—The first men to break through the mountain barriers to face the British and the Indians.

While the government of the United States was thus shaping its policy toward the Indian tribes, a new empire was building on the western waters, that was to wield a more powerful influence in the development of the western country, than all other forces combined. That empire was Kentucky.

The waters of the Ohio "moving majestically along, noiseless as the foot of time, and as resistless," sweep from the junction of the Monongahela and Allegheny to the waters of the Mississippi, a distance of nine hundred miles, enclosing in their upper courses the island of Blannerhassett, below the mouth of the Little Kanawha, the island of Zane, near Wheeling, and leaping in a descent of twenty-two feet in a distance of two miles the Falls opposite the present city of Louisville. The lofty eminences which crowned its banks, the giant forests of oak and maple which everywhere approached its waters, the vines of the frost-grape that wound their sinuous arms around the topmost branches of its tallest trees, presented a spectacle that filled the soul of the traveler with awe and wonder at every graceful turn of the river. In the spring a wonderful transformation took place in the brown woods. There suddenly appeared on every hand the opening flowers of the red-bud, whose whole top appeared as one mass of red blossoms, interspersed with the white and pale-yellow blossoms of the dog-wood, or cornus florida. Thus there extended "in every direction, at the same time, red, white and yellow flowers; at a distance each tree resembling in aspect so many large bunches of flowers every where dispersed in the woods." This was the Belle Riviere, or the beautiful river of the French, which they long and valiantly sought to hold against the advancing tides of English traders and land hunters. This was that glorious gate to the west, through which floated the rafts and keel-boats of the American settlers who took possession of the great northwest.

But notwithstanding the beauty and grandeur of this stream, there was not, at the close of the French and Indian War, on the tenth of February, 1763, a single habitation of either white man or savage on either the Ohio-Indiana side, or on the Kentucky side of this river. Says General William Henry Harrison: "The beautiful Ohio rolled its 'amber tide' until it paid its tribute to the Father of Waters, through an unbroken solitude. Its banks were without a town or village, or even a single cottage, the curling smoke of whose chimney would give the promise of comfort and refreshment to a weary traveler."

The reason for this solitude is apparent. To the south of the Ohio lay the "Dark and Bloody Ground" of Kentucky; "Dark," because of its vast and almost impenetrable forests; "Bloody," because of the constant savage warfare waged within its limits by roving bands of Miamis, Shawnees, Cherokees, and other tribes who resorted thither in pursuit of game. Says Humphrey Marshall, the early historian of Kentucky: "The proud face of creation here presented itself, without the disguise of art. No wood had been felled; no field cleared; no human habitation raised; even the redman of the forest, had not put up his wigwam of poles and bark for habitation. But that mysterious Being, whose productive power, we call Nature, ever bountiful, and ever great, had not spread out this replete and luxurious pasture, without stocking it with numerous flocks and herds; nor were their ferocious attendants, who prey upon them, wanting, to fill up the circle of created beings. Here was seen the timid deer; the towering elk; the fleet stag; the surly bear; the crafty fox; the ravenous wolf; the devouring panther; the insidious wildcat; the haughty buffalo, besides innumerable other creatures, winged, four-footed, or creeping."

This was the common hunting ground of the wild men of the forest. None took exclusive possession, because none dared. The Ohio was the common highway of the Indian tribes, and while their war paths crossed it at frequent intervals, none were so bold as to attempt exclusive dominion over it.

As was once said in the senate of the United States, "You might as well inhibit the fish from swimming down the western rivers to the sea, as to prohibit the people from settling on the new lands." While the great revolution was opening, that should wrest our independence from Great Britain, the stream of "long rifles" and hunting shirt men of Virginia and Pennsylvania, who followed the valleys of the Allegheny and the Blue Ridge from north to south, suddenly broke through the western mountain barriers and flowed in diminutive rivulets into the basins of the Tennessee, the Ohio and the Cumberland; afterwards forming, as Theodore Roosevelt most strikingly says, "a shield of sinewy men thrust in between the people of the seaboard and the red warriors of the wilderness." In 1774, James Harrod built the first log cabin in Kentucky. On the 14th of June, 1775, the first fort of the white man was erected at Boonesborough.

