Clark’s Conquests Benefit Kentucky.

Clark’s successful campaigns against the Illinois towns and Vincennes, besides giving the Americans a foothold north of the Ohio, were of the utmost importance to Kentucky.  Until this time, the Kentucky settlers had been literally fighting for life and home, and again and again their strait had been so bad, that it seemed ­and was ­almost an even chance whether they would be driven from the land.  The successful outcome of Clark’s expedition temporarily overawed the Indians, and, moreover, made the French towns outposts for the protection of the settlers; so that for several years thereafter the tribes west of the Wabash did but little against the Americans.  The confidence of the backwoodsmen in their own ultimate triumph was likewise very much increased; while the fame of the western region was greatly spread abroad.  From all these causes it resulted that there was an immediate and great increase of immigration thither, the bulk of the immigrants of course stopping in Kentucky, though a very few, even thus early, went to Illinois.  Every settlement in Kentucky was still in jeopardy, and there came moments of dejection, when some of her bravest leaders spoke gloomily of the possibility of the Americans being driven from the land.  But these were merely words such as even strong men utter when sore from fresh disaster.  After the spring of 1779, there was never any real danger that the whites would be forced to abandon Kentucky.

    The Land Laws.

The land laws which the Virginia Legislature enacted about this time were partly a cause, partly a consequence, of the increased emigration to Kentucky, and of the consequent rise in the value of its wild lands.  Long before the Revolution, shrewd and far-seeing speculators had organized land companies to acquire grants of vast stretches of western territory; but the land only acquired an actual value for private individuals after the incoming of settlers.  In addition to the companies, many private individuals had acquired rights to tracts of land; some, under the royal proclamation, giving bounties to the officers and soldiers in the French war; others by actual payment into the public treasury. The Virginia Legislature now ratified all titles to regularly surveyed ground claimed under charter, military bounty, and old treasury rights, to the extent of four hundred acres each.  Tracts of land were reserved as bounties for the Virginia troops, both Continentals and militia.  Each family of actual settlers was allowed a settlement right to four hundred acres for the small sum of nine dollars, and, if very poor, the land was given them on credit.  Every such settler also acquired a preemptive right to purchase a thousand acres adjoining, at the regulation State price, which was forty pounds, paper money, or forty dollars in specie, for every hundred acres.  One peculiar provision was made necessary by the system of settling in forted villages.  Every such village was allowed six hundred and forty acres, which no outsider could have surveyed or claim, for it was considered, the property of the townsmen, to be held in common until an equitable division could be made; while each family likewise had a settlement right to four hundred acres adjoining the village.  The vacant lands were sold, warrants for a hundred acres costing forty dollars in specie; but later on, towards the close of the war, Virginia tried to buoy up her mass of depreciated paper currency by accepting it nearly at par for land warrants, thereby reducing the cost of these to less than fifty cents for a hundred acres.  No warrant applied to a particular spot; it was surveyed on any vacant or presumably vacant ground.  Each individual had the surveying done wherever he pleased, the county surveyor usually appointing some skilled woodsman to act as his deputy.

In the end the natural result of all this was to involve half the people of Kentucky in lawsuits over their land, as there were often two or three titles to each patch, and the surveys crossed each other in hopeless tangles.  Immediately, the system gave a great stimulus to immigration, for it made it easy for any incoming settler to get title to his farm, and it also strongly attracted all land speculators.  Many well-to-do merchants or planters of the seaboard sent agents out to buy lands in Kentucky; and these agents either hired the old pioneers, such as Boon and Kenton, to locate and survey the lands, or else purchased their claims from them outright.  The advantages of following the latter plan were of course obvious; for the pioneers were sure to have chosen fertile, well-watered spots; and though they asked more than the State, yet, ready money was so scarce, and the depreciation of the currency so great, that even thus the land only cost a few cents an acre. before me John A. Woodcock, a Justice of the peace of same county, who being of full age deposeth and saith that about the first of June 1780, being in Kentuckey and empowered to purchase Land, for Mr. James Ware, he the deponent agreed with a certain Simon Kenton of Kentucky for 1000 Acres of Land about 2 or 3 miles from the big salt spring on Licking, that the sd.  Kenton on condition that the sd.  Smith would pay him L100 in hand and L100 more when sd.  Land was surveyed,... sd.  Kenton on his part wou’d have the land surveyed, and a fee Simple made there to.... sd.  Land was first rate Land and had a good Spring thereon.... he agreed to warrant and defend the same ... against all persons whatsoever.... sworn too before me this 17th day of No.”  Later on, the purchaser, who did not take possession of the land for eight or nine years, feared it would not prove as fertile as Kenton had said, and threatened to sue Kenton; but Kenton evidently had the whip-hand in the controversy, for the land being out in the wilderness, the purchaser did not know its exact location, and when he threatened suit, and asked to be shown it, Kenton “swore that he would not shoe it at all.”  Letter of James Ware, No, 1789.]

    Inrush of Settlers.

Thus it came about that with the fall of 1779 a strong stream of emigration set towards Kentucky, from the backwoods districts of Pennsylvania, Virginia, and North Carolina.  In company with the real settlers came many land speculators, and also many families of weak, irresolute, or shiftless people, who soon tired of the ceaseless and grinding frontier strife for life, and drifted back to the place whence they had come. Thus there were ever two tides ­the larger setting towards Kentucky, the lesser towards the old States; so that the two streams passed each other on the Wilderness road ­for the people who came down the Ohio could not return against the current.  Very many who did not return nevertheless found they were not fitted to grapple with the stern trials of existence on the border.  Some of these succumbed outright; others unfortunately survived, and clung with feeble and vicious helplessness to the skirts of their manlier fellows; and from them have descended the shiftless squatters, the “mean whites,” the listless, uncouth men who half-till their patches of poor soil, and still cumber the earth in out-of-the-way nooks from the crannies of the Alleghanies to the canyons of the southern Rocky Mountains.

In April, before this great rush of immigration began, but when it was clearly foreseen that it would immediately take place, the county court of Kentucky issued a proclamation to the new settlers, recommending them to keep as united and compact as possible, settling in “stations” or forted towns; and likewise advising each settlement to choose three or more trustees to take charge of their public affairs. Their recommendations and advice were generally followed.

    Bowman Attacks Chillicothe.

During 1779 the Indian war dragged on much as usual.  The only expedition of importance was that undertaken in May by one hundred and sixty Kentuckians, commanded by the county lieutenant, John Bowman, against the Indian town of Chillicothe. Logan, Harrod, and other famous frontier fighters went along.  The town was surprised, several cabins burned, and a number of horses captured.  But the Indians rallied, and took refuge in a central block-house and a number of strongly built cabins surrounding it, from which they fairly beat off the whites.  They then followed to harass the rear of their retreating foes, but were beaten off in turn.  Of the whites, nine were killed and two or three wounded; the Indians’ loss was two killed and five or six wounded.

The defeat caused intense mortification to the whites; but in reality the expedition was of great service to Kentucky, though the Kentuckians never knew it.  The Detroit people had been busily organizing expeditions against Kentucky.  Captain Henry Bird had been given charge of one, and he had just collected two hundred Indians at the Mingo town when news of the attack on Chillicothe arrived.  Instantly the Indians dissolved in a panic, some returning to defend their towns; others were inclined to beg peace of the Americans.  So great was their terror that it was found impossible to persuade them to make any inroad as long as they deemed themselves menaced by a counter attack of the Kentuckians.

