Part 7 (1/2)
Our fugitives traveled mostly by night, guided by the stars. After pa.s.sing through a series of wonderful adventures, which we have not s.p.a.ce here to record, on the thirty-third day of their escape, they reached the settlement at the Falls of the Ohio, now Louisville. During the rest of the war, Kenton was a very active partisan. He died in the year 1836, over eighty years of age, having been for more than a quarter of a century an honored member of the Methodist Church.
CHAPTER VII.
_Life in the Wilderness._
Stewart killed by the Indians.--Squire Boone returns to the Settlements.--Solitary Life of Daniel Boone.--Return of Squire Boone.--Extended and Romantic Explorations.--Charms and Perils of the Wilderness.--The Emigrant Party.--The Fatal Ambuscade.--Retreat of the Emigrants.--Solitude of the Wilderness.--Expedition of Lewis and Clarke.--Extraordinary Adventures of Cotter.
There were now four hungry men to occupy the little camp of our bold adventurers. They do not seem to have been conscious of enduring any hards.h.i.+ps. The winter was mild. Their snug tent furnished perfect protection from wind and rain. With abundant fuel, their camp-fire ever blazed brightly. Still it was necessary for them to be diligent in hunting, to supply themselves with their daily food. Bread, eggs, milk, b.u.t.ter, sugar, and even salt, were articles of which they were entirely dest.i.tute.
One day, not long after the arrival of Squire Boone, Daniel Boone, with his companion Stewart, was a long distance from the camp, hunting.
Suddenly the terrible war-whoop of the Indians resounded from a thicket, and a shower of arrows fell around them. Stewart, pierced by one of these deadly missiles, fell mortally wounded. A st.u.r.dy savage sprang from the ambuscade upon his victim, and with a yell buried a tomahawk in his brain. Then, grasping with one hand the hair on the top of his head, he made a rapid circular cut with his gleaming knife, and tore off the scalp, leaving the skull bare. The revolting deed was done quicker than it can be described. Shaking the b.l.o.o.d.y trophy in his hand, he gave a whoop of exultation which echoed far and wide through the solitudes of the forest.
Boone, swift of foot as the antelope, escaped and reached the camp with the sad tidings of the death of his companion, and of the presence, in their immediate vicinity, of hostile Indians. This so affrighted the North Carolinian who had come with Squire Boone, that he resolved upon an immediate return to the Yadkin. He set out alone, and doubtless perished by the way, as he was never heard of again. A skeleton, subsequently found in the wilderness, was supposed to be the remains of the unfortunate hunter. He probably perished through exhaustion, or by the arrow or tomahawk of the savage.
The two brothers, Daniel and Squire, were now left entirely alone.
They selected a favorable spot in a wild ravine where they would be the least likely to be discovered by hunting bands, and built for themselves a snug and comfortable log-house, in which they would be more effectually sheltered from the storms and cold of winter, and into which they moved from their open camp. Here they remained, two loving brothers of congenial tastes, during the months of January, February, March and April. Solitary as their life must have been probably, every hour brought busy employment. Each day's food was to be obtained by the rifle. Wood was to be procured for their fire. All their clothing, from the cap to the moccasin, was to be fas.h.i.+oned by their own hands from the skin of the deer, which they had carefully tanned into pliancy and softness; and there were to be added to their cabin many conveniences which required much ingenuity with knife and hatchet for their only tools, and with neither nail nor screw for their construction. In addition to this they were under the necessity of being ever on the alert to discover indications of the approach of the Indians.
The winter pa.s.sed away, not only undisturbed, but evidently very happily. It is remarkable that their retreat was not discovered by any of the Indian bands, who in pursuit of game were constantly roving over those rich hunting grounds.
As summer's warmth returned, Squire Boone decided to retrace his steps to the Yadkin, to carry to his brother's family news of his safety, and to obtain much needed supplies of powder and of lead. There is no satisfactory explanation of the motives which could have induced Daniel, after the absence of a year from his home, to remain alone in that solitary cabin. In his autobiography he has a.s.signed no reason for the extraordinary decision. One of the most judicious of his biographers makes the following statement which by no means solves the mystery:
”When the spring came it was time for another movement. The spring came early, and the awaking to its foliage seemed like the pa.s.sing from night to the day. The game had reduced their powder and lead, and without these there was no existence to the white man. Again Daniel Boone rises to the emergency. It was necessary that the settlement which they had made should be continued and protected, and it was the duty in the progress of events that one of them should remain to that task. He made the selection and chose himself. He had the courage to remain alone. And while he felt the keenest desire to see his own family, he felt that he had a n.o.ble purpose to serve and was prepared for it.”[C]
[Footnote C: Life of Boone, by W. H. Bogart.]
