Scouting with Daniel Boone

by Everett T. Tomlinson

Meanwhile, he talked over these matters in the occasional interviews he was permitted to have with Peleg. Almost all the younger scout knew, however, was that his friend had determined, when the proper time arrived, to flee from the village and warn the settlers of their peril. It was also understood that, after the departure of the scout, if Peleg should see the least opportunity, he, too, would attempt to leave the Indian village.

When June came the great scout saw that the men were preparing for a march within a few days. Whatever he was to do must be done quickly. No opportunity had been granted for a further word with his young friend, when early one morning Boone fled from Chillicothe.

A small piece of jerked venison was all the food he had been able to take with him on his long journey. He was without rifle or knife and before him stretched a pathless forest through which he must flee one hundred and sixty miles before he again would be among his friends! No one knew better than Boone himself that it was to be a race for life, for pursuit on the morrow was as certain as the rising of the sun.

Nevertheless with the same quiet courage which had ever been the great scout's strong reliance, he struck out for the Ohio River. Through the deep forests, over the high crags and rocks, across the creeks and following the courses of the river, by day and by night, he forced his tireless way.

Success crowned his efforts at last, and he gained the shores of the Ohio. But when he arrived upon the bank he found the river full and at least a mile in width.

Unable to swim, for a time the scout was uncertain what his next move should be. Fortunately, he found, on the bank near the place where he was standing, an old canoe which had been driven against the shore. Although the little craft was untrustworthy, one end having been badly broken, the intrepid man succeeded in paddling his way in it to the opposite bank.

Four days and four nights the scout had been running with only an occasional brief respite. Throughout that time he had eaten but one meal. His strength was failing, but his hope was strong, for Daniel Boone was aware now that he was near to his home. At last the quaint fort was seen before him and the end of the journey had been gained.

The return of the scout was almost like that of one who had come back from the dead. Every man in the little settlement had believed that Daniel Boone was to be seen no more. No tidings had come from faraway Chillicothe, and no one in Boonesborough had any means of knowing what had befallen the party in their labours at Blue Licks.