Norton - The Days of Daniel Boone (1883)

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The rope, pierced by a bullet, snapped in twain. N i
)KJ, a."i.
THE
DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE
A ROMANCE
OF
THE DARK AND BLOODY GROUND."
BY
FRANK H. NORTON.
'
Manners, Morals, Customs change : the Passions are always the same."
HUB. DC FLAHAUT.
NEW YORK:
THK AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY
39 & 41 CHAMBERS STREET.
COPVKIOBI, 1883,
AMERICAN NEWS
PREFACE.
THE subject of American History has been, com'

paratively, but little drawn upon to form a basis for
American Fiction.
Yet, a little reflection will show that the history of

no other country offers more obvious or more frequent
opportunities for just such application ;
and it is mat-
ter for surprise that American romance writers have
not more generally utilized the archives of their coun-
try in their professional work.

In the present volume, the author has entered this
promising field, selecting for his subject a character, a

section of country, and a period of which but little is
generally known to American readers.
In undertaking to write a Romance of the Life and

Times of Daniel Boone, the author's design has not
been to write history. This explanation is necessary
forsuoh persons only as are accustomed to glean their
knowledge of the history of France from Alexandei

Dumas ptre and Charles Lever ;
and that of Germany
from Miss Muhlbach.
To cater to any such misconception of the real uses
of this class of literary work, is not the purpose of His

torical Fiction.
On the contrary, while the author has in many in-
(3)
4 PREFACE.
stances in the course of his work employed actual his-

torical occurrences and personages, it has been, design-
edly, in such wise that the reader should not be able
to discern where the truth ended and the fiction began.
The purpose has been in this narrative to interest
he reader in the character of Daniel Boone, by pictut
ing him as he is authentically presented by history

associated with events, historical or fictitious, always
regarding the possibilities if not the probabilities of his

life ; but always holding the chief object to be the
amusement and not the instruction of the reader,
While, therefore, historical facts when given have been

given accurately and while Boone himself, and other
;
personages who were actually associated with his life,
have been described, and their characters and acts set
forth, as nearly as was practicable, with historic truth :
the reader is desired to remember that this is a Romance,

bearing the same relation in literature to the facts of
history, that in art is borne by the artist's painting of
an historical composition, in its relation to the occur
rence it is meant to signify rather than to depict.
Deprecating no just and reasonable criticism of his
work, the highest praise of its construction to which

the author's ambition aspires, may be best indicated by
the Italian expression
" Se non I vero, I ben trovato."
FRANK H. NORTON.
EDOEWATER-ON-THE-HUDSOH
October, 1883.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
In which the Reader introduced to Daniel Boone, and is made ac-

is
quainted with the condition of his Majesty's Colony of North Carolina,

in the year of our Lord 1768, 13
CHAPTER II.
Wherein Boone becomes the guest of Judge Anderson, and an important

matter is considered and which presents Rafe Slaughter to the Reader,
;
as a character not unworthy of study, 28
CHAPTER III.
In which Judge Anderson elucidates his designs, without affording any

material information either to Boone or to the Reader while Rafe;
Slaughter demonstrates himself after his kind, and the hunter at length
sets his face homeward, 44
CHAPTER IV.
How Dar.iel Boone falls in with one of the Regulators, and what happens.
.......59
Disclosing, moreover, the fact that there
value the weight of words,
is nothing so easy as to over-
CHAPTER V.
In which the Reader is introduced to the hero and heroine of this story
as well as to some other important personages, 5
CHAPTER VI.
How Daniel Boone disappeared, and how the most important characters
in our narrative were set searching for him, and with what success ; with
a bin* at a romance to be hereinafter further developed, . . .90
CHAPTER VII.
Harry Calvert, being formally introduced to the Reader by way of his an-
tecedents, leads his party to Hillsborough. Stephen Roberts sustains
his reputation for argumentative capacity, and Mike Dooley succeeds in
treeing the coon, 105

(5)
6 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
the story progresses a material step forward, ......

Wherein the Reader becomes the witness to an exciting engagement, and
1(9
CHAPTER IX.
Christmas Eve and a Christmas present. With some reflections on the
philosophy of the tender passion, and illustrations from the characters
ol this story. Concluding with a catastrophe, and the downfall of
"great expectations," . 133
CHAPTER X.
Harry Calvert comes to a determination, and the Christmas festivities at
Mount Mourne to an abrupt conclusion. A family disturbance and a
sudden severing of family ties, 153
CHAPTER XI.
In which Stephen Roberts appears upon the scene for an instant, to the
present horror of the Reader, and for the thickening of the mystery
which begins to enfold the characters of this story, .
167 .
CHAPTER XII.
Showing how the Regulators had occupied their time, and disclosing the
result of Harry Calvert's visit to his Plantation. With some relation of
a journey made to Judge Anderson, and what had happened there, .
176
CHAPTER XIII.
A Tery long chapter, in which certain of the characters begin the practice
of pioneer life in earnest. The Reader makes a third in a discussion on
moral philosophy, which is interrupted by a very sudden and unexpected
occurrence, and Mike Dooley increases his knowledge of Natural History, 196
CHAPTER XIV.
The party of amateur explorers receives an unexpected addition to its num-
bers, and Rose once more experiences a collision with a piece of paper,
which is not without its own importance, 219
CHAPTER XV
Vv*hich signifies that amateur exploring is not without its dangers as well
as its delights, and introduces the Reader to the noble red mail as he
appeared when on the war-path in the year of grace 1771, . . . 231
CHAPTER XVI.
Wherein the Reader is present at an interview between two important per-
sonages, and witnesses a very impressive and eventful and conclusive
scene in the life of one of them, . . ... . 348
CONTENTS. 7
CHAPTER XVII.
Judge Anderson works out a serious problem in abstract reasoning to a cor-
rect conclusion, through an incorrect process, 263
CHAPTER XVIII.
In which the hapless condition of Squire and Lady O'Brien offers a lesson
of charity and patience and the Squire, himself, concludes that he is
;
being involved in the meshes of a network of mystery, . . . 873
CHAPTER XIX.
fa which Judge Anderson and Squire O'Brien conclude to go West to look
after their several interests and the Reader is permitted to assist at the
;
discussion of a communication which recalls the suggestion that "the

evil that men do lives after them," 389
CHAPTER XX.
In which Daniel Boone and Harry reappear, and the hunter quotes Script-
ure. The casting of the bread of kindness upon the waters of accident,
isamong the seed planted in the wilderness, to bring; forth fruit " after
many days "; and, Squire Boone having kept his appointment, the chain
of events goes on unfolding, yx
CHAPTER XXI.
A "Chapter of Accidents." Capture of Boone's party, and all three in
danger of a permanent loss of liberty, through an impending matrimo-
nial catastrophe which is providentially averted,
; 310
CHAPTER XXII.
The beginning of Rafe Slaughter has presentiments
the end. and
Maude finds herself unexpectedly in possession of an important secret.
A night-surprise followed by another, and Daniel Boone is heard from
with very decisive results. Traitors in the camp and out of it, .
321
CHAPTER XXIII.
The death of Indian John. The mode is changed, giving an op-
of travel
portunity for reflection, which is taken advantage of by certain of the
characters of our story. The travelers reach the last stage of their
journey, 34*
CHAPTER XXIV.
Amid the sublimest efforts of Nature, in rugged rock and riven mountain-
chain, our travelers pursue their way, joyfully. Then, all is changed ;
and lingering by the bank of a chance stream, the blow falls their hap- ;
piness is turned to mourning, and Rafe Slaughter's premonitions come

to pass, 358
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XXV.
In which Rafe Slaughter's last will and testament is read and the produc-
;
tion am! perusal of certain oilier documents, explain some of the myste-
ries which have infested this narrative. The murderer plays his last
card, and, failing of success, exposes certain complications of interest.

The friends of Rafe Slaughter bid him farewell, . . . . . 368
CHAPTER XXVI.
fhe return of the adventurers. A sad
meeting, but a warm greeting. Bat-
tles are fought over againthe past is related the present is enjoyed,
; ;
and the happiness of at least two of the party is secured for the future, 387
CHAPTER XXVII.
" On Watauga." Daniel Boone appears in a new character, and the Reader
present on an important historical occasion. The narrative fittingly
is
concludes at the grav* of one of its chief personages, .... jgg

THE DAYS
OF
CHAPTER I.
In which the Reader is introduced to Daniel Boone, and Is made acquainted
with the condition of his Majesty's Colony of North Carolina, in the year
of our Lord 1768.
" "
THEN yer won't jine us ?
"
No, Harmon ; I don't think it would be so to
speak consistent."
"Consistent ? what's that ?"
"
Well, yer see, the Judge is a kind of a friend of mine,
an' I haven't not quite the notion that I could go
agin him in a matter where the law's with him."

"
Yer makin' a mistake, Dan'l, an' it'll mayhap be
the worse fur yer."
The speaker, as he said this, looked significantly at
several men who stood near by, and who seemed to be
scanning the two who were conversing.

His companion turned his eyes in the same direction
and gazed for a moment then he smiled, and lifting
;
the rifle which had been held loosely in his hand,
brought it to his shoulder, turning entirely about as

he did so, and discharged it in the air. Those standing
near looked to see what was being shot, and a hawk
d3)
I 4 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
fellfrom somewhere, seemingly out of sight, to a point
a few yards distant from the marksman.
" Yer must have eyes in the top of yer head, Dan'l,
to have seen that fellow, for go bail yer never turned."
I
He "
was reloading his gun and merely said One :
feeFs a critter near him, after much living in the open

Injins, b'ars, an* sich and I kinder hate hawks." And
quietly shouldering his rifle he strode across the green.
He was a tall man, in the first prime of life, strongly
but not heavily built ;
his face and neck bronzed by
constant exposure to the weather ;

his movements not
rapid, but firm and apparently wary. His countenance
was attractive, though somewhat stern and somber. He
was dressed buckskin hunting-suit, to his belt be-
in a
ing attached a sheath in which was his dangerous-look-

ing long hunting-knife, while from his shoulder hung
his powder-horn and bullet-pouch.
The first impression that his appearance would make
upon the mind of the observer, would be that of confi
dence ;
the next, of reticence.
His companion was a thick-set, red-faced man of
forty-five years, or thereabouts, with closely-cropped

hair, and features strongly marked partly by evil pas
sions, partly by the results of dissipation. Remaining
still for a moment after the other had left him, and
observing his tall form as it moved lightly across the
grass, he gave vent to an oath then he joined the ;
party who had been regarding these two.

"Well, Harmon Cox, what says he?" cried one of
these, a slim man, with iron-gray hair and pallid features.
DANIEL BOONE. 15
" He says he'll have naught to do with you nor yer

ways, an' be damned to him. An' he says more, ye're
no better than Injins and b'ars, and a heap worse nor
hawks "; and so speaking, he kicked the carcass of the
dead bird which lay before him, and looked to see what
the others thought of his message.
The three or four men whom he had joined were all
armed, and all clad in various kinds of homespun

various as to antiquity and consequent tint relieved
occasionally by the presence of a buckskin hunting-

shirt, trimmed with a fringe of the same.
They were all preoccupied in their manner, and their
faces wore a stern and determined expression, as though

they contemplated some action of import, either in the
past or in the future. Among them the one who had
questioned Harmon Cox appeared to be in authority,
and the others regarded him curiously after the deliv-
ery of the lying speech which Cox had given as that of
the tall hunter.
"
Did he say that ?" queried the elder man.
The other looked away, and spat on the ground, as
he answered "
: Didn't I say so ? I ain't before the
Judge, an' I ain't answerable for every word, but it was

nigh to that as one could remember."
" It ain't like ;
Dan l to talk like that ere," put in a
red-headed young man who was amusing himself throw-
ing his hunting-knife into a tree before him.

"Ain't it like him?" sneered the other. "Well,
then, he's been talkin' to me onlike himself, for I swar
he used every word Injin, an' b'ar, an' hawk."
16 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
The elder man had been looking and listening ; no\*
"
he said Harmon, he may have said the words, but I
:
misdoubt if he ever used them after that fashion but ;
since he's against us and it's easy to see that's so

why, he'll have to take the chances."
" An'
that's jest exactly what I told him."
*
The period was the year of our Lord 1768. The

scene was the town of Hillsborough, in the province
of North Carolina, of the North American Colonies of
"
hisMajesty George the Third, by the grace of God
King of Great Britain and Ireland." King, also, by
" the "
accident of an accident of such secondary mat-
ters as a baker's dozen of broad provinces three thou-
sand miles across the ocean, and another baker's dozen

of millions of loyal subjects thereunto pertaining.
George the Third was King in England, and Louis

the Fifteenth was King in France. The one an obsti-
nate imbecile, destined to plunge his country into irre-
and die miserably at last, a hopeless

trievable disaster,
lunatic the other an infamous and degraded sensual-

;
ist, who robbed his people that his pleasures might be

sustained, and who perished, victim to a loathsome dis-
ease, while his subjects held gleeful festivities in honor

of his departure from the world he had disfigured.
These two Kings swayed all of North America that
had as yet been bought, stolen, or wrested from the
native Indian owners. They were men who, in the
ordinary walks of life, would have attracted literally no

attention ;
save that one might have perished a drunken
DANIEL BOONE. i
;
vagabond in the slums of Havre or Marseilles and the ;
other have comfortably passed his existence as a Cheap-

side haberdasher, and retained the limited senses which
had been granted him until he died in his bed respected
and forgotten.
Such are the wonderful dispensations of Providence.
Had George III. and Louis XV. been different from
what they were, the political and social complexion of
Europe and America would have been widely different
from what they are. But such as they were, they had
already succeeded in turning their loyal North Amer-
ican subjects into a grumbling, unhappy, and rebellious
people, in which condition, and for various direct and
subordinate reasons, the good folks of the province of
North Carolina, were seething and boiling
especially,
at the time when the present narrative begins. It was
March, 1768, and court was to be held in the town of

Hillsborough.
Here, in the midst of the more thickly populated
part of the province, the usually scattered settlement
had drawn and the outlying farms cen-
closer together,
tered upon the market-place, and the small, low build-

ing where court was held. It was a quiet, peaceful
town, where, usually, nothing more exciting than
little
the ordinary farm gossip disturbed the community ;
but where, on this March morning, there appeared to

be that stirring, which, judging from the gloomy and
in some instances savage countenances about, might
presently waken a storm.

