Girty 's cabin, ready for their departure. 
 The white . rascal then made a speech to 
 
136 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 them. He told them that " Kentucky was a 
 beautiful hunting-ground, filled with deer and 
 buffaloes for their comfort; the white men 
 had come to drive them away ; the ground 
 was now red with the blood of the red men 
 that had been slain. But vengeance they would 
 have — now, before the whites were yet fastened 
 in their country, they would strike a blow, and 
 drive them off forever." Then he talked of 
 the plan before them. He advised them to 
 descend the Miami in their canoes, cross the 
 Ohio, ascend the Licking, and then they might 
 paddle their boats almost to the station. His 
 speech was answered by a loud yell from the 
 Indians^ and they all started for their boats — 
 Simon Girty, with his ruffled shirt and soldier 
 coat, marching at their head. 
 
 On the night of the 15th of August, they 
 arrived before the station. In the morning, 
 as the gates opened, the men were fired at 
 by the savages, and this was the first news to 
 the whites of the approach of the enemy. 
 It was fortunate that they had shown them- 
 selves thus e nrly : in two hours more most 
 of the men were to have started ofl' to aid 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 137 
 
 a distant feeble station. As soon as the 
 whites found they were besieged, they man- 
 aged to send off the news to Lexington. 
 
 The Indians now, as usual, commenced their 
 stratagems. The large body concealed them- 
 selves in the grass near the pathway to the 
 spring, while one hundred went round and 
 attacked the southeast angle of the station. 
 Their hope was to draw the whites all to that 
 quarter, while they forced an entrance on the 
 other side. But the white men understood 
 this sort of cunning ; they had all lived among 
 the Indians too long to be caught by such 
 tricks : instead of noticing the attack, they 
 went on quietly with the work of repairing 
 and strengthening their palisades. 
 
 But water, one of the necessaries of life, was 
 soon wanting. The whites, as they looked at 
 the tall grass and weeds near the spring, felt 
 that Indians were lurking there. The women 
 now came forward and insisted upon it that 
 they would go and bring water. " What if they 
 do shoot us?" They said; "is it better to 
 lose a woman than a man at such a time ? " 
 With that they started out, and, strange to 
 
138 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tell, went back and forth, bringing large sup- 
 plies of water, without any diiiiculty. Some 
 of the young men now went out upon the 
 same purpose. They had scarcely left the 
 station, when they were fired upon. Fortu- 
 nately, the Indians were too far to do any 
 mischief; the men retreated rapidly within the 
 pahsades. The Indians, finding their strata- 
 gem fruitless, now rushed forward, and com- 
 menced a tremendous attack. The whites re- 
 ceived them with a steady fire, and many of 
 them fell. Enraged the more, they now dis- 
 charged their burning arrows into the roofs 
 of the houses; some of the cabins were 
 burnt, but an east wind was blowing at the 
 time, and that saved the station. 
 
 The enemy now fell back into the grass. 
 They had found out, in some way, that help 
 was expected from Lexington, and they were 
 preparing to cut it off. In a little time, all 
 was still. Presently sixteen horsemen, followed 
 by thirty-one foot soldiers, were seen coming ; 
 these were the men from Lexington. Think- 
 ing only of the distress of their friends, they 
 were hurrying along, when the Indians opened 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 139 
 
 a fire upon them. The horsemen galloped 
 off in a cloud of dust, and r.eached the sta- 
 tion in safety. The soldiers on foot, in their 
 effort to escape, plunged into the cornfields on 
 either side of the road, only to meet the 
 enemy. A desperate fight commenced on both 
 sides : two soldiers were killed ; the rest, four 
 of them having dangerous wounds — reached 
 the pickets. The exasperated Indians, disap- 
 pointed at the escape of this party, now 
 wreaked their vengeance by kiihng all the 
 cattle they could find. 
 
 Finding all their efforts to enter the sta- 
 tion idle, Simon Girty now came near enough 
 to be heard, mounted a stump, and holding 
 in his hand a flag of truce, began to talk. 
 ^' Surrender promptly," cried Simon ; '^ if you 
 surrender promptly, no blood will be shed ; 
 but if you will not surrender, then know that 
 our cannons and reinforcements are coming. 
 We will batter down your pickets as we did 
 at Riddles and Martin's; every man of you 
 shall be slain ; two are dead already — four 
 are wounded; every man shall die." This 
 language was so insolent, that some of the 
 
140 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 settlers cried out, " Shoot the rascal ! " No 
 man, however, lifted his rifle ; the flag of truce 
 protected him. " I am under a flag of truce," 
 cried Simon; *'do you know who it is that 
 speaks to you ? " 
 
 Upon this, a young man named Reynolds 
 leaped up and cried out, "Know you! know 
 you ! yes, we know you well. Know Simon 
 Girty ! yes : he is the renegado, cowardly 
 villain, who loves to murder women and chil- 
 dren, especially those of his own people. Know 
 Simon Girty ! yes : his father must have been 
 a panther, and his mother n wolf. I have a 
 worthless dog that kills lambs : instead of 
 shooting him, I have named him Simon Girty. 
 You expect reinforcements, and cannon, do 
 you? Cowardly wretches like you, that make 
 war upon women and children, would not dare 
 to touch them oflj if you had them. We 
 expect reinforcements, too, and in numbers to 
 give a short account of the murdering cowards 
 that follow you. Even if you could batter 
 down our pickets, I for one, hold your people 
 in te-o much contempt to shoot rifles at them. 
 I would not waste powder and ball upon you. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 141 
 
 Should you even enter our fort, I am ready 
 for you ; I have roasted a number of hickory 
 switches, with which we mean to whip you and 
 your naked cut-throats out of the country ! " 
 Simon was now furious ; cursing and swear- 
 ing, he went back to his friends, amid the loud 
 laughs and jeers of the whites. In a little 
 time, the firing was renewed; it was all to 
 no purpose : no white man suffered, and every 
 Indian who came within gun-shot of the fort 
 was sure to fall. In the course of the night, 
 the whole party sneaked off, and their tracks 
 indicated that they had started for the Blue 
 Licks. They left behind them thirty of 
 their number slain. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 143 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Colonel Todd, of Lexington, instantly dis- 
 patched news of this attack on Bryant's 
 station, to Colonel Boone, at Boonesborough, 
 and Colonel Trigg, near Harrodsburgh. In a 
 little time one hundred and seventy-six men 
 were collected under these three officers, to 
 march in pursuit. Majors M'Gary and Harland 
 now joined them, determined that they would 
 have a part in the punishment of the sav- 
 ages. It was known, too, that Colonel Logan 
 was collecting a force, and a council of officers 
 was at once held to determine whether they 
 should march on, or wait for him. They 
 were all so eager to be off, that it was thought 
 best to march immediately. The march was 
 therefore commenced forthwith. 
 
 Following on in the trail of the Indians, 
 they had not gone far, when Boone saw enough 
 to convince him that the Indians would not 
 only be willing, but glad to meet them. No 
 effort had been made to conceal their trail ; 
 
144 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the trees were even marked on their pathway, 
 that the whites might follow on; and they 
 had tried to conceal their numbers, by treading 
 in each other's footsteps. He called the atten- 
 tion of his comrades to this, but still they pro- 
 ceeded onward. 
 
 They saw no Indians until they came to 
 the Licking river, not far from the Blue 
 Licks. A party was now seen on the other 
 side of the stream, leisurely crossing a hill. 
 A council was at once held, and the officers 
 all turned to Boone for advice. His advice 
 was given frankly: he was for waiting till 
 Logan should arrive with his men. The In- 
 dian party, he felt assured, was at the least 
 from four to five hundred strong, and the 
 unconcerned miode in which the Indians 
 crossed the hill showed that the main body 
 was near, and their design was to draw them 
 over the river. Moreover, he was acquainted 
 with all that region of the country. After 
 they crossed the ford, they would come upon 
 deep ravines not far from the bank, where, no 
 doubt, they were in ambush. If, however, they 
 were determined not to wait for Logan, he 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 145 
 
 advised that the country might at least be 
 reconnoitered before the attack was made. 
 A part of the men, he thought, might cross 
 the stream, and move up cautiously on the 
 other side, while the remainder would stand 
 where they were, ready to assist them at the 
 first alarm. Todd and Trigg thought the ad- 
 vice good, and were disposed to heed it ; but, 
 just at this moment, M'Gary, more hot-headed 
 than wise, spurred his horse into the water, 
 gave the Kentucky war-whoop, and cried out, 
 "All those who are not cowards will follow 
 me ; I will show them where the Indians are." 
 The men were roused by this show of bravery, 
 and they all crossed the ford. 
 
 The banks were steep on the other side, 
 and many of them now dismounted, tied their 
 horses, and commenced marching on foot. 
 M'Gary and Harland led the way. They 
 had not proceeded far when they came to 
 one of the ravines. It was just as Boone had 
 supposed; the savages were in ambush. A 
 deadly fire was now poured in upon the whites ; 
 the men staggered and fell in every direction. 
 The fire was returned, but to little purpose, for 
 10 
 
146 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the enemy was completely concealed ; a retreat 
 was all that was left. The whites hurried back 
 toward the river ; the Indians pursued ; and 
 now commenced the slaughter with the toma- 
 hawk. The ford was narrow, and multitudes 
 were slaughtered there. Some were trying 
 to get to thtir horses ; others, more fortunate 
 were mounted and flying : and some were 
 plunging into the stream. In the midst of 
 all this confusion, the Indians were doing 
 their work of destruction. 
 
 A man by the name of Netherland (who 
 had been laughed at for his cowardice) had 
 never dismounted his horse, and was the first 
 to reach the opposite shore. In a little time, 
 some of his comrades were around him. He 
 now turned, and, looking back, saw the mas- 
 sacre that was going on. This was more than 
 he Could bear. "Halt! fire on the Indians," 
 cried he ; protect the men in the river." 
 With this, the men wheeled, fired, and rescued 
 several poor fellows in the stream, over whom 
 the tomahawk was lifted. 
 
 Reynolds, the man who answered Girty's 
 insolence, made a narrow escape. Finding, 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 147 
 
 in the retreat, one of the officers wounded, he 
 gave him his horse, and was soon after taken 
 by three Indians. They were now over him, 
 ready to dispatch him, when two retreating 
 white men rushed by. Two of the savages 
 started in pursuit; the third stooped for an 
 instant to tie his moccasin, when Reynolds 
 sprang away from him and escaped. 
 
 This was a terrible battle for the white men. 
 More than sixty of their number were slain, 
 and among them were most of their officers 
 Colonels Todd and Trigg, Majors Harland and 
 Bulger, Captains Gordon and M'Bride, and a 
 son of Colonel Boone, were all amoug the 
 dead. 
 
 Those who had regained the other shore, not 
 having strength to rally, started homeward in 
 great sadness. On their way they met Col- 
 onel Logan. He had gone to Bryant's sta- 
 tion with his five hundred men, and was 
 greatly disappointed when he found they had 
 all started without him ; he pushed on, how- 
 ever, as rapidly as he could, hoping to over- 
 take them before they made their attack on 
 the savages. The sad story of the defeat 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 149 
 
 was soon told. All that remained now was 
 to go back, and, if possible, bury the dead. 
 Upon this sad business Logan continued his 
 march. Upon reaching the ground, the specta- 
 cle was awful : the dead bodies were strewn 
 over it just as they had fallen, the heat was 
 intense, and birds of prey were feeding upon 
 the carcasses. The bodies - - re so mangled 
 and changed, that no man could be distin- 
 guished;- friends could not recognize their 
 nearest relatives. The dead were buried as 
 rapidly as possible, and Logan left the scene 
 in great sorrow. 
 
 Nor was this all the carnage. The Lidians, 
 after the defeat, had scattered, and it was soon 
 found that on their way homeward they had 
 swept through several settlements, carrying 
 destruction before them. Emboldened by their 
 triumph, no man could tell what they might 
 next attempt. It was no time for the whites 
 to be idle. They soon rallied in large num- 
 bers at Fort Washington, the present site of 
 the city of Cincinnati. General Clarke was 
 at once made commander-in-chief, and Colonel 
 Logan was placed next under him in com- 
 
150 LIFE AND ADVEiNTURES OF 
 
 mand. Clarke immediately started with a 
 thousand men to attack the Indian towns on 
 the Miami. On his way he came upon the 
 cabin of Simon Girty ; it was fortunate for 
 Simon that a straggling Indian spied Clarke's 
 men coming, in time to let him escape. The 
 news was now spread every where that an 
 army of white men was coming from Ken- 
 tucky. The consequence was, that as Clarke 
 approached the towns, he found them all 
 deserted ; the Indians had fled to the woods. 
 His march, however, was not made for nothing. 
 The towns of Old and New Chillicothe, Peca- 
 way, and Wills' Town, were all reduced to 
 ashes. One old Indian warrior was surprised, 
 and surrendered himself a prisoner. This 
 man, to the great sorrow of General Clarke, 
 was afterward murdered by one of the soldiers. 
 Notwithstanding this punishment, Indian 
 massacres still went on. Stories of savage 
 butchery, were heard of every where; every 
 station that they dared approach felt their 
 fury, and the poor settler who had built his 
 cabin away from any station was sure to be 
 visited. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 151 
 
 General Clarke started out again, against the 
 Indians on the Wabash. Unfortunately, his 
 expedition failed this time, for the want of 
 provisions for his men. Another expedition 
 of Colonel Logan, against the Shavvanese In- 
 dians, was more successful. He surprised one 
 of their towns, killed many of their warriors, 
 and took many prisoners. 
 
 The war had now become so serious, that 
 in the fall of 1785, the General Government 
 invited all the lake and Ohio tribes of In- 
 dians to meet at the mouth of the great 
 Miami. It was hoped that in this way mat- 
 ters might be settled peaceably. But many 
 of the tribes were insolent and ill-natured ; 
 they refused to come in, giving as an ex- 
 cuse that the Kentuckians were forever mo- 
 lesting them. Emboldened by the very invi- 
 tation, they continued the warfare more vigor- 
 ously than ever. They not only assaulted the 
 settlements already made, but made an attempt 
 to guard the Ohio river, to prevent any further 
 settlers from reaching the country in that 
 direction. Small parties placed themselves at 
 different points on the river, from Pittsburg 
 
15^ LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to Louisville, where they laid in ambush and 
 fired upon every boat that passed. Sometimes 
 they would make false signals, decoy the boat 
 ashore, and murder the whole crew. They even 
 went so far at last as to arm and man the 
 boats they had taken, and cruise up and down 
 the river. 
 
 I must tell you of a very bold defense made 
 on the Ohio about this time by a Captain 
 liubbel, who was bringing a party of emigrants 
 from Vermont. His party was in two boats, 
 and consisted in all of twenty. As liabbel 
 came down the river, he fell in with other boats, 
 was told of the Indian stratagems, and advised 
 to be careful. Indeed, the inmates of some 
 of the boats begged that he would continue 
 in their company, and thus they would be able 
 to meet the Indians better if they should be 
 attacked ; the stronger the party, the better, 
 in such a condition. But liubbel refused to 
 do this, and proceeded onward. He had not 
 gone far, when a man on the shore began to 
 make signs of distress, and begged that the 
 boat might come and take him off. Hubbel 
 knew well enou.o:h that this was an Indian dis- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 153 
 
 guised as a white man, and therefore took no 
 notice of him. In a little time, a party of 
 savages pushed off in their boats, and at- 
 tacked him fiercely. The fight was hot on 
 both sides. The savages tried to board liub- 
 bel's boat, but the fire was too hot for this- 
 Hubbel received two wounds, and had the 
 lock of his gun shot off by an Indian ; still 
 he fought, touching off his broken gun from 
 time to time with a fire-brand. The Indians 
 found the struggle too hard, and were glad to 
 paddle off. Presently they returned, and 
 attacked the other boat; this they seized 
 almost without an effort, killed the captain 
 and a boy, and took all the women as pris- 
 oners to their own boats. Now they came 
 once more against Hubbel, and cunningly placed 
 the women on the sides of their boats as a 
 sort of bulwark. But this did not stop Hub- 
 bel : he saw that his balls must strike the 
 women ; but it was better that they should 
 be killed now, rather than suffer a death of 
 torture from the savages, and the fire was 
 at once opened upon them again. They were 
 soon driven once more. In the course of the 
 
154 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 action, however, Ilubbel's boat drifted near the 
 shore, and five hundred savages renewed the 
 fire upon them. One of the emigrants, more 
 imprudent than the rest, seeing a fine chance 
 for a shot, raised his head to take aim, and 
 was instantly killed by a ball. The boat drifted 
 along, and at length reached deep water again. 
 It was then found, that of the nine men on 
 board, two only had escaped unhurt ; two were 
 killed, and two mortally wounded. A remark- 
 able lad on board showed great courage. He 
 now asked his friends to extract a ball that 
 had lodged in the skin of his forehead ; and 
 when this was done, he begged that they 
 would take out a piece of bone that had been 
 fractured in his elbow by another ball. His 
 poor frightened mother, seeing his suffering, 
 asked him why he had not complained before ; 
 to which the little fellow replied that he had 
 been too busy, and, besides that, the captain 
 had told them all to make no noise. 
 
 It was idle to attempt now to settle mat- 
 ters peaceably. The general government had 
 tried that and the plan had fliiled. The war 
 was now to be carried on to a close, come 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 155 
 
 what might An expedition was accordingly 
 planned, against all the tribes northwest of 
 the Ohio. The Indians were to be brought 
 out, if possible to a general fight ; or if that 
 could not be done, all their towns and cabins 
 on the Scioto and Wabash, were to be destroy- 
 ed. General Harniar was appointed commander 
 of the main expedition, and Major Hamtrank 
 was to aid him with a smaller party. 
 
