OUR MEDICINE GROWS STRONGER
The Shawnees' anxiety to start for the Ohio almost became a panic. The
tragic manner in which they had been robbed of their victim, the screaming
defiance of young Cousin, together with their losses in warriors,
convinced them something was radically wrong with their war-medicine.
Outwardly Black Hoof remained calm but I knew he was greatly worried. His
medicine had designated Dale for the torture, and then had permitted a
bullet to release the man.
Nor was it any small influence which the girl's condition exerted in this
desire to retreat. She seemed to be stunned. She walked about, but without
appearing to hear or see her captors. There was none of the savages who
did not believe her terrible scream prefaced her crossing the
dividing-line between reason and insanity.
As an insane person she was under the special protection of the great
manito, and black woe to him who interfered with her. The chief was eager
to abandon her to be picked up by the settlers at Howard's Creek, but she
clung tenaciously to Cousin's sister. The latter displayed no emotion over
this preference, yet she did not repulse the girl. She even was gentle in
caring for her.
Ward was for finishing me out of hand, but Black Hoof insisted I should
carry packs and make myself useful before being dispensed with. Then again
I would be something to display at the villages and something to dance
about when it came to appeasing the ghosts of the slain warriors. We broke
camp that night, and with malicious ingenuity Ward strapped packs on my
shoulders until my back buckled. As he finished and was promising to
thrust his knife into my legs if I displayed any weariness, Cousin's
sister came up and sharply directed him to remove the packs as I was to
serve as a litter-bearer.
"The white woman asks for him," she said. "Catahecassa gives him to me to
help carry the medicine-woman."
Ward raged, but Black Hoof upheld the girl; and although I knew Patricia
was too insensible of her surroundings to ask for any one, I was keen to
serve her. Lost Sister had fashioned a rude litter out of rawhide and two
saplings, slack between the poles so the girl could not roll out. To my
surprise she stepped between the saplings at the forward end and called on
me to pick up the other end and march. I considered it to be a man's work,
but she made nothing of it, and never called a halt that she might rest.
In the morning the hunters brought in some deer-meat and turkeys, and we
camped long enough to eat. Once more Ward endeavored to prevail upon the
chief to put me out of the way. He played upon Black Hoof's superstitions
very cunningly by declaring the war-medicine would be very weak until I
was killed. The chief was impressed, else he never would have come to
stare at me.
It happened, however, that Patricia was delirious, and it was my hand on
her head that seemed to quiet her. Lost Sister told a noble lie by
volunteering the information that it was my presence that kept the girl
quiet. Black Hoof and his braves had a great fear of the girl when she
began her rambling talk. They believed she was surrounded by ghosts and
talking with them. So Ward's request was refused, and stern orders were
given that I should not be harmed. When the home villages were reached, he
added, I might be burned.
When we made our second camp on the Kanawha I called Black Hoof to me. I
had been staked out in spread-eagle fashion and my guards had placed
saplings across my body and were preparing to lie down on the ends at each
side of me. I assured the chief there was no danger of my running away, as
my medicine would wither and die, did I forsake the great manito's child;
and I asked him to relieve me of the cords and saplings. He told the
warriors to omit the cords.
The next time we halted to snatch a few hours' sleep he ordered that no
more saplings be placed across me, that it would be sufficient to tie my
ankles and wrists. This was a great relief. During this portion of the
march the girl seemed oblivious to her surroundings, also to the fact that
she was a captive. She showed a strong preference for Lost Sister's
company, and would glance about worriedly if the young woman left her
sight.
So it devolved on the two of us, both white, to care for her. There were
times when she babbled of faraway scenes, of Williamsburg and her old
home, of the streets of Norfolk and Richmond. She talked with those she
had known as children. When in this condition the Indians were glad to
keep away from us. Even Ward would not willingly remain within hearing of
her sweet voice could he avoid so doing. And alas! There were other times
when she was almost violent, when only Lost Sister could soothe and quiet
her.
By the time we reached the mouth of the Great Kanawha no guard was kept
over me that I could perceive; nor were my limbs any longer bound at
night. At each camp Lost Sister ranged the woods and brought in roots and
herbs and made strange-smelling messes in a camp kettle and assiduously
dosed the girl.
