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

In closing the biography of Colonel Daniel Boone, we feel that the reader of these pages, shares with us in our admiration of the stern integrity, the unquestioned bravery, the clear self-possession, and the honest simplicity of the most illustrious type of the American pioneer, who, long before his death, had fixed his place high and enduring in the history of our country.

Toward the close of the latter part of the century, Colonel Boone dictated his autobiography to a friend, and nothing can be more appropriate as an illustration of his character than these few closing words, with which we lay down our pen:

"My footsteps have often been marked with blood; two darling sons and a brother have I lost by savage hands, which have also taken from me forty valuable horses and cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have I been a companion for owls, separated from the cheerful society of men, scorched by the summer's sun, and pinched by the winter's cold – an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness.

"What thanks, what ardent and ceaseless thanks are due to that all-superintending Providence which has turned a cruel war into peace, brought order out of confusion, made the fierce savages placid, and turned away their hostile weapons from our country.

"May the same almighty goodness banish the accursed monster, war, from all lands, with her hated associates, rapine and insatiable ambition!

"Let peace, descending from her native heaven, bid her olives spring amid the joyful nations; and plenty, in league with commerce, scatter blessings from her copious hand!"

GENERAL SIMON KENTON

CHAPTER I

Birth of Kenton – Desperate Affray with a Rival – Flees to the Kentucky Wilderness – He and Two Companions attacked by Indians – One is Killed and the Survivors Escape – Rescued, after great Suffering – Kenton spends the Summer alone in the Woods – Serves as a Scout in the Dunmore War – Kenton and Two Friends settle at Upper Blue Lick – Joined by Hendricks, who meets with a Terrible Fate

The fame of Simon Kenton, hunter and pioneer, is scarcely second to that of Daniel Boone; he was fully as courageous and equally skilled in woodcraft, while personally more winning in manner. Had the opportunities of Boone been his, he would have achieved a fame scarcely less; but such as he was, no history of the West would be complete without mention of Boone's intimate friend, Simon Kenton.

Of the early years of Kenton little is known, and it is not likely that they were marked by anything worthy of mention. He was born in Fauquier County, Virginia, May 15th, 1755. His parents were very poor, and Simon led a life of drudging toil on a farm, until he was sixteen, at which age he was unable to read or write his name.

The young man, however, was strong, robust, very athletic, good looking, and with a pleasing, musical voice. He was just the kind of youth to become popular among the rough spirits of the border, and it was at that time that an incident occurred which marked an era in his life.

Young as Kenton was, he was a rival of another in the esteem of an attractive young lady of the neighborhood; and, as the lady herself seemed unwilling to decide as to who was her preference, Kenton and his rival agreed to decide it by a bout at fisticuffs.

The conflict took place, but, through the treachery of his rival, Kenton was terribly beaten. He had no choice but to submit to the outrage in silence, but, like Dr. Winship, the modern Samson, he determined to get strong, and then punish the one who had treated him so foully.

Within the year or two succeeding, Kenton reached the stature of six feet, and, confident of his own strength and skill, he called upon his former rival and asked him to try conclusions again with him. The other was also a powerful man and gladly accepted the challenge, for he hated Kenton intensely, and resolved to give him such a terrific punishment that he would never be able to annoy him again.

At first, the rival got the best of Kenton and injured him severely; but the future scout was full of grit, and he managed to secure the upper hand, when he administered such a chastisement that when he released his man he seemed to be gasping in death.

Kenton looked at him for a moment, and was so certain he could not live a half hour longer, that he was seized with a panic and fled. He did not dare even to return home for a change of clothing, but faced toward the West and ran as though his pursuers were in sight.

Feeling no doubt that his rival was dead, he was sure his avengers would be at his heels, and he scarcely rested during the day. When, however, he reached the neighborhood of the Warm Springs, the settlements were so sparse that he drew a sigh of relief, and felt that he was in no immediate peril from the officers of the law.

Still Kenton did not dare pause for any length of time, and he was walking forward when he came upon a Jerseyman named Johnson, who was journeying in the same direction.

It is at such times that the heart craves companionship, and the two men affiliated at once. Johnson was driving a pack-horse before him, and seemed pretty well tired out; but he was full of pluck, and it took but a few minutes for the two adventurers fully to understand each other.

As a proof of the fear which Kenton felt that his pursuers might overtake him, it may be stated at this point that he changed his name to Simon Butler, with a view of rendering it more difficult to identify him.

The new friends penetrated the wilderness of the Alleghanies, relying under heaven upon their own prowess and bravery. Both were skillful marksmen, and they had no difficulty in securing all the game they needed, while they kept unceasing watchfulness against the prowling Indians, who, at that day, were liable to spring upon them at any time.

They pushed steadily forward until they reached a small settlement at the forks of the Monongahela; there they separated, and, so far as known, never saw each other again.

At the settlement was a small company under the leadership of John Mahon and Jacob Greathouse, who had just made ready to explore the country below them. Embarking in a large canoe, they floated down the river until they reached the Province's settlement. Here Kenton formed the acquaintance of two young men, named Yager and Strader, the former of whom had once been a captive among the Indians.

He fired the heart of Kenton by his glowing accounts of the region of Kentucky, which he declared was a hunter's paradise.

