GENERAL SIMON KENTON.
[CHAPTER I.]
Birth of Kenton—Desperate Affray with a Rival—Flees to the Kentucky Wilderness—He and Two Companions attacked by Indians—One is Killed and the Survivors Escape—Rescued, after great Suffering—Kenton spends the Summer alone in the Woods—Serves as a Scout in the Dunmore War—Kenton and Two Friends settle at Upper Blue Lick—Joined by Hendricks, who meets with a Terrible Fate.
The fame of Simon Kenton, hunter and pioneer, is scarcely second to that of Daniel Boone; he was fully as courageous and equally skilled in woodcraft, while personally more winning in manner. Had the opportunities of Boone been his, he would have achieved a fame scarcely less; but such as he was, no history of the West would be complete without mention of Boone's intimate friend, Simon Kenton.
Of the early years of Kenton little is known, and it is not likely that they were marked by anything worthy of mention. He was born in Fauquier County, Virginia, May 15th, 1755. His parents were very poor, and Simon led a life of drudging toil on a farm, until he was sixteen, at which age he was unable to read or write his name.
The young man, however, was strong, robust, very athletic, good looking, and with a pleasing, musical voice. He was just the kind of youth to become popular among the rough spirits of the border, and it was at that time that an incident occurred which marked an era in his life.
Young as Kenton was, he was a rival of another in the esteem of an attractive young lady of the neighborhood; and, as the lady herself seemed unwilling to decide as to who was her preference, Kenton and his rival agreed to decide it by a bout at fisticuffs.
The conflict took place, but, through the treachery of his rival, Kenton was terribly beaten. He had no choice but to submit to the outrage in silence, but, like Dr. Winship, the modern Samson, he determined to get strong, and then punish the one who had treated him so foully.
Within the year or two succeeding, Kenton reached the stature of six feet, and, confident of his own strength and skill, he called upon his former rival and asked him to try conclusions again with him. The other was also a powerful man and gladly accepted the challenge, for he hated Kenton intensely, and resolved to give him such a terrific punishment that he would never be able to annoy him again.
At first, the rival got the best of Kenton and injured him severely; but the future scout was full of grit, and he managed to secure the upper hand, when he administered such a chastisement that when he released his man he seemed to be gasping in death.
Kenton looked at him for a moment, and was so certain he could not live a half hour longer, that he was seized with a panic and fled. He did not dare even to return home for a change of clothing, but faced toward the West and ran as though his pursuers were in sight.
Feeling no doubt that his rival was dead, he was sure his avengers would be at his heels, and he scarcely rested during the day. When, however, he reached the neighborhood of the Warm Springs, the settlements were so sparse that he drew a sigh of relief, and felt that he was in no immediate peril from the officers of the law.
Still Kenton did not dare pause for any length of time, and he was walking forward when he came upon a Jerseyman named Johnson, who was journeying in the same direction.
It is at such times that the heart craves companionship, and the two men affiliated at once. Johnson was driving a pack-horse before him, and seemed pretty well tired out; but he was full of pluck, and it took but a few minutes for the two adventurers fully to understand each other.
As a proof of the fear which Kenton felt that his pursuers might overtake him, it may be stated at this point that he changed his name to Simon Butler, with a view of rendering it more difficult to identify him.
The new friends penetrated the wilderness of the Alleghanies, relying under heaven upon their own prowess and bravery. Both were skillful marksmen, and they had no difficulty in securing all the game they needed, while they kept unceasing watchfulness against the prowling Indians, who, at that day, were liable to spring upon them at any time.
They pushed steadily forward until they reached a small settlement at the forks of the Monongahela; there they separated, and, so far as known, never saw each other again.
At the settlement was a small company under the leadership of John Mahon and Jacob Greathouse, who had just made ready to explore the country below them. Embarking in a large canoe, they floated down the river until they reached the Province's settlement. Here Kenton formed the acquaintance of two young men, named Yager and Strader, the former of whom had once been a captive among the Indians.
He fired the heart of Kenton by his glowing accounts of the region of Kentucky, which he declared was a hunter's paradise.
"There is no richer soil in the world," said Yager; "vegetation is so luxuriant that it will strike you with wonder, and the herds of buffalo and elk which roam through those woods are so immense that you wouldn't believe me if I were to tell you the numbers."
Kenton was sure there was some foundation for the positive assertions of Yager, and he listened eagerly to what he had to add;
"The region has no white men in it; any one who chooses to hunt there can do so. I have gone with the Indians many a time on their hunting excursions, and I could lead you through the same. If you will go with us, I will do so."
Kenton accepted the proposition with great enthusiasm, declaring that he would start at once.
Yager and Strader were equally hopeful, and in a short time the three were drifting down the Ohio in a single canoe.
Yager had lived among the Indians in his childhood, and while he entertained a vivid recollection of the incidents, he could not be positive concerning the distances between certain points. He was unable to say how far down the river they would have to go to find the place where the Indians crossed from Ohio into Kentucky to hunt, but he was sure he would recognize the spot the instant he saw it, for it was very different from any other point on the stream, and was indelibly fixed in his memory.
They were so anxious to reach the promised land, as it seemed to be to them, that the men rowed strongly and continuously, keeping at the oars far into the night.
There can be no question as to Yager's honesty, but he was led astray by his own impressions; the crossing he was seeking was a great deal further away than he believed.
Kenton and Strader began to think they were a long time in arriving at a point so near at hand. When they expressed their dissatisfaction, Yager still insisted, and the lusty arms were plied again with renewed vigor.
But, though the keen eyes scrutinized the shore on either hand with a watchfulness which could not be mistaken, they failed to discover anything resembling the crossing, which Yager had described so often and so vividly that the others saw it distinctly in their mind's eye.
Kenton and Strader were not angered, but they rallied their companion on his error, and suggested that he was describing and they were searching for a place which never had an existence, unless it was in the imagination of the former Indian captive.
Finally, Yager admitted that he didn't understand how it was, unless they had passed the crossing in the night.
"There is such a place," he asserted with great positiveness, "for I saw it more than once, when I was a child with the Indians, and I remember it so well, that I would recognize it on the instant. It must be that we went by it in the night."
