It was in such crises that the great scout best displayed the qualities which had made him a marked man among the pioneers. It had been impossible for him to rescue the body of his fallen son. Around him on every side were heard shouts and cries and the continual report of the rifles.
Whatever occurred, Daniel Boone was never long at a loss how to act. Controlling his feelings, he turned to the men who were near him and said quietly, "Come with me!"
As the men obediently followed, the scout, who was familiar with the entire region, instead of running toward the ford as most of the fugitives now were doing, dashed into the ravine where many of the Indians previously had been concealed. Apparently they had now left to join in the wild pursuit of the demoralized settlers.
Boone and his comrades were not to escape, however, without attracting the attention of some of the howling Indians. A half dozen or morediscovered the fleeing settlers and with wild whoops started in swift pursuit.
It was here that Boone's knowledge of the region, as well as his coolness, came to his aid. Leading the way to a place in the ravine where there was a narrow passage between the rocks, he ordered his companions to precede him, while he himself raised his rifle with deliberation and fired at the approaching Indians.
The entire band halted, for their own rifles were not loaded at the time and they were depending upon a similar condition among the whites. The red men were now relying on their tomahawks.
As soon as the band halted, Boone waited a moment to assure himself that his companions were safe, and then, running swiftly, rejoined them. When the fleeing men came to the end of the ravine, once more they found a small band of their foes awaiting them, and with wild cries they started toward them. But the great scout, in spite of the need of haste, had bidden his companions to reload in preparation for this very emergency. After receiving the fire from their guns, the Indians dropped back, while the white men, quickly making use of the advantage thus afforded, were able to escape to the woods beyond.
"We shall now be able to make our way toBryant's Station," said Boone. "There will be no Indians to interfere with us from this time on."
His words proved to be correct, and by the middle of the afternoon the half-dozen men with the great scout arrived safely at the fort.
Throughout the remainder of the day many of the men who had so confidently gone forth in the morning came straggling back to the fort.
Peleg, who had been among those who rushed to the ford, returned to Bryant's Station when it was nearly dusk. He had secured the aid of two others, and the three were carrying young Daniel Boone, who also had been shot in the fight at the Licks.
It was soon discovered that Boone's younger son was not seriously wounded. When the welcome information was received the face of the great scout remained unchanged in its expression, though the deathly pallor, that for a moment had spread over it when he had been informed of what had befallen his boy, disappeared.
"'Tis a wonder," said Peleg, "that any of us are left alive to tell the story. Some of us ran up the stream and swam across. Young Dan was as brave as any man in the crowd. Even after he had been shot in the shoulder he did not give up, but he swam across the stream, keeping up with the rest of us. The men who could not swim werethe ones that were shot down or were made prisoners without being able to do anything to defend themselves."
"Were any shot after you had crossed the river?" inquired Boone.
"I do not know of any," replied Peleg. "But from the ravine clear down to the ford the loss was heavy. One of the bravest deeds I ever saw in my life was that of young Aaron Reynolds—he is the one who made us laugh when Simon Girty mounted the stump and gave us his speech. Reynolds was on horseback, and about halfway between the battle ground and the ford he found Captain Patterson completely worn out. The captain had dropped in his tracks, he was so exhausted, for you see he had been wounded three or four times in the fights we had with the Indians two or three years ago."
"I remember that he was," said Boone.
"The Indians were almost ready to close up on the captain, but just at that moment Reynolds saw what was going on. He jumped from his saddle, helped Captain Patterson to mount, and then turned and ran on foot as fast as he could go. He ran like a deer after he was out of the main road, then jumped into the river right where you said you crossed, and swam to the other side. There he had some serious trouble, though. Hewas wearing a pair of buckskin breeches and they became so heavy and full of water when he was in the river that he could not run very fast when he struck the shore. When he sat down and tried to get rid of a part of the water some of the Indians rushed up and before he knew it he was their prisoner."