    Occasional Indian Forays.

It is true that bands of Mingos, Hurons, Delawares, and Shawnees made occasional successful raids against the frontier, and brought their scalps and prisoners in triumph to Detroit, where they drank such astonishing quantities of rum as to incite the indignation of the British commander-in-chief. But instead of being able to undertake any formidable expedition against the settlers, the Detroit authorities were during this year much concerned for their own safety, taking every possible means to provide for the defence, and keeping a sharp look-out for any hostile movement of the Americans.

The incoming settlers were therefore left in comparative peace.  They built many small palisaded towns, some of which proved permanent, while others vanished utterly when the fear of the Indians was removed and the families were able to scatter out on their farms.  At the Falls of the Ohio a regular fort was built, armed with cannon and garrisoned by Virginia troops, who were sent down the river expressly to reinforce Clark.  The Indians never dared assail this fort; but they ravaged up to its walls, destroying the small stations on Bear Grass Creek and scalping settlers and soldiers when they wandered far from the protection of the stockade.

    The Hard Winter.

The new-comers of 1779 were destined to begin with a grim experience, for the ensuing winter was the most severe ever known in the west, and was long recalled by the pioneers as the “hard winter.”  Cold weather set in towards the end of November, the storms following one another in unbroken succession, while the snow lay deep until the spring.  Most of the cattle, and very many of the horses, perished; and deer and elk were likewise found dead in the woods, or so weak and starved that they would hardly move out of the way, while the buffalo often came up at nightfall to the yards, seeking to associate with the starving herds of the settlers. The scanty supply of corn gave out, until there was not enough left to bake into johnny-cakes on the long boards in front of the fire. Even at the Falls, where there were stores for the troops, the price of corn went up nearly fourfold, while elsewhere among the stations of the interior it could not be had at any price, and there was an absolute dearth both of salt and of vegetable food, the settlers living for weeks on the flesh of the lean wild game, especially of the buffalo. The hunters searched with especial eagerness for the bears in the hollow trees, for they alone among the animals kept fat; and the breast of the wild turkey served for bread. Nevertheless, even in the midst of this season of cold and famine, the settlers began to take the first steps for the education of their children.  In this year Joseph Doniphan, whose son long afterwards won fame in the Mexican war, opened the first regular school at Boonsborough, and one of the McAfees likewise served as a teacher through the winter. But from the beginning some of the settlers’ wives had now and then given the children in the forts a few weeks’ schooling.

Through the long, irksome winter, the frontiersmen remained crowded within the stockades.  The men hunted, while the women made the clothes, of tanned deer-hides, buffalo-wool cloth, and nettle-bark linen.  In stormy weather, when none could stir abroad, they turned or coopered the wooden vessels; for tin cups were as rare as iron forks, and the “noggin” was either hollowed out of the knot of a tree, or else made with small staves and hoops. Every thing was of home manufacture ­for there was not a store in Kentucky, ­and the most expensive domestic products seem to have been the hats, made of native fur, mink, coon, fox, wolf, and beaver.  If exceptionally fine, and of valuable fur, they cost five hundred dollars in paper money, which had not at that time depreciated a quarter as much in outlying Kentucky as at the seat of government.

As soon as the great snow-drifts began to melt, and thereby to produce freshets of unexampled height, the gaunt settlers struggled out to their clearings, glad to leave the forts.  They planted corn, and eagerly watched the growth of the crop; and those who hungered after oatmeal or wheaten bread planted other grains as well, and apple-seeds and peach-stones.

    Many New Settlers Arrive in the Spring.

As soon as the spring of 1780 opened, the immigrants began to arrive more numerously than ever.  Some came over the Wilderness road; among these there were not a few haggard, half-famished beings, who, having stalled too late the previous fall, had been overtaken by the deep snows, and forced to pass the winter in the iron-bound and desolate valleys of the Alleghanies, subsisting on the carcasses of their stricken cattle, and seeing their weaker friends starve or freeze before their eyes.  Very many came down the Ohio, in flat-boats.  A good-sized specimen of these huge unwieldly scows was fifty-five feet long, twelve broad, and six deep, drawing three feet of water; but the demand was greater than the supply, and a couple of dozen people, with half as many horses, and all their effects, might be forced to embark on a flat-boat not twenty-four feet in length. Usually several families came together, being bound by some tie of neighborhood or purpose.  Not infrequently this tie was religious, for in the back settlements the few churches were almost as much social as religious centres.  Thus this spring, a third of the congregation of a Low Dutch Reformed Church came to Kentucky bodily, to the number of fifty heads of families, with their wives and children, their beasts of burden and pasture, and their household goods; like most bands of new immigrants, they suffered greatly from the Indians, much more than did the old settlers. The following year a Baptist congregation came out from Virginia, keeping up its organization even while on the road, the preacher holding services at every long halt.

    De Peyster at Detroit.

Soon after the rush of spring immigration was at its height, the old settlers and the new-comers alike were thrown into the utmost alarm by a formidable inroad of Indians, accompanied by French partisans, and led by a British officer.  De Peyster, a New York tory of old Knickerbocker family, had taken command at Detroit.  He gathered the Indians around him from far and near, until the expense of subsidizing these savages became so enormous as to call forth serious complaints from head-quarters. He constantly endeavored to equip and send out different bands, not only to retake the Illinois and Vincennes, but to dislodge Clark from the Falls; he was continually receiving scalps and prisoners, and by May he had fitted out two thousand warriors to act along the Ohio and the Wabash. The rapid growth of Kentucky especially excited his apprehension, and his main stroke was directed against the clusters of wooden forts that were springing up south of the Ohio.

    Bird’s Inroad.

Late in May, some six hundred Indians and a few Canadians, with a couple of pieces of light field artillery, were gathered and put under the command of Captain Henry Bird.  Following the rivers where practicable, that he might the easier carry his guns, he went down the Miami, and on the 22d of June, surprised and captured without resistance Ruddle’s and Martin’s stations, two small stockades on the South Fork of the Licking. But Bird was not one of the few men fitted to command such a force as that which followed him; and contenting himself with the slight success he had won, he rapidly retreated to Detroit, over the same path by which he had advanced.  The Indians carried off many horses, and loaded their prisoners with the plunder, tomahawking those, chiefly women and children, who could not keep up with the rest; and Bird could not control them nor force them to show mercy to their captives. He did not even get his cannon back to Detroit, leaving them at the British store in one of the upper Miami towns, in charge of a bombardier.  The bombardier did not prove a very valorous personage, and on the alarm of Clark’s advance, soon afterwards, he permitted the Indians to steal his horses, and was forced to bury his ordnance in the woods.

