The Life and Times of Col. Daniel Boone, Hunter, Soldier, and Pioneer

Daniel Boone, at that juncture, was alone, hunting in the woods, when he came face to face with the two hundred warriors, who appeared as suddenly as if cast up by the earth.

Without stopping to parley, Boone whirled about and started on a dead run, darting in and out among the trees, doing his utmost to dodge the bullets that he expected would be sent after him, and to place himself beyond sight of the Indians, who were desirous of securing so renowned a man as he.

But Boone was not so young as when he had his former desperate encounters with the red men, and the dozen warriors who instantly sped after him were among the fleetest of their tribe.

The pioneer made good progress, but as he glanced furtively over his shoulder every few seconds, he saw that the savages were gaining rapidly upon him, and his capture was certain. He held out as long as there was the slightest hope, but soon abruptly halted and surrendered.

There is something singular in the consideration which the Indians showed Boone on more than one occasion. It will be remembered that when he and Stuart were captured, they were kept day after day, until they gained a chance to escape; and, in the present instance, the captors conducted him back to the main body, where he was still held a prisoner, no harm being offered him.

This was at a time when the fury of the savages was stirred to the highest point against the settlers, and when the treacherous bullet, the crashing tomahawk, the deadly knife and the smoke of the burning cabin were more typical of the manner of warfare, than were any of the amenities of civilized, contending forces.

It may have been the Indians recognized the importance of the capture they had made in the person of the great Daniel Boone, for they treated him kindly and conducted him back to the Blue Licks, where the rest of the settlers were encamped.

There, upon the solemn promise of the Indians to spare their lives and give them good treatment, Boone surrendered the entire command to them.

Boone was court-martialed for this act, and, whether he deserved credit for it or not, is hard to determine. Such a daring officer as General Clark never would have surrendered under such circumstances, and thirty frontiersmen of to-day would give a good account of themselves against an aboriginal force of ten times their number.

On the other hand, the partisans of the pioneer plead that he saw that it was unquestionably the best thing to be done, inasmuch as the majority of the Indians would turn back with their prisoners, and thus Boonesborough would be saved from an attack, which, in its weakened condition, it would scarcely be able to resist.

It will be seen that this is not a conclusive argument by any means, for if the war party had appeared before the stockades with the thirty prisoners and threatened to put them to the torture, before the eyes of their families, they could have secured any terms they chose. On the other hand, the two hundred savages could have exterminated the little band in the woods as utterly as did Sitting Bull and his warriors the forces of General Custer nearly a hundred years later. It may be set down, therefore, that the court-martial which acquitted Boone, voiced the sober second thought of his friends in this much disputed matter.

There is reason to believe that the Indians felt a genuine admiration for the pioneer, for they kept in spirit and letter the agreement they made respecting the treatment of himself and comrades. The capture of so large a force, including the leader himself, was an achievement on the part of the Indians calling for great self-congratulation, as they started with their captives for old Chillicothe, on the Miami.

Old Chillicothe was the principal town of the Shawanoes who had taken Boone, and as it was in the depth of winter, the march through the wilderness occupying three days was very severe. On this journey the Indians treated the whites well, sharing their food with them, and only showing by their unremitting vigilance that they regarded them in the light of prisoners.

They were kept at the Shawanoe village several weeks, and then the pioneer and ten of his men were conducted to Detroit (which at that time was a British garrison), and, with the exception of Boone, were presented to the commandant, who showed them much consideration.

The commandant was desirous of securing Boone, and requested the Indians to bring him in, but they refused. A number of prominent gentlemen in Detroit, who knew of the pioneer, joined with the officer in offering a large reward for Boone, with the purpose of exchange, or of sending him back to his family at Boonesborough.

The Shawanoes were deaf to the proffers, and, to end the annoyance, started for their villages on the Miami, taking the leader with them.

The truth was, the red-men had formed a feeling of strong friendship for their famous prisoner, and were determined to adopt him. It was with such an intention that they left Detroit and made their way through the woods to their own towns, occupying more than two weeks in the journey.

