The Brilliant Victory of Mad Anthony Wayne brings Peace to the Frontier—Boone Loses his Farm—He Removes to Missouri—Made Commandant of the Femme Osage District—Audubon's Account of a Night with Colonel Boone—Hunting in his Old Age—He Loses the Land granted him by the Spanish Government—Petitions Congress for a Confirmation of his Original Claims—The Petition Disregarded.

While the stirring events recorded in the preceding chapter were taking place, Daniel Boone, like every one else, was advancing in years, and the prime of his life was passed before a lasting peace was gained by the American settlers on the frontier.

Disaster followed disaster, until Congress at last did the thing which it ought to have done long before. "Mad Anthony" Wayne, the hero of Stony Point and a dozen Revolutionary battlefields, was appointed to assume the military management of affairs in the West.

This appointment was made in April, 1792, when he became Major-General and Commander-in-Chief, and he led an expedition against the defiant combination of tribes, encountering them in August, 1794, when he utterly defeated and overthrew them. He compelled the treaty of Greenville, which ended all danger from any combination of the aborigines—nothing of the kind developing itself, until the great Tecumseh roused his race against the Americans in the war of 1812.

Boone now applied himself with great industry to the cultivation of his farm near Boonesborough. He soon made it one of the finest and most valuable pieces of land in the country; but, like many a man in his position, he fell a victim to the rapacious speculator, who took advantage of the intricacies and elasticity of the law.

Boone felt such a dislike of legal forms, and in fact of everything that pertained to them, that he failed to secure the title of his land locations. Before he suspected his danger, he found himself deprived of all his possessions, the right to which he never dreamed would be questioned.

The great pioneer had reached that period in life when it would be supposed that he was too feeble to begin over again, but, although the misfortune was a great blow to him, he did not lose courage. He removed to Point Pleasant, on the Kanawha River, in Virginia, where he stayed several years, tilling the ground with his usual industry, and indulging also in his favorite pastime of hunting.

One day, when he returned from hunting, he received a call from a number of friends who had been on a tour across the Missouri. They gave such fervid accounts of the richness of the soil and the abundance of game, that the heart of the old pioneer was fired again as it was forty years before. He determined to emigrate to Missouri with the purpose of spending the remainder of his days there. Accordingly, with his household goods and family, he turned his back forever upon the land of his early sufferings and triumphs. This removal was probably made in 1797, though the precise date is unknown.

At the time named, Spain owned the country, then called Upper Louisiana, and the fame of the renowned pioneer had extended to that comparatively remote region. The Lieutenant-Governor, residing at St. Louis, promised him ample portions of land, and Boone took up his residence in the Femme-Osage settlement, some 50 miles west of St. Louis. Don Charles D. Delassus, the Lieutenant-Governor, presented Boone with a commission, in 1800, as Commandant of the Femme-Osage District—an office which included both civil and military duties.

Boone accepted the office, and discharged the duties connected with it with great credit, up to the time when the territory was purchased by the United States in 1804. Boone lived with his son, Daniel M., until the date named, when he changed his residence to that of his son Nathan, with whom he tarried six years, when he became a member of the family of his son-in-law, Flanders Callaway.

It was at this period that the great naturalist Audubon spent a night with Boone, the account of which is so interesting, that we venture to give it the reader:

"Daniel Boone, or as he was usually called in the Western country, Colonel Boone, happened to spend a night with me under the same roof, more than twenty years ago. We had returned from a shooting excursion, in the course of which his extraordinary skill in the management of the rifle had been fully displayed. On retiring to the room appropriated to that remarkable individual and myself, I felt anxious to know more of his exploits and adventures than I did, and accordingly took the liberty of proposing numerous questions to him. The stature and general appearance of this Wanderer of the Western forests approached the gigantic. His chest was broad and prominent; his muscular powers displayed themselves in every limb; his countenance gave indication of his great courage, enterprise, and perseverance; and when he spoke, the very motion of his lips brought the impression that whatever he uttered could not be otherwise than strictly true. I undressed, whilst he merely took off his hunting-shirt, and arranged a few folds of blankets on the floor, choosing rather to lie there, as he observed, than on the softest bed. When we had both disposed of ourselves, each after his own fashion, he related to me the following account of his powers of memory, which I lay before you, kind reader, in his own words, hoping that the simplicity of the style may prove interesting to you:

