Daniel Boone, Backwoodsman

by C. H. Forbes-Lindsay

This experience decided Yager to return to civilization, but Kenton, as soon as he had recovered his strength and had secured a rifle and ammunition, bade the party farewell and plunged again into the recesses of the wilderness. The next year he spent, for the most part alone, hunting and exploring the country. In the spring, Dunmore’s War broke out and Kenton performed valuable services as a scout, this being his first employment in that capacity. It was during this campaign that he became acquainted with Simon Girty, the notorious renegade, and rendered him a signal service. Girty professed the greatest friendship for Kenton and his after conduct proved the sincerity of his declaration.

Upon his return from a reconnoissance in the Indian country, Kenton, when about to cross the Ohio into Kentucky, was captured by a band that had suffered recent defeat by the whites and was consequently in a ferocious mood. Their temper was not improved by the severe injuries that the scout inflicted on some of their number before he could be subdued. Few men on the frontier could command the cool common-sense that unfailingly characterized Boone in a critical situation. He would fight against the heaviest odds whilst any hope of success existed, but once convinced of the futility of resistance, he avoided creating unnecessary rancor by continuing it. Kenton on this occasion fought like a catamount and so aroused the resentment of his assailants that when they had disarmed him they continued to lay on their clubs and tomahawks until he lapsed into unconsciousness.

When the scout came to his senses, he found himself “spread-eagled,” face downwards upon the earth. His arms and legs had been extended and pegged down so that the body lay in the form of a Maltese cross. The position did not permit of any movement save that of slightly raising the head. As time wore on the body became filled with excruciating pains and Kenton passed the night in intense suffering. He did not doubt that he was reserved for worse tortures. Otherwise the Indians would have vented their anger by killing him.

In the morning the party took up the march after strapping Kenton along the bare back of an unbroken horse. All day his limbs were racked by the fresh pains of this cruel mode of progression, and at night he was crucified as before. This march, with its unceasingly attendant agonies, continued for three days and nights. On the fourth the Indians arrived at the village of Chillicothe. By this time Kenton would have welcomed death, but he was to endure much more.

After his captors had refreshed themselves with food and rest, the entire population of the place assembled in the great square and Kenton was led forth to afford amusement for them. After he had been subjected to the jibes and floutings of the children and squaws, he was bound to a post and flogged upon the bare back with switches until the blood flowed copiously. Meanwhile the redskins danced around him, howling with demoniac delight. But they tired of this pastime when it was found impossible to extract a cry of pain from the victim.

Kenton was now led to the stake, stripped of his clothing and bound with hands extended above his head. Faggots were heaped about his feet and all the preparations completed for burning him. At this juncture the Indians seemed to waver in their purpose. The chief men withdrew, leaving the scout to the spiteful persecution of the villagers, who found a fiendish pleasure in pulling his hair, pricking him with knives, and beating him with sticks and clubs. This continued until nightfall, when Kenton was released from his bonds and removed under a strong guard to one of the wigwams.

The next morning he realized why he had been spared from the flames on the previous day. The chiefs had declared that it would be a pity to dispose finally of so strong a man until he had been subjected to all the torture he was capable of enduring. He was now condemned to “run the gantlet,” and when he emerged from the cabin in which he had passed the night he saw the painted warriors assembled and ready to perform their part in the affair.

Across the square two lines of braves were drawn up, facing inwards, with a space of about six feet between them. Each was furnished with a club, tomahawk, or leathern thong. Kenton was required to traverse this lane of inhuman wretches whilst they rained blows upon him in passing. This cruel pastime of the Indians was not designed to kill the victim, but many a man sank dead before going through the ordeal and none completed it without receiving the most severe injuries.

Kenton was a swift runner but as he looked down that double row of waiting warriors, more than one hundred yards in length, he determined not to attempt its entire passage. When he started at the utmost speed he could command, it was with eyes alert for a gap in the line through which he might make his escape. The opportunity offered when he had covered about half the distance. Dashing through the opening, he dodged the Indians who attempted to intercept him and took refuge in the council-house. Of course he was soon once more in the clutches of his tormentors but they did not force him to run the gantlet again. Instead, a council was held to determine his fate. After considerable discussion it was decided that he should be taken to a town named Waughcotomoco and there burned.