On the Kentucky Frontier: A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West

by James Otis

  CHAPTER I.

  SIMON KENTON.

  It is my purpose to set down what I saw during such time as Simon Kentongave me my first lessons in woodcraft and it is well to make thestatement in advance in order that others may be deprived of theopportunity of saying what would sound disagreeable:--that the pupil wasfor a time so dull that one less patient and painstaking than Kentonwould have brought the lessons to a speedy close.

  That which now seems the most difficult is to decide how I shall beginthis story of the little which I did on the Kentucky frontier during theyear of grace 1778, and I can hit upon no plan which promises bettersuccess than that of copying here what I read in a printed book longyears after I, a green lad, set out to do my little share towardbringing peace and a sense of security to the settlers who were strivingto make homes for themselves and their families in what was then knownas the colony of Virginia.

  I make use of such a beginning because it appears to me as if the wiseman who thus explains the condition of affairs among us at that time,tells in a few lines what I might struggle vainly over many pages ofpaper to put into form one-half so concise and satisfactory:

  "With the single exception of Dunmore's expedition in 1774, hostilitieswest of the Alleghanies were nothing but a series of border conflicts,each little party acting upon its own responsibility, until 1778, whenMajor George Rogers Clarke led a regular expedition against the frontierposts of the enemy in the wilderness. Clarke first went toward Kentuckyin 1772, when he paddled down the Ohio with the Reverend David Jones,then on his way to preach the Gospel to the Western Indians.

  "He was at once impressed with the importance of that fertile region,and the necessity of making it a secure place for settlements. His mindwas clear and comprehensive; his personal courage of the truest stamp;his energies, physical and mental, always vigorous, and he soon becamean oracle among the backwoods-men. During the years 1775 and 1776, hetraversed vast regions of the wilderness south of the Ohio, studied thecharacter of the Indians chiefly from the observations of others, andsought to discover a plan by which a tide of emigration might flowunchecked and secure into that paradise of the continent.

  "He soon became convinced that the British garrisons at Detroit,Kaskaskia, and Vincennes, were the nests of those vultures who preyedupon the feeble settlements of the west, and deluged the virgin soilwith the blood of the pioneers. Virginia, to which province this richwilderness belonged, was at that time bending all her energies inadvancing the cause of independence within her borders east of theAlleghanies, and the settlers west of the mountains were left to theirown defense.

  "Major Clarke, convinced of the necessity of reducing the hostile fortsin the Ohio country, submitted a plan for the purpose to the VirginiaLegislature, in December, 1777. His scheme was highly approved, andGovernor Henry and his council were so warmly interested that MajorClarke received two sets of instructions, one public, ordering him to'proceed to the defense of Kentucky,' the other private, directing anattack upon the British fort at Kaskaskia. Twelve hundred pounds wereappropriated to defray the expenses of the expedition; and thecommandant of Fort Pitt was ordered to furnish Clarke with ammunition,boats, and other necessary equipments.

  "His force consisted of only four companies, and they were all primemen. Early in the spring they rendezvoused upon Corn Island, at thefalls of the Ohio, six hundred and seven miles by water, below FortPitt. Here Clarke was joined by Simon Kenton, one of the boldestpioneers of the west, then a young man of twenty-two years. He had beenacting as a spy for two years previously; henceforth he was engaged in amore honorable, but not more useful, service."

  Now that this much has been explained by another, I am still at a lossto know how this poor story should be begun, and after much cudgeling ofmy weak brain have decided to jump into the matter after the samefashion that the events come into my memory after these many years ofpeace and idleness.

  On a certain morning in February, in the year 1778, I went out to lookafter my traps, and had thrown myself down on the bank of the Ohio Riverto decide a question which had been vexing me many days.

  Never for a moment did I lose sight of the fact that it was necessary Ihave my wits about me in case I counted on keeping my hair, for many ascalp had been taken in that vicinity within the six months just passed,and I believed that nothing larger than a squirrel could come withinstriking distance, save by my own knowledge and consent.

  Therefore it was I sprang up very suddenly in the greatest alarm when awhite man stood before me, having approached so silently that it wasalmost as if he had come up through the very earth.

