With the increase of population in the colonies and the corresponding increased demand for lands, the border had been steadily pushed forward towards the Indian country. The savages had gradually become alarmed at the threatened invasion of their hunting-grounds and at the time of our story were preparing to contest the advance in force. They had shown many evidences of ill temper, but as yet no open declaration of war had been made. There were frequent conflicts between small parties or individuals of the two races and, in fact, whenever a redman met a white the rifle generally came into immediate play. Now, however, there were indications that the tribes upon the western border were preparing to go on the war-path unitedly.
Although the backwoodsmen were a fine class as a whole, there were among them some ruffians. In the spring of 1774, a band of such men committed a dastardly deed that acted as a firebrand upon the inflammable minds of the Cherokees and Shawnees. This was no less than the cold-blooded and unprovoked murder of the family of Chief Logan. Logan was an Indian of exceptionally fine character and peaceable disposition, and the whites, no less than his own people, deplored the outrage. The Indians were aroused to a pitch of fury. The tomahawk was dug up; the war-pipe was carried through the villages; runners were sent to recall hunting parties; and all the usual preparations for a war to the knife were put in train.
The danger was, of course, greatest on the frontier, and every man and boy who could bear arms was mustered into the militia. Boone received a commission as captain and was given command of three stockaded forts, in one of which Hardy Goodfellow served as rifleman. A few hundred soldiers were distributed among the frontier posts but they were not the valuable accession that might be supposed. The regulars always proved to be much inferior to the Indians in forest fights. The former were brave enough but utterly ignorant of the tactics of backwoods warfare. In conflicts with the savages, one frontiersman was worth a score of redcoats.
But before actual hostilities had broken out, it was found that a company of land prospectors and surveyors were in Kentucky, with great danger of being cut off and massacred. Lord Dunmore, the Governor of Virginia, sent a messenger to the Clinch Valley with the request that Boone and another should go out and endeavor to bring the party back. Boone immediately accepted the dangerous and difficult task and taking with him Michael Stoner, a backwoodsman of experience, started upon the long journey without delay. “If they are alive,” wrote Russell to Colonel Preston, the commandant in the Valley, “it is indisputable but Boone must find them.” So, indeed, he did and accomplished his errand successfully, having travelled upwards of eight hundred miles in sixty-five days, including a halt of more than a week.
A detailed description of Dunmore’s War, as it is called, is not necessary to our story. Suffice it to say that after a fierce battle, in which fifteen hundred braves were opposed by a force of frontiersmen, under General Lewis, the Indians were glad to sue for peace and entered into a treaty waiving all claim to the country now known as Kentucky.
Boone and Hardy, who had their share of the fighting, came through the campaign without serious mishap. Before the close of the year they were cheered by the opening of a prospect of pursuing the desire which both possessed to go on to the fair land of Kentucky.