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COUNTY DEPARTMENT

PUBLIC LIBRARY

FORT WAYNE & ALLEN CO. IND.

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C153041

THE PUBLIC LIBRARY

of Fort Wayne and Allen County, Ind. Information For Country Borrowers

Books are free to all residents of Allen County. They may be borrow- ed from the Main Library at Fort Wayne or from any Branch, Reading Room, Deposit Station or School Library in Allen County.

/ Books will be sent by ^ parcel post, prepaid to any borrower living a dis- tance from a Library Station.

COUNTY DEPARTMENT ANTHONY 3333

153341

DATE RETURNED

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LIBRARY BUREAU CAT. NO. 1168

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DANIEL BOONE

BACKWOODSMAN

Immkdiatklv Hk Bkcamk a 'J"ak(,kt

I'lUH' I9^i

Daniel Boone

BACKWOODSMAN

BY

C. H. FORBES-LINDSAY

Author of ^^ John Smith, Gentleman Adventurer,** ^^ladiai

PMt and Present," "America's Insular

Possessions,'' etc.

FRONTISPIECE BY

FRANK McKERNAN

Who passes for in life and death most lucky. Of the great names which in our faces stare Is Daniel Boone, backwoodsman of Kentucky.* —Byron

^'t<::^

j73

PHILADELPHIA Is! LONDON J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

COPVWGHT, ir^oa

^. B. LIPPINCOTT C0filFA2^

Copyright, 1936, by C. H. FoKBES-LiNDSxy

TWENTY-THIRD IMPRESSION

PRINTED IN UOTTED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

CHArrER PACB

I The American Backwoodsman 9

II Hardy Goodfellow 24

III The Young Hunter 39

^ IV The Daring Pioneer . . . Cp.. SCHOOLS . 54

V) V In Fair Kentucky ... 1 Xv>i>?OBtX. 68

VS VI Hardy's First Indian 86

\ Vll The Capture of Boone loi

VIII The Hannibal of the West 116

( IX The Victory of Vincennes 131

X A Feat of Strength 145

XI ''Big Turtle" 160

\^ XII Diamond Cut Diamond 174

XIII Boonesborough is Besieged 188

XIV Kenton's Story 202

XV The Young Scout 216

XVI The White Squaw 229

XVII A String of Disasters 243

XVIII "The Bloody Year" 257

XIX Simon Girty, Renegade 270

XX Battle of the Blue Licks 285

XXI An Old Bird 300

XXII The Last Hunt 311

V

Daniel Boone

I.

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

The backwoods town in colonial days — The place of the backwoodsmen in the march of progress — boone and his descendants among the leading pioneers — how the backwoods fighters forced the boundary westward

— The FRONTIER FARMER WAS NECESSARILY HUNTER AND FIGHTER — The CHARACTER OF THE BACKWOODSMAN AND HIS MANNER OF LIFE— ThE DWELLINGS, DRESS AND WEAPONS OF THE FRONTIER — DaNIEL BoONE, A TYPICAL BACKWOODS- MAN— His birth and boyhood in a frontier settlement — His parents migrate to North Carolina — Then he

MARRIES and SETTLES ON THE BORDER — He EXPLORES KEN- TUCKY AND FORMS A DETERMINATION TO SETTLE THERE.

We shall be able to follow the story of Daniel Boone with a better understanding if, before enter- ing upon it, we take a brief survey of the country in which his entire life was passed and the people among whom he lived — the American backwoods and the American backswoodsmen.

At the outbreak of the Revolution the American

9

DANIEL BOONE

colonies extended no farther west than the Alle- ghany Mountains, and consisted of the narrow strip of territory lying between that rocky wall and the Atlantic seaboard. By far the greater portion of the population dwelt along the coast in urban centres, or in comparatively closely settled districts which had been cleared and cultivated. In this belt were found the large plantations and wealthy slave- owners. Beyond it, the land was covered with vir- gin forest, dense, impenetrable, except along the trails, and infested by wild beasts and savages.