Rafts were quickly knocked together and the crossing made to the Indian
shore. I had expected the band to dig out hidden canoes and descend to the
mouth of the Scioto. Instead we struck into a trail across-country. The
path was well worn, and the fork we followed ended at the Scioto above
Chillicothe, the principal Shawnee town.
Much of the distance Patricia walked, although the litter was taken along
for her convenience. Lost Sister talked with me at times and I began to
feel that the barrier between us was much lower. But she never spoke of
the settlements or her brother. Her talk was always a red talk and she
never addressed me except in Shawnee.
From her I learned we were making for Cornstalk's Town, some twenty-five
miles above Chillicothe, located on Scippo Creek. Among border men this
region was known as the Pickaway Plains. Near our destination was
Grenadier Squaw's Town, named after Cornstalk's gigantic sister.
I suffered no incivility during the overland march. My status became that
of an attendant on the great manito's medicine-child. Patricia continued
in a dazed state of mind, but after two days of arduous travel I detected
her weeping. Lost Sister enigmatically warned:
"She is another woman. She is more like the woman she once was. She must
keep close to her manito."
I could interpret this only to mean that the girl was recovering from her
mental shock and was recalling bits of the past, and that she was safe
only so long as the savages believed her to be insane. At our last camp
from Cornstalk's Town Patricia insisted on walking beside me when the
trace would permit it and she startled me by saying:
"My father was good to me."
"Do you remember me?" I asked.
"Remember you, Basdel? Why, of course. What a queer question." Then with a
little frown she sighed and complained. "But I don't understand why I am
here with you and these Indians. I wonder if it is a bad dream, if I will
soon wake up."
I blundered along the best I could, striving to say nothing which might
upset her. She suddenly refused to talk and began displaying much physical
nervousness. Lost Sister promptly took her in hand and led her some
distance in advance of me. That was the day the band split up, the bulk of
the warriors leaving to go to their different villages. Half a dozen
remained to press on to Cornstalk's Town.
Ward was among those who left us and he was unwilling to go. His departure
was a great relief to me. His presence frightened the girl, although she
gave no sign of remembering him as having been a factor in her life. It
was due entirely to Lost Sister's appeal to Black Hoof that the renegade
was ordered to Chillicothe.
As he was leaving us he promised me:
"I'll yet see you eating fire. That white squaw will see me again."
"I'll dance your mangy scalp some time," I retorted.
Whereat he used terms of abuse he had picked up from traders, and I struck
him with my fist. Black Hoof stopped him from killing me, and threatened
me with torture if I offended again. Then he ordered Ward to go.
The chief continued with us to Cornstalk's Town, but Cornstalk was not
there; so he went in search of him at Grenadier Squaw's Town. Before
leaving he gave orders that I was not to be molested so long as I did not
attempt to escape. The town was inhabited by women and children largely,
with a dozen men left to act as hunters.
It was plain that the fighting men of the tribe were gathering somewhere,
probably at Chillicothe. Patricia was believed to be in touch with the
manito, and was feared and respected accordingly. The days that followed
were not unhappy for me; and Patricia appeared to be contented in a numb
sort of way.
My own reaction to the anxieties and fears of our captivity devitalized me
to a certain degree, I believed; else, I would not have been contented to
settle down to the drowsy existence of village life. I did no hunting. I
was a companion to the girl when she wished for my company. Aside from
that capacity the Indians looked on me as if I had been a tree.
I talked on general subjects with Lost Sister, always waiting for her to
blaze the trace our words were to follow. Her red husband remained aloof
from her from the day she took charge of Patricia. Whether he resented her
companionship with us I do not know, and after our arrival he disappeared
for a time.
I discovered I was lacking in curiosity as to what each morrow had in
store for us. It savored of the indifference of the fatalist. But I did
come to the alert when I observed Patricia was rapidly returning to
normal. I remembered Lost Sister's warning, "She must keep close to her
manito." I was forced to repeat these words to her.
It was one of the hardest tasks I ever undertook. She suffered deeply when
she began to grasp my meaning. She began to remember things concretely.
Yet life was the stake, and the fact that my life was also involved helped
her much. With the aid of Lost Sister I taught her how to be ever on her
guard, how to carry herself when in the presence of the silent but ever
watchful Indians.
