Daniel Boone, Backwoodsman

by C. H. Forbes-Lindsay

General Clark’s expedition was the last occasion on which Daniel Boone was called upon to fight in the defence of the settlements of Kentucky. He had been among the earliest explorers of the country. He had led one of the first parties of settlers into it. His rifle had been constantly at the service of the harassed backwoodsmen and his counsel had guided their leaders. None had made greater sacrifices for the territory than he, and none reaped less benefit. He had lost a son at the very threshold of the promised land, and another had fallen in the final fight. His brother Squire had been scalped at the Blue Licks, and there his brother Samuel was sorely stricken. And yet, when the period of strife and stress had passed and the country presented a peaceful picture of well-tilled fields and cheery cabins, Boone’s sole possession was his good name and his trusty rifle. He had not an acre to transmit to his children, nor a habitation he could call his own. He was a mere squatter among men who held their lands in security largely by reason of his determined efforts.

It was not, however, until some time after this that Boone learned that through ignorance of legal requirements and characteristic simplicity, he had failed to make good his title to the land he occupied. For several years he cultivated his farm and in the hunting season followed his favorite pursuit.

In the meantime the population of Kentucky was rapidly increasing. Towns were springing up at various points and a considerable trade in furs and merchandise developed. The settlers lived in comparative peace, but they were by no means exempt from attack by hostile Indians. It is believed that between the years 1783 and 1790 no fewer than fifteen hundred persons were either killed or carried into captivity by small bands of redskins that made stealthy inroads into Kentucky. One such incident must be mentioned in detail.

The Indians probably held Boone in higher estimation than they did any other man among the Kentuckians, and this was particularly the case with the Shawnees, who were best acquainted with him, having thrice had him in their power. A few years after the affair of the Blue Licks they conceived the idea of again trying to capture Boone. Four of the most agile and wily braves were assigned to the task.

Although he did not use the weed, Boone had a patch of tobacco upon his farm with a view to meeting the market demand for the leaf. A short distance from his cabin was a small shed in which he cured his crop. Around the inside of the shed was a construction of rails twelve or fifteen feet in height. Poles were laid upon these so as to extend across the hut. Upon the poles were spread stacks of leaves in three tiers, representing three different stages of curing.

Boone was one day at work in this shed. On the lower tiers was a large quantity of dry tobacco which the farmer required to move to the uppermost poles in order to make room for fresh leaves. He was standing upon the rails that supported the poles and just about to enter into his task when four Indians, carrying rifles, entered the place.

“Now we got you, Boone,” cried the leader. “We carry you back to Chillicothe and you never get away again.”

The days were past when the settler constantly had his gun beside him. Boone was unarmed, but he did not exhibit the slightest uneasiness. He kept his position and looked down upon the redskins with a pleasant smile.

“Well, well! Is that you, Pewultee?” he cried, recognizing one of the sons of old Blackfish. “How is the squaw and how are the papooses? How is everyone at Chillicothe? I think I should like to see them all again.”

The Indians expressed some impatience to have Boone come down, but his manner was so cordial that they fell under its spell as of old. He assured them that he would descend in a few minutes but begged them to wait until he should have finished his work. He kept up a running fire of talk about the old times, about adventures and fights that he and they had taken part in. The savages were soon absorbed in the conversation. They stood leaning upon their rifles and gazing up intently at the speaker.