The whites suffer great reverses at the hands of the Indians—Kenton and Hardy go on a scout to old Chillicothe—The surprise and the flight—Kenton’s wonderful leap and escape—Hardy falls into the hands of the savages—The midnight visitor to the camp—Hardy fears a snake and finds a friend—The escape to the river—“I reckon we’ve shaken your last night’s friends”—The journey through the Indian country—Hardy has some new experiences and is initiated to the calling of the scout—The companions encounter dangers and feel hunger—Kenton continues the education that Boone began—At last they come in sight of Chillicothe.

During the year 1779 the settlements of Kentucky were free from attack by large bodies of Indians but several fierce fights took place between the whites and their implacable foes. One of these occurred early in the spring and resulted in a fearful loss to the Kentuckians.

Colonel Rogers, who had been down to New Orleans for supplies, returned by boat up the Mississippi and Ohio with a company of about eighty men. When they had reached the point where Cincinnati now stands their scouts reported a large party of Indians to be issuing in canoes from the mouth of the Little Miami, with the evident intention of invading Kentucky. Rogers determined to attack the Indians and with that view landed and marched his men towards the place where he judged that the canoes would make the shore.

Perhaps the discovery made by the scouts diverted them from a proper reconnoissance of the country along the Kentucky side of the river. At any rate, a large body of Indians that had already crossed remained undiscovered. When the men under Colonel Rogers had taken up their position on the bank, these suddenly assaulted them in the rear. At the same time the warriors in the canoes pushed forward to the attack.

The whites were completely caught in a trap and overwhelmingly outnumbered. The situation was palpably a hopeless one. It was a case in which every man sought his own safety without regard to the others. A few—less than one-fourth of the entire number—contrived to escape along the river bank before retreat was completely cut off. These regained the boats and made off down stream with all possible speed. The remainder fought desperately but were ultimately overcome by sheer weight of numbers.

Upwards of sixty men were lost in this encounter, which was the greatest disaster that ever befell the Kentucky settlers, with the exception of the battle of the Blue Licks, which will be described in due course.

The Kentuckians, stirred by a thirst for revenge, determined upon a formidable expedition into the Indian country. Whilst this movement was in course of preparation Kenton was instructed to make a scout through Kentucky and across the Ohio as far as the town of Chillicothe, which was the contemplated point of attack.

Kenton took Hardy with him and the two set out early in the month of June, burdened with nothing more than their rifles and a plentiful supply of ammunition. They did not follow the direct route but zigzagged east and west of it, so as to cover a wide range of territory, the object being to ascertain if any large parties of Indians were on the move. They came to within a day’s march of the Ohio without having seen any sign of a war-party, though they had come upon many traces of small bands and had caught glimpses of them now and again. In response to their inclinations, as well as with regard to the demands of the task in which they were engaged, they avoided unnecessary encounters. Kenton, like Boone, never fought without provocation, and Hardy had learned his lesson from both.

About seven days after leaving Boonesborough, the scouts—for Kenton treated Hardy as a full-fledged member of the brotherhood—camped within sight of the Ohio. They had eaten a venison steak and were sitting in the gloaming beside the dying embers of their fire. Suddenly Kenton sprang up, crying:

“Injuns, Hardy! Scoot!”

Each seized his rifle and they dashed into the thicket, side by side, as a number of rifles were discharged at them. The Indians were instantly at their heels. Hardy was a fast runner but Kenton could have easily outstripped him. However, the tall, lithe scout kept beside his young companion and with a light touch of the hand upon his back helped him onward. They turned on to a sloping stretch of a few hundred yards and raced down it for dear life. At the bottom Kenton glanced over his shoulder and saw that two of the pursuers were gaining rapidly and must soon overtake them, whilst six or seven more were close behind. He stopped, wheeled round, and fired. The nearest warrior fell and the other slackened his pace. Kenton exchanged rifles with Hardy and they resumed their flight.