Daniel Boone, in his quaint autobiography, in the following terms alludes to the departure of his brother and his own solitary mode of life during the three months of his brother's absence:
”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 necessity of exercising philosophy and fort.i.tude. A few days I pa.s.sed uncomfortably. The idea of a beloved wife and family, and their anxiety on account of my absence and exposed situation, made sensible impressions on my heart. A thousand dreadful apprehensions presented themselves to my view, and had undoubtedly exposed me to melancholy if further indulged.
”One day I took a tour through the country, and the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought. Just at the close of the day the gentle gales 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 around with astonis.h.i.+ng delight beheld the ample plain, 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 heads and penetrate the clouds.
”I kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted on the loin of a buck. The fallen shades of night soon overspread the whole hemisphere, and the earth seemed to gape 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 woke not until the sun had chased away the night. I continued this tour, and in a few days explored a considerable part of the country, each day equally pleased as the first. I returned to my old camp which was not disturbed in my absence.
I did not confine my lodging to it, but often reposed in thick cane brakes, to avoid the savages, who I believe often visited it, but, fortunately for me, in my absence.
”In this situation I was constantly exposed to danger and death. How unhappy such a condition 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 dest.i.tute of this afflicting pa.s.sion, with which I had the greatest reason to be affected. The prowling wolves diverted my nocturnal hours with perpetual howlings, and the various species of animals in this vast forest, in the day-time were continually in my view. Thus I was surrounded with plenty in the midst of want. I was happy in the midst of dangers and inconveniences. In such a diversity it was impossible I should be disposed to melancholy. No populous city, with all the varieties of commerce and stately structures, 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 twenty-seventh day of July following, when my brother, to my great felicity, met me, according to appointment, at our old camp.”
Boone was at this time thirty-six years of age. He was about five feet ten inches in height, and of remarkably vigorous and athletic frame. His life in the open air, his perfect temperance, and his freedom from all exciting pa.s.sions, gave him constant health. Squire brought back to his brother the gratifying news that his wife Rebecca was in good health and spirits, and cheerfully acquiesced in whatever decision her husband might make, in reference to his absence. She had full confidence in the soundness of his judgment, and in his conjugal and parental love. The children were all well, and from the farm and the forest the wants of the family were fully supplied.
It appears that Squire Boone had succeeded in bringing one or two horses across the mountains. The abundance of gra.s.s kept them in fine condition. Upon the backs of these horses, the pioneers could traverse the treeless prairies without obstruction, and large portions of the forest were as free from underbrush as the park of an English n.o.bleman.
Invaluable as these animals were to the adventurers, they greatly increased their perils. They could not easily be concealed. Their footprints could not be effaced, and there was nothing the Indians coveted so greatly as a horse.
The two adventurers now set out on horseback for an exploring tour to the south-west. Following a line nearly parallel with the c.u.mberland Range, after traversing a magnificent region of beauty and fertility for about one hundred and fifty miles, they reached the banks of the c.u.mberland river. This majestic stream takes its rise on the western slope of the c.u.mberland mountains. After an exceedingly circuitous route of six hundred miles, running far down into Tennessee, it turns north-westerly again, and empties its waters into the Ohio, about sixty miles above the entrance of that river into the Mississippi.
It was mid-summer. The weather was delightful. The forest free from underbrush, attractive as the most artificial park, and the smooth sweep of the treeless prairie presented before them as enticing a route of travel as the imagination could desire. There were of course hards.h.i.+ps and privations, which would have been regarded as very severe by the dwellers in the sealed houses, but none which disturbed in the slightest degree the equanimity of these hardy adventurers. They journeyed very leisurely; seven months being occupied in the tour. Probably only a few miles were accomplished each day. With soft saddles made of the skin of buffalo, with their horses never urged beyond a walk, with bright skies above them, and vistas of beauty ever opening before them, and luxuriance, bloom and fragrance spread everywhere around, their journey seemed replete with enjoyment of the purest kind.
Though it was necessary to practice the extreme of caution, to avoid capture by the Indians, our adventurers do not seem to have been annoyed in the slightest degree with any painful fears on that account. Each morning they carefully scanned the horizon, to see if anywhere there could be seen the smoke of the camp-fire curling up from the open prairie or from the forest. Through the day they were ever on the alert, examining the trails which they occasionally pa.s.sed, to see if there were any fresh foot prints, or other indications of the recent presence of their foe. At night, before venturing to kindle their own camp-fire, they looked cautiously in every direction, to see if a gleam from an Indian encampment could anywhere be seen. Thus from the first of August to the ensuing month of March, these two bold men traversed, for many hundred miles, an unknown country, filled with wandering hunting bands of hostile Indians, and yet avoided capture or detection.
If a storm arose, they would rear their cabin in some secluded dell, and basking in the warmth of their camp-fire wait until the returning sun invited them to resume their journey. Or if they came to some of nature's favored haunts, where Eden-like attractions were spread around them, on the borders of the lake, by the banks of the stream, or beneath the brow of the mountain, they would tarry for a few days, reveling in delights, which they both had the taste to appreciate.