Once the shock wore off somewhat she found it was not difficult to keep up
her rôle. The most effective way to allay any suspicion was for her to
talk aloud to herself. The savages believed she was holding conversation
with inmates of the invisible world, and drew away from her. But while she
improved, my lethargy continued. My physical and mental strength seemed to
be sapped. I was content to lie on the bank of the creek, my mind idling
with vagaries.
Some six weeks passed in this desultory fashion, then Cornstalk and Black
Hoof returned to the village with three warriors and a negro woman. The
woman had been captured at Sapling Grove within three hundred yards of
Captain Evan Shelby's house, the woman told me. She also informed me that
her captors were led by a very large man, much whiter than any of his
companions, and that he talked good English.
This description fitted either John Logan or Will Emery, the Cherokee
half-breed. I decided the man was Logan. The woman was treated kindly.
Immediately on arrival the two chiefs retired to a wigwam for a long talk.
Then Black Hoof sent for me and Patricia. I warned her to pay no attention
to them, and to talk much to herself. She acted admirably and was kept in
the wigwam only a few minutes.
Cornstalk had watched her closely, and both he and Black Hoof were uneasy
and relieved when she departed. Toward me their manner was incisive, and
they demanded certain information. As I knew conditions had changed vastly
since I was captured I talked freely and improvised considerably. There
was no military value whatever to the news that I imparted.
Cornstalk, who was a large man and of a commanding appearance, and
possessing unusual intellectual powers, was keen to learn about
individuals, especially about Daniel Boone. He asked how many men Boone
could lead against the Shawnees. I told him all the border men would be
glad to serve under him, that he was collecting fighting men when I was
taken prisoner.
"Your tongue is split," Cornstalk warned. "Be careful, or we will say that
young medicine-woman does not need a liar to care for her. Be careful, or
your tongue will be pulled out. The Shawnees will be glad to warm
themselves at your fire. That man was sent to the Falls of the Ohio. He
has returned to the settlements. He commands three forts in the lower
valleys. Will he head riflemen to battle, or stay at the forts?"
I truthfully answered that I believed he would be given an important
command. And I explained how Colonel Lewis would be over him as he would
be over many other brave leaders. They knew Lewis and feared him. Their
faces were very glum until I repeated Connolly's message to Charles Lewis
that peace with the tribes was very possible. Then they smiled grimly and
Cornstalk informed me.
"Your Dunmore ordered his Long Knives to march against Shawnee towns ten
sleeps after you were captured."[5]
I was startled at the information and glanced through the opening of the
wigwam as if expecting to see the lean militia men breaking from the
woods. The chief added:
"But they seem to have trouble in starting. Perhaps they are very old men
and can not walk fast. I shall send my young men across the Ohio to dig
them out of the mud."
"The Cherokees will not join the Shawnees," I ventured.
Cornstalk eyed me menacingly.
"They will not because they have old women among them. They put their
powder in bags, and put the bags in caves. Their powder is spoiled. After
I whip your army the Cherokees will carry their axes into the Carolinas."
I believed the Cherokees would do this, if our army were whipped. Turning
to Black Hoof, Cornstalk asked:
"How long before you roast this white man?"
"After we have whipped the army of Dunmore and Lewis and Boone. Now he
waits on the medicine-woman. After the battle there will be many white
women to wait on her."
I was dismissed and on reaching the open air I discovered I had left all
my apathy behind me. The importance of time and the imperative need of
immediate action was burned into my brain by Black Hoof's words. I sought
Patricia and found her seated on the bank, staring into the sluggish
waters.
"I was thinking of you, Basdel," she greeted, and she reached her hand to
me. "I was remembering what I said in Salem about your rifle. I'm sorry. I
did wrong."
"Heavens, child! Abuse the rifle all you will!"
"It was abuse of you and of all that your rifle stood for. I mocked you
because you were from the border. Poor father! He knew many Indians, but
he did not understand them. Town ways seem mighty small and of no account
now."
"Patsy, you must get a grip on yourself. We must get clear of this village
at once. We must get back to Virginia."
She shivered and her eyes dilated as she stared at me and she muttered:
"I dread the woods, the silence, the darkness. The wolves howling at
night. Worst of all is the creeping horror of being chased. No! No! I
can't stand any more, Basdel. The black horror comes over me when I let
myself think of it. The dank woods--the silence--the awful stealth of
night. No, no, Basdel. Let me die here."
