"'At the rising of the sun, I was on foot, and after a good deal of musing, thought that an ash-tree then in sight must be the very one on which I had made my mark. I felt as if there could be no doubt of it, and mentioned my thought to Mr. ——. 'Well, Colonel Boone,' said he, 'if you think so, I hope it may prove true, but we must have some witnesses; do you stay hereabout, and I will go and bring some of the settlers whom I know.' I agreed. Mr. —— trotted off, and I, to pass the time, rambled about to see whether a deer was still living in the land. But ah! sir, what a wonderful difference thirty years make in a country! Why, at the time I was caught by the Indians, you would not have walked out in any direction for more than a mile without shooting a buck or a bear. There were then thousands of buffaloes on the hills of Kentucky; the land looked as if it never would become poor; and to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. But when I was left to myself on the banks of Green River, I dare say for the last time in my life, a few signs only of deer were to be seen, and, as to a deer itself, I saw none.
"'Mr. —— returned, accompanied by three gentlemen. They looked upon me as if I had been Washington himself, and walked to the ash-tree, which I now called my own, as if in quest of a long-lost treasure. I took an axe from one of them, and cut a few chips off the bark. Still no signs were to be seen. So I cut again until I thought it was time to be cautious, and I scraped and worked away with my butcher-knife until I did come to where my tomahawk had left an impression in the wood. We now went regularly to work, and scraped at the tree with care until three hacks, as plain as any three notches ever were, could be seen. Mr. —— and the other gentlemen were astonished, and I must allow I was as much surprised as pleased myself. I made affidavit of this remarkable occurrence in presence of these gentlemen. Mr. —— gained the cause. I left Green River forever, and came to where we now are; and, sir, I wish you a good night.'"
* * * * *
Spain seemed glad to do honor to the great pioneer, Daniel Boone, who was so well known at that time, that no less a poet than Lord Byron rendered tribute to his daring and achievements. Spain gave him a tract of land, numbering 8,500 acres, which was meant as a recognition of his services to the government. The law as it then existed, required, in order to make his title good, that the grant should be confirmed by the representative of the crown at New Orleans, and another condition was that the grantee should reside upon it himself.
As it would have been inconvenient on the part of Boone to comply with the latter provision, the commandant at St Louis, who was his warm friend, assured him that his title could be perfected without acceding to the requirement.
Boone's dear experience in Kentucky should have been remembered, but he left everything to his friends, and when Louisiana came into the possession of the United States, it was found that Boone had not the shadow of a legal title to the lands presented him, and the commissioners had no choice, according to their instructions, but to reject his claim entirely.
This was a serious blow, but the only one who could be censured was Boone himself. However, there was no fear of his coming to want, for he not only had a large number of immediate relatives, all of whom were strongly attached to him, but the States of Kentucky and Missouri would never permit any such disgrace.
Boone liked Missouri, for the people were kind and hospitable and game was plenty. He could never lose his fondness for the woods, and as the beaver were numerous and their furs valuable, he made considerable money by gathering and selling the peltries.
At the end of several years he had amassed enough funds to carry out an intention which does him great credit. When he removed from Kentucky he was obliged to leave several debts behind him, the memory of which disturbed him not a little. He now made a journey to the State, where he paid every creditor in full, and returned to Missouri with just half a dollar in his pocket.
"Now I am ready to die," said he; "I have paid all my debts, and when I am gone, no one shall be able to say I was a dishonest man."