Boone Rejoins his Family at the Clinch River Settlement—Leads a Company of Immigrants into Kentucky—Insecurity of Settlers—Dawn of the American Revolution—British Agents Incite the Indians to Revolt against the Settlements.

Daniel Boone showed his faith in the success of the enterprise, by announcing his intention of bringing his family into Kentucky to stay as long as they lived.

Accordingly he proceeded to the Clinch River settlement, where he gave more glowing accounts than ever of the beauties and attraction of the new country.

The result was inevitable. The stories of foreign lands never lose any of their brilliant coloring when they come from the mouth of one who has passed through the enchanting experiences of which he tells us.

What though he speaks of the deadly peril which lingers around the footsteps of the explorer, is it not one of the laws of this strange nature of ours that the attraction is thereby rendered the greater? is it not a sad fact that the forbidden pleasure is the one that tastes the sweeter?

Boone set his neighbors to talking, and by the time his family was ready to move to Kentucky, a number were fully as eager as he to go to the new country. The pioneer was chosen to lead them. They turned their backs forever upon North Carolina in the autumn of 1775, and facing westward, set out for their destination.

When they reached Powell's valley, several other families were awaiting them, and, thus re-enforced, the company numbered twenty-six men, four women, five boys and girls—quite a formidable force, when it is remembered they were under the leadership of Daniel Boone, to whom the trail had become so familiar during the preceding years.

This little calvacade wound its way through Cumberland Gap, all in high spirits, though sensible of the dangers which, it may be said, hovered about them from the very hour they left Clinch River.

Good fortune attended the venture, and for the first time of which we have record, the entire journey was made without the loss of any of their number at the hands of the Indians.

Never forgetting that the utmost vigilance was necessary to insure this exemption, if such insurance be considered possible, Boone permitted nothing like negligence, either when on the march or in camp.

But, in recalling those first expeditions to the West, one cannot help wondering at their success. Had the Indians shown a realizing sense of the strength in union, which they displayed at the battle of Point Pleasant, the Thames, and in the defeats of St. Clair, Crawford and others, they could have crushed out these attempts at settlement, and postponed the opening up of the country for many years. What more easy than to have concentrated several hundred of their warriors, and, waiting until the little companies of settlers had penetrated too far into their territory to withdraw, led them into ambush and annihilated every man, woman and child?

But they chose, when not engaged in their rare movements on a large scale, to fight in a desultory fashion, firing from behind the tree or from the covert, or watching for the unsuspecting settler to appear at the door of his cabin.

This manner of fighting made the feeling of uncertainty general, for no man could know when the peril threatened his wife and little ones, nor when the spiteful attack would be made by some small band of warriors, venturing from the main body and relying upon their own celerity of movement to escape before the settlers could rally in time to strike back.

This species of warfare, we say, was extremely perilous to the settlers and pioneers, but it could never become an effective check to the advancing hosts of civilization, which were beginning to converge from a dozen different directions upon the fair forests and fertile plains of Kentucky.

When Boone and his party reached the headwaters of Dick's River, a halt was made, and a division took place. Several of the families preferred to settle at Harrodsburg—the cabin of Harrod having been erected there the year previous. With mutual good wishes, therefore, they separated from the main company, and pushing resolutely forward, reached their destination in safety.

As a matter of course, there was but the one haven which loomed up invitingly before Daniel Boone,—that was the station named after himself, and which was now at no great distance away. He and the main body reached it without molestation, and they helped to swell the numbers that were already making Boonesborough the strongest post in the West.

It is one of the facts of which the pioneer was proud throughout his long, eventful life, that his wife and daughter were the first white women who ever "stood upon the banks of the wild and beautiful Kentucky."

But, as we have stated, settlers, speculators, surveyors, and adventurers were converging to the Dark and Bloody Ground, which was receiving an influx almost daily—the most of the new-comers being of a character desirable and useful to a new country.

The latter part of 1775 was specially noteworthy for the number of settlers who entered Kentucky. The majority of these made their rendezvous at Boonesborough, which soon became what might be called the headquarters of the pioneers. Many attached themselves to Boone's colony, others went to Harrodsburg, while some, having completed the survey of their lands, returned home.