"There is no richer soil in the world," said Yager; "vegetation is so luxuriant that it will strike you with wonder, and the herds of buffalo and elk which roam through those woods are so immense that you wouldn't believe me if I were to tell you the numbers."

Kenton was sure there was some foundation for the positive assertions of Yager, and he listened eagerly to what he had to add;

"The region has no white men in it; any one who chooses to hunt there can do so. I have gone with the Indians many a time on their hunting excursions, and I could lead you through the same. If you will go with us, I will do so."

Kenton accepted the proposition with great enthusiasm, declaring that he would start at once.

Yager and Strader were equally hopeful, and in a short time the three were drifting down the Ohio in a single canoe.

Yager had lived among the Indians in his childhood, and while he entertained a vivid recollection of the incidents, he could not be positive concerning the distances between certain points. He was unable to say how far down the river they would have to go to find the place where the Indians crossed from Ohio into Kentucky to hunt, but he was sure he would recognize the spot the instant he saw it, for it was very different from any other point on the stream, and was indelibly fixed in his memory.

They were so anxious to reach the promised land, as it seemed to be to them, that the men rowed strongly and continuously, keeping at the oars far into the night.

There can be no question as to Yager's honesty, but he was led astray by his own impressions; the crossing he was seeking was a great deal further away than he believed.

Kenton and Strader began to think they were a long time in arriving at a point so near at hand. When they expressed their dissatisfaction, Yager still insisted, and the lusty arms were plied again with renewed vigor.

But, though the keen eyes scrutinized the shore on either hand with a watchfulness which could not be mistaken, they failed to discover anything resembling the crossing, which Yager had described so often and so vividly that the others saw it distinctly in their mind's eye.

Kenton and Strader were not angered, but they rallied their companion on his error, and suggested that he was describing and they were searching for a place which never had an existence, unless it was in the imagination of the former Indian captive.

Finally, Yager admitted that he didn't understand how it was, unless they had passed the crossing in the night.

"There is such a place," he asserted with great positiveness, "for I saw it more than once, when I was a child with the Indians, and I remember it so well, that I would recognize it on the instant. It must be that we went by it in the night."

After awhile, they agreed to return and explore the country more thoroughly. They did so, visiting the land in the neighborhood of Salt Lick, Little and Big Sandy, and Guyandotte. They finally wearied of hunting for that which it seemed impossible to find, and, locating on the Great Kanawha, devoted themselves to hunting and trapping. They found the occupation so congenial, that they pursued it for two years, exchanging their furs and peltries with the traders at Fort Pitt, for such necessaries as hunters require.

The period passed by these three men on the Kanawha will be recognized by the reader as a momentous one; for not only were the fires of the Revolution kindling, but the embers of war along the border were fanning into a blaze that was to sweep over thousands of square miles of settlement and wilderness, and to bring appalling disaster to the West.

Nothing gives a more vivid idea of the insecurity of the pioneers of Kentucky and Ohio, than the bloodhound-like persistency with which the red men hunted down all invaders of their soil. Boone and his party, which might have been considered strong enough to take care of themselves against any ordinary war party, were attacked before they caught more than a glimpse of the fair land; while the settler, who builded his cabin close to the frowning block-house, was shot down on his own threshold.

Kenton and his two companions had spent months enjoying their free, open life in the woods, when the red men came down upon them like the whirlwind.

It was in the month of March, 1773, while they were stretched out in their rude tent, chatting and smoking, that the dark woods around them suddenly flamed with fire, and a volley was poured in upon them, followed by the fierce shouts of the warriors, who seemed to swarm up from the very earth.

Poor Strader was riddled with bullets, and scarcely stirred, so instant was his death. By wonderful good fortune, neither of the others was injured, and, leaping to their feet, they bounded into the woods like frightened deer, the bullets whistling all about them and their ferocious enemies at their heels.

The gathering darkness and their own fleetness enabled them speedily to place themselves beyond reach of the savages; but their plight was a pitiable one.

So desperate was their haste, that neither had time to catch up blanket, gun or a scrap of provisions; an instant's pause would have been fatal. And now they found themselves in the gloomy woods, with the chilling wind cutting them to the bone, and without the means even of starting a fire.

The brave fellows, however, did not despair. They felt that while there was life there was hope, and they determined to make for the Ohio without delay. Had they possessed their guns, it would have been an easy matter to secure such game as they needed, and to kindle a fire, but with undaunted hearts and with their knowledge of woodcraft which enabled them to determine the direction to the Ohio, they started for the river.

During the first two days, they allayed the pangs of gnawing hunger by chewing succulent roots, while the bark on the trees was a sufficient guide to keep them going in the right direction. The miserable nourishment, however, soon told, and the third day found them much weaker, though with their courage undiminished.

They grew feeble very fast, and both were seized with a violent nausea, caused by the unwelcome substances they had taken into their stomachs to satisfy the pangs of hunger. Their condition became so much worse on the fourth day, that, strong men as they were, they felt it was useless to strive longer. They threw themselves on the ground with the intention of waiting for death, but when they assumed the prone position, they seemed to rally both in body and spirits, and, after awhile, they would rise and press forward again.

On the fifth day, death appeared near to them, and they were scarcely able to crawl. They staggered and crept along for about a mile, and, just as the sun was setting, found themselves on the bank of the Ohio, which was a Beautiful River indeed to them.