 In the fall of 1791, Harmar started from 
 Fort Washington with three hundred and twenty 
 men. In a little time he was joined by the 
 Kentucky and Pennsylvania mihtia, so tkit 
 his whole force now amounted to fourteen 
 hundred and fifty-three men. Colonel Hardin, 
 who commanded the Kentucky militia, was 
 now sent ahead with six hundred men, princi- 
 pally militia, to reconnoiter the country. 
 Upon reaching the Indian settlements, the sav- 
 ages set fire to their houses and fled ; to over- 
 take them, he pushed on with two hundred of 
 his men. A party of Indians met and attacked 
 them. The cowardly militia ran ofi; leaving 
 their brave companions to be slaughtered. It 
 was a brave struggle, but almost all were cut 
 
156 LIFE AND ADVENTUllES OF 
 
 down ; only seven men escaped to join the 
 main army. 
 
 Ilarmar felt deeply mortified. He com- 
 menced forthwith his return to Fort Washing- 
 ton, but determined that, on the way, he 
 would wipe otf this disgrace from his army. 
 Upon coming near Chiliicothe he accordingly 
 halted, and in the night dispatched Colonel 
 Hardin once more ahead, with orders to find 
 the enemy and draw them into an engage- 
 ment. About daybreak Hardin came upon 
 them, and the battle commenced. It was a 
 desperate fight on both sides. Some of the 
 militia acted badly again, but the ofiicers 
 behaved nobly. The victory was claimed on 
 both sides, but I think the Indians had the 
 best of it. Three gallant ofiicers, Fontaine, 
 Willys, and Frothingham, were slain, together 
 with fifty regulars and one hundred militia. 
 
 Harmar now moved on to Fort Washington. 
 So much was said about his miserable campaign, 
 that he requested that he might be tried by 
 a court martial. Accordingly he was tried and 
 honorably acquitted. 
 
 A new army was soon raised, and the com- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 157 
 
 mand was now given to Major-General Ar- 
 thur St. Clair. His plan was to destroy the 
 Indian settlements between the Miamies, drive 
 the savages from that region, and establish a 
 chain of military posts there, which should 
 forever keep them out of the country. All 
 having rallied at Fort Washington, he started 
 off in the direction of the Miami towns. It was 
 a hard march, for he was forced to cut his 
 road as he passed along. Upon arriving near 
 the Indian country, he built forts Hamilton 
 and Jef!erson and garrisoned tbem. This left 
 him nearly two thousand men to proceed with. 
 In a little time some of the worthless militia 
 deserted. This was a bad example to the 
 rest, and St. Clair instantly sent Major Ham- 
 tranck, with a regiment, in pursuit of them, 
 while he continued his march. When he arrived 
 within fifteen miles of the Miami villages 
 he halted and encamped; he was soon after 
 joined by Mnjor Hamtranck, and St. Clair pro- 
 posed now immediately to march against the 
 enemy. 
 
 But the enemy had already got news of 
 them, and had made ready. They were deter- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 159 
 
 mined to have the first blow themselves. At 
 daybreak the next morning, the savages at- 
 tacked the militia and drove them back *in 
 confusion. These broke through the regulars, 
 forcing their way into the camp, the Indians 
 pressing hard on their heels. The officers 
 tried to restore order, but to no purpose : the 
 fight now became general. This, however, was 
 only a small part of the Indian force — there 
 were four thousand of the party ; they had 
 nearly surrounded the camp, and sheltered by 
 the trees and grass as usual, were pouring in 
 a deadly fire upon the whites. St. Clair and 
 all his officers behaved with great courage. 
 Finding his men falling fast around him, he 
 ordered a charge to be made with the bayo- 
 net. The men swept through the long grass 
 driving the Indians before them. The charge 
 had no sooner ceased than the Indians re- 
 turned. Some forced their way into the camp, 
 killed the artillerists, wounded Colonel Butler, 
 and seized the cannon. Wounded as he was, 
 Butler drove them back and recovered the guns. 
 Fired with new ardor, they returned again, once 
 more entered the camp — once more had pos- 
 
160 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 session of the cannon. All was now confusion 
 among the whites — it was impossible to re- 
 store order — the Indians brought them down 
 in masses — a retreat was all that remained. 
 But they were so hemmed in, that this seemed 
 impossible. Colonel Darke was ordered to 
 charge the snvages behind them, while Major 
 Clarke with his battalion was commanded to 
 cover the rear of the army. These orders were 
 instantly obeyed, and the disorderly retreat 
 commenced. The Indians pursued them four 
 miles, keeping up a running fight. At last 
 their chief, a Mississago, who had been trained 
 to war by the British, cried out to them to 
 stop as they had killed enough. They then 
 returned to plunder the camp and divide the 
 spoils, while the routed troops continued their 
 flight to Fort Jefferson, throwing away their 
 arms on the roadside that they might run 
 faster. The Indians found in the camp seven 
 pieces of cannon, two hundred oxen, and sev- 
 eral horses, and had a great rejoicing. Well 
 might the Mississago chief tell his people that 
 they had killed enough; thirty-eight commis- 
 sioned officers were slain, and five hundred and 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 161 
 
 ninety-three non-commissioned officers and 
 privates. Besides this, twenty-one officers and 
 two hundred and forty-two men were wounded, 
 some of whom soon died of their wounds. 
 
 This was a most disastrous battle for the 
 whites, the most disastrous they had yet 
 known. The triumphant Indians were so de- 
 lighted that they could not leave the field, 
 but kept up their revels from day to day. 
 Their revels, however, were at length broken 
 up sorrowfully for them. General Scott, hear- 
 ing of the disaster, pushed on for the field 
 with one thousand mounted volunteers from 
 Kentucky. The Indians were dancing and 
 singing, and riding the horses and oxen in 
 high glee. Scott instantly attacked them ; two 
 hundred were killed, their plunder retaken, 
 and the whole body of savages were driven 
 from the ground. 
 
 When Congress met soon after this, of course 
 this wretched Indian war was much talked of. 
 It was proposed at once to raise three addi- 
 tional regiments. Upon this a hot debate 
 sprang up, the proposal was opposed warmly; 
 
 the opponents said that it would be necessary 
 n 
 
162 LIFK AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to lay a heavy tax upon the people to raise 
 them, that the war had been badly managed, 
 and should have been trusted to the militia in 
 the west under their own officers, and, more- 
 over, that no success could be expected so 
 long as the British continued to hold posts in 
 our own limits, and lurnish the Indians with 
 arms, ammunition, and advice. 
 
 On the other hand, it was declared that the 
 war was a just and necessary one. It was 
 shown that in seven years (between 1783 and 
 1790), fifteen hundred people in Kentucky 
 had been murdered or taken captives by the 
 savages; while in Pennsylvania and Virginia 
 matters had been well nigh as bad ; that 
 every thing had been done to settle mat- 
 ters peaceably but all to no purpose. In 
 1790, when a treaty was proposed to the In- 
 dians of the Miami, they asked for thirty days 
 to deliberate — the request was granted — during 
 those thirty days one hundred and twenty per- 
 sons had been killed or captured, and at the 
 end of the time the savages refused to give 
 any answer to the proposal. At last the vote 
 was taken — the resolution passed — the war was 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 163 
 
 to be carried on— the regiments were to be 
 raised. 
 
 General St. Clair now resigned the com- 
 mand of the army, and Major General An- 
 thony Wayne was appointed to succeed him. 
 This appointment gave great joy to the western 
 people ; the man was so well known among 
 them for his daring and bravery, that he 
 commonly went by the name of "Mad 
 Anthony." 
 
 After much delay, the regiments were at 
 length gathered together. Some still opposed 
 this war, and in order to prove to them that 
 the government was willing to settle matters 
 peaceably, if possible, two officers — Colonel 
 Hardin and Major Truman, were now sent 
 off to the Indians with proposals of peace. 
 They were both seized and murdered by the 
 savages. 
 
 Wayne now started out upon his expedition. 
 In a little time he passed Fort Jefferson, 
 took possession of St. Clair's fatal field, and 
 erected a fort their which he called Fort Re- 
 covery. He now learned the truth of the 
 stories about the British. A number of Brit- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 165 
 
 ish soldiers had come djwn from Detroit, and 
 fortified themselves on the Miami of the lakes. 
 It was rumored too, that in some of the 
 Indian fights and massacres, the English were 
 seen among them, fighting and urging 
 them on. 
 
 The General continued his march, and early 
 in August reached the confluence of the Miami 
 of the Lakes and the Au Glaize. This was 
 one of the finest countries of the Indians, it 
 was about thirty miles from the British post, 
 and he discovered here, that two thousand 
 warriors were near that post ready to meet him. 
 Wayne was glad to hear this; his army was 
 quite as strong, and he longed to meet the 
 savages. As he drew near, however, he deter- 
 mined once more to have peace if possible, 
 without shedding blood. A message was sent 
 to the Indians, urging them not to follow 
 the advice of bad men, to lay down their 
 arms, to learn to live peaceably, and .their 
 lives and their homes should be protected by 
 the government. An insolent answer was all 
 that was received in reply. 
 
 Wayne's army now marched on in columns 
 
166 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP 
 
 — a select battalion, under Major Price, 
 moving in front to reconnoiter. After march- 
 ing about five miles, Price was driven back by 
 the fire of the Indians. As usual, the cun- 
 ning enemy was concealed ; they had hid them- 
 selves in a thick wood a little in advance of 
 the British post, and here Price had re- 
 ceived their fire. 
 
 Wayne had now found out precisely where 
 they were, and gave his orders accordingly. 
 The cavalry under Captain Campbell were 
 commanded to enter the wood in the rear of 
 the Indians, between them and the river, and 
 charge their left flank. General Scott with 
 eleven hundred mounted Kentucky volunteers, 
 was to make a circuit in the opposite direc- 
 tion, and attack the right. The infantry were 
 to advance with trailed arms, and rouse the 
 enemy from their hiding places. All being 
 ready, the infantry commenced their march. 
 The Indians were at once routed at the point 
 of the bayonet. The infantry had done the 
 whole ; Campbell and Scott had hardly the 
 chance of doing any fighting. In the course 
 of an hour, they bad driven the savages back 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 167 
 
 two miles — in fact, within gun-shot of the 
 British post. 
 
 Wayne had now the po-ssession of the whole 
 ground, and here he remained three days, 
 burning their houses and cornfields above and 
 below the fort. One Englishman suffered, 
 too, in this work of destruction. Colonel 
 M'Kee was known as a British trader, forever 
 instigating the Indians against the Americans, 
 and Wayne did not scrapie to burn all his 
 houses and stores likewise. Major Campbell, 
 who commanded the British fort, remonstrated 
 at this, but Wayne gave him a bold and 
 determined answer in reply, and he had no 
 more to say. A few words from him would 
 only have caused Wayne to have drove him 
 from the country. 
 
 The army now returued to Au Glaize, de- 
 stroying all the houses, villages, and crops 
 by the way. It was one complete work of 
 destruction ; within fifty miles of the river 
 every thing was destroyed. In this campaign, 
 Wayne had lost one hundred and seven men, 
 and among them were two brave officers — 
 Captain Campbell and Lieutenant Towles, bat 
 

 168 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 still he had gained a glorious victory. In his 
 track, too, he had not forgotten to build forts, 
 to guard against the savages in future. 
 
 The story of the victory soon spread, and 
 struck terror to the hearts of the Indians north 
 and south. They were restless and dissatis- 
 fied, but war was sure destruction to them; 
 they felt that it was idle to attempt it further, 
 and were ready to be quiet. In less than a 
 year from this time, Wayne concluded a treaty, 
 in behalf of the United States, with all the 
 Indian tribes northwest of the Ohio. The set- 
 tlers at last had peace — a blessing which they 
 had long desired. 
 
 • 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 169 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 With the return of peace the settlers were 
 very happy. They could now go out, fell 
 the forests, and cultivate their fields in safety. 
 There was no longer any wily savage to lay in 
 ambush, and keep them in perpetual anxiety. 
 No man among them was happier than Boone. 
 He had been harassed by constant struggles 
 ever since .he came to Kentucky, and these 
 struggles with the savages had made him a 
 warrior rather than a hunter; but he could 
 now return to his darling passion. While others 
 cultivated the ground, he roamed through the 
 wilderness with his rifle ; he was now a hunter 
 indeed, spending weeks and months uninter- 
 ruptedly in the forests. By day he moved 
 where he pleased, and at night made his camp 
 fearlessly wherever the shades of night over- 
 took him. His life was now happier than 
 ^ver. ^ 
 
 Ere lon^, however, a cloud came over this 
 happiness. Men began again to crowd too 
 
SHOOTING A WILD CAT.-l 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 171 
 
 closely upon him. In spite of all the early 
 struggles with the savages in Kentucky, emi- 
 grants had continued to flow into that country. 
 As early as 1783, Kentucky had been laid 
 ofif into three counties, and was that year 
 formed into one district, and called the dis- 
 trict of Kentucky. In 1785, a convention 
 was called at Danville, and a memorial was 
 addressed to the legislature of Virginia, pro- 
 posing that Kentucky should be erected into 
 an independent State. In 1786, the legisla- 
 ture of Virginia took the necessary steps for 
 making the new State, if Congress would 
 admit it into the Union. In 1792, Kentucky 
 was admitted into the Union as one of the 
 United States of America. And now that 
 peace had come to aid the settlers, emigration 
 flowed in more rapidly. Court-houses, jails, 
 judges, lawyers, sheriffs, and constables began 
 necessarily to be seen. Kentucky was be- 
 coming every day a more settled and civilized 
 region, and Boone's heart grew sick. He had 
 sought the wilderness, and men were fast 
 taking it away from him. He began to think 
 of moving. 
 
172 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Another sorrow now came over him, and soon 
 fixed in him the determination to seek a new 
 home. Men began to dispute with him the 
 title to his land. The State of Kentucky had 
 not been surveyed by the government, and 
 laid off into sections and townships, as the 
 lands north of the Ohio river have since been. 
 The government of Virginia had issued cer- 
 tificates, entitling the holder to locate where 
 he pleased, the number of acres called for. 
 To actual settlers, who should build a cabin, 
 raise a crop, &c., pre-emption rights to such 
 lands as they might occupy were also granted. 
 
 Entries of these certificates were made in a 
 way so loose, that different men frequently 
 located the same lands ; one title would often 
 lap over upon another; and almost all the 
 titles conferred in this way became known as 
 "the lapping, or shingle titles." Continued 
 lawsuits sprang out of this state of things ; 
 no man knew what belonged to him. Boone 
 had made these loose entries of bis lands : his 
 titles, of course, were disputed. It was curious 
 to see the old man in a cDurt of law, which 
 he thoroughly despised, fighting for his rights. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 173 
 
 He was greatly provoked ; he had explored 
 and redeemed the wilderness, as he said, borne 
 every hardship with his wife and children, only 
 to be cheated at last. But the law decided 
 against him; he lost his lands, and would 
 now no longer remain in that region. 
 
 Hearing that buffaloes and deer were still 
 plenty about the Great Kanhawa river, he 
 started thither with his wife and children, and 
 settled near Point Pleasant. Here he re- 
 mained several years. He was disappointed in 
 not finding game as he expected, and was 
 more of a farmer here than ever before ; he 
 turned his attention earnestly to agriculture, 
 and was very successful in raising good crops. 
 Still he was dissatisfied ; he longed for the 
 wilderness. Hunting and trapping were the 
 constant thoughts of his life. 
 
 While living here, he met accidentally with 
 a party of men who had been out upon the 
 upper waters of the Missouri. These men 
 talked of the beauty of that region : they had 
 stories to tell of grisly bears, buffaloes, deer, 
 beavers, and otters — in fact, the region was, in 
 their eyes, " the paradise for a hunter." Fired 
 
174 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 by these stories, Boone resolved to go there. 
 Accordmgly, he gathered together all that 
 he possessed, and with his wife and family 
 started for Missouri, driving his herds and 
 cattle before him. It was strange to see an 
 old man thus vigorous in seeking a new home. 
 He was an object of surprise to every one. 
 When he reached Cincinnati, on his route, some 
 one, marking his nge, and surprised at his ad- 
 venture, asked him how, at his time of life, 
 he could leave all the comforts of home, for 
 the wilderness. His answer shows his whole 
 character : " Too much crowded, too much 
 crowded," said he ; "I want more elbow-room." 
 Traveling on, he at length reached Missouri, 
 and proceeding about fifty miles above St. 
 Louis, settled in what is now St. Charles 
 county. 
 
 Here every thing pleased Boone. The coun- 
 try, as you know, was then in the posses- 
 sion of the French and Spanish, and the old 
 laws by which their territories were governed, 
 were still in force there. They had no con- 
 stitution, no king, no legislature, no judges, 
 lawyers, or i^herifls. An officer called the com- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 175 
 
 mander, and the priests, exercised all the au- 
 thority that was needed. The horses, cattle, 
 flocks, and herds of these people all grazed 
 together upon the same commons ; in fact, 
 they were living here almost in primitive sim- 
 plicity. Boone's character for honesty and 
 courage soon became known among them, and 
 he was appointed by the Spanish command- 
 ant the commandant over the district of St. 
 Charles. 
 
 Boone now had the satisfaction of settling 
 all his children comfortably around him, and 
 in the unbroken wilderness his hunting and 
 trapping was unmolested. In his office of 
 commandant he gave great satisfaction to 
 every one, and continued to occupy it until 
 Missouri was purchased by our government 
 from the French. When that purchase was 
 made, American enterprise soon came upon 
 him again — he was once more crowded by his 
 fellow-men. His old office of commandant was 
 soon merged in the new order of things — his 
 hunting-grounds were invaded by others. 
 Nothing remained for him now, but to submit 
 to his fate ; he was too old to move again, 
 
•^> 
 
 KILLING THE BEAE.-l' 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 177 
 
 nor indeed did he know wliere to go. He con- 
 tinued his old habits, as well he might. He 
 would start out with his rifle, now marked 
 with a paper site to guide his dim eye, and 
 be absent from his home for weeks. Nearly 
 eighty years had passed over him, yet he 
 would lie in wait near the salt-licks, and bring 
 down his buffalo or deer, and as bravely and 
 cheerily as in his younger days, would he 
 cut down bee4rees. As the light-hearted 
 Frenchmen swept up the river in their fleets 
 of periogues on their hunting excursions, Boone 
 would cheer them as they passed, and eigh 
 for his younger days that he might join their 
 parties. He was a complete Nimrod, now 
 almost worn out. 
 