"Did you say he is here now?" inquired Boone.
"Yes, sir. I was afraid the Indians would tomahawk him, but they kept to their regular plan of not putting any of their prisoners to death until they get back to their own country, so Reynolds wasn't troubled very much at the time. They left him in charge of three of the braves while the others started for some more of our men who were nearby. The three Indians were so excited when they saw our men that two of them left Reynolds in charge of the third while they ran to join in the chase with the others. Then the Indian that had Reynolds in his charge started for the woods."
"Were they both armed?" asked Boone.
"Reynolds had had his rifle taken away from him, but the Indian had a tomahawk and a rifle in his hands. After they had gone a little way the Indian stooped to tie the string of his moccasin and Aaron instantly jumped upon him, knocked him down with his fist and then ran for the woods.Captain Patterson has just come in and he says he is going to give Aaron two hundred acres of the best land he owns."
Such of the bodies as had been recovered were now being brought to the fort, and the fact that many of the men of Bryant's Station had been made prisoners by the attacking Indians increased the feeling of gloom that settled upon the place. Among the men who had fallen was Colonel Todd, who had sought the advice of the great scout and then did not follow it.
Long before nightfall Colonel Logan and his men arrived at Bryant's Station. In his force were no less than four hundred and fifty men. Upon their arrival they learned from the men who had succeeded in returning to the fort of the fate which had befallen the band which Colonel Todd had led against the Indians.
Waiting to hear no more, greatly alarmed for his friends and suspecting that only a part of the disaster had been reported, Colonel Logan at once led his men over the way by which the defenders of the fort had gone in their untimely pursuit of their wily foe.
Silently the men crossed the ford
With Colonel Logan went Daniel Boone and Peleg, as well as many others of the defenders. The great scout showed plainly the suffering through which he was passing. Two of his boyshad been shot by the relentless Shawnees and his third son had received a severe wound. Apparently Boone did not believe that his sufferings were to be relieved by anything his friends could do to aid him. He had seldom spoken since the men had departed from the Station, but Peleg was confident that he understood the purpose which was urging the gentle-hearted hunter forward.
The second day the advancing soldiers came near to the place where the fight had occurred. Long before they had arrived, however, Peleg had shuddered when he discovered flocks of circling buzzards that were hovering over the battle ground. He glanced into the face of his companion when the discovery had been made, and knew that the scout also understood the meaning of their presence.
When the advancing band approached the bank of the river they discovered many of the bodies still floating near the shore. They were the unfortunate victims that had been shot by the Indians after they had rushed into the stream.
A silence, indescribable, intense, awful, settled over all the men. There were tears in the eyes of some of the hardiest of the settlers at the fearful sight upon which they looked. No man was able to recognize among the putrid bodies the face of his lost friend.
Silently the men crossed the ford and advancedtoward the ravine. In the scene of the recent fight the sight was even more heartbreaking. Here, too, the bodies of the many who had fallen could no longer be distinguished one from another.
Daniel Boone, unmindful of the presence of his comrades, had been searching quietly among the bodies for that of his missing boy. Even the men who were most eager in their search for their friends stopped a moment as they watched the man in his agonizing and fruitless quest.
The great scout soon turned to Colonel Logan and said: "'Tis no use, Colonel. We must give the poor fellows decent burial here and now."
The men at once carried out the bidding which their leader gave. Silently the settlers, for the moment all thoughts of vengeance gone from their minds, dug trenches wherever the soil permitted, and in these the bodies of their dead and mutilated friends were buried.
There were many faces in the band down which the tears were rolling while this task was being accomplished. The manner of the great scout, however, was unchanged. Only the deepening of the lines in his face and his unusual pallor gave indications of the strain through which he was passing. His manner still was silent and self-controlled, as in the days when the joyous things of life had more often been his portion.
When the gruesome task at last was finished, it was Daniel Boone himself who said to Colonel Logan in reply to the latter's inquiries: "It is useless now to try to follow the Shawnees."