After awhile, they agreed to return and explore the country more thoroughly. They did so, visiting the land in the neighborhood of Salt Lick, Little and Big Sandy, and Guyandotte. They finally wearied of hunting for that which it seemed impossible to find, and, locating on the Great Kanawha, devoted themselves to hunting and trapping. They found the occupation so congenial, that they pursued it for two years, exchanging their furs and peltries with the traders at Fort Pitt, for such necessaries as hunters require.
The period passed by these three men on the Kanawha will be recognized by the reader as a momentous one; for not only were the fires of the Revolution kindling, but the embers of war along the border were fanning into a blaze that was to sweep over thousands of square miles of settlement and wilderness, and to bring appalling disaster to the West.
Nothing gives a more vivid idea of the insecurity of the pioneers of Kentucky and Ohio, than the bloodhound-like persistency with which the red men hunted down all invaders of their soil. Boone and his party, which might have been considered strong enough to take care of themselves against any ordinary war party, were attacked before they caught more than a glimpse of the fair land; while the settler, who builded his cabin close to the frowning block-house, was shot down on his own threshold.
Kenton and his two companions had spent months enjoying their free, open life in the woods, when the red men came down upon them like the whirlwind.
It was in the month of March, 1773, while they were stretched out in their rude tent, chatting and smoking, that the dark woods around them suddenly flamed with fire, and a volley was poured in upon them, followed by the fierce shouts of the warriors, who seemed to swarm up from the very earth.
Poor Strader was riddled with bullets, and scarcely stirred, so instant was his death. By wonderful good fortune, neither of the others was injured, and, leaping to their feet, they bounded into the woods like frightened deer, the bullets whistling all about them and their ferocious enemies at their heels.
The gathering darkness and their own fleetness enabled them speedily to place themselves beyond reach of the savages; but their plight was a pitiable one.
So desperate was their haste, that neither had time to catch up blanket, gun or a scrap of provisions; an instant's pause would have been fatal. And now they found themselves in the gloomy woods, with the chilling wind cutting them to the bone, and without the means even of starting a fire.
The brave fellows, however, did not despair. They felt that while there was life there was hope, and they determined to make for the Ohio without delay. Had they possessed their guns, it would have been an easy matter to secure such game as they needed, and to kindle a fire, but with undaunted hearts and with their knowledge of woodcraft which enabled them to determine the direction to the Ohio, they started for the river.
During the first two days, they allayed the pangs of gnawing hunger by chewing succulent roots, while the bark on the trees was a sufficient guide to keep them going in the right direction. The miserable nourishment, however, soon told, and the third day found them much weaker, though with their courage undiminished.
They grew feeble very fast, and both were seized with a violent nausea, caused by the unwelcome substances they had taken into their stomachs to satisfy the pangs of hunger. Their condition became so much worse on the fourth day, that, strong men as they were, they felt it was useless to strive longer. They threw themselves on the ground with the intention of waiting for death, but when they assumed the prone position, they seemed to rally both in body and spirits, and, after awhile, they would rise and press forward again.
On the fifth day, death appeared near to them, and they were scarcely able to crawl. They staggered and crept along for about a mile, and, just as the sun was setting, found themselves on the bank of the Ohio, which was a Beautiful River indeed to them.
Almost at the same moment, they came upon a party of traders, and saw they were saved, for the men gave them the provisions they needed, and were anxious to do all in their power for the emaciated and distressed hunters.
But the story told by the latter filled them with such alarm for their own safety, that they prepared to leave such a perilous section without delay. Hastily gathering their effects together, they made all haste to the Little Kanawha, where they encountered another exploring party under the leadership of Dr. Briscoe, who furnished Kenton with a new rifle and ammunition. Yager had had enough of the wilderness, and he stayed with his new-found friends. But Kenton, with his gun and powder, felt like a giant refreshed, and, bidding the others good-bye, plunged alone into the woods.
He spent the following summer in hunting, just as Daniel Boone did under somewhat similar circumstances, and, toward the close of the season, made his way back to the little Kanawha. Here he found an exploring party under the direction of Dr. Wood and Hancock Lee, who were descending the Ohio with the purpose of joining Captain Bullitt, whom they expected to find at the mouth of the Scioto, with a company of pioneers so large that nothing was to be feared from the Indians.
Kenton willingly accepted the invitation to join them, and the descent of the stream was resumed. They moved at a leisurely pace, often stopping on the way to examine the country. They were not disturbed by the Indians until they reached the Three Islands. There, to their dismay, they discovered such a formidable body of warriors, that they were compelled to abandon their canoes precipitately, and they hurried across the country in a diagonal direction for Green Brier county, Virginia.
The journey was a most uncomfortable one, for they were in constant danger from the red men, and were afraid to pause long enough to secure and prepare the necessary food.
To add to their troubles, the leader of the party, Dr. Wood, while tramping along was bitten by a venomous snake, known as the copperhead. The physician applied all the remedies at his command, but, for several days, he lay at the point of death and unable to move. Despite the great danger of pausing on the way, the party were compelled to go into camp for a couple of weeks on account of their leader's condition. At the end of that time, however, he had so far recovered that the journey was resumed, and they reached the settlements without further mishap.
Kenton was so sorely troubled by the recollection of the affray with his rival several years before, whom he supposed to be dead, that he was afraid to remain in Virginia. Accordingly, he built a canoe on the banks of the Monongahela, paddled to the mouth of the Great Kanawha, and resumed his hunting, which he prosecuted with great success until the spring of 1774.
Then it was that a brief but virulent war broke out between the Indians and Colonies, caused, as will be remembered, by the murder of the family of the celebrated Mingo chief, Logan. The part played by Kenton in this campaign was the important one of scout, in the execution of which duties he tramped over the country around Fort Pitt and a great deal of the present State of Ohio.
There still lingered in the mind of the daring Kenton a strong faith in the statements made to him by Yager that there were sections of the surrounding country with a wonderfully rich soil, abundant vegetation, and immense numbers of game. He determined to make search for it, and met with little difficulty in persuading two friends to join in the hunt.