In the portion of this region that lay nearest to civilization a rude backwoods town might be found here and there. It lay in a clearing of a few hun- dred acres, and usually at the junction of several frequented trails. It consisted of a cluster of log cabins, a general store, perhaps a smithy, a school, a tavern, and court-house. The inhabitants seldom numbered more than three or four hundred. It may not be strictly proper to speak of a people to whose midst the schoolmaster and the judge pene- trated, as beyond the bounds of civilization, and, of course, the expression is used in a comparative sense. The backwoods dominie was hardly worth consider- ing as an educational factor. He was generally

10

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

Ignorant, frequently intemperate, and sometimes immoral. The law lost much of its wonted majesty in a community where an unpopular judge was liable to be mobbed and a dishonest sheriff to be lynched.

The fact is that these people were entirely differ- ent from the colonists of the coast — different in origin, in religion, in manners, and customs. With splendid natural qualities, such as made them pecu- liarly fitted to act as the pioneers of the nation, they were rude, unlettered, and impatient of restraint. In the upbuilding of the infant nation, these path- finders formed the muscle and sinew, whilst the older communities supplied the brain. Although both classes were essentially Americans, in the Revo- lutionary period they had hardly anything in com- .mon but their patriotism.

The inhabitants of the backwoods towns were in general the less bold spirits. Deeper in the forest wilderness were found more daring souls, scattered along the mountain border that divided the colonies from the Indian territory. They lived face to face and in constant touch with the fierce savages, and acted as a buffer to their countrymen behind them.

The term " backwoods " conflicts somewhat with

IX

DANIEL BOONE

a proper sense of the actual situation. From the time that they turned their backs on the mother country, our people faced steadily towards the west, and maintained a forward march in that direction until they reached the distant shores of the continent. A marked peculiarity of the class we have under consideration is that when they arrived in the coun- try, they pushed through the ranks of the colonists and, assuming the vanguard, continued at the head of the advance, first taking possession of Kentucky and Tennessee, then settling Mississippi and Mis- souri, and ultimately marching across the continent to the Pacific. Son followed father, and continued on when the latter lay in the peace of the grave. Two children of Boone were among the first Ameri- cans to make homes beyond the " Father of Waters " ; a grandson was the first settler in Kan- sas; another among the earliest in Colorado; and a third — the famous Kit Carson — acted as scout and guide to the expedition of General Fremont.

Many backwoods families devoted themselves, through several generations, to the winning of the wilderness with rifle and axe. The debt of the nation to these people is a heavy one. They may be compared to the outposts of an encamped army,

12

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

the border settlers being the sentries, stretching along the enemy's face, and the backwoods towns the pickets. As an army sleeps in security behind its outposts, so was the main body of the colonists, screened from the Indians by the backwoods settlers, enabled to build up towns and cultivate its planta- tions in safety. And as, when an army resumes the march, the outpost of the night before forms the advance guard, so these border sentinels were ever in the front of our territorial progress.

In 1783 the western boundary of the United States had been carried forward to the Mississippi River. The large area between it and the Alle- ghanies had been won for us by the dauntless back- woodsmen after a decade of intense struggle. By holding the border Indians in check they performed a valuable service to the colonies in their fight for freedom. The settlement of Kentucky made pos- sible the capture of the British posts in the Illinois and Indiana regions, and paved the way for the acquisition of our Western territory.

Whilst working out the destiny of a nation, the simple-minded backwoodsmen were quite uncon- scious of any such high purpose. They pushed forward into the wilderness because land was to be

13

DANIEL BOONE

had there for practically nothing. They desired to make homes for their children, and were willing to risk their lives in the venture. As to the hard- ships, they and their fathers had been accustomed to arduous poverty in the old country. The life of the hunter, which was an inseparable part of backwoods existence, appealed to them as it does to all healthy men. In fact, the majority of them grew to love their hard lot, with its constant adven- ture. Many, like Boone, became so enamoured of the life, despite its dangers and hardships, that they shunned the approach of civilization and moved farther into the forest whenever the region they had opened up began to be at all thickly populated. The backwoodsman was at once hunter, fighter, and farmer. He could not look for aid or protec- tion from the Government. He had to depend upon his own resources and, even in the acquisition of new territory, upon his own strong right arm. This was particularly the case with the pioneer settlers of Kentucky, for the movement took place when all the men and material available were needed to strengthen the Continental forces, and the back- woodsmen battling with the Indian allies of the British had difficulty in getting sufficient powder

