USA > Tennessee > Old tales retold; or, Perils and adventures of Tennessee pioneers > Part 3
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Pitying them, Robertson answered: "As for myself, I would gladly go, but I cannot find it in my heart to advise my neighbors, who have suffered so much al- ready, to risk the dangers of wild beasts and Indians in the wilderness." His head was bowed thoughtfully for a moment before he added: "Yet I verily believe that sooner or later tyranny will drive the people into the woods."
The condition of the inhabitants throughout North Carolina continued to grow worse and worse. Tryon required them to take an oath of allegiance which did violence to their conscience, and sent his officers among them to hunt them out and offer them the choice be-
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Old Tales Retold.
tween taking the oath and being outlawed if they re- fused.
During all their trials Robertson carried the trou- bles of his countrymen in his heart. He had not for- gotten their cherished desire. One winter night he called his neighbors and friends together in his house to hear his guest, the mighty hunter, Daniel Boone, tell of a beautiful, wild valley he had visited on his last expedition to the wilderness. He explained that he had been sent thither by Colonel Richard Hender- son and other men of wealth to explore the unknown country west of the Unaka Mountains. The descrip- tion he gave of that uninhabited land held his listeners spellbound. With bated breath they heard him tell of the wide, green Watauga Valley, through which flowed Watauga (the river of Sparkling Water) for many a mile under broad, spreading trees "between banks of flowers more beautiful than could be found anywhere else in the world."
"Not a soul lives in the valley," said Boone. "The land cries aloud for people to come and take posses- sion of its forests full of singing birds and its clear streams which are alive with silvery fish. No one will disturb you or oppress you in that land which is cut off by the mountains from all others. There is no danger in it from Indians. The Six Nations on the north gave up their just claim to those hunting grounds two years ago in the treaty with the Eng- lish at Stanwix. The nearest Cherokee town is Echota, fully a hundred and fifty miles to the south. The whole country is uninhabited. I stayed and hunted there for eight months to a day, and never saw the face of man. If you would be free and happy, you
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Lost on the Mountain.
must up and across the mountains to the land that is flowing with milk and honey."
With one accord, when Daniel Boone had ceased speaking, the farmers of Wake County begged their neighbor, James Robertson, to cross the mountains and spy out the land for them, saying: "We will trust your account of the country as if we had seen it for ourselves."
They had full confidence in the man whose honesty of purpose, quickness of mind, and hardy, well-set form fitted him peculiarly to be a pioneer leader, and they were rejoiced when he with grave and modest speech accepted their trust. When Daniel Boone, the hunter and explorer, started on his next trip Rob- ertson rode beside him, intending to go with him as far as the Watauga Valley.
The explorers wore hunting shirts of dark cloth, fringed around the bottom and belted in at the waist with stout leather belts in which were stuck their long hunting knives. The flowing fringes on their buck- skin leggings and the coon tails dangling at the back of their heads from caps of hairy coon skin gave them a wild and rough appearance. Across the saddle in front of each rider rested a long-barreled Deckerd rifle, and behind was strapped a folded blanket. Each carried a sack of parched corn and a package of salt, which they expected to eat with the game they should kill on their way. While making the journey it was their practice to halt at nightfall and kindle a fire by striking sparks from flint. A piece of punk was ig- nited from the sparks. Then the glowing punk was inclosed in a wisp of dried grass and whirled rapidly through the air until a blaze was started with which to
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Old Tales Retold.
light the fire of brushwood, and when the fire had burned low the travelers roasted their meat in the hot embers. Around the camp fire Boone, who had a great knack at telling stories, entertained his com- panion with accounts of what he had seen and done in the Western wilds. Among other incidents, he told of a close fight he had once had with a large bear on Watauga. He said that he had finally killed the beast on a beech tree, and to mark the spot he had carved on the tree the inscription "D. Boone Cilled Bar on Tree, 1760." The hunter's opportunities for education had been few and his spelling was bad, but he was a man of fine natural intelligence. His reli- gious training had also been limited, yet his heart was kind and his soul was honest. He was often heard to say: "All the religion I have is to love and fear God, believe in Jesus Christ, do all the good I can to my neighbor and myself, do as little harm as I can help, and trust God for the rest."
