THE CAPTURE
Several days of hard work followed the arrival of the party at the salt
springs. Fireplaces had to be made, boilers arranged, and the water
evaporated, leaving its deposit of salt, so necessary in the life of the
people of Boonesborough.
The process, however, was exceedingly slow, although the men toiled day
and night because of their desire to return to their homes, and their
fear of the prowling Indians. On the third day, when the supplies of
food were low, Daniel Boone suggested that he should for a time leave
his companions at their task while he secured some game which might be
prepared for their dinner that night.
Taking his rifle and shaking his head when Peleg offered to accompany
him, the hunter departed. No one expected him to be gone more than an
hour. When, however, three hours had elapsed his friends became
increasingly uneasy. They had relied on their numbers as being a
sufficient protection against the prowling Indians. The savages were
known to be near, and occasionally they had been seen skulking from tree
to tree. Because of this condition, the decision of Daniel Boone to go
alone had been opposed by his companions, and as his absence continued
there was increasing anxiety for his safety.
Meanwhile, if Peleg and his companions had known what had befallen the
scout, they would have had even stronger grounds for their fears.
For some reason Boone was unable to discover any game in the immediate
proximity of the camp, so he proceeded several miles through the forest
in his search. When he halted at last and looked about him he concluded
that he must be at least four miles from the Blue Lick Springs. He was
aware of the peril which might beset a lonely hunter at such times, and
as the afternoon sun was steadily declining, decided to retrace his way
toward camp.
As he turned abruptly he was startled to behold five young Indians
swiftly approaching.
Without hesitating a moment Boone whirled about and ran. Exerting
himself to the utmost, he sped through the forest, closely followed by
his pursuers, who, for some reason which he did not understand, had not
fired upon him.
Capable as Boone was of a long-continued race, speed could not be his
main reliance. He was no longer a young man, and his pursuers were in
the prime of their young manhood.
Glancing behind him, Boone was aware that his enemies were gaining upon
him. Wheeling suddenly he darted into the brush, then leaped into a
swiftly running stream and ran with the current for one hundred feet or
more before he jumped to the bank on the opposite side and once more
resumed his flight.
Apparently, however, it was impossible for him to shake off his
pursuers. Doggedly they held to the chase, and the conviction was
strengthening in Boone's mind that not only were the young warriors
gaining steadily upon him, but also that they were maintaining a pace
which would soon be too great for him to keep up. Indeed it was only a
few minutes later when by an unusual burst of speed his enemies overtook
and surrounded him.
Boone smiled in spite of his peril when he saw that their first demand
was for his rifle. It was plain that they knew who he was and were proud
of their success in capturing the great scout. One of the young Indians
was able to speak a few words of English, and advancing to Boone he
extended his hand as a token of friendship and shook hands after the
manner of the white people.
"Big scout broder," said the young warrior, "No shoot. No kill."
Boone smilingly nodded his head in token of comprehension and without
demur followed his captors as they led him rapidly through the forest.
If he was chagrined or cast down his feeling was not betrayed by his
countenance.
The Indians seldom spoke as they proceeded, and Boone's surprise was
great when after an advance of an hour he was taken into the midst of a
group of one hundred and fifty Shawnee warriors.
Here, too, the hunter was recognized, and there were many expressions of
delight over the capture of the man whom all the Indians of the region
knew and feared. Boone soon was to learn that they also entertained for
him a feeling close to affection.
Apparently unmoved by the peril in which he now found himself, Boone
looked quietly into the faces of the braves and awaited their action.
In a brief time, in the midst of the band, he was conducted back toward
Blue Lick Springs. Surprised at first by the direction in which they
were moving, his fears for his friends increased with every passing
mile. They were outnumbered by the Indians in the approaching party, and
were without his leadership. How would they be able to defend themselves
from an attack?
This question was unanswered when the band arrived within a half mile of
the place they were seeking. Then one of the younger chiefs approached
Boone and said in his broken English: "Big hunter. No hurt. Broders of
big hunter no hurt. No shoot."
"Do you mean," inquired Boone, "that my friends will be taken prisoners
and not shot?"
The Indian laughed, for his pleasure at the apparent success of their
undertaking was manifest, and he said: "No shoot. No kill white broder."
