and in September, 1778, was taken a prisoner, a few miles below
Maysville, by the Indians, who beat him until their arms were too tired
to indulge in this amusing pastime any longer. They then placed him upon
the ground on his back, drew his feet apart, lashed each to a strong
sapling, laid a pole across his breast, tied his hands to each end, and
lashed his arms to it with thongs which were tied around his body; then
they tied another thong around his neck and fastened it to a stake
driven in the ground. Thus he was forced to pass the night. The next
morning he was painted black and carried toward Chillicothe, where they
said they would burn him at the stake.
As a diversion they one day tied him securely on an unbroken horse,
which they turned loose to run through the woods at will. Through
undergrowth, among trees and patches of briers, the horse capered,
pranced, plunged, and ran, trying in vain to discharge his load until
finally he stopped from sheer exhaustion. Kenton was destitute of
clothing, bruised, bleeding, and almost lifeless. Arriving at the
village, they tied their distinguished prisoner to the stake, where he
was left for twenty-four hours, expecting every moment that the torch
would be applied. After enduring this agony he was forced to run the
gantlet, where six hundred Indians were ranged on either side with
switches, clubs, and sticks, and each gave him a blow as he passed.
Kenton had been told if he reached the council house he would be set
free. When he had almost reached the door of deliverance he was knocked
insensible. Again he was made a prisoner, was taken from town to town,
eight times was compelled to run the gantlet, three times tied to the
stake, and once almost killed by a powerful blow with an ax.
Once Simon Girty, the notorious renegade, remembering their former
friendship, saved him from the flames; again Logan, the Mingo chief,
interposed, stayed the fury of the savages, and persuaded a Canadian
trader named Drury to buy him from his captors. Drury took him to
Detroit, and delivered him to the British commander, where he received
humane treatment until 1779. Then a Mrs. Harvey, the wife of an Indian
trader, while a crowd of Indians were drunk, took three of their guns
and hid them in a patch of peas in her garden. At midnight Kenton,
following her directions, secured them, and with two other Kentucky
prisoners hastened to a hollow tree some distance from the town, where
ammunition, food, and clothing had been placed by the same
benefactress. The three fugitives after thirty-three days of incredible
suffering reached Louisville.
Later, with General George Rogers Clark in command, Kenton, the great
scout and spy, piloted the Kentuckians, when in 1780 they carried the
war into the Indian's own country.
During all these dangers there had ever been the horrible feeling that
he was a fugitive and a murderer; but meeting by chance some one from
his boyhood home, Simon Kenton learned that his former rival, William
Veach, was still alive. He resumed his rightful name, hastened home,
made friends with Veach, and started with his father and family again to
this great paradise of the West.
[Illustration: Simon Kenton]
Kenton, so great in all the qualifications of the pioneer, was not
schooled in the arts of civilization. His ignorance, coupled with his
great confidence in men, which amounted almost to credulity, caused him
to lose most of his valuable lands; but at last the legislature of
Kentucky made some reparation to the old, heroic soldier whose deeds and
daring will ever furnish ennobling themes for song and story.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] The name given the white men by the Indians on account of the long
knives they carried in their belts.
BOONE'S TRACE
Though Kentucky was not the home, but merely the hunting grounds, of
most of the Indians, yet there were varied and conflicting claims.
While the Six Nations sold their title to this vast area to the British,
and the Shawnees at last relinquished their rights, still the Cherokees
pressed their claim until Henderson's company, composed of nine men of
education and ability from North Carolina, purchased from them, in 1775,
at the Watauga River, about seventeen million acres of land for ten
thousand pounds ($50,000). This company hoped to found a colony and sell
land to immigrants. They named this region Transylvania--"beyond the
woods."
Later, this purchase was declared by both Virginia and North Carolina to
be null and void, and the plan was abandoned. Before this, however,
Daniel Boone had been sent to open up a trace or road from the Holston
River to the mouth of Otter Creek on the Kentucky River, where later
Boonesborough was built and the first legislature in Kentucky was held.
This road was to be for the travel of men and pack horses, the pioneer's
train. Hastening forward with his brother, Squire Boone, Colonel Richard
Calloway, and several others--thirty in all--Daniel Boone began to
"blaze the way" in the wilderness for the countless thousands who were
to come after them.