"Why do you say that?" inquired the colonel.
"Because by this time they are far beyond our reach. They have lost no time, you may be sure."
"How many captives do you think they have taken with them?"
"Not many," said Boone.
"But there are some sixty-seven of our men missing."
"Yes," assented Boone, "but we have accounted for nearly sixty this day."
"I am told," suggested the colonel, "that they will put every prisoner to death, or so many of them as may be required to make good any loss they themselves have had."
The great scout shook his head as he replied: "The Indians have not lost as many as we."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because the advantage was all with them. They greatly outnumbered us, and in a good part of the fight they were sheltered by the rocks while our men were fighting in the open. It was the bloodiest fight I was ever in."
"And to you one of the saddest," suggested the colonel.
Boone nodded his head but did not speak.
"I cannot understand," continued the colonel, "why it is that you take your own troubles so quietly. You certainly have suffered more than most men on the border, and yet I fancy the man has yet to be born who has heard you complain."
"And why should I complain?" inquired Boone, smiling as he looked into the face of his friend. "It does not make my own griefs less to try to have another share them. That is something no one can do. My heart, at least, must bear its own burden. If any one thinks that his troubles are less than those that come to his friends, he is probably mistaken. My experience has led me to believe that almost every one has about all he can bear. There are only two classes of people, at least as far as I have observed—and I am well aware how little I know in this particular—but as I said—there are only two classes of people that cry and laugh easily."
"Who are they?"
"Children and savages. Neither class has learned to control itself. A strong man shows his strength, at least in my humble judgment," Boone added modestly, "by being able to refrain from useless words, and by not whining over his troubles."
"I think you are correct," said Colonel Logan musingly. "Now, then," he continued after amoment, "is it your judgment that the best thing for us to do is to return to Bryant's Station?"
"It is."
"Then if it is a good thing to do it will be well for us to do it quickly. I shall see that the order is given. We have some stirring days before us because I am sure it will never do to let the Shawnees believe for any length of time that they have been able to defeat the white men."
The judgment of Daniel Boone was accepted by all the men in the band. Indeed there were many now who were blaming others as well as themselves for not having listened to the word of the wise old scout before they had entered into the unequal struggle with the Indians at Blue Licks.
Swiftly and seriously the men retraced their way to Bryant's Station, where they were dismissed by Colonel Logan with the understanding that they would respond if he should call for their help in the near future. This he fully expected to do.
In a rude wagon Daniel Boone and Peleg carried the wounded boy back to his home. The wound itself was not believed to be serious, although naturally after the tragedies which had occurred in his family Daniel Boone was anxious for his son. Daniel Morgan Boone, or "young Dan," as he sometimes was called by the settlers, to distinguish him from his father, made light of his experiences and even declared that he was preparedto ride his horse back to Boonesborough instead of being carried in the jolting wagon. His protest, however, was not heeded, and in a short time the Boonesborough men were back in their settlement.
To all it now was evident that Daniel Boone held a place in the regard of the settlers such as he never before had won. His deep sorrow over the distressing tragedies which had resulted in the loss of two promising sons, and his willingness to do all in his power to aid his friends: these qualities won him sympathy and affection in addition to the respect in which he was held because of his excellent judgment. The simple manner of the great scout, his skill as a hunter, his knowledge of the Indians, and his enduring friendship, were more highly appreciated with every passing day.
Shortly after the return of Boone and his companions, the scout said to Peleg, "I have just received word from Colonel George Rogers Clark from the Falls of the Ohio."
"What does he want?" asked Peleg quickly. The sturdy colonel in control of the forces of the entire region was known to be a man of action, and one whose activities were familiar to all the settlers.
"He sends me word," said Boone quietly, "that he plans to raise a force of one thousand men to go against the Indian towns."
"Why does he do that?"