Lounging about the court-house, the school-house
on the other side of the Common, and the store where
Roderick McCandless dispensed his wares, were col-
lected in groups of from five to twenty, quite three hun-

dred people. They were nearly all men, clad in home-
spun, some with short stock-whips in their hands, a few

with the customary flint-lock rifle, while variety was
given to the scene by a half-dozen plainly-clad women,

who stood apart, in animated conversation. Within the
small room which was sacred to the sessions of the Cir-
cuit Court, were to be seen standing in groups, or look-
ing out of window, a number of persons whose appear-
ance betokened a higher position in life than would
have been expected from that of the populace without.
Conspicuous among them, seated on a slightly raised
platform, was a man of marked presence, and who was
obviously a person of eminence in the community.
This man was Col. Richard Anderson, Judge of the
Superior Court of North Carolina, who had come to

Hillsborough to hold court. Those about him were
the leading farmers of the neighborhood, court officials,
sheriff, tax-gatherers, and others of the more well-to-do
of the population.
They were all engaged in earnest though desultory

conversation, and as in the case of those without the
building, seemed impressed with the serious nature

all
of the questions which were under discussion.

Not to be too historical in our relation, it may be
briefly stated that for several years matters in North

Carolina had been approaching a culmination of out-
break which was now immediately threatening The con-
DANIEL BOONE. 19
trol of public affairs in the hands of the royalist officials
had become obnoxious to a large proportion of the

population, and the aspect had been growing constantly
more threatening. As is common in colonies and in
new countries in general, appointments to high office,
with vast opportunity for doing public injury, had been

vested in persons of unscrupulous character, only too
willing to avail themselves of such opportunities when-

ever offered.Minor positions had been similarly filled
by the creatures and tools of those who appointed
them, and the result had become so distasteful to the
poorer inhabitants, as to awaken a spirit of bitter re-
sentment against their oppressors.
An additional occasion for popular ill-feeling at this
period, was the fact that the greater part of the wealth
of the Colony was in the. hands of these objectionable
officials, or in those of the Scotch and other traders
and store-keepers, between whom and the farmers and
hunters there was always debt, and consequently al-
ways ill-blood.
Besides, these traders and others lived in a style
quite beyond the ability of the mass of the people,

indulging in luxuries unknown to them, and thereby
constantly awakening jealousies which had at length

turned ta pure hatred, and now only needed an inci-
dent and an opportunity for dangerous manifestation.
It was to the very center and hot-bed of all this ma-
lignant sentiment thatJudge Anderson had come to

hold the regular court and the presence of far more
;
than the usual number of loungers about the court

house, as well as the appearance of a threatening de-

meanor in the case of most of them, may also be thue
accounted for.
The hunter who had been spoken to by the name of

"
Dan'l," had directed his steps toward the court-house
after the incident we have recounted, but he was stopped
and addressed by several on his way, and so it chanced
that the pallid man with iron-gray hair, who had ques-
tioned Harmon Cox, reached that point before him.
Entering the open door, this man threaded his way

through the groups standing about, until he faced
Judge Anderson. At the same moment it might have
been observed that there was a general movement
among all the men on the green and lounging about
the buildings, and that at once the general interest had
centered in the court-house.
Observing who had approached him, the Judge ad-

"
dressed him :
Well, Stephen Roberts, what would
"
you have ?
" our case against that fellow McCandless
is
Judge,
"
to come to trial this term ?
" directions from the Governor are not to recog-
My
'
nize any case on the part of your people against his
Majesty's officials."
There was a movement on the utterance of this state-
ment, and loud murmurs were heard in all directions as
its nature was carried from one to another.
Roderick McCandless, the thrifty Scotch shop-keeper

opposite the court-house, had held from the Crown the
appointment of local tax-gatherer for a year past, and
DANIEL BOONE. 21
in that capacity had managed to make himself obnox-

ious to the entire community, even to an extent not
common to tax-gatherers. It was hinted about and
generally believed that he had succeeded in drawing

from the people, in the way of taxes, far more than
was legal, and that his returns by no means represented
his collections. As his case, though flagrant, was but
one of many of the same nature, it had been made a
test, and, backed up by a number of the Hillsborough
people, was being sought to be prosecuted through a

motion to call for the examination of McCandless'
books in behalf of the Crown.
The motion was perfectly regular, having been made
by Stephen Roberts, himself educated as a lawyer, and
was in proper form and ho little surprise was evinced
when Judge Anderson announced his intention to re-
fuse it Some, even, of those standing about

a hearing.
him, and who had themselves somewhat to fear in the

case of trouble, remonstrated with him regarding his
determination. But to all he turned a deaf ear, reply-
ing shortly, though pleasantly enough, that he had his

instructions and must comply with them, and that no
"
case presented by the so-called Regulators" could be
recognized.
Perceiving the impossibility of moving the Judge,
Roberts quietly left the court-house. Outside he was
joined by Cox and a number of others, and a hasty con-
ference was held.
While this was going on and it had taken but a
very few moments the hunter had entered the court-

house, and could be seen talking earnestly to Judge

Anderson, who listened attentively, but evidently with-
out being impressed or induced to change his intention.
The Judge presently rose, the hunter retiring from
him as he did so, and was about to give the direction
to clear the court-room, preparatory to opening court.
At this moment an accidental occurrence precipitated
what followed, and entirely changed the aspect of af-
fairs and for the worse.

There was heard a confusion of sounds in the direc-
and a rush was made thitherward by

tion of the store,
the crowd without. Then a child cried out, a man's
voice sounded in loud altercation, and the burly form
of Roderick McCandless, himself, was seem emerging
from his premises.
His appearance was not prepossessing. He was
sandy -haired, high -cheek -boned, freckled, and pock-
marked. He was and gaunt, and his low forehead
tall
and snapping eyes gave him a mean expression. At

present he held by -the shoulder a small boy, whom he
shook with more vigor than seemed necessary, and who
bawled lustily.
"Whose child it?" queried the Judge, as he
is
arrested his action for a moment, disturbed by the
outcry.
" It is Daniel
Bodhe's," replied the person addressed.
Hearing that, the tall hunter turned sharply about,
took in the situation at a glance, and the next moment
was striding across the green in the direction of the in-
furiated Scotchman and his prey.

DANIEL BOONE. 23
He he approached him, but passing

said nothing as
his rifle from one hand to the other, with his disen-
gaged right arm gave^McCandless a single buffet that
flunghim staggering to the ground, while, at the same
moment, he dexterously rescued the little boy from
his clutches.
There was a wild howl of triumph and derision from

the crowd, and the fallen trader was at once pitched
upon and kicked and tossed from one to the other,

each and all having grievances enough for which to
bestow upon the unhappy victim each his separate
blow.
But the Scotchman was not without his friends and
adherents, as a man who made his money easily and
knew how to distribute it to advantage must needs
have. And first his men and underlings in the store
rushed to his aid, and then as the fight became general
others gathered from various points, summoned hastily
to aid the Crown officers, and what at first seemed no
more than a petty quarrel, assumed the proportions of
a riot.
Stones were used freely, and clubs, and then the

sharp ping of a rifle was followed by the report of a
horse-pistol, and the crash of broken glass, yells of rage,
and cries of pain made a noise frightful to hear.
At the beginning, Judge Anderson, followed by the
Sheriff and other court officers, had hurried to the
scene ;
and the man whom they called Daniel Boone,
having left his child in a place of safety, had returned

and joined them.
" '
Why did he quarrel with the child, Boone ? asked

the Judge.
" I have no knowledge, Judge he was ill-treating
;
the boy, and I took him away from him. But I did
not think it would make this disorder."
"
Oh, that has nothing to do with it ; or, rather, is
only an excuse. They have been itching to get at old

McCandless for a year past, and I only hope they'll
spare his life. Ha !
they're taking to fire-arms ;
this
must be stopped."
And so saying, the whole party rushed into the midst
of the fracas.
The Scotchman was being badly handled, but he was

not killed, and it was Boone's own strong arms that
lifted his battered and bloody form from among the
"
trampling feet of the Regulators."
He was a repulsive-looking object enough, with his
hair matted with blood and dirt, his eyes bloodshot, a
terrible gash in one cheek, and blood flowing freely
from what seemed to be a knife or tomahawk wound
in the right shoulder, and which disabled that arm.
He was, however, plucky enough, and seemed ready to
rush upon his assailants, who had retired a little from
the attack of the new-comers. But at that moment
the cries rose higher than ever, and it became apparent
that a new victim had been discovered.
This was, in fact, no other than the Sheriff himself,
Caleb Glennie by name, who, by the vigor with which

he had prosecuted distraining for non-payment of taxes
or for ordinary debt, had won for himself a name by
DANIEL BOONE. 25
which he was held up to general execration. His ap-

pearance in the train of the Judge had been the signal
for a general rush in his direction. He was seized,
dragged from the protection of his associates, and in

another moment the trembling wretch was standing
beneath a tree, while one of the Regulators fastened
a rope to an overhanging branch, the pending noose
having been first deftly swung over the Sheriff's head,
and drawn tightly about his neck.

"
Egad !
you're a good hangman see how you like
it yourself."
" Ye'll be wishin'
ye might be distrained in a minute,
Cale."
"
Rise the thievin* villain !
up now, an' make haste
"
about it !
And with such cries, the rope was suddenly drawfy

and the wretch swung several feet in the air.
At that instant the crack of a rifle was heard ; the
rope, pierced by the snapped in twain, and Caleb

bullet,
Glennie fell to the ground where he had both sense
and strength enough to escape as fast as his legs would
carry him, to where the smoking rifle of Daniel Boone
showed him his saviour.
The execrations of the disappointed Regulators were

loud and deep, and a movement was made to intercept
the runaway, but just then an unexpected diversion
changed their minds.

Smoke was seen coming out of McCandless' store in
huge volumes, while a crowd rushing in and out of it,
bore from it every article they could lay their hands

26 THE LTFE AND TIMES OF
upon. Tobacco, whisky, jerked meat, powder and balls,

fire-arms, knives and tomahawks every article that was
of value to the frontiersman, or that tickled his fancy,
was to be found quantity in the Scotchman's store,

in
and was now eagerly seized by the incendiaries.

But the affair had by this time aroused the attention
of the entire neighborhood ;
and fearing for their own
homes, and having no particular interest with the Reg-
ulators, who came mostly from other settlements, the
towns-people gathered in force and supported Judge

Anderson and his friends and subordinates in quelling
the riot. They speedily outnumbered the rioters, and

in less than half an hour the latter had begun to retreat.
But before they went, they made a simultaneous attack
on the Judge, raising loud cries as they rushed upon
him " You shall hold no court here to deal out injus-
:
" "
tice ! We're keepin' watch of you, Dick Anderson ;
"
look out for your big barn some of these fine nights !
The Judge was plucky and determined, but he was
unarmed, and had not Boone and others closely guarded

him and accompanied him to his horse, he could not
have saved himself from the fury of the attacking
party.
With the half-executed Sheriff clinging timorously
Boone shouldered his way past the rioters,
to his side,
having the Judge close behind him, while a dozen 01

more of their friends kept the way clear, striking right
and left with whatever they chanced to have in their
hands.
Beneath a low shed next the meeting-house, were
DANIEL BOONE. 27
tied the horses of the party, and here, too, was Boone'3
son, a boy of twelve years, or thereabouts, in the care
of an old negro to whom he had been hurriedly given
over by the hunter for safe keeping.
It was the work of a moment to mount their horses,
Boone taking his boy behind him, and as a wild yell

from the discomfited Regulators filled the air, the
whole party rode rapidly away in the direction of the
adjoining county of Granville, where was Judge Ander-
son's residence, and to which section all of his party,
excepting Boone, belonged.

CHAPTER II.
Wherein Boone becomes the guest of Judge Anderson, and an important mu-
ter is considered and which presents Rafe Slaughter to the Reader, as
;
character not unworthy of study.
IT was nightfall of the day following that of the ex-
citing events in Hillsborough, and Daniel Boone and
Judge Anderson were seated in the handsome library

of the latter, in his residence in Granville County.
The Judge was a man of large private fortune, while
his official position gave him not only high standing,
but afforded him frequent opportunities of adding to
his wealth. He was possessed of a most enterprising
and energetic nature, and a mind peculiarly adapted
for the conception and carrying out of large schemes,
and difficult and even dangerous operations. He had

been on intimate terms with Boone ever since the lat-
ter had come to North Carolina to live, being well

acquainted also with his father, who, about fifteen years
prior to the period of this narrative, had brought his
family to the banks of the Yadkin, where they still
resided
Though old farmer Boone had several sons, the Judge

had become chiefly interested in Daniel who had at an
early age shown an adventurous disposition, and the

reticence and decision which still characterized him,
(28)
DANIEL BOONS. 29
and which were qualities that strongly appealed to the
thoughtful, scheming man of the world, ever on the

lookout for instruments to conduct his ideas to a suc-
cessful conclusion.
In fact, having all this in his mind, he had sent a

message to Boone's home on the Yadkin, requesting
his presence at Hillsborough, at term time, for a con-
ference. Boone happened home when the
to be at
message arrived and this was by no means a common

occurrence with a man who only felt that he lived
when he was in the wilderness and having nothing
immediately in view in the way he very wil-
of action,
lingly set forthon horseback to meet the Judge.