Reaching their destination at last, Boone was formally adopted into the Shawanoe tribe. Respecting this novel ceremony, Peck, the biographer of Boone, says:

"The forms of the ceremony of adoption were often severe and ludicrous. The hair of the head is plucked out by a painful and tedious operation, leaving a tuft some three or four inches in diameter on the crown for the scalp-lock, which is cut and dressed up with ribbons and feathers. The candidate is then taken into the river in a state of nudity, and there thoroughly washed and rubbed, 'to take all his white blood out.' This ablution is usually performed by females. He is then taken to the council-house, where the chief makes a speech, in which he expatiates upon the distinguished honors conferred on him. His head and face are painted in the most approved and fashionable style, and the ceremony is concluded with a grand feast and smoking."

Boone had now been changed from a white to a red man; that is, in the eyes of the red-men themselves, and his native shrewdness and cunning told him that his true course was so to conduct himself as to give the Shawanoes the impression that he shared their opinion with them.

Having received the ceremony of adoption, and well aware of the strong friendship the members of the tribe felt for him, he knew he was in no personal danger, so long as he chose to remain one of them.

But nothing could be further from his intentions than that of spending any considerable time with the Shawanoes, but he was well aware that but one opportunity of escape would be offered him; should he fail, no second chance would present itself. It will therefore be seen that no precaution was to be neglected that promised to add to the prospect of success.

He could not but feel anxious concerning his wife and children, and he was uneasy over the situation of Boonesborough; so much so, that he resolved to seize the first opportunity of leaving, and to press his efforts with such vigor that he could scarcely fail.

He adopted his old custom of pretending to be satisfied with his condition, and of holding no thought of running away. Although little else was left for him to do, it was not to be expected that it would deceive the Indians or lead them to relax their vigilance to any perceptible extent. They must have known it was the very stratagem he had adopted successfully a few years before with their people, besides being the one which would naturally occur to a prisoner.

In the month of June, 1778, a company of Shawanoes went to the Sciota Licks to make salt, taking Boone with them. He thought the chance promised to be a good one for getting away, and he was on the alert.

But the Indians were equally so, and they kept him so busy over the kettles that he dared not make the attempt. Finally, having secured all they wished of salt, they started homeward again, and reaching old Chillicothe, Boone's heart was filled with consternation at the sight of 450 warriors in their paint, fully armed and ready to march upon Boonesborough.

This was a formidable force indeed, more than double that against which the garrison had ever been forced to defend themselves, and it seemed to the pioneer as if the settlement, his family and all his friends were doomed to destruction.

It was now or never with Boone: if his escape was to prove of any benefit to others than himself, it would not do to delay it any longer. The settlers were unaware of their danger and unless duly warned, were likely to fall victims to Shawanoe cunning and atrocity.

Boone determined to leave within the succeeding twenty-four hours, no matter how desperate the chance, and once beyond sight of his captors, he would push forward night and day until he could reach Boonesborough.

But eager as he was to go, no opportunity presented itself that day or evening. His active brain continued busily at work, and, before he closed his eyes in snatches of fitful slumber, he had decided on the course to pursue.

He rose early the next morning, and started out for a short hunt, as he had frequently done, for such a stratagem promised to give him more chance of getting a good start of his pursuers, it being naturally supposed that the hour of a hunter's return is one of the most uncertain occurrences in this world.

The pioneer was one hundred and sixty miles from Boonesborough, but he was scarcely out of sight of the Indians, when he headed straight for the settlement, and ran like a man who realizes it is a case of life and death. It was a long distance to tramp, where the need was so urgent, but the fugitive was spurred on by the strongest of all incentives.

He did not spare himself. He had concealed enough for one meal about his person before starting, and this was all he ate while making the long journey occupying five days. He did not dare to stop long enough to shoot any game, for fear his pursuers would be upon him. He took many precautions to conceal his trail, but was fearful that the piercing eyes of the Shawanoes would not be deceived. He was apprehensive, too, that if he should fire his gun, the report would bring his vengeful captors upon him.