"He has two reasons: One is that the people are so discouraged and disappointed by the recent successes of the Indians that many are thinking of withdrawing from Kentucky. The other reason is that he thinks the Indians ought not to be permitted to rest upon the victories which they have won, and that the battle of Blue Licks and the fight at Bryant's Station must be avenged, or the Shawnees and the Wyandottes will soon be more active than they have been."
"What do you think?" inquired Peleg.
"It is not for me to say," replied Boone, his rare smile lighting his face for a moment as he spoke.
"But you think what you do not say," persisted Peleg.
"I think Colonel Clark is doing the only thing which will bring help to our stations. Either the Indians or we are to live in this country. It is a pity that we cannot say, the Indiansandwe; but from the feeling they have shown, and the way in which I know many of the whites look upon them, I am afraid such a plan will be impossible. There is then only one thing for us to do."
"What is that?"
"It must be decided once for all whether the country is to be occupied by the white men or by the red. There can be but one answer. However," continued Boone, "I have little time todiscuss these matters with you, now. It is a time for action, and much as you and I may dislike to leave our homes, we cannot lightly regard such a summons as Colonel Clark has sent us."
"What is the plan?"
"He proposes to raise an army of one thousand men, as I said, and march to destroy the Indian villages."
"Where do we meet?"
"At the Falls of the Ohio. I have seen Colonel Logan, and he is to assemble his men and march in one body to the meeting-place. My own judgment is that it would be better for the force to split up into smaller parties, but that is not for me to say. I have, however, arranged with Colonel Logan for you and six other men to go as a band of scouts to the north of the route we are to take, and at the same time have several bands move to the south. I do not believe there will be any danger before we arrive at the meeting-place, but it is well to provide for what may happen before it comes to pass. As you know, that has always been my plan. I do not think I ever had a fight with an Indian that I did not try to think what he would do, or what I would do if I were in his place, before the real contest began."
"Are you to lead the scouts on the south?"
"That is for the King to say," replied Boone,smiling as he quoted the well-known saying of Sam Oliver.
The following morning Peleg, as leader of his little band of scouts, departed for the place of assembly. The advance to the Falls of the Ohio would require three days or more. It was not believed that there would be anything more than occasional attacks on the main body by small bands of Indians, for few braves would dare to oppose the coming of this great army.
In Peleg's little band was Sam Oliver, the hunter. Sam now was plainly showing the effects of the passing years. He was suffering from rheumatism acquired by exposure in the many winters during which he had been known throughout the settlements as a great hunter. His visits to the stations were more frequent than formerly, and he remained longer than in the preceding years. He was still sensitive, however, concerning his physical strength and skill, and refused to listen to any suggestion that he was not in condition to accompany the younger men on their way to the meeting-place of the army.
"Peleg," said Sam Oliver, when the party, all mounted, had set forth on their expedition, "I know a little Indian town about seventy-five miles from here where we can get some horses."
"Is it on our way?"
"It is not far from the river. If we can get a dozen or more horses it will make the heart of Colonel Clark rejoice."
In explanation of the hunter's words, it may be said that stealing horses from the Indians was not looked upon as any crime by the early pioneers. Such a conviction may have been due in part to the fact that the tribes and white settlers were usually in a state of war with one another. The Indians' intense distrust of the early settlers had, as we know, long ago deepened into enduring hatred.
There were few who believed the Indians were governed by any other than treacherous, bloodthirsty motives. So intense had become this belief along the border that it was well-nigh impossible for the men of that time to look upon the simple questions of right and wrong in any way that might favour the red men or even do them simple justice. To them they simply were enemies that must be driven from the region or exterminated.
Late in the following afternoon Sam Oliver, when his friends halted, donned his Indian garb. In his disguise he was scarcely to be distinguished from one of the warriors.
"I have learned the lingo, too," he said laughingly. "A good many times I have gone right into their villages and no one has suspected thatI was a white man. I want to get about fifteen horses," continued Sam, "and I want almost as much to get one of the Indians alive."