14

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

and lead to carry on the conflict. Every man and youth was a home-made soldier. Most of the women could handle a rifle, and the annals of the frontier teem with stories of brave mothers and daughters who, in the absence of their men- folk, successfully defended their cabins against the attacks of savages. In the frequent sieges of the forts the women loaded the weapons, moulded bullets, and sometimes stood to a port-hole. It is significant of the life of the backwoodsmen that every male among them who was old enough to carry fire-arms was spoken of as a " gun."

For the most part, the people of the backwoods were of Scotch or Irish descent, with a strong sprinkling of English and Germans, but in the sec- ond generation differences of nationality were rarely detectable. Their characters and even their physi- cal traits were greatly affected by the peculiar con- ditions of their lives, which created a type the mem- bers of which were all much alike, whilst they dif- fered widely from the colonists in general. Their isolation tended to develop some of the best human qualities. It taught them independence and self- reliance and at the same time prompted them to help one another. On the border men practiced the

15

I

DANIEL BOONE

golden rule and maintained a homely code of mo* rality and justice. They were hard, rough and self- contained, but neither ungenerous, cruel, nor morose.

In their dealings with hostile Indians the back- woodsmen may appear to have exercised merciless severity, but that is hardly to be wondered at when the provocation is considered. The wanton barbar- ity of their enemies hardened them and goaded them to revenge. This sometimes took the form of de- plorable cruelty but, as a rule, the backwoodsmen were neither inhuman nor bloodthirsty. They fought in defence of their homes and property, and when they carried the conflict into the Indian's coun- try it was usually in retaliation for an attack and with a view to checking further hostilities. The settler was always glad to live in peace if he might.

As to the respective rights of the white men and their red foes, a great deal has been said on both sides, and perhaps it would be impossible to exactly weigh the equities in the case. It was, however, inevitable that a growing and energetic race should have contested the possession of the soil with the mere handful of savages that did not occupy it but merely roamed over it, hunting and camping here

i6

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

and there and keeping up a perpetual warfare among themselves. They set up claims, it is true, to the exclusive possession of certain large areas but, even among themselves, such claims were only sustained by superior strength, and one tribe frequently ousted another from its accustomed territory.

The most ardent defenders of the Indians must find it difficult to establish a case of trespass against the settlers of Kentucky. The territory that is now comprised within that State was ceded by the Indians in more than one treaty and purchased for a definite sum. Moreover, it had not been the home or coun- try of any particular tribe, but was held as a hunting- ground common to all and in which none were allowed to settle. It contained no permanent Indian villages, nor was an acre of its soil cultivated until the white man cleared the land.

The pioneers of the wilderness made their settle- ments in groups of five or six families. The first thing they did was to erect their cabins and form a fort. This was usually accomplished by raising the former in a row and making their backs one side of a palisaded enclosure, with blockhouses at the cor- ners. This was the refuge of all during an attack by the Indians, but otherwise each family lived in

2 17

DANIEL BOONE

a cabin upon its farm. The clearings were gener- ally four hundred acres in extent and lay at some distance from each other in the heart of the forest. The trees having been felled, the settler left the stumps standing, rolled the trunks to one side and burned the branches on the spot. He then planted his fields with maize or other cereals. Some stock was raised and a few sheep, but only in sufficient numbers to supply local needs. Corn, or maize, was the principal reliance of the frontier farmer. His wife made a coarse flour and hominy from it, and a bag of the parched grains served him for food on his hunting expeditions.

The backwoods cabin was commonly a one- roomed structure of unhewn logs, chinked with clay and moss. After a while, when the owner became fairly settled and had his fields in good order, this would give place to a larger building, containing perhaps as many as three rooms and an attic reached by a ladder. A huge stone fireplace occupied one end of the cabin, and the door was always furnished with heavy bolts. The logs were hewn, at least on the inside, and the roof covered with clapboards. There was little furniture and few utensils in such a place. The table was a board

i8

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

set on trestles, and three-legged stools served to sit upon. The beds were rough wooden contrivances covered with skins. The dishes and platters were often of wood and the spoons and forks of pewter, the hunting-knife serving admirably to cut the meat. The family depended very largely upon its head to furnish the larder with venison and bear-steaks.