A strong canoe was constructed and stocked with provisions, and the trio paddled down the river to the mouth of Big Bone Creek, on which the famous Big Bone Lick stands. There they landed, and spent several days in exploring the surrounding country; but they were disappointed; nothing answering the representations of Yager was discovered.
Entering their canoe once more, they ascended the river to the entrance of Cabin Creek, a short distance above Maysville. With faith undiminished, they resolved upon a more thorough exploration. In the prosecution of this purpose they came upon May's Lick, where they saw that the surrounding soil possessed unusual richness. Striking the well-known great buffalo track, they followed it for a few hours, when they reached the Lower Blue Lick.
The flats upon each side of the river were swarming with thousands of buffalo that were attracted thither by the salt, while a number of magnificent elk were seen upon the crests of the ridges which surrounded the brackish springs.
"This is the place!" exclaimed the delighted Kenton; "this is the promised land that Yager saw! We need go no further!"
His companions agreed with him, and the delighted pioneers engaged in hunting at once. They could not fail to bring down a great many buffaloes and elk, when the splendid game had scarcely seen enough of their great enemy, man, to learn to fear him.
When they became surfeited with the sport, the three crossed the Licking, and, after a long tramp, came upon another buffalo trace, which led them to the Upper Blue Lick, where they saw the same bewildering abundance of game.
Fully satisfied now that they had discovered the richest and most promising section of all the West, they returned to their canoes, and went up the river as far as Green Bottom, where they had left their peltries, some ammunition, and a few agricultural implements, with the view of cultivating the inviting soil.
They lost no time in hurrying back and beginning the clearing of the land. An acre was denuded of trees in the middle of a large canebrake, planted with Indian corn, and a cabin erected. This was on the spot where Washington now stands.
The pioneers were in high spirits; for after a long search they had found the land they sighed for, and the future looked promising and bright. They settled down to hard work, and were confident that the fertility of the soil would yield them large returns.
While strolling about the woods one day, with no particular object in view, they were surprised to meet two men, named Hendricks and Fitzpatrick, who were in a sad plight. In descending the Ohio, their canoe had been upset by a sudden squall, and they were forced to swim ashore, without being able to save anything from the wreck. They had been wandering though the woods for several days, and would have perished soon had they not come upon the little party of pioneers.
Kenton had been in a similar predicament, and could not fail to sympathize with them. He urged them to join the diminutive settlement he had started at Washington, and trust to Providence to bring them out right in the end. Hendricks agreed to stay, but Fitzpatrick had had enough of the wilderness, and was so homesick that he only asked to get out of the unfriendly country and back to the Monongahela. Kenton and his companions went with him as far as Maysville, gave him a gun and some ammunition, assisted him across the river, and bade him good-by.
Pity it was that Hendricks did not accompany him, as the sequel will prove.
While Kenton and his two brother pioneers were doing this neighborly kindness for the one, Hendricks was at the cabin which had been erected a few days before. He had been left there without a gun, but with plenty of provisions, and no one dreamed of his being in danger.
The three men, having seen Fitzpatrick off, hastened back to the clearing, pleased at the thought of the companion they had gained, and regretting that the other man had not consented to join them.
When they reached the rough cabin they were somewhat alarmed to see nothing of Hendricks, and the quick eyes of the hunters observed that something unusual had taken place. A number of bullet-holes were noticed in the timbers, which were chipped in other places by the leaden missiles, while some of the articles of Hendricks were scattered around in a way which could leave no doubt he had been visited by Indians.
The fact that he had no weapon with which to defend himself, caused his friends to fear the worst, and with rapidly beating hearts they began an investigation, not knowing how close the peril was to them.
They had not hunted far, when they discovered a thin column of smoke rising from a ravine near at hand. Certain that a large war party of savages was near them, the three men were seized with a panic and fled in the greatest terror.
It was a curious thing for Kenton to do, for he was certainly one of the bravest of men. It would have been expected that he would insist on an investigation before such a precipitate flight, and it was always a source of deep regret to him in after-life that he did not do so.
Having reached a safe point, the trio hid themselves in the cane until the evening of the next day, when they once more ventured back to the clearing, and then approached the ravine from which they had seen the smoke of a camp-fire ascending.
Smoke was still visible, and when they ventured closer they were horrified to find only the charred bones of their late companion! He had been burned at the stake, and in all probability was alive when the others first saw the vapor on the previous day.
Had they not been so terrified by the belief that a large war party was at hand, they might have saved him. As we have said, it was the source of the deepest regret to Kenton that he did not reconnoitre the spot, when such a possibility of rescue existed.
[CHAPTER II.]
Kenton and his Friends Visit Boonesborough—Desperate Encounter with Indians—Proceeds with Two Companions to Reconnoitre an Indian Town on the Little Miami—Captured while Making Off with a Number of Horses—Brutal Treatment—Bound to the Stake and Runs the Gauntlet—Friendship of Simon Girty, the Renegade—Finally Saved by an Indian Trader—Removed to Detroit, and Escapes—Commands a Company in General Clark's Expedition—Receives Good News—Visits Virginia—Death of his Father—Reduced to Poverty—Removes to Urbana, Ohio—Elected Brigadier-General—His Conversion—His Last Days.
Simon Kenton and his two friends stayed at Washington until the following September, undisturbed by Indians, though they were never entirely free from apprehension of a visit from them.
In the month named they visited the Lick, where they encountered a white man, who told them most important news. The interior of Kentucky had been settled in several places, and there was a thriving pioneer station at Boonesborough.
Kenton and his friends were glad to learn this, for they had seen enough of the perils of the woods to long for the society of some of their own race. They immediately left their dangerous home, and, visiting the smaller settlements, made a prolonged stay at Boonesborough, where they were most gladly welcomed. During the two sieges of the place which we have described, Kenton was one of the garrison, and served with great efficiency as a spy and scout until the summer of 1778, when Boone came back from captivity and formed the plan for the attack upon the Indians at Paint Creek.
This expedition, which has already been referred to elsewhere, proved to be a most eventful one to Kenton, who acted as spy. After crossing the Ohio, he kept a considerable distance in advance, on the alert for the first evidence of Indians.
