USA > Massachusetts > Our western border : its life, combats, adventures, forays, massacres, captivities, scouts, red chiefs, pioneer women, one hundred years ago, containing the cream of all the rare old border chronicles > Part 55
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Harrod would often be gone for weeks and even months together- no one knew whither or for what end. During these absences his industry was untiring; all the game killed was cured and stored, Indian fashion, beyond the reach of wild beasts. His knowledge of Indians and their ways was such that he would often continue hunting when he knew they were in the same range. The proud hunter would not give way, but took his chances with the red foe. On one such occasion, he perceived a group of several deer feeding in a small glade in the forest, near the Kentucky river. He had cautiously approached them, and was kneeling behind a tree and raising his rifle for a shot, when the buck of the herd suddenly lifted its head and uttered the peculiar shrill whis- tle which indicates that it has either seen or smelt danger.
Harrod was too skilled a woodsman not to know that there was another foe present besides himself. He held his breath, when, at the sharp crack of a rifle from the opposite side of the glade, the startled
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buck leaped into the air and fell dead. The report of Harrod's rifle followed so instantly that it seemed a mere echo, or rather a prolonga- tion of the same sound. A nobler quarry had bitten the dust, for the un- erring ball of the borderer had reached the heart of a Shawnee chief, who had leaned forward from his covert to fire. Harrod had known for several days that an Indian hunting party was in the neighborhood.
At another time his unwary game was nearly played upon himself. He was out upon a buffalo trail leading to the Blue Licks, and he had wounded a tough, surly old bull, that had left the herd and stood at bay in the recesses of a thick wood. The wounded animal was very fierce and dangerous, and the hunter had to approach it cautiously. While in the very act of firing, he caught a glimpse of a warrior taking aim at himself from behind a tree. He fired and the warrior fired, the former dropping instantly to the ground as if killed. He laid perfectly dead, while the savage, after stopping to load his rifle-an invariable habit with them before leaving cover-now approached-warily enough, leap- ing from tree to tree-to take his scalp. Seeing that the body was per- fectly still, the Indian sprang forward, knife in hand, but as he stooped to grasp the scalp-lock, the long and powerful arms of Harrod were locked about him as those from a devil-fish, and with the tightening coil of a boa constrictor, the warrior was crushed in his herculean hug, and writhed helpless on the ground bereath him.
The Shawnees had made severa, attacks on Boone's settlement, he.be- ing absent at the Licks with a great portion of the men of the station, making salt. Prowling parties of Indians had at this time killed their cattle, driven their hunting parties and so shortened their supplies that the little garrison was reduced to great straits. At this juncture Har- rod returned from one of his long tramps. He proposed to some of the men that they should accompany him to one of his nearest depots of meat. The risk was so great that none dared venture, so Harrod started out alone. He found game very shy and as there were plenty of " Indian sign" about, he concluded to get the first meat he could find.
He now noted a small herd of deer moving as if lately startled, and he advanced very circumspectly, and soon saw the prints of moccasins on the trail of the deer. He had progressed but a short distance when the sudden whistle of a deer, followed instantly by the cracks of two rifles, warned him it was time for business. The Indians saw him and treed, and while he was peeping cautiously forth for a shot, a rifle ball from the right whizzed through the heavy mass of black _air that fell over his shoulders, stinging his neck sharply as it grazed past. He crouched in a jiffy, and all was still as death for some time, the two sav- ages being on the left and the new one on the right.
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HARROD IDOLIZED BY ALL.
Harrod then concluded to play the cap game-a stale trick enough, but now effectual. Placing his famous wolf-skin cap on the muzzle of his rifle, he, after some prefatory manœuvering among the shrubs to show that he was getting restless, slowly and hesitatingly raised the cap. The ring of three rifles was almost simultaneous, and before the echoes had died away, that from Harrod followed, and the death-shriek of a warrior proclaimed the success of the venture. Another long quiet ! The cap was elevated again, but this time only drew one fire, but enough ! for it disclosed the exact position of his foes. In less than a minute, the savage who had fired, exposed part of his body in sending home his wiper. Harrod shot him through the heart.