    Clark Hears the News

Before this inroad took place Clark had been planning a foray into the Indian country, and the news only made him hasten his preparations.  In May this adventurous leader had performed one of the feats which made him the darling of the backwoodsmen.  Painted and dressed like an Indian so as to deceive the lurking bands of savages, he and two companions left the fort he had built on the bank of the Mississippi, and came through the wilderness to Harrodsburg.  They lived on the buffaloes they shot, and when they came to the Tennessee River, which was then in flood, they crossed the swift torrent on a raft of logs bound together with grapevines.  At Harrodsburg they found the land court open, and thronged with an eager, jostling crowd of settlers and speculators, who were waiting to enter lands in the surveyor’s office.  Even the dread of the Indians could not overcome in these men’s hearts the keen and selfish greed for gain.  Clark instantly grasped the situation.  Seeing that while the court remained open he could get no volunteers, he on his own responsibility closed it off-hand, and proclaimed that it would not be opened until after he came back from his expedition.  The speculators grumbled and clamored, but this troubled Clark not at all, for he was able to get as many volunteers as he wished.  The discontent, and still more the panic over Bird’s inroad, made many of the settlers determine to flee from the country, but Clark sent a small force to Crab Orchard, at the mouth of the Wilderness road, the only outlet from Kentucky, with instructions to stop all men from leaving the country, and to take away their arms if they persisted; while four fifths of all the grown men were drafted, and were bidden to gather instantly for a campaign.

    His Campaign against Piqua.

He appointed the mouth of the Licking as the place of meeting.  Thither he brought the troops from the Falls in light skiffs he had built for the purpose, leaving behind scarce a handful of men to garrison the stockade.  Logan went with him as second in command.  He carried with him a light three-pounder gun; and those of the men who had horses marched along the bank beside the flotilla.  The only mishap that befell the troops happened to McGarry, who had a subordinate command.  He showed his usual foolhardy obstinacy by persisting in landing with a small squad of men on the north bank of the river, where he was in consequence surprised and roughly handled by a few Indians.  Nothing was done to him because of his disobedience, for the chief of such a backwoods levy was the leader, rather than the commander, of his men.

At the mouth of the Licking Clark met the riflemen from the interior stations, among them being Kenton, Harrod, and Floyd, and others of equal note.  They had turned out almost to a man, leaving the women and boys to guard the wooden forts until they came back, and had come to the appointed place, some on foot or on horseback, others floating and paddling down the Licking in canoes.  They left scanty provisions with their families, who had to subsist during their absence on what game the boys shot, on nettle tops, and a few early vegetables; and they took with them still less.  Dividing up their stock, each man had a couple of pounds of meal and some jerked venison or buffalo meat.

All his troops having gathered, to the number of nine hundred and seventy, Clark started up the Ohio on the second of August. The skiffs, laden with men, were poled against the current, while bodies of footmen and horsemen marched along the bank.  After going a short distance up stream the horses and men were ferried to the farther bank, the boats were drawn up on the shore and left, with a guard of forty men, and the rest of the troops started overland against the town of Old Chillicothe, fifty or sixty miles distant.  The three-pounder was carried along on a pack-horse.  The march was hard, for it rained so incessantly that it was difficult to keep the rifles dry.  Every night they encamped in a hollow square, with the baggage and horses in the middle.

Chillicothe, when reached, was found to be deserted.  It was burned, and the army pushed on to Piqua, a town a few miles distant, on the banks of the Little Miami, reaching it about ten in the morning of the 8th of August. Piqua was substantially built, and was laid out in the manner of the French villages.  The stoutly built log-houses stood far apart, surrounded by strips of corn-land, and fronting the stream; while a strong block-house with loop-holed walls stood in the middle.  Thick woods, broken by small prairies, covered the rolling country that lay around the town.

    The Fight at Piqua.

Clark divided his army into four divisions, taking the command of two in person.  Giving the others to Logan, he ordered him to cross the river above the town and take it in the rear, while he himself crossed directly below it and assailed it in front.  Logan did his best to obey the orders, but he could not find a ford, and he marched by degrees nearly three miles up stream, making repeated and vain attempts to cross; when he finally succeeded the day was almost done, and the fighting was over.

Meanwhile Clark plunged into the river, and crossed at the head of one of his own two divisions; the other was delayed for a short time.  Both Simon Girty and his brother were in the town, together with several hundred Indian warriors; exactly how many cannot be said, but they were certainly fewer in number than the troops composing either wing of Clark’s army. would have given [Clark’s men] a total rout.”  A very common feat of the small frontier historian was to put high praise of his own side in the mouth of a foe.  Withers, in his “Chronicles of Border Warfare,” in speaking of this very action, makes Girty withdraw his three hundred warriors on account of the valor of Clark’s men, remarking that it was “useless to fight with fools or madmen.”  This offers a comical contrast to Girty’s real opinion, as shown in McKee’s letter.] They were surprised by Clark’s swift advance just as a scouting party of warriors, who had been sent out to watch the whites, were returning to the village.  The warning was so short that the squaws and children had barely time to retreat out of the way.  As Clark crossed the stream, the warriors left their cabins and formed in some thick timber behind them.  At the same moment a cousin of Clark’s, who had been captured by the Indians, and was held prisoner in the town, made his escape and ran towards the Americans, throwing up his hands, and calling out that he was a white man.  He was shot, whether by the Americans or the Indians none could say.  Clark came up and spoke a few words with him before he died. A long-range skirmish ensued with the warriors in the timber; but on the approach of Clark’s second division the Indians fell back.  The two divisions followed in pursuit, becoming mingled in disorder.  After a slight running fight of two hours the whites lost sight of their foes, and, wondering what had become of Logan’s wing, they gathered together and marched back towards the river.  One of the McAfees, captain over a company of riflemen from Salt River, was leading, when he discovered an Indian in a tree-top.  He and one of his men sought shelter behind the same tree; whereupon he tried to glide behind another, but was shot and mortally wounded by the Indian, who was himself instantly killed.  The scattered detachments now sat down to listen for the missing wing.  After half an hour’s silent waiting, they suddenly became aware of the presence of a body of Indians, who had slipped in between them and the town.  The backwoodsmen rushed up to the attack, while the Indians whooped and yelled defiance.  There was a moment’s heavy firing; but as on both sides the combatants carefully sheltered themselves behind trees, there was very little loss; and the Indians steadily gave way until they reached the town, about two miles distant from the spot where the whites had halted.  They then made a stand, and, for the first time, there occurred some real fighting.  The Indians stood stoutly behind the loop-holed walls of the cabins, and in the block-house; the Americans, advancing cautiously and gaining ground inch by inch, suffered much more loss than they inflicted.  Late in the afternoon Clark managed to bring the three-pounder into action, from a point below the town; while the riflemen fired at the red warriors as they were occasionally seen running from the cabins to take refuge behind the steep bank of the river.  A few shots from the three-pounder dislodged the defenders of the block-house; and about sunset the Americans closed in, but only to find that their foes had escaped under cover of a noisy fire from a few of the hindmost warriors.  They had run up stream, behind the banks, until they came to a small “branch” or brook, by means of which they gained the shelter of the forest, where they at once scattered and disappeared.  A few of their stragglers exchanged shots with the advance guard of Logan’s wing as it at last came down the bank; this was the only part Logan was able to take in the battle.  Of the Indians six or eight were slain, whereas the whites lost seventeen killed, and a large number wounded. [Footnote:  Bradford MS.; the McAfee MSS. make the loss “15 or 20 Indians” in the last assault, and “nearly as many” whites.  Boon’s narrative says seventeen on each side.  But McKee says only six Indians were killed and three wounded; and Bombardier Homan, in the letter already quoted, says six were killed and two captured, who were afterwards slain.  The latter adds from hearsay that the Americans cruelly slew an Indian woman; but there is not a syllable in any of the other accounts to confirm this, and it may be set down as a fiction of the by-no-means-valorous bombardier.  The bombardier mentions that the Indians in their alarm and anger immediately burnt all the male prisoners in their villages.

