CONCLUSION
The light of the rising sun had appeared when the crouching Indians
together fired upon the silent little camp.
By some strange chance almost all the bullets took effect in the body of
the suffering schoolmaster. There was not even a cry from the stricken
man, and as the Indians sent forth a wild whoop every one in the camp
leaped to his feet and fled from the spot.
There had been no time for plans to be made, and consequently every man
fled by himself. They were followed by the shots and the cries of the
pursuing Indians, but no one knew what had befallen his comrade.
Peleg, who was fully dressed and better equipped than his friends for
flight, with Singing Susan in his hand, suddenly fell as he ran along
the border of a swamp which he had not noticed before.
The warriors swept past him, all believing that the young scout had been
shot, and that his scalp might be secured when they returned.
Waiting only until the howling band had passed him, Peleg made his
escape. He sped swiftly back in the direction of the camp, hoping to
secure one of the stolen horses. When he arrived, however, his
disappointment was keen when he found that not one of the horses was
still there.
Exerting himself to the utmost, and still gripping Singing Susan, Peleg
ran swiftly into the forest in the direction of the meeting-place which
Colonel Clark had selected.
Several hours elapsed before the young scout arrived at the rendezvous.
Before night fell three of his recent companions also appeared, but Sam
Oliver was not of their number, and in fact he was never heard of again.
Daniel Boone was now present, and when he and Peleg were together as
darkness fell over the camp Boone said: "I am more hopeful now that we
shall soon have peace than I have ever been before."
"Just now," suggested Peleg with a laugh, "I am thinking more of
something good to eat than I am of getting into the Indian villages."
"That suggests the one mistake which I fear has been made. In his
eagerness, the colonel has assembled his men before he has secured
supplies. The result is that almost every man is hungry to-night."
"I think I can endure it if the rest of the men do not complain," said
Peleg sturdily. "I have not been with you through all these years
without learning that I must not cry if everything I want does not come
to me just when I want it."
"That is well. I do not think we will remain here long. It may be that
we shall start within a few hours. All the men are eager to be gone, and
there is nothing to be gained by delay. Without sufficient supplies for
our horses as well as our men, the sooner we start the better it will be
for us all."
"Are all here who are expected?" inquired Peleg.
"There are about one thousand here now, including the regulars."
This conversation was interrupted by the announcement that they would
depart at once. There was a sufficient number of horses in the camp to
provide one for Peleg and for others who had come on foot.
Just previous to the start the great scout explained to Peleg, "We are
not far from one of the largest villages of the Indians. It may be that
we shall come to it before morning. That will depend upon the pace at
which our men advance."
The morning dawned, and still no sign of the first of the Indian
villages had been seen. Not a trace of a warrior had been discovered
throughout the night, nor had any been seen when several hours of the
new day had passed. Whether or not the Indians had been informed of the
approach of their enemies was not known.
Steadily the hungry men pressed forward, their conviction that the time
had arrived for them to obtain lasting relief from the attacks of the
treacherous Shawnees being even stronger than their feeling of hunger.
Peleg and the great scout were in the front lines, if indeed the
advancing body could be said to be moving with any appearance of order.
It is true the men kept closely together, but the nature of the ground
over which they were moving and the forests through which they passed
made any approach to military order well-nigh impossible.
The men near Peleg abruptly halted when not far before them on the
opposite shore of a large pond they spied a solitary Indian. The warrior
was standing as motionless as the nearby trees as he gazed steadily at
his approaching enemies.
Suddenly he turned and fled into the forest, disregarding the calls of
the men and even unmindful of the few scattered shots which followed
him.
"Who was that?" whispered Peleg to Daniel Boone.
"It was Henry."
"I believe it was," declared Peleg excitedly. "What will he do now?"
"He will give the alarm to the village. We are not more than a mile
from it now, and he will be there long before our horses can carry us
over such ground as we have had for the past few miles."
Just at that moment there was a sharp call for an advance. The entire
body at once responded, although the hungry horses were in no condition
for swift action.
The words of the great scout were fulfilled when the force drew near the
Indian village. Not one of its people was to be seen. Fires were still
smouldering and even the meat which was being roasted and the corn that
was boiling in the kettles had been abandoned in the precipitate flight
of the Indians.
The discovery of the food was perhaps more welcome to the hungry men
than would have been the sight of their foes. At all events, a halt was
made, and such food as could be obtained was speedily allotted.
At the right of the village a large field of corn was seen, and the
discovery that the corn was in the ear and ripe for food was good news
indeed. It was not long before the hunger of every man was appeased, in
a measure at least, and the entire force was ready for the further
commands of Colonel Clark.
The village was set on fire in several places, and flames were also
kindled in the field. In less than an hour the men departed, leaving
behind them only the smoking embers of what a short time before had
been a prosperous village of the red men.
Colonel Clark now urged his men forward with increasing speed. At times
the force divided and the task of burning certain villages was assigned
to the different bands. At other times the entire force proceeded as one
body. But their enemies still had not been seen. Occasionally a solitary
Indian would crawl within gunshot when the camp was pitched, discharge
his gun, and then instantly flee; and once a small party of warriors,
mounted upon superb horses, advanced boldly within gunshot. The red men
coolly surveyed the little army, but when a force was sent to attack
them they rode away so swiftly that pursuit was useless.
Village after village was burned to the ground, and rich fields of corn
were left in ruins. The pioneers were determined to rid themselves once
and for all of further possibilities of attacks by the ferocious
Shawnees.
The alarm over the advance of Colonel Clark had spread throughout the
entire region, and with one accord the red men had abandoned their homes
and fled into the wilderness beyond.