Kenton realized at the outset that they were being pursued by a number of active young braves, and he felt that it was only a matter of time when they would be overtaken. Alone, he could have distanced the Indians, but Hardy’s best pace was fatally unequal to the task. Once more Kenton stopped the leader in the pursuit when he was within twenty yards of them. Then the others, realizing that the white men were practically unarmed, set up a yell of exultation and redoubled their efforts.

Slowly but surely the Indians gained. At length four of them were within a hundred feet of the fleeing scouts, when Hardy caught his toe in a vine and fell headlong. Kenton did not check his pace, but on the contrary increased the speed of his flight. The nearest Indians, leaving the fallen youth to be captured by those behind, continued their career after Kenton. The scout began to draw away and had put nearly one hundred yards between him and the redskins when he suddenly found himself obstructed by a narrow ravine. Running his eye along the opening he discerned a place about two hundred yards to the left, where the rocky sides appeared to come close together.

Kenton turned his course towards the spot where he hoped to be able to cross, but the change of direction gave the pursuers an advantage, and by the time the scout had approached the brink they were within a few feet of him. Kenton went on without check of speed and on the edge of the ravine gathered himself together, made a mighty effort, and sprang into the air. He landed safely on the other side.

The Indians stopped short. The leap was at least twenty feet, and none of them dared attempt it. They proceeded hastily to reload their guns, but before one of them was ready to fire Kenton had run on beyond range and they turned back to their companions. The scout, safe from pursuit, stretched himself at full length upon the ground and lit his pipe.

Hardy had been momentarily stunned by his fall. As he struggled to his feet he saw Kenton’s form in mid-air, as the scout took his sensational leap. The next instant Hardy was felled to the ground by a rap on the head with a tomahawk.

The Indians immediately crossed the river with their captive and camped for the night on the other side. Hardy was fast bound, hand and foot, with buffalo thongs, and stretched in the circle which the warriors formed round the fire. Fortunately, he had eaten his evening meal, for the redskins did not offer him a scrap of theirs. They ate their fill, smoked their pipes, and then lay down to sleep.

Hardy lay plunged in gloomy thoughts. He had never before been in the hands of the Indians, and it is no discredit to him that he was filled with fearful apprehensions. That he had not been killed he accepted, with reason, as an indication that his captors were reserving him for the torture. He thought with a shudder of the terrible stories of Kenton’s experience, which the scout had related in the long evenings of the previous winter.

Hardy felt somewhat aggrieved that Kenton had abandoned him so readily. He was forced to confess to himself that had his friend stopped to assist him in all probability they would both have been captured. Still Hardy could not divest his mind of the idea that there was something savoring of desertion in Kenton’s flight whilst his companion lay helpless upon the ground. Somehow, the passage of the river seemed to Hardy to cut him off from hope of help and he lay for hours oppressed by forebodings.

The Indians were sunk in the slumber of assured security and it was past midnight when Hardy became conscious that something was stirring near him. The movement was so slight and noiseless that he supposed it to be occasioned by some insect or reptile. Snakes were numerous in the forest and occasionally caused death. Hardy determined to investigate.

This thing, whatever it was, seemed to be just behind his head. Slowly and cautiously Hardy turned over upon his stomach and raised his head. The fire had been allowed to burn low, but it still emitted a faint light. Hardy dimly discerned the form of some large creature within arm’s length of him. In a few moments it took the shape of a man. Like a flash the truth broke upon him. It was Kenton.

Hardy lay still as a statue, realizing that his safety depended upon leaving himself entirely in the hands of his friend. Satisfied that the captive’s movement had not disturbed the sleepers, Kenton resumed his wriggling progress, advancing silently and by inches. After what seemed to the eager prisoner to have been an hour, Kenton was stretched alongside of him. He felt the relaxation of the thongs about his legs and knew that they had been cut, though so subtle was the touch of the keen knife that he neither heard nor felt the bonds sever. Next the arms were freed, and Kenton whispered in his ear:

“Get away easy, on your belly. Take your time. I’ll get a rifle for you and join you in a few moments.”