Beginning at Watauga, the trace led to the Cumberland Gap, where it
joined the "Warrior's Path," which it followed for about fifty miles
northward; from this place it followed a buffalo trace to the northwest
until it reached the Kentucky River.
Blazing the trees with their hatchets, cutting their way through dead
brush, removing undergrowth, chopping through cane and reed, the party
proceeded on their perilous journey. Within about fifteen miles of their
destination, while asleep in camp, they were attacked by the Indians.
Later they were again fired upon by the savages, when two of the white
men were killed and three wounded. Here, five miles south of Richmond,
from necessity was erected the first fort in Kentucky. This stockade
fort was called Fort Twetty, as here Captain Twetty died and was buried.
Pushing on, Boone and his companions reached the site selected, and soon
constructed a stockade fort of two cabins, connected by palisades. This
formed the nucleus of the fort, which was completed in about two months
and which was named Boonesborough.
The trace or road opened by Boone has had various names; it has been
called "Boone's Trace" or "Boone's Trail," "the Virginia Road," "the
Road to Caintuck," "the Kentucky Road," and "the Wilderness Road." This
last name was given from the great wilderness of laurel thickets between
the Cumberland Gap and the settlements in Kentucky, a length of two
hundred miles without a single habitation.
Along this difficult highway a narrow and often zigzag path in the
forest, six hundred miles in length, came the countless men, women, and
children from Virginia who were to found this great commonwealth of
Kentucky, a worthy daughter of a most worthy mother.
When the legislature of Kentucky in 1795 passed an act for enlarging to
the width of thirty feet that part of Boone's Trace between Crab Orchard
and Cumberland Gap, and advertised for bids on it, the old pioneer, who
had been the "Pathfinder" of the West in this new Eldorado, sent to
Governor Isaac Shelby the following characteristic letter:
_feburey the 11th 1796,_
_Sir_
_after my Best Respts to your Excelancy and famyly I wish to inform
you that I have sum intention of undertaking this New Rode that is
to be cut through the Wilderness and I think My self intiteled to
the ofer of the Bisness as I first Marked out that Rode in March
1775 and Never Re'd anything for my trubel and Sepose I am No
statesman I am a Woodsman and think My self as capable of Marking
and Cutting that Rode as any other man Sir if you think with Me
I would thank you to Wright Mee a Line By the Post the first
opportuneaty and he Will Lodge it at Mr. John Miler son hinkston
fork as I wish to know where and when it is to be laat (let) So
that I may atend at the time_
_I am Deer Sir your very omble sarvent_
_Daniel Boone_
_To his Excelancy governor Shelby._
The grim old veteran did not secure the contract, but his name is
inseparably linked with this thoroughfare, the opening of which was of
inestimable value to the infant empire beyond the mountains.
BOONE IN CAPTIVITY
On New Year's Day, 1778, Daniel Boone with thirty companions left
Boonesborough for the Blue Licks, to make a year's supply of salt for
the garrisons.
A few weeks later, while hunting several miles from the camp, he was
overtaken by a party of one hundred Indians and attempted to escape. The
fleet warriors, needing a white captive to give them information about
Boonesborough, instead of shooting Boone as he ran, gave chase and
captured the hardy backwoodsman.
Now all the cunning of Boone was sorely needed. He wished to prevent if
possible the capture of the salt makers and to postpone the march of the
savages on the garrison. How the wily old hunter managed we do not know.
But he finally secured the promise of the Indians that if the party at
Blue Licks would surrender, they would be well treated as prisoners and
their lives spared. Arriving at Blue Licks, Boone made signs to the
white men to surrender without resistance; this they did, and the
promise made by the Indians to Boone was sacredly kept.
Three of the white men managed to escape; when the Indians had gone,
they returned, hid the kettles, and carried home the salt, as well as
the news of the captivity of Boone and his companions.
The prisoners were marched through severe weather to the principal
Shawnee town, old Chillicothe, on the Little Miami River in Ohio. In
March, Boone and ten others were carried to Detroit, where the British
commander, Governor Hamilton, offered the Indians L100 sterling for
Boone, intending to send him home on parole. But Boone had so won the
hearts of his dusky captors that they would not patiently listen to any
plan that would take him from among them. The great hunter had to feign
contentment and not wound the feelings or excite the suspicion of his
captors.