  It is not to be supposed that Indians were the only beings in form ofmen we settlers on the Ohio had reason to fear in those days; there weremany white men whose hearts were as black as those of the savages, andwho would draw bead on one of their kind from sheer love of spillingblood, if no other reason presented itself.

  As I have set down here, I sprang to my feet, rifle in hand, ready forthe first threatening movement on the part of the stranger; but he gavelittle token of being an enemy.

  His weapon was thrown across the hollow of his arm as he stood lookingat me in a friendly manner, and I might easily have shot him down,unless he was quicker with a rifle than any other I had ever met.

  A young fellow was this newcomer, hardly more than one and twenty, as itthen seemed to me, and there was that in his face which gave token thathe might be a close friend or a dangerous enemy, whichsoever way he wasapproached.

  "Out for fur?" he said rather than asked, glancing down at the trapswhich lay near at hand.

  I nodded; but remained on my guard, determined not to be taken at adisadvantage by soft words.

  "It is better to keep movin', than lay 'round where a sneakin' Injunmight creep up a bit too near," he said with a smile, as he seatedhimself near the decaying tree-trunk on which I had left the traps.

  "I would have sworn neither white nor red could have come upon me in thefashion you did," I said hotly, and thoroughly ashamed of myself forhaving been so careless.

  "I reckon it might have puzzled an Injun to do the trick. If I couldn'tbeat them at movin' 'round, my head would have been bare these fiveyears."

  It sounded much like boasting, his claiming to be able to beat an Indianat woodcraft, for at that time I believed the savages could outwit anysettler who ever lived; but before many weeks had passed I came tounderstand that I had been sadly mistaken.

  "Is that your cabin yonder under the big knoll?" he asked, more as if byway of beginning a conversation than from curiosity.

  "Yes; have you been there?"

  "I looked it over; but didn't try to scrape acquaintance. Does yourmother live there?"

  "Yes; she and I alone."

  "What sent her down into this wilderness with no one but a lad likeyourself?" he asked, speaking as if he was twice my age, when, unlessall signs failed, he was no more than five years my elder.

  "Father was with us when we came, last year. He was killed by themurdering savage sneaks nearly two months ago."

  "Why did you hold on here?" the stranger asked, eying me curiously."Surely the clearin' isn't so far along that it pays to risk your lifefor it."

  "Mother would have packed off; but I couldn't leave."

  "Why?"

  "It's a poor kind of a son who won't at least try to wipe off such ascore, and I'll hold on here till those who killed the poor old man havefound out who I am!"

  Tears of mingled rage, grief, and helplessness came into my eyes as Ispoke thus hotly, and I wheeled around quickly lest this stranger,seeing them, should set me down for a younger lad than I really was.

  "It's quite a job you've shouldered," he said after a pause. "The Injunsnearabout here ain't to be caught nappin' every hour in the day, and thechances are your mother may find herself alone on the clearin' beforeyou have made any great headway in settlin' the score."

  "Because you crept up on me, there is no reason why the red snakes cando the same thing!" I cried ang
rily, whereupon he nodded gravely as ifagreeing with me, after which he asked:

  "How old are you?"

  "Must a fellow have seen so many years more or less before he can do thework of a man?" I demanded, giving proof by my petulance that I was yetlittle more than a child.

  "It was not with anything of the kind in my mind that I asked thequestion. Perhaps I wondered if you'd had the experience that'll beneeded before your work is done."

  "I'm just turned sixteen," I replied, thoroughly ashamed of havingdisplayed an ill-temper.

  "Where did you come from?"

  "Pennsylvania."

  "Was your father a Tory?" he asked.

  "Indeed he wasn't!" and now I grew hot again. "He believed we mightbetter our condition by pushing into the wilderness, for when a man'sland is overrun by two armies, as ours had been, farming is a poortrade."

  Then he questioned me yet more closely until I had come to an end of myshort story, which began with the day we set out from the colony foundedby William Penn, and ended with that hour when I came across my poorfather's mangled body scarce half a mile from our clearing, where thebeasts in human form had tortured him.

  All this I told the stranger as if he had been, an old friend, for therewas something, in his voice and manner which won my heart at once, andwhen the sad tale was ended I came to understand he had not questionedme idly.