The situation of the first pioneers of Kentucky was indeed precarious. "They were posted," says Mann Butler, "in the heart of the most favorite hunting ground of numerous and hostile tribes of Indians, on the north and on the south; a ground endeared to these tribes by its profusion of the finest game, subsisting on the luxuriant vegetation of this great natural park. * * * * It was emphatically the Eden of the red man." On the waters of the Wabash, the Miamis and the Scioto, dwelt powerful confederacies of savages who regarded their intrusion as a menace and a threat. Behind these savages stood the minions of Great Britain, urging war on non-combatants and offering bounties for scalps. It was three or four hundred miles to the nearest fort at Pittsburgh, and a wilderness of forest and mountain fully six hundred miles in extent, separated them from the capital of Virginia.But it is to the everlasting glory of these men that they knew no fear, and valiantly held their ground. Standing as they were, on the very outskirts of civilization, they looked on the perils of the wilderness with unquailing eye, and with stout hearts and brawny arms they carried forward the standards of the republic. The thin line of skirmishers thus thrown far out beyond the western ranges, was all that stood between the grasping power of Great Britain, and the realization of her desire for absolute dominion over the western country. The ambitious projects of her rebel children must be defeated, and they must be driven back beyond the great watershed which they had crossed. The western waters were to be preserved for the red allies of England, who supplied her merchants with furs and peltries. The great "game preserve," as Roosevelt called it, must not be invaded. Years before, a royal governor of Georgia had written: "This matter, my Lords, of granting large bodies of land in the back part of any of his majesty's northern colonies, appears to me in a very serious and alarming light; and I humbly conceive, may be attended with the greatest and worst of consequences; for, my Lords, if a vast territory be granted to any set of gentlemen, who really mean to people it, and actually do so, it must draw and carry out a great number of people from Great Britain, and I apprehend they will soon become a kind of separate and independent people, who will set up for themselves; that they will soon have manufactures of their own; and in process of time they will become formidable enough to oppose his majesty's authority." This, "kind of separate and independent people," had now in fact and in reality appeared, and were evincing a most decided inclination to "set up for themselves" on the king's domain.

The task of faithfully portraying the heroic valour of this handful of men who defended their stockades and cabins, their wives and children, against British hate and savage inroad, is better left to those who have received the account from actual survivors. In 1777, the entire army of Kentucky amounted to one hundred and two men; there were twenty-two at Boonesborough, sixty-five at Harrodsburgh, and fifteen at St. Asaphs, or Logan's fort. Around these frontier stations skulked the Shawnees, hiding behind stumps of trees and in the weeds and cornfields. They waylaid the men and boys working in the fields, beset every pathway, watched every watering place, and shot down the cattle. "In the night," says Humphrey Marshall, "they will place themselves near the fort gate, ready to sacrifice the first person who shall appear in the morning; in the day, if there be any cover, such as grass, a bush, a large clod of earth, or a stone as big as a bushel, they will avail themselves of it, to approach the fort, by slipping forward on their bellies, within gun-shot, and then, whosoever appears first, gets the fire, while the assailant makes his retreat behind the smoke from the gun. At other times they approach the walls, or palisades, with the utmost audacity, and attempt to fire them, or beat down the gate. They often make feints, to draw out the garrison, on one side of the fort, and if practicable, enter it by surprise on the other. And when their stock of provisions is exhausted, this being an individual affair, they supply themselves by hunting; and again, frequently return to the siege, if by any means they hope to get a scalp." In this same year of 1777, St. Asaphs, or Logan's fort, was besieged by the savages from the twentieth of May until the month of September. "The Indians made their attack upon Logan's fort with more than their usual secrecy. While the women, guarded by a part of the men, were milking the cows outside of the fort, they were suddenly fired upon by a large body of Indians, till then concealed in the thick cane which stood about the cabin. By this fire, one man was killed and two others wounded, one mortally; the residue, with the women, got into the fort. When, having reached the protection of its walls, one of the wounded men was discovered, left alive on the ground. Captain Logan, distressed for his situation, and keenly alive to the anguish of his family, who could see him from the fort, weltering in his blood, exposed every instant to be scalped by the savages, endeavored in vain for some time to raise a party for his rescue. The garrison was, however, so small, and the danger so appalling, that he met only objection and refusal; until John Martin, stimulated by his captain, proceeded with him to the front gate. At this instant, Harrison, the wounded man, appeared to raise himself on his hands and knees, as if able to help himself, and Martin withdrew, deterred by the obvious hazard; Logan, incapable of abandoning a man under his command, was only nerved to newer and more vigorous exertions to relieve the wounded man, who, by that time, exhausted by his previous efforts, after crawling a few paces, had fallen to the ground; the generous and gallant captain took him in his arms, amidst a shower of bullets, many of which struck the palisades about his head, and brought him into the fort to his despairing family."