Leaving the other prisoners at Detroit, the savages returned to their
capital with Boone, whom they soon adopted into one of the principal
families. Although they plucked out his hairs, one by one, except the
scalp lock of about three inches on the crown; although he was taken
into the river and given a scrubbing, "to take out all his white blood";
although he was harangued by the chief about the great honor shown him;
and although he was frightfully painted and bedecked in
feathers,--through it all he appeared content and thus still more
endeared himself to the Indians.
[Illustration: "Boone was frightfully painted and bedecked in
feathers."]
After this the Indians would challenge him to shooting matches, in which
he was cautious not to excel them too often, for fear of arousing their
envy or jealousy, but would beat them often enough to excite their
admiration.
Boone was very careful to show respect and loyalty to the leading chief,
to favor him often with the spoils of the hunt, and thus lead all to
believe that he was happy to have cast his lot among them.
This apparent contentment was only another evidence of what a silent
stoic Boone could be, for his every thought was with his family and
friends; but to serve them as well as to save himself, he must pretend
pleasure in his lot.
Returning one day in June from where a party of the Indians had carried
him to make salt for them, the old hunter found a party, of nearly five
hundred warriors ready to march on his beloved Boonesborough. Now Boone
felt that his captivity served a good purpose, for he determined at all
hazards to escape and warn the garrison.
The Indians had so relaxed their vigilance over him that he was able to
effect this resolve. Rising at the usual hour on June 16, he went out
ostensibly to hunt, but so great was his anxiety that he made no attempt
to kill anything to eat, but hastened on over the perilous trip of one
hundred and sixty miles and reached home in four days. During this time
he ate only one meal, the food he had hidden in his blanket. He was
joyfully received like one risen from the dead, though his family,
thinking him killed, had returned to North Carolina.
The fort was in a defenseless condition, but the return of their old
leader, the news he brought, and the confidence he inspired, soon put
all in readiness to receive the enemy.
BOONESBOROUGH'S BRAVE DEFENSE
Finding their captive gone, the Indians delayed their march on
Boonesborough, until, impatient to fight the foe, Colonel Boone with
nineteen others, among whom was Simon Kenton, started in August to
attack the Indians at Paintcreektown, in Ohio. When within about four
miles of the place, Kenton, who was in advance, was surprised and
startled by hearing loud laughter from a canebrake just before him. He
had scarcely secreted himself when two Indians, seated on a pony, one
facing the animal's head, the other his tail, dashed by his place of
concealment. Kenton fired, both savages fell, one killed, the other
severely wounded. As Kenton was taking the latter's scalp he was
suddenly surrounded by about thirty Indians, who were at once dispersed
by the arrival of Boone and his party.
Boone, dispatching spies, at once learned that the Indian town was
deserted; so he lost no time in retracing his steps to Boonesborough,
which he reached one day in advance of the Indian army, led by Captain
Duquesne, a Canadian Frenchman. The invading army, four hundred strong,
appeared flying the British colors. The savage warriors, painted in
hideous colors, paraded in two lines, giving the most bloodcurdling
yells and brandishing their guns. It was enough to try the stoutest
heart.
Soon a large negro stepped in front of the line and in English called
for "Captain Boone," but there was no reply. Again he said he wanted to
speak to Captain Boone, and if he would come out, he would not be hurt.
The men in the fort objected to their leader's going, but Boone, armed
with a pipe and a flag, went out alone, leaving instructions that if he
was made prisoner his men should shut the fort and defend it to the
last.
In about one hour he returned, telling his companions that the Indians
had promised that if he would surrender the fort he and his companions
would not be hurt. To pacify the Indians he had seemed to assent to this
plan, promising to return the next day, and inform them of the result of
his conference with his companions.
When the little band of less than fifty fighting men met in council and
learned that they could make a manly defense with small chance of
success, and if defeated they would become victims of savage barbarity,
or they could surrender at once, become prisoners, and be stripped of
their effects, the deliberation was short, the answer prompt, and voiced
by each:
"We are determined to defend our fort as long as a man of us lives."
