That May day ended in a lovely evening, warm enough to make outside air
the most agreeable, so directly after an early tea the Woodburn family
gathered upon the veranda, where they were presently joined by the
Sunnyside folk, babies and all, who received the warmest of welcomes,
though they had been absent from the older home but a few hours.
Naturally the first topic of conversation related to that day's visit
from Grandma Elsie and Walter and its main object--the appeal for
help to the good work going on among the mountaineers of Kentucky and
Tennessee.
"I am glad we were given the opportunity to help it," remarked the
captain. "It has set me to thinking of the pioneers and early settlers
of that section of our land. Among them Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton."
"Oh, papa, please tell us about them!" exclaimed Elsie.
"Some time, daughter," he answered pleasantly; "but the rest of this
little company may not care to hear the old stories repeated just now."
At that there was a unanimous expression of desire to do so, and he
presently began.
"Simon Kenton's lifetime took in both our wars with England, as he
was born in 1755 and lived until April, 1836. Virginia was his native
State, but his father was Irish and his mother Scotch. They were poor,
and Simon received but little education. At the age of sixteen he had
a fight with another young fellow named William Veach about a love
affair. He thought he had killed Veach, so fled over the Alleghanies.
There he called himself Simon Butler. He formed friendships with
traders and hunters, among them Simon Girty."
"Girty, that cruel, cruel wretch!" cried Elsie. "How could anybody want
to have him for a friend?"
"He was a bad, cruel man," replied her father, "but perhaps never had
any good teaching. His father had died and his mother married again,
and they were all taken prisoners by the Indians and his step-father
burned at the stake when Simon Girty was but five years old. It was
three years before he was released, and I do not know that he ever had
any education. Many cruel deeds are told of him, but he was really a
good friend to Simon Kenton, and once saved him from being burned at
the stake by the Indians.
"But to go back, Kenton was soon persuaded by a young man named Yager,
who had been taken by the Western Indians when a child, and spent a
good many years among them, to go with him to a land called by the
Indians Kan-tuc-kee, which he described as a most delightful place.
"They two, with a third young man named Strader, set off in high
spirits, expecting to find a paradise. But they wandered through the
wilderness for weeks hoping to find the promised land, but without
success. Then they tried hunting and trapping for nearly two years.
But being discovered by the Indians, they had to abandon those hunting
grounds and try elsewhere; but to tell of it all would make too long a
story.
"In 1778 Kenton joined Daniel Boone in his expedition against the
Indian town on Paint Creek. On his return from that he was sent by
Colonel Bowman, with two companions, to make observations upon the
Indian towns on Little Miami, the colonel considering the idea of an
expedition against them. Kenton reached the spot in safety, and if he
had attended only to what he was sent to do he might have succeeded
well and been very useful to the settlers in Kentucky, but before
leaving the towns he stole a number of the Indians' horses.
"The Indians missed their horses early the next morning, found the
trail of those who had taken them, and at once pursued after them.
Kenton and his companions soon heard the cries of the Indians in their
rear and knew they were being pursued, so saw the necessity of riding
for their lives, which they did, dashing through the woods at a furious
rate, with the hue and cry of the Indians after them ringing in their
ears; but suddenly they came to an impenetrable swamp.
"There they paused a few moments, listening for the sounds of pursuit;
but hearing none, they started on again, skirted the swamp for some
distance, hoping to be able to cross it, but finding they could not,
they dashed on in a straight line for the Ohio. For forty-eight hours
they continued their furious speed, halting only once or twice for a
few minutes to eat a little, and reached the Ohio in safety. But there
they had to pause and consider what to do, for the river was high and
rough and the jaded horses could not be induced to try to swim it. The
men might yet have escaped if they had only abandoned the horses; but
that Kenton could not make up his mind to do. He and his companions
consulted over the matter, and feeling sure that they were as much
as twelve hours in advance of their Indian pursuers, they decided to
conceal the horses in the nearby ravine and themselves in an adjoining
wood, hoping that by sunset the high wind would abate and the river
become quiet enough for them to cross safely with the animals.
