CHAPTER XX
That May day ended in a lovely evening, warm enough to make outside airthe most agreeable, so directly after an early tea the Woodburn familygathered upon the veranda, where they were presently joined by theSunnyside folk, babies and all, who received the warmest of welcomes,though they had been absent from the older home but a few hours.
Naturally the first topic of conversation related to that day's visitfrom Grandma Elsie and Walter and its main object--the appeal forhelp to the good work going on among the mountaineers of Kentucky andTennessee.
"I am glad we were given the opportunity to help it," remarked thecaptain. "It has set me to thinking of the pioneers and early settlersof that section of our land. Among them Daniel Boone and Simon Kenton."
"Oh, papa, please tell us about them!" exclaimed Elsie.
"Some time, daughter," he answered pleasantly; "but the rest of thislittle company may not care to hear the old stories repeated just now."
At that there was a unanimous expression of desire to do so, and hepresently began.
"Simon Kenton's lifetime took in both our wars with England, as hewas born in 1755 and lived until April, 1836. Virginia was his nativeState, but his father was Irish and his mother Scotch. They were poor,and Simon received but little education. At the age of sixteen he hada fight with another young fellow named William Veach about a loveaffair. He thought he had killed Veach, so fled over the Alleghanies.There he called himself Simon Butler. He formed friendships withtraders and hunters, among them Simon Girty."
"Girty, that cruel, cruel wretch!" cried Elsie. "How could anybody wantto have him for a friend?"
"He was a bad, cruel man," replied her father, "but perhaps never hadany good teaching. His father had died and his mother married again,and they were all taken prisoners by the Indians and his step-fatherburned at the stake when Simon Girty was but five years old. It wasthree years before he was released, and I do not know that he ever hadany education. Many cruel deeds are told of him, but he was really agood friend to Simon Kenton, and once saved him from being burned atthe stake by the Indians.
"But to go back, Kenton was soon persuaded by a young man named Yager,who had been taken by the Western Indians when a child, and spent agood many years among them, to go with him to a land called by theIndians Kan-tuc-kee, which he described as a most delightful place.
"They two, with a third young man named Strader, set off in highspirits, expecting to find a paradise. But they wandered through thewilderness for weeks hoping to find the promised land, but withoutsuccess. Then they tried hunting and trapping for nearly two years.But being discovered by the Indians, they had to abandon those huntinggrounds and try elsewhere; but to tell of it all would make too long astory.
"In 1778 Kenton joined Daniel Boone in his expedition against theIndian town on Paint Creek. On his return from that he was sent byColonel Bowman, with two companions, to make observations upon theIndian towns on Little Miami, the colonel considering the idea of anexpedition against them. Kenton reached the spot in safety, and if hehad attended only to what he was sent to do he might have succeededwell and been very useful to the settlers in Kentucky, but beforeleaving the towns he stole a number of the Indians' horses.
"The Indians missed their horses early the next morning, found thetrail of those who had taken them, and at once pursued after them.Kenton and his companions soon heard the cries of the Indians in theirrear and knew they were being pursued, so saw the necessity of ridingfor their lives, which they did, dashing through the woods at a furiousrate, with the hue and cry of the Indians after them ringing in theirears; but suddenly they came to an impenetrable swamp.
"There they paused a few moments, listening for the sounds of pursuit;but hearing none, they started on again, skirted the swamp for somedistance, hoping to be able to cross it, but finding they could not,they dashed on in a straight line for the Ohio. For forty-eight hoursthey continued their furious speed, halting only once or twice for afew minutes to eat a little, and reached the Ohio in safety. But therethey had to pause and consider what to do, for the river was high andrough and the jaded horses could not be induced to try to swim it. Themen might yet have escaped if they had only abandoned the horses; butthat Kenton could not make up his mind to do. He and his companionsconsulted over the matter, and feeling sure that they were as muchas twelve hours in advance of their Indian pursuers, they decided toconceal the horses in the nearby ravine and themselves in an adjoiningwood, hoping that by sunset the high wind would abate and the riverbecome quiet enough for them to cross safely with the animals.