He was suddenly startled by hearing a loud laugh from an adjoining thicket, which he was on the point of entering. Like a flash the scout sprang behind a tree and with cocked rifle awaited the explanation.
He had but a few minutes to wait, when two Indians emerged from the thicket, mounted on a pony. Both were laughing and chatting in high spirits, and with no thought of anything like danger. They had been on some marauding expedition against the whites, and had met with such success that they seemed as elated as a couple of children.
Kenton held his place until they approached within easy distance, when he took careful aim and fired. The well-aimed shot killed the first and badly wounded the second, while the frightened pony whirled about and dashed into the thicket. Kenton instantly ran up to the slain Indian to scalp him, in accordance with the barbarous practice of the border, when a rustling on his right caused him to look up. To his amazement, there were two Indians not twenty yards distant, both of whom were in the act of taking aim at him.
The scout sprang aside at the instant both fired, and though the bullets whizzed close to his eyes he was uninjured. There could be no doubt that the neighborhood was a most undesirable one just then, for other warriors were near by, and Kenton lost no time in taking to the shelter of the woods.
Fleet as he was, he had no more than reached shelter, when a dozen Indians appeared on the margin of the canebrake and the situation of the scout became most serious; but, at this critical moment, Boone appeared with his party, who opened a brisk fire upon the Indians. The attack was so spirited that they broke and scattered, and Kenton was relieved from his perilous position.
Boone, as we have stated elsewhere, immediately returned to Boonesborough, but the intrepid Kenton determined to learn more of the Indians, and if possible to repay them for the attack they had made upon him.
Accompanied by a friend named Montgomery, they approached the Indian town not far off, and stationed themselves near a cornfield, expecting the red men would enter it for the purpose of roasting the ears. With that characteristic patience of the border scouts, they stayed beside the cornfield the entire day waiting and watching for a shot at some of the warriors. But during the time not a single one appeared, though the whites could hear the voices of the children playing near at hand.
The scouts were greatly disappointed, for they had been confident of seeing some warrior, but night came without such an opportunity having presented itself, and they were forced to ask themselves the question whether they would go back empty handed, so to speak, or whether they would incur some additional risk for the sake of accomplishing something by way of retaliation.
As the best they could do, they stealthily entered the Indian town late at night, picked out four good horses, made all haste to the Ohio, which they crossed in safety, and on the succeeding day reached Logan's fort without disturbance.
This was an extraordinary achievement, for the Indians and settlers were in such open hostility that it may be said the former were constantly on the alert to prevent just such surprises.
Colonel Bowman, at the fort, requested Kenton, Montgomery and a Mr. Clark to undertake a more difficult and dangerous task for him: that was a secret expedition to one of the Indian towns on the Little Miami, against which the Colonel meditated an expedition, and about which, of course, he was desirous of gaining all the information possible.
The duty was a congenial one to the three men, who reached the village without discovery, made a careful reconnoissance by night, and were then ready to return home.
Well would it have been for them had they done so, but the subsequent conduct of Kenton shows that his repeated escapes and continued immunity at the hands of the savages, had rendered him reckless, and caused him to estimate too highly perhaps his own prowess and skill as compared with theirs.
At this time, unfortunately, they discovered an enclosure where the Indians kept their horses. Like all borderers they dearly loved that kind of property, and could not resist the temptation. More than that, instead of selecting the best, they took the whole lot and started for the Ohio.
Such a wholesale proceeding created a good deal of confusion despite the care of the three scouts, and the Indians speedily discovered what was going on.
They poured out of their wigwams and lodges, in great excitement, all eager to prevent the loss of their property, while the whites showed an equal eagerness to get away with it. Instead of abandoning the animals and attempting to save themselves, they foolishly continued their effort to escape with them all.
One rode in front leading the animals, and the other two remained at the rear and lashed them into a gallop, through the woods, while the excited Indians came whooping and shrieking after them.
It was a wild, break-neck proceeding, but the scouts kept it up until they reached the edge of an impenetrable swamp, where, for the first time since starting, they came to a stand-still and listened for their pursuers.
Not a sound was heard, to indicate they were anywhere in the neighborhood, and the whites congratulated themselves on what looked like a remarkable achievement. But they were certain to be pursued, and skirting the swamp, they continued their flight in the direction of the Ohio, which was a long way distant.
The horses were pressed to the utmost, the riders frequently changing animals, through the night, the next day, and most of the following night. The next morning they stood on the northern bank of the Ohio.
The wind was blowing strongly, and the river was so boisterous that the crossing was sure to be difficult. At the same time they knew that their pursuers would not delay, and must be close behind them. A hurried consultation was held, and it was agreed that Kenton should swim the animals over while Montgomery and Clark constructed a raft to transport the baggage.
Accordingly Kenton led the animals into the river, while he swam at their side, but the stream had become so rough that he was forced away from them, and all he could do was to save himself from drowning. The horses being left to themselves turned about and swam back to the shore they had left a short time before.
This exasperating performance was repeated until Kenton became so exhausted that he was forced to lie down on the shore until he could recover his strength and wind.
A council of war, as it might be called, was then held and the question considered was whether they should abandon the animals and attend to their own safety, or risk their lives by waiting where they were until the Ohio should become calmer, in the hope of getting them to the other side. Nothing can show the great admiration of the men of the border for the noblest of all animals, than their immediate and unanimous agreement that they would never desert their horses.
The scouts committed the inexplainable blunder of staying where they were, knowing, as they must have known, that the infuriated warriors were rapidly coming up on their trail, and could be at no great distance behind them.
The wind continued churning the water all through the day, and did not abate until the next morning. Then, when they tried to force the steeds into the water, they refused and some of them broke away. The infatuated scouts lost more valuable time in the vain attempt to recapture them and, as was inevitable, the Indians soon made their appearance.
They were in such numbers, and so well armed, that it was useless to fight them, and Clark had sense enough to take to his heels. He succeeded in effecting his own escape. Montgomery was shot down and scalped, while Kenton was seized from behind, when on the very point of assailing a warrior in front, and pinioned. Others speedily gathered, beat and shook the scout, and pulled his hair, until he was tortured almost to death.
"Steal hoss of Indian, eh!" they exclaimed again and again as they beat him over the head with their ramrods.
