AN OFFER OF RELEASE
There had been slight opportunity for Peleg to have any conversation
with his friend throughout the march.
The Indians, rejoiced over their success in making a prisoner of the
great scout, nevertheless appeared to be fearful lest the man whom they
valued so highly should escape. Throughout the journey the prisoners
were treated with consideration, although when night came and the halts
were made for rest the white men were compelled to sleep within a circle
formed by their captors. In this way they were deprived of every
possibility of escape. When, however, they had arrived at the old
village of Chillicothe, there were a few minutes when Daniel Boone and
Peleg and several of their comrades were left together in the wigwam
into which they had been thrust.
"Peleg," said Daniel Boone in a low voice, "what a mistake our enemies
have made."
"What do you mean?" inquired Peleg quickly.
"If they had taken us to Boonesborough or to Logan's Fort and there had
shown us to the settlers they could have demanded almost any price they
might choose for our ransom."
"Will they not do it yet?" inquired Peleg.
"I hardly think so," replied the scout, shaking his head. "The Indians
are like children in many ways. When they have been successful, either
on the warpath or in the chase, they immediately return to their friends
to celebrate their good fortune with them. They are easily elated, and
are almost childish in seeking the praise of those whose opinions they
value. That is the reason why they have come back to the village with
their twenty-eight prisoners."
"What will happen to us?" inquired Peleg anxiously.
"That no man can say. All that I am sure of is that we must bear
whatever comes in the spirit of those who know that it is the best thing
that could happen for every one of us."
"If they burn us at the stake?" inquired Peleg bitterly.
"Yes, even if they burn us at the stake. It will be hard to bear if they
do that, but I am not without hope that they will adopt some other
course."
"They may make us run the gauntlet."
"Yes, they may," admitted Boone, "but there is one thing, Peleg, we do
not have to do."
"What is that, sir?"
"We do not have to bear anything before it comes. All that any man can
do is to prepare for what may befall him, and then, whatever comes, bear
it like a man. But he who worries over his troubles before they arrive
is in no condition to bear them after they come."
"I know that is your way of thinking," said Peleg, "but I have not
learned it yet."
"That's the correct word, Peleg."
"What word?" inquired the younger scout quickly.
"The word 'learned,' No one has it at the beginning of his life. Even
Preacher Lythe told us one time that he, like Paul, 'learned' in
whatsoever state he was, therewith to be content."
"So have you!" said Peleg cordially.
Boone smiled and shook his head as he replied: "I have learned not to
reveal all my feelings. Beyond that I cannot say. But I am so fully
convinced that whatever befalls me in this life is part of a great plan,
that it would be foolish for me to complain or whine. Whatever happens,
no one shall ever be able to say that he heard a whimper from Daniel
Boone. Whate'er may come to us, lad, do not let any of these Shawnees
see that you are in the least cast down."
"I shall do my best."
"I am hopeful," said Boone, "that we shall not be treated severely.
Chief Owaneeyo gave us his promise when we surrendered that we should be
treated with kindness both on our journey and after we arrived at the
Indian village. I believe he spoke truly."
"What I am afraid of," said Peleg, "is that some of these braves will
not listen to him. I think Owaneeyo will live up to his promise as far
as he is able."
"There, Peleg, you are borrowing trouble again. What shall I do with
you?" said Boone gently. "For myself, I shall look for the better side,
and if the hard times come I shall bear them as I may be able, but I am
expecting that things will not be as bad as you fear, and I shall keep
myself ready if Providence reveals any opening for our release. I
believe firmly that such an opening will come and that we shall yet go
back to our friends."
"I hope so," said Peleg fervently.
"But whatever comes, Peleg, you must be cheerful, at least in your
appearance. If the Indians see that you are cast down or afraid, they
will immediately lose their respect for you, and no one can tell what
may happen."
In a measure the words of the scout proved to be true. The prisoners
were treated with kindness and were assigned to various members of the
tribe in such a manner that they seldom had an opportunity of
conversing with one another.
Mindful of the directions of the great scout, Peleg did his utmost to
maintain a cheerful manner. He was confident, too, as the days passed,
that however heavy his own heart might be the Shawnees were sure that he
was adapting himself to the life of their tribe and was not unhappy in
their midst.
A few days after the captives had been brought into the village,
Owaneeyo came to Boone one morning and said: "Big scout shoot. No shoot
brave, shoot----"
The word which he wished to use failed the young chief, but laughing
heartily he conducted the hunter to a place where Daniel Boone saw that
a target had been erected. He concluded that the plan of the Indian was
for him to enter into a contest with some of the best shots among the
Shawnees.
With apparent eagerness he accepted the invitation, and soon many of the
warriors were assembled, keenly watching the contest between Boone and
three of the braves.
Daniel Boone wisely was shooting well, but not too well. Two of his
competitors he easily outdid, but the third, who was Owaneeyo himself,
and no mean shot, he permitted to beat him. The glee of the Indian when
the match was ended was so marked and childish that Boone instantly
decided that if future contests of a similar character were held he knew
what his own course of action must be.
