The Party of Exploration--Daniel Boone the Leader--More than a Month
on the Journey--On the Border of Kentucky--An Enchanting View--A
Site for the Camp--Unsurpassed Hunting--An Impressive Solitude--No
Signs of Indians.
Daniel Boone now entered upon that epoch in his life, which has
interwoven his name with the history of Kentucky, and indeed with
the settlement of the West, for though he was not venturing into the
wilderness with the intention of remaining there, yet his purpose
of "spying out the land" was simply the first step in his career of
pioneer of the Dark and Bloody Ground.
The party of exploration, or rather of hunting, numbered a half dozen:
John Finley, James Moncey, John Stuart, William Cool, Joseph Holden,
and Daniel Boone, who was chosen the leader. It was a strong company,
for all the men were experienced hunters, unerring rifle-shots, and
well aware of the dangers they were to encounter.
On the first of May, 1769, the party set out for Kentucky in high
spirits, and eagerly anticipating the enjoyment that was to be theirs,
before they should return from the all-important expedition.
They had selected the most enchanting season of the year, and it is
easy to imagine with what glowing anticipation they ventured upon the
journey, which was to be more eventful, indeed, than any member of it
imagined.
It was a long distance from North Carolina, across the intervening
stretch of stream, forest and mountain, to Kentucky, with all the
temptations to the hunter to turn aside, temptations which it is safe
to conclude overcame them many a time, for, when a full month had
passed, not one of the party had stepped within the confines of the
Dark and Bloody Ground.
But, though they were moving slowly, they were steadily nearing the
promised land, and on the 7th of June the men, bronzed and toughened
by the exposure to which they had been subjected, but still sturdy and
resolute, began climbing the precipitous slope of a mountain on the
border of Kentucky.
The six who had left North Carolina more than a month before were
there, attired in their rough hunting costume, and with their ambition
and purpose as strong as ever. Each wore the hunting-shirt of the
forest ranger made of dressed deerskins. The leggins were of the same
material, and the feet were protected by strong, comfortably fitting
moccasins. There were fringes down the seams of the leggins, just as
seems to be the favorite custom with many of the red-men in donning
their picturesque costumes.
Although these dresses might be attractive to the eye, yet such a
purpose was the last that entered the minds of the wearers, who
constructed them for use only. Their under garments were of cotton, so
coarse that it would have been like sackcloth to many a man of modern
days; they carried, as a matter of course, the powder-horn, rifle,
hatchet, bullet-pouch, and the other indispensables of a hunter.
It was near the close of the day, and though the party were pretty well
exhausted, yet they pushed on, feeling in many respects like those who,
for the first time in their lives, are to gaze upon the land which is
more enchanting to them than all the world beside.
Ere the sun sank behind the immense expanse of wilderness, and just
when its splendors were illuminating the skies with the glories of the
fading day, the hunting party reached the summit of the mountain, and
gazed off over Kentucky.
The panorama spread out before them was a most entrancing one, their
vision extending over hundreds of square miles, with the rich vales
watered by the beautiful streams, the forest alternating with broad
natural clearings, with vast stretches of level country upon which the
myriads of moving specks were recognized by the experienced eye as
bisons, and over which they knew the deer dashed and other wild animals
roamed with scarcely a fear of their natural enemy, man. There was many
a league in whose solemn depths a human foot had never yet penetrated,
and whose echoes had never been awakened by the shot of the rifle.
There they lay as silent as at "creation's morn," and the denizens of
the woods waxed strong and wandered at will, without fear of the deadly
bullet whistling from behind the tree or mossy rock.
True, among these cool woods and within many of the dark recesses
the red Indian ventured, and now and then the sharp whiz of his arrow
was heard, and the barbed weapon flashed among the green leaves as it
pierced the heart of the unsuspecting natives of the wood.
But where there were such multitudes of wild beasts these deaths
were scarcely noticeable, and the white hunters knew that it was a
sportsman's paradise that lay spread at their feet.
The picture of these six pioneers who paused on the crest of the
mountain as the sun was setting, and looked off over the Kentucky
wilderness, is that which has been selected by the artist, who has
immortalized the scene on canvas, and all will agree that he could not
have chosen a more inviting subject.
The surface upon which they looked down was rolling, level far beyond,
but quite hilly nearer the base of the mountain, while it all possessed
the indescribable charm of variety, and it could not have been more
enchanting to the wearied spectators.
Finley had been there before, and, though they may have thought that
some of the stories he told were overdrawn, they could well afford to
believe them now, when they came to gaze upon the attractive country.
Aye, they stood on the very borders of the land, and they determined
that they would venture within it on the morrow. Although they had
left home at the most delightful season of the year, yet the spring
proved to be a severe one, and their journey had been delayed by stormy
weather, so that the glowing panorama at their feet was robed in more
roseate colors from its very contrast to that through which they had
passed so recently.
Assuming positions of rest, the group feasted their eyes to the full,
and we can well imagine the expressions of delight which escaped them,
as they constantly caught sight of new and novel scenes and pointed
them out to each other.