"But when the waited-for time came the wind was higher and the waterrougher than ever. Still they stayed where they were through the night.The next morning was mild, and they heard no sound of pursuing Indians,so they again tried to urge the horses over the river. But the animalsseemed to remember its condition on the previous day, and could not beinduced to go into it at all.
"It was quite a drove of horses they had stolen, but now they foundthey must abandon all but the three they could mount; so that they did,and started down the river, with the intention to keep the Ohio andIndiana side till they should arrive opposite Louisville.
"But they had waited too long, and even now were slow in carrying outtheir intention. They had not gone more than a hundred yards on theirhorses when they heard a loud halloo, coming apparently from the spotthey had just left. They could not escape; were quickly surrounded bytheir pursuers, one of Kenton's companions killed, the other, effectinghis escape while Kenton was taken prisoner, falling a victim to hislove of horses."
"I suppose he deserved it, as he had stolen the horses," remarked Elsie.
"Yes," replied her father, "he had no more right to steal from theIndians than from white people, and his sin found him out."
"Did they kill him, papa?" asked Ned.
"No; they kicked and cuffed him as much as they cared to, then madehim lie down upon his back and stretch his arms to their full length,passed a stout stick across his breast and fastened his wrists to eachextremity of it by thongs of buffalo-hide. Then they drove stakes intothe ground near his feet and fastened them in the same way. After thatthey tied a halter round his neck and fastened it to a sapling growingnear. Lastly they passed a strong rope under his body, wound it severaltimes round his arms at the elbows, so lashing them to the stick whichlay across his breast, and to which his wrists were fastened; all thisin a manner that was peculiarly painful. He could not move at all,either feet, arms or head, and was kept in that position till thenext morning. Then, as they wanted to go back to the spot from whichthey had come, they unfastened him, put him on the back of a wild,unbroken colt, one of those he had stolen, lashed him by the feet toit and tied his hands behind him. And so he was driven into the cruelcaptivity, a captivity which has been spoken of as being as singularand remarkable in other respects as any in the whole history of Indianwarfare upon this continent.
"Kenton refused with strange infatuation to adopt proper measures forhis safety while he might have done so. With strange obstinacy heremained on the Ohio shore until flight became useless. He was oftenat one hour tantalized with a prospect of safety and the next plungedinto the deepest despair. Eight times he had to run the gauntlet, threetimes he was tied to a stake and thought himself about to suffer aterrible death. Any sentence passed upon him by one council, whetherto give him mercy or death, would presently be reversed by another.Whenever Providence raised up a friend in his favor, some enemyimmediately followed, unexpectedly interposed and turned his glimpseof sunshine into deeper darkness than ever. For three weeks he was inthat manner see-sawing between life and death."
"And did they kill him at last, papa?" asked Ned.
"No," replied the captain. "An Indian agent of the name of Drewyer, whowas anxious to gain intelligence for the British commander at Detroitin regard to the strength and condition of the settlements in Kentucky,got Kenton free from the Indians just as for the fourth time they wereabout to bind him to a s
take and burn him. He (Drewyer) did not getanything of importance out of Kenton, who was three weeks later sent aprisoner to Detroit, from which place he made his escape in about eightmonths; then he went back to Kentucky. He was very brave, a valuablescout, a hardy woodsman, a good Indian fighter. He performed manydaring feats as the friend and companion of Daniel Boone, once savinghis life in a conflict with the Indians."
"Had not Logan something to do with Kenton's rescue by that Canadiantrader Drewyer?" asked Harold, who had been listening with interest tothe captain's story.
"Yes," was the reply; "Logan, the Mingo chief. At Detroit Kenton washeld as a prisoner of war, and there he worked for the garrison at halfpay, till he was aided by a trader's wife to escape. That was in July,1779. He commanded a battalion of Kentucky volunteers as major underGeneral Anthony Wayne in 1793-94, became brigadier-general of Ohiomilitia in 1805, and fought at the battle of the Thames in 1813."