When they had pounded him until they were tired, Kenton was thrown on his back, and his arms stretched out at full length. Pieces of saplings were then fastened to his arms and legs in such a manner that the poor fellow was literally unable to stir hand or foot.
While thus engaged they continued to beat and curse him in broken English. When he was strapped in his immovable position he was left until morning. No pen can picture the utter horror and misery of such a night, with arm and legs outstretched and with body incapable of any motion excepting a slight turn of the head.
It was a literal crucifixion, without the erection of the cross. Knowing the Indians so well, he did not entertain a particle of doubt that he would be put to death with the most fearful torture that can be imagined.
The fury of the Indians against Kenton seemed to increase rather than diminish. It would have been a very easy matter to tomahawk or slay him with knife or rifle, when he was so helpless, but that would have ended the matter and deprived them of the enjoyment they counted upon at such times.
In the morning they gave a Mazeppa performance, by tying Kenton fast to an unbroken colt and turning him loose. The horse, however, seemed to have more pity than his cruel masters, for after galloping a short distance about the others, he came back and rejoined them, continuing with the others until nightfall, when Kenton was taken off and fastened by buffalo thongs to the stakes of saplings as before.
For three days the terrible march continued, when the Indian town of Chillicothe was reached. The arrival of the prisoner created great excitement, and the chief Blackfish beat Kenton over the naked shoulders with hickory sticks until the blood flowed, and the poor fellow was almost delirious with agony.
All the cries he heard during this fearful punishment were those of fury. These soon changed to a demand that he should be tied to the stake, and it was done. His clothing was torn from his body, his hands fastened above his head, and the Indians danced about him beating and whooping and jeering at the prisoner, who expected every minute that the fire would be kindled at his feet.
Ordinarily this would have been done, but the desire to continue the torture was so great that the savages deferred the last awful tragedy, until they should extract more sport from the victim.
He was kept in this trying position until late at night, when he was released. It seemed as if it were intended that Simon Kenton should go through every form of Indian torture, for, on the morrow, he was led out and forced to run the gauntlet.
The preparations for this were so complete, and the Indians so numerous with their clubs and all sorts of weapons, that it can scarcely be doubted that Kenton would have been beaten to death, had he undertaken to speed the entire distance between the two long rows of Indians.
Instead of doing so, he darted aside and after doubling upon his pursuers, plunged into the council house, receiving only a few blows from the warriors standing near. Within this lodge was held the council to determine what course should be taken with their prisoner. There was no thought or releasing him, but some might prefer to delay the enjoyment of his death by torture no longer, while others were inclined to think it was too pleasant for them to allow the amusement to terminate so soon.
A comparison of views and a ballot showed that the majority were in favor of deferring his taking off a short while longer. His execution, therefore, was suspended for the time, and it was agreed to take him to an Indian town on Mad River, known as Waughcotomoco.
"What is to be done with me after we get there?" asked Kenton of the renegade who interpreted the sentence to him.
"Burn you at the stake," was the reply, accompanied by a brutal oath, as the white savage strode away.
Kenton was given back his clothing, and was not bound while on the road, as it was deemed impossible for him to escape from among his numerous, vigilant captors.
But, as there could be no doubt that his death by torture was fully determined, the prisoner was resolved on one desperate effort to escape, for in no sense could a failure result in making his condition worse than before.
He deferred the attempt until they were so close to Waughcotomoco, that the party exchanged signal whoops with the warriors of the town who began flocking thither to see the prisoner.
Feeling that it was then or never, Kenton uttered a shout and broke away like a frightened deer, the Indians following him, some on foot, and some on horseback. His great fleetness might have enabled him to escape, but while he was running from those behind, he came directly upon a party who were riding from the village to meet the others, and before he was hardly aware of his danger he was recaptured.
After suffering great indignities, they reached Waughcotomoco, where Kenton was forced to run the gauntlet again and was badly hurt. He was then taken to the council-house, where he sat in despair, while the warriors consulted as to the precise means of his death.
While they were thus engaged, Simon Girty and three companions came in with a white woman and seven children as prisoners. Kenton was taken away to make room for these, and as their fate now became a matter of debate, the session was protracted until a late hour. The verdict, however, was inevitable, and on the morrow, Simon Girty, the notorious renegade, gave himself the extreme pleasure of communicating the news to the hapless prisoner.
During this interview Girty was astounded to discover in the prisoner his former comrade, who had served with him as a spy in Dunmore's expedition. That was before Girty had foresworn his race, and the two men became warmly attached to each other.
Girty was greatly agitated, and instantly set to work to secure the release of the prisoner. The difficulty of this task can scarcely be imagined, for such a request was unprecedented; but Girty persevered, making the most ardent appeals and begging and insisting, until it was put to a vote, when it was agreed that the prayer, coming from one who had served them so faithfully as had the renegade for three years, could not be denied, and it was granted.
Kenton now remained a prisoner among the Indians for three weeks, during which Girty treated him with unvarying kindness. Indeed his conduct in this extraordinary matter is the single bright spot in the career of one of the most terrible wretches that ever lived.
At the end of the time mentioned, however, another council was held, and despite the strenuous efforts of Girty, Kenton was condemned to death at the stake. There now seemed no possible hope, and, telling his friend he had done all he could for him, Girty shook his hand and bade him good-by.
But Kenton's remarkable good fortune did not desert him. The great chief Logan gave him his friendship and did what he could to save him, when Kenton was brought to his village, which was a short distance away. His interference, however, seemed to be unavailing, and he was started for Sandusky under a strong escort, that being the place fixed upon for his final death by torture.
There, however, when Kenton had abandoned all hope, an Indian agent by the name of Drewyer interested himself in his behalf, and by an ingenious statagem secured his removal to Detroit.
He thus became a prisoner-of-war, as Detroit was in the possession of the British, and his situation was immeasurably improved. He was sure to be treated in a civilized manner, and in process of time would be set free.
The situation, however, was anything but agreeable to Kenton, who was continually seeking for some way of escape. None presented itself for a long time, and he remained working for the garrison on half-pay until the summer of 1779.
