Daniel Boone, the Pioneer of Kentucky
By Charles Morris
CHAPTERS IN UNITED STATES HISTORY.* NO. 6.
Daniel Boone, the Pioneer of Kentucky.
Boone a Prisoner—Adopted into the Tribe—The Fort Threatened—The Captive’s Escape—Assault of the Fort—The Devoted Nine—The Tunnel Unmasked—Repulse of the Indians—Boone’s Later Career. He was taken to Chillicothe, on the Little Miami River, the chief town of the tribe. Here a grand council was held, at which his fate was considered. That he would be put to death with torture he did not doubt. Luckily, at this critical juncture an old woman of the family of Blackfish, one of the most distinguished chiefs, claimed him as her adopted son, to replace a son lost in battle. Her claim was in accordance with the time-honored customs of the tribe. It could not be set aside. The captive was set free, and was adopted with great ceremony into the tribe, the warriors being proud to have so mighty a hunter as one of themselves. The ordeal was no trifling one. All the hair of the novitiate was plucked out by the roots, with the exception of the scalp-lock, a few inches square. But Boone bore the pain with true Indian phlegm, and appeared so contented with his lot that he went far to throw his captors off their guard. Yet the Indians were too wary to be easily deceived. Their white brother was constantly watched, tho seemingly left free to go where he would. Careful measures were taken to prevent his escape. Tho permitted to go out alone to hunt, his powder and balls were heedfully measured out, that he might not have enough to serve him in a long flight. But shrewd as they were, they were no match in cunning for Daniel Boone. In the hunt he cut his balls in half and used small charges of powder, thus gradually accumulating a small stock of ammunition. To all appearance he was content with his lot, while his scalp-lock, his dress, and his deeply embrowned face gave him the aspect of a genuine redskin. But despite his seeming content, he had no thought of spending his life in an Indian village, and, with all his outward satisfaction, was secretly laying plans to escape. The time came when flight was imperative. On his return to Chillicothe from a visit to the Salt Licks, with a party of Indians, he found the former peaceful aspect of the town changed to one of warlike preparation. A band of 450 warriors had collected for a hostile expedition, which he learned with horror was directed against the fort in which he had left his wife and children. In the present state of security of the garrison, they might easily be taken by surprise. He alone could warn them, and to do so, he must escape from his vigilant captors.8From the first he had pretended ignorance of their language, tho he understood it quite well enough to learn all of the details of their plot. But no trace of anxiety was allowed to appear on his face. He looked on at their war-dances with smiling aspect, and seemed so careless and indifferent that they talked of their project freely before him, and were pleased to find that he seemed warmly interested in their preparations and eager for their success. So marked, indeed, appeared his sympathy with them that, absorbed in their enterprise, they became less watchful of his movements. This was the state of affairs he had desired to produce, and, the preparations for his flight being made, on the morning of June 16, he set out for his ordinary hunt, fully resolved not to return. Adding to the ammunition given to him by his guards that which he had concealed in the woods, he lost not a moment in his flight, heading straight southward through the forest. He well knew that as soon as the usual hour of his return had passed, a host of Indian scouts would be put on his trail, and that if he was captured and brought back, death by the cruelest of tortures would be his lot. Yet he knew also that none of the savages surpassed him in speed of foot and powers of endurance, and that few were his equal in knowledge of woodcraft, while in skill with the rifle he had hardly an equal in the western wilds. Onward he went with the utmost speed, tho taking all possible precautions to avoid making a plain trail. He dared not use his rifle to obtain food, as quick ears might hear its sound. He dared not kindle a fire to cook game, as quick eyes might detect its smoke. He had with him a little dried venison, and with this for his sole food he kept onward day and night, taking little time for sleep, letting no obstacle stop him in his course. And, like bloodhounds, on came the furious pursuers, now losing his trail, now finding it again; and spreading out far to right and left, lest he should deviate from the southward course which he was almost sure to pursue. The fugitive at length found himself on the banks of the Ohio River. He dared not yet relax his vigilance. Tho he had not seen a foeman, he knew well that human bloodhounds were upon his track, and that there was no safety for him until he had placed that stream, now swollen by recent rains, between himself and his foes. Yet he dared not trust himself to its current. Skilled as he was in