Stories of Old Kentucky Part 7

About an hour before sunset they discovered some Indians preparing a meal from a buffalo. When Captain Estill fired his gun, the Indians fled, and had it not been that their leader was wounded, the retreat would have been permanent and the battle of Little Mountain would never have been fought. With almost superhuman strength the chieftain dragged himself to a place of safety and with a defiance that meant death he commanded his warriors who were too loyal to retreat without their wounded leader. There, in a s.p.a.ce not more than two hundred yards in diameter, was fought one of the world's fiercest battles.

On the one hand there were twenty-five Wyandot warriors who defied death. On the other side there were twenty-five pioneers, aroused to vengeance by the cruelties the red men had visited upon them. Well did they obey the command of Estill, "Every man to his man, and every man to his tree." At one time in the fiercest of the fight, the rallying tones of confidence rang out above the crack of the rifles as Monk, who was still held prisoner by the savages, shouted, "Don't give way, Ma.s.sa Jim, you can whip the redskins."

For nearly two hours the combat lasted, neither side advancing nor retreating. But when Captain Estill sent Lieutenant William Miller with six men to gain the rear of the enemy, that seven ingloriously fled and then the savages began to gain on the whites. Finally Captain Estill and a brawny Indian clutched in mortal combat. For a time their strength seemed equal, but Estill's broken arm giving way, the savage instantly plunged a knife into his breast and a moment later, pierced by a bullet from Joseph Proctor's unerring gun, fell dead across his victim's body.

There the battle ended, the pioneers taking their wounded comrades and leaving the dead upon the field. Proctor carried one, a Mr. Irvine, a great distance of forty miles upon his back, while the faithful Monk carried another. A few days later a party of whites visited the scene and buried their dead. The Indians had carefully removed their slain but left the whites unmolested. Wallace Estill, Monk's young master, gave him his freedom and cared for him the remainder of his life. He lived to a ripe old age and was the father of thirty children.

The little city of Mount Sterling is near the battleground where such heroism was displayed by both savage and civilian.

THE DOUBLE SHOT

Daniel Boone, the famous hunter, fighter, and pioneer, regarded himself as a special agent intended by providence to convert forests into fields and to carry civilization to the wilderness. When we remember his many exciting adventures and marvelous successes, we are inclined almost to believe that he was a child of destiny.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He took aim at the foremost."]

One of the most singular experiences in his warfare on the savages occurred about 1780, when about two miles south of Owingsville. Boone was making one of his solitary journeys from Boonesborough to the Upper Blue Licks. As he came near a deserted station about twelve miles east of the present site of Mount Sterling, he perceived fresh signs of Indians; so he continued his journey cautiously until he came to a clear spring near the bank of Slate Creek. Here, as he was quenching his thirst, a ball whistled by and broke the bark from the beech that shaded the spring. Boone lost no time in reaching the creek, swimming to the opposite bank, and concealing himself in a convenient canebrake. He then cautiously parted the cane until he had gone about one hundred yards, when he observed two Indians coming warily towards the creek. He had slain so many savages that he was not satisfied with the thought of killing one of his adversaries, but determined that one shot should kill both. He therefore took aim at the foremost and as the other came in range he fired; and as one fell dead, the other, dropping his gun, fled with frantic yells of pain, for the ball had pa.s.sed through the body of one and struck the other's shoulder.

Boone then very calmly crossed the creek, selected one of the guns left by the savages, threw the other in the creek, where it was found afterwards, and proceeded on his way to the Blue Licks.

A MAN OF STRATEGY AND SAGACITY

His father having died when he was only fourteen, Benjamin Logan found himself, according to the laws of Virginia, at the head of a family, and in possession of his father's estate. With his mother's consent he sold the land and divided the proceeds among his brothers and sisters. Since he wished to see his mother comfortably settled, he united funds with that of a brother and bought a small home, which was secured to her during her life.