It was at this time that the longed-for opportunity presented itself, through the kindness of the wife of an Indian trader. Kenton knew well enough that it would never do to plunge into the wilderness without rifles and ammunition, and she agreed to furnish him and two Kentuckians with the indispensable articles.
It was no small task for a lady to secure three guns and ammunition without the assistance of any one, but she succeeded in doing so. In the early summer of that year, the Indians around Detroit engaged in one of their periodical carousals. It was at night, and before giving themselves over to their brutish indulgence they stacked their guns near the house of the lady.
Without difficulty she secured three of the best, and hid them in her garden. Previous to this she had gathered some extra clothing and the required ammunition, which were hidden in a hollow tree outside the town. She managed to communicate with Kenton, who, at the appointed time, appeared at the garden with his friends, got the guns, and thanking his preserver most fervently and receiving her best wishes in return, bade her good-by and hastened away with his companions.
There was no difficulty in stealing out of town, which was full of drunken Indians, but it never would have done to wait; both they and the guns would be missed in the morning, and search would be immediately made.
The hollow tree was easily found, and hastily equipping themselves with what was stored there, they plunged into the wilderness and started on their long and dangerous journey for Louisville, Kentucky.
Leaving the commonly-traveled route, they first headed for the prairies of the Wabash, and pushed on like veteran pioneers who knew they were continually in danger of pursuit. They lost no time on the road, nor did they cease to use continual vigilance.
They were over a month making their way through the solitudes, but finally reached Louisville, without accident, in the month of July, 1779.
Kenton had become so accustomed to his rough, adventurous life, that he chafed under the quiet and restraint of the town. Slinging his rifle over his shoulder, therefore, he struck into the woods alone and tramped to Vincennes to see his old friend, Major Clark. He was warmly greeted, but he found everything so dull and hum-drum that he re-entered the wilderness, and after a long journey reached Harrodsburg, where he was received with as much delight as though he were Daniel Boone himself.
In the famous expedition of General Clark against the Indians, described elsewhere, Simon Kenton commanded a company of volunteers from Harrod's Station, and was one of the bravest officers of that formidable campaign against the red men, whose outrages were becoming so serious that the blow was determined upon as a means of forcing them to stay within their own lines.
It will be remembered that the command of General Clark numbered over a thousand men, and it will be understood that it was the most effective demonstration that, up to that time, had ever been undertaken on the frontier. Chillicothe, Pickaway, and numerous smaller towns were burnt and all the crops destroyed.
It can well be believed that when they reached Pickaway and the Indians made a stand, the arm of Simon Kenton was nerved with tenfold power, for it was there, two years before, that he had been compelled to run the gauntlet and was beaten almost to death. It was with the memory of the terrible sufferings of that time that he led his company into action, and he fought, as did they, like Richard Cœur de Lion.
The warriors made a brave resistance, but were unable to withstand the furious attack, and soon were scattered like chaff, leaving their dead and wounded on the field. This campaign brought peace and quietness to the frontier during the following two years. Kenton engaged in hunting, or in assisting surveying parties, until 1782, when he received the most startling news of his life.
For eleven years he had been a wanderer in the woods, oftentimes in indescribable peril, suffering almost death over and over again, and never free from the remorse caused by that encounter with his rival so long before in Virginia, whom he believed he left dying upon the ground and from whose presence he fled like Cain from the vengeance of men.
But at the time mentioned Kenton received proof that the man was not killed in that desperate affray, but had recovered, and was then alive and well, as was also the aged father of Kenton.
It can scarcely be conceived how great a burden these tidings lifted from the heart of Simon Kenton, who was no longer afraid to reveal his identity and make inquiries about his friends. It was like entering upon a new and joyous life.
Kenton commanded another company in General Clark's campaign in the autumn of 1782, and, as before, acted as the guide of the army, his knowledge of the country and his consummate woodcraft rendering his services indispensable in that direction.
While this campaign was only one of the numerous similar ones which have marked the settlement of the West, and which, sad to say, were too often accompanied by overwhelming disaster, it was rendered memorable to Kenton by a singular and impressive engagement into which he entered.
It was when the army was on its return, when opposite the mouth of the Licking, Nov. 4th, 1782, that Captain McCracken, who was dying from a wound received in battle, suggested that all the pioneers of the expedition who might be living fifty years from that day, should meet on the spot to celebrate the semi-centennial of the campaign.
It was at the suggestion of the dying soldier that Colonel Floyd drew up the resolution, and the meeting a half century later was agreed upon.
The purpose accomplished, the volunteers were disbanded, and Kenton went back to Harrod's Station, where he was always most gladly welcomed.
He had acquired considerable land, which was rapidly increasing in value. With a few families he began a settlement, which prospered greatly. The soil was very fertile, they were industrious, and they were blessed with abundant crops.
The circumstances being favorable, Kenton made a journey to Virginia to visit his father and friends. Thirteen years had passed since he had fled, believing himself a murderer, and now, among the first to take his hand, after he entered the familiar place, was his former rival in love. He and his wife greeted the handsome pioneer with great cordiality, and all resentment was buried in the happiness of the meeting.
Kenton was thankful indeed to find his aged father in good health, though his mother had been dead a number of years. Accompanied by his parent and the rest of the family, he started for Kentucky, intending that his father should spend the rest of his days with him. Such was the case, indeed, but the days proved fewer than the affectionate son supposed they would be.
The parent was very feeble, and when Red Stone Fort was reached, he quietly died. He was buried on the banks of the Monongahela, and Kenton, with the remainder of the family, arrived at the settlement in the winter of 1784.
Kentucky was rapidly filling up with emigrants at this time, though, as is well known, the Indians were very troublesome. Kenton saw that the land was certain to become valuable, and he determined to occupy the fertile section around his old camp near Maysville, which he had occasion to remember so well.
He made the venture in the summer of 1784, with a company of pioneers; but the Indians were so dangerous that they were forced to retire for the time. A few months later Kenton went back with a few friends, built a block-house, and soon after was joined by several families.
Settlers continued to flock thither, and the country prospered, despite the hostility of the red men. Kenton, by his foresight, had secured the right and title to a large quantity of valuable land. One thousand acres of this he gave to Arthur Fox and William Wood, and on it they laid out the town of Washington.