 It was while he was living here, I think, that 
 he was met by that very interesting man, Mr. 
 Audubon, the, natural historian of our continent. 
 He was struck with the man, and he has given 
 the story of his interview with Boone. It is 
 so illustrative of the character of the hunter, 
 that I give it to you in Mr. Audubon's words. 
 
 " Daniel Boone, or as he was usually called 
 in the western country, Colonel Boone, hap^ 
 "'2 
 
178 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 pened to spend a night under the same roof 
 with me, more than twenty years ngo. We 
 had returned from a shooting excursion, in the 
 course of which his extraordinary skill in the 
 management of a rifle had been fully dis- 
 played. On retiring to the room appropriated 
 to that remarkable individual and myself for 
 the night, I felt anxious to know more of his 
 exploits and adventures than I did, and ac- 
 cordingly took the liberty of proposing numer- 
 ous questions to him. The stature and gen- 
 eral appearance of this wanderer of the western 
 forests, approached the gigantic. His chest 
 was broad and prominent ; his muscular powers 
 displayed themselves in every limb ; his coun- 
 tenance gave indication of his great courage, 
 enterprise and perseverance ; and when he 
 spoke, the very motion of his lips brought 
 the impression, that whatever he uttered could 
 not be otherwise than strictly true. I un- 
 dressed, while he merely took off his hunting- 
 shirt, and arranged a few folds of blankets on 
 the floor ; choosing rather to lie there, as he 
 observed, than on the softest bed. When we 
 had both disposed of ourselves, each after his 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 179 
 
 own fashion, he related to me the following 
 account of his powers of memory, which I lay 
 before you, kind reader, in his own words, 
 hoping that the simplicity of his style may 
 prove interesting to you. 
 
 " * I was once, said he, on a hunting ex- 
 pedition on the banks of the Green river, 
 when the lower parts of this (Kentucky) were 
 still in the hands of nature, and none but 
 the sons of the soil were looked upon as its 
 lawful proprietors. We Virginians had for some 
 time been waging a war of intrusion among 
 them, and I, among the rest, rambled through 
 the woods, in pursuit of their race, as I now 
 would follow the tracks of any ravenous ani- 
 mal. The Indians outwitted me one dark 
 night, and I was as unexpectedly as suddenly 
 made a prisoner by them. The trick had been 
 managed with great skill ; for no sooner had 
 I extinguished the fire of my camp, and laid 
 me down to rest, in full security, as I thought, 
 than I felt myself seized by an indistinguish- 
 able number of hands, and was immediately 
 pinioned, as if about to be led to the scaffold 
 for execution. To have attempted to be re- 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 181 
 
 fractory, would have proved useless and dan- 
 gerous to my life ; and I suffered myself 
 to be removed from my camp to theirs, a few 
 miles distant, without uttering even a word of 
 complaint. You are aware, I dare say, that 
 to act in this manner, was the best policy, as 
 you understand that by so doing, I proved to 
 the Indians at once, that I was born and 
 bred as fearless of death us any of themselves. 
 *When we reached the camp, great rejoic- 
 ings were exhibited. Two squaws, and a few 
 pappooses, appeared particularly delighted at 
 the sight of me, and I was assured, by very 
 unequivocal gestures and words, that, on the 
 morrow, the mortal enemy of the red-skins 
 would cease to live. I never opened my 
 lips, but was busy contriving some scheme 
 which might enable me to give the rascals 
 the slip before dawn. The women immedi- 
 ately fell a searching about my hunting-shirt for 
 whatever they might think valuable, and fortu- 
 nately for me, soon found my flask, filled with 
 " Monongahela " (that is, reader strong, whis- 
 ky). A terrific grin was exhibited on their 
 murderous countenances, while my heart throb- 
 
]82 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 bed with joy at the anticipation of their in- 
 toxication. The crew immedi^)tely began to 
 beat their bellies and sing, as they passed 
 their bottles from mouth to mouth. How 
 often did I wish the flask ten times its size, 
 and filled with aquafortis ! I observed that 
 the squaws drank more freely than the war- 
 riors, and again my spirits were about to be 
 depressed, when the report of a gun was 
 heard at a distance. The Indians all jumped 
 on their feet. The singing and drinking were 
 both brought to a stand ; and I saw with 
 inexpressible joy, the men walk off to some 
 distance, and talk to the squaws. I knew that 
 they were consulting about me, and 1 foresaw 
 that in a few moments the warriors would go 
 to discover the cause of the gun having been 
 fired so near their camp. I expected the 
 squaws would be left to guard me. Well, sir, 
 it was just so. They returned ; the men 
 took up their guns and walked away. The 
 squaws sat down again, and in less than five 
 minutes they had my bottle up to their dirty 
 mouths, gurgling down their throats the remains 
 of the whisky. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 183 
 
 'With what pleasure did I see them be- 
 coming more and more drunk, until the liquor 
 took such hold of them that it was quite im- 
 possible for these women to be of any service. 
 They tumbled down, rolled about, and began 
 to snore ; when I having no other chance of 
 freeing myself from the cords that fastened 
 me, rolled over and over toward the fire, and 
 after a short time burned them asunder. 1 
 rose on my feet; stretched my stiffened sinews; 
 snatched up my rifle, and, for once in my life, 
 spared that of Indians. I now recollect how 
 desirous I once or twice felt to lay open the 
 skulls of the wretches with my tomahawk; 
 but when I again thought upon killing beings 
 unprepared and unable to defend themselves, 
 it looked like murder without need, and 1 
 gave up the idea. 
 
 ' But, sir, I felt determined to mark the spot, 
 and walking to a thrifty ash sapling, I cut out 
 of it three large chips, and ran off. I soon 
 reached the river ; soon crossed it, and threw 
 myself into the canebrakes, imitating the tracks 
 of an Indian with my feet, so that no chance 
 might be left for those from whom I had 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 
 
 185 
 
 escaped to overtake me. It is now nearly 
 twenty years since this happened, and more 
 than five since I left the whites' settlements, 
 which I might probably never have visited 
 again, had I not been called on as a witness 
 in a lawsuit that was pending in Kentucky, 
 and which, I really believe, would never have 
 been settled, had I not come forward, and estab- 
 lished the beginning of a certain boundary line. 
 This is the story, sir. 
 
 6 Mr. moved from Old Virginia into 
 
 Kentucky, and having a large tract granted 
 to him in the new state, laid claim to a certain 
 parcel of land adjoining Green river, and as 
 chance would have it, he took for one of his 
 corners the very ash tree on which I had made 
 my mark, and finished his survey of some 
 thousands of acres, beginning, as it is ex- 
 pressed in the deed, «at an ash marked by 
 three distinct notches of the tomahawk of a 
 white man." 
 
 «The tree had grown much, and the bark 
 had covered the marks; but, some how or 
 
 other, Mr. heard from some one all that 
 
 I have already said to you, and thinking that 
 
186 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 I might remember the spot alluded to in 
 the deed, but which was no longer discover- 
 able, wrote for me to come and try at least 
 to find the place on the tree. His letter men- 
 tioned, that all my expenses should be paid; 
 and not caring much about once more going 
 
 back to Kentucky, I started and met Mr. . 
 
 After some conversation, the afiair with the 
 Indians came to my recollection. I considered 
 for awhile, and began to think that after all, 
 I could find the very spot, as ^vtell as the tree, 
 
 if it was yet standing. 'Mr. and I 
 
 mounted our horses, and off we went to the 
 Green river bottoms. After some difficulties, 
 for you mxust be aware, sir, that great changes 
 had taken place in these woods, I found at last 
 the spot where I had crossed the river, and 
 waiting for the moon to rise, made for the 
 course in which I thought the ash tree grew. 
 On approaching the place, I felt as if the In- 
 dians were there still, and as if I was still a 
 
 prisoner among them. Mr. and I camped 
 
 near what I conceived the spot, and waited till 
 the return of day. 
 
 ' At the rising of the sun I was on foot ; 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 187 
 
 and after a good deal of musing, thought that 
 an ash tree then in sight must be the very 
 one on which I had made my mark. I felt as 
 if there could be no doubt of it, and men- 
 tioned my thought to Mr . " Well, Col- 
 onel Boone," said he, " if you think so, I hope 
 it may prove true, but we must have some 
 witnesses; do you stay hereabout, and I will 
 go and bring some of the settlers whom I 
 
 know." I agreed. Mr trotted off, and 
 
 I to pass the time, rambled about to see if a 
 deer was still living in the land. But ah ! sir, 
 what a wonderful difference thirty years make 
 in the country ! Why, at the time when I was 
 caught by the Indians, you would not have 
 walked out in any direction for more than 
 a mile without shooting a buck or a bear. 
 There were ten thousands of budaloes on the 
 hills in Kentucky : the land looked as if it 
 would never become poor ; and to hunt in those 
 days was a pleasure indeed. But when I was 
 left to myself on the banks of the Green 
 river, I dare say, for the last time in my life, 
 a few " signs " only of deer were to be seen, 
 and as to a deer itself, I saw none. 
 
188 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 t Mr. returned, accompanied by three 
 
 gentlemen. They looked upon me as if I had 
 been Washington himself, and walked to the 
 ash tree which I now called my own, as if in 
 quest of a long lost treasure. I took an 
 ax from one of them und cut a few chips 
 off the bark. Still no signs were to be seen. 
 So I cut again, until I thought it time to be 
 cautious, and I scraped and worked away with 
 my butcher-knife, until I did come to where 
 my tomahawk had left an impression in the 
 wood. We now went regularly to work, and 
 scraped at the tree with care, until three hacks, 
 as plain as any three notches ever were, could 
 
 be seen. Mr. and the other gentlemen 
 
 were astonished, and, I must allow, I was as 
 much surprised as pleased, myself. I made affi- 
 davit of this remarkable occurrence in the pres- 
 ence of these gentlemen. Mr. gained his 
 
 cause. I left Green river, forever, and came to 
 where we now are ; and, sir, I wish you a good 
 night.' " 
 
 Here, too, it was that he resided, when Mr. 
 Aster attempted to carry out his magnificent 
 design, of settling Astoria on the western coast 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 191 
 
 of our continent, and belting the earth with 
 his commerce. When you are older, you can 
 read the beautiful history of that attempt, 
 written by our distinguished countryman, Mr. 
 Irving. As the party, bound for the far west, 
 moved up the Missouri, Boone stood upon 
 the banks of the stream, looking anxiously 
 after them. It was just the adventure to 
 please him. There the old man stood, lean- 
 ing upon his rifle, his dim eye lighted up as 
 he gazed upon them, and his heart heavy with 
 sorrow, because he was too old to press with 
 them, beyond the mountains. 
 
 Other sorrows than those of age, now crept 
 upon him. His wife, who had been to him 
 all that was good, was now taken from him, 
 and the old man was left widowed. With a 
 sad heart he now went to the home of his 
 son. Major Nathan Boone. 
 
 The last war with England now broke out, 
 too, and penetrated even the wilds of Missouri. 
 It was the worst of all warfare — the savages 
 were let loose upon them. Boone was too old 
 to act the part of a soldier, but he sent off 
 many substitutes in his sons. 
 
192 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 When peace returned, the spirit of the old 
 man rallied; his ruling passion was still with 
 him. The woods were again his home, his 
 rifle his companion; and thus he lived on, 
 through a vigorous old age, with a passion as 
 strong as ever, a hunter almost to the very- 
 day of his death. For when, in 1818, death 
 came upon him, he had but little notice of 
 its approach. With no disease but old age, 
 which had seemed comparatively vigorous 
 almost to the day of his departure, he died 
 in his eighty-fourth year. His mind was un- 
 clouded and he passed from this world calmly 
 and quietly. 
 
 I have but one thing more to say. You 
 remember Daniel Boone's schoolboy days, of 
 which I have spoken. He left school a per- 
 fectly ignorant lad. Some say that he after- 
 ward learned to write, and produce as an evi- 
 dence, a little narrative of his wanderings in 
 Kentucky, supposed to be written by him- 
 self. I believe, however, that to the day 
 of his death, he could not write his name 
 The narrative spoken of, was, I think, dictated 
 in some degree by him, and written by 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 193 
 
 another. At all events, the story is inter- 
 esting and carious, and, as such, I have 
 placed it for your benefit, as an appendix 
 to this volunie. 
 
 13 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 THE LIFE AND A D V E N" T U R E S OF 
 COLONEL DANIEL BOONE 
 
 CONTAIN ING 
 
 A NAEKATIVE OF THE WAES OF KENTUCKY, 
 AS GIVEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 Curiosity is natural to the soul of man and 
 interesting objects have a powerful influence 
 on our affections. Let these influencing pow- 
 ers actuate, by the permission or disposal 
 of Providence, from selfish or social views, yet 
 in time the mysterious will of Heaven is un- 
 folded, and we behold our conduct, from what- 
 soever motives excited, operating to answer 
 the important designs of Heaven. Thus we 
 behold Kentucky, lately a howling wilderness, 
 the habitation of savages and wild beasts, 
 becoming a fruitful field; this region, so 
 favorably distinguished by nature, now become 
 
 195 
 
196 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the habitation of civilization, at a period un- 
 paralleled in history, in the midst of a raging 
 war, and under all the disadvantages of emi- 
 gration, to a country so remote from the 
 inhabited parts of the continent. Here, where 
 the hand of violence shed the blood of the 
 innocent; where the horrid yells of savages 
 and the groans of the distressed sounded in 
 our ears, we now hear the praises and adora- 
 tions of our Creator ; where wretched wig- 
 wams stood, the miserable abodes of savages, 
 we behold the foundations of cities laid, that, 
 in all probability, will equal the glory of the 
 greatest upon earth. And we view Kentucky, 
 situated on the fertile banks of the great Ohio, 
 rising from obscurity to shine with splendor, 
 equal to any other of the stars of the Amer- 
 ican hemisphere. 
 
 The settling of this region will deserve a 
 place in history. Most of the memorable 
 events I have myself been exercised in ; and, 
 for the satisfaction of the public will briefly 
 relate the circumstances of my adventures, and 
 scenes of life, from my first movement to this 
 country, until this day. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 197 
 
 It was on the first of May, in the year 1769, 
 that I resigned my domestic happiness for a 
 time, and left my family and peaceable habita- 
 tion on the Yadkin river, in North Carolina, 
 to wander through the wilderness of America, 
 in quest of the country of Kentucky, in com- 
 pany with John Finley, John Stewart, Joseph 
 Holden, James Monay, and William Cool. 
 We proceeded successfully, and after a long 
 and fatiguing journey through a mountainous 
 wilderness, in a westward direction, on the 7th 
 day of June following we found ourselves on 
 Red river, where John Finley had formerly 
 been trading with the Indians, and, from the 
 top of an eminence, saw with pleasure the 
 beautiful level of Kentucky. Here let me 
 observe that for some time we had experienced 
 the most uncomfortable weather, as a preliba- 
 tion of our future sufferings. At this place 
 we encamped, and made a shelter to defend us 
 from the inclement season, and began to hunt 
 and reconnoiter the country. We found every 
 where abundance of wild beasts of all sorts, 
 through this vast forest. The buffalo were 
 more frequent than I have seen cattle in 
 
198 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the settlem-ents, browsing od the leaves of the 
 cane, or cropping the herbage on those exten- 
 sive plains, fearless, because ignorant of the 
 violence of man. Sometimes we saw hundreds 
 in a drove, and the numbers about the salt 
 springs were amazing. In this forest, the 
 habitation of beasts of every kind natural to 
 America, we practiced hunting with great suc- 
 cess until the 2 2d day of December following. 
 This day John Stewart and I had a pleas- 
 ing ramble, but fortune changed the scene in 
 the close of it. We had passed through a 
 great forest, on which stood myriads of trees, 
 some gay with blossoms, and others rich with 
 fruits. Nature was here a series of wonders, 
 and a fund of delight. Here she displayed her 
 ingenuity and industry in a variety of flowers 
 and fruits, beautifully colored, elegantly shaped, 
 and charmingly flavored ; and we were di- 
 verted with innumerable animals presenting 
 themselves perpetually to our view. In the 
 decline of the day, near Kentucky river, as 
 we ascended the brow of a small hill, a number 
 of Indians rushed out of a thick canebrake 
 upon us, and made us prisoners. The time 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 199 
 
 of our sorrow was now arrived, and the scene 
 fully opened. The Indians plundered us of 
 what we had, and kept us in confinement seven 
 days, treating us with common savage usage. 
 During this time we discovered no uneasiness 
 or desire to escape, which made them less 
 suspicious of us ; but in the dead of night, 
 as we lay in a thick canebrake by a large 
 fire, when sleep had locked up their senses, 
 my situation not disposing me to rest, I 
 touched my companion and gently awoke him. 
 We improved this favorable opportunity, and 
 departed, leaving them to take their rest, 
 and speedily directed our course toward our 
 old camp, but found it plundered, and the 
 company dispersed and gone home. About 
 this time my brother. Squire Boone, with 
 another adventurer, who came to explore the 
 country shortly after us, was wandering 
 through the forest, determined to find me 
 if possible, and accidentally found our camp. 
 Notwithstanding the unfortunate circumstances 
 of our company, and our dangerous situation, 
 as surrounded with hostile savages, our meeting 
 so fortunately in the wilderness made us 
 
200 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP 
 
 reciprocally sensible of the utmost satisfaction. 
 So much does friendship triumph over misfor- 
 tune, that sorrows and sufferings vanish at 
 the meeting not only of real friends, but 
 of the most distant acquaintances, and substi- 
 tute happiness in their room. 
 
 Soon after this, my companion in captivity, 
 John Stewart, was killed by the savages, and 
 the man that came with my brother returned 
 home by himself. We were then in a dan- 
 gerous, helpless situation, exposed daily to 
 perils and death among savages and wild 
 beasts — not a white man in the country but 
 ourselves. 
 
