ALONE IN THE WILDERNESS
In the winter of 1768-69 a pedler with horse and wagon wandered into the
valley of the upper Yadkin, offering small wares to the settlers' wives.
This was thrifty John Finley, former fur-trader and Indian fighter, who,
thirteen years before, had, as we have seen, fraternized with Boone in
Braddock's ill-fated army on the Monongahela. Finley had, in 1752, in
his trade with the Indians, descended the Ohio in a canoe to the site of
Louisville, accompanied by three or four voyageurs, and, with some of
his dusky customers, traveled widely through the interior of Kentucky.
His glowing descriptions of this beautiful land had inspired Boone to
try to find it. The latter was still sorrowing over his unpromising
expedition by way of the Big Sandy when, by the merest chance, the man
who had fired his imagination knocked at his very door.
Throughout the winter that Finley was Daniel's guest, he and his brother
Squire were ready listeners to the pedler's stories of the over-mountain
country--tales of countless water-fowl, turkeys, deer, elk, and
buffaloes, which doubtless lost nothing in the telling. The two Boones
resolved to try Finley's proposed route by way of Cumberland Gap, and
the fur-trader promised to lead the way.
After the spring crops were in, Finley, Daniel Boone, and the latter's
brother-in-law, John Stuart, started from Daniel's house upon the first
of May. In their employ, as hunters and camp-keepers, were three
neighbors--Joseph Holden, James Mooney, and William Cooley. Each man was
fully armed, clad in the usual deerskin costume of the frontier, and
mounted upon a good horse; blanket or bearskin was strapped on behind
the saddle, together with camp-kettle, a store of salt, and a small
supply of provisions, although their chief food was to be game. Squire
remained to care for the crops of the two families, and agreed to
reenforce the hunters late in the autumn.
Scaling the lofty Blue Ridge, the explorers passed over Stone and Iron
Mountains and reached Holston Valley, whence they proceeded through
Moccasin Gap of Clinch Mountain, and crossed over intervening rivers and
densely wooded hills until they came to Powell's Valley, then the
farthest limit of white settlement. Here they found a hunter's trail
which led them through Cumberland Gap. The "warriors' path"--trodden by
Indian war-parties from across the mountains--was now discovered, and
this they followed by easy stages until at last they reached what is now
called Station Camp Creek, a tributary of the Kentucky River, in Estill
County, Ky.--so named because here was built their principal, or
"station" camp, the center of their operations for many months to come.
While Boone, Finley, and Stuart made frequent explorations, and Boone in
particular ascended numerous lofty hills in order to view the country,
the chief occupation of the party was hunting. Throughout the summer and
autumn deerskins were in their best condition. Other animals were
occasionally killed to afford variety of food, but fur-bearers as a
rule only furnish fine pelts in the winter season. Even in the days of
abundant game the hunter was required to exercise much skill, patience,
and endurance. It was no holiday task to follow this calling. Deer,
especially, were difficult to obtain. The habits of this excessively
cautious animal were carefully studied; the hunter must know how to
imitate its various calls, to take advantage of wind and weather, and to
practise all the arts of strategy.
Deerskins were, all things considered, the most remunerative of all.
When roughly dressed and dried they were worth about a dollar each; as
they were numerous, and a horse could carry for a long distance about a
hundred such skins, the trade was considered profitable in those
primitive times, when dollars were hard to obtain. Pelts of beavers,
found in good condition only in the winter, were worth about two dollars
and a half each, and of otters from three to five dollars. Thus, a
horse-load of beaver furs, when obtainable, was worth about five times
that of a load of deerskins; and if a few otters could be thrown in, the
value was still greater. The skins of buffaloes, bears, and elks were
too bulky to carry for long distances, and were not readily marketable.
A few elk-hides were needed, however, to cut up into harness and straps,
and bear- and buffalo-robes were useful for bedding.
When an animal was killed the hunter skinned it on the spot, and packed
on his back the hide and the best portion of the meat. At night the meat
was smoked or prepared for "jerking," and the skins were scraped and
cured. When collected at the camps, the bales of skins, protected from
the weather by strips of bark, were placed upon high scaffolds, secure
from bears and wolves.
