With his usual coolness and fortitude, the great scout continued on his way, and without further trouble arrived at the fort.

"Peleg," he said the following day, when the two were labouring in the field together, "Blue Licks somehow seems to be destined to be a place of trouble and sorrow for me. Only a few days ago my brother was calling my attention to that fact and now his death has confirmed his words. It grieves me that I could not even bring away his body. That, however, is a part of the fortune of pioneers, and as no man ever yet has heard me whine, I do not intend to begin now. But my brother's death is a source of very heavy sorrow to me."

"Do you think the Indians are planning another attack?"

"Not right away. I suspect that they are trying to attack or capture me. Their anger against the settlement doubtless is as keen as ever, but they look upon me as one who has deserted their tribe. Some day they will find me. But I have one consolation, and that is that they will not find me unprepared."

The words of the scout concerning the further attacks by the Indians were confirmed during the year that followed. The little settlement at Boonesborough steadily increased in numbers and prosperity. For a time, free from the attacks of the Indians, the families toiled in their fields. More extensive clearings were made and in the marvellously fertile soil the crops were bountiful. There were many new homes established in the community, too, for among the continually arriving settlers were many young women.

In the quiet labours on his clearing Boone found peace and comfort such as he seldom had enjoyed. Peleg, who had secured some land adjoining the farm of his friend, worked with the scout and Israel, and as they assisted one another both places steadily improved.

The feeling of Boone, however, that he was still an object of hatred among the Shawnees was confirmed repeatedly. His most critical experience came one day when, all unknown to the scout, four athletic Shawnees were detailed by Blackfish to approach the settlement without arousing any suspicions of their presence, watch the movements of the scout, and either bring him back to the tribe or bring his scalp.

On his farm the scout had erected, not far from his cabin, a little house in which he dried the tobacco he cultivated. The little building stood in the midst of his tobacco patch. Within the house there were three tiers of timber from which the tobacco leaves were hanging to dry.

Boone and Peleg were busily engaged here one autumn day, almost unmindful of peril, the younger scout believing that the fears of his friend were without foundation.

"The tobacco on this lower tier," said Boone after he had made a careful investigation, "seems to be entirely dry."

"Then we had better change the sticks to the tier above," responded Peleg. "That will leave plenty of room for the leaves we have not brought in as yet."

"That's a good suggestion," answered Boone, and together the two scouts began to transfer the sticks from the lower to the second tier.

Peleg departed from the building to bring in more of the tobacco leaves and left Boone standing on the poles that separated the upper tiers.

Suddenly as the scout glanced below him he saw four Shawnee warriors stealthily enter through the door and laugh as they looked up to him.

"You no get away some more," said one of them whom Boone recognized as Owaneeyo, "We take you to Chillicothe this time. You no cheat us some more."

Every one of the savages was armed and looking up into Boone's face, while the direction in which the guns were aimed added force to this declaration.

Not for a moment losing his self-control, and aware that he was in the greatest peril of his life, Boone's careful preparation now showed its value. "Ah!" said he quietly. "Glad to see you, my friends. How have you been this long time?"

"Been heap mad," said Owaneeyo, frowning in a manner which betrayed his rising anger. "You come down."

"I shall be very glad to go with you, my friends. Tell me, how is Blackfish these days?"

"You come down!" repeated Owaneeyo.

"I just told you," said Boone, "that I shall be glad to come down. I prefer, however, to have you wait until I finish with my tobacco." In the hunter's heart there was hope that Peleg would discover his predicament and bring him aid before he should be seized by the angry warriors.

"Make yourselves comfortable," continued Boone pleasantly. "You see I cannot get down from here and I cannot get away from you." The scout paused a moment and glanced at his would-be captors.

"You like tobacco?" he resumed. "When I have this cured I will give some of it to you and we will smoke together."

The Indians were becoming impatient, and plainly were unaware of what the scout was doing. Continuing his conversation and making more inquiries concerning his friends in the Indian town, he did his utmost to hold the attention of his dangerous visitors while he gathered together some armfuls of tobacco.

Carefully arranging the bundles of the dry tobacco between the poles and standing where he was able to look directly down into the faces of his enemies, Boone suddenly cut the strings by which the sticks of tobacco were held. At the same moment, with his arms full of the dried leaves, he leaped down upon the Indians, and instantly filled their mouths and eyes with dry tobacco dust. The Shawnees were blinded and well-nigh suffocated in the little tobacco house. There were sneezes and shouts and cries from the startled warriors, who now were unable to see even the direction in which the door was located.

Darting from the little house, the scout made his escape and ran swiftly to his cabin. In a moment he seized his trusty rifle, but as he returned to the tobacco house he saw the Indians running blindly and staggering toward the woods.

Boone restrained his impulse to fire upon the fleeing warriors, and called to Peleg and Israel, who with several of the younger members of the settlement were now hurriedly approaching, all of them prepared to pursue the departing Shawnees.