"I hope his country rewarded his great services as it ought," remarkedGrace in tones of inquiry.
"Ah!" replied her father, "I am sorry to say that in his old age he wasreduced to poverty, the immense tracts of land which he possessed beinglost through the invasion of settlers and his ignorance of law.
"In 1824 he went to Frankfort to petition the legislature of Kentuckyto release the claim of the State upon some mountain land owned byhim. He was in tattered garments, and his appearance excited ridicule,but on being recognized by General Thomas Fletcher, he was taken tothe capitol, seated in the speaker's chair, and introduced to a largeassembly as the second great adventurer of the West. His lands werereleased and a pension of $240 was procured for him from Congress.
"He died near the spot where, fifty-eight years before, he had escapeddeath at the hands of the Indians. Kenton County, Kentucky, was namedin his honor.
"Now let me read you a passage from a book I was examining the otherday, in which there is an interesting account of Kenton's appearanceand manner in his old age," said the captain. "It is in the library,and I shall be back with it in a moment."
Several of the younger ones in the little company at once offered to dothe errand for him, but thanking them, and saying that he could findit more readily than they, he went in, and soon returned with the bookin his hand. Then he read aloud, "'Kenton's form, even under the weightof seventy-nine years, is striking, and must have been a model ofmanly strength and agility. His eye is blue, mild and yet penetratingin its glance. The forehead projects very much at the eyebrows, whichare well defined, and then recedes, and is neither very high nor verybroad. His hair, which in active life was light, is now quite gray;his nose is straight, and his mouth before he lost his teeth must havebeen expressive and handsome. I observed that he had yet one tooth,which, in connection with his character and manner of conversation,was continually reminding me of Leatherstocking. The whole face isremarkably expressive, not of turbulence or excitement, but rather ofrumination and self-possession. Simplicity, frankness, honesty andstrict regard to truth appeared to be the prominent traits of hischaracter. In giving an answer to a question which my friend asked him,I was particularly struck with his truthfulness and simplicity. Thequestion was, whether the account of his life, given in the "Sketchesof Western Adventure" was true or not. "Well, I'll tell you," saidhe, "not true. The book says that when Blackfish, the Injun warrior,asked me, when they had taken me prisoner, if Colonel Boone sent me tosteal their horses, I said 'No, sir.'" Here he looked indignant androse from his chair. "I tell you I never said 'sir' to an Injun in mylife; I scarcely ever say it to a white man." Here Mrs. Kenton, whowas engaged in some domestic occupation at the table, turned round andremarked that when they were last in Kentucky some one gave her thebook to read to her husband, and that when she came to that part hewould not let her read any further. "And I tell you," continued he, "Iwas never tied to a stake in my life to be burned. They had me paintedblack when I saw Girty, but not tied to a stake." We are inclined tothink, notwithstanding this, that the statement in the Sketches of hisbeing three times tied to the stake is correct, for the author of thatinteresting work had before him a manuscript account of the pioneer'slife, which had been dictated by Mr. Kenton to a gentleman of Kentuckya number of years before, when he had no motive to exaggerate and hismemory was comparatively unimpaired. But he is now beyond the reach ofearthly toil, or trouble, or suffering. His old age was as exemplary ashis youth and manhood had been active and useful. And though his lastyears were clouded by poverty, and his eyes closed in a miserable cabinto the light of life, yet shall he occupy a bright page in our borderhistory and his name soon open to the light of fame.'"
A slight pause followed the conclusion of the captain's reading ofthe sketch of the life of Kenton, then Grace said earnestly, "Thankyou, father, for giving us so extended an account of Kenton's lifeand services to our country. He deserved the kindly and gratefulremembrance of his countrymen."
"So I think," said Harold, "and that he will never be forgotten. Poorfellow! I am sorry indeed that he was robbed of his lands, and so spenthis old age and died in poverty."