At the latter's request, too, he had accompanied him
to Granville, where they had but just arrived at the
point we reach in the present chapter.
Judge Anderson farmed extensively, employing a

large number of hands to prosecute the work, and
overseeing it himself when his professional duties would

permit.
His residence was one of the finest in the country,
or indeed in the whole Colony. A large frame house,
substantially built in a plain style of architecture, the

apartments were generally of great size, and were fur-
nished with everything that lavish wealth and a luxuri-
ous taste could combine to bring together.
The room in which the two were now sitting was
smaller than the others, and was more plainly furnished,
while the walls were lined with oaken shelves contain-
ing what seemed to be a most promising library.

A hearty supper had refreshed the travelers,
now sat beside a handsome oak library-table,
in discussing the extraordinary events which had tal- en
place at Hillsborough.
The contrast between the elegant figure of the Judge
who had taken time to array himself in faultless linen
and rich broadcloth and the massive form of the stal-
wart hunter, in his buckskin hunting-dress, was certainly

broad enough, yet the latter did not by any means pre-
sent an incongruous appearance amid his unwonted
surroundings. No more, indeed, than would a knight
in armor of a few centuries before, or a richly decked
gallant tempus Carolus Secundus, in the same circum-

stances.
Boone sat, sedate and unperturbed, as was his cus-
tom, and looked about him without surprise and with-

out concern. His idea of magnificence had never before
been fostered by anything richer than the ordinary log-
house of the frontiersman or, at most, the common-
;
place residence of the townsman shop-keeper, with its
garish show and want of taste. But, accustomed to the

stupendous splendor of natural scenery, and the weird
and lonely grandeur of a life in the wilds that only the
savage and the buffalo frequented, no artificial creation
or construction could readily confound him.
"
Boone," said the Judge after a period of silence of
"
some length, it did not look well or right for us to fly
from yon noisy and riotous knaves and thieves, now

"
did it ? And he looked at the other, curiously, as he
awaited his reply.
DANIEL BOONE. 31
"
Sometimes one has to run away sometimes he ;
makes others run whichever is best to do is right.

;
You might have run a good number of miles,

seen me
beyond Watauga, a twelvemonth since, if so be you
had been there."
" Indians "
?
" Shawnees."
" I could have done no good by staying," pursued

the Judge, after a moment, returning to the subject ;
" and there was

likely to be more trouble while the
others who were with me remained Glennie and that
lot ;
the Hillsborough people don't like them and no
more do I, for that matter."
"
Why consort with them, then, Judge ?"
The looked surprised for a moment, and an
latter
amused smile passed over his countenance.

"
something we can't regulate,' as the Reg-
That ' '
is
'
ulators say. His blessed Majesty's advisers, over across

the water, have a way of appointing whom
they please
to position on this side, and we must agree, one with
another, otherwise it will be the worse for us. But
how is Boone, that these fellows have not drawn
it,
you in with them ? I saw Roberts and Cox and one or

two more of the leaders talking to you, and I suppose
they were not merely inquiring after your health. Of
course you know you can confide in me."
Boone was silent for a moment, apparently reflecting.
When he finally spoke, he drew nearer the table, and
lowered his voice.
"You see, Judge, I'm very little about the settle-
ments, and I ain't I own up what you might call
neighborly. Still, I don't deny there have been some

things said to me about grievances and such. Kinder
leadin' up to something like what you mean. But 1
ain't cut out for that kind of schemin', conspirin' life.
If I meet Injins, I know what to expect, if so be as
they's onfriendly, and I act accordin' ;

but when it
comes to towns-people and as to payin' taxes, and be-

in' swindled consarnin' deeds, I can't get up no sort of
interest in it.
"
An', Judge," and here the hunter looked about
him and dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper, while
the Judge listened earnestly, " Judge, it ain't only round
Hillsborough, an' consarnin' tax-gatherin' an' the like,
that there's bad blood ;

it lies deeper 'n that. I hear
a deal when I'm crossin' country, an' there's bitter
feelin's that's got to come out afore we are ten years
older."
Anderson and crossing

said nothing to this, but rose,
the room, closed an open door. Returning he sat silent

for a moment then he spoke again.
;
"
Do you
know, Boone, when the matter of this riot
comes up, you'll have to be indicted as one of the prin-
cipals !"
The hunter raised his head and stared at him.
" Me ? Why, if it hadn't been for me that
Judge,
mean Scotchman would .ha' been pounded to pieces ;
an' your blackguard Sheriff, askin' your pardon, would

ha* been food for the buzzards."
" and I'm not but you
That's
all so, gainsaying it ;
DANIEL BOONE. 33
must admit you knocked McCandless down before an-
other blow had been struck."

" For abusin' little Jimmy, there ?"
"
Yes, but don't you see, my friend, that the bare
"
fact, related against you, would be very telling ?
Boone said nothing, but turned uneasily in his chair.
Presently he looked at the Judge, who immediately

burst out laughing. Slapping the hunter familiarly on
the shoulder, he said :
" Don't be
disturbed, my friend, there are extenuat-
ing circumstances though I don't know that saving

;
Cale Glennie from his just dues would be considered

one of them ;
but I only advert to the circumstance to
offer a suggestion to you."
"And that is?"
" That would be
it just as well for you to take one
of your famous West after I gat through
trips into the
with what have to say to you. There will be wit-
I shall
nesses enough for the Crown and for the People with-
out you, and I think there is not much danger of your
being brought up on a criminal charge. But I will say

you managed most beautifully to put yourself at en-
mity with both sides, and you will be much better off
a good many miles away when the case comes up for
examination."
" Thank I'm quite of your opinion, an'
yer, Judge,
it won't take me long to get ready to start off again
though I hevn't any special object in going."
" Don't let that disturb
you, Boone Before you !
undertake your next journey you shall not be without

2*
a special object, that will at once stimulate your plans
for self-interest, and your pride as a pioneer."
"
My pride as a pioneer, Judge, ain't to be spoken of
in this connection. To tell you the truth, I have had
very littk pride, except in the matter of killing Injuns.
Now, there are people as imagine, I dare say, that those
of us who go out in the wilderness fancy that we are
very daring fellows but any such conclusion is an error,

;
Judge we get that taken out of us soon, after we meet

;
our first b'ar and tackle our first Injun, and all the
pride that comes in afterwards, is that we have got a

whole crop of hair on our heads and no bullet-holes
through our carcasses.
" As for settled plans I haven't any, Judge. I have
led what my neighbors call a useless kind of life, tho'
perhaps I don't think so, and I don't believe, altogeth-
er, that you would ;

not that these neighborly ideas
affect me much.
" a wrong one, but
My theory of life may be it is the
only one I've got, an', right or wrong, I've got to coma
thro' on it. If I am not tiring you, I would just like to
say a word or two on that subject, as we're on it, be-

cause I've got respect for your opinion, and it seems we
may do business together."

The Judge had listened, apparently interested in all
that the pioneer had said of himself, and now only re-
" Go
marked, by way of response right ahead, Boone.
:
I like to hear you talk, because you are the kind of

man who does not talk often, and generally has a good
deal to say when the occasion comes up. Your theory
DANIEL BOONE. 35
of has certainly worked out a good result, and

life
though it may not agree with mine exactly for pre-

cisely that reason you may be the very man I want to
carry out my own ideas."
Boone looked as pleased as his usually unchangeable
eatures would permit. He was, in fact, a man who ex-
pressed very little in his face, which was usually set in
calm repose.
"Well, Judge, td go on much of my life, as you
know, has been passed in the wilderness with the In-
juns and other savage creeturs, and I don't harmonize
exactly with my fellow-beings not as well as might be

useful to me so I generally leave my farm and domes-
tic concerns to the old woman, and to the boys, who
are now getting up a little, an' beginnin* to do some-
thin', and when I get a chance I go to my business

which is what the neighbors call loafing.
" do not agree with them
I need not say and I
very few of them, or I miss my mark, would find it

such a lazy life up Watauga way where I was last year,
and where a man has to keep his faculties about him
day an' night, and his eyes very wide open when they
are open, and his body active most of the time. There's
not much
loafing about that.
" "
Meanwhile," he continued, traveling out there
and taking a chance for game, or a shot at an Injun,
wouldn't be a very ambitious kind of life, I admit, and
that is just where my theory comes in.
"To tell you the truth, Judge" and here Boone

leaned forward a little and held his forefinger impres-
" I had a kind of idee that
sivcly in the air always
some men were planed out for certain kinds of work in
this world, and kind of drove to take it whether they

wanted to or not.
"
So far as that goes, my theory of my kind of work,
calls it pioneering, goin' ahead of the rest of the world
and smoothin* the path, findin' out the dangers and
makin' them scarcer, makin' it kind of easy, you know,
for theweak-kneed, the young, an' the old, who go to
build up the settlement afterwards. I do not know as
there's any high callin' in that kind of work, or that it
is anything to be proud of ;
but when I think of it at
all I can not help thinkin' that it is useful."
As he said the last few words Boone leaned back in

his chair again, and, crossing his legs, offered the
appearance of a man who had concluded all that he
had to offer on the subject in hand.

"You do not talk often, Boone," said the Judge,
" but when
you do talk, you say something.
" Your
theory is a sound one, and shows an amount
of philosophy that I would not have looked for in you.
It has frequently occurred to me that certain men are

marked out for certain fixed duties, having some relation
to the general well-being. Decidedly those which you

have taken upon yourself or which have fallen in your
way, are of grave importance and your course is the
;
more satisfactory to me, because these duties coincide
exactly with my own designs, in aiding which I think
you may be a very efficient instrument."

" and any ideas
You are a long-headed man, Judge,
DANIEL BOONE. 37
you have will be worth something and whatever I can ;
do to help them along I will do as well as I know how."

At this moment the door of the room in which the
two were sitting, opened to admit a man who was a
stranger to Boone, but evidently far from being so to
Judge Anderson, who arose as he entered and approach-
ed him with every sign in his manner of gratification
and friendly interest.
"
am "
Rafe, I glad to see you," he said ; when did
you arrive, and how is everything at the mill ? but

first, I must make you acquainted with my friend
Daniel Boone."
As he said these words Boone rose from the chair,
his tallform towering far above that of the new-comer.
The latter was an extraordinary-looking specimen of
humanity ; being at the same time a character destined
to occupy a prominent position in this narrative.
Rafe Slaughter was a man well on in middle life,
judging from the iron-gray that mixed with his coal-
black hair, and from the lining of his features, which
were marked and impressive. Still it was impossible to
tellfrom his appearance exactly for how many years he
had carried through life the remarkable structure which
he exhibited.
Not much more than five feet in height, he was thin
spare, and cadaverous.
His face was long and very
white, beardless and sallow. His hair hung in locks,
lightly curled at the ends about his neck and over
his forehead.
But his arms were the most remarkable part of his

anatomy, and their appearance at once caused him to

assume a permanent position in the memory of even
the most careless observer.
They extended some ways below his knees and

showed at their extremities powerful hands, very white
and long, and which gave an uncanny look to the

whole figure. His legs were short and attenuated, his
feet very small, altogether he looked not so much like
a malformed man as like an adroit imitation of human-

ity.
The time which has been taken in this description

has been no greater than that which elapsed between
the remark of Judge Anderson and the next ob-
last
servation from any of the three.

The hunter stood dumb with astonishment at the
sight of the strange figure before him.

The latter remained near the door, with his long arms
hanging straight down by his sides, saying nothing;
while the Judge silently enjoyed the situation, and the
difference in the appearance of his two friends.
He
broke the silence presently, however, to say
"Boone, this is my friend and secretary, Rafe Slaugh-
ter ;
a man who knows more about me than I do about
myself, and whom I trust implicitly with everything
that concerns me. I want you to know each other and

to be good friends."
At these words Rafe lifted up his

right hand, as
though were something he was taking from the floor,
it
and extended it in the direction of Daniel Boone, who

seizing it rather gingerly in his own let it drop smartly,
DANIEL BOONE. 39
seemingly apprehensive lest it should burn or other-

wise injure him.
Up to this moment Rafe had not spoken ;

but he
now found his voice, which, to the astonishment of the
hunter, proved to be very deep-toned, and quite out of
proportion with the size and general appearance which

its owner presented.
"
I have heard of Daniel Boone," he said, slowly ;
"
you come from up Yadkin way,
'*
I think ?
The hunter nodded.
" I have heard of
he continued, " as the
you," man
who has been further West than almost anybody else
in the Colonies. I am glad to see you."

"Any friend of Judge Anderson's is bound to get
my respect, so far," said Boone cautiously.

Judge Anderson laughed.
" You
may take him on my valuation, Boone by ;
and by, when you know him better, you will like him
on your own now sit down, both of you."
;
The hunter resumed his seat, and the Judge's secre-

tary established himself near the door.
Being seated, the latter turned to the Judge, saying :
" It
seems you had some kind of trouble at Hills
borough."
" We did," replied the Judge ;
"
and if it had not been
for my friend Boone, it might have been worse just
as if it had not been for him, it might have been bet-

ter," and here the Judge cast a laughing glance at the
hunter, who merely uttered a grunt to signify that the
subject had already been exhausted.