Despite the severe blow administered by General Clark, the savages committed so many depredations that a retaliatory campaign was determined upon. Seven hundred volunteers gathered under Colonel Logan and invaded the Indian country, inflicting much damage, and returning with only a trifling loss.
The guide of this expedition was Simon Kenton, who also commanded a company; but it was scarcely home again when the Indians renewed their depredations with such persistency that Kenton appealed to his old friends to rally once more, and to "carry the war into Africa."
It was promptly done, he assuming the part of captain and of guide as before. Chillicothe was burned, and the expedition returned without losing a man.
By this time Kenton was acknowledged as the leader in the frontier settlement. He possessed a great deal of valuable land, was a master of woodcraft, and in all the troubles with the Indians was looked to for protection and assistance.
During the half-dozen years following, his services in the latter respect were beyond estimate. He demonstrated his skill in the ways of the woods by ambushing a party of dusky marauders who had come down to devastate the border, and by inflicting such severe loss that the others fled in terror and never attempted to molest the settlement again.
But this period will be recognized by the reader as the eventful one of General Anthony Wayne's expedition against the combined Indian tribes of the West. Disaster had followed disaster, until the United States Government saw the necessity of ending the troubles by a campaign which should be resistless, and crushing in its effects.
Simon Kenton, at the time of Wayne's expedition, was a major, and with his battalion he joined the forces at Greenville. It may be said that his reputation at that time was national, and he was recognized as one of the most skillful and intrepid pioneers of the West. His bravery, activity and knowledge of "wood lore," inspired confidence everywhere, and linked his name inseparably with the settlement of the West.
His foresight in taking up the valuable lands was now shown by the results. They appreciated so rapidly in value with the settlement and development of the country, that he became one of the wealthiest settlers in Kentucky.
But singularly (and yet perhaps it was not singular either), the same misfortune overtook him that befell Daniel Boone and so many others of the pioneers.
The rapacious speculators, by their superior cunning, got all his land away from him, until he was not worth a farthing. Worse than that they brought him in debt, and his body was taken upon the covenants in deeds to lands, which he had in point of fact given away. He was imprisoned for a full year on the very spot where he built his cabin in 1775, and planted the first corn planted north of the Kentucky River by a white man, and where for many a time he had braved hunger, death, and undergone suffering in its most frightful forms.
He was literally reduced to beggary by the cruel rapacity of the land sharks, and in 1802 he removed to Ohio and settled in Urbana. Kenton's remarkable sweetness of character, despite the fact that he was one of the most terrible of Indian fighters, was such that he scarcely ever uttered a word of complaint. No man had endured more than he for Kentucky and Ohio, and no one had ever been treated more shabbily; yet he loved the "Dark and Bloody Ground" none the less.
His services and his ability were appreciated to that extent in Ohio that he was elected a brigadier-general of militia, three years after his removal to the State. Five years later, that is, in 1810, he was converted and joined the Methodist Episcopal Church.
Reverend J. B. Finley, the well known missionary of the West, relates that his father and Kenton met at a camp meeting on the Mad River. They were old friends and the interview was a most pleasant one. The meeting was accompanied by a great awakening, during which Kenton took the elder Finley aside and told him how deeply his heart had been touched, how much he was impressed with his own sinfulness, and how desirous he was of obtaining divine pardon.
He bound the minister to keep the whole matter a secret, and the two knelt down in prayer in the woods. Kenton was speedily converted, and springing to his feet, ran shouting back to camp meeting, with the minister panting after him.
The old Indian fighter outran his pastor, and when Mr. Finley reached his congregation, the other had gathered a great crowd about him, and, with a glowing face, was telling the news of his conversion.
"I thought this was to be a secret," called out Mr. Finley, "and here, General, you are proclaiming it to every one."
"It's too glorious to keep," was the reply of Kenton.
He continued a devout and humble Christian for the rest of his life. His voice was remarkably sweet and musical, and he was fond of singing. He took part in many religious exercises and meetings, and entered into the service of his divine Master with the same ardor he had shown in that of his country, during his early and mature manhood.
In 1813, Kenton joined the Kentucky troops under Governor Shelby, with whose family he was a great favorite. He was then nearly threescore years of age, but he was rugged, strong, and as patriotic as ever. He took part in the battle of the Thames, fighting with the same bravery that was natural to him from boyhood.
It was the last engagement in which he bore a hand, and respecting it the following incident is worthy of note:
In the month of May, 1881, Ayres Lefargee, who died at Poplar Plain, Kentucky, was buried at Decatur, Illinois. He was a soldier of the war of 1812, in the fourth regiment of Kentucky troops under Governor Shelby, and was present at the battle of the Thames in which the great Shawanoe chieftain Tecumseh was killed. After the battle he went with Captain Matthews and Simon Kenton to the spot where the chief fell. "Turn the body over," said Kenton, and, upon Lefargee doing so, they found seven bullet-holes in it. Lefargee always claimed that Tecumseh was killed by a soldier named Dave Gealding.
This question has never been satisfactorily settled, though the claim of Colonel Richard M. Johnson seems as good as that of any one. His horse had fallen, and while he was endeavoring to extricate himself, a distinguished looking Indian who, it was claimed by many that knew him, was Tecumseh, made a rush for Colonel Johnson.
"I didn't stop to ask him his name," said Colonel Johnson, when questioned about it afterwards, "for there was no time for explanations, but I fired, when, had I waited five seconds longer, he would have brained me with his upraised tomahawk."
The war of 1812 finished, Kenton returned to the obscurity of his humble cabin, where he lived until 1820, when he removed to the headwaters of Mad River, Logan county, Ohio, near the very spot where, many years before, he had been tied to the stake by the Indians, when they condemned him to death.
It seemed impossible for the old pioneer to escape the annoyance of the land-sharpers. He was still the owner of many large mountain tracts of Kentucky, but he was "land poor," in its fullest sense, and these were forfeited for taxes.
Kenton became so worn out, and so distressed by poverty, that in 1824, when nearly seventy years old, he rode to Frankfort, while the Legislature was in session, to petition that body to release these comparatively worthless lands from the claims upon them for unpaid taxes.