"What for?" demanded Peleg in surprise.
It was seldom that prisoners were made of the warriors at that time, because whenever a fight occurred it was usually a struggle to the death. The Indians, however, occasionally, as we know from the experiences of the great scout himself, not only made captives of their prisoners, but at times adopted them into their tribes in place of young braves that had been killed in battle.
"I want one for a pet," laughed Sam Oliver.
"I would sooner have a rattlesnake," declared one of the party.
"That is what I used to say," said Sam, "but then that was years ago when I was young and slender. I know more about them now, and if I can get one alive I am going to make a pet of him."
"You will be making a mistake," declared Schoolmaster Hargrave, who also was one of Peleg's band. It had been long since he had wielded the ferrule or had taught the boys and girls in Boonesborough. In recent years he had been toiling in the fields, as had the great scout and Peleg. He was, however, scarcely more successful in raising tobacco than he had been in training the children in his school. The title of"Schoolmaster" still clung to him, and when Sam Oliver laughed loudly and turned to answer his protest, he said, "Well, Schoolmaster, I can understand how you do not like the Indians. You had some pretty wild experiences yourself, in the schoolhouse. I understand that two or three of the boys disguised themselves the way I have and put you out through the window. Is that true?"
Whether the statement was true or not it was never explained, for the hunter suddenly warned his companions to become silent as they were approaching the village he was seeking.
Advancing with three of his companions and leaving Peleg and the remainder of the party behind to await their return, Sam stealthily began to make his way toward the little Indian village which he said was located only a few yards distant from the spot where a halt had been made.
Sam was absent only two hours. His approach was heard by his waiting companions long before the hunter could be seen. It was plain, too, that he had been successful. The noise of snapping branches and an occasional whinny indicated that Sam was not returning empty-handed.
"Did I not tell you what I would do?" boasted the hunter, when he returned. "I said I wanted a dozen horses. I have six, so that I am only half as happy as I ought to be."
"You are happier now than you soon will be," retorted Peleg, "unless we leave this part of the country right away."
The horses which had been secured were all young and only partly broken. It was impossible for the party to mount them, and there were times when it was difficult even to lead them by the leathern straps which were fastened about their necks.
Sam acknowledged the seriousness of the situation, and no urging was required to make the men push forward rapidly.
When night fell they selected for their camp a spot on the bend of a little stream. Two of the men were assigned positions in the rear of the camp to watch for any pursuing Indians. There was no fear of an attack from the opposite side of the stream.
At midnight the guard was relieved, and as it was Peleg's turn to take the position, he said quietly, "I can do this alone. All the rest of you turn in and get your sleep."
His directions were speedily followed. The night passed without alarm, and the young scout was beginning to think that either the warriors of the village were aware of the plan of Colonel Clark, and had departed to join their own bands, or that they were absent from thevillage at the time, and had not yet learned of Sam's theft.
The first faint streaks of the dawn had appeared, and Peleg, taking a little bucket, stepped to the brook to secure some running water. The fire which had been kept alive throughout the night was burning low. When Peleg returned to the camp he was startled when he discovered by the dim light that the water in his bucket was muddy. There could be but one explanation, and the young scout hastily aroused his companions.
"The brook was not muddy last night, but it is now," said the young leader. "To my mind that shows that we are being followed, and the Indians are coming down the stream to creep close to us."
Just then the schoolmaster was seized with sharp pains and began to groan and writhe in his suffering. No one understood the nature of the attack, and the simple remedies which were used apparently produced no relief. At last the suffering man was covered with a blanket and placed near the ashes of the fire. All the men except Peleg then lay down once more upon the ground. A strenuous day was awaiting them, and whether Master Hargrave was ill or not, they must get their necessary rest. They were inclined to believe, too, after their long wait, that no Indians were near them. The stream might have been muddied byany one of half a dozen other means. Probably a 'coon had been the guilty party.