The Kentucky historians give very scanty accounts of this expedition; but as it was of a typical character it is worth while giving in full.  The McAfee MSS. contain most information about it.] Clark destroyed all the houses and a very large quantity of corn; and he sent out detachments which destroyed another village, and the stores of some British and French Canadian traders.  Then the army marched back to the mouth of the Licking and disbanded, most of the volunteers having been out just twenty-five days.

    Effect of the Victory.

The Indians were temporarily cowed by their loss and the damage they had suffered, and especially by the moral effect of so formidable a retaliatory foray following immediately on the heels of Bird’s inroad.  Therefore, thanks to Clark, the settlements south of the Ohio were but little molested for the remainder of the year. The bulk of the savages remained north of the river, hovering about their burned towns, planning to take vengeance in the spring.

Nevertheless small straggling bands of young braves occasionally came down through the woods; and though they did not attack any fort or any large body of men, they were ever on the watch to steal horses, burn lonely cabins, and waylay travellers between the stations.  They shot the solitary settlers who had gone out to till their clearings by stealth, or ambushed the boys who were driving in the milk cows or visiting their lines of traps.  It was well for the victim if he was killed at once; otherwise he was bound with hickory withes and driven to the distant Indian towns, there to be tortured with hideous cruelty and burned to death at the stake. Boon himself suffered at the hands of one of these parties.  He had gone with his brother to the Blue Licks, to him a spot always fruitful of evil; and being ambushed by the Indians, his brother was killed, and he himself was only saved by his woodcraft and speed of foot.  The Indians had with them a tracking dog, by the aid of which they followed his trail for three miles; until he halted, shot the dog, and thus escaped.

    Life of the Settlers.

During this comparatively peaceful fall the settlers fared well; though the men were ever on the watch for Indian war parties, while the mothers, if their children were naughty, frightened them into quiet with the threat that the Shawnees would catch them.  The widows and the fatherless were cared for by the other families of the different stations.  The season of want and scarcity had passed for ever; from thenceforth on there was abundance in Kentucky.  The crops did not fail; not only was there plenty of corn, the one essential, but there was also wheat, as well as potatoes, melons, pumpkins, turnips, and the like.  Sugar was made by tapping the maple trees; but salt was bought at a very exorbitant price at the Falls, being carried down in boats from the old Redstone Fort.  Flax had been generally sown (though in the poorer settlements nettle bark still served as a substitute), and the young men and girls formed parties to pick it, often ending their labor by an hour or two’s search for wild plums.  The men killed all the game they wished, and so there was no lack of meat.  They also surveyed the land and tended the stock ­cattle, horses, and hogs, which throve and multiplied out on the range, fattening on the cane, and large white buffalo-clover.  At odd times the men and boys visited their lines of traps.  Furs formed almost the only currency, except a little paper money; but as there were no stores west of the mountains, this was all that was needed, and each settlement raised most things for itself, and procured the rest by barter.

The law courts were as yet very little troubled, each small community usually enforcing a rough-and-ready justice of its own.  On a few of the streams log-dams were built, and tub-mills started.  In Harrodsburg a toll mill was built in 1779.  The owner used to start it grinding, and then go about his other business; once on returning he found a large wild turkey-gobbler so busily breakfasting out of the hopper that he was able to creep quietly up and catch him with his hands.  The people all worked together in cultivating their respective lands; coming back to the fort before dusk for supper.  They would then call on any man who owned a fiddle and spend the evening, with interludes of singing and story-telling, in dancing ­an amusement they considered as only below hunting.  On Sundays the stricter parents taught their children the catechism; but in spite of the presence of not a few devout Baptists and Presbyterians there was little chance for general observance of religious forms.  Ordinary conversation was limited to such subjects as bore on the day’s doings; the game that had been killed, the condition of the crops, the plans of the settlers for the immediate future, the accounts of the last massacre by the savages, or the rumor that Indian sign had been seen in the neighborhood; all interspersed with much banter, practical joking, and rough, good-humored fun.  The scope of conversation was of necessity narrowly limited even for the backwoods; for there was little chance to discuss religion and politics, the two subjects that the average backwoodsman regards as the staples of deep conversation.  The deeds of the Indians of course formed the one absorbing topic.

    An Abortive Separatist Movement.

An abortive separatist movement was the chief political sensation of this summer.  Many hundreds and even thousand of settlers from the backwoods districts of various States, had come to Kentucky, and some even to Illinois, and a number of them were greatly discontented with the Virginian rule.  They deemed it too difficult to get justice when they were so far from the seat of government; they objected to the land being granted to any but actual settlers; and they protested against being taxed, asserting that they did not know whether the country really belonged to Virginia or the United States.  Accordingly, they petitioned the Continental Congress that Kentucky and Illinois combined might be made into a separate State; but no heed was paid to their request, nor did their leading men join in making it.

    Kentucky Divided into Counties.

In November the Virginia Legislature divided Kentucky into the three counties of Jefferson, Lincoln, and Fayette, appointing for each a colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, and a surveyor.  The three colonels, who were also justices of the counties, were, in their order, John Floyd ­whom Clark described as “a soldier, a gentleman and a scholar,” ­Benjamin Logan, and John Todd.  Clark, whose station was at the Falls of the Ohio, was brigadier-general and commander over all.  Boon was lieutenant-colonel under Todd; and their county of Fayette had for its surveyor Thomas Marshall, the father of the great chief-justice, whose services to the United States stand on a plane with those of Alexander Hamilton.

    Clark’s Plans to Attack Detroit.

The winter passed quietly away, but as soon as the snow was off the ground in 1781, the Indians renewed their ravages.  Early in the winter Clark went to Virginia to try to get an army for an expedition against Detroit.  He likewise applied to Washington for assistance.  Washington fully entered into his plans, and saw their importance.  He would gladly have rendered him every aid.  But he could do nothing, because of the impotence to which the central authority, the Continental Congress, had been reduced by the selfishness and supine indifference of the various States ­Virginia among the number.  He wrote Clark:  “It is out of my power to send any reinforcements to the westward.  If the States would fill their continental battalions we should be able to oppose a regular and permanent force to the enemy in every quarter.  If they will not, they must certainly take measures to defend themselves by their militia, however expensive and ruinous the system.” It was impossible to state with more straightforward clearness the fact that Kentucky owed the unprotected condition in which she was left, to the divided or States-rights system of government that then existed; and that she would have had ample protection ­and incidentally greater liberty ­had the central authority been stronger.

    Why his Efforts were Baffled.