 Thus situated, many hundred miles from our 
 families, in the howhng wilderness, I believe 
 few would have equally enjoyed the happi- 
 ness we experienced. I often observed to 
 my brother, "You see how little nature re- 
 quires, to be satisfied. FeUcity, the companion 
 of content, is rather found in our own breasts, 
 than in the enjoyment of external things; 
 and I firmly believe it requires but little 
 philosophy to make a man happy in what- 
 soever state he is. This consists in a full 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 201 
 
 resignation to the will of Providence ; and a 
 resigned soul finds pleasure in a path strewed 
 with briers and thorns." ^ 
 
 We continued not in a state of indolence, 
 but hunted every day, and prepared a little 
 cottage to defend us from the winter storms 
 We remained there undisturbed during th( 
 winter; and on the first day of May, 1770 
 my brother returned home to the settlement 
 by himself, for a new recruit of horses and 
 ammunition, leaving me by myself, without 
 bread, salt, or sugar, without company of my 
 fellow-creatures, or even a horse or dog. I 
 confess I never before was under greater ne- 
 cessity of exercising philosophy and fortitude. 
 A few days I passed uncomfortably. The idea 
 of a beloved wife and family, and their anx- 
 iety upon the account of my absence and 
 exposed situation, made sensible impressions 
 on my heart. A thousand dreadful apprehen- 
 sions presented themselves to my view, and 
 had undoubtedly disposed me to melancholy, 
 if further indulged. 
 
 One day I undertook a tour through the 
 country, and the diversities and beauties of 
 
BOONE TAKEN PK1S0NEK.-2 02. 
 
COLONEX DANIEL BOONE. 203 
 
 nature I met with in this charming season, 
 expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought. 
 Just at the close of day the gentle gules 
 retired, and left the place to the disposal of a 
 profound calm. Not a breeze shook the most 
 tremulous leaf I had gained the summit of a 
 commanding ridge, and, looking round with 
 astonishing delight, beheld the ample plains, 
 the beauteous tracts below. On the other 
 hand, I surveyed the famous river Ohio that 
 rolled in silent dignity, marking the western 
 boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable 
 grandeur. At a vast distance I beheld the 
 mountains lift their venerable brows, and pen- 
 etrate the clouds. All things were still. I 
 kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, 
 and feasted on the loin of a buck, which a 
 few hours before I had killed. The sullen 
 shades of night, soon overspread the whole 
 hemisphere, and the earth seemed to gisp after 
 the hovering moisture. My roving excursion 
 this day had fatigued my body, and diverted 
 my imagination. I laid me down to sleep, and 
 I awoke not until the sun had chased away 
 the night. I continued this tour, and in a 
 
204 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 few days explored a considerable part of the 
 country, each day equally pleased as the first 
 I returned again to my old camp which was 
 not disturbed in my absence. I did not con- 
 fine my lodging to it, but often reposed in 
 thick canebrakes, to avoid the savages, who, 
 I beheve, often visited my camp, but fortu- 
 nately for me, in my absence. In this situa- 
 tion I was constantly exposed to danger and 
 death. How unhappy such a situation for a 
 man tormented with fear, which is vain if no 
 danger comes, and if it does, only augments 
 the pain ! It was my happiness to be desti- 
 tute of this afflicting passion, with which I 
 had the greatest reason to be affected. The 
 prowHng wolves diverted my nocturnal hours 
 with perpetual bowlings ; and the various 
 species of animals in the vast forest, in the 
 daytime, were continually in my view. 
 
 Thus I was surrounded by plenty in the 
 midst of want. I was happy in the midst of 
 dangers and inconveniences. In such a diver- 
 sity it was impossible I should be disposed to 
 melancholy. No populous ci<-y, with all the 
 Varieties of commerce and stately structures, 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 205 
 
 could afford so much pleasure to my mind 
 as the beauties of nature I found here. 
 
 Thus, through an uninterrupted scene of 
 sylvan pleasures, I spent the time until the 
 27 th day of July following, when my brother, 
 to my great felicity, met me, according to 
 appointment, at our old camp. Shortly after, 
 we left this place, not thinking it safe to stay 
 there longer, and proceeded to Cumberland 
 river, reconnoitering that part of the country 
 until March, 1771, and giving names to the 
 different waters. 
 
 Soon after, I returned home to my family, 
 with a determination to bring them as soon 
 as possible to live in Kentucky, which I es- 
 teemed a second paradise, at the risk of my 
 life and fortune. 
 
 I returned safe to my old habitation, and 
 found my family in happy circumstances. I 
 sold my farm on the Yadkin, and what goods 
 we could not carry with us ; and on the 25th 
 day of September, 1773, bade a farewell to 
 our friends, and proceeded on our journey to 
 Kentucky, in company with five families more, 
 and forty men that joined us in Powel's Val- 
 
206 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ley, which is one hundred and fifty miles from 
 the now settled parts of Kentucky. This 
 promising beginning was soon overcast with a 
 cloud of adversity; for, upon the 10th day 
 of October, the rear of our company was at- 
 tacked by a number of Indians, who killed 
 six, and wounded one man. Of these, my 
 eldest son was one that fell in the action. 
 Though we defended ourselves, and repulsed 
 the enemy, yet this unhappy affair scattered 
 our cattle, brought us into extreme difficulty, 
 and so discouraged the whole company, that 
 we retreated forty miles, to the settlement on 
 Clinch river. We had passed over two moun- 
 tains, viz., Powel's and Walden's, and were 
 approaching Cumberland mountain when this 
 adverse fortune overtook us. These moun- 
 tains are in the wilderness, as we pass from 
 the old settlements in Virginia to Kentucky, 
 are ranged in a southwest and northeast direc- 
 tion, are of a great length and breadth, and 
 not far distant from each other. Over these, 
 nature hath formed passes that are less diffi- 
 cult than might be expected, from a view of 
 such huge piles. The aspect of these clifis is 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 207 
 
 SO wild and horrid, that it is impossible to 
 behold them without terror. The spectator is 
 apt to imagine that nature had formerly suf- 
 fered some violent convulsion, and that these 
 are the dismembered remains of the dreadful 
 shock : the ruins, not of Persepolis or Pal- 
 myra, but of the world ! 
 
 I remained with my family on Clinch until 
 the 6th of June, 1774, when I and one 
 Michael Stoner were solicited by Governor 
 Dunmore of Virginia to go to the fails of the 
 Ohio, to conduct into the settlement a number 
 of surveyors that had been sent thither by 
 him some months before ; that country having 
 about this time drawn the attention of many 
 adventurers. We immediately complied with 
 the Governor's request, and conducted in the 
 suiTeyors — completing a tour of eight hundred 
 miles, through 'many difficulties, in sixty-two 
 days. 
 
 Soon after I returned home, I was ordered 
 to take the command of three garrisons during 
 the campaign which Governor Dunmore carried 
 on against the Shawanese Indians ; after the 
 conclusion of which, the militia was discharged 
 
208 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 from each garrison, and I, being relieved from 
 my post, was solicited by a number of North 
 Carolina gentlemen, that were about purchasing 
 the lands lying on the south side of Kentucky 
 river, from the Cherokee Indians, to attend 
 their treaty at Wataga in March, 1775, to 
 negotiate with them, and mention the boun- 
 daries of the purchase. This I accepted ; and, 
 at the request of the same gentlemen, under- 
 took to mark out a road in the best passage 
 from the settlement through the wilderness to 
 Kentucky, with such assistance as I thought 
 necessary to employ for such an important 
 undertaking. 
 
 I soon began this work, having collected a 
 number of enterprising men, well armed. We 
 proceeded with all possible expedition, until we 
 came within fifteen miles of where Boones- 
 borough now stands, and where we were fired 
 upon by a party of Indians that killed two, 
 and wounded two of our number ; yet, al- 
 though surprised and taken at a disadvantage, 
 we stood our ground. This was on the 20th 
 of March, 1775. Three days after, we were 
 fired upon again, and had two men killed, and 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 209 
 
 three wounded. Afterward we proceeded on to 
 Kentucky river without opposition ; and on 
 the 1st of April began to erect the fort of 
 Boonesborough at a salt-lick, about sixty yards 
 from the river, on the south side. On the 4th 
 day, the Indians killed one of our men. We 
 were busily employed in building this fort un- 
 til the 14th day of June following, without 
 any further opposition from the Indians ; and 
 having finished the works, I returned to my 
 family, on Clinch. 
 
 In a short time I proceeded to remove my 
 family from Clinch to this garrison, where we 
 arrived safe, without any other difficulties than 
 such as are common to this passage ; my wife 
 and daughter being the first white women that 
 ever stood on the banks of Kentucky river. 
 
 On the 24th day of December following, we 
 had one man killed, and one wounded, by 
 the Indians, who seemed determined to per- 
 secute us for erecting this fortification. 
 
 On the 14th day of July, 1776, two of 
 Colonel Calaway's daughters, and one of mine, 
 were 'taken prisoners near the fort. I im- 
 mediately pursued the Indians with only eight 
 14 
 
210 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 men, and on the 16th overtook them, killed 
 two of the party, and recovered the girls. 
 The same day on which this attempt was made, 
 the Indians divided themselves into different 
 parties, and attacked several forts, which were 
 shortly before this time erected, doing a great 
 deal of mischief This was extremely distress- 
 ing to the new settlers. The innocent hus- 
 bandman was shot down, while busy in culti- 
 vating the soil for his family's supply. Most 
 of the cattle around the stations were destroyed. 
 They continued their hostilities in this manner 
 until the 15th of April, 1777, when they at- 
 tacked Boonesborough with a party of above 
 one hundred in number, killed one man, and 
 wounded four. Their loss in this attack was 
 not certainly known to us. 
 
 On the 4th day of July following, a party 
 of about two hundred Indians attacked 
 Boonesborough, killed one man, and wounded 
 two. They besieged us forty-eight hours, 
 during which time seven of them were killed, 
 and, at last, finding themselves not likely to 
 prevail, they raised the siege, and departed. 
 
 The Indians had disposed their warriors in 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 211 
 
 different parties at this time, and attacked 
 the different garrisons, to prevent their assistr 
 ing each other, and did much injury to the 
 distressed inhabitants. 
 
 On the 19th day of this month, Colonel 
 Logan's fort was besieged by a party of about 
 two hundred Indians. During this dreadful 
 siege they did a great deal of mischief, dis- 
 tressed the garrison, in which were only fifteen 
 men, killed two, and wounded one. The ene- 
 my's loss was uncertain, from the common 
 practice which the Indians have of carrying 
 off their dead in time of battle. Colonel Har- 
 rod's fort was then defended by only sixty- 
 five men, and Boonesborough, by twenty-two, 
 there being no more forts or white men in the 
 country, except at the Falls, a considerable 
 distance from these : and all, taken collectively, 
 were but a handful to the numerous warriors 
 that were every where dispersed through the 
 country, intent on doing all the mischief that 
 savage barbarity could invent. Thus we passed 
 through a scene of sufferings that exceeds 
 description. 
 
 On the 25th of this month, a reinforcement 
 
212 LIFE AND ADVENTURES 01 
 
 of forty-five men arrived from North Carolina, 
 and about the 20th of August following, Bow- 
 man arrived with one hundred men from Vir- 
 ginia. Now we began to strengthen; and 
 hence, for the space of six weeks, we had 
 skirmishes with Indians, in one quarter or 
 other, almost every day. 
 
 The savages ndw learned the superiority of 
 the Long Knife, as they call the Virginians, 
 by experience ; being out-generaled in almost 
 every battle. Our affairs began to wear a new 
 aspect, and the enemy, not daring to venture 
 on open war, practiced secret mischief at times. 
 
 On the 1st day of January, 1778, I went 
 with a party of thirty men to the Blue 
 Licks, on Licking river, to make salt for the 
 different garrisons in the country. On the 
 7th day of February, as I was hunting to 
 procure meat for the company, I met a party 
 of one hundred and two Indians, and two 
 Frenchmen, on their march against Boones- 
 borough, that place being particularly the 
 object of the enemy. They pursued, and took 
 me ; and brought me on the 8th day to the 
 Licks, where twenty-seven of my party were, 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 213 
 
 three of them having previously returned home 
 with the salt. I, knowing it was impossible for 
 them to escape, capitulated with the enemy, 
 and, at a distance, in their view, gave notice 
 to my men of their situation, with orders not 
 to resist, but surrender themselves captives. 
 
 The generous usage the Indians had prom- 
 ised before in my capitulation, was afterward 
 fully complied with, and we proceeded with 
 them as prisoners to Old Chillicothe, the prin- 
 cipal Indian town on Little Miami, where we 
 arrived, after an uncomfortable journey in very 
 severe weather, on the 18th day of February, 
 and received as good treatment as prisoners 
 could expect from savages. On the 10th day 
 of March following, I and ten of my men were 
 conducted by forty Indians to Detroit, where 
 we arrived the 30 th day, and were treated by 
 Governor Hamilton, the British commander at 
 that post, with great humanity. 
 
 During our travels, the Indians entertained 
 me well, and their affection for me was so 
 great, that they utterly refused to leave me 
 there with the others, although the Governor 
 offered them one hundred pounds sterling for 
 
214 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 me, on purpose to give me a parole to go home. 
 Several English gentlemen there, being sensi- 
 ble of my adverse fortune, and touched with 
 human sympathy, generously offered a friendly 
 supply for my wants, which I refused, with many 
 thanks for their kindness — adding, that I 
 never expected it would be in my power to 
 recompense such unmerited generosity. They 
 left my men in captivity with the British at 
 Detroit, and on the 10th day of April brought 
 me toward Old Chillicothe, where we arrived 
 on the 25th day of the same month. This 
 was a long and fatiguing march, through an 
 exceeding fertile country, remarkable for fine 
 springs and streams of water. At Chillicothe 
 I spent my time as comfortably as I could ex- 
 pect ; was adopted, according to their custom, 
 into a family, where I became a son, and had 
 a great share in the affection of my new pa- 
 rents, brothers, sisters, and friends. I was 
 exceedingly famihar and friendly with them, 
 always appearing as cheerful and satisfied as 
 possible, and they put great confidence in me. 
 I often went a hunting with them, and fre- 
 quently gained their applause for my activity 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 215 
 
 at our shooting-matches. I was careful not 
 to exceed many of them in shooting; for no 
 people are more envious than they in this 
 sport. I could observe, in their countenances 
 and gestures, the greatest expressions of joy 
 when they exceeded me ; and, when the reverse 
 happened, of envy. The Shawanese king took 
 great notice of me, and treated me with pro- 
 found respect and entire friendship, often 
 intrusting me to hunt at my liberty. I 
 frequently returned with the spoils of the 
 woods, and as often presented some of what I 
 had taken to him, expressive of duty to my 
 sovereign. My food and lodging were in com- 
 mon with them ; not so good, indeed, as I could 
 desire, but necessity made every thing 
 acceptable. 
 
 I now began to meditate an escape, and care- 
 fully avoided their suspicions, continuing with 
 them at Old ChilHcothe until the 1st day of 
 June following, and then was taken by them 
 to the Salt Springs on Scioto, and kept there 
 making salt ten days. During this time I 
 hunted some for them, and found the land, for 
 a great extent about this river, to exceed the 
 
216 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 soil of Kentucky, if possible, and remarkably 
 well watered. 
 
 When I returned to Chillicothe, alarmed to 
 see four hundred and fifty Indians, of their 
 choicest warriors, painted and armed in a fear- 
 ful manner, ready to march against Boones- 
 borough, I determined to escape the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 On the 16th, before sunrise, I departed in 
 the most secret manner, and arrived at Boones- 
 borough on the 20th, after a journey of one 
 hundred and sixty miles, during which I had 
 but one meal. 
 
 I found our fortress in a bad state of de- 
 fense ; but we proceeded immediately to repair 
 our flanks, strengthen our gates and posterns, 
 and form double bastions, which we completed 
 in ten days. In this time we daily expected 
 the arrival of the Indian army ; and at length, 
 one of my fellow-prisoners, escaping from them, 
 arrived, informing us that the enemy bad, on 
 account of my departure, postponed their ex- 
 pedition three weeks. The Indians had spies 
 out viewing our movements, and were greatly 
 alarmed with our increase in numbers and 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 217 
 
 fortifications. The grand councils of the na- 
 tions were held frequently, and with more de- 
 liberation than usual. They evidently saw 
 the approaching hour when the Long Knife 
 would dispossess them of their desirable habi- 
 tations ; andf^nxiously concerned for futurity, 
 determined utterly to extirpate the whites out 
 of Kentucky. We were not intimidated by 
 their movements, but frequently gave them 
 proofs of our courage.- 
 
 About the first of August, I made an in- 
 cursion into the Indian country with a party 
 of nineteen men, in order to surprise a small 
 town up Scioto, called Paint Creek Town. We 
 advanced within four miles thereof, where we 
 met a party of thirty Indians on their march 
 against Boonesborough, intending to join the 
 others from Chillicothe. A smart fight ensued 
 between us for some time ; at length the sav- 
 ages gave way and fled. We had no loss on 
 our side ; the enemy had one killed, and two 
 wounded. We took from them three horses, 
 aud all their baggage ; and being informed by 
 two of our number that went to their town 
 that the Indians had entirely evacuated it, we 
 
218 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP 
 
 proceeded no further, and returned with all 
 possible expedition to assist our garrison 
 against the other party. We passed by them 
 on the sixth day, and on the seventh we 
 arrived safe at Boonesborough. 
 
 On the 8th, the Indian army Irrived, being 
 four hundred and forty-four in number, com- 
 manded by Captain Duquesne, eleven other 
 Frenchmen, and some of their own chiefs, and 
 march) (1 up within view of our fort, with British 
 and French colors flying ; and having sent a 
 summons to me, in his Britannic Majesty's 
 name, to surrender the fort, I requested two 
 days' consideration, which was granted. 
 