The other Indian commenced a retreat, and got off, but not before carrying away a lump of the " pale-face's" lead. Harrod proceeded at his leisure to dress the two deer his foes had killed, and that night entered the station loaded down with meat.
HARROD IDOLIZED BY ALL-HE NURSES A WOUNDED INDIAN.
Harrod's cabin soon became the nucleus of a station ; whither hunt- ers, surveyors, speculators and emigrants flocked for shelter and protec- tion. Harrod's knowledge and good-will were at the service of all. He shouldered his axe and helped the new comers to run up a cabin. If they were out of meat, Harrod some how found it out, and was off to the woods and soon a fine deer or bear, or the haunches of a buffalo, were at their disposal. If the stranger's horses had strayed in the range, Harrod's frank and pleasant voice would be heard, " Halloo, Jones ! no ploughing to-day ? Nothing wrong, I hope?" "Well, yes -the old beast's been gone these five days-can't find him down thar in the canebrake-been lost myself two days in looking arter him, and I've jest about give it up." "Never mind, Jones, you'll get used to that range soon-that horse of your'n is a blood bay, ain't he?" "Yes, snip down the nose and left hind foot white, bad collar-mark on the shoulders." "Ah, yes ; good morning, Jones," and a few hours after Jones' horse, with his snip on his nose, is quietly fastened to Jones' fence, and Harrod walks in.
News comes to the station that the savages have attacked the house of a settler five miles off and murdered all the family but two daughters, whom they have hurried off as captives. The war cry of Harrod is in- stantly heard, "Come, boys ! come, boys ! we must catch those rascals. We can't spare our girls." The swift and tireless pursuit, the wary ap- proach to camp, the night attack, the short, fierce struggle, the rescue and the victorious return would then follow. Harrod liked most to go
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alone, for he said companions complained of hardships and dangers when the fun was just commencing with him, but when by himself he knew exactly what he could and what he would do. The Indians, on account of this extraordinary love for solitary adventure, had chris- tened him the " Lone Long Knife," and greatly dreaded his mysterious prowess.
Once, when discovered by a young warrior, right in the centre of the Indian village, he struck him to the earth with his huge fist, and leaped for the forest, followed by a gang of redskins. But they had a man before them swifter and more tireless than themselves. By the time he had reached the Miami, ten miles off, there were only three who fol- lowed. Harrod swam the river without hesitation, being fired at while climbing the opposite bank. He now took a tree, and, removing the water-proof cover of deer's bladder from his rifle lock, quietly waited. After hesitating a moment, the three pursuers plunged in. Harrod waited until they approached the shore, when, at the ominous crack of his rifle, the foremost sank. The other two paused, then turned to go back, but before they could get out of range, he wounded a second desperately, who gave himself up to the current, and was swept down out of sight. The third, by a series of rapid dives, like those of a wary loon, succeeded in baffling the white hunter's aim, and at last swam out of range.
The hunter paused to rest, and scme hour or so afterwards, while wandering along the bank, Harrod saw upon a pile of driftwood, which had collected at the mouth of one of the small runs, some living object, which he at first took for a large turtle glistening in the sun as he drew his unwieldy body up on the logs to bask. He approached nearer and stopped to gaze. Imagine his surprise on seeing a stalwart Indian drag his body slowly from the water and finally seat himself upon the logs. He had lost his gun, and now endeavored to stifle with moss and leaves the bleeding from a severe bullet wound in his shoulder. Harrod knew that it was the second savage he had shot. Here was a trial and a test of the man ! The foe was wounded and helpless; to shoot the poor wretch he could not now; to leave him there to die would be still more cruel. His big heart melted, and, stealthily making a wide circuit, he crept silently upon the warrior from behind. A large tree stood close to the drift, which, being gained, Harrod laid down his gun, then suddenly stepping into full view, raised his empty hands to show he was unarmed.