Judge Anderson, however, who was something of a

humorist, in his way, was inclined to get the most he
could out of what appeared to him to be a capital
joke.
" " this
You see, Rafe," said he, excitable friend of
mine had to make an attack upon McCandless, on account
of some boy the Scotchman was putting out of his
shop. The boy was Boone's son, but I do not know

as that need make any difference with my story."
The hunter smiled grimly at this way of putting it,
which even he, though not very appreciative of jests,

could not fail to enjoy.
"
McCandless was treating the boy rather roughly,
when Boone interfered, and the crowd, who had only
been waiting for a good chance, saw their opportunity
and pummelled the Scotchman unmercifully then a ;
general fight followed, and it turned out that our friends

the Regulators were using these means to settle their
own private difficulties with McCandless. and one or
two others.
" It
really began to look quite exciting when they
ran the Sheriff under a tree with a rope round his neck,
and made preparations to hang him/'
"They did hang him, Judge," remarked Boone at
this juncture.
"Quite right," said the Judge laughing, "they hung

him several feet in the air, and you will hardly believe
that hewould have been hanging there yet, if it had
not been for a bullet from the rifle of Boone here it :
actually cut the rope in two ;

the man dropped, and
DANIEL BOONE. 41
before the crowd could recover from their consternation

he succeeded in reaching us.
" His
suppose (I would say, however, 1
friends, I
hardly think he had a friend in the party), could not

very well avoid helping the Sheriff out of his trouble,
so we all surrounded him and brought him off in
safety."
" You away from the field, Judge," said Rafe,
ran
and a sarcastic smile showed itself at the corners of his
mouth.
"
Well," replied the Judge, and his brow lowered a
"
little, while the color rose in his face ; you may call it
that if you have a mind, and I am not particularly
proud of my own part in the matter ; yet, you must

know, that it would not have done for a Superior Court
Judge to have joined voluntarily in a riot."
"
Why did you not suppress it ?" said the other.
" That with what instruments
is very easily said ?
there were about fifteen of us, and three hundred of

the Regulators. Besides, the towns-people came in to
protect their own property, and as they were willing to

do the fighting, I was willing they should.
" me an opportunity to refuse hold-
Moreover, it gave
ing court, which was precisely what I most desired."
"Why so?"
" was worrying me about
that fellow Roberts
Why,
his case against McCandless, which I had received
orders not to entertain. I may tell you, confiden-
tially, that I think the case a good one, and differed
with the Governor as to its being brought to i
42
mqnt ; but as it stood, I had nothing to do but to

obey orders.
"
Under the circumstances, the best course for me
was not to hold court, since I would thus gain time,
during which the matter may come under reconsider-
ation, and be adjudicated differently."
"
Looking at it from that point of view," said Rafe,
" I do not know but what you are right of course you ;
have heard nothing from Hillsborough since?"

" Not a " There has not
word," replied the Judge.
been time. We rode hard, and only reached here this
afternoon. Now I have answered your questions, will
you be good enough to answer mine ?"
" I found everything satisfactory at the mill," said
Rafe, as though no time had elapsed, or other subject
been treated, since the question was asked on his first
" All the lumber is
entrance. being got out that you
ordered."
" Have "
you brought the accounts ?
" I have here
they are," and he extracted a pack-
;
age of papers from a pocket in his coat, and handed it

to the Judge, who laid it on the table opposite to him.
" " as and
Now," said the latter, it is growing late I
am a little tired, I think I will go to bed. In the morn-

he continued, addressing Boone " I shall want
"
ing
to see you to talk over the plan I mentioned to you be-
fore Rafe came in."
Going to the door the Judge looked out into the

great hall, where, as it was still chilly, a large wood-fire
was burning in the capacious open fire-place which filled
DANIEL BOONE. 43
nearly half of one end. On a table stood several can

dies in brass candlesticks ; and, being followed into the
hallby his two companions, the Judge gave each of
them one, and they retired to their rooms.

In one bed in the apartment to be occupied by the
hunter, lay the young lad who had been the innocent
occasion of the Hillsborough riot a conflict which was
to pass into history as one of the first occasioned by
the growing dissatisfaction experienced by the Colo-
nists, in regard to the conduct of the officials who rep-

resented among them a harsh and unjust Government.
CHAPTER III.
In which Judge Anderson elucidates his designs, without affording any mate
rial information either to Boone or to the reader ; while Rafe Slaughter
demonstrates himself after his kind, and the hunter at length sets his face
homeward.
ON the morning following the events recorded in our

last chapter, Boone was stirring early, as was his habit ;
so early, in fact, that none of the members of the house-
hold were visible as he emerged on the long piazza that

extended across the front of Judge Anderson's resi-
dence.
The day was bright and cheerful, though there was
a slight chill in and the birds were singing their
the air,
spring songs amid the fresh leaves that were putting

forth in all directions from the shrubbery, and from the
larger trees that shaded the lawn.

The first one of Judge Anderson's family to appear
was his daughter, a lissome, active, and, withal, ex-
ceedingly pretty girl of some sixteen years, who had

seen the hunter at tea the night before, and who now
addressed him with the freedom which characterized
the times and people, and was specially common be-
tween Boone and all children. These always seemed
to recognize at a glance that the stalwart nature of the
pioneer signified a man to be implicitly trusted, and

they made friends with him without ceremony.
(44)
DANIEL BOONE. 45
Indeed, Boone always unbent from his customary

serious and preoccupied mien, when in the society of
these young people. On this occasion, after the usual
morning salutation, he freely questioned the girl as to

her amusements and the society which she found in the
neighborhood.
The where Judge Anderson resided was
section
thickly populated, though his immediate residence

and farm were somewhat isolated, and, indeed, occu-
pied a considerable tract of land many hundred acres,
in fact the most of which was under cultivation.
There were, however, a number of well-to-do families
in the neighborhood, and among these Jessie Anderson
was a favorite. She had, therefore, much to tell, in her

winsome and girlish fashion, of the pastimes that were
common to her class in society. These were not widely
different from such as occupy young people similarly
situated in our own times. There were parties and jun-
ketings picnics, we would call them and excursions

into the woods, which in this part of the country were
free from both Indians and wild beasts the two dan-
gers which were certain to be encountered by forest

wanderers not many miles farther west.
The young men of the neighborhood, she said, were
mostly farmers' sons, though some of them were clerks
in the offices of the Government officials in the neigh-
boring town.
The hunter quite enjoyed her pleasant conversation,
much of which he elicited by questions which would
hardly have been expected from one more accustomed
to the solitude of a wild and uncultivated country, than
to the habits of refined society.
While they were thus engaged Judge Anderson him
appeared, followed closely by the anomalous figure
self
of his secretary.The Judge shook hands warmly with

Boone, and hoped he had passed a pleasant and rest-
ful night. Rafe Slaughter extended his hand, at the
extremity of his long right arm, again with the appar-
ent motion of picking up something from the ground,
and offering it as a propitiatory gift, and Boone took it
with much the manner of receiving some unexpected
and not altogether desirable article which was being
thrustupon him.
The hunter could not, indeed, quite recover himself
from the startling impression made upon him by this
peculiar -looking being. He
seemed, as he regarded
the Judge's secretary, to be turning over in his mind
some dim comparison, as though with creatures that
he had seen pictured in books, or possibly in life, dur-
ing the course of his peregrinations.

"
Judge," said Boone, after he had performed the
manipulation with the secretary to which we have re-
" I would be moving homeward
ferred, was thinking I
as early to-day as you can spare me, because, you see,

I ain'tanxious to meet any of those Regulator fellers,
and by the time that Hillsborough matter gets noised
round they're pretty sartin to collect themselves to-
gether. My road to Yadkin lies right through the
thickest of 'em, and if I'm going to travel out o' the
neighborhood, thar ain't any use of my havin' anything

DANIEL BOONS. 47
to say to 'em ;
was turning
an' besides that, Judge, I
over in my mind in the night what you was telling

me, and it ain't any more agreeable for me to meet
the King's officers just now ; so, altogether, unless
you can raise objections, I think the sooner I start the

better."
" You may be right, Boone, about the Regulators,"
" in these
said the Judge, thoughtfully. If you stay
parts they won't be satisfied unless you either join
them or set yourself against them, and, as I understand
it, you don't care to do either.
" As for the King's officers, I don't think you need
anticipate any trouble from them, even if you should
meet any, which is not likely. Whatever action is to be
taken with regard to the riot will be my work, at least
in the beginning, and it will take some time to arrange
about that. However, what I have to say to you will

not occupy a great while, and we will get at it immedi-
ately after breakfast, which I see by Jessie's face is now
waiting for us."

The young girl had, in fact, retired into the house on
the appearance of her father, and now showed herself
at the door,where her appearance answered the pur-

pose of announcing the morning meal, whose period
was now further indicated by the ringing of a large bell
in the hands of a black girl. The others followed her
in, and presently were seated around a well-filled table

in the large dining-room, where Mrs. Anderson, anothef
daughter, and a lad a few years younger than his sis-
ters, comprising the family, were already gathered in

48 THE LIFE ANff TIMES OF
waiting. The meal passed quickly in pleasant conver

sation, in which the secretary took a distinguished part.
This strange being was, in fact, as peculiar in his
mental as in his physical constitution. With a face of
such a lugubrious cast that a smile would have seemed
quite out of place on it, he possessed a wit as spirited

and original as its expressions were unexpected to those
unacquainted with him.
The son of an English clergyman, according to his own
story, Rafe Slaughter had received a university educa-
tion, being himself, he said, originally designed for the

ministry. The embarrassment which grew upon him
with his years, as he contemplated his ungainly form
and harsh and peculiar features, had eventually turned
him from his tendency in that direction.
The parental determination had not been sufficient
to overcome his strong feelings of dislike to undertake
the profession of religion ;
and this being persisted in,
as he stated, had brought about such a combat of wills

that the young man had emigrated to the Colonies,
with, in lieu of patrimony, merely his education, and a
very firm determination to succeed in the pursuit of

some object in life, the nature of which, however, he
had not yet fully determined.
This had occurred some twenty years before the
period we are considering, for Rafe was much older
than his present employer. He had drifted about from
one city to another, employing himself in teaching, or
in such other ways as presented themselves, making a
scanty living, rendered more difficult to obtain by his

DANIEL BOONE. 49
personal characteristics. He had, finally, about five
years before, floated into Granville County, and at-
tracted the notice of Judge Anderson, who was not

slow to recognize ability, however it might be masked.
From doing odd jobs of writing and research among
law books for precedents, Rafe had grown into his
present position that of secretary, factotum, and con-

fidential agent, in which lines he had made himself
absolutely essential to his employer.
For three years past he had lived in the family of
the Judge, treated as an equal, and rather like a trusted
friend and adviser than as a subordinate though Judge
Anderson did not altogether credit his secretary's state-
ment as to all the details of his past life.
Rafe's character was as strange a mixture as his or-
ganization. To great firmness and determination in

most directions, there were allied in him weaknesses
which would long before have conquered a less reso-
lute man.
Really born of an old Irish family in high repute,

he had inherited qualities of rare virtue. high sense A
of honor, precise personal integrity, and indomitable
courage, both physical and moral, were characteristics
of a nature which would thus seem to be fully and
excellently equipped for the world's battle. With these
qualities were unfortunately combined others, now hap-
pily overcome, which, like the evil gift of A* revenge-
ful fairy in the legend, had for many years gone far to
frustrate and distract a life which would otherwise have
been singularly symmetrical.
3
With the noble characteristics which doubtless de.
scended from his ancestors, Rafe Slaughter had inher
ited from some one of them, a passion, which a century
before had been even more prominent than at the time

of which we are writing the love of strong drink.
Yet it is not to be supposed that in the latter part of
the eighteenth century, either in England or among
the people of the Colonies, who gained their habits as
well as their manners and customs from the mother-
country, there was any marked tendency toward tem-
perance. Quite on the contrary, our forefathers of this
period, and their relatives on the other side of the ocean,
were both, as a rule, greatly addicted to imbibing.

In the southern provinces of America, more particu-
larly since these had derived their population to a

considerable extent from the old English cavalier fam-
ilies heavy drinking was the rule, both among the
upper and lower classes.

