“Signing writings and sending them to Tryon will do no good,” said he. “He’s a tyrant and understands nothing but oppression.” Then in a longing tone, his eyes on the distant hills, “I wish I were away from the Yadkin for good and all. No man can be free here as long as we have public officers who think of nothing but plunder.”
“As I said before,” said Colonel Henderson, in a satisfied tone, “there are a great many others who are of the same way of thinking as you. But they have nowhere to go; if a new country was opened for them, they would sell their farms, pack their goods upon their horses’ backs and be gone.”
There was something in the speaker’s tone that took the attention of the backwoodsman. His keen eyes studied Colonel Henderson’s face; but he said nothing.
“Ever since I heard Finley talk of the country beyond the ridge,” said the colonel, resuming after a moment, “I’ve felt that such a rare region should be opened up for settlement.”
“Right!” cried Daniel Boone and his eyes began to glow.
“But,” said the colonel, “I’ve also felt that it should not be done until the country was explored further—until it had been penetrated to its interior, until its streams were worked out on a chart, a trail made for the passage of emigrants and the most promising places fixed upon for settlements.”
“Right again,” said Daniel Boone. “I’ve been in the country and so have Finley and some others; but none of us has studied it. To do that would take a year or more; and to live a year so far from the settlements a man would have to make up his mind to troubles from the Indians.”
“The Shawnees claim it,” said the colonel. “If it is what I want, I will buy it from them.”
“It’s a hunting-ground for Cherokees, Shawnees and Chickasaws,” said Boone, and he shook his head as he spoke. “So far as I could see, it belonged to all of them. And it’s a fighting place; when two hunting parties meet, the hatchet, knife and arrow begin their work.”
Once more the colonel regarded the backwoodsman attentively.