" Ugh!" grunted the astounded warrior, making a sudden move- ment, as if to plunge into the water again. Harrod placed his hand upon his heart, spoke a few words in the Shawnee tongue, when the
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young Indian paused and looked for a moment earnestly into his late opponent's face, and bowed his head in token of submission. Harrod now examined his wound, helped him to the bank, tore his own shirt and bound up the wounds with healing, cooling herbs, and then, to crown all his benevolent efforts, when he found the Indian unable to walk, threw him across his own broad shoulders and bore him to a cave near by which he used as one of his deposits for game. The entrance was small and covered with brambles and vines, but as one entered, it opened out and presented a smooth floor, with beautiful and fantastic- ally-shaped stalactites pendent from the rocky roof. At the farther ex- tremitv of this rocky chamber a clear, pure stream of sparkling water poured into a smooth, round basin, worn into the solid limestone, and finding exit through a dark hole in the wall.
The Indian was all eyes as he was gently laid down upon the floor, and in this strange and secluded hiding place, as the story goes, Harrod watched and waited on his wounded foe. His interest in the young warrior grew by tending him. He brought him meat and cooling fruits ; washed and dressed his wounds, and carefully and tenderly nursed him back to health and strength. When the young savage grew sufficiently able to journey, Harrod gave him a supply of provisions, and, pointing towards the North, bade him return to his people and tell them how the hated Long Knife treated his wounded foe. Nothing was ever heard directly from this warrior again, but Boone, who about this time was, with his salt makers, taken prisoner by the Shawnees, always attributed the kind treatment he and his men received to the good offices of this grateful savage.
The popularity of Harrod now grew very great. He was a true leader, and was soon after elected Colonel, married a Kentucky girl, and was universally idolized, but he modestly shrank from all honors. Not all the comforts of a happy home, or the endearments of a grow- ing family, however, could win him from his absorbing passion for long, solitary hunting rambles. From one of these he never returned. Whether he met his fate by some "moving accident by flood or field;" by some casualty of the hunt, or in some deadly and desperate conflict with his swarthy foes, none ever knew, but all, from their knowledge of his unquailing intrepidity, felt absolutely certain that in whatever shape death came, it was met bravely and unflinchingly.
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COMBAT AND ESCAPE OF PETER KENNEDY.
About the year 1781, a band of Indians came into Hardin county, Kentucky, and after committing numerous depredations and killing some women and children, were pursued by the whites. During the pursuit a portion of the Indians, who were on stolen horses, took a southerly direction so as to strike the Ohio about where Brandenburg is now situated ; while the other party, who were on foot, attempted to cross the Ohio at the mouth of Salt river. The whites pursued each party, the larger portion following the trail of the horses-the smaller, the foot party. Among the latter was the hero of this sketch, Peter Kennedy.
Young Kennedy was noted for his fleetness of foot, strength of body and intrepidity. He was selected as their leader. They pursued the Indians to within a mile of the river, the savages awaiting them in ambush.
The enemy were ten in number, the whites six. As they were led on by their daring leader in an effort to overtake them before they could reach the river, all of his comrades were shot down and he was left to contend single-handed with ten fierce and savage Indians. This was odds calculated to make the bravest tremble; but young Kennedy was determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. With one bound he reached a tree, and awaited his opportunity to wreak vengeance upon the savage foe. The redskins, with their usual wariness, kept their cover ; but at last one more impatient than the remainder showed his head from behind his tree. As quick as thought Kennedy buried a rifle ball in his forehead and instantly turned to flee; but no sooner did he abandon his cover than nine deadly rifles were leveled at him and instantly fired, and with the fire a simultaneous whoop of triumph, for the brave Kennedy fell, pierced through the right hip with a ball. Disabled by the wound, and unable to make further resistance, he was taken prisoner and immediately borne off to the Wabash, where the tribe of the victorious party belonged.
The wound of Kennedy was severe, and the pain which he suffered from it, was greatly aggravated by the rapid movement of the Indians. The arrival of the party was hailed with the usual demonstrations of Indian triumph ; but Kennedy, owing to his feeble and suffering con- dition, was treated with kindness. His wound gradually healed, and as he again found himself a well man, he felt an irrepressible desire for
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freedom. He determined to make his escape, but how to effect it was the question. In this state of suspense he remained for two years ; well knowing that, however kindly the Indians might treat a prisoner when first captured, an unsuccessful attempt to escape would be fol- lowed by the infliction of death, and that, too, by the stake. But still Kennedy was willing to run this risk to regain that most inestimable of gifts freedom. The vigilance of the Indians ultimately relaxed, and Kennedy seized the opportunity, and made good his escape to the Ken- tucky side of the Ohio.