 It was now a critical period with us. We 
 were a small number in the garrison — a power- 
 ful army before our walls, whose appearance 
 proclaimed inevitable death, fearfully painted, 
 and marking their footsteps with desolation. 
 Death was preferable to captivity ; and if taken 
 by storm, we must inevitably be devoted to 
 destruction. In this situation we concluded 
 to maintain our garrison, if possible. We 
 immediately proceeded to collect what we could 
 of our horses and other cattle, and bring them 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 219 
 
 through the posterns into the fort ; and in 
 the evening of the 9th, I returned answer that 
 We were determined to defend our fort while a 
 man was living. " Now," said I to their com- 
 mander, who stood attentively hearing my 
 sentiments, ♦^ we laugh at your formidable 
 preparations ; but thank you for giving us 
 notice and time to provide for our defense. 
 Your efforts will not prevail; for our gates 
 shall forever deny you admittance." Whether 
 this answer affected their courage or not I 
 can not tell ; but, contrary to our expectations, 
 they formed a scheme to deceive us, declaring 
 it was their orders, from Governor Hamilton, 
 to take us captives, and not to destroy us ; 
 but if nine of us would come out, and treat with 
 them, they would immediately withdraw their 
 forces from our walls, and return home peace- 
 ably. This sounded grateful in our ears ; and 
 we agreed to the proposal. 
 
 We held the treaty within sixty yards of 
 the garrison, on purpose to divert them from 
 a breach of honor, as we could not avoid sus- 
 picions of the savages. Li this situation the 
 articles were formally agreed to, and signed ; 
 
220 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and the Indians told us it was customary with 
 them on such occasions for two Indians to 
 shake hands with every white man in the 
 treaty, as an evidence of entire friendship. 
 We agreed to this also, but were soon con- 
 vinced their policy was to take Ife prisoners. 
 They immediately grappled us; but, although 
 surrounded by hundreds of savages, we extri- 
 cated ourselves from them, escaped all safe into 
 the garrison, except one that was wounded, 
 through a heavy fire from their army. They 
 immediately attacked us on every side, and a 
 constant heavy fire ensued between us, day 
 and night, for the space of nine days. 
 
 In this time the enemy began to undermine 
 our fort, which was situated sixty yards from 
 Kentucky river. They began at the water- 
 mark, and proceeded in the bank some dis- 
 tance, which we understood, by their making 
 the water muddy with the clay ; and we im- 
 mediately proceeded to disappoint their design, 
 by cutting a trench across their subterranean 
 passage. The enemy, discovering our counter- 
 mine, by the clay we threw out of the fort, 
 desisted from that stratagem : and experience 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 221 
 
 now fully convincing them that neither their 
 power nor policy could efiect their purpose, on 
 the 20th day of August they raised the siege 
 and departed. 
 
 During this siege, which threatened death 
 in every form, we had two men killed, and 
 four wounded, besides a number of cattle. We 
 killed of the enemy thirty-seven, and wounded 
 a great number. After they were gone, we 
 picked up one hundred and twenty-five pounds 
 weight of bullets, besides what stuck in the 
 logs of our fort, which certainly is a great proof 
 of their industry. Soon after this, I went into 
 the settlement, and nothing worthy of a place 
 in this account passed in my aftairs for some 
 time. 
 
 During my absence from Kentucky, Colonel 
 Bowman carried on an expedition against the 
 Shawanese, at Old Chillicothe, with one hundred 
 and sixty men, in July, 1779. Here they 
 arrived undiscovered, and a battle ensued 
 which lasted until ten o'clock, A. M., when 
 Colonel Bowman finding he could not succeed 
 at this time, retreated about thirty miles. 
 The Indians, in the mean time, collecting all 
 
222 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 their forces, pursued and overtook him, when «i 
 smart fight continued near two hours, not to 
 the advantage of Colonel Bowman's party. 
 
 Colonel Harrod proposed to mount a num- 
 ber of horse, and furiously to rush upon the 
 savages, who at this time fought with remark- 
 able fury. This desperate step had a happy 
 eifect, broke their line of battle, and the sav- 
 ages fled on all sides. In these two battles 
 we had nine killed, and one wounded. The 
 enemy's loss uncertain, only two scalps being 
 taken. 
 
 On the 22d day of June, 1780, a large party 
 of Indians and Canadians, about six hundred 
 in number, commanded by Colonel Bird, at- 
 tacked Riddles and Martin's stations, at the 
 forks of Licking river, with six pieces of 
 artillery. They carried this expedition so 
 secrectly, that the unwary inhabitants did not 
 discover them until they fired upon the forts ; 
 and, not being prepared to oppose them, were 
 obliged to surrender themselves miserable cap- 
 tives to barbarous savages, who immediately 
 after tomahawked one man and two women, 
 and loaded all the others with heavy baggage 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 223 
 
 forcing them along toward their towns, able or 
 unable to march. Such as were weak and faint 
 by the way, they tomahawked. The tender 
 women and helpless children fell victims to 
 their cruelty. This, and the savage treatment 
 they received afterward, is shocking to hu- 
 manity and too barbarous to relate. 
 
 The hostile disposition of the savages and 
 their allies caused General Clarke, the com- 
 mandant at the Falls of the Ohio, immediately 
 to begin an expedition with his own regi- 
 ment, and the armed force of the country, 
 against Pecaway, the principal town of the 
 Shawanese, on a branch of Great^ Miami, which 
 he finished with great success, took seventeen 
 scalps, and burnt the town to ashes, with the 
 loss of seventeen men. 
 
 About this time I returned to Kentucky 
 with my family ; and here, to avoid an inquiry 
 into my conduct, the reader being before in- 
 formed of my bringing my family to Ken- 
 tucky, I am under the necessity of informing 
 him that, during my captivity with the In- 
 dians, my wife, who despaired of ever seeing 
 me again, expecting the Indians had put a 
 
224 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 period to my life, oppressed with the dis- 
 tresses of the country, and bereaved of me, 
 her only happiness — had, before I returned, 
 transported my family and goods, on horses, 
 through the wilderness, amid a multitude of 
 dangers, to her father's house in North 
 Carolina. 
 
 Shortly after the troubles at Boonesborough, 
 I went to them, and lived peaceably there 
 until this time. The history of my going 
 home forms a series of difficulties, an account 
 of which would swell a volume ; and, being 
 foreign to my purpose, I shall purposely 
 omit them. 
 
 I settled my family in Boonesborough once 
 more; and shortly after, on the 6th day of 
 October, 1780, I went in company with my 
 brother to the Blue Licks ; and, on our return 
 home, we were fired upon by a party of In- 
 dians. They shot him, and pursued me, by 
 the scent of their dog, three miles ; but I 
 killed the dog, and escaped. The winter soon 
 came on, and was very severe, which confined 
 the Indians to their wigwams. 
 
 The severity of this winter caused great 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 225 
 
 difficulties in Kentucky. The enemy had 
 destroyed most of the corn the summer be- 
 fore. This necessary article was scarce and 
 dear, and the inhabitants lived chiefly on the 
 flesh of the buffalo. The circumstances of 
 many were very lamentable : however, being 
 a hardy race of people, and accustomed to 
 difficulties and necessities, they were wonder- 
 fully supported through all their sufferings, 
 until the ensuing summer, when we received 
 abundance from the fertile soil. 
 
 Toward spring we were frequently harassed 
 by the Indians; and in May, 1782, a party 
 assaulted Ashton's station, killed one man, 
 and took a negro prisoner. Captain Ashton, 
 with twenty-five men, pursued and overtook 
 the savages, and a smart fight ensued, which 
 lasted two hours; but they being superior 
 in number, obliged Captain Ashton's party to 
 retreat, with the loss of eight killed, and four 
 mortally wounded ; their brave commander him- 
 self being among the dead. 
 
 The Indians continued their hostilities ; and, 
 about the tenth of August following, two boys 
 were taken from Major Hoy's station. This 
 15 
 
226 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 party was pursued by Captain Holder and 
 seventeen men, who were also defeated, with 
 the loss of four men killed, and one wounded. 
 Our affairs became more and more alarming. 
 Several stations which had lately been erected 
 in the country were continually infested with 
 savages, stealing their horses and killing the 
 men at every opportunity. In a field near 
 Lexington, an Indian shot a man, and running 
 to scalp him, was himself shot from the fort, 
 and fell dead upon his enemy. 
 
 Every day we experienced recent mischiefs. 
 The barbarous savage nations of Shawanese, 
 Cherokees, Wyandots, Tawas, Delawares, and 
 several others near Detroit, united in a war 
 against us, and assembled their choicest 
 warriors at Old Chillicothe, to go on the 
 expedition, in order to destroy us, and entirely 
 depopulate the country. Their savage minds 
 were inflamed to mischief by two abandoned 
 men, Captains M'Kee and Girty. These led 
 them to execute every diabolical scheme, and 
 on the 25th day of August, commanded a 
 party of Indians and Canadians, of about five 
 hundred in number, against Bryant's station. 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 227 
 
 five miles from Lexington. Without demand- 
 ing a surrender, they furiously assaulted the 
 garrison, which was happily prepared to oppose 
 them ; and, after they had expended much 
 ammunition in vain, and killed the cattle round 
 the fort, not being likely to make themselves 
 masters of this place, they raised the siege, and 
 departed in the morning of the third day 
 after they came, with the loss of about thirty 
 killed, and the number of wounded uncertain. 
 Of the garrison, four were killed, and three 
 wounded. 
 
 On the 18th day, Colonel Todd, Colonel 
 Trigg, Major Harland, and myself, speedily 
 collected one hundred and seventy-six men, 
 well armed and pursued the savages. They 
 had marched beyond the Blue Licks, to a 
 remarkable bend of the main fork of Licking 
 river, about forty-three miles from Lexington, 
 where we overtook them on the 19th day. 
 The savages observing us, gave way ; and we 
 being ignorant of their numbers, passed the 
 river. When the enemy saw our proceedings, 
 having greatly the advantage of us in situa- 
 tion, they formed the line of battle, from one 
 
228 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 bend of Licking to the other, about a mile 
 from the Blue Licks. An exceeding fierce 
 battle immediately began, for about fifteen 
 minutes, when we, being overpowered by num- 
 bers, were obhged to retreat, with the loss of 
 sixty-seven men, seven of whom were taken 
 prisoners. The brave and much-lamented Colo- 
 nels Todd and Trigg, Major Harlaud, and my 
 second son, were among the dead. We were 
 informed that the Indians, numbering their 
 dead, found they had four killed more than 
 we ; and therefore four of the prisoners they 
 had taken were, by general consent, ordered 
 to be killed in a most barbarous manner by 
 the young warriors, in order to train them 
 up to cruelty ; and then they proceeded to 
 their towns. 
 
 On our retreat we were met by Colonel 
 Logan, hastening to join us, with a number of 
 well-armed men. This powerful assistance we 
 unfortunately wanted in the battle ; for, not- 
 withstanding the enemy's superiority of num- 
 bers, they acknowledged, that if they had re- 
 ceived one more fire from us, they should un- 
 doubtedly have given way. So vaHantly did 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 229 
 
 our small party fight, that, to the memory of 
 those who unfortunately fell in the battle, 
 enough of honor can not be paid. Had Colo- 
 nel Logan and his party been with us, it is 
 highly probable we should have given the sav- 
 ages a total defeat. 
 
 I can not reflect upon this dreadful scene, 
 but sorrow fills my heart. A zeal for the de- 
 fense of their country led these heroes to the 
 scene of action, though with a few men to 
 attack a powerful army of experienced warriors. 
 When we gave way, they pursued us with the 
 utmost eagerness, and in every quarter spread 
 destruction. The river was difficult to cross, 
 and many were killed in the flight — some just 
 entering the river, some in the water, others 
 after crossing, in ascending the cliffs. Some 
 escaped on horseback, a few on foot; and, 
 being dispersed every where in a few hours, 
 brought the melancholy news of this unfortu- 
 nate battle to Lexington. Many widows were 
 now made. The reader may guess what sor- 
 row filled the hearts of the inhabitants, ex- 
 ceeding any thing that I am able to describe. 
 Being reinforced, we returned to bury the 
 
230 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 dead, and found their bodies strewed every 
 where, cut and mangled in a dreadful manner. 
 This mournful scene exhibited a horror al- 
 most unparalleled: some torn and eaten by 
 wild beasts ; those in the river eaten by fishes ; 
 all in such a putrefied condition, that no one 
 could be distinguished from another. 
 
 As soon as General Clarke, then at the 
 Falls of the Ohio — who was ever our ready 
 friend, and merits the love and gratitude of 
 all his countrymen — understood the circum- 
 stances of this unfortunate action, he ordered 
 an expedition, with all possible haste, to pur- 
 sue the savages, which was so expeditiously 
 efiected, that we overtook them within two 
 miles of their towns : and probably might have 
 obtained a great victory, had not two of their 
 number met us about two hundred poles 
 before we came up. These returned quick as 
 lightning to their camp, with the alarming 
 news of a mighty army in view. The sav- 
 ages fled in the utmost disorder, evacuated 
 their towns, and reluctantly left their terri- 
 tory to our mercy. We immediately took 
 possession of Old Chillicothe without opposition, 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONil. 231 
 
 being deserted by its inhabitants. We con- 
 tinued our pursuit through five towns on the 
 Miami rivers, Old Chiliicothe, Pecaway, New 
 Chillicothe, Will's towns, and Chillicothe — burnt 
 them all to ashes, entirely destroyed their corn, 
 and other fruits, and every where spread a 
 scene of desolation in the country. In this 
 expedition we took seven prisoners, and five 
 scalps, with the loss of only four men, two of 
 whom were accidentally killed by our own army. 
 
 This campaign in some measure damped the 
 spirits of the Indians, and made them sensible 
 of our superiority. Their connections were 
 dissolved, their armies scattered, and a future 
 invasion put entirely out of their power ; yet 
 they continued to practice mischief secretly 
 upon the inhabitants, in the exposed parts of 
 the country. 
 
 In October following, a party made an ex- 
 cursion into that district called the Crab 
 Orchard, and one of them, being advanced some 
 distance before the others, boldly entered the 
 house of a poor defenseless family, in which 
 was only a negro man, a woman, and her 
 children, terrified with the apprehensions of 
 
232 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 immediate death. The savage, perceiving 
 their defenseless situation, without offering 
 violence to the family, attempted to capture 
 the negro, who happily proved an over-match 
 for him, threw him on the ground, and, in the 
 struggle, the mother of the children, drew an 
 ax from the corner of the cottage, and cut 
 his head off, while her little daughter shut 
 the door. The savages instantly appeared, 
 and applied their tomahawks to the door. 
 An old rusty gun-barrel, without a lock, lay 
 in a corner, which the mother put through a 
 small crevice, and the savages, perceiving it, 
 fled. In the mean time, the alarm spread 
 through the neighborhood; the armed men 
 collected immediately, and pursued the ravagers 
 into the wilderness. Thus Providence, by 
 the means of this negro, saved the whole of 
 the poor family from destruction. From that 
 time until the happy return of peace between 
 the United States and Great Britain, the In- 
 dians did us no mischief Finding the great 
 king beyond the water disappointed in his 
 expectations, and conscious of the importance 
 of the Long Knife, and their own wretched- 
 
* COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 233 
 
 ness, some of the nations immediately de- 
 clared peace ; to which, at present, [1784], 
 they seem universally disposed, and are send- 
 ing ambassadors to General Clarke, at the 
 falls of the Ohio, with the minutes of their 
 councils. 
 
 To conclude, I can now say that I have 
 verified the saying of an old Indian who signed 
 Colonel Henderson's deed. Taking me by the 
 hand, at the delivery thereof — " Brother," said 
 he, " we have given you a fine land, but T 
 believe you will have much trouble in set- 
 tling it." My footsteps have often been 
 marked with blood, and therefore I can fully 
 subscribe to its original name. Two darling 
 sons and a brother have I lost by savage 
 hands, which have also taken from me forty 
 valuable horses, and abundance of cattle. 
 Many dark and sleepless nights have I been 
 a companion for owls, separated from the cheer- 
 ful society of men, scorched by the summer's 
 sun, and pinched by the winter's cold — an 
 instrument ordained to settle the wilderness. 
 But now the scene is changed : peace crowns 
 the sylvan shade. 
 
234 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 What thanks, what ardent and ceaseless 
 thanks are due to that all-superintending 
 Providence which has turned a cruel war into 
 peace, brought order out of confusion, made 
 the fierce savages placid, and turned away 
 their hostile weapons from our country ' May 
 the same Almighty Goodness banish the ac- 
 cursed monster, war, from all lands, with her 
 hated associates, rapine and insatiable ambi- 
 tion 1 Let peace, descending from her native 
 heaven, bid her olives spring amid the joyful 
 nations; and plenty, in league, with com- 
 merce, scatter blessings from her copious 
 band. 
 
 This account of my adventures will inform 
 the reader of the most remarkable events 
 of this country. I now live in peace and 
 safety, enjoying the sweets of liberty, and 
 the bounties of Providence, with my once 
 fellow sufferers, in this delightful country, 
 which I have seen purchased with a vast 
 expense of blood and treasure : delighting in 
 the prospect of its being, in a short time, one 
 of the most opulent and powerful states on 
 the continent of North America ; which, with 
 
COLONEL DANIEL BOONE. 235 
 
 the love and gratitude of my countrymen, I 
 esteem a sufficient reward for all my toils 
 and dangers. ^^^^^^ ^^^^^^ 
 
 Fayette County^ Kentucky. 
 