Rafe had formed the habit younger days, and
in his
it had long clung to him with tenacity. He had always

been, however, sufficiently master of himself to control
any marked exhibition of its evil effects, and long be-

fore the period when he is introduced to the reader, he
had totally and permanently overcome its influence
upon him.
This digression is necessary at this point to afford a
fair understanding of the original nature of a man, who,
as will be hereafter seen, was destined to occupy a
prominent position in connection with the events which
are to be herein recorded.
DANIEL BOONE. 51
After breakfast was over, and all had risen from the
table, the Judge led the way to the library, whither
Boone and the secretary accompanied him but before ;
he left the dining-room, the hunter was careful to see
his son handed over to the good graces and kindly care
of Jessie Anderson, who, with her brother and sister,
was gladly willing to do what she could toward amusing
the boy, who appeared to these children as quite a hero,
from his connection with the events at Hillsborough.
Being seated about the library-table, and the door
closed, Judge Anderson filled his pipe, a luxury which
he freely permitted himself, but which Boone refused
and opened the conversation.
" "
Boone," he said, how far west have you been in
"
your travels ?
The hunter thought "

a moment, and then said :
Well,
I've traveled a good up Watauga way, and along
deal
the forks of the Holston, and once got as far as Cum-
berland Gap."
"
When did you make your first trip ?"
" let me see is about eight years
Well, ; it yes,
in '60."
" "
When were you last out there ?
"
You see, Judge," and the hunter hitched uneasily
" I've
on his chair, been moving about in that direction
every year since my first visit, but sometimes I get
farther west, and sometimes farther south. Now, last
year, say about a year ago now, I was huntin' 'round

north of where I live on the Yadkin, about a week's
journey."
" Is that as far north as "
you have penetrated ?
"
Well, yes, I should think it was. But, Judge, you
know I am no scholar, and don't keep record of where
I go any more than blazing the trees and remembering
how long it takes me, and that ain't very close reckon-
ing, because sometimes I camp out for a week at a
time when the venison or b'ars are thick, an' then agin,
I push straight on for days together."
"That's near enough for my purpose," said the Judge,
and then he sat in silence for some moments.
The secretary, who seemingly had no idea that the
questions and answers respectively, of the Judge and

his pioneer friend,need have any interest for him, had
risen from his seat and gone for amusement to the
book-case. Here he stood, looking along the shelves

above his head, apparently seeking some special volume,
which he presently discerned with the quick and expe-
rienced glance of a bibliomaniac, and having possessed
himself of it, seated himself and proceeded to read, ap-
parently oblivious of all about him.

The Judge, quite accustomed to Rafe's manner, paid
no attention to him, but presently moving his chair
close to Boone's, said :

" How long you to get ready and arrange
will it take
your out
affairs to
go over the ground you have already
trod and beyond it to move right into the wilderness
I mean, perhaps 250 or 300 miles?"
The hunter pondered a moment, and then replied :
" It won't take me make my

long, Judge, to prepara-
tions for going ;
but you see, there'll be matters to be
DANIEL BOONE. 53
looked after in the way of taking care of my old woman

and the little folks"
"If you go, their care shall be my charge," inter-
"
rupted the Judge. You need not let their condition
occupy your mind."

Boone gave him a quick sharp look, while he heaved
a sigh, as though he had unburdened himself of some-
thing unwelcome he had been carrying.

" don't
Well, Judge, that being settled, though I
know your meaning, I think I could get ready and

leave in three weeks or a month at furtherest, after I
am back to Yadkin."
" "
Can you find," said the Judge, companions who
"
will be willing to go with you ?
The hunter paused a moment.
" " There are a few men
Yes," he said presently. up
my way who won't object to go, I should think. One
or them have been out pretty far, already.
two of
There's John Finley, for instance, and Stuart and Cool
yes, I can find five or six good men who will go if
it is made to their advantage.

"
You see, Judge, they ain't like me, altogether, to
go out there for the fun of the thing, or with my idees
of what is coming after, and what it is all for. They
want to have something in hand that they can take
hold of do you understand ?"
"
That's all right, Boone. My plan, of course, in-
cludes paying liberally for the hardships and toil which

must necessarily be endured by those who undertake to
assist me in forwarding it.

"You and your companions will be equally entitled
to receive a fair remuneration for your services, when
the time comes for the undertaking I have in hand.
Meanwhile, I must specially request that you keep the
matter an entire secret between us. My secretary is,
of course, not included in this injunction, as he will be
made aware of every step in the future, as he has in
the past, in the direction toward which I am tending.

"At the present instant, it is only necessary for us
to mutually understand that you are ready, or will be,
whenever called upon, to make such an excursion as I
have indicated and to supply yourself with such men
;
as those to whom you have alluded, and who will be
ready to join you. And there is no reason why you

should not sound these men as to their readiness
to go, so as to have them prepared when the time
comes.
" I
have spoken of a speedy movement, but that
was more to find out how long it would take you to
get ready, and generally to inform myself as to your
condition, in regard to your ties of family and business,
than because I necessarily want you to go at once.
"
Delays will very likely occur to postpone the carry-
ing out of my intentions for some time, but, meanwhile
I shall make it my business to look after your interests,
and anything that I can do to forward them will be

done most cheerfully."
The Judge now though to signify that the
rose, as
interview was concluded, and Boone very willingly fol-
lowed his example. In fact, the hunter was quite as
DANIEL BOONE. 55
anxious, as he had signified, to proceed on his journey

homeward.
Rafe Slaughter was still deeply immersed in the vol-
ume he had chosen. Perceiving a movement, he now
relinquished his employment, and, rising from his seat,
approached the table.
" "
Well, Rafe," said the Judge, pleasantly, hope I
we have not disturbed your studies by our conversa-

tion."
" Not in the least, sir," replied the other " I was in-
;
terested in my reading."
The Judge now ordered up Boone's horse the boy ;
Jimmy was called from his play, and presently the

members of the family assembled on the piazza, and
bade adieu to their guest.
Curiously enough, Boone always appeared at his best
on such an occasion. There was a certain simple and
untutored dignity about the man, gained, doubtless,
through his association with nature and in the watch-

fulness of his customary life, which gave him a most
manly, and, one might say, elevated deportment, in the
presence of ladies and gentlemen.
After a hearty and genial farewell, he mounted his
horse, with the lad before him on the saddle, and, in
another moment, the pair had started on their long
journey homeward.
No sooner was the clattering of the hoofs of Boone's

horse silent in the distance, than the Judge, giving his
secretary a sign, returned hastily to the library.

"
Rafe," he said, as he stepped to his table and sat
" "
himself before it, you heard our conversation ?
" I
did, sir, every word of it."
" What do you think of the man ? "
"
He is honest, fearless, and worthy of confidence, or
I am very much in error."
" You would
trust him with this affair, would you
"
not ?continued the Judge.
Rafe hesitated for a moment before he replied.
" I would not
trust him nor any man," he said at
"
length, any further than the necessities of the case
required. Freedom of confidence beyond that point

always appears to me foolishness."
" must seem
According to that, Mr. Rafe Slaughter, I
to you a very silly man," said the Judge, with a shrewd
twinkle in his eyes.
The secretary came as near smiling at this sudden
turn of the affair by his employer, as it was possible for
him to do with the material at hand. He was, how-
ever, quite equal to the occasion ; indeed, these pas-
sages of wit were not infrequent between them, and
the Judge generally found that his secretary could quite
hold his own in the course of them.
" I don't admit the application, Judge. I won't offer
so lame an explanation as that the cases are totally dif-
ferent, but I will remark that, in the nature of our inti-
mate association for which I never can cease to be
grateful to
you very there is little in the way of secrets
that you communicate to me, that I should not be apt

to find out myself."
DANIEL BOONE. 57
"
The Judge laughed aloud at this. Well, Rafe, you
are a cool one, I will say."
The secretary only bowed, and the
Judge continued :
" I want you to go at once to John Williams and Leon-
ard Bullock, and ask them to meet me here this after,

noon for conference. Write, also, to William Johnston,
Thomas Hogg, Thomas Hart, John Lutterell, Nathan-
ielHart, and David Hart, and beg them to make what
speed they can to meet us all at my house at an early
day."
"
explain any occasion for the meeting, either
Shall I
"
in the notes or in my personal interviews ?
" need understand."
No, you not, they'll sufficiently
The secretary left the room to visit the two gentle-
men named, who resided in Granville, and to write to
the others, and the Judge departed to examine into the
conduct of the farm and consult with his overseers.
In the afternoon Rafe returned with Williams and
Bullock, and a conference was held, the secretary being
present, the nature of which it is unnecessary to dis-
close at the present juncture. Notes had been written

during the interval to the other parties whom the Judge
had named, and these were sent by special messenger
to Orange County, where they all resided. Some days
elapsed before these missives were heard from, and it
was late in the following week when they all appeared
in answer to the invitations which they had severally

received.
The meeting took and was a lengthy one, there
place,
being present, besides the new-comers, the two who had

3*
58 LIFE AND TIMES OF DANIEL BOONE.
already conferred with the Judge Williams and Bul-

lock and the secretary, making ten in all.
On concluding their conference, apparently with a

satisfactory agreement among themselves, judging from
their manner, the gentlemen departed to their several
homes, and Judge Anderson was left alone with his fam-
ily again. For several hours after the departure of his
guests, he was closeted with his secretary, who was

busily engaged in writing from his dictation, the sit-
ting lasting into the night.

On the following morning Rafe Slaughter started
on horseback, at an early hour, apparently for a long
journey. His saddle-bags were well filled, a rifle was
strapped across his shoulders, and a pair of horse-pis-
tols could be seen projecting from his holsters. Thus

armed and equipped, his short legs high in the stirrups,
and his long arms dangling and brandishing in the
airwith the movement of his steed, the secretary rode
hurriedly in a westerly direction.

CHAPTER IV.
How Daniel Boone falls in with one of the Regulators, and what happens.
Disclosing, moreover, the fact that there is nothing so easy as to overvalue
the weight of words.
IT was nearing sunset on the second day from that

of the hunter's departure from Granville, when Boone
and his young son, still riding as before, were slowly
climbing a heavily-wooded hill, where the bridle-path
was narrow and closely overhung by the branches of
the forest trees that skirted its sides.
The hunter had kept a south-westerly direction for

the first day, but had then changed his course, follow-
ing roads with which he was apparently familiar, and
which led more northward through Orange County,
thus enabling him to leave, at some fifteen or twenty
miles distance to the south, the town of Hillsborough,
a place which he did not seem in the least inclined
to revisit.
The horse was tired and the boy sleepy, and as the
evening gloom came down, Boone hastened his steed,
hoping to reach some farm-house, where he could
lodge for the night.
Although the hunter knew that the section through
which he was traveling was in the very thickest of the
(59)
district infested by the Regulators, he depended on the
fact that he was but little acquainted with the inhab-
itants, for carrying him through without question.
It had become so dark that it was difficult to see the
road or path before them, when a light appeared on
tli
right, and close at hand.
A
few moments brought the horse in front of a farm-
house built of logs, as was usual in this part of North
Carolina, and presently the tramping of the horse's feet
having disturbed the inmates, a man's voice was heard

" "
loudly hallooing, Who's there ?
Boone reined up at once, and answered, " A friend."

In those days, and in those parts, it was not well to
move on without responding to a salutation. One was
not unlikely to hear a rifle bullet whistle over his head
as a warning not to come nearer, unless his intentions
were friendly.
The man who had called out soon appeared at the
door of his cabin, having returned for a lantern, which

he now held above his head, the light exhibiting a
face unfamiliar to the hunter.
" and me
Can you give my boy lodging for the night
and a bite to eat, and my horse a bit of provender?"
The man with the lantern stepped down, and ap-
proached near enough to see from whom the request

emanated. Scanning the rider carefully, he appeared
satisfied with what he saw.
"
Alight, stranger, you shall have the best I have
got, and your horse shall not go unfed. It is little we
have in these days at the best," he continued, as Boone
DANIEL BOONE. 6l
dropped his son lightly to the ground, and in a moment

stood beside him, holding his horse by the bridle.
"
Between the poor .crops last year, and the thieving
that went on all winter, there's not much left to us."
,
As he said these words, the speaker threw the light
of his lantern full in Boone's face, which he seemed tc
be studying carefully.
"
I have heard before, it was bad times in these
" and
parts," replied the latter, it is not my meaning
to ask anything of you that I can't pay for, tho' I am
not much given to having money with me."
The other replied shortly " Oh I do not mind
: ! a
meal and a night's lodging to a decent traveler I was
not thinking of that let me have your horse, and you
and the boy step inside. My old woman is in there,
and she will give you a decent welcome, I dare say."
Taking the bridle from Boone's hand, he proceeded

toward the rear of the cabin, while the hunter and his
son stepped over the rude log that formed the door-
and entered the cabin, where both were pleasantly
sill,
greeted by a bright, active-looking woman of middle

age, who was engaged in getting supper. In this proc-
ess she was assisted by a girl some twelve or thirteen
years old, while two or three younger children played

about on the floor of the cabin.
The dwelling was one of the customary sort occupied
by new settlers, this part of Orange County being quite
distant from any town or settlement.
There were three rooms, the cabin being divided in
the middle by a rough partition of boards, hewn from
pine logs. The room in which the hunter found him-

self was therefore exactly half the cabin. At one end
a big wood fire blazed up the chimney, which was built
on the outside of the cabin, as was customary. This
room was apparently the kitchen, eating and general
sitting-room of the family, and a rude table, and a
few stools, with a rack for the simple service necessary
to their meals, constituted the furniture of the place.
The back room, divided in two, supplied the bed-
rooms of the family. The out-houses were as rude and
plain, as would naturally be the case with the dwelling

described.
Boone sat down, on being invited by his hostess, and
the boy Jimmy speedily made friends with the chil-
dren of the household.

