That May day ended in a lovely evening, warm enough to make outside air the most agreeable, so directly after an early tea the Woodburn family gathered upon the veranda, where they were presently joined by the Sunnyside folk, babies and all, who received the warmest of welcomes, though they had been absent from the older home but a few hours.

Naturally the first topic of conversation related to that day's visit from Grandma Elsie and Walter and its main object—the appeal for help to the good work going on among the mountaineers of Kentucky and Tennessee.

"I am glad we were given the opportunity to help it," remarked the captain. "It has set me to thinking of the pioneers and early settlers of that section of our land. Among them Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton."

"Oh, papa, please tell us about them!" exclaimed Elsie.

"Some time, daughter," he answered pleasantly; "but the rest of this little company may not care to hear the old stories repeated just now."

At that there was a unanimous expression of desire to do so, and he presently began.

"Simon Kenton's lifetime took in both our wars with England, as he was born in 1755 and lived until April, 1836. Virginia was his native State, but his father was Irish and his mother Scotch. They were poor, and Simon received but little education. At the age of sixteen he had a fight with another young fellow named William Veach about a love affair. He thought he had killed Veach, so fled over the Alleghanies. There he called himself Simon Butler. He formed friendships with traders and hunters, among them Simon Girty."

"Girty, that cruel, cruel wretch!" cried Elsie. "How could anybody want to have him for a friend?"

"He was a bad, cruel man," replied her father, "but perhaps never had any good teaching. His father had died and his mother married again, and they were all taken prisoners by the Indians and his step-father burned at the stake when Simon Girty was but five years old. It was three years before he was released, and I do not know that he ever had any education. Many cruel deeds are told of him, but he was really a good friend to Simon Kenton, and once saved him from being burned at the stake by the Indians.

"But to go back, Kenton was soon persuaded by a young man named Yager, who had been taken by the Western Indians when a child, and spent a good many years among them, to go with him to a land called by the Indians Kan-tuc-kee, which he described as a most delightful place.

"They two, with a third young man named Strader, set off in high spirits, expecting to find a paradise. But they wandered through the wilderness for weeks hoping to find the promised land, but without success. Then they tried hunting and trapping for nearly two years. But being discovered by the Indians, they had to abandon those hunting grounds and try elsewhere; but to tell of it all would make too long a story.

"In 1778 Kenton joined Daniel Boone in his expedition against the Indian town on Paint Creek. On his return from that he was sent by Colonel Bowman, with two companions, to make observations upon the Indian towns on Little Miami, the colonel considering the idea of an expedition against them. Kenton reached the spot in safety, and if he had attended only to what he was sent to do he might have succeeded well and been very useful to the settlers in Kentucky, but before leaving the towns he stole a number of the Indians' horses.

"The Indians missed their horses early the next morning, found the trail of those who had taken them, and at once pursued after them. Kenton and his companions soon heard the cries of the Indians in their rear and knew they were being pursued, so saw the necessity of riding for their lives, which they did, dashing through the woods at a furious rate, with the hue and cry of the Indians after them ringing in their ears; but suddenly they came to an impenetrable swamp.

"There they paused a few moments, listening for the sounds of pursuit; but hearing none, they started on again, skirted the swamp for some distance, hoping to be able to cross it, but finding they could not, they dashed on in a straight line for the Ohio. For forty-eight hours they continued their furious speed, halting only once or twice for a few minutes to eat a little, and reached the Ohio in safety. But there they had to pause and consider what to do, for the river was high and rough and the jaded horses could not be induced to try to swim it. The men might yet have escaped if they had only abandoned the horses; but that Kenton could not make up his mind to do. He and his companions consulted over the matter, and feeling sure that they were as much as twelve hours in advance of their Indian pursuers, they decided to conceal the horses in the nearby ravine and themselves in an adjoining wood, hoping that by sunset the high wind would abate and the river become quiet enough for them to cross safely with the animals.

"But when the waited-for time came the wind was higher and the water rougher than ever. Still they stayed where they were through the night. The next morning was mild, and they heard no sound of pursuing Indians, so they again tried to urge the horses over the river. But the animals seemed to remember its condition on the previous day, and could not be induced to go into it at all.

"It was quite a drove of horses they had stolen, but now they found they must abandon all but the three they could mount; so that they did, and started down the river, with the intention to keep the Ohio and Indiana side till they should arrive opposite Louisville.

"But they had waited too long, and even now were slow in carrying out their intention. They had not gone more than a hundred yards on their horses when they heard a loud halloo, coming apparently from the spot they had just left. They could not escape; were quickly surrounded by their pursuers, one of Kenton's companions killed, the other, effecting his escape while Kenton was taken prisoner, falling a victim to his love of horses."

"I suppose he deserved it, as he had stolen the horses," remarked Elsie.

"Yes," replied her father, "he had no more right to steal from the Indians than from white people, and his sin found him out."

"Did they kill him, papa?" asked Ned.

"No; they kicked and cuffed him as much as they cared to, then made him lie down upon his back and stretch his arms to their full length, passed a stout stick across his breast and fastened his wrists to each extremity of it by thongs of buffalo-hide. Then they drove stakes into the ground near his feet and fastened them in the same way. After that they tied a halter round his neck and fastened it to a sapling growing near. Lastly they passed a strong rope under his body, wound it several times round his arms at the elbows, so lashing them to the stick which lay across his breast, and to which his wrists were fastened; all this in a manner that was peculiarly painful. He could not move at all, either feet, arms or head, and was kept in that position till the next morning. Then, as they wanted to go back to the spot from which they had come, they unfastened him, put him on the back of a wild, unbroken colt, one of those he had stolen, lashed him by the feet to it and tied his hands behind him. And so he was driven into the cruel captivity, a captivity which has been spoken of as being as singular and remarkable in other respects as any in the whole history of Indian warfare upon this continent.