A long way from Wake County, out toward the west, the explorers rode many days before they reached the lofty Unaka Range. At last they were at the foot of Stone Mountain. Here they camped for the night, and the next day was spent in climbing to the top. It was sunset when Daniel Boone stood with Robertson on one of the highest peaks and pointed beyond its western slopes to the Watauga sparkling along its own green valley in the distance. Robert- son caught his breath at the beauty of the scene. "Be- hold," said his friend, the noted hunter, waving his hand in the direction of a broad opening in the forest where countless numbers of buffaloes were grazing, "the settler in this country shall be richer than the
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man in the Bible who owned the cattle on a thousand hills. His trusty rifle will give him the title to the herds in a thousand valleys such as the one we see. Look how the beasts darken the earth. They hardly lift their coal-black beards from the ground all day long munching the tall, thick grass."
Viewing the valley, which was tinged by the last rays of golden May sunshine with the colors of a dream, James Robertson exclaimed joyfully: "Here, indeed, is the promised land where the oppressed peo- ple may hide behind a mountain wall from the op- pressor."
The explorers descended the western side of the inountain the following day. They next went through a wide, dense forest with no path leading in any di- rection, after which they came to a swift creek (since called Boone's Creek) which flowed into the Watauga. On its banks they were astonished to find a neat little cabin. It was the home of William Bean, who had moved with his wife from Virginia to "the backwoods" since Boone had fast been there. In this cabin the travelers saw the baby, Russell Bean, who was the first white child born in the land now called Tennessee. Farther down the valley they found the huts of several traders and trappers. It was evident that people were already beginning to come into the new country from other parts. The explorers were kindly entertained by William Bean and his good wife. "Remember," said their host, with the hospitality of a pioneer, "that I desire you to make my house your home so long as convenient to yourselves. From this moment you are members of my family, and on my part I shall try to make it agreeable." In a few days, after showing him
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Old Tales Retold.
over the country, Daniel Boone left Robertson with his new-found friends and went on himself, as he said, "in quest of the country of Kentucky," upon which he wished to report to Colonel Henderson.
In the hunting lodges of Thomas Cartwright and John Greer Robertson also met with a warm welcome. He often enjoyed with them a feast of tender buffalo steak and mountain trout, and he was received with equally good will into the hut of one Honeycut, who said cordially to him: "Stranger, you are welcome under my roof until you have a cabin of your own." Accordingly Robertson stayed with him several weeks, while Honeycut helped him to build a log dwelling house on the Watauga, opposite a beautiful, green island. The pleasant home when finished was called by the owner "Traveler's Rest."
The next work was to clear a field near the house and plant it in corn, so that the young farmer might see for himself the productiveness of the land. In a short while the grains sprouted and peeped above the ground. Robertson was astonished to see how fast and how tall the stalks grew. In course of time so many ears formed upon the stalks that his wonder was greater still, and finally when the large, heavy ears ripened to hard grain he had to build several spacious cribs in which to harvest his abundant crop. James Robertson had never seen anything to equal it on the poor soil of Wake County. He grew impatient to go back and tell his neighbors of the rich land he had found. So he mounted his horse one fine Septem- ber morning and started, all alone, for North Carolina. As long as his route followed the windings of the river he could not miss the way, but when he came to
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Lost on the Mountain.
the wide woods through which no path led in any di- rection, he became confused. In that part of their journey he and Boone had neglected to blaze the trees along the way, and now he could not find any place that he remembered seeing when they were coming to the valley. He had only the sun and stars for guides to keep him in the right course. The farther he rode the more bewildered he became. It was almost dark when he drew rein, looked wearily about him, and said within himself : "A man might easily perish in this trackless wilderness. I will rest here to-night, but in the morning I will turn back and start anew." With this intention the traveler dismounted, hobbled his `horse to keep him from straying, and turned him loose to graze, then ate his own supper of parched corn and jerked venison, and lay down on his blanket to rest until morning. But when he awoke at daylight the sky was dark with lowering gray clouds, which later hid the sun from sight. He could not tell east from west. He knew no more how to go back than forward. With a sigh the good man said: "Man proposes, but God disposes."