"But when the waited-for time came the wind was higher and the water
rougher than ever. Still they stayed where they were through the night.
The next morning was mild, and they heard no sound of pursuing Indians,
so they again tried to urge the horses over the river. But the animals
seemed to remember its condition on the previous day, and could not be
induced to go into it at all.
"It was quite a drove of horses they had stolen, but now they found
they must abandon all but the three they could mount; so that they did,
and started down the river, with the intention to keep the Ohio and
Indiana side till they should arrive opposite Louisville.
"But they had waited too long, and even now were slow in carrying out
their intention. They had not gone more than a hundred yards on their
horses when they heard a loud halloo, coming apparently from the spot
they had just left. They could not escape; were quickly surrounded by
their pursuers, one of Kenton's companions killed, the other, effecting
his escape while Kenton was taken prisoner, falling a victim to his
love of horses."
"I suppose he deserved it, as he had stolen the horses," remarked Elsie.
"Yes," replied her father, "he had no more right to steal from the
Indians than from white people, and his sin found him out."
"Did they kill him, papa?" asked Ned.
"No; they kicked and cuffed him as much as they cared to, then made
him lie down upon his back and stretch his arms to their full length,
passed a stout stick across his breast and fastened his wrists to each
extremity of it by thongs of buffalo-hide. Then they drove stakes into
the ground near his feet and fastened them in the same way. After that
they tied a halter round his neck and fastened it to a sapling growing
near. Lastly they passed a strong rope under his body, wound it several
times round his arms at the elbows, so lashing them to the stick which
lay across his breast, and to which his wrists were fastened; all this
in a manner that was peculiarly painful. He could not move at all,
either feet, arms or head, and was kept in that position till the
next morning. Then, as they wanted to go back to the spot from which
they had come, they unfastened him, put him on the back of a wild,
unbroken colt, one of those he had stolen, lashed him by the feet to
it and tied his hands behind him. And so he was driven into the cruel
captivity, a captivity which has been spoken of as being as singular
and remarkable in other respects as any in the whole history of Indian
warfare upon this continent.
"Kenton refused with strange infatuation to adopt proper measures for
his safety while he might have done so. With strange obstinacy he
remained on the Ohio shore until flight became useless. He was often
at one hour tantalized with a prospect of safety and the next plunged
into the deepest despair. Eight times he had to run the gauntlet, three
times he was tied to a stake and thought himself about to suffer a
terrible death. Any sentence passed upon him by one council, whether
to give him mercy or death, would presently be reversed by another.
Whenever Providence raised up a friend in his favor, some enemy
immediately followed, unexpectedly interposed and turned his glimpse
of sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For three weeks he was in
that manner see-sawing between life and death."
"And did they kill him at last, papa?" asked Ned.
"No," replied the captain. "An Indian agent of the name of Drewyer, who
was anxious to gain intelligence for the British commander at Detroit
in regard to the strength and condition of the settlements in Kentucky,
got Kenton free from the Indians just as for the fourth time they were
about to bind him to a stake and burn him. He (Drewyer) did not get
anything of importance out of Kenton, who was three weeks later sent a
prisoner to Detroit, from which place he made his escape in about eight
months; then he went back to Kentucky. He was very brave, a valuable
scout, a hardy woodsman, a good Indian fighter. He performed many
daring feats as the friend and companion of Daniel Boone, once saving
his life in a conflict with the Indians."
"Had not Logan something to do with Kenton's rescue by that Canadian
trader Drewyer?" asked Harold, who had been listening with interest to
the captain's story.
"Yes," was the reply; "Logan, the Mingo chief. At Detroit Kenton was
held as a prisoner of war, and there he worked for the garrison at half
pay, till he was aided by a trader's wife to escape. That was in July,
1779. He commanded a battalion of Kentucky volunteers as major under
General Anthony Wayne in 1793-94, became brigadier-general of Ohio
militia in 1805, and fought at the battle of the Thames in 1813."