"'I was once,' said he, 'on a hunting expedition on the banks of the Green River, when the lower parts of this State (Kentucky) were still in the hands of nature, and none but the sons of the soil were looked upon as its lawful proprietors. We Virginians had for some time been waging a war of intrusion upon them, and I, amongst the rest, rambled through the woods in pursuit of their race, as I now would follow the tracks of any ravenous animal. The Indians outwitted me one dark night, and I was unexpectedly as suddenly made a prisoner by them. The trick had been managed with great skill, for no sooner had I extinguished the fire of my camp, and laid me down to rest in full security, as I thought, than I felt myself seized by an indistinguishable number of hands, and was immediately pinioned, as if about to be led to the scaffold for execution. To have attempted to be refractory would have proved useless and dangerous to my life; and I suffered myself to be removed from my camp to theirs, a few miles distant, without uttering even a word of complaint. You are aware, I dare say, that to act in this manner was the best policy, as you understand that by so doing I proved to the Indians at once that I was born and bred as fearless of death as any of themselves.

"'When we reached the camp, great rejoicings were exhibited. Two squaws and a few pappooses appeared particularly delighted at the sight of me, and I was assured by very unequivocal gestures and words, that, on the morrow, the mortal enemy of the Redskins would cease to live. I never opened my lips, but was busy contriving some scheme which might enable me to give the rascals the slip before dawn. The women immediately fell a searching my hunting-shirt for whatever they might think valuable, and, fortunately for me, soon found my flask filled with Monongahela (that is, reader, strong whisky). A terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at the anticipation of their intoxication. The crew immediately began to beat their bellies and sing, as they passed the bottle from mouth to mouth. How often did I wish the flask ten times its size, and filled with aqua fortis! I observed that the squaws drank more freely than the warriors, and again my spirits were about to be depressed, when the report of a gun was heard in the distance. The singing and drinking were both brought to a stand, and I saw, with inexpressible joy, the men walk off to some distance and talk to the squaws. I knew they were consulting about me, and I foresaw that in a few moments the warriors would go to discover the cause of the gun having been fired so near their camp. I expected the squaws would be left to guard me. Well, sir, it was just so. They returned; the men took up their guns and walked away. The squaws sat down again, and in less than five minutes had my bottle up to their dirty mouths, gurgling down their throats the remains of the whisky.

"'With what pleasure did I see them becoming more and more drunk, until the liquor took such hold of them that it was quite impossible for these women to be of any service. They tumbled down, rolled about, and began to snore; when I, having no other chance of freeing myself from the cords that fastened me, rolled over and over towards the fire, and, after a short time, burned them asunder. I rose on my feet, stretched my stiffened sinews, snatched up my rifle, and, for once in my life, spared that of Indians. I now recollect how desirous I once or twice felt to lay open the skulls of the wretches with my tomahawk; but, when I again thought upon killing beings unprepared and unable to defend themselves, it looked like murder without need, and I gave up the idea.

"'But, sir, I felt determined to mark the spot, and, walking to a thrifty ash sapling, I cut out of it three large chips, and ran off. I soon reached the river, soon crossed it, and threw myself deep into the canebrakes, imitating the tracks of an Indian with my feet, so that no chance might be left for those from whom I had escaped to overtake me.

"'It is now nearly twenty years since this happened, and more than five since I left the whites' settlements, which I might probably never have visited again had I not been called on as a witness in a lawsuit that was pending in Kentucky, and which I really believe would never have been settled, had I not come forward and established the beginning of a certain boundary line. This is the story, sir:

"'Mr. —— moved from old Virginia into Kentucky, and having a large tract granted him in the new State, laid claim to a certain parcel of land adjoining Green River, and, as chance would have it, took for one of his corners the very ash-tree on which I had made my mark, and finished his survey of some thousands of acres, beginning, as it is expressed in the deed, 'at an ash marked by three distinct notches of the tomahawk of a white man.'

