The free exercise of this darling passion had been checked and restrained, ever since the first settlement of the country, by the continued wars and hostile incursions of the Indians. The path of the hunter had been ambushed by the wily savage, and he seldom ventured beyond the purlieus of his cabin, or the station where he resided. He was now free to roam in safety through the pathless wilderness—to camp out in security whenever he was overtaken by night; and to pursue the game wherever it was to be found in the greatest abundance.
Civilization had not yet driven the primitive tenants of the forest from their favorite retreats. Most of the country was still in a state of nature—unsettled and unappropriated. Few fences or inclosures impeded the free range of the hunter, and very few buts and bounds warned him of his being about to trespass upon the private property of some neighbor. Herds of buffaloes and deer still fed upon the rich cane-brake and rank vegetation of the boundless woods, and resorted to the numerous Licks for salt and drink.
Boone now improved this golden opportunity of indulging in his favorite pursuit. He loved to wander alone, with his unerring rifle upon his shoulder, through the labyrinths of the tangled forests, and to rouse the wild beast from his secret lair. There was to him a charm in these primeval solitudes which suited his peculiar temperament, and he frequently absented himself on these lonely expeditions for days together. He never was known to return without being loaded with the spoils of the chase. The choicest viands and titbits of all the forest-fed animals were constantly to be found upon his table. Not that Boone was an epicure; far from it. He would have been satisfied with a soldier's fare. In common with other pioneers of his time, he knew what it was to live upon roots and herbs for days together. He had suffered hunger and want in all its forms without a murmur or complaint. But when peace allowed him to follow his profession of a hunter, and to exercise that tact and superiority which so much distinguished him, he selected from the abundance and profusion of the game which fell victims to his skill, such parts as were most esteemed. His friends and neighbors were also, at all times, made welcome to a share of whatever he killed. And he continued to live in this primitive simplicity—enjoying the luxury of hunting, and of roving in the woods, and indulging his generous and disinterested disposition towards his neighbors, for several years after the peace.
In the meantime, while Boone had been thus courting solitude, and absorbed by the engrossing excitement of hunting, the restless spirit of immigration, and of civil and physical improvement, had not been idle. After the peace the tide of population poured into the country in a continual stream and the busy spirit of civilization was every where making inroads into the ancient forests, and encroaching upon the dominions of the hunter.
In order, however, that the reader may more readily comprehend the causes which operated as grievances to Boone, and finally led him to abandon Kentucky, and seek a home in regions more congenial, it will be necessary to allude to the progress made in population, and the civil polity, and incidents attending the settlement of the country.
The state of Kentucky was not surveyed by the government and laid off into sections and townships as has been the case with all the lands north of the Ohio. But the government of Virginia had issued land warrants, or certificates entitling the holder to locate wherever he might choose, the number of acres named in the warrant. They also grave to actual settlers certain pre-emption rights to such lands as they might occupy and improve by building a cabin, raising a crop, &c. The holders of these warrants, after selecting the land which they intended to cover, with their titles, were required to enter a survey and description of the tracts selected, in the Land office, which had been opened for the purpose, to be recorded there, for the information of others, and to prevent subsequent holders of warrants from locating the same lands. Yet notwithstanding these precautions, such was the careless manner in which these surveys were made, that many illiterate persons, ignorant of the forms of law, and the necessity of precision in the specification and descriptions of the tracts on which they had laid their warrants, made such loose and vague entries in the land office, as to afford no accurate information to subsequent locators, who frequently laid their warrants on the same tracts. It thus happened that the whole or a part of almost every tract was covered with different and conflicting titles—forming what have been aptly called 'shingle titles'—overlaying and lapping upon each other, as shingles do upon the roof of a building. In this way twice the existing acres of land were sold and the door opened for endless controversy about boundaries and titles. The following copy of an entry may serve as a specimen of the vagueness of the lines, buts, and bounds of their claims, and as accounting for the flood of litigation that ensued.
"George Smith enters nine hundred acres of land on a treasury warrant, lying on the north side of Kentucky river, a mile below a creek; beginning about twenty poles below a lick; and running down the river westwardly, and northwestwardly for quantity."
It will easily be seen that a description, so general and indefinite in its terms, could serve as no guide to others who might wish to avoid entering the same lands. This defect in providing for the certainty and safety of land titles, proved a sore evil to the state of Kentucky. As these lands increased in value and importance, controversies arose as to the ownership of almost every tract: and innumerable suits, great strife and excitement, prevailed in every neighborhood, and continued until within a late period, to agitate the whole body of society. The legislature of the state, by acts of limitation and judicious legislation upon the subject, have finally quieted the titles of the actual occupants.
Among others who made these loose and unfortunate entries, was Daniel Boone. Unaccustomed to the forms of law and technical precision, he was guided by his own views of what was proper and requisite, and made such brief and general entries, as were afterwards held not sufficient to identify the land. He had discovered and explored the country when it was all one vast wilderness—unoccupied, and unclaimed. He and a few other hardy pioneers, by almost incredible hardships, dangers, and sacrifices, had won it from the savage foe; and judging from his own single and generous mind, he did not suppose that question would ever be made of his right to occupy such favorite portions as he might select and pay for. He did not think it possible that any one, knowing these circumstances, could be found so greedy or so heartless, as to grudge him the quiet and unmolested enjoyment of what he had so dearly earned. But in this he was sadly mistaken. A set of speculators and interlopers, who, following in the train of civilization and wealth, came to enrich themselves by monopolizing the rich lands which had thus been won for them, and by the aid of legal advisers, following all the nice requisitions of the law, pounced, among others, upon the lands of our old pioneer. He was not at first disturbed by these speculating harpies; and game being plenty, he gave himself little uneasiness about the claims and titles to particular spots, so long as he had such vast hunting grounds to roam in—which, however, he had the sorrow to see daily encroached upon by the new settlements of the immigrants.
But the inroads made by the frequent settlements in his accustomed hunting range, were not the only annoyances which disturbed the simple habits and patriarchal views of Boone. Civilization brought along with it all the forms of law, and the complicated organization of society and civil government, the progress of which had kept pace with the increasing population.