The dress of the backwoodsman was a distinctive one. He wore a hunting-shirt of buckskin, or homespun, ornamented with a fringe of the same material, or perhaps with porcupine quills. It was a loose tunic, descending nearly to the knees and fastened round the waist with a belt, from which were suspended the tomahawk and hunting-knife. From his shoulders hung by a strap the powder-horn and bullet-pouch, in which he also carried spare flints. On his head he wore a fur cap or a soft felt hat, and his feet were covered with moccasins, after the fashion of the Indians, from whom the dress was in large part borrowed. His legs were encased in leather leggings or trousers.

The backwoodsman's principal weapon was the heavy flint-lock rifle. It was five feet, and some- times slightly more, in length, and although it d^d not carry very far was exceedingly accurate. The

19

DANIEL BOONE

most marvellous feats of marksmanship were per- formed by some of the pioneers with these weapons. Every boy learned to shoot almost as soon as he was strong enough to lift a gun, and his training in woodcraft commenced even earlier, so that it is not surprising that many a youth, such as Kit Carson and Simon Kenton, exhibited the qualities of the expert hunter and Indian fighter before his beard was grown.

There was little money in the backwoods, pelts serving instead. Almost all the needs of the people were supplied by themselves. The women made homespun, in which they clothed the children and themselves. Every man was something of a smith, and most of the rifles were of backwoods manufac- ture. The men tanned the skins and their wives sewed them into foot-gear and garments. Trench- ers and bowls, and even harrows and sleds, were made without much difficulty.

There were, however, a few very necessary articles for which the settlers had to depend upon the outside world. These were salt, iron, powder and lead. In the fall the members of a settlement would make a joint collection of fur-skins and send two or three of their number to some large town,

90

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

such as Baltimore, to get what was needed. Thus, a train of several peltry-laden horses would make the long, slow journey over a distance which we may cover in these days in two or three hours.

Daniel Boone was a typical backwoodsman. Born in a frontier settlement, he passed his long and ad- venturous life in sparsely-peopled regions and died in a pioneer community beyond the Mississippi. Boone's father, a native of England, after living in different parts of Pennsylvania, took up some land on what was then the frontier, in Oley township, about eight miles from the site of the present city of Reading. Here Daniel was born in November, 1734. His early life was that of the ordinary back- woods boy. It embraced no considerable oppor- tunity for scholarship. He learned to read and write but, having little occasion in the course of his active life for the exercise of either accomplishment, his spelling was poor to the day of his death. He helped his mother with the chores and, when old enough, was entrusted with the care of the stock at pasture. His days were spent in the open and he grew to be a lusty lad, well versed in nature and the ways of wild beasts and the less dangerous denizens of the forest. When he had reached the

21

DANIEL BOONE

age of twelve, his father gave him a rifle, with which he soon became a good shot and furnished his mother's kitchen with an ample supply of game. His winters were now spent in hunting, and he often roamed long distances from home in his soli- tary expeditions, returning with skins secured by his trap or gun.

In 1750 Boone's parents with their children mi- grated south and settled on the banks of the upper Yadkin, in the northwestern corner of North Caro- lina. The location was even wilder than that they had left, and their lives were harder and more ad- venturous. Attacks by the Indians were not infre- quent, and a few years later a border war cost many lives in the Yadkin Valley. Here Daniel, following the custom of young backwoodsmen, married as soon as he had arrived at manhood and set up house- keeping in a log cabin.

Ten years were passed after the usual manner of backwoods existence, in hunting, farming, and fighting Indians. But Boone's hunting expeditions sometimes partook of the character of explorations. He went far beyond the frontier in various direc- tions, and on two or three occasions crossed the mountains into Kentucky. The beauty and rich-

23

\

THE AMERICAN BACKWOODSMAN

ness of the country and the abundance of game filled him with an irresistible desire to make his home there. In the fall of 1773 Boone sold his farm on the Yadkin and set out at the head of a company, consisting of his own family and several others that he had induced to accompany them, to make new homes in the lovely valleys of Kentucky. It is at this point that we take up his story.

r

II.