  "My name is Simon Kenton," he said, after a time of silence, as if hewas turning over in mind what I had told him. "The day I was sixteen Itook to the wilderness because of--there is no reason why that part ofit need be told. It was six years ago, an' in those years I've seen agood bit of life on the frontier, though perhaps it would have beenbetter had I gone east an' taken a hand with those who are fightin'against the king. But a soldier's life would raffle my grain, I reckon,so I've held on out here, nearabout Fort Pitt, where there's been plentyto do."

  "Fort Pitt!" I exclaimed. "Why, that's a long distance up the river!"

  "Six hundred miles or so."

  "Are you down here trapping?" I asked, now questioning him as he had me.

  "I'm headin' for Corn Island?"

  "Then you haven't much further to go. Its no more than a dozen milesdown the river."

  "So I guessed. I left my canoe over yonder, an' took to the shore partlyto find somethin' in the way of meat, and partly to have a look around."

  Then it was, and before I could question him further, he told me why hehad come, the substance of which I have already set down in the languageof another. At that time he did not give me the story complete as it waswritten by him whose words I quoted at the beginning of this tale; but Iunderstood the settlers were making a move against the British andIndians, and it seemed to me a most noble undertaking, for, had not theking's officers incited the savages to bloody deeds, the frontier mighthave been a land of peace.

  When he was come to an end of the story, and Simon Kenton was not one touse more words than were necessary, I proposed that he go with me to myhome, for by this time it was near to noon, and I had suddenly lost alldesire to continue the work of setting traps.

  He agreed right willingly, as if it favored his plans to do so, and wetwo went back to the clearing, he moving through the thicket more like ashadow than a stoutly built man whose weight seemed against suchstealthy traveling. Never had I seen such noiseless progress; a squirrelwould have given more token of his presence, and I wondered not that hehad been welcomed at Fort Pitt as a scout, spy, or whatever one mayplease to call his occupation.

  My mother made the young man welcome, as she would have done any I mighthave brought in with me to our home in Pennsylvania, and out here in thewilderness, where we had not seen a strange, yet friendly, face since mypoor father was murdered, she was rejoiced to meet one who might give usnews of the outside world.

  Simon Kenton was not a polished man such as would be met within theeastern colonies; but he gave every token of honest purpose, and it wasimpossible to remain long in his company without believing him to be onewho would be a firm friend at all times.

  We enjoyed his visit more than can be told, and then without warning hebroached that subject which had a great bearing upon all my life fromthat moment.

  "Why do you try to hold your mother here in the wilderness, LouisNelson?" he asked suddenly. "Surely a lad like yourself cannot hope tomake a clearing unaided, and it is but keeping her in great danger of acruel death."

  "What other can I do?" I asked in surprise, having no inkling as to histrue meaning.

  "Take her where she will at least be able to lie down at night withoutfear of being aroused by the gleam of the scalping knife, or the flamesof her own dwelling," he replied decidedly.

  "All we have in the world is here," my mother said half to herself.

  "Then it will not be hard to leave it, for a boy of Louis' age shouldbe able to provide you with as good almost anywhere else."

  I looked at him in open-mouthed astonishment, whereupon he said in sucha tone as forced one to believe he spoke only the truth:

  "We have every reason to believe there will be bloody scenes hereaboutbefore Major Clarke has finished his work. You cannot hope to hold outagainst the painted scoundrels who will roam up and down the river insearch of white blood that can be spilled. Send your mother back to FortPitt by the boats that will soon be returnin', an' join me in thisexpedition. You can go to her in the fall with money enough to provideanother home as good, or better, than this, an' what is of more account,you'll have the satisfaction of knowin' that ate is in safety."

  There is no good reason why I should set down here all the argumentsSimon Kenton used to persuade me to break up the home my father hadestablished, although in poor shape, at the cost of his life, nor yetspeak of his efforts to make my mother believe I would be in less dangerwith Major Clarke's force than if I remained there struggling to makeheadway against the encroachments of the wilderness, at the same timethat I would be forced to remain on the alert lest a pitiless, savagefoe take my life.

