The Shawanee invariably shaped his flints after the custom of his people; the Huron, the Wyandot, the Delaware, the Pottawottomie did his in an altogether different way. One arrowhead was long; another rather broad; a third had a small shank that fitted in the crotch made by splitting the end of the shaft; while a fourth needed no such appendage, but was inserted direct, and the two sides of the arrow securely bound, until the whole was as rigid as though forming one piece.
[Note 8] ([page 127])
Boone at this time was held to be the finest borderman west of the Alleghanies. With his calm, resolute bearing he impressed every one he met as few men have the faculty for doing.
Even the hostile Indians felt that he was a real man; and when, several years later, Boone had the misfortune to fall into their hands, instead of putting him to the torture post, or making him run the gauntlet, as ordinary prisoners were treated, they took him a prisoner to one of their villages far away in Ohio, where he was finally adopted into the tribe, and treated with great respect as a brother. Indeed, he had considerable difficulty in escaping later on, when he learned that hundreds of the Shawanee warriors were assembling, with the purpose of surprising his favorite settlement, which he managed to reach in time to prepare it for the defence that has become historic.
[Note 9] ([page 149])
This prophecy of Bob Armstrong really came true, since the name of Blue Jacket figures on many pages of border history. He never loved the whites as a class; it was only the Armstrongs whom he had come to care for; and this explains why, at a later stage of his life, Blue Jacket even led his warriors against the settlements that were encroaching on the hunting grounds of the red men. Those who would know more about this brilliant young brave, who afterwards became so noted a chief, must study the accounts of border warfare, in which his exploits are written.
[Note 10] ([page 209])
This wonderful man of the border, Simon Kenton, seemed to bear a charmed life. Many times was he captured; and on three occasions, at least, made to run the gauntlet of his foes, while the brush was piled up around the stake at which they fully intended to burn him; but he always escaped. He had come to believe that he was never fated to die at the hands of the red foe of the pioneers; and this made him the more rash. Even so valued a friend as Boone was unable to hold him in check, once he allowed this spirit of recklessness to have dominion over him.
Once, it is recorded that, just after his funeral pile of brush had been lighted, there came a furious thunder storm, the rain putting out the fire, and the crash of the elements sending fear to the hearts of the Indians. Then the medicine-man hastened to warn them that the Great Spirit was angry with his red children because they had attempted to put to death a paleface whom the spirits especially favored; and so Kenton had been put back in the prison lodge again, from which in time he made his escape, as usual.