And yet all unknown to the little body of settlers a band of twelve warriors had been furtively approaching them in the very manner Peleg had suspected. Their noiseless footsteps had even brought them within a few yards of the camp. Only the coming of the morning was required to enable them to attack.
The light of the rising sun had appeared when the crouching Indians together fired upon the silent little camp.
By some strange chance almost all the bullets took effect in the body of the suffering schoolmaster. There was not even a cry from the stricken man, and as the Indians sent forth a wild whoop every one in the camp leaped to his feet and fled from the spot.
There had been no time for plans to be made, and consequently every man fled by himself. They were followed by the shots and the cries of the pursuing Indians, but no one knew what had befallen his comrade.
Peleg, who was fully dressed and better equipped than his friends for flight, with Singing Susan in his hand, suddenly fell as he ran along the border of a swamp which he had not noticed before.
The warriors swept past him, all believing that the young scout had been shot, and that his scalp might be secured when they returned.
Waiting only until the howling band had passedhim, Peleg made his escape. He sped swiftly back in the direction of the camp, hoping to secure one of the stolen horses. When he arrived, however, his disappointment was keen when he found that not one of the horses was still there.
Exerting himself to the utmost, and still gripping Singing Susan, Peleg ran swiftly into the forest in the direction of the meeting-place which Colonel Clark had selected.
Several hours elapsed before the young scout arrived at the rendezvous. Before night fell three of his recent companions also appeared, but Sam Oliver was not of their number, and in fact he was never heard of again.
Daniel Boone was now present, and when he and Peleg were together as darkness fell over the camp Boone said: "I am more hopeful now that we shall soon have peace than I have ever been before."
"Just now," suggested Peleg with a laugh, "I am thinking more of something good to eat than I am of getting into the Indian villages."
"That suggests the one mistake which I fear has been made. In his eagerness, the colonel has assembled his men before he has secured supplies. The result is that almost every man is hungry to-night."
"I think I can endure it if the rest of the men do not complain," said Peleg sturdily. "I havenot been with you through all these years without learning that I must not cry if everything I want does not come to me just when I want it."
"That is well. I do not think we will remain here long. It may be that we shall start within a few hours. All the men are eager to be gone, and there is nothing to be gained by delay. Without sufficient supplies for our horses as well as our men, the sooner we start the better it will be for us all."
"Are all here who are expected?" inquired Peleg.
"There are about one thousand here now, including the regulars."
This conversation was interrupted by the announcement that they would depart at once. There was a sufficient number of horses in the camp to provide one for Peleg and for others who had come on foot.
Just previous to the start the great scout explained to Peleg, "We are not far from one of the largest villages of the Indians. It may be that we shall come to it before morning. That will depend upon the pace at which our men advance."
The morning dawned, and still no sign of the first of the Indian villages had been seen. Not a trace of a warrior had been discovered throughout the night, nor had any been seen when several hours of the new day had passed. Whether or not theIndians had been informed of the approach of their enemies was not known.
Steadily the hungry men pressed forward, their conviction that the time had arrived for them to obtain lasting relief from the attacks of the treacherous Shawnees being even stronger than their feeling of hunger.
Peleg and the great scout were in the front lines, if indeed the advancing body could be said to be moving with any appearance of order. It is true the men kept closely together, but the nature of the ground over which they were moving and the forests through which they passed made any approach to military order well-nigh impossible.
The men near Peleg abruptly halted when not far before them on the opposite shore of a large pond they spied a solitary Indian. The warrior was standing as motionless as the nearby trees as he gazed steadily at his approaching enemies.
Suddenly he turned and fled into the forest, disregarding the calls of the men and even unmindful of the few scattered shots which followed him.
"Who was that?" whispered Peleg to Daniel Boone.
"It was Henry."
"I believe it was," declared Peleg excitedly. "What will he do now?"
"He will give the alarm to the village. We arenot more than a mile from it now, and he will be there long before our horses can carry us over such ground as we have had for the past few miles."