The next day Boone again met the assaulters and asked for another day in
which to secure the assent of the remainder in the fort, to surrender.
The time thus gained was improved by making every preparation possible;
they collected the cattle and horses, fastened the gate with bars, and
in every way made ready for the conflict.
The next morning, from one of the bastions of the fort, Colonel Boone
made known to the commander of his adversaries the determination of the
garrison, at the same time thanking them for the time in which to
prepare his defense.
Disappointment was plainly evident in the countenance of Duquesne; he
did not at once give up hope of a capitulation, but decided if possible
to entrap Boone. He declared that in his order from Governor Hamilton he
was told simply to take the white people as prisoners of war, neither to
rob nor destroy them. If nine of the principal men would come out and
treat with them, there would be no violence; they would only return with
the prisoners or, if they would swear allegiance and accept the
protection of the British king, they would be set free.
Boone felt this was one more chance to save his men from slaughter. The
conference was called about sixty yards from the gate of the fort; the
articles were read, agreed upon, and signed. Then the commander said
that among the Indians it was customary on such occasions to show their
sincerity by two Indians shaking each white man by the hand. Boone
agreed to this. At once two Indians approached each of the nine white
men and as they took his hand attempted to seize and make him prisoner.
The white men with great strength sprang away, and fled to the fort amid
a shower of bullets from Indians in ambush, who came rushing up with the
most terrifying yells. All reached the fort in safety with the exception
of one wounded man.
[Illustration: "The fight now began in earnest."]
The fight now began in earnest, and lasted nine days. The enemy tried
various ways to overcome the garrison. At one time they secreted a part
of their force under the bank of the Kentucky, attacked the fort on the
opposite side, and finally pretended to retreat; this ruse failing, they
began to undermine the houses by excavating under the river bank and
digging toward the fort. This was discovered by the muddy water caused
by the great quantity of the loose earth they were compelled to throw
into the river. Boone at once began to dig a trench within the fort, and
as the loose dirt was taken up it was thrown over the fort wall. Finding
their plan was discovered, the Indians abandoned it, but that night
attempted to fire the fort by pitching torches of cane and hickory bark
upon it. A rain had fallen a few hours before and the wet logs did not
burn easily, and the flames were soon extinguished by the whites. Next
day finding that they could not conquer by "force or fraud" and that
their stock of provisions was almost exhausted, they paraded and
withdrew after thirty-seven had been killed in sight of the fort and
many others wounded. In the fort there were only four wounded.
After the savages had gone the white men picked up one hundred and
twenty-five pounds of leaden bullets which had fallen near the fort
walls, besides the vast number that had lodged in the walls and
palisades.
THE LOST BABY
If your baby brother or sister should be lost, even though our country
is thickly peopled and we have a perfect network of telephones and
telegraphs across it, think how alarmed you would feel! Yet think how
much more anxious a mother would be if her baby were lost in a
wilderness where wolves, wildcats, and panthers roamed hungry and
fierce.
This really happened to a baby boy named Bennie Craig. His father,
Benjamin Craig, who presented his commission as a magistrate at the
first county court held in Gallatin County, 1799, left Virginia in 1781
with his wife and three children. In those early days people traveled on
foot or horseback, carrying with them what household necessities they
could by means of pack horses.
The men and larger boys generally walked ahead, to be sure no Indians
lurked in ambush; the smaller boys and girls drove the cows and sheep,
and watched to keep them from wandering off through the woods; while the
women rode horseback, having tied on the backs of the horses all the
absolutely necessary household utensils.
In this party the usual plan of travel prevailed. Mrs. Craig and baby
Bennie were on one horse, followed by another loaded with meal, bacon,
salt, and skillets and tools; another one of these pack horses had,
strapped across its back, some hickory withes holding on each side a
basket made of the boughs of the same tree. These baskets carried what
bedding and clothing were needed for the new homes. In one of these
baskets was placed also a little boy of six, in the other a little girl
of four. Sometimes the mother permitted baby Bennie to ride in the
basket with his little sister. All three children found many things of
interest as they rode along in this strange, new land.