The following day a second contest was arranged, and at Boone's
suggestion Peleg also was summoned to share in it.
"Lad," whispered Boone, while he was apparently bending over his rifle
and looking to its priming, "I am sure if we are careful we shall soon
be permitted to have our own rifles. Perhaps you can get yours now for
the match, if you want it, but my advice to you in any event is to let
the Indians beat you, but not too easily."
The delight of the Indians was even greater than on the preceding day,
when Owaneeyo and one of his warriors succeeded in making a better
record than Peleg and were tied with the work which the scout did.
At frequent intervals throughout the autumn these contests were held. In
every event the white scouts were careful to shoot well, but not too
well. So manifest was the feeling of affection and confidence among the
Shawnees, especially for Daniel Boone, that it was not long before the
white men, one or two at a time, were permitted to accompany the Indians
whenever they went on the hunting path.
In this manner the winter passed and already there were promises of the
return of spring. March had come and the snows were beginning to
disappear from the depths of the forest. It was in this month that
Owaneeyo came to Daniel Boone one day, saying eagerly: "Broder go with
Shawnees."
"Go where?" inquired Boone. His anxiety for his family in their faraway
home by the Kentucky by this time had become almost unbearable. As they
were unaware of the fate which had befallen him and his companions, and
yet were fully aware of the cruelty of the Indians and the hatred which
they had manifested for the settlers at Boonesborough, the scout was
continually thinking of the anxiety which must possess his own family at
this time. Not a word had come to them concerning his safety or his
whereabouts, and there was no means by which such word might be sent. It
was therefore with a feeling of consternation which it was difficult for
him to conceal that he heard the statement of the young chief.
"Broder see where go," laughed the Indian, as if he was preserving some
great pleasure for his friend.
Aware that protests were vain, Boone, with apparent cordiality,
expressed his desire to accompany the Indians, although he was ignorant
of the destination of the proposed journey.
To his surprise, the following day when the party set forth from the
village, he found Peleg and nine other whites in the company.
There was no opportunity, however, for conversation among the captives,
who, in spite of the freedom which of late had been granted them by the
Shawnees, now were watched more carefully as the warriors sped through
the forest.
When the band at last arrived at Detroit, Boone was not surprised at the
destination. Here several days elapsed before Owaneeyo expressed his
purpose to return. Just why Boone had been compelled to accompany the
Indians the scout did not yet understand.
However, on the day before their departure, Governor Hamilton summoned
Owaneeyo and Daniel Boone to his quarters.
After a few preliminary words the Governor said to the Indian: "I will
give you L100 for the ransom of this man."
A scowl instantly appeared upon the face of the chief and he turned as
if about to depart from the presence of the Governor.
Wheeling abruptly about, however, his eyes shining and an expression
upon his face which showed how deep his feeling was, he said: "No sell
broder. He my broder." As he spoke, Owaneeyo looked steadily into the
eyes of the scout, and there was no question in the mind of Daniel
Boone as to the sincerity of the young chief's feelings.
"But he is a white man," protested the Governor.
"He my broder," declared Owaneeyo, as if no further explanation need be
made.
"Ask him if he would rather go with you or stay here."
"I would rather go," said Daniel Boone, "than have you pay so much gold
for my release. The Shawnees have been good to me, and though I am a
white man, my own friends and country could not deal more kindly with me
than have Owaneeyo and his tribe."
"No take gold," said Owaneeyo, and strode from the Governor's quarters
as he spoke.
Boone delayed a few minutes, explaining to the Governor that it would be
impossible for him to accept such a ransom, saying in his simple way: "I
am in the hands of a greater Governor than even you, Governor Hamilton,
and I am sure that the right in the end will be done."
Apparently the commander was not yet fully persuaded, for on the
following morning, before the Shawnees departed from Detroit, several of
the Englishmen at the post, deeply touched with sympathy for the scout
in his captivity, came to Boone himself with offerings of money for his
release. The sturdy scout smiled, however, and shook his head,
explaining that it would be impossible for him to accept such benefits
which would forever be beyond his power to return or repay.
"But you need never return the money to us. It may be our turn to be
prisoners of the Indians soon, and then some one will have to do for us
what we now are trying to do for you," protested one of the men.
"I cannot take your gifts," said the hunter shortly. It was manifest
that all efforts to induce him to change his decision would be
fruitless.
In a few hours the entire band of Shawnees and their captives set forth
on their return to Chillicothe. No reference was made by Owaneeyo to the
offer which had been made by the Governor and his friends, but it was
plain to Daniel Boone throughout their long march that the chief's
feeling of affection for him had been greatly strengthened by what had
occurred at Detroit.
However, when the party at last arrived at the Indian town, even Daniel
Boone was startled by the proposition which was made by one of the
Shawnee chiefs.