AK INDIAN CHIEF WITH A STONE TOMAHAWK.— 236. 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE- 
 
 In the rural cemetery near Frankfort, 
 upon a hill overlooking the river, under the 
 shadow of protecting trees, are two green 
 mounds, unmarked by slab or stone — inform- 
 ing the stranger that the remains of two 
 honored pioneers — Daniel Boone and his wife, 
 rest beneath. The beauty of the locality is 
 unrivaled, and it is not far from the magnificent 
 monument erected by Kentucky to her brave 
 officers fallen on the field of battle ; the splen- 
 did vshaft inscribed with their names, and sur- 
 mounted by a figure of Victory holding crowns 
 in her hands. It is hoped that ere long tho 
 State will do justice to the memory of those 
 whose arduous efforts won a victory not less 
 glorious over the untamed wilderness, and 
 opened the way to others as bold and 
 persevering. 237 
 
238 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 It will be remembered that the father of 
 Daniel Boone had his residence on the borders 
 of the Yadkin in North Carolina, at no great 
 distance from the eastern slope of the AUe- 
 ghanies ; then a frontier country, and the 
 greater part of it unbroken forest. Near the 
 farm here opened, was another owned by Mr. 
 Bryan, comprising about a hundred acres 
 beautifully situated on a gentle swell of ground; 
 the eminence crested with laurels and yellow 
 poplars, which half concealed the farmer's 
 dwelling. A wild mountain stream ran along 
 the base of the hill. This Joseph Bryan was 
 the oldest son of Morgan Bryan, of Virginia, 
 the head of a very respectable family. His 
 daughter, Rebecca, was born near Winchester, 
 in Virginia. 
 
 Flint's " Life of Boone," contains the follow- 
 ing account of his first meeting with his fu- 
 ture wife, referred to as authentic by other 
 biographers : 
 
 "Young Boone was one night engaged in 
 a fire-hunt with a young friend. Their course 
 led them to the deeply timbered bottom which 
 skirted the stream that wound round Bryan's 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 239 
 
 pleasant plantation. That the reader may have 
 an idea what sort of a pursuit it was that 
 young Boone was engaged in, during an event 
 so decisive of his future fortunes, we present 
 :i brief sketch of a night fire-hunt. Two per- 
 sons are indispensable to it. The horseman 
 that precedes, bears on his shoulder what is 
 called a fire-pan, full of blazing pine knots, 
 which casts a bright and flickering glare far 
 through the forest. The second follows at 
 some distance with his rifle prepared for ac- 
 tion. No spectacle is more impressive than 
 this, of pairs of hunters thus kindling the 
 forest into a glare. The deer, reposing quietly 
 in his thicket, is awakened by the approach- 
 ing cavalcade, and instead of flying from the 
 portentous brilliance, remains stupidly gazing 
 upon it, as if charmed to the spot. The 
 animal is betrayed to its doom by the gleam- 
 ing of its fixed and innocent eyes. This 
 cruel mode of securing a fatal shot is called in 
 hunters' phrase — " shining the eyes." 
 
 " The two young men reached a corner of 
 the farmer's field at an early hour in the 
 evening. Young Boone gave the customary 
 
240 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 signal to his mounted companion preceding 
 him, to stop ; an indication that he had 
 "shined the eyes" of a deer. Boone dis- 
 mounted and fastened his horse to a tree. 
 Ascertaining that his rifle was in order, he ad- 
 vanced cautiously behind a covert of bushes, 
 to rest the right distance for a shot. The deer 
 is remarkable for the beauty of its eyes when 
 thus shined. The mild brilliance of the two 
 orbs was distinctly visible. Whether warned 
 by a presentiment, or arrested by a palpi- 
 tation and strange feelings within, at noting 
 a new expression in the blue and dewy lights 
 that gleamed to his heart, we say not. But 
 the unerring rifle fell, and a rustling told him 
 the game had fled. Something whispered him 
 it was not a deer ; and yet the fleet step, 
 as the game bounded away, might easily be 
 mistaken for that of the light-footed animal. 
 A second thought impelled him to pursue the 
 rapidly retreating game ; and he sprang away 
 in the direction of the sound, leaving his com- 
 panion to occupy himself as he might. The 
 fugitive had the advantage of a considerable 
 advance of him and apparently a better knowl- 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 241 
 
 edge of the place. But the hunter was perfect 
 in all his field exercises, and scarcely less fleet- 
 footed than a deer, and he gained rapidly on 
 the object of his pursuit, which advanced a 
 little distance parallel with the field fence, and 
 then, as if endowed with the utmost accom- 
 plishment of gymnastics, cleared the fence at 
 a leap. The hunter, embarrassed with his 
 rifle and accouterments, was driven to the slow 
 and humiliating expedient of climbing it. But 
 an outline of the form of the fugitive, fleet- 
 ing through the shades in the direction of 
 the house, assured him that he had mistaken 
 the species of the game. His heart throb- 
 bed from a hundred sensations, and among 
 them an apprehension of the consequences of 
 what would have resulted from discharging 
 his rifle, when he had first shine d those liquid 
 blue eyes. Seeing that the fleet game made 
 straight in the direction of the house, he said 
 to himself: ^I wiU see the pet deer in its 
 lair,' and he directed his steps to the same 
 place. Half a score of dogs opened their 
 barking upon him as he approached the house, 
 and advertised the master that a stranger was 
 16 
 
242 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 approaching. Having hushed the dogs, and 
 learned the name of his visitant, he introduced 
 him to his family as the son of their neighbor 
 Boone. 
 
 " Scarce had the first words of introduction 
 been uttered, before the opposite door opened, 
 and a boy apparently of seven, and a girl 
 of sixteen, rushed in, panting for breath, and 
 seeming in atiright. 
 
 " Sister went down to the river and a 
 PAINTER chased her, and she is almost scared 
 to death,' exclaimed the boy. 
 
 " The ruddy, flaxen-haired girl stood in 
 full ^iew of her terrible pursuer leaning upon 
 his rifle, and surveying her with the most 
 eager admiration. ' Rebecca this is young 
 Boone, son of our neighbor,' was the laconic 
 reply. Both were young, beautiful, and at the 
 period when the affections exercise their most 
 energetic influence. The circumstances of the 
 introduction were favorable to the result, and 
 the young hunter felt that the eyes had 
 * shined ' his bosom as fatally as his rifle shot 
 had ever the innocent deer of the thickets. 
 She too, when she s;iw the light, open, bold 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 243 
 
 forehead, the clear, keen, yet gentle and affec- 
 tionate eye, the firm front, and the visible im- 
 press of decision and fearlessness of the hunt- 
 er — when she interpreted a look which said 
 as distinctly as looks could say it, ' how 
 terrible it would have been to have fired ! ' 
 can hardly be supposed to have regarded him 
 with indifference. Nor can it be wondered 
 at that she saw in him her beau ideal of ex- 
 cellence and beauty. The inhabitants of 
 cities, who live in mansions, and read novels 
 stored with unreal pictures of life and the 
 heart, are apt to imagine that love, with all 
 its golden illusions, is reserved exclusively for 
 them. It is a most egregious mistake, A 
 model of ideal beauty and perfection is woven 
 in almost every youthful heart, of the brightest 
 and most brilliant threads that compose the 
 web of existence. It may not be said that 
 this forest maiden was deeply and foolishly 
 smitten at first sight. All reasonable time 
 and space were granted to the claims of maid- 
 enly modesty. As hi Boone, he was remark- 
 able for the backwoods attribute of never 
 being beaten out of his track, and he ceased 
 
244 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 not to WOO, until he gained the heart of 
 Rebecca Bryan. In a word, he courted her 
 successfully, and they were married." 
 
 Boone's first step after marriage was to find 
 a suitable place where he might cultivate his 
 flirm, and hunt to the greatest advantage. His 
 wife remained at home, while he went to ex- 
 plore the unsettled regions of North Carolina. 
 When he had selected a locality near the 
 head waters of the Yadkin, Rebecca, with the 
 same resolute spirit of enterprise which after- 
 ward led her to the wilds of Kentucky, bade 
 farewell to her friends, and followed her ad- 
 venturous husband. In a few months her 
 home had assumed a pleasant aspect ; a neat 
 cabin stood on a pleasant eminence near the 
 river, surrounded by an inclosed field; the 
 farm was well stocked, and with the abund- 
 ance of game in the woods, the settlers had 
 no lack of means for comfort and enjoyment. 
 The rude dwelling frequently offered the trav- 
 eler shelter ; and by a cheerful fire and table 
 loaded with the finest game, with the enhanc- 
 ing blessing of a hospitable welcome, was many 
 a tale of adventure narrated, while as yet the 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 245 
 
 surrounding forest was untounched by an ax. 
 For some years the young couple lived in 
 this sylvan retirement, till the fields of other 
 emigrants openedr wide clearings, and dwellings 
 rose so thickly in the neighborhood as to 
 form villages ; when Boone made up his mind 
 to remove to some wilder spot. 
 
 The country west of the Cumberland Moun- 
 tains was almost unknown in 1760. Some 
 few hardy adventurers had struck into the 
 pathless forest which extended along the front- 
 ier settlements, but the Alleghanies had proved 
 an insurmountable barrier to the families of 
 settlers. The stories told by adventurers, 
 meanwhile, who had ventured into the skirts 
 of the wilderness, kindled the imagination of 
 enterprising hunters. In 1767, Finley went 
 still further, and penetrated through a por- 
 tion of Tennessee. " There is nothing," says 
 the biographer of Boone, " grand or imposing 
 in scenery, nothing striking or picturesque in 
 the ascent and precipitous declivity 6f moun- 
 tains covered with woods ; nothing romantic or 
 delightful in deep and sheltered valleys through 
 which wind clear streams — that was not found 
 
246 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 in this region. Mountains stretch along in 
 continuous ridges, and now and then shoot up 
 into elevated peaks. On the summit of some 
 spread plateaus, which ai!brd the most romantic 
 prospects, and offer every advantage for culti- 
 vation, with the purest and most bracing 
 atmosphere. No words can picture the se- 
 cluded beauty of some of the vales bordering 
 the small streams, which fling their spray, 
 transparent as air, over moss-covered and time- 
 worn rocks, walled in by precipitous moun- 
 tains, down which pour numerous waterfalls." 
 The rich soil and inviting aspect of this coun- 
 try gave large ideas of its advantages; and 
 as the wanderer penetrated into Kentucky, 
 the luxuriant beauty of its plains, its rich 
 canebrakes and flower-covered forests promised 
 every thing desirable in a new home. The 
 forest abounded with deer, elk, and buffaloes, 
 and more savage wild beasts had their lair in 
 its depths and in the thick tangles of the 
 green cane ; while pheasants, partridges, wild 
 turkeys, &c., were as plenty as domestic fowls 
 upon a farm. The report of Finley determined 
 Boone to go westward, and others having been 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 247 
 
 induced to join him in an exploring expedition, 
 six assembled at his house on the first of 
 May, 1769 — all the neighbors being gathered 
 to witness their departure. Mrs. Boone parted 
 with her husband, who left his house laden 
 with his rifle, hunter's bag of ammunition, and 
 light knapsack — the only luggage taken by 
 the adventurers. Their expedition across the 
 Alleghanies into the boundless forests of the 
 Ohio valley, where the buffalo roamed like 
 herds of cattle, has been elsewhere described. 
 The land appeared the very paradise of hunt- 
 ers, and Boone could not imagine how any 
 one who could fix his home in such a region, 
 would stay among the barren pine-hills of 
 North Carolina. The exploring party divided, 
 to take different routes, and Boone and Stewart 
 were taken prisoners by wandering Indians. 
 
 They managed, however, to escape, and Boone 
 joined his elder brother, while Stewart and 
 another of their number were killed. The 
 brothers were soon in want of ammunition, 
 and the elder Boone returned to North Caro- 
 lina, while Daniel, regardless of danger, re- 
 mained alone in the rough cabin he had built, 
 
248 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 from the first of May to the 27th of July, 
 1770, at which time his brother came back 
 with cheering news from his family. Having 
 finished their survey, both returned to report 
 to their neighbors what they had seen, and 
 form a company of such persons as were willing 
 to join the famihes of the Boones in their pio- 
 neer settlement. Their descriptions of the 
 luxuriance of the country — its canebrakes, clo- 
 ver plains, limestone springs, maple orchards, 
 streams and forests filled with game and wild- 
 fowl, were matched by fearful accounts from 
 others of the depredations and cruelties of 
 Indians, dangers of wild beasts, and diseases 
 peculiar to a wild country ; so that it was two 
 years before preparations were completed for 
 the expedition. The party commenced the 
 march the 26th September, 1773, and were 
 joined by forty persons in " Powell's valley," 
 a settlement some distance westward ; num- 
 bering about eighty in all. They crossed the 
 wild and rugged range of mountains by the 
 course the brothers had traced on their return, 
 but they were not destined to proceed much 
 further. As they descended the west side of 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 249 
 
 Walden's ridge, along a narrow defile, they 
 were suddenly startled by the yells of Indians, 
 and a fierce aliray ensued, in which six men 
 were killed, and some of the stock scattered 
 and lost. In the general distress, the company 
 decided unanimously on giving up the attempt 
 to form a settlement in Kentucky, and re- 
 turning to Clinch river, forty miles in the rear, 
 where a number of families had already located 
 themselves. It may be supposed that Mrs. 
 Boone, whose eldest son had been slain in the 
 encounter, had lost all spirit for the enterprise, 
 and her husband was obliged to submit to the 
 decision of the rest. Their new home, accord- 
 ingly, was for some time on the banks of Clinch 
 river. In 1775, he superintended the erection 
 of a fort on the Kentucky river, afterward 
 called Boonesborough. The fort consisted of 
 one block-house, and several cabins, surrounded 
 by palisades. This work was accomplished 
 amidst trouble from the Indians, and when it 
 was finished Boone returned for his family. 
 They took up their abode at the earliest 
 military station — except the house built by 
 Harrod in 1774 in Kentucky — Mrs. Boone and 
 
250 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 her daughters being the first white women 
 who had ever stood on the banks of Ken- 
 tucky river. 
 
 It was the close of summer, and at this 
 time the spot selected for their residence ap- 
 peared in its best aspect. The early autumn 
 was mild and beautiful, and arrangements were 
 made for the cultivation of the land as soon 
 as spring should open. Winter came, and 
 passed with little discomfort. Their cabins 
 were thoroughly daubed with clay ; they had 
 abundance of fuel, and were at no loss for 
 game and provisions. Those who went out 
 to fell trees, however, were constrained to be 
 on their guard against attacks from Indians, 
 who might aim at them from some covert in 
 the woods, and the men never left home 
 without carrying their rifles and knives. The 
 women occasionally ventured a short distance 
 without the palisades in the daytime, but 
 never out of sight of the fort. 
 
 The months thus passed without monotony 
 or want of excitement; spring opened, the 
 trees to be felled were girdled, the brush cut 
 down and burned, preparations made for 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 251 
 
 plowing the field, and a garden spot marked 
 off, which, when the virgin earth had been 
 thrown up, was given in charge to Mrs. Boone 
 and her daughters. They had brought out a 
 stock of seeds from the old settlements, and 
 went out every bright day to plant them. The 
 little party of women was reinforced, among 
 others, by the daughters of Colonel Calloway, 
 a friend of Boone, who had brought his family 
 to the station. Their fondness for possessing 
 themselves of the spoils of the forest, led to 
 a romantic instance of the peril of the tim^s. 
 A little daughter of Boone, with Calloway's 
 two, was captured by Indians the 7th of July. 
 Flint says they were gathering flowers in the 
 woods when the savages rushed upon them ; 
 and that they were not missed until some time 
 after they had been carried off. I copy the 
 account given of the pursuit of Boone, and 
 the recovery of the captives, by Colonel Floyd, 
 an actor in the scene— in preference to other 
 narratives. He says that the girls were taken 
 out of a canoe in the river, within sight of 
 Boonesborough. " The affair happened late in 
 the afternoon, and the spoilers left the canoe 
 
252 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 on the opposite side of the river from us, 
 which prevented our getting over for some 
 time to pursue them. Next morning by day- 
 light we were on the track, but found they had 
 totally prevented our following them by walk- 
 ing some distance apart, through the thickest 
 cane they could find. We observed their 
 course, and on which side we had left their 
 sign, and traveled upward of thirty miles. We 
 then imagined that they would be less cautious 
 in traveling, made a turn in order to cross 
 their trace, and had not gone but a few miles 
 before we found their tracks in a buffalo path ; 
 pursued and overtook them on going about 
 ten miles, just as they were kindling a fire 
 to cook. Our study had been more to get the 
 prisoners without giving the Indians time to 
 murder them after they discovered us, than 
 to kill the savages. We discovered each other 
 nearly at the same time. Four of us fired 
 and all rushed on them, which prevented 
 their carrying any thing away, except one 
 shot-gun without ammunition. Mr. Boone and 
 myself had a pretty fair shot just as they 
 began to move off. I am well convinced I 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 253 
 
 shot one through, and the one he shot dropped 
 his gun ; mine had none. The place was very 
 thick with cane, and being so much elated on 
 recovering the three little broken-hearted girls, 
 prevented our making any further search. 
 We sent them off without their ir >'"'\'isins, and 
 not one of them so much as a knife or a 
 tomahawk." 
 
 With the commencement of the war of the 
 Revolution, the ravages of Indian warfare 
 along the whole line of border settlements 
 became more extensive and violent; British 
 influence and resources securing the savages 
 as their allies along the frontier, from the 
 northeastern part of Vermont and New York 
 to the Mississippi. The story of Boone's life 
 is interwoven with the scenes of plunder, 
 captivity, burning, and massacre, which swept, 
 and in many instances desolated the infant 
 colonies of the north and west. Yet new emi- 
 grants came, many of them of respectable 
 standing, and some noted in the history of the 
 time. Mrs. McGary, Mrs. Hogan, and Mrs. 
 Denton, had taken up their residence in the 
 fort at Boonesborough. At the same time 
 
254 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 hordes of savages crossed the Ohio with the 
 design of extirpating these germs of social 
 establishments in the Indian's favorite hunting- 
 ground, and in numerous detachments spread 
 in every direction through the forest. 
 
