Daniel Boone: The Pioneer of Kentucky

by John S. C. Abbott

There was much to be done in preparation for so momentous a movement. He sold his farm on the Yadkin and invested the proceeds in such comforts as would be available on the banks of the Kentucky. Money would be of no value to him there. A path had been discovered by which horses could be led through the mountains, and thus many articles could be transported which could not be taken in packs on the back. Several of the neighbors, elated by the description which Boone gave of the paradise he had found, were anxious to join his family in their emigration. There were also quite a number of young men rising here and there, who, lured by the romance of the adventure, were eager to accompany the expedition. All these events caused delays. The party of emigrants became more numerous than Boone at first expected.

It was not until the twenty-fifth of September, 1773, that Daniel Boone, his brother Squire, and quite a large party of emigrants, probably in all—men, women and children—not less than sixty in number, commenced their journey across the mountains. There were five families and forty pioneers, all well armed, who were quite at home amid the trials and privations of the wilderness. Four horses, heavily laden, led the train through the narrow trails of the forest. Then came, in single file, the remainder of the party, of all ages and both sexes. It must have been a singular spectacle which was presented, as this long line wound its way through the valleys and over the ridges.

Squire Boone was quite familiar with the path. It was delightful autumnal weather. The days were long and calm, and yet not oppressively hot. There were no gloved gentlemen or delicate ladies in the company. All were hardy men and women, accustomed to endurance. Each day's journey was short. An hour before the sun disappeared in the west, the little village of cabins arose, where some spring gurgled from the cliff, or some sparkling mountain stream rippled before them. In front of each cabin the camp-fire blazed. All was animation and apparent joy, as the women prepared the evening meal, and the wearied children rested upon their couch of dried leaves or fragrant twigs. If a storm arose, they had but to remain beneath their shelter until it passed away.

"Traveling," says Madame de Stael, who was accustomed to the most luxurious of European conveyances, "is the most painful of pleasures." Probably our travelers on this journey experienced as many pleasures and as few pains as often fall to the lot of any tourist. The solitary wilderness has its attractions as well as the thronged town.

These bold men armed with their rifles, under such an accomplished leader as Daniel Boone, penetrated the wilderness with almost the strength of an invading army. Upon the open prairie, the superiority of their arms would compensate for almost any inferiority of numbers. Indeed they had little to fear from the savages, unless struck suddenly with overwhelming numbers leaping upon them from some ambush. Pleasant days came and went, while nothing occurred to interrupt the prosperity of their journey. They were approaching the celebrated Cumberland Gap, which seems to be a door that nature has thrown open for passing through this great mountain barrier. The vigilance they ought to have practiced had been in some degree relaxed by their freedom from all alarm. The cows had fallen a few miles behind, seven young men were with them, a son of Daniel Boone being one of the number. The main party was not aware how far the cattle had fallen in the rear.

It is probable that the savages had been following them for several days, watching for an opportunity to strike, for suddenly, as they were passing through a narrow ravine, the fearful war-whoop resounded from the thickets on both sides, a shower of arrows fell upon them, and six of the seven young men were instantly struck down by these deadly missiles. One only escaped. The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, that the emigrants had scarcely time for one discharge of their fire-arms, ere they were struck with death. The party in advance heard with consternation the reports of the muskets, and immediately returned to the scene of the disaster. But several miles intervened. They met the fugitive who had escaped, bleeding and almost breathless.

Hurrying on, an awful spectacle met their view. The bodies of six of the young men lay in the path, mangled and gory, with their scalps torn from their heads: the cattle were driven into the forest beyond pursuit. One of these victims was the eldest son of Daniel Boone. James was a noble lad of but seventeen years. His untimely death was a terrible blow to his father and mother. This massacre took place on the tenth of October, only a fortnight after the expedition had commenced its march. The gloom which it threw over the minds of the emigrants was so great, that the majority refused to press any farther into a wilderness where they would encounter such perils.

They had already passed two mountain ridges. Between them there was a very beautiful valley, through which flows the Clinch River. This many leagues below, uniting with the Holston River, flowing on the other side of Powell's Ridge, composes the majestic Tennessee, which, extending far down into Alabama, turns again north, and traversing the whole breadth of Tennessee and Kentucky, empties into the Ohio.

Notwithstanding the remonstrances of Daniel Boone and his brother, the majority of the emigrants resolved to retreat forty miles over the Walden Ridge, and establish themselves in the valley of the Clinch. Daniel Boone, finding all his attempts to encourage them to proceed in vain, decided with his customary good sense to acquiesce in their wishes, and quietly to await further developments. The whole party consequently retraced their steps, and reared their cabins on fertile meadows in the valley of the Clinch River. Here, between parallel ridges of mountains running north-east and south-west, Boone with his disheartened emigrants passed seven months. This settlement was within the limits of the present State of Virginia, in its most extreme south-western corner.

The value of the vast country beyond the mountains was beginning to attract the attention of the governors of the several colonies. Governor Dunmore of Virginia had sent a party of surveyors to explore the valley of the Ohio River as far as the celebrated Falls of the Ohio, near the present site of Louisville. Quite a body of these surveyors had built and fortified a camp near the Falls, and were busy in exploring the country, in preparation for the granting of lands as rewards for services to the officers and soldiers in the French war. These pioneers were far away in the wilderness, four hundred miles beyond any settlement of the whites. They were surrounded by thousands of Indian warriors, and still they felt somewhat secure, as a treaty of peace had been made by the Governor of Virginia with the neighboring chiefs. But, notwithstanding this treaty, many of the more intelligent of the Indians foresaw the inevitable destruction of their hunting grounds, should the white men succeed in establishing themselves on their lands, and cutting them up into farms.