A
few questions and answers passed back and forth,
but Boone was always taciturn, except when among
his intimate associates, and the farmer's wife was not
much more inclined for conversation, besides being en-
gaged in preparation for supper.
In a few moments the farmer entered and announced

that the horse was feeding, and properly sheltered.
Seating himself, Boone's new host gave an opportunity
for the examination of his appearance, of which the
hunter, though not usually inspired by curiosity, had

no hesitation in taking advantage.
The examination was not altogethei unsatisfactory,
although the look of the man was not calculated to
inspire immediate confidence.
He was short, bronzed with open-air employment,
DANIEL BOONE. 63
his hands toughened by toil with short curling hair,

turned prematurely gray by exposure to the elements ;
and round-shouldered by stooping, an action customary

to the farmer and the sailor his face appeared a mixt-
ure of openness and concealment, in which one of these
characteristics seemed always striving with the other
for supremacy.
One was one moment favorably impressed, at the

at
next repelled and no sooner had the hunter made up

;
his mind that his host was a simple, social, hospitable
fellow, and be inclined to converse freely with him, than

a change of expression would alter his opinion, and he
would shield himself beneath his customary reticence.
" the way," he said, after listening for a few min-
By
utes to talk about the crops, and as they were sitting
down to table, "what might your name be, friend ?"
The other looked at him sharply, and replied at once :
" Howell is my name, and I might as well ask the same

question."
" " "
sartin
Oh, ! said the hunter. My name is Boone,
Daniel Boone of Yadkin."
Howell had begun to cut the pork, which was before
him, and which served as the staple article for supper,
but, as he heard the name of his guest, he stopped
short, and for a moment seemed as though he would
drop his knife.
The sharp eyes of the pioneer did not fail to notice

the action, but he said nothing, only regarding him
steadily ; the other speedily recovered himself, and re-

" "
peated after him : Daniel Boone ! He was on the
point of making an observation thought better of it
swallowed it, and turned himself to cutting the pork,
his mind apparently concentrated on seeing that his

visitor should be well served.
As we have
already remarked, Boone did not fail to
observe the manner of his host, and kept a watchful
eye upon him from that moment forward.

This course presently caused the interception of a
quick glance which passed between Howell and his
wife, and which neither supposed to have been seen by
the pioneer.
Having served his guests and the family and recov-

ered himself from whatever had affected him on hear-
ing Boone's name, Howell became talkative again,

seeking to engage the other in conversation on the
state of the times, and apparently desiring to draw
from him some expression of opinion on this particular
subject.
Boone, however, was wary, employing in his behalf,
perhaps, the cunning which he had learned in wood-
craft and association with the Indians.
He was, in fact, desirous to keep out of the questions
which occupied the public mind of this part of North
Carolina, and did not mean, unless driven to the wall,
to commit himself to any course, either of judgment or
action.
Rednap Howell, however, his new acquaintance, was

a shrewd fellow, and, as it happened, vitally interested
in themovements of the Regulators. He had heard of
Boone, whose name was indeed pretty generally known
DANIEL BOONE. 65
with that of Finlay, Harrod, Burke, and others of the

more adventurous and advanced pioneers though
;
Boone himself was one younger and at that time

of the
lessexperienced of these men.

It will be readily understood by the reader, that for
such a movement as was contemplated and in hand on

the part of the Regulators, it was eminently desirable
that such active and fearless men as Boone should be
gained as adherents.
News of the Hillsborough riot had, of course, reach-
ed Howell, who was one of the leaders in the general
movement, although he happened not to be present on

that occasion. He perfectly well knew of Boone's con-
nection with the affair, but neither he nor the other
leaders had yet concluded as to the position the pioneer
would eventually take.
This being the case his efforts to draw Boone into a

statement or admission which could be used to impli-
cate him, will be at once admitted to be a suitable
course of conduct on the part of Howell.
Boone's general reputation was based purely upon
his roaming life and while he was known to be fearless
;
and energetic in the pursuit of game, and courageous

where Indians were in question, he was generally con-
sidered to be unacquainted with and unversed in the
ways of the white man and the tricks and turns cus-
tomary to society.
The conspirators already believed, and Howell espec-
ially, that either by threats or cajolement the pioneer
could be induced to cast his lot with them,
Howell, therefore, thanked fortune inwardly for the

chance that had thrust so important an instrument in
his way, and determined that no effort should be lost
on his part to inveigle Boone into implication with the
designs of himself and his coadjutors.

But, as will perhaps have been perceived already,
Boone's general reputation, excepting so far as concerned
his special vocation inlife, was a very misguiding one.
The pioneer, though rough and untutored in the
ordinary ways of men, and, moreover, uneducated to

any such extent as would fit him for social or official
position, was, nevertheless, a man of strong mind and

insight, which qualities easily prepared
clear natural
him to meet any question which might come in his

way. Suspicious also, if not by nature, by the constant
habits of his life, his first impressions of men would not
be in their favor. It would, indeed, take much longer
for a man to ingratiate himself with such a character
as Daniel Boone than with one more familiar with men,
and more accustomed to their methods.
In the present instance Boone's natural suspicion was
peculiarly on the alert from the danger that he felt sur-

rounded him, so long as he was in the immediate
neighborhood of the Hillsborough difficulty.
He had not scanned Howell's face for nothing, nor

had he watched his manner and mode of conducting
himself without forming a pretty shrewd judgment as
to the nature of the man. He was, therefore, quite
well prepared to answer any questions that might be
put to him, and at the same time determined not to
DANIEL BOONE. 67
commit himself against the interests which he believed

were those of Judge Anderson.
his friend
Supper being over, and Howell's wife engaged in
clearing off the table and attending to her domestic

duties, the two men drew stools to the fire and sat
down. Howell filled his pipe and offered the same

luxury to his guest, which was, however, refused.
"
You don't smoke ? " said Howell.
" 1
No, I never 1'arned, and it ain't much use of my doin

it now. In the woods, the smoke of a pipe as well as
the light may often carry information you don't want
sent to people you don't want to get it."
" It's a
great comforter," said the other.
" "
Very likely," responded Boone, and I am glad to
see others enjoy it, and I've nothin' to say agin it as to
them."
"Tobacco is
awfully dear, these times," continued
Howell as he puffed the smoke luxuriously in the air.
"
Then I wouldn't smoke," said Boone, senten-
tiously.
The other stared at him before making any comment
on this observation. Presently he continued :
"
Tobacco is awfully dear, but it ain't any worse than
anything else. What the frosts and floods spares, the
tax-gatherer eats up, and between the two we're pretty

nigh starved."
"
You look well fed, my friend," remarked Boone.
Howell grunted in dissent to this.
"
Well, when I say starved, I don't mean to be taken
that way exactly. Of course I get enough to eat.
The trouble is it costs mor'n it ought ter, and we're
kept forever in debt, and can't lay up nothin'. Don't
"
you find it so up your way ?
"
Well, no, not exactly," replied Boone.
" We have
our ups and downs. As for me, I don't take much in-
terest in the farming, except now and then, but my

wife is pretty forehanded, and a good manager, and my
father's thare, an' my brothers, an' the boys are growin'
up, an' bein' of some use, and I believe we manage to
get up as good crops as our neighbors, and they don't

complain."
"
Well, it's different down in your section. You see,
you're so far from the seat of government that it costs

more for the tax-collectors and sheriffs and them to go
out and rob you than it would come to, and so I expect
that's the reason why you get on better'n we do.
"
But I tell you what it is, Boong, it's the truth I'm
tellin' you, that we're awfully pressed down here and
don't get our rights nohow, and there are a good many
of my way of thinkin', and that little matter over at
Hillsborough," and here Howell took his pipe out of
hismouth and pointed it at Boone, while he looked

" that
him earnestly in the face, little matter over at
Hillsborough is only a beginning. I know you was

into it, and I know the part you took into it, and I ain't
afraid to speak toyou about it. You've got the repute

of being a straightforward kind of man, and I don't
believe that whatever your opinions might be, that
you're the kind to turn informer, or put any of us into

trouble."
DANIEL BOONE. 69
Here he knocked the ashes out of his pipe on the

hearth, and settled himself to see what would come
from these remarks.
Boone had never moved a muscle of his face, while
staring at the other, evidently fully understanding the

nature of he was saying. He
all did not reply for a
moment, and when he did, it was in his usual calm and

deliberate fashion.
"
you know about what happened at Hillsborough,
If
there's no use o' my tellin' you an' if you know it

;
right, you must know that I was not to blame for the
part I had in it, which was only to protect that boy of

mine from harm at the hands of a strong man, who
ought to have treated him more tenderly."
" "
Oh, you're right there," said the other, and that
old scoundrel of a Scotchman didn't get more'n he
deserved. If I'd been there, and I think I'm sorry I
wasn't, I'd have been tempted to settle him on the
spot, or my name isn't Rednap Howell. But what I
can't onderstand, Boone, about you is, why you cut

down that cussed Sheriff that everybody hates, who
never did a good turn in his life for any one, and who
ought to have been hung up years ago."
Boone's eyes twinkled, and he answered this chal-
lenge on the instant.

"
You Mr. Howell, what was going on among
see,
your people down there was none of my business, but

this you speak of was right in my line."
" "
Howdo you mean ? said the other.
"
Why, shootin'. I'm used to taking a good shot when
70
I find it, whether it's peeling the scalp off a squirrel at

the top of a pine tree, or puttin' a ball through an Injun,
if I ketch him my side of any tree. When I saw that
rope with a man dangling onto the end of it, I couldn't
resist the temptation, as you say, of cutting it and if ;
I do say it, it was as pretty a shot as I ever made in
my life."
Howell looked at him sharply, to see if he really

meant what he said, but it would have taken a very
much keener eye than have detected the thoughts
his to
of the pioneer. finally He

concluded to accept the ex-
planation given, but at the same time was shrewd

enough to turn it to his own advantage.
" I
can onderstand that feeling, Boone. I ain't much
of a shot myself, though I can knock over a buck at a
hundred paces with my old brown Bess ;
and have seen
the time when I've done that squirrel-trick you tell of,
and I don't know but your temptation ought to ex-
plain your conduct. But if that's so, and you ain't
got any feelin's in favor of the Sheriff and his kind,
why, it follows you ain't got any objections to jining

us and when I say us, you see I put myself in your
;
power, because you know just what that means without

my tellin' you."
Boone saw the trap, and had indeed seen it when he
made the remark which developed it.
He knew enough of the character of the men repre-
sented by the one with whom
he was conversing, to
see that it would not answer for him to be put in the
wrong at this juncture.
DANIEL BOONE. 71
" I've "

got no call," he said, presently, to interfere
in your local fights. I don't live here, and my inter,
ests, such as they long ways from here. I am

are, are a
on my way home, and there's no telling where I may

be this time thirty days but while I don't mean to
;
mix in other people's quarrels, I am free to say that I'm

not goin* to turn informer, as you put it, even if I
knew anything about the matter, which I don't."

" That's
no more'n I'd expect from a man of your
kind. But you say that you've no interests in these
parts, and you live a long ways from here, and you
don't want to mix with local quarrels.
" You know your own
Now, I ain't gainsaying that.
matters better'n I do, but I can tell you, Daniel Boone,
till the whole country
this here thing ain't goin' to stop
is roused up to it. Already, not this county alone, nor

Granville, but half the Colony is into it, an' that's get-
tin' pretty near Yadkin, where you are.
" Before this time
thirty days they'll be talking of
this thingup your way, and when the fight comes your
people ain't going to let us be put down, or I don't
know the kind of men you're a specimen of.
"
Now, I'm thinkin' 'twill be better for you to be in
at the first, and take hands with us while there's some

danger in it, than to wait till we've fought the fight
an' won the victory, and be left out then to be pointed
at. You ain't the kind of man to like that."
Boone flushed slightly at these words. He was a
man equally courageous in thought and in action.
The picture of himself in a cowardly attitude was not

palatable. Still he remembered Judge Anderson, and

measured his words.
" Before "
thirty days are over," he said, I may be
hundreds of miles from here, where your doings won't
reach me, and I mayn't return for a twelvemonth, or
two of 'em. You see I've made one journey of two
years, and Imay make another. What 'd be the use to
you or to me of my mixing myself with something I
"
couldn't carry out ?
" You're "
really going away, then, are you ? said
Howell.
" That's what I'm
expectin'."
" An* "
you'll be gone a year or two ?
" I
may."
"
You and Judge Anderson are pretty thick togeth-
er," continued Howell, slyly.

" We were born same
in the year, and he and my
father were friends before we came to Carolina."
"
Well, you're pretty good friends anyway."
" I like the Judge, and I guess the Judge don't dis-
like me. We don't see each other often."

" It was kind of curious your being down at Hills-
"
borough just then, wasn't it ?
" You woman has got some

Well, no. see my old
relations in Orange, and I come down to see them, and
Hillsborough bein' near by, I thought I'd take it in my

way."
"And then you thought you'd gooff with Judge An-
"
derson to Granville, which was not in your way?
"Well, you see, the Judge and I, bein' old friends,

DANIEL BOONE. 73
an* he bein' there, when he asked me to come and pay

him a visit, couldn't well refuse, as I'd plenty of time
I
" after he had
Particularly," he added, helped me out
of my trouble with the Scotchman."
This was not exactly the fact, but it was a quick
thought of Boone's, and it did him good service. Up
to this point Howell had had the best of the argu-
ment, but this idea threw a new color on Boone's posi-

tion, and the Regulator was not unwilling to accept it.
He had learned all he could expect to know of
Boone's designs, and the conversation left him, fortu-
nately for the other, of the opinion with which he

started that Boone had no predilections for or against
the Regulators ;
that he certainly would not do any-
thing to injure them ;
and that if the time ever came
when he would be forced to take sides one way or the
other, it was at least an even chance that he would go

with them.
It was now growing late, and when Boone suggested
that he was fatigued and would like to retire, the other
made no objections, but showed him to one of the
rooms behind the one in which they were sitting, and
where little Jimmy was already in bed and asleep. It
did not take the hunter long to follow his example ;
and though he could hear the voices of Howell and his
wife in earnest conversation on the other side of the
partition, he could not hear their words, and deep sleep

soon overpowered him.
Onthe following morning Boone was up at day-
break, but found that Howell and his wife had pre-
4
ceded him, and that preparations were already far ad.

vanced for breakfast. Having partaken of this meal,
wfcich consisted of bacon and corn dodgers, washed down
with cool spring water, the hunter mounted his horse,
and, having on his host receiving a fair

first insisted
sum in compensation for his hospitality, he bade the

family a hearty farewell, and resumed his journey.
No sooner were the hunter and his son fairly out of
sight and hearing, than Howell, who had stood with

his wife and children watching them ride away, said
hurriedly :
"
Mary, I'm goin' to see Roberts."
" What do you want to see him for ?"
"
Well, I ain't altogether satisfied with the way that
man talked last night. He spoke glib enough, but now
that the words are cold they don't exactly seem to suit
me as well as they did then. Anyhow, I'm goin'. I'll
tell Roberts and the rest, and they can take the respon-
sibility, and I'll just saddle my horse, and go while the

fever's on."
This was no sooner said than done, and in fifteen
minutes, Howell, mounted on a rough-looking, but fast
horse, was galloping in the opposite direction to that

taken by the hunter, and on his way to Hillsborough,
in which town resided Roberts, engaged in conducting
the general practice of law, besides being the chief per-
sonage among the Regulators.