"I hope his country rewarded his great services as it ought," remarked
Grace in tones of inquiry.
"Ah!" replied her father, "I am sorry to say that in his old age he was
reduced to poverty, the immense tracts of land which he possessed being
lost through the invasion of settlers and his ignorance of law.
"In 1824 he went to Frankfort to petition the legislature of Kentucky
to release the claim of the State upon some mountain land owned by
him. He was in tattered garments, and his appearance excited ridicule,
but on being recognized by General Thomas Fletcher, he was taken to
the capitol, seated in the speaker's chair, and introduced to a large
assembly as the second great adventurer of the West. His lands were
released and a pension of $240 was procured for him from Congress.
"He died near the spot where, fifty-eight years before, he had escaped
death at the hands of the Indians. Kenton County, Kentucky, was named
in his honor.
"Now let me read you a passage from a book I was examining the other
day, in which there is an interesting account of Kenton's appearance
and manner in his old age," said the captain. "It is in the library,
and I shall be back with it in a moment."
Several of the younger ones in the little company at once offered to do
the errand for him, but thanking them, and saying that he could find
it more readily than they, he went in, and soon returned with the book
in his hand. Then he read aloud, "'Kenton's form, even under the weight
of seventy-nine years, is striking, and must have been a model of
manly strength and agility. His eye is blue, mild and yet penetrating
in its glance. The forehead projects very much at the eyebrows, which
are well defined, and then recedes, and is neither very high nor very
broad. His hair, which in active life was light, is now quite gray;
his nose is straight, and his mouth before he lost his teeth must have
been expressive and handsome. I observed that he had yet one tooth,
which, in connection with his character and manner of conversation,
was continually reminding me of Leatherstocking. The whole face is
remarkably expressive, not of turbulence or excitement, but rather of
rumination and self-possession. Simplicity, frankness, honesty and
strict regard to truth appeared to be the prominent traits of his
character. In giving an answer to a question which my friend asked him,
I was particularly struck with his truthfulness and simplicity. The
question was, whether the account of his life, given in the "Sketches
of Western Adventure" was true or not. "Well, I'll tell you," said
he, "not true. The book says that when Blackfish, the Injun warrior,
asked me, when they had taken me prisoner, if Colonel Boone sent me to
steal their horses, I said 'No, sir.'" Here he looked indignant and
rose from his chair. "I tell you I never said 'sir' to an Injun in my
life; I scarcely ever say it to a white man." Here Mrs. Kenton, who
was engaged in some domestic occupation at the table, turned round and
remarked that when they were last in Kentucky some one gave her the
book to read to her husband, and that when she came to that part he
would not let her read any further. "And I tell you," continued he, "I
was never tied to a stake in my life to be burned. They had me painted
black when I saw Girty, but not tied to a stake." We are inclined to
think, notwithstanding this, that the statement in the Sketches of his
being three times tied to the stake is correct, for the author of that
interesting work had before him a manuscript account of the pioneer's
life, which had been dictated by Mr. Kenton to a gentleman of Kentucky
a number of years before, when he had no motive to exaggerate and his
memory was comparatively unimpaired. But he is now beyond the reach of
earthly toil, or trouble, or suffering. His old age was as exemplary as
his youth and manhood had been active and useful. And though his last
years were clouded by poverty, and his eyes closed in a miserable cabin
to the light of life, yet shall he occupy a bright page in our border
history and his name soon open to the light of fame.'"
A slight pause followed the conclusion of the captain's reading of
the sketch of the life of Kenton, then Grace said earnestly, "Thank
you, father, for giving us so extended an account of Kenton's life
and services to our country. He deserved the kindly and grateful
remembrance of his countrymen."
"So I think," said Harold, "and that he will never be forgotten. Poor
fellow! I am sorry indeed that he was robbed of his lands, and so spent
his old age and died in poverty."