One morning Mrs. Craig laid baby Bennie, who was asleep, on a bed of
leaves amid the boughs of a fallen tree, while she helped pack the
things to start. As Mr. Craig was anxious to overtake some travelers who
were ahead of him, because in numbers there was greater safety, he
hurried Mrs. Craig on her horse; when she called for the baby, the
little sister begged that it be allowed to ride again with her. The
mother consented, rode on, and the father began to load the other horse;
he safely tucked the little boy and girl away in the baskets, but in the
excitement of overtaking the other travelers both father and children
forgot baby Bennie.
About an hour later Mrs. Craig, looking back, saw only two children and
cried out, "Where is the baby?" All were frantic with fear when they
realized that the baby had been left behind.
Mr. Craig hastily stripped the pack from one of the horses, sprang up on
its back with gun in hand, and with all possible speed hurried back. For
nearly two hours the rest waited and watched, wept and prayed. Finally
the sound of the horse's hoofs was heard and Mr. Craig came at full
gallop, shouting, "Here he is, safe and sound! The little rascal hadn't
waked up."
[Illustration: "Here he is, safe and sound!"]
THE FIRST ROMANCE IN KENTUCKY
Difficulties, suffering, and danger beset the early pioneers. Yet none
of these prevented love, love-making, and marriage. The earliest romance
was that of Samuel Henderson and Betsey Calloway, at Boonesborough, in
1776. There came near being no wedding, for late in the afternoon of
Sunday, July 14, when the midsummer sun caused each one to hunt a cooler
place, Elizabeth and Frances Calloway and Jemima Boone, the oldest
daughter of Daniel Boone, started out for a boat ride on the river. They
were drifting along in their canoe, unconsciously near the opposite
shore, when they were suddenly surprised and terrified at the appearance
of five Indians who waded into the water and dragged their canoe ashore.
The three girls screamed with fright, but Betsey Calloway showed herself
a true pioneer by gashing the head of one of her assailants with her
paddle. Before dragging them from the boat the Indians forced Frances
Calloway and Jemima Boone to put on Indian moccasins, but Elizabeth, or
Betsey, again showed her courage by refusing to do so. We can well
imagine the horror when the people at the fort realized that the girls
were in the hands of the savages. Both Boone and Calloway were absent,
but soon returned and lost no time in starting for rescue and revenge.
Two parties set out: one on foot with Colonel Boone and the three lovers
of the three girls, Samuel Henderson, John Holder, and Flanders
Calloway, respectively; another on horseback.
As soon as they reached the north side of the river, Boone drew them up
in line, placing the middle man at the trail, and pressed forward in
pursuit. His daring was equaled only by his discretion, for should the
pursuers be seen by the Indians, it was highly probable the three
maidens would suffer death by the tomahawk. Betsey Calloway came near
suffering thus when the savages discovered her breaking off twigs by
which she could be trailed. Though the upraised tomahawk with a threat
to use it caused her to desist from this, she slyly tore off bits of her
linsey-woolsey dress, and occasionally pressed the heel of her shoepack
into the soft earth, thus leaving a trail.
By these signs, in the reading of which Colonel Boone was almost as wary
as the Indians, the rescuing party hardly lost sight of the direction
taken, although the captors compelled the girls to walk apart through
the thick cane and wade up and down the streams of water, in an effort
to hide their trail. On Tuesday morning, when about forty miles from
Boonesborough, the whites came upon the captors just as they had kindled
a fire to cook some buffalo meat. The two parties saw each other about
the same time, but as their weapons were piled at the foot of a tree,
and the whites fired at once and rushed upon them, the Indians hastily
fled without knife, tomahawk, or even moccasins. The three girls were
unharmed.
[Illustration: "The whites fired and rushed upon them."]
Betsey Calloway, a brunette much tanned by exposure, was mistaken by one
of the rescuing party for an Indian, as she sat with the two wearied
maidens asleep with their heads in her lap. Just as he was about to
dash out her brains with the butt of his gun his arm was arrested by one
who recognized her, and a most horrible tragedy was averted. Amid
rejoicing they returned to the fort.
On the seventh of the next month Squire Boone, a Baptist minister,
performed the first marriage ceremony in Kentucky, when Betsey Calloway
became the wife of Samuel Henderson. The other two couples soon followed
their example.
A WEDDING IN THE WILDERNESS