CHAPTER -V.
In which the Reader is introduced to the hero and heroine of this story ai
well as to some other important personages.
IN what is now the county of Guilford, North Caro-
lina, and at a point about sixty miles west from the

residence of Judge Anderson in Granville, there stood,
at the time of which we are writing, on an eminence
overlooking a considerable valley spread out at its feet,
a fine mansion of more massive structure and broader
proportions than was usual in those days.

The tendency of immigration into North Carolina
had been rather to the west than nearer the seaboard
up to this time, and there a more considerable popula-
tion had settled than would otherwise have been the
case, owing to the fact that grants of land made orig-
inallyby the proprietors of the Carolinas, and afterward

conceded by the Crown on the purchase of the country
from them, had been offered and made on much more
liberal terms and at far lower rates than was the cast
with the lands farther east.
The Carolinas had been settled very largely by the

Irish and Scotch, drawn thither by the opportunity of-
fered of obtaining land at such remarkably low prices.
Among the latter people were not a few of the best
gentry of Ireland. Men who, for one reason or another

(75)
70 iti*. LIFE AND TIMES OF
from a roving disposition and this was particularly

so in the case of young men coming into their property ;
from a love of adventure, as to which no country prom,

ised fairer than the American Colonies or, from dis. ;
taste for the social institutions of their native land and

a desire for change and variety.
It was perhaps in some degree due to all of these
reasons put together, that Squire Hugh O'Brien, of a
well-born and well-to-do Irish family, had emigrated
some ten years before the period of our story, and had
settled, with his belongings, at the locality to which we
are now about to direct the attention of the reader.
The Squire had come into his father's property only
a year prior to his emigration, a course upon which he
had determined some time before the death of the old
Squire had made it feasible.

He was at this time a man in the prime of life, about
thirty-five years of age, educated at Trinity College,
had been accustomed to the best resources of Dublin
as to society, and for whom foreign travel had done all
that was essential or possible in the adding of culture

and refinement to a nature well born and bred, and
fully susceptible of assuming these qualities.
His family consisted of his wife who was the daugh-
ter of an Irish Earl, and who had passed several seasons
in London, and been presented at Court ;

a daughter,
at the time of their removal to the Colonies, not yet in
her teens; and a son, a bright boy of about seven years.

The Squire having turned so much of his paternal
estate as was under his control into money, had in-
DANIEL BOONE. 77
vested a portion of this in a large property, consisting

at the time of wood land, well watered this investment
;
leaving him, however, with a handsome sum in British
consols, then just organized under the act of 1757, and
already a favorite security for investment throughout

the British Islands.
The lands which had been purchased by Squire
O'Brien had been carefully examined and surveyed by
his agents before buying, and consisting of many hun-
dred acres, formed an estate which, under proper treat-

ment, could hardly fail to become of great value.
This prospective increase had been foreseen by the
Squire, who was a farmer far in advance of the average

in his knowledge of the best methods of treating the
soil, and of taking advantage of whatever natural con-
ditions might be presented. He had, in emigrating,
supplied himself with the best men from his own farms,
and on arriving in Carolina had wisely supplemented
these by the addition of overseers accustomed to the
management of slave labor, which was, of course, the
only labor to be used to advantage in this country and

at this time. Availing himself of the best of the rude
tools then employed by farmers, and even in many
instances improving on these from his own skill and
inventive faculty, his cultivation of the land had proved
even more successful than he had anticipated.
At the time of which we write, his extensive and rich
were an attraction which frequently brought visits
fields
from foreigners inspecting the country with a view to

settlement, and amply repaid the labor and skill ex-
;8 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
pended upon them in the remuneration of large and

excellent crops. Fine timber filled such of the wood
land as was not cleared for farming ; considerable
streams enabled the easy transportation of logs to
whatever part of the estate might be desired and the ;
enormous quantities of game of all kinds with which the

forest abounded, supplied the Squire's table to an extent
an i of a quality not dreamed of in the castles of Scot-
land, or the old manor houses of England or Ireland.

The farm buildings were numerous and extensive.
In the center, but removed a considerable distance
from these, and overlooking them, was the family man-
sion, which, now ten years old, had begun to assume an
appearance of antiquity sufficient to give it the tone

and dignity which should properly characterize such a
structure.
A
long and broad two-storied stone building, built
of material quarried on the estate, it was massive, yet
handsome and graceful, having a piazza running the
full length in front, with a roof supported by Corin-
thian columns.
An extensive and beautiful lawn sloped down to the
stream which rushed with considerable force a few hun-
dred yards below. Fine old trees shaded this lawn, and
made the broad and well-kept carriage-way to the house
always an attractive and interesting drive. The stables
were commodious, and contained fine saddle-horses, while
large and well -constructed and thoroughly -equipped

barns were occupied by the best breeds of cattle, then,
being first imported into the Colonies.

DANIEL BOONE, 79
was a bright and beautiful spring day at the time

It
of which we have been relating, and the estate which

we have attempted to describe, presented as fair an as-
pect as could well be imagined.

The the grassy lawn carefully cut
luxuriant foliage ;
and trimmed ;
the negroes seen
in the distant fields
working, apparently cheerful and happy the negro ;
quarters, liberally and well kept the overseers riding

;
about, directing farming operations ;

the songs of
many birds ; the bloom of blossoms on the trees and

in the fieldsand the distant sound of the wood-chop-
;
per's axe all of this afforded a delightful scene, pleas-
ing at once to eye and ear.

Beautiful, indeed, it appeared to two young people
who could be seen crossing the rude bridge that spanned
the stream, and entering the drive which led to the
mansion.
A young man, handsome and finely proportioned,
who rode his spirited horse like a Centaur, and whose
dress, the usual riding costume of the gentry of the
period, was eminently picturesque ;

and beside him a
lovely girl, clad in a riding habit, whose appearance
gave token equally of the fearless and accomplished
horsewoman, and the cultured and refined lady. These
were the two in question.
As the pair reached the solid road after passing the
bridge, the mettlesome steeds, which had been curbed

moment, started into a brisk canter, and in a
in for the
few moments brought their riders to the broad piazza

of Squire O'Brien's residence.
go THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
The cavalier leaped from his horse, and in an instant
was ready to help the young lady alight. Almost at
the same moment half a dozen colored servants made

their appearance, and led the smoking horses around
to the stables.
Giving the lady his hand to assist her to ascend the

flight of steps which led to the piazza, while she gath-
ered up her habit and displayed a dainty foot by the
movement, he said to her :
"
Well, Maude, are you tired after our long excur-
"
sion ?
"
Not in the least, Harry. How could I be with such
an escort ?"
" could half believe what you say," the
I wish I
young man whispered in her ear, as several persons

appeared at the doorway above them.
She gave him a quick, flashing look, and said, archly :
" It would
hardly be worth my while to encourage
you in a ^z^ belief."
The young man dropped her hand and looked con-
fused he was about to reply he did not, for at
;
but if
that moment they were interrupted by Squire O'Brien,

his wife, and one or two others who had come forward
from the interior of the house to meet them.
"
" Welcome home," said the Squire. We began to
think you had either been lost, which was not likely,
or had run away with each other, which, to tell you
the truth, was the solution of your delay which I pre-
ferred."
The girl prudently made no comment upon this salu-

DANIEL BOONE. 81
tation, but, bowing gracefully, passed into the house,
leaving her companion to get out of the difficulty as

best he could. Our young gentleman had by this time
recovered his equanimity, and was not in the least em-

barrassed.
"
Your conclusion, Uncle, has at least the merit of
originality, and I am quite of your opinion. Of the

two it is to be preferred. So far as I am concerned, I
should decidedly rather have run away with Coz, than

have had the disgrace of losing herin the woods, not
to speak of myself."
" "
Hugh," said Lady O'Brien to her husband, I am
surprised that you should make light of serious mat-
ters. What a dreadful suggestion, to be sure, that
Harry should run away with our Maude ;

and how very
"
low !
" was only a

My dear, it jest, as Harry understood it,
I am quite certain."
" Excuse
me, Uncle," observed the other, as though
"I
quite seriously. supposed you were in dead earnest.
But I will, if your Ladyship will allow me, retire to
dress for dinner, and by and by we will relate our ad-
ventures."
Escaping thus, he left the party, and retired to his

room. Lady O'Brien, however, who was a good deal of
a martinet with her husband, and had no idea whatso-
ever of the value or uses of a jest, did not fail to im-
prove the opportunity, by taking his arm and leading

him to one side, while she administered a continuance
of her reproof for his frivolity.
4*
82 THh LIFE AND TIMES OF
We willnow turn our attention to the remaining
persons who had made their appearance on the piazza
with the Squire and his lady. These were three in
number, and though they had kept silence while the

colloquy was going on, they were evidently amused
auditors.
Two were gentlemen one a man about fifty,
of these :
with hair slightly turning, and with a finely-cut and in-
telligent face, a tall and impressive figure, and, from his
dress, evidently a clergyman the other was a slim

;
and graceful though muscular-appearing young gentle-

man, rather foppish in his attire, and with an air of
elegance about him which showed that he was a person
of condition. They were, in fact, the Reverend Orin
Bullock and young Thomas Hardeman, whose father
owned a neighboring property.
The third of the grcup was a lady of advanced years,
whose silvery hair worn in the fashion known as Pom-
padour, then prevalent in society, gave her a majestic and
dignified appearance, which was sustained by a tall and
rather stout, though well-proportioned figure, set off in
a black silk brocade dress, and laces whose tint and
texture displayed their age and value.
This lady was Madame Rawlings, as she was always
addressed, being French by birth, the wife of one of the
officers of Council of the Governor of the province, and
who was visiting Squire O'Brien with her husband.

The Squire was by this time at one extreme end of
the piazza, and engaged in what appeared to be very

earnest conversation with his wife.
DANIEL BOONE. 83
" I should "
say," observed young Hardeman, that
the Squire was getting what the natives here call a
pretty lively setting down."

The rector turned his face the other way, and did
not look altogether pleased at the remark, but Madame
Rawlings laughed outright, apparently enjoying the
situation with all the delight of a woman of the world,
which she was by experience and proclivity at once.

"
You are a sad boy, Thomas," she remarked, " and
"
should not make comments on your elders
" And betters," interjected the youth in reply to this
.reproval.
"
I did not say so," she continued, " but you are wel-
come to the improvement."
" Dear "
Madame," he replied, would it not be hard
to cut us off on account of our youth from enjoyment
of the vanities into which we also must doubtless fall
"
in our mature years?
For answer to this she tapped him on the arm with
her delicate white hand, and glanced in the direction
of the rector, who was studiously contemplating the
landscape.
Hardeman shrugged his shoulders ; then, turning on
his heel, he brought forward two chairs, one of which
he offered to Madame Rawlings. Turning to the rec-
tor, he said :
My dear sir, we have some time to wait for dinner.

"
Will you not be seated ?
The rector turned sharply about, but quite incompe-

tent to withstand the courteous manner of the other,
84 THE LII-E A.\l> TIMES OF
bowed, and with a word of thanks took the proffered

chair, which he established beside that of Madame Raw-
lings. Under cover of her pocket-handkerchief, that
lady was making an obvious endeavor to conceal her

laughter at the quick-witted movement of her young
friend, and its entire success.
He, however, with as serious an air as if the idea of

making game of a grave and reverend doctor in the-
ology had never entered his decorous mind, commenced
a conversation with Dr. Bullock, which was apparently
of interest to the latter, and the two were immediately
engaged earnestly in question, rejoinder, attack, and
counter-attack, which, indeed, was the constant habit
of their lives.
The Squire and Lady O'Brien having now concluded
the matter between them, approached the others, and
the former addressed himself to Madame Rawlings,
while her Ladyship retired.
"
Your husband has not returned," he said.
" Not yet, Squire. Indeed, it may be some hours
before he arrives."
" Let
me see he left here on Tuesday, and this is
Friday."
"
Oh, yes. He has had ample time to go and re-
turn; but I fancy from what he told me, that the
troubles Hillsborough may detain him possibly
at
longer than he anticipated."