"Patsy, grip yourself! You can't stay among these beggars. They think you
are insane. That's why they've spared you. But there's going to be a
battle soon. If they win they'll bring many prisoners here. You must not
be here then."
She interrupted me with a little heart-broken cry and clapped her hands to
her eyes to blot out some horrid picture. It was harsh, but the way she
was inclining led to permanent madness.
"We will steal away and make the Ohio. The Indians are busy planning for
the big battle. They'll not spare many men to seek us. I will take you
back to Virginia and across the mountains."
"Or we will both die," she whispered. "That wouldn't be bad. To die and be
out of it all--But I mustn't speak for you, Basdel."
"You speak for both of us," I comforted. "Death isn't terrible. This is."
And I swept my hand in a half-circle at the Shawnee wigwams forming the
village. "Say nothing to Cousin's sister. I will make my plans at once. A
gun, some powder and lead, and then we will go."
"And never come back to them alive?" she insisted, and she leaned forward
and stared intently into my eyes.
"Never alive, sweetheart."
"That is much better," she quietly remarked. "And here comes my sister.
She has been very good to me. I wish we could take her with us. Over the
mountains, or to death."
"She refused to go over the mountains with her brother. We must tell her
nothing," I warned.
Lost Sister gave me a quick glance as she came up. She gazed at Patricia
in silence for a moment, then warned:
"The white woman must keep close to her manito. The eyes of the eagle and
the ears of the fox are in this village."
"She is having bad thoughts," I told her. "Lead her thoughts through new
paths."
As I strolled away I heard her beginning a Shawnee myth, in which it was
explained why the wet-hawk feeds while flying, and how the small
turkey-buzzard got its tufted head.
According to the notches cut in my long stick it was the first day of
September. Now that Cornstalk was back and in conference with Black Hoof
the village became a center of importance. Notable chiefs and medicine-men
of the northern tribes began to assemble. Lost Sister pointed out to me
Puck-e-shin-wa, father of a six-year-old boy, who was to become one of the
most remarkable Indian characters in our history, under the name of
Tecumseh.
Young Ellinipsico, son of Cornstalk, was there, gay in his war-trappings
and eager for the battle. Blue Jacket, another famous Shawnee chief and
warrior, was in attendance. Of the allied tribes I saw Chiyawee the
Wyandot, Scoppathus the Mingo, Redhawk the Delaware, and most interesting
of all, John Logan, chief of the Mingos.
He was the son of a French man, who was adopted by the Oneidas, but he
always claimed kin to the Cayuga, the term "Mingo" being loosely applied
by our border men to any fragments of the Iroquois living outside the Long
House in New York Province. Logan came and went inside an hour, spending
all his time in a secret conference with Cornstalk.
I saw him as he strode through the little village, looking neither to
right nor left, saturnine of countenance. He showed his white blood, being
much lighter in complexion than the full-bloods. A warrior walked behind
him, carrying his gun. The chief himself carried a long wand decorated
with the ten or twelve scalps he had taken since Baker and Greathouse
massacred his people at Baker's Bottom.
Young Cherokees, stolen away from their nation to be in at the death of
the white race in Virginia, were present without leaders. Black Hoof's
long absence from the villages was explained when a full score Ottawas
filed into the opening and sang their war-song. Their spokesman loudly
announced that they were but the advance of many of their tribe.
I feared I had waited too long, and was much relieved to learn from Lost
Sister that warriors and chiefs were to move to Chillicothe at once and
there await the coming of the western bands. Their going would leave our
village practically deserted except for aged and broken men and the women
and children.
Lost Sister said her husband was eager to take the path, and that it was
Cornstalk's plan to cross the Ohio instead of waiting to be attacked in
his own country. She was vague as to the chief's exact plans once he had
crossed the river, but by joining her brief statements together I was led
to believe Cornstalk had learned that the Virginia forces had been split
into two armies, and that the masterly red strategist planned to surprise
and annihilate one, and then attack the second. This information alone was
of sufficient importance for me to risk my life many times in order to
apprise my superiors of the trap being set for them.
By the time the sun was half-way down the afternoon sky all the chiefs
were moving down the river bound for Chillicothe. Young Ellinipsico and a
mixed band of warriors were left to arrange for guarding the girl. He
would depart for Chillicothe on the morrow. I went in search of the girl
and met Lost Sister standing by a big honey-tree. She asked me if I had
seen her husband, and looked worried when I shook my head.