At last, Clark was empowered to raise the men he wished, and he passed and repassed from Fort Pitt to the Falls of the Ohio and thence to the Illinois in the vain effort to get troops.  The inertness and shortsightedness of the frontiersmen, above all the exhaustion of the States, and their timid selfishness and inability to enforce their commands, baffled all of Clark’s efforts.  In his letters to Washington he bitterly laments his enforced dependence upon “persuasive arguments to draw the inhabitants of the country into the field.” The Kentuckians were anxious to do all in their power, but of course only a comparatively small number could be spared for so long a campaign from their scattered stockades.  Around Pittsburg, where he hoped to raise the bulk of his forces, the frontiersmen were split into little factions by their petty local rivalries, the envy their leaders felt of Clark himself, and the never-ending jealousies and bickerings between the Virginians and Pennsylvanians.

The fort at the Falls, where Clark already had some troops, was appointed as a gathering-place for the different detachments that were to join him; but from one cause or another, all save one or two failed to appear.  Most of them did not even start, and one body of Pennsylvanians that did go met with an untoward fate.  This was a party of a hundred Westmoreland men under their county-lieutenant, Col.  Archibald Loughry.  They started down the Ohio in flat-boats, but having landed on a sand bar to butcher and cook a buffalo that they had killed, they were surprised by an equal number of Indians under Joseph Brant, and being huddled together, were all slain or captured with small loss to their assailants. Many of the prisoners, including Loughry himself, were afterwards murdered in cold blood by the Indians.

    Fighting on the Frontier.

During this year the Indians continually harassed the whole frontier, from Pennsylvania to Kentucky, ravaging the settlements and assailing the forts in great bands of five or six hundred warriors. The Continental troops stationed at Fort Pitt were reduced to try every expedient to procure supplies.  Though it was evident that the numbers of the hostile Indians had largely increased and that even such tribes as the Delawares, who had been divided, were now united against the Americans, nevertheless, because of the scarcity of food, a party of soldiers had to be sent into the Indian country to kill buffalo, that the garrison might have meat. The Indians threatened to attack the fort itself, as well as the villages it protected; passing around and on each side, their war parties ravaged the country in its rear, distressing greatly the people; and from this time until peace was declared with Great Britain, and indeed until long after that event, the westernmost Pennsylvanians knew neither rest nor safety. Among many others the forted village at Wheeling was again attacked.  But its most noteworthy siege occurred during the succeeding summer, when Simon Girty, with fife and drum, led a large band of Indians and Detroit rangers against it, only to be beaten off.  The siege was rendered memorable by the heroism of a girl, who carried powder from the stockade to an outlying log-house, defended by four men; she escaped unscathed because of her very boldness, in spite of the fire from so many rifles, and to this day the mountaineers speak of her deed.

It would be tiresome and profitless to so much as name the many different stations that were attacked.  In their main incidents all the various assaults were alike, and that made this summer on McAfee’s station may be taken as an illustration.

    The Attack on McAfee’s Station.

The McAfees brought their wives and children to Kentucky in the fall of ’79, and built a little stockaded hamlet on the banks of Salt River, six or seven miles from Harrodsburg.  Some relatives and friends joined them, but their station was small and weak.  The stockade, on the south side, was very feeble, and there were but thirteen men, besides the women and children, in garrison; but they were strong and active, good woodsmen, and excellent marksmen.  The attack was made on May 4, 1781.

The Indians lay all night at a corn-crib three-quarters of a mile distant from the stockade.  The settlers, though one of their number had been carried off two months before, still continued their usual occupations.  But they were very watchful and always kept a sharp look-out, driving the stock inside the yard at night.  On the day in question, at dawn, it was noticed that the dogs and cattle betrayed symptoms of uneasiness; for all tame animals dreaded the sight or smell of an Indian as they did that of a wild beast, and by their alarm often warned the settlers and thus saved their lives.

In this case the warning was unheeded.  At daybreak the stock were turned loose and four of the men went outside the fort.  Two began to clear a patch of turnip-land about a hundred and fifty yards off, leaving their guns against a tree close at hand.  The other two started towards the corn-crib, with a horse and bag.  After going a quarter of a mile, the path dipped into a hollow, and here they suddenly came on the Indians, advancing stealthily toward the fort.  At the first fire one of the men was killed, and the horse, breaking loose, galloped back to the fort.  The other man likewise turned and ran towards home, but was confronted by an Indian who leaped into the path directly ahead of him.  The two were so close together that the muzzles of their guns crossed, and both pulled trigger at once; the Indian’s gun missed fire and he fell dead in his tracks.  Continuing his flight, the survivor reached the fort in safety.

When the two men in the turnip-patch heard the firing they seized their guns and ran towards the point of attack, but seeing the number of the assailants they turned back to the fort, trying to drive the frightened stock before them.  The Indians coming up close, they had to abandon the attempt, although most of the horses and some of the cattle got safely home.  One of the men reached the gate ahead of the Indians; the other was cut off, and took a roundabout route through the woods.  He speedily distanced all of his pursuers but one; several times he turned to shoot the latter, but the Indian always took prompt refuge behind a tree, and the white man then renewed his flight.  At last he reach a fenced orchard, on the border of the cleared ground round the fort.  Throwing himself over the fence he lay still among the weeds on the other side.  In a minute or two the pursuer, running up, cautiously peered over the fence, and was instantly killed; he proved to be a Shawnee chief, painted, and decked with many silver armlets, rings, and brooches.  The fugitive then succeeded in making his way into the fort.

The settlers inside the stockade had sprung to arms the moment the first guns were heard.  The men fired on the advancing Indians, while the women and children ran bullets and made ready the rifle-patches.  Every one displayed the coolest determination and courage except one man who hid under a bed, until found by his wife; whereupon he was ignominiously dragged out and made to run bullets with the women.

As the Indians advanced they shot down most of the cattle and hogs and some of the horses that were running frantically round the stockade; and they likewise shot several dogs that had sallied out to help their masters.  They then made a rush on the fort, but were driven off at once, one of their number being killed and several badly hurt, while but one of the defenders was wounded, and he but slightly.  After this they withdrew to cover and began a desultory firing, which lasted for some time.

Suddenly a noise like distant thunder came to the ears of the men in the fort.  It was the beat of horsehoofs.  In a minute or two forty-five horsemen, headed by McGarry, appeared on the road leading from Harrodsburg, shouting and brandishing their rifles as they galloped up.  The morning was so still that the firing had been heard a very long way; and a band of mounted riflemen had gathered in hot haste to go to the relief of the beleaguered stockade.

The Indians, whooping defiance, retired; while McGarry halted a moment to allow the rescued settlers to bridle their horses ­saddles were not thought of.  The pursuit was then begun at full speed.  At the ford of a small creek near by, the rearmost Indians turned and fired at the horsemen, killing one and wounding another, while a third had his horse mired down, and was left behind.  The main body was overtaken at the corn-crib, and a running fight followed; the whites leaving their horses and both sides taking shelter behind the tree-trunks.  Soon two Indians were killed, and the others scattered in every direction, while the victors returned in triumph to the station.

    Slight Losses of the Indians.