"'The tree had grown much, and the bark had covered the marks; but, somehow or other, Mr. —— heard from some one all that I have already said to you, and thinking that I might remember the spot alluded to in the deed, but which was no longer discoverable, wrote for me to come and try at least to find the place of the tree. His letter mentioned that all of my expenses should be paid, and, not caring much about once more going back to Kentucky, I started and met Mr. ——. After some conversation, the affair with the Indians came to my recollection. I considered for a while, and began to think that after all, I could find the very spot, as well as the tree, if it was yet standing.

"'Mr. —— and I mounted our horses, and off we went to the Green River bottoms. After some difficulties—for you must be aware, sir, that great changes have taken place in those woods—I found at last the spot where I had crossed the river, and, waiting for the moon to rise, made for the course in which I thought the ash-tree grew. On approaching the place, I felt as if the Indians were there still, and as if I were still a prisoner among them. Mr. —— and I camped near what I conceived the spot, and waited until the return of day.

"'At the rising of the sun, I was on foot, and after a good deal of musing, thought that an ash-tree then in sight must be the very one on which I had made my mark. I felt as if there could be no doubt of it, and mentioned my thought to Mr. ——. 'Well, Colonel Boone,' said he, 'if you think so, I hope it may prove true, but we must have some witnesses; do you stay hereabout, and I will go and bring some of the settlers whom I know.' I agreed. Mr. —— trotted off, and I, to pass the time, rambled about to see whether a deer was still living in the land. But ah! sir, what a wonderful difference thirty years make in a country! Why, at the time I was caught by the Indians, you would not have walked out in any direction for more than a mile without shooting a buck or a bear. There were then thousands of buffaloes on the hills of Kentucky; the land looked as if it never would become poor; and to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. But when I was left to myself on the banks of Green River, I dare say for the last time in my life, a few signs only of deer were to be seen, and, as to a deer itself, I saw none.

"'Mr. —— returned, accompanied by three gentlemen. They looked upon me as if I had been Washington himself, and walked to the ash-tree, which I now called my own, as if in quest of a long-lost treasure. I took an axe from one of them, and cut a few chips off the bark. Still no signs were to be seen. So I cut again until I thought it was time to be cautious, and I scraped and worked away with my butcher-knife until I did come to where my tomahawk had left an impression in the wood. We now went regularly to work, and scraped at the tree with care until three hacks, as plain as any three notches ever were, could be seen. Mr. —— and the other gentlemen were astonished, and I must allow I was as much surprised as pleased myself. I made affidavit of this remarkable occurrence in presence of these gentlemen. Mr. —— gained the cause. I left Green River forever, and came to where we now are; and, sir, I wish you a good night.'"

Spain seemed glad to do honor to the great pioneer, Daniel Boone, who was so well known at that time, that no less a poet than Lord Byron rendered tribute to his daring and achievements. Spain gave him a tract of land, numbering 8,500 acres, which was meant as a recognition of his services to the government. The law as it then existed, required, in order to make his title good, that the grant should be confirmed by the representative of the crown at New Orleans, and another condition was that the grantee should reside upon it himself.

As it would have been inconvenient on the part of Boone to comply with the latter provision, the commandant at St Louis, who was his warm friend, assured him that his title could be perfected without acceding to the requirement.

Boone's dear experience in Kentucky should have been remembered, but he left everything to his friends, and when Louisiana came into the possession of the United States, it was found that Boone had not the shadow of a legal title to the lands presented him, and the commissioners had no choice, according to their instructions, but to reject his claim entirely.

This was a serious blow, but the only one who could be censured was Boone himself. However, there was no fear of his coming to want, for he not only had a large number of immediate relatives, all of whom were strongly attached to him, but the States of Kentucky and Missouri would never permit any such disgrace.

Boone liked Missouri, for the people were kind and hospitable and game was plenty. He could never lose his fondness for the woods, and as the beaver were numerous and their furs valuable, he made considerable money by gathering and selling the peltries.