Let another tale be related of this same Benjamin Logan and this same siege. "Another danger now assailed this little garrison. 'There was but little powder or ball in the fort; nor any prospect of supply from the neighboring stations, could it even have been sent for, without the most imminent danger.' The enemy continued before the fort; there was no ammunition nearer than the settlements at Holston, distant about two hundred miles; and the garrison must surrender to horrors worse than death, unless a supply of this indispensable article could be obtained. Nor was it an easy task to pass through so wily an enemy or the danger and difficulty much lessened, when even beyond the besiegers; owing to the obscure and mountainous way, it was necessary to pass, through a foe scattered in almost every direction. But Captain Logan was not a man to falter where duty called, because encompassed with danger. With two companions he left the fort in the night and with the sagacity of a hunter, and the hardihood of a soldier, avoided the trodden way of Cumberland Gap, which was most likely to be waylaid by the Indians, and explored his passage over the Cumberland Mountain, where no man had ever traveled before, through brush and cane, over rocks and precipices, sufficient to have daunted the most hardy and fearless. In less than ten days from his departure, Captain Logan, having obtained the desired supply, and leaving it with directions to his men, how to conduct their march, arrived alone and safe at his 'diminutive station,' which had been almost reduced to despair. The escort with the ammunition, observing the directions given it, arrived in safety, and the garrison once more felt itself able to defend the fort and master its own fortune." The siege was at last raised, but on the body of one of the detachment were found the proclamations of the British governor of Canada, offering protection to those who should embrace the cause of the king, but threatening vengeance on all who refused their allegiance. Thus it was brought home to the struggling pioneers of Kentucky, that the British and the Indians were in league against them.

Men like Daniel Boone, James Harrod and Benjamin Logan, fighting, bleeding, hunting game for the beleaguered garrisons, were the precursors of George Rogers Clark. Clark possessed prescience. He knew the British had determined on the extermination of the Kentucky settlements, because these settlements thwarted the British plan of preserving the west as a red man's wilderness. He had been in the fights at Harrodstown, in 1777, and doubtless knew that the British partisans at Detroit were paying money for scalps. Knowing that all the irruptions of savages into Kentucky were encouraged and set on foot from Kaskaskia, Vincennes and Detroit, he suddenly resolved upon the bold project of capturing these strongholds. This would put the British upon the defensive, relieve the frontiers of Kentucky, Virginia and Pennsylvania, and in the end add a vast territory to the domain of the republic. In the accomplishment of all these designs the soil of Kentucky was to be used as a base of operations.

It is not the purpose of this work to give a history of the Clark campaigns, nor of the daring stratagems of that great leader in effecting his purposes. Kaskaskia, Cahokia, and Vincennes, each in turn fell into his hands, and when Henry Hamilton, the British lieutenant-governor at Detroit, received the astounding news that the French on the Mississippi and the Wabash had sworn allegiance to the Americans, he abandoned his enterprise of capturing Fort Pitt and at once entered upon a campaign to retrieve the lost possessions and "sweep" the Kentuckians out of the country. His scheme was formidable. With a thousand men, and with artillery to demolish the stockades and destroy the frontier posts, he proposed to drive the settlers back across the mountains. "Undoubtedly," says Roosevelt, "he would have carried out his plan, and have destroyed all the settlements west of the Alleghenies, had he been allowed to wait until the mild weather brought him his host of Indian allies and his reinforcements of regulars and militia from Detroit." How Clark with his Virginians and Kentuckians, and a few French allies from the western posts, anticipated his attack, swam the drowned lands of the Wabash, and surprised him at Vincennes, has been well told. Instead of "sweeping" Kentucky, the "hair-buyer" general was taken a prisoner to the dungeons of Virginia, and the newborn possessions were erected into the county of Illinois.

For a number of years following the revolution, there were those in the east, and especially in New England, who suffered from myopia. They utterly failed to see the future of the republic, or the importance of holding the western country. To them, such men as Harrod and Kenton, Logan and Boone, were "lawless borderers" and willful aggressors on the rights of the red man. And yet, back of the crowning diplomacy of John Jay, that placed our western frontiers on the banks of the Mississippi, and extended our northern lines to the thread of the lakes, lay the stern resolution of the men of Kentucky and the supreme audacity of the mind of Clark.