HARDY GOODFELLOW

EOONE LEADS A COMPANY TOAVARD THE PROMISED LAND OF

Kentucky — They are attacked by Indians in Powell's Valley — Six of the party are slain and among them Boone's eldest son — The sorrow of a strong man and his sense of duty — The dead are buried and the march resumed — Boone's lonely watch over the sleeping settlers — His encounter with Hardy Goodfellow in

THE gray dawn — " NoW THAT FATHER'S DEAD, I'm ALL

ALONE " — Hardy finds a new father and Boone another SON — Man and boy make a strange compact — " Maybe THE Lord meant it that way — who knows ? "

" Isn't it about time to make camp, Captain? " " Pretty near that, but I don't exactly fancy campin' right on a trace. I reckon we'll push on a bit and see if we can't find a likelier location."

The first speaker was not a backwoodsman but a Charlestown surveyor. The day's march had wearied him to the point of exhaustion, and he felt faint for lack of a good meal, for the frontiersman ate plenteously but once in the twenty-four hours and that at the close of the day. He turned to his

24

HARDY GOODFELLOW

pipe for solace, first offering his plug of strong tobacco to his companion.

"Have a fill, Captain?"

"Thanks; I don't use it."

" You don't smoke. Captain ? " said the other, in astonishment.

" No ; I never learned and I don't see that it would have done me any particular good if I had. It seems to take pretty hard hold on a man. I've seen hunters well nigh crazy when their tobacco run out, and I shouldn't like to be that way myself. Then it's apt to make trouble in other ways. A deer could scent your pipe half a mile away, and an Injun's nose is near as keen."

" You don't think there are any Indians here- abouts, do you ? " asked the surveyor, with some show of apprehension.

" I wouldn't like to say one way or the other. There might be a hundred in there " — he jerked his head in the direction of the dense undergrowth — " and we not know it till they showed themselves. You see, a redskin's like a copperhead — you don't know where he is till he strikes."

The men who thus conversed were following a forest trail, or " trace," as it was called at the time,

25

DANIEL BOONE

in Powell's Valley, which lay near the point where the States of Virginia, Kentucky, and Tennessee meet. On either side stretched forest so dense that the sun never penetrated the canopy of leaves. Even at midday a gloom prevailed, and now, as evening approached, it was impossible for any but the keenest eyes to see farther than a few yards in the growing dusk. The undergrowth was so thick as to be impenetrable at most points without the aid of the axe. Only a practiced woodsman dare enter that tangle of shrubs and vines. Had Mr. Sproul, the surveyor, ventured a hundred yards from the trail, he could only have found it again by accident and would in all probability have died of hunger, unless, indeed, his sufferings had been cut short by wild beasts or Indians.

It was precisely in this manner that Stuart, Boone's companion in his first expedition to Ken- tucky, lost his life. He wandered from their camp and, failing to find his way back, probably died of starvation after his ammunition became exhausted. Years afterwards his skeleton was found in a hol- low sycamore and identified by the powder-horn which bore his initials.

Of the two men we have under notice, one would 26

HARDY GOODFELLOW

have attracted immediate attention in any company, or under any conditions. He was verging upon his fortieth year and in the prime of life. Five feet ten inches in height, his erect carriage gave him an appearance of greater stature. His body, encased in the deerskin dress of the backwoodsman, was splendidly formed, the extraordinarily broad and deep chest giving evidence of great strength. A sculptor might have taken the head, with its noble brow and fine features, for a model. The long hair was plaited and rolled into a knot. The clear, keen, blue eye had a mild expression, but force was writ- ten in the large, aquiline nose and the square chin, while the thin, compressed lips denoted resolution. It was a face on which courage and composure were strongly stamped. As he swung along with easy stride, his rifle over his shoulder, the movement of the sinewy limbs betrayed strength and agility.