Our Yadkin hunters were in the habit, each day, of dividing themselves
into pairs for company and mutual aid in times of danger, usually
leaving one pair behind as camp-keepers. Boone and Stuart frequently
were companions upon such trips; for the former, being a man of few
words, enjoyed by contrast the talkative, happy disposition of his
friend. Occasionally the entire party, when the game grew timid, moved
for some distance, where they would establish a new camp; but their
headquarters remained at Station Camp, where were kept their principal
skins, furs, and stores. In this way the time passed from June to
December. Boone used to assert, in after years, that these months were
the happiest of his life. The genial climate, the beauty of the country,
and the entire freedom of this wild life, strongly appealed to him. Here
this taciturn but good-natured man, who loved solitary adventure, was
now in his element. Large packs of skins had been obtained by the little
company and stored at Station Camp and their outlying shelters; and
there was now a generous supply of buffalo, bear, and elk meat, venison,
and turkeys, all properly jerked for the winter which was before them,
with buffalo tallow and bear's oil to serve as cooking grease.
Finley and Boone were both aware that Kentucky lay between the warring
tribes of the North and the South; that through it warriors' paths
crossed in several directions; and that this, probably the finest
hunting-field in North America, was a debatable land, frequently fought
over by contending savages--a "dark and bloody ground" indeed. Yet thus
far there had been no signs of Indians, and the Carolina hunters had
almost ceased to think of them.
Toward the close of day on the twenty-second of December, while Boone
and Stuart were ascending a low hill near the Kentucky River, in one of
the most beautiful districts they had seen, they were suddenly
surrounded and captured by a large party of Shawnese horsemen returning
from an autumn hunt on Green River to their homes north of the Ohio. The
two captives were forced to lead the savages to their camps, which were
deliberately plundered, one after the other, of everything in them. The
Shawnese, releasing their prisoners, considerately left with each hunter
just enough supplies to enable him to support himself on the way back to
the settlements. The white men were told what was a fact under existing
treaties with the tribes--treaties, however, of which Boone and his
companions probably knew nothing--that they were trespassing upon Indian
hunting-grounds, and must not come again, or "the wasps and
yellow-jackets will sting you severely."
The others proposed to leave for home at once; but Boone and Stuart,
enraged at having lost their year's work and all that they had brought
into the wilderness, and having no sympathy for Indian treaty rights,
started out to recover their property. After two days they came up with
the Shawnese, and secreting themselves in the bushes until dark,
contrived to regain four or five horses and make off with them. But
they, in turn, were overtaken in two days by the Indians and again made
prisoners. After a week of captivity, in which they were kindly treated,
they effected their escape in the dark and returned to Station Camp.
Their companions, giving them up for lost, had departed toward home, but
were overtaken by the two adventurers. Boone was gratified to find with
them his brother Squire, who, having gathered the fall crops, had come
out with a fresh supply of horses, traps, and ammunition. He had
followed the trail of his predecessors, and in the New River region was
joined by Alexander Neely. Not finding Daniel and Stuart at Station
Camp, and grief-stricken at the report concerning them, he was traveling
homeward with the party.
Daniel, however, who had staked upon this venture almost all that he
owned, did not relish the thought of returning empty-handed, now that
reenforcements had arrived, and determined to stay and seek to regain
his lost fortunes. Squire, Stuart, and Neely concluded also to remain,
and the four were now left behind in the wilderness. On reaching the
Holston Valley, Finley turned northward to seek his relatives in
Pennsylvania; while Holden, Mooney, and Cooley proceeded southeastward
to their Yadkin homes, carrying dismal news of the events attending this
notable exploration of Kentucky.
The quartette promptly abandoned Station Camp as being dangerously near
the warriors' path, and, tradition says, built another on or near the
northern bank of Kentucky River, not far from the mouth of the Red. The
deer season was now over, but beavers and otters were in their prime,
and soon the hunters were enjoying a profitable season. A small canoe
which they built added greatly to their equipment, and they were now
enabled to set their traps throughout a wide region.
