Daniel Boone, Backwoodsman

by C. H. Forbes-Lindsay

Simon Kenton was a born backwoodsman. He first saw the light of day in a little cabin on the borders of Virginia. His boyhood was that common to frontier children—a little schooling, a good deal of hard work, and a fair admixture of adventure. When only sixteen years old he was attracted by the charms of a young girl in the settlement. This aroused the resentment of a youth several years older than Kenton, who imagined that he had engaged the affections of the backwoods maiden, although she would not admit as much. As Kenton declined to abandon his suit, the rivals determined to settle the matter by one of the fist fights that were not uncommon incidents of border life.

The encounter took place in the presence of the assembled settlers, as was usual. Kenton made a plucky stand, but in the end was beaten by the man, who had immeasurably the advantage of him in physical development. He accepted his defeat cheerfully but a year later, when he had grown into a muscular giant of six feet, he challenged his former antagonist to try conclusions once more. The other was a powerful man and readily accepted the cartel.

These backwoods fights were often terrible affairs. Everything short of the use of weapons was permissible, and the participants were frequently seriously injured. In this instance, the former victor was fired by intense hatred for Kenton, who was determined on this occasion to win. The conflict which ensued was terrifically fierce. At first the younger man got the worst of it and was severely hurt, but his courage continued unabated. He renewed the struggle, and in the end so beat his antagonist that he lay unconscious.

Kenton looked down at the prostrate form in horror, fully believing it to be that of a dead man. Then he turned and fled with all the speed possible, stopping only to snatch up his rifle and ammunition from the stump upon which they lay. So convinced was he that the sheriff with a posse would shortly be in pursuit of him that he continued his flight with little cessation for two days.

On the third day Kenton, still apprehensive and downcast, was traversing the forest in an unsettled part of the country when his eye was suddenly gladdened by the sight of a man upon the trail ahead of him. The stranger proved to be a wanderer named Johnson, as homeless and as careless of his destination as was Kenton. Each man was glad of the prospect of company and after a brief comparison of notes they agreed to become partners, as they say in the West.

These two travelled in company for some weeks and until they reached a settlement on the Monongahela, where Kenton decided to stop. This decision was prompted by learning that two young men at the place, named Strader and Yager, contemplated a journey into Kentucky and were willing that he should join them. The three set out shortly afterwards and for a year or more they lived in the wilderness, hunting and trapping, and selling their peltries to traders at Fort Pitt.

They had not been troubled by Indians, and had come to consider themselves safe from their attacks. Of this belief, however, they were rudely disabused one evening in March, 1773. As they sat in their “open-face” cabin, utterly unmindful of danger, a volley was suddenly fired at them from the surrounding thicket. Strader, who was the most exposed, instantly fell dead, riddled with bullets. The other two leaped to their feet and dashed into the neighboring cover without even taking time to pick up their rifles.

The dusk and heavy undergrowth aided their escape and they were soon beyond the reach of their pursuers. But, though the immediate prospect of death had been averted, these men found themselves in the most perilous situation. The onslaught had happened at a time when their belts and weapons were laid aside. They had now nothing with which to defend themselves against the possible attacks of Indians or wild beasts. They lacked provisions and blankets, and had not even a tinder-box with which to make a fire.

They did not, however, abandon themselves to despair, but struck out in the direction of the Ohio, hoping to reach a settlement before their strength should give out. For days they subsisted upon roots and the bark of trees, and at night huddled together in the brush with shaking limbs, for the weather was unusually cold. Gradually weakness stole upon them and on the third day both were seized with violent cramps and nausea, probably in consequence of having swallowed some poisonous substance. Before the close of the fourth day they fell exhausted to the ground and for the first time despaired of going farther, but with the dawn of the morrow their strength and spirits were sufficiently revived to enable them to make another effort. With slow and trembling steps they painfully pursued the way and in a few hours’ time came upon a party of traders.