There lay the region in which they would probably make their future
home, whither they would bring their families, and where they would
encounter the toil, privation and danger, which invariably attend the
pioneers of every country.
Under such circumstances, the time, place and surroundings were
invested with a peculiar interest, which could not have been theirs at
any other period or under any different conditions.
The sun went down behind the wilderness, and night gradually overspread
the scene. The hunters had not caught sight of a single human being
beside themselves, and now that darkness had come, they made their
preparations to encamp for the night.
They were veterans at this business, as they showed by avoiding such a
conspicuous position as they then occupied. The flash of a camp-fire
on the mountain-top would have been seen for many miles over the
wilderness, and though they had discovered nothing of the red-men, yet
it was reasonable to suppose that many of them would look out from the
dark recesses at the unwonted spectacle and would suspect the true
cause.
And so, from a prudent habit they had formed, they moved down to a
neighboring ravine, where they camped for the night.
The spot was favorable in every respect, the gorge being so deep, and
surrounded by such a dense thicket, that the glimmer of the camp-fire
was not likely to be seen by any one, unless he ventured close enough
to hear the murmur of the voices of the hunters as they gathered
together for their evening meal.
Near them lay a tree that had been uprooted by some recent storm, and
which offered the advantages the hunters could not fail to appreciate
at sight. The huge trunk was used for the rear wall of the camp, as
it may be termed, while logs and brush were gathered and piled on two
sides, leaving the front open, where the fire was kindled against
another log. Thus they were secured against any chill during the cold
night, while no wild animal was likely to venture across the magic ring
of fire, in case he was attracted to the spot.
It was decided not only to make this their resting-place for the night,
but their headquarters during their visit to Kentucky.
Accordingly, their camp was strengthened, as may be said, a roof being
made more substantial than ornamental, but sufficient to keep out the
rain, and the front was narrowed in, so that no matter how sudden or
violent the changes of weather, they were well protected against them.
Their greatest safeguard, however, lay in their own hardy constitutions
and rugged health, which they had acquired from their active out-door
life long before venturing into this wild region.
This visit to Kentucky was extended all through the summer and autumn
until the dead of winter, during which time they made the camp in the
gorge their headquarters.
They had many a glorious hunt, as may well be supposed, and it would be
unsafe to estimate the numbers of bisons, deer, wild turkeys, bear and
other species of game that fell victims to the unerring marksmen. It
is unnecessary to say that they lived like princes, and grew stronger,
sturdier, and more hopeful. Although separated from their families to
which they were tenderly attached, there was an indescribable charm
about this wild out-door life that rendered the social annoyances to
which they were subjected at home all the more distasteful.
They felt that if a band of worthy colonists could be gathered, and a
venture made into Kentucky, the future was sure to be all they could
wish.
Beyond question, this preliminary visit to Kentucky settled the future
not only of Boone himself, but of others who were associated with him.
It seems an extraordinary statement to make, and yet it is a fact that,
during that entire summer and autumn and a goodly portion of the winter
which they spent there, they never once saw an Indian--the very enemy
which it was to be supposed they would alone dread, and who would be
the most certain to molest them.
When it is remembered that the Indians had made so much trouble on the
Carolina frontiers, this is all the more remarkable, until we recollect
that Kentucky at that day, and for years after, was regarded by the
red-men as a sort of neutral hunting ground, no particular tribe laying
claim to it. But it was territory into which each possessed an equal
right to venture and wage deadly hand-to-hand encounters--while all
united with an undying enmity to drive back any white man who presumed
to step foot upon the Dark and Bloody Ground. It must have been, too,
that the Indians scattered through the region were not expecting any
visitors.
Kentucky at that time belonged to the colony of Virginia. The
Shawanoes, Cherokees, and Chickasaws frequently ventured into the
region to hunt, but the Iroquois had ceded all their claim to the
grounds to Great Britain at Fort Stanwix, in 1768, so that it will be
understood that Boone and his companions were not venturing into Indian
territory at all, though it is not to be supposed that any estray
red-men whom they might encounter in their hunts would be likely to
regard the exact status of the matter.
The hunters preferred not to encounter them at all, but were cautious
in their movements, and "put their trust in God and kept their powder
dry."
Accordingly, as we have stated, they prosecuted their hunting through
the sultry summer months, alternating with storm and sunshine, and
enjoying themselves to the fullest bent of which such spirits are
capable.
Autumn came, cool and invigorating, and winter with its biting winds
and piercing cold followed, making the primitive cabin in the mountain
gorge a most inviting spot in which to spend their leisure hours. They
smoked their pipes after the evening meal, and held friendly converse
as the hours wore on, when they stretched out and slept through the
solemn stillness, broken now and then by the mournful cry of some wild
animal, until morning again dawned.
Many of the excursions which they made had led them far into the
interior, and, as may be supposed, they kept their eyes and ears open.
They had not only failed to meet an Indian, but failed to catch sight
of a wigwam, or the smoke of a camp-fire other than their own; so
that, as we have repeated, they were justified, if any one could have
been, in believing that the last peril to which they were likely to be
exposed, was that from red-men.
And yet it was precisely that danger which was impending over them, and
which descended when it was least expected.