To recount the endless horrors endured by the people south of the Ohio during the remaining days of the revolution, and for long years afterwards, would be impossible. Parties of savages, accompanied ofttimes by French-Canadians from Detroit, scoured the country, stealing horses, driving away the cattle, attacking solitary cabins, waylaying the unwary, and often carrying women and children away into captivity. "Many fell victims to the Indians," says Mann Butler, "many were burned and tortured, with every refinement of diabolical vengeance; others were harrowed with the recollection of their children's brains dashed out against the trees; the dying shrieks of their dearest friends and connexions." In 1781, the raids were appalling. "One of the official British reports to Lord George Germaine, made in October 23rd of this year, deals with the Indian war parties employed against the northwestern frontier. "Many smaller Indian parties have been very successful. * * * * It would be endless and difficult to enumerate to your lordship the parties that are continually employed upon the back settlements. From the Illinois country to the frontiers of New York there is a continual succession * * * the perpetual terror and losses of the inhabitants will I hope operate powerfully in our favor." In 1783, twenty-three widows were in attendance at the court at Logan's station to take out letters of administration upon the estates of their husbands who had been killed in the Indian wars of the day. "Since my first visit to this district," says Judge Harry Innes, writing from Danville, Kentucky, on the 7th of July, 1790, "which was the time above named (1783), I can venture to say, that above fifteen hundred souls have been killed and taken in this district, and emigrating to it; that upwards of twenty thousand horses have been taken and carried off and other property, such as money, merchandise, household goods and wearing apparel, have been carried off and destroyed by these barbarians, to at least fifteen thousand pounds."

From this crucible of fire and blood a great people emerged, hardy, brave, chivalrous, quick to respond to the cries and sufferings of others, but with an iron hate of all things Indian and British stamped eternally in their hearts. Others might be craven, but they were not. Every savage incursion was answered by a counterstroke. The last red man had not retreated across the Ohio, before the mounted riflemen of Kentucky, leaving old men and boys behind to supply the settlements, and with a little corn meal and jerked venison for their provision, sallied forth to take their vengeance and demolish the Indian towns. Federal commanders, secretaries of war, even Presidents might remonstrate, but all in vain. They had come forth into the wilderness to form their homes and clear the land, and make way for civilization, and they would not go back. In every family there was the story of a midnight massacre, or of a wife or child struck down by the tomahawk, or of a loving father burned at the stake. To plead with men whose souls had been seared by outrage and horror was unavailing. All savages appeared the same to them. They shot without discrimination, and shot to kill. They marched with Clark, they rode with Harmar, and they fought with Wayne and Harrison. In the war of 1812, more than seven thousand Kentuckians took the field. It was, as Butler has aptly termed it, "a state in arms." You may call them "barbarians," "rude frontiersmen," or what you will, but it took men such as these to advance the outposts of the nation and to conquer the west. Strongly, irresistibly, is the soul of the patriot moved by the story of their deeds.

With all its bloody toil and suffering, Kentucky grew. After the spring of 1779, when Clark had captured Vincennes, the danger of extermination was over. Following the revolution a strong and ever increasing stream of boats passed down the Ohio. The rich lands, the luxuriant pastures, the bounteous harvests of corn and wheat, were great attractions. Josiah Harmar, writing from the mouth of the Muskingum in May, 1787, reports one hundred and seventy-seven boats, two thousand six hundred and eighty-nine men, women and children, one thousand three hundred and thirty-three horses, seven hundred and sixty-six cattle, and one hundred and two wagons, as passing that point, bound for Limestone and the rapids at Louisville. On the ninth of December of the same year, he reports one hundred and forty-six boats, three thousand one hundred and ninety-six souls, one thousand three hundred and eighty-one horses, one hundred and sixty-five wagons, one hundred and seventy-one cattle, and two hundred and forty-five sheep as on the way to Kentucky, between the first of June and the date of his communication. In 1790, the first census of the United States showed a population of seventy-three thousand six hundred and seventy-seven. On June 1st, 1792, Kentucky became the fifteenth commonwealth in the federal union; the first of the great states west of the Alleghenies that were to add so much wealth, resource and vital strength to the government of the United States.