Climbing some elevation, he looked searchingly back over the route traveled, for sight of the smoke of the tell-tale camp-fire, or that of the moving figures close on his trail.

But he saw none, and at the close of the fifth day, tired, hungry, and worn, he made his appearance in front of the Boonesborough stockade and was admitted with amazement and delight by his friends, who believed he had been killed long before. So general, indeed, was this belief in his death that his wife and family had moved back to their home in North Carolina some time previous.

Just as he had feared, he found the station in the very condition to fall a prey to the Indians. Its immunity from attack for months previous had induced carelessness and indifference, and had the immense war party of Shawanoes appeared at the same time with the pioneer, the fort could not have held out an hour before a vigorous attack.

But Boone's presence inspired courage, and the garrison and settlers set to work instantly. Everything was done to put the station in the best possible state for defence. There was not an hour to lose, for it was supposed the savages would be directly upon the heels of the pioneer, and a constant and vigilant lookout was maintained.

But the hours passed, and no Indians appeared: in fact, the escape of Boone proved the salvation of the settlement named after him, in a manner altogether unsuspected.

Shortly after the flight of the pioneer, another of his friends succeeded in getting away, and he came into the station with the gratifying news that the march against Boonesborough had been postponed for three weeks on account of the flight of Boone, whose purpose was divined at once by the Indians.

This postponement was a most providential thing, not only for Boonesborough itself, but for all the stations along the frontier, for it gave them time in which to make every preparation for the attacks which were foreshadowed by the Indian spies that were encountered in every direction.

Finally Boone determined to make an offensive movement, with a view of striking something like fear into the hearts of the Indians who were meditating these attacks, and exciting a corresponding degree of confidence among his friends.

On a bright morning early in August, with nineteen picked men, he left the station and started for one of the Indian towns on the Sciota, intending to effect its capture before anything like an effective resistance could be made.

To accomplish such a work in an Indian country, requires the utmost secrecy and celerity of movement. No time, therefore, was lost on the road, when once the start was made, and, threading their way rapidly through the forest, they advanced straight toward the Indian town, and were within a few miles, when, to their astonishment, they encountered thirty of its warriors who were hurrying to join the main body that at that moment was marching against Boonesborough.

The instant the forces caught sight of each other, a regular bushwhacking fire began, lasting only a few minutes, when the Indians broke and fled, having one brave killed and two wounded. None of the whites were hurt, and they captured several horses and such property as the Indians could not take away with them.

Two of the swiftest runners were instantly sent to the Indian town, and they came back with news that it was evacuated. The flank movement, therefore, of the settlers had accomplished nothing.

Only one thing remained to be done: the Indians were moving upon Boonesborough, but there was a possibility of Boone and his men getting there ahead of them. They turned about and the race began.

On the sixth day, Boone found himself at the same distance from Boonesborough as was the main body; by the exercise of great care, he and his men avoided observation and got ahead of them, reaching the station on the seventh day, while the formidable enemy made their appearance before the town on the eighth day.

The war party was a large one, indeed, and looked irresistible. It had the British banners flying, and was commanded by Captain Duquesne, with eleven other Canadian Frenchmen and a number of the most prominent Indian chiefs, while the woods seemed to be literally alive with warriors. Many a settler, as he looked out upon the scene, felt that resistance to such a force was useless and the end of Boonesborough was close at hand.

Captain Duquesne, with great confidence in his ability to capture the place, sent in a demand to Captain Boone to surrender it at once in the name of his Britannic Majesty. Boone, in reply, asked to be allowed two days in which to consider the summons, and Duquesne granted the request.

Boone at once summoned his friends to council, and found, when they were gathered, that there were only fifty; but, after a full interchange of views, they decided to defend the station to the last man. The investing force numbered at the least calculation fully ten times as many as they, and a prolonged resistance would be sure to excite them to the highest degree of fury; but the resolution was unanimous, and there was no faltering on the part of the intrepid commander or any of his comrades.