"He said he would not go without seeing me, and yet he is not here in the
village. Your white woman--she walks far from her manito. It is bad for
her."
"She must leave here," I boldly said. "I must take her away." I had had no
intention of taking her into my confidence, but I realized it would be
impossible to make a start without her missing the girl. So I took the
desperate course and did what I had warned Patricia not to do.
She drew her knife and cut some straight marks on the honey-tree.
"You see those?" she asked.
I bowed my head. Without explaining the relevancy of her question, she
turned and walked rapidly toward the village. I stared at the marks and
they told me nothing. There was nothing pictorial about them. I followed
her among the wigwams, and was in time to see her leading Patricia into
her wigwam. I sauntered after them, obsessed by the notion that strange
forces were at work. The village seemed to be quiet and sleepy and yet the
air was surcharged with threats of things about to happen.
When the storm broke it was from a quarter entirely different from
anything I could have imagined. My first intimation that something unusual
was happening was when a Shawnee ran into the village and began talking to
Ellinipsico, who was lounging sleepily on the grass before his father's
wigwam. I heard Ellinipsico exclaim:
"He must not be hurt. He has felt the hand of the great manito on his
head."
I looked about for a weapon, so that I might go down fighting, for I first
thought the stranger Indians were demanding me for a plaything, not
understanding my true status as servant to the medicine-woman. I knew this
was not the solution of the affair when Ellinipsico jumped to his feet and
ran to the edge of the village, at every bound shouting to the Ottawas to
hurry back to the village.
A loud outcry answered him from the forest. To my amazement Ellinipsico
slowed down his mad pace and appeared to be reluctant to enter the woods.
The few Shawnees and Mingos in the village followed his example in
timidity. Then above the war-cry of the Ottawas rose the roar of Baby
Kirst, punctuated by the crack of a rifle and the death-yell of a savage.
Now I understood. The Ottawas, ignorant of Kirst's condition, had met him
blundering through the woods and had essayed to halt his progress. He
promptly had offered fight, and they were at it, with the odds greatly in
favor of the Indians. In my excitement I ran to where Ellinipsico stood.
He was dancing with rage and fright. Beholding me, he ordered me to dive
into the growth and stop the fight.
I glanced back and saw Lost Sister and Patricia leaving the wigwam. Lost
Sister began leading her charge toward the south end of the village and
jerked her head at me as though calling on me to follow. It was driven
into my mind that this was the time to escape with the girl. I plunged
into the woods and no Indian cared to dog my steps.
I made as if to go to the scene of the fearful confusion, but once out of
sight of Ellinipsico and his men I turned to intercept the course taken by
Lost Sister and Patricia. I miscalculated the distance, or else the
combatants made a rapid shift of ground, for before I knew it I was
standing on the edge of a most ferocious struggle. Kirst was still mounted
and bleeding from a dozen wounds. His long rifle was being swung for a
club.
My first view of him was as he splintered the butt on an Ottawa head. He
bawled in triumph. The Ottawas, expecting no diversion so near the
village, were armed only with their knives and axes. A fellow leaped on to
the horse and tried to stab him from behind, and one immense hand reached
back and caught him by the neck and held him in midair, and squeezed the
life from the painted body, and then hurled him among the remaining
warriors.
The girl must come first, but it was not in my heart to pass without
contributing something to Kirst's advantage. I snatched up a war-club,
dropped by a slain savage, and hurled it into the thick of them, bowling
over two. Kirst's horse went down, disemboweled. Now Kirst was at a great
disadvantage, but his long arms gathered up two of the Ottawas, and I
heard their ribs crack, as with a pleased grunt the simple fellow
contracted his embrace.
But now they were piling upon him, striking and stabbing, a living mound
which for the moment concealed the big fellow. Then the mass began to
disintegrate, and savages staggered back and fell dead, or suffering from
terrible wounds. Kirst rose to his feet only to fall on his face as if
shot through the head, although he received no wound at the time that I
could perceive.
My last glance was fleeting, but it sufficed to count six silent forms of
Ottawas who would never cross the Ohio to attack Lord Dunmore's armies.
One Indian, gasping with pain, with both arms hanging like rags, lurched
by me but not seeing me, his gaping mouth trying to sound his death-song.
