Daniel Boone, Backwoodsman

by C. H. Forbes-Lindsay

A few months later a more serious assault was made upon Boonesborough. Had they but known it, the Indians could hardly have chosen a less propitious date than the fourth of July for such a venture, but it was on that day that a band of two hundred warriors made its appearance before the fort. They seem to have been particularly anxious to reduce the place, which they doubtless knew was commanded by the great chief, Daniel Boone. Detachments had been sent to make feints against the other stations, in order to prevent their extending relief to Boonesborough.

At the outset, the whites came near to suffering what would have been an irreparable loss not only to them but to the settlers in general. On the morning after the arrival of the besiegers, Boone, being anxious to learn something of their numbers and disposition, left the stockade just before daybreak and made a reconnoissance of the Indian camp. The day dawned to find him still several hundred yards from the fort. He was picking his way cautiously, taking advantage of all the cover available, when an Indian discovered him. The redskin fired and hit Boone upon the ankle.

Short of a mortal wound, nothing could have been more effective than this ill-aimed bullet. Boone fell to the earth heavily, and as he did so his trusty rifle escaped from his grasp and flew to some distance. He was unable to rise and utterly helpless. The Indian, seeing his plight, advanced rapidly with uplifted tomahawk to despatch him, and Boone calmly awaited what he believed to be his end.

But the watchful eye of Kenton had noted the incident and Boone had hardly fallen when the scout was outside the stockade and speeding towards the spot with the swiftness of the deer. As soon as the Indian came into the open, Kenton stopped, took aim, and at the moment that the redskin reached the side of his intended victim sent a bullet through his brain. Kenton was now little more than one hundred yards from Boone, but by this time a number of warriors had appeared at the edge of the clearing. There was not a second to be lost and, although he appeared to be rushing into the jaws of death, Kenton flung aside his gun and flew to the spot where Boone lay anxiously awaiting the issue.

At the same instant several Indians bounded forward, yelling and brandishing their weapons. They had advanced but a few yards when a dozen rifles in the stockade spoke and four of the redskins fell. The others hastily regained cover and turned their weapons upon the gallant ranger who was in the act of lifting Boone onto his serviceable leg. Half carried by his rescuer, Boone hopped slowly to the gate of the fort, while a shower of bullets played unceasingly around. The half light favored the wounded man and his companion, who gained the shelter of the stockade without being touched.

Boone was a reticent man, estimating his own deeds lightly and little given to bestowing praise on others. But the splendid courage, strength and skill displayed by Kenton in this dashing exploit excited unwonted emotion in the great pioneer and he expressed his admiration and gratitude in the warmest terms. He recognized in the young, debonair scout a man after his own heart and one of his own kind. Ever after this episode Boone and Kenton were the fastest friends.

During the ensuing months, whilst his wound was slowly healing, Boone took up his quarters in the upper story of one of the blockhouses, where he could command the scene and direct the defence in case of another attack. But the experience of the Indians on this occasion, which included the loss of seven of their number, appears to have cooled their ambition to take Boonesborough, and that place enjoyed a respite during the remainder of the year, although attacks were made at intervals upon other stations.

Salt was always one of the prime needs of the settlers, as it had been when they dwelt farther back in the borderland. To secure it now from the coast towns was a matter of much greater difficulty than it had been then. Resort was had to the simpler method of manufacturing the coveted commodity from the waters of the salt licks in which the territory of Kentucky abounded. At first this was accomplished in a manner far from satisfactory, owing to imperfect knowledge of the process and lack of proper utensils. But just about this time the authorities in Virginia sent out a number of kettles and two experienced salt-makers.

In view of the prospect of further hostilities, and perhaps protracted sieges, it was determined to lay in a large stock of salt. The men of the station were divided into two parties, which were to go out in turns and manufacture the material. As there was less danger of attack by Indians in the dead of winter than later on, Boone decided to take command of the first party, so that he might be at the fort with the opening of spring.

On the first day of the year 1778, Captain Boone with thirty men and the necessary utensils left Boonesborough and set out for the Lower Blue Licks, fifty or more miles to the north. Here they established a camp and set to work. From time to time a small party was sent to the fort with the pack-horses laden with salt. On their return they brought back supplies of parched corn and, perhaps, a few of the simple comforts that the hardy backwoodsmen looked upon almost in the light of superfluous luxuries. Thus the work progressed satisfactorily and the six weeks’ spell, at the end of which time the party was to be relieved, approached its termination.