It was one fine day in May in the year 1769 that the little party assembled for the start. Besides Boone and Finley, there were James Moncey, John Stuart, William Cool and Joseph Holden, hardy woodsmen, dead shots and men who could be depended upon in any emergency.
Besides the sinewy, deep-winded horses which they rode, they had a number of pack animals laden with blankets, ammunition and camp equipment and provisions.
“We need not take much food,” said Boone, and Finley had agreed with him. “A little meal and salt and such like, that’s all. For the country into which we’re going, boys, is a paradise for riflemen. The streams have never been fished except by the wandering Injuns; the herds of deer and buffalo are endless; the small game, both furred and feathered, are not to be counted.”
Each of the adventurers had slung across his back the very long, flint-lock rifle made famous by their breed and generation; they also carried keen, heavy knives and hatchets; only a few pistols were to be seen among them. They wore deerskin hunting shirts and tanned leggins of the same material; their powder-horns and bullet-pouches swung from their shoulders.
Boone and the others had said good-bye to their families and now sat their horses in the trail along the Yadkin, having a last word with Colonel Henderson, who had ridden from Hillsboro to see them off. Noll Barclay had borne him company, and Eph Taylor, eager and curious, had journeyed from the forest-encircled farm to hear the latest word.
“I suppose,” Oliver said to his uncle, “that you have reasons, but I can’t see why Eph and I could not ride with Mr. Boone on this adventure as well as not.”
“You are too young,” spoke the colonel, after the fashion of a man who had heard the suggestion in many forms before.
Boone looked at the straight, slight form of the lad, and then at the lanky Eph. He nodded his agreement with the other.
“Too young,” said he. “There are times, lads, when years count, and this is one of them. It’s not only your being short of endurance but of judgment that makes it impossible to take you along this time. You look at this thing as a bit of fun, and that is just what it is not. In a year or two, though,” he added, “you’ll both have picked up years and experience.”
“But in a year or two,” objected Noll, “there may be no trips into the wilderness.”