Bidding his mother farewell, he soon made for himself a home on the Holston River. Here he remained a few years and after having served with both Colonel Bouquet and Colonel Dunmore in the expeditions against the Indians, resolved to try the western wilds of Kentucky. With two or three slaves, he came, traversed a great part of the wilderness with Boone and Henderson, and pitched his camp and built his fort in Lincoln County near the present city of Stanford. Bringing out his family the next year, he deemed it prudent to place them in the more securely fortified Harrodstown. But early in 1777 feeling more a.s.surance of safety, he removed all his household to his new home.

Early in the morning of May 20, while some of the men were guarding the women as they were outside milking, Indians fired on them from a near-by canebrake. All fled toward the fort, but one of the white men fell dead, another was mortally wounded, and a third, Burr Harrison, was severely crippled. There were now only twelve fighting men to defend the fort, while the enemy numbered one hundred. Harrison ran staggering towards the fort, when he fell and lay all day within range of the rifles of the Indians, and in sight of his agonized wife; her pleas for help and cries of distress, as from her own place of safety she saw her husband wounded and helpless, touched the sympathy and tried the heroism of all.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Amid a shower of arrows they entered the gate."]

All hesitated until twilight came, and it grew so dark the Indians could not distinguish objects moving around the stockade. As there were a great many large hogs in the vicinity, Logan covered himself with a small feather bed, made from the feathers of the numerous wild pigeons, turkeys, and geese, and leaving the gate crept hither and thither, on all fours, grunting and acting as if in search of something to eat.

Finally he reached Harrison, apparently by accident. He suddenly seized him in his arms, sprang to his feet, and darted toward the fort before the surprised Indians sufficiently recovered to take sure aim. Amid a shower of bullets and arrows he and Harrison entered the gate in safety.

Enraged at the deception practiced upon them, the Indians vigorously a.s.saulted the fort, while the inmates as vigorously defended it. Under Logan's lead they resolved to fight to the last, but the powder and ball began to run low. What should be done? These men, made of "sterner stuff," faced another danger. If the siege was continued, they must perish or procure ammunition.

Again the heroism of Logan shone forth. a.s.suring his wife and friends of a safe and speedy return, he, with two trusty companions, under the cover of the night, left the fort. They crept through the Indian lines, avoided the regular route through c.u.mberland Gap, rapidly traversed mountains and valleys, crossed rivers, pushed through brush and cane, reached the Holston, procured "powder and ball," and on the tenth night Logan reentered the fort, having traveled more than three hundred miles.

His companions soon arrived with the ammunition, reenforcements were brought, and the Indians retired.

THE KIND-HEARTED INDIAN

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Mr. Rowan turned the b.u.t.t of his gun."]

About 1784, a party of pioneers left the Falls of the Ohio with the intention of descending the river. Reaching Yellow Banks, the boat stopped for a while. One of the party, a Mr. Rowan, taking a loaded gun, but no ammunition, wandered some distance from the sh.o.r.e and upon his return was astonished to find the boat gone. The crew had cause to believe a party of Indians was near, so hastened away without waiting for their comrade. The nearest settlement was at Vincennes, one hundred miles distant. So thither Mr. Rowan bent his steps until after three weary days of exposure and exhaustion he abandoned all hope and lay down to die. It was not long, however, before, hearing the report of a gun, he again took courage, rose, and made his way in the direction of the sound. When he came in sight, an Indian raised his gun to fire, but, seeing Mr. Rowan turn the b.u.t.t of his gun, knew he meant to be friendly; so with a politeness that would have done honor to a civilian the savage promptly turned the b.u.t.t of his also.

Learning the dest.i.tute condition of Rowan, the Indian hospitably took him to his wigwam, cared for him until his strength was restored, and then conducted him to Vincennes. Anxious to reward such unusual kindness, Rowan tried to prevail on the savage to accept a gift of $300; of this the Indian n.o.bly refused every penny, but in order to please his recent guest finally accepted a new blanket, saying, "When I wrap myself in it, I will think of you."

SAVED BY THE HUG OF A BEAR

Though the records of pioneer life teem with startling encounters with wild animals, there really occurred a very unusual incident, when the life of a young man, named Downing, was saved by the hug of a bear.

