On the twentieth day of August the discomfited chiefs, Blackfish and De Quindre, withdrew their forces and took the route to the Indian country. They left with a very wholesome opinion of the prowess of the backwoodsmen, and of the people of Boonesborough in particular. In fact, that place was never again directly attacked by the Indians, who seemed to accept the idea that it was impregnable.
The settlers were now justified in the belief that they would be left in peace for some months at least. Small bodies of marauding redskins might molest isolated individuals and families, but after such a crushing defeat as they had experienced the chiefs would not be willing to plant the war-post again for some time. Gladly the backwoodsmen, who detested confinement, went out to their clearings. There they found things in a sorry state. The Indians had burned the cabins, killed the cattle, and destroyed the growing crops. But these incidents the hardy frontiersmen accepted as part of the necessary conditions of their adventurous lives, and they set cheerfully about repairing the damage.
Shortly after the siege the trial by court-martial, from which Boone emerged so triumphantly, took place. At its conclusion he set out alone upon the long journey to the Yadkin, with a view to bringing his family back to Kentucky. We may imagine the joy of the wife and children upon being reunited to the beloved one whom they had mourned as dead.
[XIV.]
KENTON’S STORY
Simon Kenton’s boyhood—His fight for a sweetheart—His defeat and his victory—Flight into the wilderness—Three adventures in Kentucky—Attack by the Indians and the death of Strader—A terrible journey and a timely rescue—Kenton is captured by the Indians—He is tortured and made to run the gauntlet—He is sentenced to be burned at the stake—Girty saves his old comrade’s life—Kenton is sent to Logan’s village and befriended by the great chief—Again he is doomed to death by torture—And finds a new friend in a British agent—He goes to Detroit a prisoner of war—Escapes with the aid of a trader’s wife—And at last finds himself safe in Kentucky.
During Boone’s captivity Hardy had attached himself to Kenton, and when the former went upon his journey to North Carolina these two became inseparable companions. Neither had any work to do at Boonesborough. Hardy was too young to take up land and Kenton lacked the desire to do so. His occupation was scouting. When Indians were in the country he went out and watched their movements, warning the settlements of impending attack. When an expedition into the Indian territory was contemplated, he went in advance and ascertained the state of the intervening country and the condition of the town against which the movement was directed. He preceded armed bodies on the march and guarded them against surprise and ambush. He conducted settlers from one point to another and performed many other services of a similar nature. Kenton was one of a number of scouts whose names are perpetuated in the stories of border adventure. The vocation demanded qualities of the highest order. In order to follow it with success, a man needed to be fearless, vigorous, a good shot, a master of woodcraft; to be familiar with the country over which his operations extended, and to have a thorough knowledge of the Indian character and customs. The scouts were regularly attached to the military establishment, received pay from the authorities, and were amenable to their orders. The militia officers frequently took counsel with them and sometimes entrusted to them important details in the arrangement of an expedition. The calling of scout was a highly responsible and honorable one.
After the Indians retired from Boonesborough Kenton trailed them back to their own country, and returned to report that they had dispersed to their several villages and would probably not be heard from again until after the winter. When Boone went away Kenton and Hardy started upon a long hunt and scout in the country lying south of the Ohio. Now and again they crossed the river and made short excursions into the region inhabited by the redskins. November was drawing to a close when they reappeared at Boonesborough.
The two friends took up their abode in Boone’s cabin for the winter. In the long nights, when the wind whistled around the walls and the wolves howled in the neighboring forest, they sat for hours before the great log fire and exchanged experiences. The scout was glad to learn what Hardy could tell of life in England, and in turn told the story of his adventures. It was a wonderful tale, considering that Kenton was but twenty-three years of age in this year 1778. It was related piecemeal and at many sittings, so that we must be content with a brief résumé of it.