Hitherto Kennedy had rapidly pressed forward without rest or nour- ishment, for he knew the character of the savages, and anticipated a rapid pursuit. Hungry and exhausted, he was tempted to shoot a deer which crossed his path, from which he cut a steak, cooked it, and had nearly completed his meal, when he heard the shrill crack of an Indian rifle, and felt that he was again wounded, but fortunately not disabled. He grasped his gun and bounded forward in the direction of Gooden's station, distant nearly thirty miles. Fortunately he was acquainted with the locality, which aided him greatly in his flight. The chase soon became intensely exciting. The fierce whoop of the Indians was met with a shout of defiance from Kennedy. For a few minutes, at the outset of the chase, the Indians appeared to gain on him ; but he re- doubled his efforts, and gradually widened the distance between the pursuers and himself.
But there was no abatement of effort on either side-both the pur- suers and pursued put forth all their energies. The yell of the savages as the distance widened, became fainter and fainter-Kennedy had de- scended in safety the tall cliff on the Rolling Fork, and found himself, as the Indians reached the summit, a mile in advance.
Here the loud yell of the savages reverberated along the valleys of that stream, but so far from damping, infused new energy into the flight of Kennedy. The race continued, Kennedy still widening the interval, to within a short distance of Gooden's station, when the Indians, in despair gave up the chase. Kennedy arrived safely at the station, but in an exhausted state. His tale was soon told. The men instantly grasped their rifles, and under the direction of Kennedy, sallied forth to encounter the savages. The scene was now changed. The pursuers became the pursued. The Indians, exhausted by their long-continued chase, were speedily overtaken, and not one returned to their tribe to tell of the fruitless pursuit of Kennedy ! Kennedy lived in Hardin county to a very old age and left a numerous and respectable progeny.
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AN ADVENTURE OF BOONE, RELATED BY HIMSELF.
Audubon, the distinguished naturalist and one of Nature's truest noblemen-as fond of hunting and the free, unshackled life of the wil- derness as Boone himself-passed some little time with the famous Ken- tucky pioneer at his home in Missouri, and relates the following extra- ordinary incident. We quote: Colonel Boone happened to spend a night with me, under the same roof, more than twenty years ago. We had returned from a shooting excursion, in the course of which his extraordinary skill in the use of the rifle had been fully displayed. On retiring to the room appropriated to that remarkable individual and my- self, I felt anxious to know more of his exploits and adventures than I did, and accordingly took the liberty of proposing numerous questions to him. The stature and general appearance of this wanderer of the western forests approached the gigantic. His chest was broad and prominent; his muscular powers displayed themselves in every limb; his countenance gave indication of great courage, enterprise and perse- rerance, and when he spoke, the very motion of his lips conveyed the impression of truth. I undressed, while he merely took off his hunting shirt and arranged a few folds of blankets on the floor, choosing rather to lie there, as he observed, than on the softest bed. When we had both disposed of ourselves, each after his own fashion, he related to me the following account of his powers of memory:
"I was once," said he, "hunting on the banks of the Green river. We Virginians had for some time been waging a war of intrusion upon the savages, and I, among the rest, rambled through the woods in pursuit of their race as I now would follow the tracks of any venomous animal. The Indians outwitted me one dark night, and I was as suddenly as unexpectedly made a prisoner by them. The trick had been managed with great skill, for no sooner had I extinguished my fire and laid me down in full security, as I thought, than I felt myself seized by an in- distinguishable number of hands, and was immediately pinioned fast. To have resisted would have been useless and dangerous, and I suffered myself to be removed to their camp, a few miles distant, without utter- ing one word of complaint. You are, doubtless, aware that this was the best policy, since it proved to the Indians at once that I was born and bred as fearless of death as any of themselves.
" When we reached the camp, great rejoicings were exhibited. The squaws and pappooses appeared particularly delighted to see me, and I was assured, by very unequivocal words and gestures, that on the
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morrow the mortal enemy of the redskins would cease to live. I never opened my lips, but was busy contriving some scheme which might enable me to give the rascals the slip before dawn. The women im- mediately fell a searching about my hunting shirt for whatever they might think valuable, and, fortunately for me, soon found my flask of strong whiskey. A terrific grin was exhibited on their murderous countenances, while my heart throbbed with joy at the anticipation of their intoxication. The crew immediately began to beat their stomachs and sing, as they passed the bottle from mouth to mouth.
