[II.]
HARDY GOODFELLOW
Boone leads a company toward the promised land of Kentucky—They are attacked by Indians in Powell’s Valley—Six of the party are slain and among them Boone’s eldest son—The sorrow of a strong man and his sense of duty—The dead are buried and the march resumed—Boone’s lonely watch over the sleeping settlers—His encounter with Hardy Goodfellow in the gray dawn—“Now that father’s dead, I’m all alone”—Hardy finds a new father and Boone another son—Man and boy make a strange compact—“Maybe the Lord meant it that way—who knows?”
“Isn’t it about time to make camp, Captain?”
“Pretty near that, but I don’t exactly fancy campin’ right on a trace. I reckon we’ll push on a bit and see if we can’t find a likelier location.”
The first speaker was not a backwoodsman but a Charlestown surveyor. The day’s march had wearied him to the point of exhaustion, and he felt faint for lack of a good meal, for the frontiersman ate plenteously but once in the twenty-four hours and that at the close of the day. He turned to his pipe for solace, first offering his plug of strong tobacco to his companion.
“Have a fill, Captain?”
“Thanks; I don’t use it.”
“You don’t smoke, Captain?” said the other, in astonishment.