For several days he wandered about, not knowing in what direction he traveled. One day he reached the base of the mountain at a point where he thought he might be able to ascend to the top. By toilsome clambering his horse carried him slowly upward. In his winding way he sometimes had to go along the slippery beds of streams that dashed through narrow ravines. At other times there was no way to pass great jutting rocks that overhung deep abysses ex- cept to follow the narrow trails left by wild animals. Days passed, and with all his climbing Robertson
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Old Tales Retold.
seemed no nearer the top than ever. After a while his corn gave out, and he had nothing to eat but the game he killed with his rifle.
On the sixth day, to add to his misery, a cold rain fell in torrents. Poor Robertson was deluged with sheets of water that wet him to the skin through the heavy blanket that wrapped his shoulders. The rain even leaked into his powder horn and dampened the powder. Without dry powder his flintlock rifle would be worthless. Greatly downcast, he felt that "noth- ing worse could have happened." At that moment the horse stopped short on the edge of a precipice. Not a step farther could they go. The baffled traveler could only turn round and in the pelting rain seek another way. But try as he might, he could not surmount the difficulties he met. He either came to chasms too wide to cross, or drew up against cliffs too steep to climb.
Discouraged at last, the poor man cried aloud: "I am lost on this desolate mountain." For some time past he had managed to live on nuts and berries and the roots of certain shrubs, but now he was on a bar- ren part of the range where nothing grew, not even herbage for his horse. In mercy to the famishing beast, he turned him loose to shift for himself, and continued his journey on foot. By this time Robert- son was very hungry. It had ceased to rain, and he hoped to keep off starvation by shooting a deer which he saw within close range of his gun. He imagined that he might dry his powder sufficiently to fire by pressing it against his bare flesh to get the warmth of his body. There were only a few precious grains left. These he carefully poured into his palm and thrust his hand into his bosom, pressing the powder against
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his heart a long time, while the deer stood watching him curiously. At last, with trembling eagerness, he drew forth the powder, carefully loaded the rifle, and pulled the triggers. Click! click! went the hammers. There was no other noise. The gun had not gone off. Patiently it was tried all over again, and again there was failure. Over and over this was done, until it was useless to try longer. The powder was ruined. Ex- hausted and in despair, Robertson sank to the ground. Gaining courage again, he roused himself for one more effort, rose, and staggered forward, only to fall again. "It is all over," he groaned, and gave himself up to die. "Here am I," was his despondent thought, "about to perish miserably and alone-I, who had set out to lead others to a land of plenty ; I, who had planned to make 'the wilderness blossom as a rose.'"
Growing weaker every moment, his brain began to reel, and he was tortured by thirst to such a degree that he could not think clearly. He said to himself, "It is only the delirium of fever," when presently the musical blast of a horn echoing among the crags came to his ears. Then followed the baying of dogs, which sounded more real, and the tramp of horses coming unmistakably nearer and nearer. Louder and clearer grew the sounds, until he both heard and saw two huntsmen emerging from behind a large bowlder. Rob- ertson was too weak to call aloud. Though he made the effort, his whispered cry for help was not heard. The men were passing him by, when one of them, who, as it chanced, was John Greer, happened to turn aside, and stumbled over Robertson's almost lifeless body. "Ah!" he exclaimed in amazement, "here is the stranger from North Carolina, dead."
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'Old Tales Retold.
But when he and his companion, Thomas Cartwright, got down and examined closely they found signs of life in the thin, wasted body. Very tenderly the rough backwoodsmen held him sitting upright in their arms, very gently they pressed morsels of food between his lips and gave him sparingly of water until he regained a little strength. After a while they placed him on one of their horses and journeyed with him across the mountain, not leaving him until they had carried him almost all the way to his North Carolina home. fen years later it chanced that the three men met again and became fast friends.