"Do you mean," asked Boone once more, "that if they do not shoot, you
will not?"
"No shoot. No hurt," answered the Indian.
"Which means that you will take us all to your village?"
The Indian nodded in assent.
"And if they do not shoot and you make captives of them, do you promise
that you will not harm them when you take them to your village?"
"No shoot. No hurt," repeated the Indian, nodding his head several times
to add emphasis to his words. "Big scout go with Owaneeyo--tell
broders."
"You want me to tell them that you are here, and that if they do not
shoot then you will not shoot, either, and that you give your word that
they will not be harmed if they go with you to your village?"
The Indian smiled broadly as he said: "Big scout go with Injun--tell
broder. Shawnee no shoot. No hurt white broder. White broder shoot,
Shawnee shoot. No take white broder to village, take white broder
scalp."
For a few moments Boone silently considered. He well knew that it would
be impossible for his friends to escape the united attack of the
Shawnees. Every warrior was armed with a gun, and, as the band
outnumbered the whites nearly five to one, it would be worse than
useless for them to attempt to defend themselves. On the other hand, if
they submitted quietly it might be possible partly to disarm the captors
of their watchfulness, and as there were so many of the whites some
opportunity might arise that would provide an avenue for escape. In the
latter event the chances that more of the men would escape alive were
much better than they would be if they attempted to defend themselves at
the present time.
Accordingly, Boone said to the young chief: "I will go with you to tell
my brothers what the chiefs say if you will come with me unarmed."
For a moment there was an expression of anger or suspicion in the eyes
of the stalwart young Indian, but it quickly passed, and he said: "Big
scout no lie. Owaneeyo go without gun. Tell broders what Owaneeyo say to
scout."
Turning to his companions the young chief gave his command for them to
encircle the springs where the white men were at work. As soon as his
orders had been obeyed he stepped up to Boone and bowed low to indicate
his readiness to accompany the scout.
Without a word both advanced, with Boone moving directly before his
companion. They soon came to the spot where the whites were engaged in
their task, all unaware of the peril that was threatening them.
Many curious glances were given the companion of the scout when Boone
and the chief first appeared. In compliance with Boone's suggestion, the
men gave up their labours and assembled to hear what the chief had to
say.
The speech of Owaneeyo was not long, but every word held a meaning which
strongly impressed the listening settlers.
When the chief ceased speaking Boone himself stepped forward and said:
"My friends, there is nothing else to do. I am sure you would not credit
me with being a coward. I am speaking that which I know. There are at
least one hundred and fifty of the Shawnees here and they are in a
circle all about us right now. We have no defences behind which to
fight, and they are able to pick us off without exposing themselves. If
we run we should find in whatever direction we went that we were going
straight into their arms. They promise us that if we do not fire upon
them they will not shoot any of us. The chief also has agreed to see
that we have good treatment not only here and on our way to their
village, but also after we arrive there."
There were some murmurs of disapproval, but the word and the example of
the scout were both so influential that assent was soon given, and the
chief was told that the white men would make no protest.
At his bidding their rifles were all deposited in one place. A moment
later he emitted a loud call, and almost as if they had sprung from the
ground itself the Shawnees came running to the place where the settlers
were awaiting them.
The entire party soon left the springs, the white prisoners being
scattered among the warriors in such a manner that no two were able to
converse. In spite of the fierce glances of some of the braves, there
was slight fear on Boone's part that the word of Owaneeyo would be
broken. Cruel the Indian might be in his own way, and treacherous
according to the standards of the whites, but his promise, once having
been given, was binding.
The band moved rapidly, stopping only occasionally by night. Not one of
the prisoners was aware what Indian village was to be their destination,
although the scout, from his familiarity with the region through which
they were conducted, was convinced that they were being taken to the
place called Chillicothe.
His surmise proved to be correct, and on the fifth day the returning
party with their prisoners arrived at the capital of the Shawnees. Their
coming was greeted with cries and shouts and many expressions of delight
by the Indians of Chillicothe. To these, however, the warriors gave
slight heed, and the prisoners endeavoured to follow their example,
though it was difficult for some of them completely to assume an air of
indifference. What the fate of the captives was to be was not to be
known until the following day.