In Kentucky with Daniel Boone

by John T. McIntyre

The boys listened to his account of his capture with Stuart by the Shawnees; also to the long months which he spent alone in the wilderness, enemies ever upon his trail, but persisting in his task in the face of all. And when, at length, they rode away, their faces were grave, their eyes shining.

“That was a fine thing to do,” said Eph, in great admiration. “A very fine thing. I reckon there’s not another in the settlements that would have stayed to finish up with all those dangers crowding around him.”

“I always knew that Mr. Boone was like that,” said Sandy. “I’d watch the way he’d ride his horse, or hold his rifle, or speak to any one who’d meet him. He had a way about him that told you he’d be a hard man to beat.”

“I think to do what you set out to do is one of the best proofs of quality in a man,” spoke Oliver. “Sometimes it’s easy, and sometimes it’s hard to do; but to do it’s the thing, and nothing else will answer if you mean to be worth anything.”

It was late in September in the year 1774 that Boone started, with his family, to take up his home in the country beyond the Laurel Ridge. Squire Boone was with them, and he helped Daniel and his sons to see to the packhorses, the cattle and the hogs which were taken to stock the new farm in the wilderness.

Near Powell’s Valley, not many miles distant, the Boones were met by the Taylors, the family of the farmer for whom Sandy worked, and a number of other prospective homesteaders. As the expedition now stood there were some forty hardy, courageous men in its column, armed and ready for the toil of the march.

Ahead rode Oliver Barclay, Eph Taylor and young Campbell with some of the younger of the men; in a line came the packhorses and those bearing the women and children. Boone and the main body of the settlers rode beside the pack animals, their rifles across their saddle-bows. In the rear came the cattle in the care of another band of youths who had undertaken this part of the work under the watchful eye of Boone’s eldest son.

For a week this formation was kept; at night they camped at sides of streams with guards set out to watch for the Indian prowlers who might have trailed them during the day and who might now be waiting for a murderous opportunity from the underbrush; also the cattle and hogs were to be kept from the attacks of those stealthy beasts which prowl the night.

They headed for that break in the mountain chain afterward known as the Cumberland Gap; never a sight of a redskin was had, never a sign of his trail anywhere. But there he was, nevertheless, for just eleven days after the journey began, while they were passing through a particularly difficult place, there came a sudden murderous volley of bullets and arrows in the rear, a rush of red robbers, and the scattering of most of the cattle into the woods. And six of the rear guard, including Boone’s son, were left dead in the trail.

Instantly, upon the firing of the volley, the column of emigrants came to a halt; a line of defense was formed and the lightest of the horsemen began scurrying upon the trail of the savages who fled through the passes.