He bound the minister to keep the whole matter a secret, and the two knelt down in prayer in the woods. Kenton was speedily converted, and springing to his feet, ran shouting back to camp meeting, with the minister panting after him.
The old Indian fighter outran his pastor, and when Mr. Finley reached his congregation, the other had gathered a great crowd about him, and, with a glowing face, was telling the news of his conversion.
"I thought this was to be a secret," called out Mr. Finley, "and here, General, you are proclaiming it to every one."
"It's too glorious to keep," was the reply of Kenton.
He continued a devout and humble Christian for the rest of his life. His voice was remarkably sweet and musical, and he was fond of singing. He took part in many religious exercises and meetings, and entered into the service of his divine Master with the same ardor he had shown in that of his country, during his early and mature manhood.
In 1813, Kenton joined the Kentucky troops under Governor Shelby, with whose family he was a great favorite. He was then nearly threescore years of age, but he was rugged, strong, and as patriotic as ever. He took part in the battle of the Thames, fighting with the same bravery that was natural to him from boyhood.
It was the last engagement in which he bore a hand, and respecting it the following incident is worthy of note:
In the month of May, 1881, Ayres Lefargee, who died at Poplar Plain, Kentucky, was buried at Decatur, Illinois. He was a soldier of the war of 1812, in the fourth regiment of Kentucky troops under Governor Shelby, and was present at the battle of the Thames in which the great Shawanoe chieftain Tecumseh was killed. After the battle he went with Captain Matthews and Simon Kenton to the spot where the chief fell. "Turn the body over," said Kenton, and, upon Lefargee doing so, they found seven bullet-holes in it. Lefargee always claimed that Tecumseh was killed by a soldier named Dave Gealding.
This question has never been satisfactorily settled, though the claim of Colonel Richard M. Johnson seems as good as that of any one. His horse had fallen, and while he was endeavoring to extricate himself, a distinguished looking Indian who, it was claimed by many that knew him, was Tecumseh, made a rush for Colonel Johnson.
"I didn't stop to ask him his name," said Colonel Johnson, when questioned about it afterwards, "for there was no time for explanations, but I fired, when, had I waited five seconds longer, he would have brained me with his upraised tomahawk."