 But the increase of danger did not drive 
 back the pioneers, or prevent still further 
 reinforcements. Those who first ventured 
 into Kentucky and Tennessee, had come in 
 small parties, but on their return to the old 
 settlements they gathered companies of their 
 friends and connections, old and young, with 
 their wives and children, flocks and herds, re- 
 solved on emigration, and pledged by mutual 
 neccwssity to stand by each other in life and 
 death. There was among them none of the 
 jealousy and want of unity which prevail, more 
 or less, among their descendants ; yet were 
 not these primitive hunters assimilated to 
 savages in their habits, but possessing keen 
 and strong intellects as well as powerful frames, 
 and every qualification for social hfe. Their 
 first care on reaching their destination was to 
 select a spot for the new dwelling, usually 
 chosen, on a gently elevated ground, of exu- 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 255 
 
 beraut fertility, where trees were sparse, and 
 there was no underbrush to prevent the hunt- 
 er's riding at fall speed. The growth of cane^ 
 wild clover, and pawpaw marked the best soil. 
 Cabins being put up for immediate use, the 
 little settlement was converted into a station. 
 For this purpose it was necessary to inclose a 
 spring or well, near a salt lick or sugar orchard 
 if practicable ; then a wide space must be 
 cleared, so that the enemy could not approach 
 close under the shelter of the woods. The 
 station was to overlook, moreover, as much of 
 the country as possible. It included from half 
 an acre to an acre of ground, and the trench 
 was usually dug four or five feet deep and 
 planted with large and close pickets, forming 
 a compact wall ten or twelve feet above the 
 surface of the earth. The pickets were of hnrd 
 timber and about a foot in diameter, and the 
 soil around them was rammed into great 
 solidity. At the angles were small projecting 
 squares called " flunkers," with oblique port- 
 holes, from which the fire of sentinels within 
 could rake the external front of the station; 
 and in front and rear two folding gates swung 
 
256 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 on enormous wooden hinges. The gates were 
 barred every night, and sentinels posted alter- 
 nately, one being stationed on the roof in 
 time of peculiar danger. These fortified places 
 in the wilderness had their clean turfed area 
 for dancing, wrestling, or other athletic exer- 
 cises ; the inmates of the fort passed their 
 evenings sociably together, cheerful fires blazing 
 within the inclosure, and suppers of venison 
 and wild turkeys, wild fruits and maple beer 
 were enjoyed with double relish amid the 
 distant howling of wolves, or the Indian war- 
 whoop, heard like the roar of the dying storm. 
 Such was Bryant's station in 1782, the nucleus 
 of the earliest settlements in the rich and 
 lovely country of which Lexington is the cen- 
 ter — and such were others built at that period. 
 The captivity of Boone, his escape and return 
 to Boonesborough, and the Indian siege of 
 that station in 1778 — the last it sustained — 
 belong to the biography of the renowned 
 woodsman, not to this memoir. When during 
 a long interval no information concerning Boone 
 could be obtained, he was supposed by the 
 people at the garrison and his family to have 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 257 
 
 fallen a victim to savage vengeance. Mrs. 
 Boone, believing herself widowed, at length 
 resolved, with her children, to leave the wes- 
 tern forests, and return to the banks of the 
 Y-idkin. Kentucky, she said, had indeed been 
 to her a " dark and bloody ground." The 
 family returned to their friends in North Caro- 
 lina, nearly five years having elapsed since they 
 had started with the first party of emigrants 
 for Kentucky. The friends from whom she 
 then parted had heard afterward of their dis- 
 astrous encounter with the Indians, their return 
 to Clinch river, and subsequent residence at 
 Boonesborough ; but knew nothing of their 
 further trials. When about the close of the 
 summer of 1778, these pilgrims returning 
 from the western wilds were seen approaching 
 on pack-horses, the sight caused no little sur- 
 prise and wonder among the dwellers on the 
 banks of the Yadkin. The mother wore deep 
 mourning, and her dejected countenance showed 
 the grief that had worn her strong spirit ; the 
 same melancholy was evident in the faces of 
 her eldest surviving son, and her daughter 
 
 who had been captured ; the other children 
 17 
 
258 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 being too young to feel trial or change. The 
 travelers were clad in skins, and the primi- 
 tive habiliments of the wilderness, and as the 
 cavalcade stopped at Mr. Bryan's house, the 
 neighbors collected to learn what had happened, 
 and listen with interest to Mrs. Boone's 
 relation of her adventures and sorrows. 
 
 After having driven the enemy from Boones- 
 borough, Colonel Boone set out to cross the 
 Alleghanies in pursuit of his wife and chil- 
 dren ; surmounting with iron strength of en- 
 durance the difficulties of the way. It may 
 be imagined how joyfully his return was hailed 
 by those who had so long believed him dead. 
 They returned in the following summer to 
 Boouesborough, which enjoyed tranquillity as 
 the country became more thickly settl (J. 
 Many incidents of interest after this reunion, 
 in which Boone was prominent, are recorded 
 in the history of Kentucky, but do not per- 
 tain to this sketch. One connected with 
 another pioneer, may be mentioned as illus- 
 trative. 
 
 Benjamin Logan, who had brought his fiimily 
 from the Holston to Logan's Fort, in March, 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 259 
 
 1776, was obliged afterward to remove them 
 for safety to Harrodsburgh. Before the attack 
 on Harrodsburgh in the winter of 1777, he 
 returned with six families to the cabins he had 
 built, and commenced palisading the station. 
 '' On the 20th of May, while the females of 
 the establishment were milking their cows, 
 sustained by a guard of their husbands and 
 fathers, the whole party was suddenly assailed 
 by a large body of Indians concealed in a 
 canebrake. One man was killed and two 
 wounded, one mortally^ the other severely. 
 The remainder reached the interior of the 
 palisades in safety. The number in all was 
 thirty, half of whom were women and children. 
 A circumstance was now discovered exceedingly 
 trying to such a benevolent spirit as that of 
 Logan. While the Indians were still firing, 
 and the inmates exulting in their safety while 
 others mourned over their dead and wounded, 
 it was perceived that one of the wounded, by 
 the name of Harrison, was still alive, and ex- 
 posed every moment to be scalped. All this 
 his wife and family could discover from within 
 It is not difficult to imagine their agonized 
 
260 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 condition and piercing lamentations. Logan 
 displayed on this occasion the same tender 
 compassion and insensibility to danger, that 
 characterized his friend Boone in similar cir- 
 cumstances. He endeavored to rally a few 
 of the male inmates of the place to join him 
 rush out, and bring the wounded man within 
 the palisades. But so obvious was the dan- 
 ger, so forlorn appeared the enterprise, that 
 no one could be found disposed to volunteer 
 his aid, except a single individual by the 
 name of John Martin. When he had reached 
 the gate, the wounded man raised himself 
 partly erect and made a movement as if trying 
 to reach the fort himself On this Martin 
 desisted from the enterprise and left Logan 
 to attempt it alone. He rushed forward to 
 the wounded man, who made some effort to 
 crawl onward by his aid ; but weakened by 
 the loss of blood, and the anguish of his 
 wounds, he fainted, and Logan taking him in 
 his arms, bore him toward the fort. A shower 
 of bullets was discharged at them, many of 
 which struck the palisades close to Logan's 
 head, as he brought the wounded man safe 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 261 
 
 within the gate, and deposited him in the care 
 of his family. 
 
 *' The station, at this juncture, was destitute 
 both of powder and ball, and there was no 
 chance of supplies nearer than Holston ; all 
 intercourse between station and station was 
 cut off. Without ammunition the fort could 
 not be defended against the Indians, and the 
 question was how to obtain a supply in this 
 pressing emergency. Captain Logan, selecting 
 two trusty companions, left the fort by night, 
 evading the besieging Indians, reached the 
 woods, made his way in safety to Holston, pro- 
 cured the necessary supplies of ammunition, 
 and packed it under their care on horseback, 
 giving them directions how to proceed. He 
 then left them, and traversing the forest by a 
 shorter route on foot reached the fort in 
 safety, ten days after his departure. The In- 
 dians still kept up the siege with unabated 
 perseverance, and the hopes of the diminished 
 garrison had given way to despondency. The 
 return of Logan inspired them however with 
 renewed confidence." 
 
 We select another narrative in detail, to 
 
262 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 convey an idea of Indiarf hostility on the one 
 hand, and the manner in which it was met 
 on the other. " A family lived on Cooper's 
 run, in Bourbon county, consisting of a mother, 
 two sons of mature age, a widowed daughter 
 with an infant in her arms, two grown daugh- 
 ters, and a daughter ten years old. The house 
 was a double cabin. The two grown daughters 
 and the smaller girl were in one division, and 
 the rest of the family in the other. At night 
 a knocking was heard at the door of the 
 latter division, asking in good English and 
 the customary western phrase : ' Who keeps 
 house ? ' As the sons went to open the door, 
 the mother forbade them, affirming that the 
 persons claiming admission were Indians. The 
 young men sprang to their guns; and the 
 Indians finding themselves refused admittance 
 at the door, made an effort at the opposite 
 one. That door they soon beat open with a 
 rail, and endeavored to take the three girls 
 prisoners. The little girl sprang away, and 
 might have escaped in the darkness and the 
 woods, but the foolish child under a natural 
 impulse ran to the other door and cried for 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 2i)6 
 
 help. The brothers- within it may be supposed 
 would wish to go forth and protect the feeble 
 and terrified wailer. The mother taking a 
 broader view of duty, forbade them. The 
 savages soon hushed the cries of the distressed 
 child by the merciless tomahawk. While some 
 of the Indians were engaged in murdering this 
 child, another was binding one of the grown 
 girls whom he had captured, the other young 
 woman defending herself with a knife which 
 she had been using at the loom at the mo- 
 ment of attack. The intrepidity she displayed 
 was unavailing. She killed one Indian and 
 was herself dispatched by another. The sav- 
 ages meanwhile having obtained possession of 
 one half the house, fired it. The persons shut 
 up in the other half had now no" other alterna- 
 tive than to be consumed in the flames rapidly 
 spreading^ toward them, or to go forth and 
 expose themselves to the murderous toma- 
 hawks that had already laid three of the family 
 in their blood. The Indians stationed them- 
 selves in the dark angles of the fence, where, 
 by the bright glare of the flames, they could 
 see every thing and yet remain themselves 
 
264 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 unseen. Here they could make a sure mark 
 of all that should escape from within. One 
 of the sons took charge of his aged and 
 infirm mother, and the other of his widowed 
 sister and her infant. The brothers emerged 
 from the burning ruins, separated and endeav- 
 ored to spring over the fence. The mother 
 was shot dead as her son was piously helping 
 her over, the other brother being killed as he 
 was gallantly defending his sister. The widowed 
 sister, her infant and one of the brothers es- 
 caped the massacre and alarmed the settlement. 
 Thirty men, commanded by Colonel Edwards, 
 arrived next day to witness the appalling 
 spectacle presented around the smoking ruins 
 of this cabin. Considerable snow had fiUen, 
 and the Indians were obliged to leave -a trail 
 which easily indicated their path. In the 
 evening of that day, they came upon the ex- 
 piring body of the young woman, apparently 
 murdered but a few moments before their 
 arrival; the Indians having been premonished 
 of their pursuit by the barking of a dog that 
 followed them. The white men overtook and 
 killed two of the savages that had strayed 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 265 
 
 behind, apparently as voluntary victims to 
 secure the retreat of the rest." 
 
 After numerous perils and escapes, and great 
 services to the country, Boone had the privi- 
 lege of rejoicing in the peace that followed 
 the defeat of the northern tribes of Indians 
 by General Wayne. His perseverance had 
 triumphed over all obstacles, and the kindred 
 spirit of his wife had aided and encouraged 
 him in his various adventures, whether descend- 
 ing the Alleghanies, tracing the course of the 
 Cumberland and Tennessee, roaming through 
 the forests of Kentucky, wandering a captive 
 through the wilderness to the great lakes, or 
 following the waters of the Wabash, Miamies, 
 and Scioto. When the tide of emigration had 
 poured into the country, and disputes and liti- 
 gation arose as to the ownership of land, the 
 band of primitive pioneers was dispersed, and 
 Boone moved his family to the woods on the 
 banks of the Great Kanawha, having heard 
 that deer and buffaloes were to be found on 
 the unsettled lands near the river. Their home 
 was for some years near Point Pleasant; 
 but game was not so abundant as could be 
 
266 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 desired, and the report of adventurers returned 
 from the vast prairies and unexplored forests 
 of the Missouri determined Boone once more 
 to flee from the encroaching advance of civili- 
 zation. Taking up his rifle and light luggage, 
 he set out with the faithful companion of his 
 wanderings and their children, driving their 
 stock before them, and passed through Cincin- 
 nati in 1798. They settled in St. Charles 
 county, about forty miles above St. Louis. 
 After Missouri had come under the government 
 of the United States, the tide of emigration 
 and enterprise again swept by the dweUing 
 of our pioneers, driving off the game, and 
 changing the hunting-grounds into farms. A 
 follower too, even more sure to overtake 
 them, came on apace ; old age with its conse- 
 quent infirmities. Mrs. Boone died in March, 
 1813. A most faithful and efficient helpmeet 
 had she proved to the pioneer possessing the 
 same energy, heroism, and firmness which he 
 had shown in all the vicissitudes of his event- 
 ful career, with the gentler qualities by which 
 woman, as the center of the domestic sys- 
 tem, diffuses happiness and trains her children 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 267 
 
 to become useful and honored in after life. 
 Having shared willingly in the hardships, 
 labors and dangers of those adventurers whose 
 names live in grateful remembrance, she is 
 entitled to some portion of the renown that 
 has embalmed them. 
 
 An anecdote or two illustrative of the in- 
 security of families in those days, and of the 
 horrors undescribed in most cases, may not be 
 inappropriate before closing this memoir. In 
 the spring of 1780, Alexander McConnel, who 
 lived at Lexington, then a small cluster of 
 cabins, having killed a buck in the woods, 
 went home for a horse, and returning, was 
 seized and carried off by five Indians. After 
 several days' travel, when they reached the 
 banks of the Ohio, they omitted the precau- 
 tion of binding him closely one night, merely 
 tying the buffalo tug Ground his wrists, and 
 fastening it to their bodies ; and he resolved 
 on making his escape. About midnight, cast- 
 ing his eyes in the direction of his feet, they 
 fell on the glittering blade of a knife which 
 had escaped its sheath and was lying near the 
 feet of one of the Indians. He could not reach 
 
268 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 it with his hands, but with some difficulty 
 grasped the blade between his toes, and drew 
 it within his reach. He then cut his cords, 
 and silently extricated himself from his cap- 
 tors; but he knew it would be necessary to 
 kill them to avoid pursuit and certain death. 
 After anxious reflection, his plan was formed, 
 and carefully removing the guns of the In- 
 dians, which were stacked near the fire, and 
 hiding them in the woods, he took two, and 
 returning to the spot where his enemies were 
 still sleeping, he placed the muzzles of each 
 on a log within six feet of his victims, and 
 pulled both triggers. Both shots were fatal; 
 he then ran to secure one of the other rifles, 
 and fired at two of the savages, standing in a 
 line, killing one and wounding the other, who 
 limped off into the forest. The fifth darted off 
 like a deer, with a yell of astonishment and 
 terror. 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. A Mrs. Dunlap, who had been 
 several months a prisoner among the Indians 
 on Mad River, soon afterward came to the 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 269 
 
 same place, having made her escape, and re- 
 ported that the survivor had returned to his 
 tribe with a lamentable tale of an attack by 
 a large party of white men, who had killed 
 the poor bound prisoner, as well as his com 
 panions ! 
 
 An adventure of a different kind befell 
 McKinley, a school teacher, in the following 
 year. While sitting alone at his desk, he heard 
 a shght noise at the door, and saw an enor- 
 mous wild cat. He rose to snatch up a cylin- 
 drical rule to defend himself, but the creature 
 darted upon him, tore his clothes from his 
 side, and buried her claws and teeth in his 
 flesh. He threw himself on the edge of the 
 table, and pressed the assailant against its 
 sharp corner with ail his force. Her cries, 
 mingled with his own, now alarmed the neigh- 
 bors, and after a few moments the dead animal 
 was disengaged from her prey, though her 
 tusks were dislodged with some difficulty from 
 between his ribs. 
 
 In the beginning of 1794, a party of In- 
 dians killed George Mason on Flat Creek, 
 twelve miles from Knoxville. In the night 
 
270 LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 he heard a noise in his stable, and stepped 
 out; was intercepted before he could return, 
 by the savages,' and fled, but was fired upon 
 and wounded. He reached a cave, from which 
 he was dragged out and murdered, and the 
 Indians returned to the house to dispatch his 
 wife and children. Mrs. Mason heard them 
 talking as they approached, and hoped her 
 neighbors, aroused by the firing, had come to 
 her assistance. But perceiving that the con- 
 versation was neither in English nor German, 
 she knew they were enemies. She had that 
 very morning learned how to set the double 
 trigger of a rifle. Fortunately the children 
 were not awakened, and she took care not to 
 disturb them. She had shut the door, barred 
 it with benches and tables, and taking down 
 her husband's well charged rifle, placed herself 
 directly opposite the opening which would be 
 made by forcing the door. Her husband 
 came not, and she was but too well convinced 
 he had been slain. She was alone in darkness, 
 and the yelling savages were pressing on the 
 house. Pushing with great violence, they 
 gradually opened the door wide enough to 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 271 
 
 attempt an entrance, and the body of one was 
 thrust into the opening and tilled it, two or 
 three more urging him forward. Mrs. Mason 
 set the trigger of the rifle, put the muzzle 
 near the body of the foremost, and fired. The 
 first Indian fell ; the next uttered the scream 
 of mortal agony. The intrepid woman ob- 
 served profound silence, and the savages were 
 led to believe that armed men were in the 
 house. They withdrew, took three horses from 
 the stable, and set it on fire. It was afterward 
 ascertained^ that this high-minded woman save^l 
 herself and children from the attack of twenty 
 five assailants. 
 
 The opportunity seems favorable to notice 
 the spirit and manners of those primitive times 
 of Kentucky history. After the period of the 
 attack on Bryant's station, and the disastrous 
 battle of the Blue Licks, which took place on 
 the 18th of August, 1782, notwithstanding the 
 dangers which surrounded the settlements, 
 they began to have more of the aspect of 
 communities. The proportion of women, which 
 had hitherto been so small, became larger, and 
 a license to marry is said to have been the 
 
272 LITE OF REBECCA BOONE. 
 
 first process issued by the clerks of the new 
 counties. The first settlers having generally 
 been composed of those who had braved the 
 perils of settling the frontiers of the adjacent 
 states, their helpmates were accustomed to 
 labor and hardship. The duties of the house- 
 hold were discharged by the females. 
 