It was during these stirring days that Boone received visits from Kenton, the McAfees and other men, who became so noted afterward as scouts and border rangers. Those were momentous times in the Colonies, for, as the reader will observe, our forefathers were on the very verge of the American Revolution. The country was trembling with excitement from one end to the other. In the spring of the year occurred the battle of Lexington, when was fired the shot that was "heard around the world," and the war opened between Great Britain and the Colonies. Men left the plow in the furrow, the shop and their homes, and hastened to arms, while Boone and his brother colonists were planting their homes hundreds of miles beyond the frontiers of the Carolinas. Many believed the treaties previously made with the Indians would protect them from molestation at their hands, but in this expectation the pioneers were wofully disappointed.

It was necessary for the mother country to put forth the most gigantic efforts to subdue her American colonies, or she would be confronted with rebellions among her colonial possessions all around the globe.

Despite the treaties with the aborigines, English emissaries were soon at work, inciting the Indians to revolt against the intruders upon their soil. There is good reason to believe that more than this was done, and Great Britain furnished the tribes with guns and ammunition, with which to give practical expression to their enmity toward the white settlers in Kentucky and Tennessee.

The American Indian, as a rule, does not require much persuasion to begin the work of rapine and massacre, as we have found from dealing with him ourselves. When they have received their supplies from our Government agents, and have had their usual "palaver" with the peace agents, they are fully prepared to enter upon the war-path.

The student of Western history will recognize the date named as the beginning of the most troublous times on the Kentucky frontier. The settlers had planted themselves on the soil with the purpose of remaining, and they were prepared to defend their homes against all comers. But the most resolute bravery and consummate woodcraft cannot give absolute protection from such a foe as the original American.

The sturdy settler who plunged into the woods, with his glittering axe in hand, was not secure against the shot from behind the tree which bordered his path, and the plowman who slowly guided his team to the opposite end of the clearing, could have no guarantee that one of the painted warriors had not been crouching there for hours, waiting with his serpent-like eyes fixed upon him, until he should reach the spot in order to send a bullet through his heart; the mother, busy with her household duties, was not sure that the leaden messenger would not be aimed, with unerring skill, the moment she showed herself at the door, nor could she be assured that when her little ones ventured from her sight, they would not be caught up and spirited away, or that the tomahawk would not be sent crashing into their brain.

The sounds of what seemed the hooting of owls in the dead of night were the signals which the Indians were exchanging as they crept like panthers from different directions upon the doomed cabin; the faint caw of crows, apparently from the tops of the trees, were the signals of the vengeful warriors, as they approached the house which they had fixed upon as the one that should be burned and its inmates massacred.

There was the fort known as Harrod's Old Cabin and Boonesborough, while other rude structures were reared in the clearings with the intention of being used as a protection against the red-men. These served their good purpose, and many a time saved the settlers from the peril which stole upon them like the insidious advance of the pestilence that smites at noonday,—but they could give no security to the lonely cabins with the stretches of forest between and the faint trail connecting them with the fort.

When the Shawanoes and Miamis came, it was like the whirlwind, and many a time they delivered their frightful blows, withdrew, and were miles away in the recesses of the woods, where pursuit was impossible, before the garrison at the station could answer the call for help.

But, as we have said, these frightful atrocities and dangers could not turn back the tide of emigration that was pouring westward. The trail which Boone had marked from Holston to Boonesborough was distinct enough for the passage of pack-horses, and the long files which plodded over the perilous path always had their heads turned to the westward. The flat-boats that swung slowly with the current down the Ohio were pierced with bullets from the shores, and, in some instances, nearly all the occupants were picked off by the Indian marksmen; but had it been in the power of these cumbrous craft to turn back, they would not have done so.

The American pioneer is daunted by no danger, baffled by no difficulty, and discouraged by no adversity. The time had come for opening up the western wilds, and nothing but the hand of Providence himself could stop or delay the work.