"Do not go after them!" called Boone.

Reluctantly the young men halted, and Peleg said: "Why do you not want us to chase them? We might have had every one of them."

"If the Shawnees do not go on the warpath, why should we?"

"They were on the warpath for you!" said Israel. "It was lucky you got away."

Boone laughed silently as he recalled the appearance of the Indians when he had thrown the tobacco dust into their faces. "I am sure," he said, "the Shawnees will remember what I said to them and how they were treated by me. Perhaps it will do more good than it will to shoot them."

The months passed and the peace of the settlement remained unbroken. Few even suspected the terrible struggle which was awaiting them.

The game in the forest was becoming somewhat scarce. The settlers, increasing steadily in numbers, now were scattered from the Kentucky River to the Ohio. It was commonly believed that the Indians had finally accepted the coming of the whites as inevitable, and no longer were ready to dispute their occupation of the western forests.

The one marked exception was Daniel Boone. To all the assertions of his friends he replied by expressing his own conviction that the red men were simply biding their time. No one was more familiar with the Indian ways and thoughts than the scout and he was positive that they had not forgotten the injuries which they had sustained at the hands of the whites. Sooner or later they would strive to obtain vengeance and at the same time unite in a supreme endeavour to drive the hated people from the lands which they believed to be their own.

"I am more convinced than ever that trouble is brewing," said Boone one day to Peleg and Israel, who now were his frequent companions. "I know Simon Girty, and a worse man never lived. He is a renegade and a traitor. He has given up living among the whites, and in everything but colour and in their better qualities he has become an Indian. I am sure that we shall hear from him before many months have passed."

Little the great scout dreamed that even while he was expressing his opinion to the boys, runners at that very time had been sent by Simon Girty to many of the northwestern tribes, urging them all to lay aside the jealousy they felt for one another and unite in one common cause against the white invaders.

The following spring the storm burst. As the pattering raindrops sometimes fall at the beginning of a downpour, so among the scattered settlements a renewal of attacks by prowling bands of Indians indicated what was to follow.

One day when Daniel Boone returned to his home he was unusually cast down. He explained that he had just learned of an attack which a party of twenty-five Wyandottes had made upon Estill's Station. The warriors had stolen into a little cabin which was apart from the others in the settlement. They had seized the occupants—a woman and her two daughters—and tomahawked and scalped all three. The bodies were still warm when they were discovered upon the floor of the cabin by neighbours. The scout told what followed.

"Immediately Captain Estill collected a band of twenty-five daring men and followed the Indians more swiftly than I followed the band which took Jemima prisoner. The Wyandottes at first seemed to be frightened and began to run, but at last they made a stand on one side of a creek, while the whites were on the other. They were not more than fifty yards apart and every man was sheltered behind a tree or rock and firing at any enemy that could be seen. Captain Estill had lost one third of his men and had shot about as many of the Indians, but the braves were still returning his fire, and showed no signs of leaving. He thought if he should keep up that kind of a fight, every one at last would be killed, unless perhaps it should be the very last white or Indian.

"Mindful of this, Captain Estill sent out a party of six men, led by Lieutenant Miller, telling them to creep around and attack the Indians on their flank. But the chief was as shrewd as the captain, and as soon as he saw that the fire of the whites was slowing up in front of him, he instantly made a stronger attack upon the men that were left. Jumping into the water, they fell upon the captain and his men, driving them before them and killing a good many. Those who escaped finally got back to the Station, and you can readily see how alarmed the people are."

"What happened to Captain Estill?" inquired Israel, greatly shocked by the story of his father.

"He and eight more of his men were killed, and, besides, four were wounded."

"That's more than half that went out, isn't it?" inquired Peleg.

"Yes," answered Daniel Boone.

The report of the misfortune which had overtaken the men of Estill's Station was speedily succeeded by another report no less alarming. A band of Indians had crept up to Hoy's Station and there had stolen two little boys.

Quickly Captain Holder gathered a band of seventeen angry men and started in pursuit of the Indians. It was not long before he overtook them, but he and his men were driven back after more than half the party had fallen.

The alarm now became widespread. The success which had attended the plans of the Indians encouraged them to continue their efforts. Sometimes singly, frequently in small parties, they crept close to the settlements and by their stealthy attacks kept the people in continual alarm.

There was no one now to dispute the great scout's prophecy that more serious trouble was to come. Within a few weeks an army of Indians, made up of bands from many of the northwestern tribes and numbering nearly six hundred warriors, began its march from Chillicothe.

The renegade Girty was in command. The little army moved with great caution, and their approach was unsuspected by the whites. One August night they arrived at Bryant's Station, surrounded it, and prepared to dash upon the unsuspecting people the moment the gates should be opened the following morning.