It is worthy of notice that though the Indians were defeated, and though they were pitted against first-class rifle shots, they yet had but five men killed and a very few wounded.  They rarely suffered a heavy loss in battle with the whites, even when beaten in the open or repulsed from a fort.  They would not stand heavy punishment, and in attacking a fort generally relied upon a single headlong rush, made under cover of darkness or as a surprise; they tried to unnerve their antagonists by the sudden fury of their onslaught and the deafening accompaniment of whoops and yells.  If they began to suffer much loss they gave up at once, and if pursued scattered in every direction, each man for himself, and owing to their endurance, woodcraft, and skill in hiding, usually got off with marvellously little damage.  At the outside a dozen of their men might be killed in the pursuit by such of the vengeful backwoodsmen as were exceptionally fleet of foot.  The northwestern tribes at this time appreciated thoroughly that their marvellous fighting qualities were shown to best advantage in the woods, and neither in the defence nor in the assault of fortified places.  They never cooped themselves in stockades to receive an attack from the whites, as was done by the Massachusetts Algonquins in the seventeenth century, and by the Creeks at the beginning of the nineteenth; and it was only when behind defensive works from which they could not retreat that the forest Indians ever suffered heavily when defeated by the whites.  On the other hand, the defeat of the average white force was usually followed by a merciless slaughter.  Skilled backwoodsmen scattered out, Indian fashion, but their less skilful or more panic-struck brethren, and all regulars or ordinary militia, kept together from a kind of blind feeling of safety in companionship, and in consequence their nimble and ruthless antagonists destroyed them at their ease.

    Indian War Parties Repulsed.

Still, the Indian war parties were often checked, or scattered; and occasionally one of them received some signal discomfiture.  Such was the case with a band that went up the Kanawha valley just as Clark was descending the Ohio on his way to the Illinois.  Finding the fort at the mouth of the Kanawha too strong to be carried, they moved on up the river towards the Greenbriar settlements, their chiefs shouting threateningly to the people in the fort, and taunting them with the impending destruction of their friends and kindred.  But two young men in the stockade forthwith dressed and painted themselves like Indians, that they might escape notice even if seen, and speeding through the woods reached the settlements first and gave warning.  The settlers took refuge on a farm where there was a block-house with a stockaded yard.  The Indians attacked in a body at daybreak when the door was opened, thinking to rush into the house; but they were beaten off, and paid dear for their boldness, for seventeen of them were left dead in the yard, besides the killed and wounded whom they carried away. In the same year a block-house was attacked while the children were playing outside.  The Indians in their sudden rush killed one settler, wounded four, and actually got inside the house; yet three were killed or disabled, and they were driven out by the despairing fury of the remaining whites, the women fighting together with the men.  Then the savages instantly fled, but they had killed and scalped, or carried off, ten of the children.  Be it remembered that these instances are taken at random from among hundreds of others, extending over a series of years longer than the average life of a generation.

The Indians warred with the odds immeasurably in their favor.  The Ohio was the boundary between their remaining hunting-grounds and the lands where the whites had settled.  In Kentucky alone this frontier was already seventy miles in length. Beyond the river stretched the frowning forest, to the Indians a sure shield in battle, a secure haven in disaster, an impenetrable mask from behind which to plan attack.

    Nature of the Indian Forays.

Clark, from his post at the Falls, sent out spies and scouts along the banks of the river, and patrolled its waters with his gun-boat; but it was absolutely impossible to stop all the forays or to tell the point likely to be next struck.  A war party starting from the wigwam-towns would move silently down through the woods, cross the Ohio at any point, and stealthily and rapidly traverse the settlements, its presence undiscovered until the deeds of murder and rapine were done, and its track marked by charred cabins and the ghastly, mutilated bodies of men, women, and children.

If themselves assailed, the warriors fought desperately and effectively.  They sometimes attacked bodies of troops, but always by ambush or surprise; and they much preferred to pounce on unprepared and unsuspecting surveyors, farmers, or wayfarers, or to creep up to solitary, outlying cabins.  They valued the scalps of women and children as highly as those of men.  Striking a sudden blow, where there was hardly any possibility of loss to themselves, they instantly moved on to the next settlement, repeating the process again and again.  Tireless, watchful, cautious, and rapid, they covered great distances, and their stealth and the mystery of their coming and going added to the terror produced by the horrible nature of their ravages.  When pursued they dextrously covered their trail, and started homewards across a hundred leagues of trackless wilderness.  The pursuers almost of necessity went slower, for they had to puzzle out the tracks; and after a certain number of days either their food gave out or they found themselves too far from home, and were obliged to return.  In most instances the pursuit was vain.  Thus a party of twenty savages might make a war-trail some hundreds of miles in length, taking forty or fifty scalps, carrying off a dozen women and children, and throwing a number of settlements, with perhaps a total population of a thousand souls, into a rage of terror and fury, with a loss to themselves of but one or two men killed and wounded.

    A Great War Band Threatens Kentucky

Throughout the summer of 1781 the settlers were scourged by an unbroken series of raids of this kind.  In August McKee, Brant, and other tory and Indian leaders assembled on the Miami an army of perhaps a thousand warriors.  They were collected to oppose Clark’s intended march to Detroit; for the British leaders were well aware of Clark’s intention, and trusted to the savages to frustrate it if he attempted to put it into execution.  Brant went off for a scout with a hundred warriors, and destroyed Loughry’s party of Westmoreland men, as already related, returning to the main body after having done so.  The fickle savages were much elated by this stroke, but instead of being inspired to greater efforts, took the view that the danger of invasion was now over.  After much persuasion Brant, McKee, and the captain of the Detroit rangers, Thompson, persuaded them to march towards the Falls.  On September 9th they were within thirty miles of their destination, and halted to send out scouts.  Two prisoners were captured, from whom it was learned that Clark had abandoned his proposed expedition. Instantly the Indians began to disband, some returning to their homes, and others scattering out to steal horses and burn isolated cabins.  Nor could the utmost efforts of their leaders keep them together.  They had no wish to fight Clark unless it was absolutely necessary, in order to save their villages and crops from destruction; and they much preferred plundering on their own account.  However, a couple of hundred Hurons and Miamis, under Brant and McKee, were kept together, and moved southwards between the Kentucky and Salt rivers, intending “to attack some of the small forts and infest the roads.” About the middle of the month they fell in with a party of settlers led by Squire Boon.

    Squire Boon and Floyd Defeated.

Squire Boon had built a fort, some distance from any other, and when rumors of a great Indian invasion reached him, he determined to leave it and join the stations on Bear Grass Creek.  When he reached Long Run, with his men, women, and children, cattle, and household goods, he stumbled against the two hundred warriors of McKee and Brant.  His people were scattered to the four winds, with the loss of many scalps and all their goods and cattle.  The victors camped on the ground with the intention of ambushing any party that arrived to bury the dead; for they were confident some of the settlers would come for this purpose.  Nor were they disappointed; for next morning Floyd, the county lieutenant, with twenty-five men, made his appearance.  Floyd marched so quickly that he came on the Indians before they were prepared to receive him.  A smart skirmish ensued; but the whites were hopelessly outnumbered, and were soon beaten and scattered, with a loss of twelve or thirteen men.  Floyd himself, exhausted and with his horse shot, would have been captured had not another man, one Samuel Wells, who was excellently mounted, seen his plight.  Wells reined in, leaped off his horse, and making Floyd ride, he ran beside him, and both escaped.  The deed was doubly noble, because the men had previously been enemies. The frontiersmen had made a good defence in spite of the tremendous odds against them, and had slain four of their opponents, three Hurons and a Miami. Among the former was the head chief, a famous warrior; his death so discouraged the Indians that they straightway returned home with their scalps and plunder, resisting McKee’s entreaty that they would first attack Boonsborough.