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" How often did I wish the flask ten times the size and filled with aquafortis! I observed that the squaws drank more freely than the war- riors, and again my heart was depressed, when, all at once, the report of a gun was heard at a distance. The Indians all jumped to their feet. The singing and drinking were both brought to a stand, and I saw, with inexpressible joy, the men walk off to some distance and talk to their squaws. I knew that they were consulting about me, and foresaw that the warriors would go to see what the gun meant. I expected that the squaws would be left to guard me, and it was just so. They returned, while the men took up their guns and marched off. The squaws sat down again, and in less than five minutes had my bottle up to their ugly mouths, gurgling down their throats the remains of the whiskey.
"With what pleasure did I see them becoming more and more drunk, until the liquor took such hold of them that it was quite impossible for these women to be of any more service. They tumbled down, rolled about, and began to snore. Then I, having no other chance of freeing myself from the cords that fastened me, rolled over and over towards the fire, and, after a short time, succeeded in burning them asunder. I rose on my feet, stretched my stiffened sinews, snatched up my rifle, and, for once in my life, spared that of the Indians. I now recollect how desirous I once or twice felt to lay open the skulls of the wretches with my tomahawk, but when I again thought upon killing beings un- prepared and unable to defend themselves, it looked like murder with- out need, and I gave up that idea.
" But, sir, I determined to mark the spot, and, walking to a thrifty ash sapling, I cut out of it three large chips, and ran off. I soon reached the river, crossed it, and threw myself deep into the canebrake, imitating the tracks of an Indian with my feet. It is now nearly twenty years since that happened, and more than five since I left the white settlements, which I probably might never have visited again had I not been called on as a witness in a law suit pending in Kentucky, and! which I really believe would never have been settled had I not come. forward and established the beginning of a certain boundary line. 33
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" This is the story, sir : Mr. - moved from Virginia to Kentucky, having a large tract of land granted him in the new State. He laid claim to a certain parcel of land adjoining Green river, and as chance would have it, took for one of his corners the very ash tree on which I had made my mark and finished his survey of some thousands of acres, beginning, as it is expressed in the deed, 'at an ash marked by three dis- tinct notches of the tomahawk.' The tree had grown much and the bark had covered the marks. Mr. - had heard from some one all that I have already told you, and thinking I might remember the spot, but which was no longer discoverable, wrote for me to come and try at least to find the place or tree. All expenses were to be paid me and not caring much about going back to Kentucky, I started and met Mr. -----.
" After some conversation, the affair with the Indians came to my recollection. I considered for a while and began to think that after all I could find the very spot as well as the tree if it was yet standing. We mounted our horses and off we went to the Green river bottoms. After some difficulties, for you must be aware, sir, that great changes had taken place in those woods, I found at last the spot where I had crossed the river, and, waiting for the moon to rise, made for the course in which I thought the ash tree grew. On approaching the place, I felt exactly as if the Indians were there still and I a prisoner among them. We camped near what I conceived to be the spot and waited the return of day.
"At the rising of the sun I was on foot, and after a good deal of musing thought that an ash tree then in sight must be the very one on which I had made my mark. I felt as if there could be no doubt of it and mentioned my thought to Mr. -. 'Well, Colonel Boone,' said he, ' if you think so I hope it may prove true, but we must have some witnesses. Do you stay here and I will go and bring some of the set- tlers whom I know.' I agreed and he trotted off, and I, to pass the time, rambled about to see if a deer was still living in the land. But, ah! sir, what a wonderful difference thirty years makes in a country ! Why, at the time when I was caught by the Indians, you could not have walked out in any direction for more than a mile without shooting a buck or bear. There were then thousands of buffalo on the hills of Kentucky ; the land looked as if it never would become poor, and to hunt in those days was a pleasure indeed. But when left to myself on the banks of Green river, I dare say, for the last time in my life, a few signs only of deer were to be seen, and as to a deer itself, I saw none.
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