When the attacking forces at last disbanded and the men returned to
their homes, Daniel Boone and Peleg Barnes went back with their friends
into Kentucky. The warfare with the Indians was ended. The Kentucky
homes were now free from the attacks of the Shawnees or Cherokees.
Peleg was no longer a boy. The years that had passed during these
pioneer days had made of him a man. He now had his own home and a tract
of land adjoining that of his great friend, Daniel Boone.
Not a word was heard concerning Henry. There were occasional vague
reports of the presence of a white man among the Shawnees, but whether
or not this referred to "the white Shawnee" was never known.
As for Daniel Boone, it seemed as if the days of his peril were ended.
The region which he had opened up for the incoming people had now become
well settled. The sound of the axe was heard more frequently than the
rifle. Prosperity smiled upon the efforts of the sturdy settlers, and
the steadily advancing civilization and the spread of education wrought
wonders among the people.
In the diary of Daniel Boone there occurs the following:
"Two darling sons and a brother I have lost by savage hands which
have also taken from me 40 valuable horses and abundance of cattle.
Many dark and sleepless nights have I spent, separated from the
cheerful society of man, scorched by the summer's sun, and pinched
by the winter's cold, an instrument ordained to settle the
wilderness."
Another writer has left the following:
"He (Boone) has left behind him a name strongly written in the
annals of Kentucky, and a reputation for calm courage softened by
humanity, conducted by prudence, and embellished by a singular
modesty of deportment. His person was rough, robust, and indicating
strength rather than activity; his manner was cold, grave, and
taciturn; his countenance homely but kind; his conversation
unadorned, unobtrusive, and touching only upon the needful. He
never spoke of himself unless particularly questioned."
As the years passed he showed more and more the spirit which has been
described by one of his admirers in the following words:
"There never beat in man a kindlier or more philanthropic heart.
While he was a stranger to selfish and sordid impressions he was
alike above mean actions; and he lived and toiled for others, amid
hardships and sufferings that would have crushed thousands of
hearts."
The simple-hearted scout, shrewd in his dealing with the Indians, was
honest and straightforward with the men of his own race, and looked for
similar treatment from them. One can therefore imagine his surprise and
indignation when he was informed that he had no legal right to an acre
of the land which he had discovered, and into which he had led many
families that already were sharing in the steadily increasing
prosperity. The clearing he had made, the acres he had cultivated, he
was informed, were not his property now, but belonged to a man _who had
signed certain papers_!
Boone intensely loved Kentucky. Its rocks and trees, its rivers, its
forests, its very soil, were dear to his heart. In Kentucky he had
experienced his deepest sorrows and many of his highest joys. Perplexed
as well as disheartened, the great scout departed from the settlement
which in a large measure was his own work. He was homeless in a land in
which he had helped so many to secure homes for themselves.
Deep as was Boone's sorrow, he was, as we know, a man whose feeling did
not find expression in useless words. Quietly he returned to the banks
of the Delaware where he had been born, and then went on to Virginia. On
the borders of the great Kanawha he dwelt for five years in the woods
with his dogs and gun.
Meanwhile his son and a brother had gone out into the remote and almost
unknown land beyond the Mississippi River. Their reports and appeals
were so strong, that at last, when the great scout was sixty years of
age, once more accompanied by his faithful wife, he journeyed away from
civilization and went to join his sons in the faraway wilderness.
The name of the great scout was so well-known and his character was so
much admired that the Spanish Governor at once made him a present of
eighty-five hundred acres of land in what is now the State of Missouri.
Here the great scout in a measure renewed the experiences of his early
life. By working steadily and saving the money which he received from
his crops and his furs he acquired a considerable sum. He then returned
to Kentucky and looked up every man to whom he owed any money through
the loss that had come to him by his inability to retain his land in the
region he had loved. It was not long, however, before "he went back to
Missouri, his heart lighter and also his pocketbook."
When the scout was seventy-five years of age, he still was a great
hunter. Friendly with the Indians in the region, he paddled in his light
canoe over the creeks and the little streams in the new territory, and
it is said that even along the banks of the great Missouri River he set
many of his traps for the beaver.
As long as the Spanish and French were in control of the Missouri
country, Boone continued to hold his land safely; but when Napoleon sold
the vast territory to the United States Boone once more suffered a heavy
loss, for his own government refused to recognize his claim to any part
of the region. It seemed almost as if the closing days of the great
scout were to end in darkness.
Through his friends, Daniel Boone now appealed to the legislature of
Kentucky to see that justice was done him. Eager to recognize the
services of the man who had done so much for their state, the
legislature urged Congress to do justice to the white-haired old scout.
After some delay the petition was granted, and a gift of eight hundred
and fifty acres of land was voted Daniel Boone.
It was in December, 1813, when Daniel Boone received word of this gift,
but his relief and pleasure were lessened by the death of his wife.
Selecting a choice spot that overlooked the river for her grave, the old
scout said that when he, too, should die he wished to be buried by her
side.
Seven years later, when he was eighty-five years old, this last request
of Daniel Boone was granted.
Missouri, however, was not to be the final resting-place of the famous
old scout and his wife. A quarter of a century later the legislature of
Kentucky requested the children of Boone to permit the people of the
state for which he had done so much to bring the bodies of the great
scout and his wife to Frankfort, Kentucky.
To-day, on a beautiful site overlooking the banks of the Kentucky River,
looking down upon the city of Frankfort, a fitting monument marks the
place where all that is mortal of Daniel Boone lies resting.
THE END
[Illustration: Logo]
THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS GARDEN CITY, N. Y.
End of Project Gutenberg's Scouting with Daniel Boone, by Everett T. Tomlinson