Hunting in pairs, Daniel was generally accompanied by Stuart, while
Neely and Squire were partners. In their wanderings the two pairs were
sometimes several days without seeing each other; and frequently
partners would be separated throughout the day, but at night met at some
appointed spot. One day, toward the close of January or early in
February (1770), Stuart did not return to the rendezvous, much to
Boone's alarm. The following day the latter discovered the embers of a
fire, doubtless built by the lost man; but that was all, for Stuart was
seen no more. Five years later Boone came across the bones of his
light-hearted comrade in a hollow sycamore tree upon Rockcastle
River--he recognized them by Stuart's name cut upon his powder-horn.
What caused Stuart's death is a mystery to the present day; possibly he
was wounded and chased by Indians to this distant spot, and died while
in hiding.
Stuart's mysterious disappearance frightened Neely, who at once left for
home, thus leaving Daniel and Squire to pass the remainder of the winter
in the wilderness by themselves. Dejected, but not discouraged, the
brothers built a comfortable hut and continued their work. With the
close of the trapping season the ammunition was nearly exhausted. Upon
the first of May, a year after Daniel had left his cabin upon the upper
Yadkin, Squire started out upon the return, their horses well laden with
furs, skins, and jerked meat. Both men had, in their enterprise,
contracted debts of considerable extent for frontier hunters, hence they
were anxious to square themselves with the world, as well as to obtain
more horses, ammunition, and miscellaneous supplies.
Daniel was now left alone in Kentucky, "without bread, salt, or sugar,
without company of his fellow-creatures, or even a horse or dog." In
after years he acknowledged that he was at times homesick during the
three months which followed, and felt deeply his absence from the wife
and family to whom he was so warmly attached. But possessing a
cheerful, hopeful nature, he forgot his loneliness in untrammeled
enjoyment of the far-stretching wilderness.
Almost without ammunition, he could not hunt, save to obtain sufficient
food, and largely spent his time in exploration. Fearing Indians, he
frequently changed his location, sometimes living in shelters of bark
and boughs, and again in caves; but seldom venturing to sleep in these
temporary homes, preferring the thickets and the dense cane-brakes as
less liable to be sought by savage prowlers.
Kentucky has a remarkably diversified landscape of densely wooded hills
and valleys and broad prairie expanses. The genial climate admirably
suited the philosophical wanderer. He enjoyed the exquisite beauty and
stateliness of the trees--the sycamores, tulip-trees, sugar-trees,
honey-locusts, coffee-trees, pawpaws, cucumber-trees, and black
mulberries--and found flowers in surprising variety and loveliness. The
mineral springs interested him--Big Lick, the Blue Licks, and Big Bone
Lick, with its fossil remains of mastodons which had become mired when
coming to lick the brackish soil. He traveled far and wide in his search
for the beautiful and curious, being chiefly in the valleys of the
Licking and the Kentucky, and upon the banks of the Ohio as far down as
the site of Louisville, where, at the foot of the falls, he inspected
the remains of an old fur trade stockade concerning which Finley had
told him.
Once he saw some Indians walking upon the northern bank of the Ohio, but
managed himself to keep out of sight. At another time, when on the
Kentucky, he saw a savage calmly fishing from the trunk of a fallen
tree. In mentioning this incident to his family, in later days, he would
declare with gravity: "While I was looking at the fellow he tumbled into
the river, and I saw him no more." Probably the man of the Yadkin shot
him, fearing that the fisherman might carry the news of the former's
whereabouts to a possible camp near by. On another occasion, when
exploring Dick's River, he was suddenly surrounded by Indians. Having
either to surrender or to leap down the precipitous height to a bank
sixty feet below, he chose to leap. Landing in the top of a small
sugar-maple, he slid down the tree, and was able to escape by running
under the overhanging bank and then swimming the stream. Adventures such
as this gave abundant spice to the joys of solitude.
In the latter part of July Squire arrived from the settlements, having
paid all their debts and with the surplus purchased sufficient supplies
for another summer and fall campaign against the deer. This was highly
successful. They did not lack some interesting experiences, but Indians
were not again encountered; so that, when winter approached, Squire was
enabled once more to leave with well-laden horses for the markets of the
East. Another two months of loneliness were suffered by Daniel; but in
December Squire rejoined him with horses, ammunition, and other
necessaries, and the pair joyously settled down for still another winter
together in the dark and lonely forests of Kentucky.