woodcraft, he was a poor swimmer. Fortunately, he found a stranded canoe among the bushes of the shore half full of water from a hole in its bottom. This hole he soon closed, and, with the aid of an improvised paddle, succeeded in reaching the southern shore. Now, for the first time, the fugitive dared to discharge his rifle, and to build a fire. Shooting a wild turkey and broiling it over the flames, he made the most delicious meal of his life. Then he hurried onward in fear that some of his pursuers had crossed the stream. At length he reached the fort, after five days of incessant forest travel, during which he had traversed a distance of 160 miles. He was stared at like a dead man restored to life. He had long since been given up for lost, and his wife and children had returned to their old North Carolina home. But there was no time for regret. The fort was in bad condition. It must be quickly repaired, for the hostile band might be already on the march. The men were put energetically to work, while, to strike the Indians with terror, Boone led a party swiftly to, and across, the Ohio, met a party of savages, and attacked them with a fierceness that quickly put them to flight. This foray and the escape of their dreaded captive so alarmed the Indians as to delay their projected assault. It was not until August that they appeared. They numbered 444 warriors, and were led by Captain Duquesne and other French officers. There were fifty men, all told, in the fort. The situation seemed desperate, but Boone answered their summons to surrender with the bold reply, "We are determined to defend our fort while a man of us lives." Failing to obtain a surrender, Duquesne tried treachery. He proposed that nine of the garrison should come out and treat with him, saying that he would retire if they could come to terms. Tho Boone had no faith in this promise, he was daring enough to accept it. He selected nine of the strongest and most active of his men, appointed a meeting place 120 feet from the fort, and stationed riflemen to cover the spot with their weapons. The meeting took place. Liberal terms were offered and accepted, and some of the chiefs suggested that the treaty be concluded in the Indian manner, by shaking hands. Boone knew very well what this meant. The device was that two Indians should seize each white man, drag him away, and by threats of torture to the captives, compel the garrison to surrender the fort. But to unmask the wily foe, he consented to the dangerous proposition. It proved as he expected. No sooner had the Indians grasped their hands than they sought to drag them away. At the same time a storm of bullets was poured upon the fort, to which the rifles of the garrison actively replied. Boone and his companions, who had taken care not to permit too close a grasp, easily shook off their assailants and fled back to the fort, followed by bullets, tho the sharp fire from the fort disconcerted the aim of the foe. The nine adventurers were soon within the gates, only one of the number, Boone's brother, being wounded. Through their strength and alertness they had escaped a frightful peril. A fierce assault was now made upon the fort, the fire being kept up almost incessantly for nine days and nights, during which the garrison had scarcely any sleep. The bullets of the foe, however, fired from behind rocks and trees, did little harm, while every response from the garrison told. While this was going on, the assailants were seeking to undermine the fort with a tunnel beginning at the river's edge. But the clay thrown out discolored the waters of the stream, and the garrison, warned by their danger, averted it by cutting a trench across the route of the tunnel. An effort was next made to fire the fort by flaming arrows. The dry timbers caught and burst into flame; but one of the young men dashed upon the roof and extinguished the fire regardless of the bullets, which fell like hail around him. At length, the enemy, thoroughly discouraged, gave up the attempt and retired, having killed only two and wounded four of the garrison, while they had thirty-seven dead, and a large number wounded. So industrious had they been that 125 pounds weight of bullets were picked up, besides what were buried in the walls of the fort. As for their marksmanship, little can be said in its favor. The remainder of the life of Daniel Boone may be briefly summarized. He took part in the Indian war which afterwards raged for years on the frontier, and which was at length brought to an end by General Wayne. After that the settlement of Kentucky went on rapidly, and the population became in time too thick for Boone. In 1802 he plunged again into the western wilderness, saying: "Too much crowded. I want more elbow room." Several times afterwards he moved west, and finally settled beyond the Mississippi, about fifty miles west of St. Louis. Here he dwelt for years, engaged in hunting and trapping, and here in 1818 he died, of pure old age, after a most adventurous career, having won undying renown as the most daring, skilful, and successful of the great band of American pioneers.