"Kenton refused with strange infatuation to adopt proper measures for his safety while he might have done so. With strange obstinacy he remained on the Ohio shore until flight became useless. He was often at one hour tantalized with a prospect of safety and the next plunged into the deepest despair. Eight times he had to run the gauntlet, three times he was tied to a stake and thought himself about to suffer a terrible death. Any sentence passed upon him by one council, whether to give him mercy or death, would presently be reversed by another. Whenever Providence raised up a friend in his favor, some enemy immediately followed, unexpectedly interposed and turned his glimpse of sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For three weeks he was in that manner see-sawing between life and death."

"And did they kill him at last, papa?" asked Ned.

"No," replied the captain. "An Indian agent of the name of Drewyer, who was anxious to gain intelligence for the British commander at Detroit in regard to the strength and condition of the settlements in Kentucky, got Kenton free from the Indians just as for the fourth time they were about to bind him to a stake and burn him. He (Drewyer) did not get anything of importance out of Kenton, who was three weeks later sent a prisoner to Detroit, from which place he made his escape in about eight months; then he went back to Kentucky. He was very brave, a valuable scout, a hardy woodsman, a good Indian fighter. He performed many daring feats as the friend and companion of Daniel Boone, once saving his life in a conflict with the Indians."

"Had not Logan something to do with Kenton's rescue by that Canadian trader Drewyer?" asked Harold, who had been listening with interest to the captain's story.

"Yes," was the reply; "Logan, the Mingo chief. At Detroit Kenton was held as a prisoner of war, and there he worked for the garrison at half pay, till he was aided by a trader's wife to escape. That was in July, 1779. He commanded a battalion of Kentucky volunteers as major under General Anthony Wayne in 1793-94, became brigadier-general of Ohio militia in 1805, and fought at the battle of the Thames in 1813."

"I hope his country rewarded his great services as it ought," remarked Grace in tones of inquiry.

"Ah!" replied her father, "I am sorry to say that in his old age he was reduced to poverty, the immense tracts of land which he possessed being lost through the invasion of settlers and his ignorance of law.

"In 1824 he went to Frankfort to petition the legislature of Kentucky to release the claim of the State upon some mountain land owned by him. He was in tattered garments, and his appearance excited ridicule, but on being recognized by General Thomas Fletcher, he was taken to the capitol, seated in the speaker's chair, and introduced to a large assembly as the second great adventurer of the West. His lands were released and a pension of $240 was procured for him from Congress.

"He died near the spot where, fifty-eight years before, he had escaped death at the hands of the Indians. Kenton County, Kentucky, was named in his honor.

"Now let me read you a passage from a book I was examining the other day, in which there is an interesting account of Kenton's appearance and manner in his old age," said the captain. "It is in the library, and I shall be back with it in a moment."

Several of the younger ones in the little company at once offered to do the errand for him, but thanking them, and saying that he could find it more readily than they, he went in, and soon returned with the book in his hand. Then he read aloud, "'Kenton's form, even under the weight of seventy-nine years, is striking, and must have been a model of manly strength and agility. His eye is blue, mild and yet penetrating in its glance. The forehead projects very much at the eyebrows, which are well defined, and then recedes, and is neither very high nor very broad. His hair, which in active life was light, is now quite gray; his nose is straight, and his mouth before he lost his teeth must have been expressive and handsome. I observed that he had yet one tooth, which, in connection with his character and manner of conversation, was continually reminding me of Leatherstocking. The whole face is remarkably expressive, not of turbulence or excitement, but rather of rumination and self-possession. Simplicity, frankness, honesty and strict regard to truth appeared to be the prominent traits of his character. In giving an answer to a question which my friend asked him, I was particularly struck with his truthfulness and simplicity. The question was, whether the account of his life, given in the "Sketches of Western Adventure" was true or not. "Well, I'll tell you," said he, "not true. The book says that when Blackfish, the Injun warrior, asked me, when they had taken me prisoner, if Colonel Boone sent me to steal their horses, I said 'No, sir.'" Here he looked indignant and rose from his chair. "I tell you I never said 'sir' to an Injun in my life; I scarcely ever say it to a white man." Here Mrs. Kenton, who was engaged in some domestic occupation at the table, turned round and remarked that when they were last in Kentucky some one gave her the book to read to her husband, and that when she came to that part he would not let her read any further. "And I tell you," continued he, "I was never tied to a stake in my life to be burned. They had me painted black when I saw Girty, but not tied to a stake." We are inclined to think, notwithstanding this, that the statement in the Sketches of his being three times tied to the stake is correct, for the author of that interesting work had before him a manuscript account of the pioneer's life, which had been dictated by Mr. Kenton to a gentleman of Kentucky a number of years before, when he had no motive to exaggerate and his memory was comparatively unimpaired. But he is now beyond the reach of earthly toil, or trouble, or suffering. His old age was as exemplary as his youth and manhood had been active and useful. And though his last years were clouded by poverty, and his eyes closed in a miserable cabin to the light of life, yet shall he occupy a bright page in our border history and his name soon open to the light of fame.'"

A slight pause followed the conclusion of the captain's reading of the sketch of the life of Kenton, then Grace said earnestly, "Thank you, father, for giving us so extended an account of Kenton's life and services to our country. He deserved the kindly and grateful remembrance of his countrymen."

"So I think," said Harold, "and that he will never be forgotten. Poor fellow! I am sorry indeed that he was robbed of his lands, and so spent his old age and died in poverty."