When James Robertson reached his farmhouse in Wake County he looked like the ghost of his former self. Seeing his forlorn appearance, his neighbors said among themselves : "Surely he found only a land of famine beyond the mountains." They could hardly be- lieve, even from his truthful lips, that the Watauga Valley was a "paradise on earth" before he explained that he had wandered, starving, fourteen days on the mountain after he had left the fertile valley. But when they were made to understand how bountiful was the country and were told that the Governor of Virginia, claiming the land for Virginia, offered to give a grant of four hundred acres to every man who would move there and build a home, they were eager to move to the valley at once. In ending his talk to them Robertson said: "My life has been spared for a special purpose. An all-wise Providence sent Cart- wright and Greer to preserve my life for the sake of · those whom it is intended I shall lead from bondage into freedom." Now the farmers of Wake County de- sired liberty above all things. A longing to cross the
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·mountains and be free took hold of them, a desire which grew stronger with each unjust act of Governor Tryon, until at last, as Robertson had foretold, tyranny drove the people into the woods. They with others had before this risen in arms against the colonial gov- ernment and had fought the battle of the Alamance (which was in reality the first battle in the struggle for American independence), but had been defeated in the fight.
So it came about that in the spring of 1771 sixteen families, consisting of eighty men, women, and chil- dren, crossed the Unakas, fleeing from the tyranny of George III. and his creature, Governor Tryon. The journey was made on horseback, as no wheeled vehicle could climb the rough mountains. At the heels of the horses trotted the faithful dogs, and in the rear of the procession came the milch cows driven by the older children, many of whom trudged on foot all the way to their new home. At the head of the party rode James Robertson beside his young wife, Charlotte Reeves, who held their infant son in her arms. Others of the women carried a child behind as well as a babe in the lap. Few articles of comfort, and no luxuries, could be transported over the rugged trail. The nec- essary clothing, bedding, and kitchen utensils were strapped on pack horses. All else was left behind. The pioneers bade good-by at once to oppression and to the conveniences of civilized life. On arriving at their destination the men built comfortable houses of logs. While waiting for these many of the immi- grants were sheltered in Traveler's Rest. Then, and for many years afterwards, it was the usual stopping place for all newcomers into the Watauga settlement.
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Old Tales Retold.
Under its ample roof James Robertson and his wife kept open house for any who chose to enter. In win- ter their hearth and in summer their broad porch was the gathering place of the community. The evenings were often spent by Robertson in reading aloud to the people from the Bible. That and a few other books, such as "Pilgrim's Progress" and Foxe's "Book of Martyrs," which had been brought across the moun- tains along with the necessities of life, were greatly prized; but Robertson's favorite was the Bible, from which it was his habit to quote frequently. For sev- eral years the pioneer families lived their simple lives shut off from the outside world, happy in the thought that they were free from the persecutions of Tryon, and at ease in the belief that they were safe from trou- ble with Indians. With the latter they were on the most friendly terms. It was common for the Cherokee braves to visit them through friendly curiosity to see their way of living, but none came to do them harm. Their settlement had been made, as they believed, north of the line running "from the Atlantic Ocean west to the South Seas," in latitude 36.30, which the Treaty of Stanwix had fixed as the just boundary between the white people and the Cherokee Nation, and there was no question in dispute between them at that time.
The emigration of these lovers of freedom to the Watauga Valley was the beginning of the free State of Tennessee. As William E. Gladstone has said: "The greatest calamity that can befall a State is for its people to forget its origin." It is well, therefore, to observe some of the traits which distinguished the first settlers west of the Unakas. To begin with, they were truly democratic. Among them there was no
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separation of caste or class. On the Watauga all cit- izens were equal. A man or woman was esteemed according to his or her virtues. Being a quiet, home- loving people, their community was almost free from crime. A moral offender in the early days of the West was "hated from society." A bad man could not stay among people given over to honesty and fair dealing. It was not until some years later, when evil- doers came among them in larger numbers, that they found need of laws to punish vice. In their social life the Wataugans were gay and light of heart, and passed much of their leisure time in cheerful amuse- ments. Such were the founders of the commonwealth of Tennessee.
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IV.
THE INTERRUPTED FEAST.
Ar last the chief of all the Cherokees had fallen out with the white people who lived in the beautiful Watauga Valley. One day, with six hundred of his warriors, he came galloping into the settlement to talk over the matter in dispute between them. * The eagle feathers that stood straight up around the heads of the tall Indians made them look still taller, and long, furry tails of animals dangling down their backs gave them the appearance of wild beasts. Their leader was a man of large frame, who was taller than all the rest. His bare breast equally with his face was seamed with scars, and he was so crippled from other wounds he had received in battle that the Watauga boys called him "Old Hop" (behind his back, mind you), though his real name was Oconostota, the king of the Cher- okees.
