About 1784, horse-stealing was as common as hunting to the whites and
Indians of the west. Thefts and reprisals were almost constantly made.
Some southern Indians having stolen horses from Lincoln county, Kentucky,
three young men, named Caffree, M'Clure, and Davis, set out in pursuit of
them. Coming in sight of an Indian town, near the Tennessee river, they
met three red men. The two parties made signs of peace, shook hands, and
agreed to travel together. Both were suspicious, however, and at length,
from various indications, the whites became satisfied of the treacherous
intentions of the Indians, and resolved to anticipate then. Caffree being
a very powerful man, proposed that he himself should seize one Indian,
while Davis and M'Clure should shoot the other two. Caffree sprang boldly
upon the nearest Indian, grasped his throat firmly, hurled him to the
ground, and drawing a cord from his pocket attempted to tie him. At the
same instant, Davis and M'Clure attempted to perform their respective
parts. M'Clure killed his man, but Davis's gun missed fire. All three, _i.
e._ the two white men, and the Indian at whom Davis had flashed,
immediately took trees, and prepared for a skirmish, while Caffree
remained upon the ground with the captured Indian--both exposed to the
fire of the others. In a few seconds, the savage at whom Davis had
flashed, shot Caffree as he lay upon the ground and gave him a mortal
wound--and was instantly shot in turn by M'Clure who had reloaded his gun.
Caffree becoming very weak, called upon Davis to come and assist him in
tying the Indian, and directly afterwards expired. As Davis was running up
to the assistance of his friend--the Indian released himself, killed his
captor, sprung to his feet, and seizing Caffree's rifle, presented it
menacingly at Davis, whose gun was not in order for service, and who ran
off into the forest, closely pursued by the Indian. M'Clure hastily
reloaded his gun and taking the rifle which Davis had dropped, followed
them for some distance into the forest, making all signals which had been
concerted between them in case of separation. All, however, was vain--he
saw nothing more of Davis, nor could he ever afterwards learn his fate. As
he never returned to Kentucky, however, he probably perished.
[Illustration: A SOUTHERN INDIAN.]
M'Clure, finding himself alone in the enemy's country, and surrounded by
dead bodies, thought it prudent to abandon the object of the expedition
and return to Kentucky. He accordingly retraced his steps, still bearing
Davis' rifle in addition to his own. He had scarcely marched a mile,
before he saw advancing from the opposite direction, an Indian warrior,
riding a horse with a bell around its neck, and accompanied by a boy on
foot. Dropping one of the rifles, which might have created suspicion,
M'Clure advanced with an air of confidence, extending his hand and making
other signs of peace. The opposite party appeared frankly to receive his
overtures, and dismounting, seated himself upon a log, and drawing out his
pipe, gave a few puffs himself, and then handed it to M'Clure. In a few
minutes another bell was heard, at the distance of half a mile, and a
second party of Indians appeared upon horseback. The Indian with M'Clure
now coolly informed him by signs that when the horseman arrived, he
(M'Clure) was to be bound and carried off as a prisoner with his feet tied
under the horse's belly. In order to explain it more fully, the Indian got
astride of the log, and locked his legs together underneath it. M'Clure,
internally thanking the fellow for his excess of candor, determined to
disappoint him, and while his enemy was busily engaged in riding the log,
and mimicking the actions of a prisoner, he very quietly blew his brains
out, and ran off into the woods. The Indian boy instantly mounted the
belled horse, and rode off in an opposite direction. M'Clure was fiercely
pursued by several small Indian dogs, that frequently ran between his legs
and threw him down. After falling five or six times, his eyes became full
of dust and he was totally blind. Despairing of escape, he doggedly lay
upon his face, expecting every instant to feel the edge of the tomahawk.
To his astonishment, however, no enemy appeared, and even the Indian dogs
after tugging at him for a few minutes, and completely stripping him of
his breeches, left him to continue his journey unmolested. Finding every
thing quiet, in a few moments he arose, and taking up his gun continued
his march to Kentucky.
[Illustration: CAFFREE KILLED BY THE INDIAN.]