Just at that moment there was a sharp call for an advance. The entire body at once responded, although the hungry horses were in no condition for swift action.
The words of the great scout were fulfilled when the force drew near the Indian village. Not one of its people was to be seen. Fires were still smouldering and even the meat which was being roasted and the corn that was boiling in the kettles had been abandoned in the precipitate flight of the Indians.
The discovery of the food was perhaps more welcome to the hungry men than would have been the sight of their foes. At all events, a halt was made, and such food as could be obtained was speedily allotted.
At the right of the village a large field of corn was seen, and the discovery that the corn was in the ear and ripe for food was good news indeed. It was not long before the hunger of every man was appeased, in a measure at least, and the entire force was ready for the further commands of Colonel Clark.
The village was set on fire in several places, and flames were also kindled in the field. In less than an hour the men departed, leaving behind themonly the smoking embers of what a short time before had been a prosperous village of the red men.
Colonel Clark now urged his men forward with increasing speed. At times the force divided and the task of burning certain villages was assigned to the different bands. At other times the entire force proceeded as one body. But their enemies still had not been seen. Occasionally a solitary Indian would crawl within gunshot when the camp was pitched, discharge his gun, and then instantly flee; and once a small party of warriors, mounted upon superb horses, advanced boldly within gunshot. The red men coolly surveyed the little army, but when a force was sent to attack them they rode away so swiftly that pursuit was useless.
Village after village was burned to the ground, and rich fields of corn were left in ruins. The pioneers were determined to rid themselves once and for all of further possibilities of attacks by the ferocious Shawnees.
The alarm over the advance of Colonel Clark had spread throughout the entire region, and with one accord the red men had abandoned their homes and fled into the wilderness beyond.
When the attacking forces at last disbanded and the men returned to their homes, Daniel Boone and Peleg Barnes went back with their friends into Kentucky. The warfare with the Indians was ended.The Kentucky homes were now free from the attacks of the Shawnees or Cherokees.
Peleg was no longer a boy. The years that had passed during these pioneer days had made of him a man. He now had his own home and a tract of land adjoining that of his great friend, Daniel Boone.
Not a word was heard concerning Henry. There were occasional vague reports of the presence of a white man among the Shawnees, but whether or not this referred to "the white Shawnee" was never known.
As for Daniel Boone, it seemed as if the days of his peril were ended. The region which he had opened up for the incoming people had now become well settled. The sound of the axe was heard more frequently than the rifle. Prosperity smiled upon the efforts of the sturdy settlers, and the steadily advancing civilization and the spread of education wrought wonders among the people.
In the diary of Daniel Boone there occurs the following:
"Two darling sons and a brother I have lost by savage hands which have also taken from me 40 valuable horses and abundance of cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have I spent, separated from the cheerful society of man, scorched by the summer's sun, and pinched by the winter's cold, an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness."
"Two darling sons and a brother I have lost by savage hands which have also taken from me 40 valuable horses and abundance of cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have I spent, separated from the cheerful society of man, scorched by the summer's sun, and pinched by the winter's cold, an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness."
Another writer has left the following:
"He (Boone) has left behind him a name strongly written in the annals of Kentucky, and a reputation for calm courage softened by humanity, conducted by prudence, and embellished by a singular modesty of deportment. His person was rough, robust, and indicating strength rather than activity; his manner was cold, grave, and taciturn; his countenance homely but kind; his conversation unadorned, unobtrusive, and touching only upon the needful. He never spoke of himself unless particularly questioned."
"He (Boone) has left behind him a name strongly written in the annals of Kentucky, and a reputation for calm courage softened by humanity, conducted by prudence, and embellished by a singular modesty of deportment. His person was rough, robust, and indicating strength rather than activity; his manner was cold, grave, and taciturn; his countenance homely but kind; his conversation unadorned, unobtrusive, and touching only upon the needful. He never spoke of himself unless particularly questioned."