At the end of several years he had amassed enough funds to carry out an intention which does him great credit. When he removed from Kentucky he was obliged to leave several debts behind him, the memory of which disturbed him not a little. He now made a journey to the State, where he paid every creditor in full, and returned to Missouri with just half a dollar in his pocket.

"Now I am ready to die," said he; "I have paid all my debts, and when I am gone, no one shall be able to say I was a dishonest man."

It would scarcely be expected that in his old age, and in the new country to which he had emigrated, he would be subjected to danger from the Indians, and yet he was placed in peril more than once.

His principal companion on his hunting excursions was a black boy about half grown. While thus engaged they were attacked by a small party of Osage Indians, who, however, were not long in learning that the old fire still burned brightly, for they were speedily scattered without having inflicted any injury upon either of the hunters.

On another occasion, while Boone was hunting entirely alone, he discovered that a large encampment of Indians was in the neighborhood, and he had reason to believe that a number of the warriors were hunting for him.

Boone, it will be remembered, was quite an old man, and it must have recalled the scenes of nearly forty years before, when he alternately hunted and hid in the Kentucky wilderness, before the foot of any other white man had penetrated the solitudes.

For nearly three weeks the pioneer lived that life over again, hiding in the deepest recesses of the forest, carefully concealing his trail and cooking his food only at the dead of night, so that the smoke should not be seen by the Indians, who finally took their departure, without being able to catch a glimpse of the old hunter.

His love for the woods knew no abatement with advancing years, and he spent hours, days, and even weeks, in wandering in the grand old forests, breathing the pure fresh air, shooting the timid deer, maneuvering against the Indians, who tracked him many a mile, and returning to his home wearied, but with the same genial good nature, which was one of his distinguishing traits in his early days. In the year 1812, Colonel Boone petitioned Congress for a confirmation of his original claims, and knowing that such petitions cannot have too great weight, he sent a memorial to the General Assembly of Kentucky, asking their assistance in obtaining the desired confirmation from Congress.

That legislature by a unanimous vote, passed the following preamble and resolutions:

"The Legislature of Kentucky, taking into view the many eminent services rendered by Colonel Boone, in exploring and settling the Western country, from which great advantages have resulted, not only to this State, but to his country in general; and that, from circumstances over which he had no control, he is now reduced to poverty, not having, so far as appears, an acre of land out of the vast territory he has been a great instrument in peopling; believing, also, that it is as unjust as impolitic, that useful enterprise and eminent services should go unrewarded by a government where merit confers the only distinction; and having sufficient reason to believe that a grant of ten thousand acres of land which he claims in Upper Louisiana, would have been confirmed by the Spanish government, had not said territory passed, by cession, into the hands of the general government; wherefore,

"Resolved, By the General Assembly of the Commonwealth of Kentucky, that our senators in Congress be requested to make use of their exertions to procure a grant of land in said Territory to said Boone, either the ten thousand acres to which he appears to have an equitable claim, from the grounds set forth to this Legislature, by way of confirmation, or to such quantity in such place as shall be deemed most advisable, by way of donation."

While his memorial was pending in Congress, the wife of Boone died at the age of seventy-six years. His memorial was strongly supported by the most distinguished members from the West, but no action could be secured upon it until the 24th of December, 1813, when the committee on public lands made a report, in which the justice of Boone's claims was admitted, and Congress was recommended to give him one thousand arpents, or 850 acres of land.

The act for the confirmation of the title passed on the 10th of February, 1814. As every emigrant to Louisiana was entitled by law to precisely that number of acres, it is difficult to justify the treatment which Boone received at the hands of the law-makers of the country.

The pioneer was never given any other recognition of his services; and as he was growing old, his relatives, all of whom were tenderly attached to him, saw that no want of his was not fulfilled so far as it was possible for human kindness to fulfill it. He devoted himself mainly to hunting, and, when at home, carved powder-horns and made trinkets for his descendants, some of whom were to the fourth and fifth generation.

These last he frequently gathered around his knees and told of his many thrilling adventures with the Indians, long years before they were born, while he entertained the older friends on the long, dismal wintry evenings, with his narrative of his experiences on the Dark and Bloody Ground, in the days that tried men's souls.