One war party carried off Logan’s family; but Logan, following swiftly after, came on the savages so suddenly that he killed several of their number, and rescued all his own people unhurt.

    Complicity of the British.

Often French Canadians, and more rarely tories, accompanied these little bands of murderous plunderers ­besides the companies of Detroit rangers who went with the large war parties ­and they were all armed and urged on by the British at Detroit.  One of the official British reports to Lord George Germaine, made on October 23d of this year, deals with the Indian war parties employed against the northwestern frontier.  “Many smaller Indian parties have been very successful....  It would be endless and difficult to enumerate to your Lordship the parties that are continually employed upon the back settlements.  From the Illinois country to the frontiers of New York there is a continual succession... the perpetual terror and losses of the inhabitants will I hope operate powerfully in our favor”; ­so runs the letter.  At the same time the British commander in Canada was pointing out to his subordinate at Detroit that the real danger to British rule arose from the extension of the settlements westwards, and that this the Indians could prevent; in other words, the savages were expressly directed to make war on non-combatants, for it was impossible to attack a settlement without attacking the women and children therein.  In return the frontiersmen speedily grew to regard both British and Indians with the same venomous and indiscriminate anger.

    Nature of the Ceaseless Strife

In the writings of the early annalists of these Indian wars are to be found the records of countless deeds of individual valor and cowardice, prowess and suffering, of terrible woe in time of disaster and defeat, and of the glutting of ferocious vengeance in the days of triumphant reprisal.  They contain tales of the most heroic courage and of the vilest poltroonery; for the iron times brought out all that was best and all that was basest in the human breast.  We read of husbands leaving their wives, and women their children, to the most dreadful of fates, on the chance that they themselves might thereby escape; and on the other hand, we read again and again of the noblest acts of self-sacrifice, where the man freely gave his life for that of his wife or child, his brother or his friend.  Many deeds of unflinching loyalty are recorded, but very, very few where magnanimity was shown to a fallen foe.  The women shared the stern qualities of the men; often it happened that, when the house-owner had been shot down, his wife made good the defence of the cabin with rifle or with axe, hewing valiantly at the savages who tried to break through the door, or dig under the puncheon floor, or, perhaps, burst down through the roof or wide chimney.  Many hundreds of these tales could be gathered together; one or two are worth giving, not as being unique, but rather as samples of innumerable others of the same kind.

    Feat of the Two Poes.

In those days there lived beside the Ohio, in extreme northwestern Virginia, two tall brothers, famed for their strength, agility, and courage.  They were named Adam and Andrew Poe.  In the summer of ’81 a party of seven Wyandots or Hurons came into their settlement, burned some cabins, and killed one of the settlers.  Immediately eight backwoodsmen started in chase of the marauders; among them were the two Poes.

The Wyandots were the bravest of all the Indian tribes, the most dangerous in battle, and the most merciful in victory, rarely torturing their prisoners; the backwoodsmen respected them for their prowess more than they did any other tribe, and, if captured, esteemed themselves fortunate to fall into Wyandot hands.  These seven warriors were the most famous and dreaded of the whole tribe.  They included four brothers, one being the chief Bigfoot, who was of gigantic strength and stature, the champion of all, their most fearless and redoubtable fighter.  Yet their very confidence ruined them, for they retreated in a leisurely manner, caring little whether they were overtaken or not, as they had many times worsted the whites, and did not deem them their equals in battle.

The backwoodsmen followed the trail swiftly all day long, and, by the help of the moon, late into the night.  Early next morning they again started and found themselves so near the Wyandots that Andrew Poe turned aside and went down to the bed of a neighboring stream, thinking to come up behind the Indians while they were menaced by his comrades in front.  Hearing a low murmur, he crept up through the bushes to a jutting rock on the brink of the watercourse, and peering cautiously over, he saw two Indians beneath him.  They were sitting under a willow, talking in deep whispers; one was an ordinary warrior, the other, by his gigantic size, was evidently the famous chief himself.  Andrew took steady aim at the big chiefs breast and pulled trigger.  The rifle flashed in the pan; and the two Indians sprang to their feet with a deep grunt of surprise.  For a second all three stared at one another.  Then Andrew sprang over the rock, striking the big Indian’s breast with a shock that bore him to the earth; while at the moment of alighting, he threw his arm round the small Indian’s neck, and all three rolled on the ground together.

At this instant they heard sharp firing in the woods above them.  The rest of the whites and Indians had discovered one another at the same time.  A furious but momentary fight ensued; three backwoodsmen and four Indians were killed outright, no other white being hurt, while the single remaining red warrior made his escape, though badly wounded.  But the three men who were struggling for life and death in the ravine had no time to pay heed to outside matters.  For a moment Andrew kept down both his antagonists, who were stunned by the shock; but before he could use his knife the big Indian wrapped him in his arms and held him as if in a vise.  This enabled the small Indian to wrest himself loose, when the big chief ordered him to run for his tomahawk, which lay on the sand ten feet away, and to kill the white man as he lay powerless in the chiefs arms.  Andrew could not break loose, but watching his chance, as the small Indian came up, he kicked him so violently in the chest that he knocked the tomahawk out of his hand and sent him staggering into the water.  Thereat the big chief grunted out his contempt, and thundered at the small Indian a few words that Andrew could not understand.  The small Indian again approached and after making several feints, struck with the tomahawk, but Andrew dodged and received the blow on his wrist instead of his head; and the wound though deep was not disabling.  By a sudden and mighty effort he now shook himself free from the giant, and snatching up a loaded rifle from the sand, shot the small Indian as he rushed on him.  But at that moment the larger Indian, rising up, seized him and hurled him to the ground.  He was on his feet in a second, and the two grappled furiously, their knives being lost; Andrew’s activity and skill as a wrestler and boxer making amends for his lack of strength.  Locked in each other’s arms they rolled into the water.  Here each tried to drown the other, and Andrew catching the chief by the scalp lock held his head under the water until his faint struggles ceased.  Thinking his foe dead, he loosed his grip to try to get at his knife, but, as Andrew afterwards said, the Indian had only been “playing possum,” and in a second the struggle was renewed.  Both combatants rolled into deep water, when they separated and struck out for the shore.  The Indian proved the best swimmer, and ran up to the rifle that lay on the sand, whereupon Andrew turned to swim out into the stream, hoping to save his life by diving.  At this moment his brother Adam appeared on the bank, and seeing Andrew covered with blood and swimming rapidly away, mistook him for an Indian, and shot him in the shoulder.  Immediately afterwards he saw his real antagonist.  Both had empty guns, and the contest became one as to who could beat the other in loading, the Indian exclaiming:  “Who load first, shoot first!” The chief got his powder down first, but, in hurriedly drawing out his ramrod, it slipped through his fingers and fell in the river.  Seeing that it was all over, he instantly faced his foe, pulled open the bosom of his shirt, and the next moment received the ball fair in his breast.  Adam, alarmed for his brother, who by this time could barely keep himself afloat, rushed into the river to save him, not heeding Andrew’s repeated cries to take the big Indian’s scalp.  Meanwhile the dying chief, resolute to save the long locks his enemies coveted ­always a point of honor among the red men, ­painfully rolled himself into the stream.  Before he died he reached the deep water, and the swift current bore his body away.