It did not appear to the surveyor that his compan- ion was particularly mindful of his surroundings but, as a matter of fact, nothing escaped the ever- watchful eyes of Daniel Boone. To him a twig, a leaf, a stone, the bark of a tree, or the lightest im- pression on the earth, told a story that none but a master of woodcraft might read. Throughout the

37

L

DANIEL BOONE

day his piercing glance had fallen on this side and on that, taking in every detail as he passed along the trail. This caution was habitual with the back- woodsman, but on the present occasion Boone's vigi- lance was, if possible, keener than usual because he was responsible for the safety of a large company which included many women and children. Behind the leader came a train of settlers bound for the promised land beyond the mountains.

The band, which had left their homes at Boone's persuasion, numbered about forty men and the women and children of five families including his own. The majority were old neighbors from the Yadkin Valley who had been fired by the glowing accounts of Boone and other hunters who had pene- trated to the wonderful country that was the favor- ite hunting-ground of the Indians. The settlers had crossed the Blue Ridge and some lesser ranges and were approaching the Cumberland Gap, which was the gateway to the region they sought. The hard- ships of a backwoods migration were nothing to them, but they were a little apprehensive about push- ing so far into the interior and going hundreds of miles from the nearest settlement. Such a thing had never been done, and probably would not have

28

HARDY GOODFELLOW

been attempted except under the guidance of Boone, who was already an acknowledged leader on the frontier and one in whom all placed the utmost reliance.

It was now the 6th of October and the party had left the Yadkin district on the 25th of the preceding month. Their progress was necessarily slow, owing to the nature of the country they had to traverse and the character of the cavalcade. The narrow and rough trail forbade their using wagons as did the later pioneers in crossing the prairie regions. A string of pack-horses, tied head to tail, carried their bedding, clothing, and other belongings. Aside from corn, maple-sugar, and salt, they did not need to burden the animals with provisions, for the men could always be depended upon to supply the even- ing camp-kitchen with an abundance of meat. Wild turkeys were numerous, and at this time of the year fat and lazy. Pigeons, quail, and other game birds abounded in the forest, and an occasional deer or bear was to be had.

Here and there in the line a woman rode, holding a child before her, but for the most part the back- woods women tramped along with the men. Some mothers placed their infants in baskets, Indian fash-

29

DANIEL BOONE

ion, and hung them to the sides of the ponies. Others carried them slung to their backs or strad- dled across their hips. Early in life the little ones became accustomed to tramping and a boy or girl of ten years, born in the wilderness, made small matter of a ten or twelve miles journey on foot.

At night they encamped near some spring or creek. Meat was broiled over the flames of the fire, and bread baked in the ashes. Each family or group of men made its fire in front of the shelter for the night, so that they might lie with their feet to it. A low structure, open in front and sloping towards the back, was readily raised by means of poles covered with skins. A comfortable bed was made of dry leaves or grass, with a blanket or pelt for covering. With such accommodations, these hardy, simple people deemed themselves well pro- vided for, and without doubt they enjoyed better health than would have been their lot under the softer conditions of city life.

Boone and Mr. Sproul — whom it is needless to describe, for he does not figure any further in our story — were pacing the path in silence when several shots fired in rapid succession rang out. The sur- ve^'or dropped his pipe and stood paralyzed with

30

HARDY GOODFELLOW

alarm. At the first sound the hunter had wheeled about, and before the last report, which his trained ear told him was half a mile at least in the rear, had died away, he was speeding past the string of pack-animals with his rifle in readiness. In passing he called on five men to follow him and ordered the remainder to guard the women and children.

It was evident that the attack — for the character of the firing clearly indicated an attack — had been upon the party set to guard and drive the cattle, which often lagged a long way behind. Boone re- membered, with a sudden pang, that his young son was one of the cattle escort that day, and the thought spurred him onward. Presently a savage whoop of triumph broke upon his ears and the next instant he was upon the scene.

The animals had plunged into the thicket and scattered. Six figures lay upon the earth, still in death. Five Indians, each exultantly brandishing a bleeding scalp, were in the act of diving into the neighboring undergrowth. A sixth bent over one of the prostrate forms, with his fingers entwined in the hair and knife raised to make the circular sweep in the crown of the head. Boone's rifle went up, and had hardly touched his shoulder before it

31

DANIEL BOONE

spoke. The Indian dropped, shot through the brain.