The old hunter was clothed in dilapidated garments, and his rickety horse looked so woe-begone that the wonder was how he could carry such a large man as he was. But when it became known that Simon Kenton was in town, it caused an excitement like that which the arrival of the menagerie and circus excites.
There was no one in the capital of Kentucky who had not heard of the wonderful exploits of Kenton, and the tall handsome figure of the hunter, with his mild prepossessing features, would have attracted attention anywhere. It was hard to believe that this old gentleman with his gentle blue eyes, his soft musical voice, and his humble Christian bearing, was the hurricane-like fighter, who had torn the reeking scalp from the head of the fierce savage, who had run the gauntlet more than once, who had trailed the red Indian through the gloomy depths of the forest and who had lived in the wilderness in storm and sunshine, week after week and month after month, when he never closed his eyes with certainty he would not be awakened for an instant by the crash of the tomahawk as it clove his skull in twain.
But this was Simon Kenton, and the crowds began to gather. General Thomas Fletcher recognized him and donned him in a good respectable suit of clothing. Then he was taken to the Capitol and placed in the Speaker's chair, where the multitude, in which were the legislators and the most prominent citizens, filed through the building, and were introduced to the great adventurer, who smilingly shook their hands, exchanged a few pleasant words, and blushed like a school boy.
It was the proudest day of Simon Kenton's life, and he had every reason to look back to it with delight, for it resulted in substantial benefit to him.
His presence called up so vividly the great services he had rendered the State, and the burning injustice he had suffered, that the legislators at once released all his lands from the tax claims, and shortly after, through the exertions of Judge Burnet and General Vance, of Congress, a pension of two hundred and forty dollars a year was obtained for the old hero, who was thus secured against want for the remainder of his life.
Kenton now lived a quiet life, serene and hopeful, and quietly contemplating the end which he knew was close at hand. He was held in the greatest respect and the strongest affection by his numerous friends, while Kentucky itself felt a pride in the brave hunter, scout and pioneer.
It will be remembered by the reader, that on the 4th of November, 1782, Simon Kenton became a party to an agreement of singular and romantic interest.
During the expedition of General Clark against the Indian towns, Kenton as usual acted as guide to the army, which numbered fifteen hundred men. On the return of the force, the pioneers which composed it came to a halt, opposite the Licking, and held a conference. Captain McCracken, of the Kentucky Light Horse, had received a slight wound in the arm while fighting, and which caused him little concern at the time. But a virulent mortification had set in, and it became evident to all that he had but a short time to live. At his suggestion, Colonel Floyd brought forward the resolution by which the pioneers who might survive agreed to meet on that same spot, a half century later, to talk over old times.
The meeting was held in the unbroken wilderness, abounding with its game and with the fierce red man; and the pioneers were in the flush and vigor of young manhood, with many years of hard, perilous service before them. They all felt that such as should be spared to see the closing of the half century before them, would witness changes and developments in their beloved country, such as awed the imagination when it attempted to grasp it.
On that lonely spot, where McCracken closed his eyes and was laid mournfully away in his last long rest by his brave brother pioneers, was the heart of the magnificently growing West. His grave was in sight of the beautiful Queen city, and the howling wilderness now blossomed as the rose.
As the semi-centennial approached, it was looked forward to with a strong interest by the survivors, who were found to be quite numerous. The lives which these hardy pioneers led were conducive to longevity, provided always the wild Indians afforded the opportunity and failed to cut them off in their prime.
"And tall and strong and swift of foot are they,
Beyond the dwarfing city's pale abortions,
Because their thoughts had never been the prey
Of care or gain; the green woods were their portions;
No sinking spirits told them they grew gray,
No fashions made them apes of her distortions.
Simple they were, not savage; and their rifles,
Though very true, were not yet used for trifles.
"Motion was in their days, rest in their slumbers,
And cheerfulness the handmaid of their toil.
Nor yet too many nor too few their numbers;
Corruption could not make their hearts her soil;
The lust which stings, the splendor which encumbers,
With the free foresters divide no spoil;
Serene, not sullen, were the solitudes
Of this unsighing people of the woods."
As the semi-centennial approached, Simon Kenton, who had passed his fourscore, was deeply solicitous lest he should not be able to be present. He was desirous that every survivor should be at the gathering, and published an address in which he said:
"Fellow Citizens:—Being one of the first, after Colonel Daniel Boone, who aided in the conquest of Kentucky and the West, I am called upon to address you. My heart melts on such an occasion; I look forward to the contemplated meeting with melancholy pleasure; it has caused tears to flow in copious showers. I wish to see once more before I die, my few surviving friends. My solemn promise, made fifty years ago, binds me to meet them. I ask not for myself; but you may find in our assembly some who have never received any pay or pension, who have sustained the cause of their country equal to any other service, and who in the decline of their life are poor. Then, you prosperous sons of the West, forget not those old and gray-headed veterans on this occasion; let them return to their families with some little manifestations of your kindness to cheer their hearts.
"I may add my prayer: may kind Heaven grant us a clear sky, fair and pleasant weather, a safe journey, and a happy meeting and a smile upon us and our families, and bless us and our nation on the approaching occasion.
"SIMON KENTON.
"Urbana, Ohio, 1832."
The year 1832 will be recognized as the terrible cholera season, when the pestilence smote the land and the whole country was in mourning. Men shrank appalled as the multitudes sank on their right and left, and business for the time was paralyzed by the awful scourge which swept from one end of the land to the other.
Cincinnati was shrouded in deepest gloom by the ravages of the fearful disease, yet when the anniversary came round a large number of the old pioneers met, and the Corporation voted them a dinner.
General Simon Kenton, in spite of his anxiety to be present, was unable to appear, owing to his feebleness and indisposition of body. His absence was greatly mourned, for he would have been the prince of all that noble band, could his venerable form have appeared among them.
With Kenton the sunset of life was as quiet and serene as the close of a summer day. In the month of April, 1836, he quietly died in his home, surrounded by his affectionate family, friends and neighbors, and supported by the sublime faith of the meek, devout Christian, who joyfully approaches the dark river and launches out for the other shore.