    Other Feats of Personal Prowess

About this time a hunter named McConnell was captured near Lexington by five Indians.  At night he wriggled out of his bonds and slew four of his sleeping captors, while the fifth, who escaped, was so bewildered that, on reaching the Indian town, he reported that his party had been attacked at night by a number of whites, who had not only killed his companions but the prisoner likewise.

A still more remarkable event had occurred a couple of summers previously.  Some keel boats, manned by a hundred men under Lieutenant Rogers, and carrying arms and provisions procured from the Spaniards at New Orleans, were set upon by an Indian war party under Girty and Elliott, while drawn up on a sand beach of the Ohio.  The boats were captured and plundered, and most of the men were killed; several escaped, two under very extraordinary circumstances.  One had both his arms, the other both his legs, broken.  They lay hid till the Indians disappeared, and then accidentally discovered each other.  For weeks the two crippled beings lived in the lonely spot where the battle had been fought, unable to leave it, each supplementing what the other could do.  The man who could walk kicked wood to him who could not, that he might make a fire, and making long circuits, chased the game towards him for him to shoot it.  At last they were taken off by a passing flat-boat.

The backwoodsmen, wonted to vigorous athletic pastimes, and to fierce brawls among themselves, were generally overmatches for the Indians in hand-to-hand struggles.  One such fight, that took place some years before this time, deserves mention.  A man of herculean strength and of fierce, bold nature, named Bingaman, lived on the frontier in a lonely log-house.  The cabin had but a single room below, in which Bingaman slept, as well as his mother, wife, and child; a hired man slept in the loft.  One night eight Indians assailed the house.  As they burst in the door Bingaman thrust the women and the child under the bed, his wife being wounded by a shot in the breast.  Then having discharged his piece he began to beat about at random with the long heavy rifle.  The door swung partially to, and in the darkness nothing could be seen.  The numbers of the Indians helped them but little, for Bingaman’s tremendous strength enabled him to shake himself free whenever grappled.  One after another his foes sank under his crushing blows, killed or crippled; it is said that at last but one was left to flee from the house in terror.  The hired man had not dared to come down from the loft, and when Bingaman found his wife wounded he became so enraged that it was with difficulty he could be kept from killing him.

Incidents such as these followed one another in quick succession.  They deserve notice less for their own sakes than as examples of the way the West was won; for the land was really conquered not so much by the actual shock of battle between bodies of soldiers, as by the continuous westward movement of the armed settlers and the unceasing individual warfare waged between them and their red foes.

For the same reason one or two of the more noted hunters and Indian scouts deserve mention, as types of hundreds of their fellows, who spent their lives and met their deaths in the forest.  It was their warfare that really did most to diminish the fighting force of the tribes.  They battled exactly as their foes did, making forays, alone or in small parties, for scalps and horses, and in their skirmishes inflicted as much loss as they received; in striking contrast to what occurred in conflicts between the savages and regular troops.

    The Hunter Wetzel.

One of the most formidable of these hunters was Lewis Wetzel. Boon, Kenton, and Harrod illustrate by their lives the nobler, kindlier traits of the dauntless border-folk; Wetzel, like McGarry, shows the dark side of the picture.  He was a good friend to his white neighbors, or at least to such of them as he liked, and as a hunter and fighter there was not in all the land his superior.  But he was of brutal and violent temper, and for the Indians he knew no pity and felt no generosity.  They had killed many of his friends and relations, among others his father; and he hunted them in peace or war like wolves.  His admirers denied that he ever showed “unwonted cruelty” to Indian women and children; that he sometimes killed them cannot be gainsaid.  Some of his feats were cold-blooded murders, as when he killed an Indian who came in to treat with General Harmar, under pledge of safe conduct; one of his brothers slew in like fashion a chief who came to see Col.  Brodhead.  But the frontiersmen loved him, for his mere presence was a protection, so great was the terror he inspired among the red men.  His hardihood and address were only equalled by his daring and courage.  He was literally a man without fear; in his few days of peace his chief amusements were wrestling, foot-racing, and shooting at a mark.  He was a dandy, too, after the fashion of the backwoods, especially proud of his mane of long hair, which, when he let it down, hung to his knees.  He often hunted alone in the Indian country, a hundred miles beyond the Ohio.  As he dared not light a bright fire on these trips, he would, on cold nights, make a small coal-pit, and cower over it, drawing his blanket over his head, when, to use his own words, he soon became as hot as in a “stove room.”  Once he surprised four Indians sleeping in their camp; falling on them he killed three.  Another time, when pursued by the same number of foes, he loaded his rifle as he ran, and killed in succession the three foremost, whereat the other fled.  In all, he took over thirty scalps of warriors, thus killing more Indians than were slain by either one of the two large armies of Braddock and St. Clair during their disastrous campaigns.  Wetzel’s frame, like his heart, was of steel.  But his temper was too sullen and unruly for him ever to submit to command or to bear rule over others.  His feats were performed when he was either alone or with two or three associates.  An army of such men would have been wholly valueless.

    Brady and his Scouts.

Another man, of a far higher type, was Captain Samuel Brady, already a noted Indian fighter on the Alleghany.  For many years after the close of the Revolutionary war he was the chief reliance of the frontiersmen of his own neighborhood.  He had lost a father and a brother by the Indians; and in return he followed the red men with relentless hatred.  But he never killed peaceful Indians nor those who came in under flags of truce.  The tale of his wanderings, his captivities, his hairbreadth escapes, and deeds of individual prowess would fill a book.  He frequently went on scouts alone, either to procure information or to get scalps.  On these trips he was not only often reduced to the last extremity by hunger, fatigue, and exposure, but was in hourly peril of his life from the Indians he was hunting.  Once he was captured; but when about to be bound to the stake for burning, he suddenly flung an Indian boy into the fire, and in the confusion burst through the warriors, and actually made his escape, though the whole pack of yelling savages followed at his heels with rifle and tomahawk.  He raised a small company of scouts or rangers, and was one of the very few captains able to reduce the unruly frontiersmen to order.  In consequence his company on several occasions fairly whipped superior numbers of Indians in the woods; a feat that no regulars could perform, and to which the backwoodsmen themselves were generally unequal, even though an overmatch for their foes singly, because of their disregard of discipline.

So, with foray and reprisal, and fierce private war, with all the border in a flame, the year 1781 came to an end.  At its close there were in Kentucky seven hundred and sixty able-bodied militia, fit for an offensive campaign. As this did not include the troops at the Falls, nor the large shifting population, nor the “fort soldiers,” the weaker men, graybeards, and boys, who could handle a rifle behind a stockade, it is probable that there were then somewhere between four and five thousand souls in Kentucky.