The father had the poor consolation of having saved his boy*s body from mutilation. That to a backwoodsman was a source of satisfaction, but it did not go far towards mitigating Boone's present grief. He stood for some minutes, leaning upon his rifle and looking down at the face of his dead boy. The convulsive twitching of his features told of the inward commotion. But there was urgent duty at hand and Boone sternly put his grief behind him and turned to it. \Vhen he lifted his head, his companions saw that the features, though drawn, were calm and the eyes keen and alert as ever.

Reloading his rifle, Boone stepped into the forest at the point where the Indians had disappeared. In ten minutes' time he rejoined the anxiously waiting men.

" Only seven," he said. " No likelihood of an- other attack. McCurdy, you go and fetch back five men — and don't tell them what's happened as yet."

With the reinforcement, the party set to work digging a broad and shallow grave, in which they laid their dead without further preparation or cere- mony. It was but an incident of backwoods life

32

HARDY GOODPELLOW

and the men who performed the service to-day might be in need of it to-morrow. Having marked the grave with stones and blazed some neighboring trees, they rejoined the main body, which resumed the march, leaving the cattle to be sought for the next day.

A little farther on, the party came upon a favor- able spot and went into camp for the night. As soon as Boone had made the shelter for his family and built a fire, he devoted himself to comforting his stricken wife. But even this task could not be pursued uninterruptedly. The camp needed guard- ing with special vigilance. It is true that Boone believed the attack of the afternoon to have been made by a small party of wandering Indians who killed the settlers for the mere sake of securing their scalps. On the other hand, they might have been a scouting party sent out by a large band. Although Boone was as fearless as any man that ever lived, he was never imprudent, much less reckless. In the course of their conversation Mr. Sproul had said something about "trusting to Providence.** The hunter had replied that he didn't " believe in trust- ing to Providence until you have done all you can 3 33

DANIEL BOONE

for yourself. After that, Providence is much more likely to lend a willing hand."

As soon, therefore, as the other settlers had com- posed themselves to rest, Boone went out and seated himself upon a fallen tree, prepared to spend the night in watchfulness. His ears were alive to the slightest sound and he could instantly detect the origin of each. Now and again the stillness of the forest would be broken by the howl of a wolf, or the hoot of an owl. At such times the hunter would raise his head and listen intently, for the Indians imitated the cries of birds and animals in signalling to one another. Boone was himself a very good hand at that form of reproduction and was seldom deceived by the performance of another.

Boone^s vigil had extended to the gray dawn when his attention was attracted by a dim figure moving on the farther side of the camp. He thought that it was probably one of the settlers suffering from indigestion or, perhaps, walking in his sleep. How- ever, prudence demanded that he should stalk the figure, and he accordingly slipped noiselessly round the back of the shelters in his moccasined feet. The manoeuvre brought him suddenly within sight of the person at a few feet distance. The light was just

34

HARDY GOODFELLOW

strong enough to enable him to discern the form of a youth who was struggling to suppress the sobs that convulsed his frame at intervals.

Boone took the boy by the arm and gently led him to the fallen tree by his own camp fire.

" Sit down," he said. " Now, what's the trouble,

young man? " He spoke in a low, soft voice that

told the lad that he had fallen in with a friend.

" Take your time," continued the hunter, soothingly ;

" I know it hurts, whatever it is. and youVe taking .,., , „ (ic3. SCHOOLS

It like a man, anyhow. /'^^ ^, ''.^Q^j |

He placed an arm across the ifcy s shoulders and the youngster felt the touch strengthen and calm him as had not all the comforting words of the sympathetic settlers' wives. After a while he con- trolled himself sufficiently to speak.

" My father was killed yesterday," said the lad, at last, " and — and I didn't see him."

