Daniel Boone, Backwoodsman

by C. H. Forbes-Lindsay

The country in which Boone and his companions found themselves differed greatly from the gloomy, forest-covered region that they had left. Here were extensive forests, it is true, but they were not so dense as those along the Alleghanies, and furthermore they were interspersed with stretches of fertile plain and valleys of succulent grass. Hill and vale, river-bottom and prairie, timber-land and cane-brake, succeeded one another in pleasing variety and offered the widest opportunities for agricultural pursuits. Game was so plentiful that the settler might almost shoot it from his door-sill, but this very abundance induced to reckless and unnecessary killing, with the result that in a few years there was an actual scarcity and more than once the little community was hard pressed to secure a sufficient supply of food. The wanton killing of game continued until recent years.

Settlers were allowed to acquire lands on very easy terms. An advertisement inserted by Henderson in the newspapers of Virginia stated that: “Any person who will settle on and inhabit the same before the first day of June, 1776, shall have the privilege of taking up and surveying for himself five hundred acres, and for each tithable person he may carry with him and settle there, two hundred and fifty acres, on the payment of fifty shillings sterling per hundred, subject to a yearly quit-rent of two shillings, like money, to commence in the year 1780.” The deeds required the holders of the lands to pay this nominal rent “yearly and every year for ever,” so that had the Company’s title been confirmed, a large portion of Kentucky might have been subject to proprietary control at this day.

Having selected his land, the settler proceeded to clear it of timber and brush and to erect upon it a cabin. In this work he was aided by his neighbors, and himself stood ready to help the next comer. The farms were widely separated from one another and were in many cases situated several miles from the town or fort. Families lived upon them in times of quiet and almost invariably in the winter, when it was the habit of the Indians to retire to their villages. During troublous periods, one half of the men were engaged in scouting and guarding the settlement, whilst the other half tilled the ground. Often runners would make the rounds of the outlying farms warning the occupants of impending attack. There might not be a moment to spare, in which case all the worldly possessions of the family would be abandoned and they would make a hasty retreat to the stockaded village.

Doctor Doddridge, who was born and reared on the frontier says: “I well remember that when a little boy the family were sometimes waked up in the dead of night by an express with a report that the Indians were at hand. The express came softly to the door or back window, and by gently tapping waked the family; this was easily done, as an habitual fear made us ever watchful and sensible to the slightest alarm. The whole family were instantly in motion: my father seized his gun and other implements of war; my stepmother waked up and dressed the children as well as she could; and being myself the oldest of the children, I had to take my share of the burthens to be carried to the fort. There was no possibility of getting a horse in the night to aid us in removing to the fort; besides the little children, we caught up what articles of clothing and provisions we could get hold of in the dark, for we durst not light a candle or even stir the fire. All this was done with the utmost despatch and the silence of death; the greatest care was taken not to awaken the youngest child; to the rest it was enough to say ‘Indian,’ and not a whimper was heard afterwards. Thus it often happened that the whole number of families belonging to a fort, who were in the evening at their homes, were all in their little fortress before the dawn of the next morning. In the course of the succeeding day their household furniture was brought in by parties of the men under arms.”

On the other hand, it frequently happened that when the assembled settlers looked round after such a hasty gathering, it was discovered that one or another family was missing. Then a party of men would go out after them and, if fortunate, bring them in, but it might be that they had wandered from the trail in the darkness and become lost, or that they had encountered the savages and been massacred. Some men of reckless disposition would not leave their cabins until actually forced to do so by the approach of the enemy, or would return to their farms before the removal of danger. Such individuals caused serious trouble to the settlers with whom they were associated and often jeopardized their safety.

Such warnings as we have described were attendant upon the advance of the Indians in force, but the lone cultivator, upon his isolated farm, was in constant danger of attack from small bands or single savages that skulked unseen through the forest. The clearing was generally surrounded by woods or thicket that afforded ample cover to the foe in his stealthy approach. The settler, driving his team along the furrow, never knew but that watchful eyes were following his every movement, awaiting the opportunity for a favorable shot at him. His boy, going to the spring for water, might be suddenly seized from behind, gagged before he could utter a sound, and carried away to meet a cruel death, or to be brought up in some Indian’s wigwam. The mother, standing in the doorway of the cabin, oblivious to all danger, might be shot through the heart in the very sight of her husband. Perhaps, when the head of the family was away on a short hunt, or a trip to the fort, a party of Indians who had patiently awaited the chance for days would make an attack on the cabin. If the occupants had time to throw the heavy bolts across the door, there was a fair chance of their beating off the assailants, even though their success depended upon the courage of one woman and a half-grown boy. Many a thrilling border story turns upon the heroism of frontier women and children under such circumstances.

A typical affair of the kind occurred in Nelson County, Kentucky, during the year 1791. A party of about a score of Indians attacked the cabin of a settler named Merrill. The place was at some distance from the nearest habitation and no help could reasonably be looked for. The family were taken entirely unawares, the first intimation of the presence of the dreaded redskins being a volley from the neighboring brush aimed at the father who was working near his home. He fell grievously wounded but contrived to struggle to his feet and staggered into the cabin with the foremost savage at his heels. The wife of the settler succeeded, however, in closing the door and throwing the heavy bar across it, before the Indian could enter. Meanwhile, her husband sank helpless upon the floor.

The defence of the home now depended upon the woman and her son and daughter, neither of whom was much more than a child. But the desperate situation did not daunt the brave mother. She seized an axe and prepared to defend the family as best she might with it. There were no firearms in the cabin. Merrill, after the manner of backwoodsmen of the time, had carried his rifle to work with him and after being hit had been unable to regain it from the tree against which it had been placed.

The assailants at once began to hack an opening in the door with their tomahawks and of course the defenders were unable to offer any obstruction to this proceeding. At length a hole was made big enough for a man to squeeze through and one of the savages entered the room by this means. The woman stood beside the door with axe poised and as soon as the Indian was fairly inside, but before he could rise to his feet, she brought the weapon crashing down upon his skull. He expired with scarce a groan.

Close behind the first intruder followed a second. He met with a similar fate and so with a third and a fourth. Each had entered as fast as the way became clear and the death-blows had been delivered swiftly and surely. The Indians now began to suspect that something untimely had befallen their fellows and before another essayed to enter the house they made a cautious survey through the crevice of the door. By the fitful light of the fire four motionless figures stretched upon the floor were discernible and their fate was easily surmised.