As the years passed he showed more and more the spirit which has been described by one of his admirers in the following words:
"There never beat in man a kindlier or more philanthropic heart. While he was a stranger to selfish and sordid impressions he was alike above mean actions; and he lived and toiled for others, amid hardships and sufferings that would have crushed thousands of hearts."
"There never beat in man a kindlier or more philanthropic heart. While he was a stranger to selfish and sordid impressions he was alike above mean actions; and he lived and toiled for others, amid hardships and sufferings that would have crushed thousands of hearts."
The simple-hearted scout, shrewd in his dealing with the Indians, was honest and straightforward with the men of his own race, and looked for similar treatment from them. One can therefore imagine his surprise and indignation when he was informed that he had no legal right to an acre of the land which he had discovered, and into which he had led many families that already were sharing in the steadily increasing prosperity. The clearing he had made, the acres he had cultivated, hewas informed, were not his property now, but belonged to a manwho had signed certain papers!
Boone intensely loved Kentucky. Its rocks and trees, its rivers, its forests, its very soil, were dear to his heart. In Kentucky he had experienced his deepest sorrows and many of his highest joys. Perplexed as well as disheartened, the great scout departed from the settlement which in a large measure was his own work. He was homeless in a land in which he had helped so many to secure homes for themselves.
Deep as was Boone's sorrow, he was, as we know, a man whose feeling did not find expression in useless words. Quietly he returned to the banks of the Delaware where he had been born, and then went on to Virginia. On the borders of the great Kanawha he dwelt for five years in the woods with his dogs and gun.
Meanwhile his son and a brother had gone out into the remote and almost unknown land beyond the Mississippi River. Their reports and appeals were so strong, that at last, when the great scout was sixty years of age, once more accompanied by his faithful wife, he journeyed away from civilization and went to join his sons in the faraway wilderness.
The name of the great scout was so well-known and his character was so much admired that the Spanish Governor at once made him a present ofeighty-five hundred acres of land in what is now the State of Missouri.
Here the great scout in a measure renewed the experiences of his early life. By working steadily and saving the money which he received from his crops and his furs he acquired a considerable sum. He then returned to Kentucky and looked up every man to whom he owed any money through the loss that had come to him by his inability to retain his land in the region he had loved. It was not long, however, before "he went back to Missouri, his heart lighter and also his pocketbook."
When the scout was seventy-five years of age, he still was a great hunter. Friendly with the Indians in the region, he paddled in his light canoe over the creeks and the little streams in the new territory, and it is said that even along the banks of the great Missouri River he set many of his traps for the beaver.
As long as the Spanish and French were in control of the Missouri country, Boone continued to hold his land safely; but when Napoleon sold the vast territory to the United States Boone once more suffered a heavy loss, for his own government refused to recognize his claim to any part of the region. It seemed almost as if the closing days of the great scout were to end in darkness.
Through his friends, Daniel Boone now appealedto the legislature of Kentucky to see that justice was done him. Eager to recognize the services of the man who had done so much for their state, the legislature urged Congress to do justice to the white-haired old scout. After some delay the petition was granted, and a gift of eight hundred and fifty acres of land was voted Daniel Boone.
It was in December, 1813, when Daniel Boone received word of this gift, but his relief and pleasure were lessened by the death of his wife. Selecting a choice spot that overlooked the river for her grave, the old scout said that when he, too, should die he wished to be buried by her side.
Seven years later, when he was eighty-five years old, this last request of Daniel Boone was granted.
Missouri, however, was not to be the final resting-place of the famous old scout and his wife. A quarter of a century later the legislature of Kentucky requested the children of Boone to permit the people of the state for which he had done so much to bring the bodies of the great scout and his wife to Frankfort, Kentucky.
To-day, on a beautiful site overlooking the banks of the Kentucky River, looking down upon the city of Frankfort, a fitting monument marks the place where all that is mortal of Daniel Boone lies resting.
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