It was now or never with Boone: if his escape was to prove of any benefit to others than himself, it would not do to delay it any longer. The settlers were unaware of their danger and unless duly warned, were likely to fall victims to Shawanoe cunning and atrocity.
Boone determined to leave within the succeeding twenty-four hours, no matter how desperate the chance, and once beyond sight of his captors, he would push forward night and day until he could reach Boonesborough.
But eager as he was to go, no opportunity presented itself that day or evening. His active brain continued busily at work, and, before he closed his eyes in snatches of fitful slumber, he had decided on the course to pursue.
He rose early the next morning, and started out for a short hunt, as he had frequently done, for such a stratagem promised to give him more chance of getting a good start of his pursuers, it being naturally supposed that the hour of a hunter's return is one of the most uncertain occurrences in this world.
The pioneer was one hundred and sixty miles from Boonesborough, but he was scarcely out of sight of the Indians, when he headed straight for the settlement, and ran like a man who realizes it is a case of life and death. It was a long distance to tramp, where the need was so urgent, but the fugitive was spurred on by the strongest of all incentives.
He did not spare himself. He had concealed enough for one meal about his person before starting, and this was all he ate while making the long journey occupying five days. He did not dare to stop long enough to shoot any game, for fear his pursuers would be upon him. He took many precautions to conceal his trail, but was fearful that the piercing eyes of the Shawanoes would not be deceived. He was apprehensive, too, that if he should fire his gun, the report would bring his vengeful captors upon him.
Climbing some elevation, he looked searchingly back over the route traveled, for sight of the smoke of the tell-tale camp-fire, or that of the moving figures close on his trail.
But he saw none, and at the close of the fifth day, tired, hungry, and worn, he made his appearance in front of the Boonesborough stockade and was admitted with amazement and delight by his friends, who believed he had been killed long before. So general, indeed, was this belief in his death that his wife and family had moved back to their home in North Carolina some time previous.
Just as he had feared, he found the station in the very condition to fall a prey to the Indians. Its immunity from attack for months previous had induced carelessness and indifference, and had the immense war party of Shawanoes appeared at the same time with the pioneer, the fort could not have held out an hour before a vigorous attack.
But Boone's presence inspired courage, and the garrison and settlers set to work instantly. Everything was done to put the station in the best possible state for defence. There was not an hour to lose, for it was supposed the savages would be directly upon the heels of the pioneer, and a constant and vigilant lookout was maintained.