Hardy stealthily crawled away from the camp until he had gained a distance of about fifty feet, and then he rose and awaited Kenton. The scout soon rejoined him carrying the arms and ammunition of one of the savages. His own rifle had been left near by, and after regaining it they set out for the river.

The scouts had no difficulty in reaching the bank of the stream, but some hours were consumed in the search for the two canoes in which Hardy’s recent friends had crossed. At length they were found, and the fugitives embarked in one, cutting the other loose and turning it into the current. The first signs of dawn were appearing in the sky when Kenton took up the paddles and began leisurely to propel the craft upstream.

For half an hour or so the friends sat in silence, each occupied with his thoughts. Kenton was turning over in his mind a plan of future action. Hardy, since the daring rescue by Kenton, had been troubled with qualms of conscience. He felt ashamed at the doubts he had entertained of his friend’s loyalty. He longed to ease his mind, but hardly knew how to go about it. At length he said:

“I am afraid that I did you an injustice last night, Kenton. You see, when you ran off, leaving me lying upon the ground, I thought that you might—that is, it seemed to me——”

“I see,” said Kenton, with a laugh. “You thought I had given you the long leg, eh? I don’t wonder. I’d have stayed by you, Hardy, if it could have done any good. But if I had, we’d both be going to a hair-raising party now.”

“I understand,” replied Hardy, “and I understood then. I only want you to forgive me for having had the least doubt about it.”

“That’s all right, young ’un!” cried Kenton heartily, extending his hand. “Say no more about it. I think we might make shore here.”

To Hardy’s surprise, Kenton shot the canoe into the north bank, that is, the one from which they had embarked. Noting the puzzled expression on his companion’s face, Kenton said:

“Why, you haven’t forgotten that we are bound for Chillicothe, have you, Hardy? I reckon we’ve shaken your last night’s friends and now we’ll go about our own business. But we must hide the canoe where we are likely to find it when we come back. I swam over this morning, but we may be in a greater hurry than I was when we cross going home.”

They found what appeared to be a safe hiding place for the canoe and carefully marked the spot. Then they turned their faces towards old Chillicothe, which lay somewhat more than two days’ journey to the north. They were now not only in the Indian country during the season of greatest travel, but passing through a section of it that was cut up by trails running in every direction. It behooved them, therefore, to proceed with the utmost caution. They dared not light a fire, and were forced to subsist upon some water-soaked parched corn which Kenton had in his wallet and the edible berries that they occasionally found in the forest.

Hardy realized that these hardships and experiences were the best possible training for him. He cheerfully accepted the situation and positively refused to accept the larger portions of their scanty fare that Kenton pressed upon him. They had many a playful dispute on the subject, Hardy contending that Kenton was the bigger and therefore needed the more nourishment, and Kenton maintaining that his stomach was the better trained and consequently the better able to get along on short rations. Sometimes, when they were both hungry as wolves, they would engage in one of these arguments for half an hour, whilst the untouched corn and berries, lay between them.

With two such tutors as Boone and Kenton, it is hardly necessary to say that a bright and eager lad such as Hardy Goodfellow was, had by this time developed into a really creditable woodsman. Kenton’s method was much the same as Boone’s had been in the dear old hunting days in Clinch Valley. He let Hardy understand that he was depending upon him and only interfered to point out some serious oversight or failure on the part of his pupil.

In this journey to Chillicothe they constantly encountered signs of Indians. Kenton required Hardy to decide how long a time had elapsed since the party passed, how many persons there were in it, their sexes and physical condition, whether or not they had carried burdens, the speed at which they had been going, and a score of other deductions. Hardy was very often at fault, but seldom a second time on the same point.

Before noon of the third day they arrived within sight of Chillicothe, and lay hidden in the undergrowth to await the shades of evening.