 " They milked the cows, prepared the meats, 
 spun and wove the garments of their husbands 
 and children ; while the men hunted the game 
 of the woods, cleared the land, and planted the 
 grain. To grind the Indian corn into meal 
 on the rude and laborious hand-mill, or to 
 pound it into hominy in a mortar, was occa- 
 sionally the work of either sex. The defense 
 of the country, the building of forts and cabins, 
 fell most properly to the share of the men; 
 though in those hardy times, it was not at all 
 uncommon for females, during a siege, to run 
 bullets and neck them for the rifle. Deer skins 
 were extensively used for dress, to compose 
 the hunting-shirt, the long overalls, the leg" 
 gins, and the soft and pliable moccasins; the 
 buffalo and bear furnished the principal cov- 
 ering for the night. Handkerchiefs tied round 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BOONE. 273 
 
 the head, often supplied the place of hats; 
 stripes of buffalo hide were used for ropes. 
 Stores or shops were unknown ; wooden vessels 
 either prepared by the turner, the cooper, or 
 their rude representatives in the woods, were 
 the common substitutes for table furniture. 
 A tin cup was an article of delicate luxury 
 almost as rare as an iron fork. Every hunter 
 carried a knife, too aptly called a "scalping 
 knife," in the hands of the white man as well 
 as those of the Indian ; and one or two knives 
 would compose the cutlery of flimilies. The 
 furniture of the cabin was appropriate to the 
 habitation ; the table was made of a slab, or 
 thick, flat piece of timber, split and roughly 
 hewn with the ax, with legs prepared in the 
 same manner. This latter instrument was the 
 principal tool in all mechanical operations, and 
 with the adze, the auger, and above all, the rifle, 
 composed the richest mechanical assortment ot 
 Kentucky. Stools of the same material and 
 manufacture, filled the place of chairs. When 
 some one more curiously nice than his neighbors, 
 chose to elevate his bed above the floor, (often 
 the naked ground), it was placed on slabs laid 
 18 
 
274 LIFE OF REBECCx\ BOONE. 
 
 across poles which were again supported by- 
 forks, driven into the floor. If, however, the 
 ^ojy happened to be so luxurious as to be made 
 of puncheons (another larger sort of slabs), 
 the bedstead became hewed pieces, let into the 
 sides of the cabin by auger holes in the logs. 
 The cradle of these times was a small rolling 
 trough, much like what is called the sugar 
 trough, used to receive the sap of the sugar 
 maple. Still the food in these rude habitations, 
 and with this rough and inartificial furniture, 
 was the richest milk and finest butter furnished 
 by the luxuriant^ pasture of the woods, covered 
 with the rich pea vine and the luscious cane. 
 The game of the country, it has been already 
 seen, struck the experienced eye of even Boone 
 as profuse beyond measure ; it was the theme 
 of admiration to every hunter; nor did the 
 abundance afford slight assistance to the whites 
 in their conquest of the land. The enemy 
 would never have permitted provisions to have 
 been transported, or to have been grown by 
 the slow and peaceable process of farming; 
 and the consequence must have been that the 
 stations would have been starved into surren- 
 
LIFE OF REBECCA BQONE. 275 
 
 der, but for the providential supply of the 
 deer, the bufiflilo, and the bear. These we^'^ to 
 be obtained by every gallant rifleman; anu 
 this so abundantly that the buffalo has often 
 been shot in order to enjoy either its hump 
 or its tongue. The hospitality of these times 
 was much less a merit than an enjoyment; 
 oflen a protection to both parties. The fare 
 was rough, but heartily and generously divided 
 with every fellow-woodsman." 
 
 Generosity, hardihood, bravery, and endu- 
 rance of suffering, were prominent and unde- 
 niable features in the character of these first 
 settlers. But the female sex, though certainly 
 an object of more regard than among the In- 
 dians, had to endure much hardship, and occupy 
 a rank inferior to the male partner, among 
 the earliest emigrants, the state of society 
 exercising high physical qualities rather than 
 mental or artificial endowments. 
 
AN INDIAN CHIEF WITH HIS WILD BOAR TEETH 
 NECKLACE— 276. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY AND EEMAIIKAELE DELIVERANCE OF 
 MRS. FRANCIS SCOTT, OF WASHINGTON COUNTY, VIR- 
 GINIA, WHO WAS TAKEN EY THE INDIANS, ON THE 
 EVENING OF THE TWENTY-NINTH OF JUNE, 1785. 
 
 On Wednesday, the 29th day of June, 1785, 
 late in the evening, a large company of armed 
 men passed the house on their way to Ken- 
 tucky, some part of whom encamped within 
 two miles. Mr. Scott's living on a frontier 
 part generally made the family watchful ; but 
 on this calamitous day, after so large a body 
 of men had passed, he lay down in his bed, 
 and imprudently left one of the doors of his 
 house open ; the children were also in bed and 
 asleep. Mrs. Scott was nearly undressed, 
 when, to her unutterable astonishment and 
 horror, she saw rushing in through the door, 
 that was left open, painted savages, with their 
 arms presented at the same time, raising a 
 hideous shriek. Mr. Scott, being awake, in- 
 stantly jumped from his bed, and was imme- 
 diately fired at. He forced his way through 
 the midst of the enemy, and got out of the 
 house, but fell a few paces from the door 
 
 277 
 
278 CAPTIVITY ANi) DELIVERANCE OF 
 
 An Indian seized Mrs. Scott, and ordered her 
 to a particular place, charging her not to move. 
 Others stabbed and cut the throats of the 
 three youngest children in their bed, and 
 afterward lifted them up, and dashed them on 
 the floor near their mother. The eldest, a 
 beautiful girl, eight years of age, awoke, and 
 jumping out of bed, ran to her mother, and 
 with the most plaintive accents cried, " 
 mamma ! mamma 1 save me ! " The mother, 
 in the deepest anguish of spirit, and with a 
 flood of tears, entreated the Indians to spare 
 her life ; but, with that awfully revolting bru- 
 tality, they tomahawked and stabbed her in 
 her mother's arms ! ! 
 
 Adjacent to Mr. Scott's dwelling house 
 another family lived of the name of Ball. 
 The Indians also attacked them at the same 
 time, but the door being shut, they fired into 
 the house through an opening between the 
 logs which composed its walls, and killed a 
 lad, and then essayed to force open the door ; 
 but a brother of the lad which had been 
 shot down, fired at the Indians through the 
 door, and they relinquished the attack. In 
 
MRS. FRANCIS SCOTT. 279 
 
 the mean time the remaining part of the 
 family ran out of the house and escaped. 
 
 In the house of Mr. Scott were four good 
 rifles, well loaded, belonging to people that had 
 left them as they were going to Kentucky. 
 The Indians, thirteen in number, seized these, 
 and all the plunder they could lay their 
 hands on besides, and hastily began a retreat 
 into the wilderness. It was now late in the 
 evening, and they traveled all the following 
 night. The next morning, June the 30th, 
 the chief of the party allotted to each of his 
 followers his share of the plunder and pris- 
 oners, at the same time detaching nine of his 
 party to go on a horse-stealing expedition on 
 Clinch river. 
 
 The eleventh day after Mrs. Scott's cap- 
 tivity, four Indians that had her in charge 
 stopped at a place fixed on for rendezvous, 
 and to hunt, being now in want of provisions. 
 Three of these four set out on the hunting 
 expedition, leaving their chief, an old man, to 
 take care of the prisoner, who now had, to ail 
 appearances, become reconciled to her situa- 
 tion, and expressed a williagness to proceed 
 
280 CAPTIVITY AND DELIVERANCE OF 
 
 to the Indian towns, which seemed to have the 
 desired effect of lessening her keeper's watch- 
 fulness. In the daytime, while the old man 
 was graining a deer-skin, Mrs. Scott, pondering 
 on her situation, began anxiously to look for 
 an opportunity to make her escape. At 
 length, having matured her resolution in her 
 own mind for the accomplishment of this ob- 
 ject, the first opportunity she goes to the old 
 chief with great confidence, and in the most 
 disinterested manner asked him for liberty to 
 go to a small stream, a little distance off, to 
 wash the blood from her apron, that had re- 
 mained upon it since the fatal night, ca.used 
 by the murder of her child in her arms, be- 
 fore related. He replied, in the English 
 tongue, "go along." She then passed by 
 him, his face being in a contrary direction 
 from that she was going, and he was very busy 
 in dressing his skin, passed on, seemingly un- 
 noticed by him. 
 
 After arriving at the water, instead of 
 stopping to wash her apron, as she pretended, 
 she proceeded on without a moment's delay. 
 She laid her course for a high barren moun- 
 
MRS. FRANCIS SCOTT. 281 
 
 tain which was in sight, and traveled until 
 late at night, when she came down into the 
 valley in search of the track she had been 
 taken along in by the Indians a few days 
 before, hoping thereby to find the way back 
 to the settlement without the imminent peril, 
 which now surrounded her, of being lost and 
 perishing with hunger in this unknown region. 
 On coming across the valley to the side of 
 a river which skirted it, supposed to be the 
 easterly branch of Kentucky river, she ob- 
 served in the sand, tracks of two men that 
 had gone up the river, and had just returned. 
 She concluded these to have been her pursu- 
 ers, which excited in her breast emotions of 
 gratitude and thankfulness to divine Provi- 
 dence for so timely a deliverance. Being 
 without any provisions, having no kind of 
 weapon or tool to assist her in getting any, 
 and almost destitute of clothing; also knowing 
 that a vast tract of rugged high mountains 
 intervened between where she was and the 
 inhabitants easterly, and she almost as ignorant 
 as a child of the method of steering through 
 the woods, excited painful sensations. But 
 
282 CAPTIVITY AND DELIVERANCE OF 
 
 certain death, either by hunger or wild beasts, 
 seemed to be better than to be in the power 
 of beings who excited in her mind such hor- 
 ror. She addressed Heaven, and taking cour- 
 age proceeded onward. 
 
 After traveling three days, she had nearly 
 met with the Indians, as she supposed, that 
 had been sent to Clinch river, to steal horses, 
 but providentially hearing their approach, 
 concealed herself among the cane until they 
 had passed by her. This giving her a fresh 
 alarm, and her mind being filled with conster- 
 nation, she got lost, proceeded backward and 
 forward for several days. At length she 
 came to a river that seemed to come from 
 the east. Concluding it was Sandy river, she 
 accordingly resolved to trace it to its source, 
 which is adjacent to the Clinch se^;tlement. 
 After proceeding up the same several days, 
 she came to the point where it runs through 
 the great Laurel mountain, where there is a 
 prodigious waterfall and high craggy cliffs 
 along the water's edge ; that way seemed 
 impassable, the mountain steep and difficult ; 
 however, our mournful traveler concluded the 
 
MRS. FRANCIS SCOTT. 283 
 
 latter way was best. She therefore ascended 
 for some time, but coming to a lofty range 
 of inaccessible rocks, she turned her course 
 toward the foot of the mountain and the river 
 side. After getting into a deep gully, and 
 passing over several high steep rocks, she 
 reached the river-side, where, to her inexpres- 
 sible affliction, she found that a perpendicular 
 rock, or rather one that hung over, to the 
 hight of fifteen or twenty feet, formed the 
 bank. Here a solemn pause ensued. She 
 essayed to return, but the hight of the steeps 
 and rocks she had descended over prevented 
 her. She then returned to the edge of the 
 precipice, and viewing the bottom of it as the 
 certain spot to end all her troubles, or remain 
 on the top to pine away with hunger, or be 
 devoured by wild beasts. 
 
 After serious meditation and devout exer- 
 cises, she determined on leaping from the 
 hight, and accordingly jumped off. Now, al- 
 though the place she had to alight upon was 
 covered with uneven rocks, not a bone was 
 broken, but being exceedingly stunned by the 
 fall, she remained unable to proceed for some 
 
284 CAPTIVITY AND DELIVERANCE OF 
 
 time. The dry season had caused the river to 
 be shallow. She traveled in it, and, where she 
 could, by its edge, until she got through the 
 mountain, which she thought was several miles. 
 After this, as she was traveling along the 
 bank of the river, a venomous snake bit her 
 on the ankle. She had strength to kill it, 
 and knowing its kind, concluded death must 
 soon overtake her. 
 
 By this time Mrs. Scott was reduced to a 
 mere skeleton, with fatigue, hunger, and grief. 
 Probably this reduced state of her system 
 saved her from the effects of the poison-fangs 
 of the snake ; be that as it may, so it was, 
 that very little pain succeeded the bite, and 
 what little swelling there was fell into her 
 feet. 
 
 Oar wanderer now left the river, and after 
 proceeding a good distance she came to wh/re 
 the valley parted into two, each leading a 
 different course. Here a painful suspense took 
 place again. How truly forlorn was now the 
 case of this poor woman ! almost ready to 
 sink down from exhaustion, who had now the 
 only prospect left that, cither in the right or 
 
MRS. FRANCIS SCOTT. 285 
 
 wrong direction, her remaining strength could 
 not carry her long, nor but a very little way, 
 and she began to despair — and who would 
 not — of ever again beholding the face of any 
 human creature. But the most awful and 
 seemingly certain dangers are sometimes provi- 
 dentially averted. 
 
 While her mind was thus agitated, a beau- 
 tiful bird passed close by her, fluttering slowly 
 along near the ground, and very remarkably 
 took its course onward in one of the valleys 
 before spoken of This drew her attention, 
 and, while pondering upon what it might mean, 
 another bird like the first, in the same man- 
 ner, passed by her, and followed the same 
 valley. She now took it for granted that 
 this was her course also; and, wonderful to 
 relate, in two days after she had wandered in 
 sight of the settlement on Clinch river, called 
 New Garden. Thus, in the third month of 
 her captivity, she was unexpectedly, though 
 joyfully, relieved from the dreadful impending 
 death by famine. But had she taken the other 
 valley, she never could have returned. The day 
 of her arrival at New Garden was August 11th. 
 
286 CAPTIVITY AND DELIVERANCE OF, &C. 
 
 Mrs. Scott relates that the Indians told her 
 that the party with whom she was a captive 
 was composed of four different nations; two 
 of whom she thinks, were Delawares and Min- 
 goes. She further relates that, during a full 
 month of her wanderings, viz : from July 10th 
 to August 1 1th, she had no other food to 
 subsist upon but what she derived from chew- 
 ing and swallowing the juice of young cane 
 stalks, sassafras leaves, and some other plants 
 of which she knew not the names ; that ou 
 her journey she saw buffaloes, elks, deers, and 
 frequently, bears and wolves, not one of which, 
 although some passed very near her, offered 
 her the least harm. One day a bear came 
 near her with a young fawn in his mouth, 
 and on discovering her he dropped his prey 
 and ran off. Prompted by the keen pangs of 
 hunger, she advanced to seize upon it, but 
 fearing the bear might return, she turned away 
 in despair, and pursued her course; thus 
 sparing her feelings, naturally averse to raw 
 Qesh, at the expense of increasing hunger. 
 
THE HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY. 287 
 
 THE HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY. 
 
 Ye gentlemen and ladies fair, 
 
 Who grace this famous city. 
 Just listen, if you 've have time to spare. 
 
 While I rehearse a ditty ; 
 And for an opportunity. 
 
 Conceive yourselves quite lucky, 
 For 't is not often here you see 
 
 A hunter from Kentucky. 
 Oh, Kentucky ! the hunters of Kentucky, 
 
 The hunters of Kentucky. 
 
 We are a hardy free-born race. 
 
 Each man to fear a stranger ; 
 Whate'er the game, we join in chase, 
 
 Despising toil and danger; 
 And if a daring foe annoy, 
 
 Whate'er his strength and forces. 
 We'll show him that Kentucky boys 
 
 Are " alligator horses." 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 I s'pose you 've read it in the prints. 
 
 How Packenham attempted 
 To make old Hickory Jackson wince. 
 
 But soon his schemes repented ; 
 For we with rifles ready cocked, 
 
 Thought such occasion lucky, 
 And soon around the general flocked 
 
 The hunters of Kentucky. 
 Oh ! Kentucky, <fec. 
 
 You 've heard, I s'pose, how New Orleans 
 
 Is famed for wealth and beauty — 
 There 's girls of every hue it seems. 
 
 From snowy white to sooty. 
 So Packenham he made his brags. 
 
 If he in fight was lucky. 
 He 'd have their girls and cotton bags, 
 
 In spite of old Kentucky. 
 Oh ! Ken tack Vs <fec. 
 
288 THE HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY. 
 
 But Jackson bo -was wide awake, 
 
 And was n't scared at trifles. 
 For well he knew what aim we take 
 
 With our Kentucky rifles ; 
 So he led us down to Cypress swamp, 
 
 The ground was low and mucky. 
 There stood John Bull in martial pomp. 
 
 And here was old Kentucky 
 Oh ! Kentucky, <tc. 
 
 A bank was raised to hide our breast 
 
 Not that we though of dying, 
 But that we always like to rest. 
 
 Unless the game is flying : 
 Beliind it stood our little force — 
 
 None wished it to be greater. 
 For every man was half a horse. 
 
 And half an alligator. 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 They did not let our patience tire. 
 
 Before they showed their faces — 
 We did not choose to waste our fire. 
 
 So snugly kept our places ; 
 But when so near to see them wink, 
 
 We thought it time to stop 'em ; 
 And 't would have done you good I think 
 
 To see Kentuckians drop 'em 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 They found at last 'twas vain to fight 
 
 Where lead was all their booty ; 
 And so they wisely took to flight, 
 
 And left us all our beauty. 
 And now if danger e'er annoys, 
 
 Eemember what our trade is ; 
 Just send for us Kentucky boys, 
 
 And we '11 protect you, ladies. 
 Oh ! Kentucky, (fee.