In those early days, the people of that part of the country that is now Kentucky had to content themselves with very rough cabins and forts for their families, and with no outbuildings or inclosures whatever for their stock.

Instead of well-kept stables and excellent pastures, the stockade protected the cows, sheep, and horses at night, and the near-by forest was their home and grazing ground during the day. Although as close watch as possible was kept over these animals, they sometimes strayed so far away that it was necessary to bring them back or the Indians would take them for their own.

In the year 1786, in what is now Bath County, a horse had strayed off, and a young man named Yates requested another occupant of the fort, a mere lad named Downing, to go with him in search of the animal.

They traversed the woods in every direction all day, but in vain. About sundown, when nearly seven miles from the fort, in a wild valley, Downing became very anxious concerning sounds that seemed to follow his footsteps regardless of the direction he took. He repeatedly said that he heard sticks breaking and that he believed Indians were following them.

Yates, who was older, more experienced, and more inured to the perils of frontier life, laughed heartily at the fears of his companion, often inquired at what price he rated his scalp, and jokingly offered to insure it at a sixpence.

Oblivious to all danger, enjoying the discomfort of his companion, and wishing to display his daring, Yates began a rollicking tune as he boldly pa.s.sed along; but young Downing, feeling "the better part of valor is discretion," and being sure from the ominous sounds that they were being followed, decided to discover if possible the hidden foe. He gradually slackened his pace, until his companion was about twenty or thirty yards in advance; then just after descending a small hill, Downing quickly stepped from the path and secreted himself behind some bushes. He was horrified a few moments later to see two Indians cautiously put aside the canebrake and peer in the direction taken by his companion.

Downing, fearful lest the savages knew his own hiding place, decided to fire upon them at once; but his hand was so unsteady from the excitement, that his gun went off before he took aim. Terror-stricken he fled in the direction taken by his friend, whom he soon met, returning to learn the cause of the firing. There was no need to inquire, for in full view the two savages were rapidly pursuing them.

True Kentucky chivalry was soon evident, for though he could easily have saved himself, Yates would not outrun his young companion, but kept by his side.

It so happened that a path diverged from the one taken by the whites, but rejoined it at a distant point. Knowing the country well, the Indians took this divergent path, expecting to intercept the pioneers at the point of reunion. Pa.s.sing this point in safety, the white men soon came to a deep gully. Mr. Yates easily cleared it, but his companion, being very much exhausted, fell against the farther bank and rolled at full length to the bottom. He gave himself up for lost. Over went the two Indians like deer, so intent upon catching the foremost man they apparently did not notice Downing.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The bear growled and hugged him close."]

For a while fear kept him still, but finally thinking the Indians were far away, the young man walked to the shallow part of the ditch. Just as he reached a place so shallow that he was no longer concealed, to his astonishment and dismay he beheld one of the savages returning, apparently in search of him.

Having neglected to reload his gun, and seeing the Indian advancing upon him, he threw it away and again trusted to flight. The white man ran and the Indian ran. It was a race for life, but as they ascended the long ridge, so steadily did the Indian gain upon him that when Downing ran along one side of a big fallen poplar, the Indian pa.s.sed along the other, evidently expecting to seize him at the upturned root. However, just there lay a huge mother bear and her cubs. So rapidly was the Indian running that by the time he had discovered Mrs. Bruin, she had discovered him; and though his salutation was an exclamation of horror and a plunge of his great knife, the bear only growled and hugged him close.

So happy was Downing over this timely meeting of his two enemies, that he joyfully fled to the fort, where he found his companion resting from his exciting race. Those in the fort soon received a vivid account of how Downing's life, providentially, had been saved by the hug of a bear.

A KENTUCKIAN DEFEATED THE BRITISH

There was born in Virginia, on November 19, 1752, a light-haired, blue-eyed baby boy who was destined to become the founder of our commonwealth, the father of Kentucky, and the captor of England's important outposts.