" Too bad, too bad," said Boone, drawing the boy closer to his side. " I wouldn't worry about not seeing him, though. I saw him — I buried him, and he looked peaceful and I don't doubt is happier than you or me at this moment. Where's your mother, young man ? "

" Mother died long ago, before we left England." 35

DANIEL BOONE

" You don't mean that youVe all alone? "

" Yes, now that father's dead, I'm all alone.'*

The thought of his utter loneliness overcame the lad, and for a few minutes he was again shaken with grief. Boone waited silently until the boy had somewhat recovered himself. Then he asked :

" What's your name? "

" Hardy Goodfellow, sir."

" I like that name," said the hunter. " Hardy Goodfellow sounds like it ought to fit a backwoods- man. What are you going to do. Hardy?" The hunter did not wait for an answer to his question but went on : " We can't leave you here and there's no way of sending you back, at present. Do you want to go on to Kentucky, Hardy?"

"Yes, I'd rather go on," replied the lad. "I think father would want me to, if he knew."

" Why do you think he would ? "

" Well, I've often heard him say he hated to see a man turn back when he'd once started to do any- thing— but, of course, I'm not a man."

" I'm not so sure of that. Hardy. You don't need to have a certain number of years nor a certain num- ber of feet to be a man, leastways not in the back- woods. It's more a matter of the heart and head,

HARDY GOODFELLOW

Hardy, and I think you've got as much pluck and sense as many of your elders."

After this speech the hunter lapsed into silent thought and so sat for ten or fifteen minutes. When he turned again to his young companion it was with an air of satisfied decision.

" Hardy, the same Injuns that killed your father killed my son. The eldest he was — the other's only a baby. Now, if you're willin', I'll try to take the place of your father and you shall take the place of our Jim. What do you say ? "

The boy strove to speak but his emotions choked him. He looked up at Boone and the hunter could see gratitude and joy written on his face.

" Shake on it — that's enough," said Boone, ex- tending his hand. " That's settled, then, and I don't think either of us will ever be sorry for the bargain. My woman will make you a good mother and I'll go bail you'll make her a good son. Now crawl into your new home, Hardy, and get an hour's sleep. I'll stretch my legs a bit."

It may seem strange that Boone should on such short acquaintance have taken a boy into his family on the footing of a son. However, Boone's judg- ment of human character amounted to almost unerr-

Z7

DANIEL BOONE

ing intuition and he felt strongly drawn towards Hardy, largely perhaps on account of his recent bereavement. Moreover, he was not devoid of the backwoods trait of superstition, as was evidenced by his muttered remark as he turned on his heel after seeing the boy enter the shelter : " Maybe the Lord meant it that way — who knows ? "

III.

THE YOUNG HUNTER

The emigrants show the white feather — They retrace their steps to north carolina — boone refuses to turn

HIS BACK UPON KENTUCKY AND HaRDY PROVES STAUNCH —

" Didn't we make a bargain ? " — ^The new home in the CABIN on the Clinch — Hardy enters upon his back- woods education — Boone finds him an apt and willing PUPIL — The hunting expeditions in the glorious Indian summer — Hardy soon learns to shoot straight and to

STALK A deer — HaRDY HAS A LESSON IN TRACKING A MAN — " I LAID FLAT, THINKING YOU MIGHT FIRE " — WiNTER TRAP- PING AND CAMPING — ThE INDIANS INVADE THE SETTLE- MENTS— Hardy serves in Dunmore's War.

When the first rays of the rising sun called the settlers from their rude couches, Boone appeared in camp, after a bath in the branch, as fresh and alert as though he had enjoyed a long rest like the others. The night before he had instructed them not to strike their shelters in the morning, for he designed to remain in the camp until the next day and devote the interval to searching for the strayed cattle.

39

DANIEL BOONE

These were a very valuable property. Their milk was needed for the young children, and they were intended to form the nucleus of the stock in the new settlement. A party was sent out to search the thickets, but Boone was doomed to meet with a great disappointment before the close of the day and to have his cherished plans entirely upset.

At about noon the heads of the families among the emigrants came to the leader and expressed their determination to return. The attack of the day before had convinced them that the Indians would oppose their farther progress, and they deemed it suicidal to venture into an unknown region, far beyond the limits of settlement. Many of the other men were married and had joined the expedition with a view