When the men of Watauga saw the warriors coming they went out to meet them under the shade of the great oaks in the edge of the Watauga Old Fields, where Elizabethton, in Carter County, was afterwards built.
Having dismounted, the savage king limped for- ward and said gruffly: "The white people must leave this valley. Time out of mind it has belonged to the Men of Fire .* The Cherokees have built no wigwams
*The meaning of the word "Cherokee" in English is "Men of Fire."
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The Interrupted Feast.
in the valley, yet the land is ours, as all the world knows."
Then a chief named "The Raven," because of his keen scent for war, said: "These were the ancient hunting grounds of our forefathers. Dear to us are the waters of the Watauga, Hogohogee [Holston], Pellissippe [Clinch], Aguiqua [French Broad], and the wide Kalamuchee [Tennessee]. Their valleys are ours, and we do not mean to give them up."
There was a great deal more talking, and the white people were troubled what to say in reply, until James Robertson, the head man of Watauga, spoke out for them and said: "We moved to this valley innocently. We were told that it had been given to Virginia by the Six Nations at the Treaty of Stanwix. In truth we thought we were settling on Virginia soil until Colonel John Donaldson recently surveyed the line which divides Virginia from the Cherokee hunting grounds, and we learned that we are south of the line instead of north of it, as we had supposed. But now we do not claim the land. We only ask you to lease it to us for a few years, so that we may enjoy for a while the homes we have built and cultivate the fields we have fenced."
Oconostota answered in a surly tone, saying : "If we let you rob us of these lands to-day, you will ask for more next year, still more the next, and so on year after year till you drive us into the ocean of the setting sun. White men are greedy for the red man's land. Whole nations have melted away in their presence like balls of snow before the sun, and scarcely left their names behind."
Robertson wisely kept his temper, and said per-
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Old Tales Retold.
suasively : "We do not wish to take your possessions without paying for them. Some bad white men sent by the British king have been telling you false tales about us. We are your friends. We wish to deal fairly. Lease the valley to us for ten years, and we will pay you down for it on the spot all the colored glass beads you want, a great quantity of fishhooks, a number of bales of scarlet cloth, and enough gun- powder to satisfy you."
By this proposition the Wataugans were offering to pay a hundred per cent higher for a lease of their lands than the price at which William Penn had bought Pennsylvania. Robertson paused between the mention of one article and the next, and at each pause the chieftain's face grew brighter; seeing which, Atta Culla-Culla, the vice king of the Cherokees, who was friendly to the settlers, hastened to say to Oconostota : "The Wataugans are our brothers. Our braves love to visit them. No hungry Indian has ever been re- fused food in this valley, nor the cold and weary hunter denied a shelter." Glancing at the king for assent, he then turned to the white people and said: "To-day we freely surrender a part of our lands to our white broth- ers, but only for a term of eight years. My speech is at an end. It is the voice of the Cherokee Nation."
With this concession the Wataugans were forced to be satisfied. In token of good faith Culla-Culla ad- vanced to Robertson's side and placed a string of wam- pum in his hand. Then the peace pipe, four feet long, sheathed in a speckled snake skin, was brought to Oconostota, who smoked a few whiffs, puffing the smoke first toward the sun, next to the four points of the compass, and then over the breast of James Rob-
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The Interrupted Feast.
ertson before handing it to him to be smoked and passed on in turn by him and all the leading white men and Indian chiefs present. The treaty was celebrated by a great feast, and whole oxen were barbecued by the negro cooks. There was famous racing and dancing and ball-playing in the grassy "old fields." The merrymaking was kept up for several days, and all the while the pioneer fiddlers made lively music which mingled with the noise of the little Indian drums. Every one seemed to think that there would never be any more trouble in the valley, except Oconostota, who said grimly to one of the Wataugans: "Brother, we have given you a fine land, but I believe you will have trouble in settling it."
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