Ellinipsico was calling on his men to follow him, and I sped away.
Baby Kirst had fulfilled his destiny and would babble his way through the
forests no more. The force which had destroyed his reason had paid the
full price the law of compensation had worked out.
Could I find the girl without returning to the village I hoped the
confusion resulting from the bloody struggle would permit me to steal away
with her. I swung back toward the opening and soon discovered Patricia and
Lost Sister. The latter on beholding me called me by name, the first time
she had ever done so. As I ran to them she fiercely said:
"Take your white woman and go! Cross the Ohio but do not go up the
Kanawha. Follow the Guyandotte or Sandy, into the valley of the Clinch.
You must hurry!"
As if the day had not been hideous enough a bepainted warrior burst
through the undergrowth as she finished, with his bow raised and an arrow
drawn to the head. Beneath the war vermilion, I recognized Lost Sister's
husband. She threw out her arms and smiled scornfully and cried:
"You hide in the bushes to watch me? I thought so."
Then she was down with an arrow buried to the feathers.
I leaped into the bushes and grappled with the murderer before he could
draw another arrow from his quiver. He dropped his bow and endeavored to
hurl me to the ground. As we whirled about I saw Patricia kneeling beside
Lost Sister and striving to pet her back to life. One glimpse, and then
all my attention was needed for my adversary. He was quicker than I, and
his freshly oiled body made him hard to hold; but I was far the stronger.
"His knife, Basdel; Look out;" screamed Patricia; and I was glad to note
there was no madness in her voice.
I had him by his right wrist, my left arm shoved under his chin and into
his red throat. The girl's gaze sent my gaze downward. He was trying to
work the knife from its sheath before I could force him backward or break
his neck. But the sheath was too long for the knife and he could not reach
the handle with his fingers until he had forced the blade upward by
pinching the tip of the sheath. I did not try to interfere with his
maneuver, but settled myself solidly to hold him from escaping.
"The knife, Basdel!" she shrilly repeated. Then she nearly upset my
calculations by trying to thrust a bough between my foe's feet. Only by a
nimble maneuver did I escape being tripped; but it was heartening to know
Patricia could respond to my needs.
"Stand clear!" I panted. "I have him!"
"But the knife!" she despairingly cried.
"He's getting it for me!" I replied.
Now he had managed to work the haft clear of the leather and his left hand
was closing on it. His eyes told me that much. Instantly I changed my
tactics. I dropped my left arm to seize his left wrist. I released his
right wrist and with my free hand tore the weapon from his grasp. He
struck me in the head with his free fist, but I felt it none as he did not
have the white man's trick of delivering a buffet. We went down side by
side, and by the time we had rolled over once he was dead by his own
knife.
Retaining the weapon, I ran to Patricia as she collapsed by the side of
the dying woman.
"I am all right! Get up!" I commanded.
Cousin's sister smiled grimly, and whispered:
"He has been watching us. He saw me come here when I scratched the tree.
He has been hiding--The marks I made on the honey-tree--Look behind
it--the pea-vines--. Tell Shelby I send him a little sister--" And she had
solved all her problems, and had passed into the compassion of the manito
whose gentleness and understanding surpass all comprehension.
Patricia was weeping softly, as one who sorrows with an aching heart, but
not as one who is afraid. I gathered her up in my arms and made for the
honey-tree close by. I stood her on her feet, and exhorted her to be brave
as the time had come for us to take to flight. I plunged into the
pea-vines behind the tree. A new thrill of life fired me as I fished out
my own rifle, a powder-horn, shot-pouch and linen patches. Cousin's sister
had even remembered to provide a roll of buckskin and an awl for mending
our moccasins, and a small package of smoked meat.
Thus armed once more I took the girl's hand and stole through the woods,
following the well-beaten path that led to Chillicothe, and planning to
swing to the east and skirt the town under the cover of darkness. I
desired to emerge on the Ohio at a point opposite the mouth of the Big
Sandy. For some time we could hear the wailing and howling of the Shawnees
in Cornstalk's Town as they mourned for the dead Ottawas, and Patricia was
sadly frightened. My ears were tingling for fear they would catch the cry
of discovery, but young Ellinipsico was there instead of Black Hoof, and
our flight was undiscovered.
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[5] Expedition against Indian towns ordered July 24th. Boone
returned from Kentucky to the settlements August 27th.