  It is enough if I say that before the shadows of night began to lengthenboth my mother and myself were convinced he had given good advice, andwere ready to follow it as soon as a new day had dawned.

  We decided to leave our poor belongings where they were, and set outwith Kenton next morning. Mother should go to Fort Pitt where she wouldbe protected, and I, with the consent of Major Clarke, was to enlist inthe troop which it was believed would drive out of the country thoseunscrupulous British officers who were constantly striving to stir upthe savages against such of the settlers as believed the colonists hadgood cause to rebel against the king.

  Until a late hour did Simon Kenton sit with us two, telling of the manyadventures he had met with since the day he left his home in FauquierCounty, Virginia, six years before, and although the stories related todeeds of daring and hairbreadth escapes, there was in his speech nothingof boasting. It was as if he spoke of what some other person had done,and without due cause for praise.

  Never once did he speak of his reason for leaving home, and there was acertain something in his manner which prevented me from asking anyquestions. He told so much of his life story as seemed to him proper,and we were content, believing him to be a young man of proven courageand honest purposes.

  Kenton and I slept on the skins in front of the fireplace, where I hadever made my bed, and so little fear had we the enemy might be near,that I never so much as looked out of doors after mother went up theladder which led to the rough attic she called her chamber.

  It was the first time since my father's cruel death that I had notcircled around the cabin once or more to make certain everything wasquiet; the coming of this young man had driven from my mind all thoughtof possible danger.

  Those who live on the frontier sleep lightly, it is true; but they donot waste much time in tossing about on the bed before closing theireyes in slumber--and I was in dreamland within a very few moments afterstretching out at full length.

  It seemed as if I had but ju
st lost consciousness when I awakened tofind a heavy hand covering my mouth, and to hear Simon Kenton whisper:

  "There is need for us to turn out. The sneakin' redskins have surroundedthe cabin. Are you awake?"

  I nodded, for it would have been impossible to speak while his hand waslike to shut off my breath, and he rose softly to his feet.

  It is not necessary for me to say that we on the Ohio in 1778 thoughtfirst in the morning of our rifles, and never lay down at night withouthaving the trusty weapons where we could grasp them readily. Thus it wasthat, when I followed Kenton's example, I rose up ready for a struggle.

  Not a sound could I hear, save the soughing of the wind among the trees;but I knew my companion had good cause for giving an alarm, and hadprobably been on the alert while I was composing myself to sleep.

  "Get word to your mother; but do not let her come down here," hewhispered when I joined him at the shuttered window, where he stood withhis ear to the crevice. "Make no noise, an' it may be we can take thepainted snakes by surprise, which will be a fine turnin' of thetables."

  I did as he directed, and heard my mother say in a low voice as I turnedto descend the ladder:

  "Be careful, Louis, and do not expose yourself recklessly in order togive our visitor the idea that you can equal him in deeds of daring."

  Under almost any other circumstances I could have laughed at the ideathat I might even hope to equal such as Simon Kenton in bravery; butwith death lurking close at hand one does not give way to mirth, and Ihastened to the young man's side as a prayer of thankfulness went upfrom my heart because it had so chanced he was with us when anexperienced head and arm were needed.

  It is not my purpose to belittle myself. While looking up to our visitoras an elder and one well versed in such warfare as was before us, I knewfull well I should not have acted a stupid part had I been alone. Imight fail to hold my own against the savages; but death would not havebeen invited by my own folly.

  The door, as well as the window shutters, was loopholed, and here Kentontook his stand, stationing me at that side of the house nearest theknoll, from where we might naturally expect the enemy would come.

  My mother appeared before we had made all the arrangements for a fight,and at once set about supplying us with ammunition and food in orderthat we might not be forced to move from our posts in quest of either.

  Then she took up my father's rifle, which was leaning against the sideof the hut nearest me, as if to show that it was her purpose to dowhatsoever lay in her power toward the defense, whereupon Kenton shookhis head disapprovingly, and might have made objection to being aided bya woman; but before he could open his lips to speak the painted fiendswere upon us.

  With whoops and yells they rose up close under the walls of the cabin,where we might not be able to draw bead upon them, and at the sameinstant a volley of rifle shots rang out as three bullets came insidebetween the crevices of the logs.