be appreciated by us of this generation who enjoy in peace the fruits of their sufferings.
While the United States were British Colonies, and Kentucky and Ohio still were primeval in their solitudes, filled with Indians, and wholly destitute of white inhabitants, these two heroic men, Boone and Kenton, as if moved by the finger of Providence, left the shades of civilization, entire strangers to each other, and ventured into the midst of a boundless wilderness, neither having any knowledge of the purpose or movement of the other. Boone led the way from North Carolina, crossed the mountains, and entered the valley of Kentucky in 1769; Kenton followed from Virginia, in 1773. The former emigrated from choice, to gratify his natural taste, after full deliberation, and after having calculated the consequences. Not so with Kenton; he fled to the wilderness to escape the penalty of a supposed crime. He had, unfortunately, become involved in a quarrel with a young man of his neighborhood, with whom he had lived in habits of great intimacy and friendship, and, as he supposed, had killed him in a personal conflict. To avoid the consequences of that imaginary homicide, and to escape, if possible, from the distress of his own feelings, he left home and friends, without waiting to ascertain the result. Unaccompanied by any human being, he crossed the mountains and descended into the valley of the Big Kanawha, under the assumed name of Simon Butler. He retained that name several years, until he received information that the friend whom he supposed had fallen under his hand, had recovered from the blow, and was alive and in health. He then resumed his proper name, and disclosed the reason which had led him to assume that of Butler; but a love for the wild life to which he had exiled himself had now taken such strong hold of him that he made no effort to return to the ties from which he had so hastily fled.
It is a matter of regret that so small a portion of the achievements of this interesting man have been perpetuated. This may be accounted for by the fact that so large a portion of his life was spent in the wilderness, either in solitude, or associated with others of the same adventurous cast with himself; and it explains the reason why we are not only without a connected record of his life, but have so few of its isolated transactions preserved. It is known, however, that, after he joined the adventurers in the district of Kentucky, about two years before the Declaration of American Independence, he engaged in most of the battles and skirmishes between the white inhabitants and the savages which followed, during 1774 to 1783. He became an enterprising leader in most of the expeditions against the Indian towns north-west of the Ohio. These conflicts, indeed, continued during the long period of twenty years, intervening between their commencement and the decisive victory of "Mad Anthony" Wayne at the rapids of the Maumee, in August, 1794, which was followed by the celebrated treaty of Greenville, and peace to the afflicted border. Kenton was always considered one of the boldest and most active defenders of the western country, from the commencement of its settlement until the close of Indian hostilities. In all their battles and expeditions he took a conspicuous part. He was taken prisoner several times and conveyed to the Shawnee towns, but in every instance he made his escape and returned to his friends.
On one occasion he was captured when on an expedition against the Wabash (Miami) villages, and taken to one of the remote Indian towns, where a council was held to decide on his fate. Again he was fated to endure one of their cruel and peculiar modes of inflicting punishment. He was painted black, tied to a stake, and suffered to remain in this painful position for twenty-four hours, anticipating the horrors of a slow and cruel death, by starvation or fire. He was next condemned to run the gauntlet. The Indians, several hundred in number, of both sexes, and every age and rank, armed with switches, sticks, bludgeons and other implements of assault, were formed in two lines, between which the unhappy prisoner was made to pass; being promised that, if he reached the door of the council-house, at the further end of the lines, no further punishment would be inflicted. He accordingly ran, with all the speed of which his debilitated condition rendered him capable, dreadfully beaten by the savages as he passed, and had nearly reached the goal, when he was knocked down by a warrior with a club; and the demoniac set, gathering around the prostrate body, continued to beat him until life appeared to be nearly extinguished.
In this wretched condition, naked, lacerated and exhausted, he was marched from town to town, exhibited, tortured, often threatened to be burned at the stake, and compelled frequently to run the gauntlet. On one of these occasions he attempted to make his escape, broke through the ranks of his torturers, and had outstripped those who pursued him, when he was met by some warriors on horseback, who compelled him to surrender. After running the gauntlet in thirteen towns, he was taken to the Wyandot town of Lower Sandusky, in Ohio, to be burned. Here resided the white miscreant, Simon Girty, who, having just returned from an unsuccessful expedition against the frontiers of Pennsylvania, was in a particularly bad humor. Hearing that there was a white prisoner in town, the renegade rushed upon him, struck him, beat him to the ground, and was proceeding to further atrocities, when Kenton had the presence of mind to call him by name and claim his protection. They had known each other in their youth; Kenton had once saved the life of Girty; and deaf as was the latter, habitually, to every dictate of benevolence, he admitted the claim of his former acquaintance. Actuated by one of those unaccountable caprices common among savages, he interceded for him, rescued him from the stake, and took him to his own house, where, in a few days, the prisoner recovered his strength. Some of the chiefs, however, became dissatisfied; another council was held, the former decree was reversed, and Kenton was again doomed to the stake.
From this extremity he was rescued by the intercession of Drewyer, a British agent, who, having succeeded in obtaining his release, carried him to Detroit, where he was received by the British commander as a prisoner of war. From that place he made his escape, in company with two other Americans; and, after a march of thirty days through the wilderness, continually exposed to recapture, had the good fortune to escape all perils, and to reach the settlements of Kentucky in safety.
Hall, from whose sketches of the West we have gathered this account of his running the gauntlet, states that all those horrors were endured upon the occasion of his captivity following his Mazeppa-like ride, although Burnet, in his "Notes," speaks of it as upon another and a future occasion.
After the fall of Kaskaskia, which took place in 1778, and in the expedition against which Kenton took an active part, he was sent with a small party to Kentucky with dispatches. On their way the rangers fell in with a camp of Indians, in whose possession were a number of horses, which the daring fellows took and sent back to the army, then in great need of the animals.
Pursuing their way by Vincennes, they entered that French-Indian town at night, traversed several of the streets, and departed without being discovered, taking from the inhabitants two horses to each man. When they came to White river, a raft was made on which to cross, while the horses were driven in to swim the river. On the opposite shore a party of Indians was encamped, who caught the horses as they ascended the bank. Such are the vicissitudes of border incident! The same horses which had been audaciously taken only the night before from the interior of a regularly garrisoned town, were lost by being accidentally driven by their captors into a camp of the enemy! Kenton and his party, finding themselves in the utmost danger, returned to the shore from which they had pushed their raft, and concealed themselves until night, when they crossed the river at a different place, reaching Kentucky in safety.
The expedition against Kaskaskia was one of the earliest made by the Americans beyond the Ohio. This place, as well as the posts upon the Lakes, was then in possession of the British, with whom we were at war. Being one of the points from which the Indians were supplied with ammunition, and thus enabled to harass the settlements in Kentucky, its capture was considered so important that the legislature of Virginia were induced to raise a regiment for the purpose. The command was given to Colonel George Rogers Clarke, the young military hero, to whom, more than to any other one person, Kentucky owes her successful foundation as a State. He was, as a military leader, what Kenton was as a scout and skirmisher—one of those men who seemed raised up, providentially, to master great difficulties.
The story of the campaign by which he took Kaskaskia is one of the most interesting of our border experiences. With two or three hundred men, mostly raised in Virginia, he crossed the mountains to the Monongahela, and descended by water to the Falls of the Ohio, where he was joined by some volunteers from Kentucky, among whom was Simon Kenton. After a halt of a few days to refresh his men, he proceeded down the Ohio to the neighborhood