" I know " of the de-
little," responded the Squire,
tails of those troubles but the bare outline he gave us,

and a few flying rumors with regard to the riotous
DANIEL BOONE. 85
proceedings. Are you of the opinion that he will find

"
it necessary to take immediate steps in the matter ?
" He seemed
No, I imagine not. only desirous of
informing himself fully, or as fully as was practicable,
as to the nature and objects of the outbreak."
"
Well, I could have told him that," said the Squire,
" The nature of the outbreak is
briskly. conspiracy
and on the part of a number of malignants, and
riot
the object is to save themselves from paying any taxes."

" "
Papa, are you not a little hard on them ?
The Squire turned quickly, and observed that his

daughter had approached noiselessly, and now stood
close beside him.
" Maude
Pooh, pooh, you know nothing of these
!
affairs. What a democrat she is, to be sure " he !
added, appealing to the Madame.

"
My
dear," said the latter, addressing the
young
lady, "if you had had my training in France, you
would hesitate to become what your father jokingly,
I am sure, calls you."
"
Dear Madame ! believe me, papa means just what
he says. He thinks I am a terrible democrat because
I can not bear to see poor people who can not help
themselves, put upon by those in power."
Madame Rawlings colored slightly at this, and the
young girl, perceiving, with her ready woman's wit,
the inference that might be drawn from the remark,
hastened to explain it.
"
Pardon me, Madame. You must know that I could
not refer in that speech to those high in office in the
King's service. But you, with your thorough acquaint-

ance with affairs in the Colonies, will be willing to ad.
mit, I am sure, that those high officials are not always
successful in their choice of subordinates."
"
Well, laughed the Squire, as Madame Raw-
girl,"
"
lings' face cleared, you were getting yourself into a
pretty scrape."
" But
you must admit that she got herself out of it
with a delicacy and neatness which even you, with all
your Irish quickness, could hardly excel."
"You are both of you so complimentary," said

Maude, and at the same moment she courtesied grace-
" that
fully to the two, I can not but plume myself on
an error which brings me such delicate flattery."
"Ha! Ha!" laughed Madame Rawlings. "It will
never do for you to go through life on that system.
An error, tkough graciously received, or gracefully
atoned for, should never be permitted to become the
parent of others."
" "
No, indeed !
No, indeed ! said the Squire.
" make a most disagreeable
Errors, thus perpetuated,
and uncomfortable brood."
" "
Well, papa," pursued Maude, I have not yet got
the Madame either to assent or dissent to my proposi-
tion."
" "
What a logician the girl is ! and Madame Raw-
lings touched Maude's cheek daintily with her forefin-
"
ger. My dear, I very willingly concede that this
beautiful country has not been as successful in its hu-
man as in the rest of its natural productions, and that
DANIEL SOONE. 87
the natives, when elevated in station, do not in
the least honor either their improved position or the
people among whom they have had the fortune ot

misfortune to be born."
" How does that strike your logical mind, young
"
lady ? said the Squire.
By time the rector and young Hardeman had

this
become interested in the conversation going on near

them, and were both listening earnestly.
Maude's lithe figure seemed to rise several inches in
stature. Passages at arms were not in the least uncom-
mon between the Madame and herself.
" How unfortunate it is," she said, " that at least one
charge the gentlemen are pleased to make against ladies,

and which one might wish were inaccurate, is unfortu-
nately so often proved to be true."

" And that charge ? " said Madame Rawlings, bridling.
" That
they can never say a pleasant thing without
immediately counteracting its agreeable influence by
enunciating a sharp one."
"
Really, Maude," began the Squire deprecatingly.
The her hand, signifying by the gesture
girl lifted
that she had not concluded.
" A moment's reflection," she continued,
"
would
have told you, Madame, that the subordinate officers in
this Colony, to whom I have alluded, are not, as a rule,
natives. Quite on the contrary, they are usually Scotch

and English adventurers, who, owing to misfortunes (we
will say) at home, have come hither to retrieve them-
selves ; and who are too often sustained by authority

which would be more wisely and generously displayed
in supporting the honest and respectable, though poor,
natives, whom you contemn."

The girl's color had heightened her small, shapely
;
head was poised erect on her graceful neck, and her

clear gray eyes showed defiance, ready for any one who
might contradict her. She looked like a beautiful creat

ure at bay, and charged upon by a multitude of pur-
suers.
Her position in an argument of the character of this

one, was, in fact, not agreeable, for all of those present
were in their hearts opposed to her opinions, and she
knew quite well that the next moment would witness
an avalanche of opposition pouring upon her devoted
head.
She had barely ceased speaking, however, when her
cousin appeared. Drawing a long breath she cast him
a look over her shoulder, which was so appealing, and
at the same time so intelligent, that the young man
appreciated instinctively the situation. Approaching,

he said quickly :
"What is it, Coz? Are we poor natives under the

rod again ? You see caught your I last
words, although
I have not the least idea what has gone before."
At this moment the loud clang of the dinner-bell

was heard, and as the Squire gave a sigh of relief, Mad-
ame Rawlings rose to her feet, and masking her discom-
inopportune arrival of reinforce-
fiture at the, to her,
ments for Maude, accepted the proffered arm of the

rector, and led the way within the house.
DANIEL BOONE, 89
Harry claimed the just reward for his fortunate ap-
pearance by taking his cousinby the hand and follow-

ing, while the Squire and Hardeman brought up the
rear, the latter remarking, after his customary cynical
fashion, as they crossed the threshold :

"
Squire, that was the hottest fire I ever saw that
didn't get past smouldering."
"
My boy," said the other, clapping him on the shoul-
" don't
der, be in a hurry. One can never be certain that
he has surmounted a difficulty until its full nature at
least has been presented to him."
CHAPTER VI.
i
How Daniel Boone disappeared, and how the most important characters in
our narrative were set searching for him, and with what success ; with a
hint at a romance to be hereinafter further developed.
" "
THE dining-room at Mount Mourne which was
the name the Squire had given his mansion, after a range
of hills in Ireland was a large and lofty room, wains-
coted in oak and furnished in the same material. A
long and heavy oak table occupied the center of the
room ;
a massive sideboard, brilliant with silver plate,
nearly one end of it and carved arm-chairs, with

filled ;
a few smaller tables, completed the furniture.

On the walls, besides framed engravings of game, or
sporting scenes, were hung antlers and other trophies of
the hunt. A large open fire-place with a broad mantel,
the whole of handsomely carved woodwork, displayed an
enormous fire of great logs ;
for at this season in this
part of Carolina the evenings were usually cold. Hand-

some candelabra, with wax candles, were placed in
readiness for lighting the table, which was covered with
a damask table-cloth, and displayed a fine service of
Dresden china. The dining-hour being two o'clock,

artificial illumination was not needed.
Everything about the apartment, as indeed was the

(90)
DANIEL BOONS. gi
case throughout the dwelling, gave evidence of great

wealth and excellent taste.
Lady O'Brien, although a member of the oldest aris-
tocracy of Ireland, had been trained, as was the custom

in those days, in every department of housewifery, and
was a thorough and capable manager. Although in- 4
clined to pride herself on her birth and early associa-

tions and education, and while being, withal, a stickler
for all the forms and ceremonies of social courtesy and
manner, she was not the less an excellent and lavish

hostess.
The partywho now sat down to table included be-

sides those we have named, Mile. Raimonde, who had
been Maude's French teacher and governess in her ear-
lier youth, and had accompanied the family to America,
and remained on as a companion to Maude and a

still
firmly-attached member of the household. She was a

prim-looking, rather graceful spinster of about forty
years of age, who said little unless addressed ;
who
spoke English with a very slight accent, however, and
correctly as to grammar, and could converse intelligent-
ly on most of the questions of the day.

A place left vacant Madame Rawlings
beside that of
betokened that the absent husband of that lady was
not unexpected.
The servants who
waited at table were negroes, and
in livery, this being a concession to the notions of Lady
O'Brien, willingly accorded by her husband, who, in-

deed, interfered little or none in her management of
the domestic affairs, it being perfectly understood be-

g2 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
tween them that she was to have as little voice in the
direction of those which were external.
Although the Squire frequently antagonized his

daughter's rather advanced ideas with regard to repub-
licanism and democracy, he was himself not in the least
given to very pronounced aristocratic opinions. In his

treatment of the farm hands and of his overseers his
manner was cordial and and he was universally
genial,
liked. Among his equals he was affable and agreeable,
but held himself with dignity.

General conversation went on as the meal progressed,
the party having tacitly agreed to dismiss the subject
which had occupied several of them immediately before
that meal, and which seemed to have reached a point
where it was not desirable for it to be immediately re-
newed. But it was in -the minds of several of them, as
the occasional glances between Maude and her cousin,

and the somewhat conventional manner of Madame Raw-
lings surely betokened. A diversion
brought this sub-
ject uppermost when the meal was about half through.
The clattering of a horse's hoofs had been heard, and
Madame Rawlings remarked briefly :
" "
That is my husband !
And in a few moments the door opened to admit the

gentleman in question, who, immediately, after general
salutation, took his seat beside his wife and became en-
gaged in discussing the viands before him. He was

not permitted, however, to eat at peace, being at oncq
beset with questions from all directions.
DANIEL BOONE. 93
" How did you get through the Hillsboiough mat-
ter?" asked the Squire.
" "
And do tell us," chimed in his lady, that unfor-
if
"
tunate Scotchman, McCandless, was killed or no !
"
And were there many of the poor people injured ?
asked Maude, and nearly every one looked disturbed at
the question.
"
One at a time, my good friends," said Mr. Raw-
lings, who was a reserved-looking gentleman of about
fifty years, who stooped at the shoulders, and whose
face was innocent of beard or whisker a man appar- ;
ently cut out for a diplomatic or official position, if

such characters should signify their vocations in their
countenances.
" am
One at a time, if you please consider that I
on his Majesty's business, besides being, as you all
know, not in the least given to talking on my own

account."
There was a general laugh at this, for the Governor's
counselor was noted for talking a great deal and saying
very little. His reserve, so far as reticence was con-

cerned, existing only in his face, where, like Lord Bur-
leigh's nod, it stood for any amount of wisdom.
" he continued, as the
But, to tell you the' truth,"
last course was being removed, and dessert and coffee
were placed on the table. ".Thank you," he added in

parenthesis,bowing to the Squire, who was drinking
wine with him. " To tell you the truth, I have done
nothing but listen, since I have been away, to all sorts
of people telling about all sorts of wrongs, until I feel

as had been deprived of my own
if I rights, and am
quite ready to talk about any subject in the world
except this one.'

" "
But, my dear sir,"put in Hardeman, that's hard-
ly kind to us who are so anxious and so interested."
" it is not altogether a pleasant topic, as indeed
Well,
these local squabbles seldom are ; but in a nutshell it
amounts to just this :

McCandless, who is a grocer by
trade and tax-collector by profession, does not stop
with giving short weight in his groceries, but applies
the same principle reversed to his mode of collecting
taxes. Of that there can be no sort of doubt. Whether
it is the one grievance or the other which is uppermost

in the minds of his enemies, I do not know. But that
he has enemies for one or the other reason, and per-
haps both, his bruised and shattered frame relates with
unquestionable accuracy."
" Was he
badly hurt ?" inquired the Squire.
" Yes. The
Pretty nearly pounded to pieces. affair
begun by his putting a boy out of his store for impu-
dence, as he said though this is denied by others

and by his being badly thrashed by the boy's father,
one Daniel Boone, a hunter from up back of here
somewhere, and who is suspected to be in league with
the Regulators."
" Oh I know who had not
!
him," said Harry Calvert,
" He He
yet spoken. is no Regulator. is a very brave,
straightforward man, who has gone farther west, I guess,

in the woods, and seen more hairbreadth 'scapes from
bears and Indians than anybody else in the Carolinas."
DANIEL BOONS. 95
"
may be," said Mr. Rawlings,
Well, however that
" he
continuing, began the trouble, intentionally or not
He retrieved himself afterward by a remarkable feat ol
marksmanship."
"
Indeed What was that ? " said several about the
!
table.
"
Why, there was a fellow named Caleb Glenn ie, a
Sheriff who came with Judge Anderson from Granville,
in pursuance of his duties in the court-room, and who
seems to have been a particular object of popular ani-

mosity, for what reason I did not discover. However,
the rioters captured him and were about hanging him,
having proceeded so far as to have the rope about his

neck and himself dangling in the air, when this man
Boone fired a ball from his rifle which cut the rope in
two, and let the man to the ground. He was not so
much injured but that he was able to escape to his
friends.
"
Judge Anderson very properly, considering the state
Df the town for by this time they were pillaging the
stores, burning the houses, and shooting with their

rifles and horse-pistols, right and left the Judge, I say,
concluded not to hold court, and withdrew with his
people to Granville."
" How was
the riot finally quelled ?" asked Madame
Rawlings.
"
Why, by the people themselves. I mean those of
the town, who, seeing their property being destroyed,

however much they sympathized with the Regulators,
could not willingly submit to loss on their own account.
" But the most curious incident of the whole matter
occurred some two or three days after the affair, that is
to say, one day last week, and in regard to this very

Daniel Boone of whom I have spoken.
" It
appears that he had incurred the enmity of the
Regulators, although he was the first one to attack
McCandless. They could not overlook his rescue of
the Sheriff, while his departure with Judge Anderson
and a visit that he appears to have made at the Judge's
house, still further aroused their anger against him.
After he left Granville on his homeward journey, he
stopped overnight with a fellow by the name of Howell,
Rednap Howell, who is himself suspected of being con-
cerned with the Regulators.
" Boone left there in the
morning with his boy little
on his horse before him, and continued on to a point a

few miles from Hillsborough, where he had a relative
residing. He stopped there part of one day and over-
night, and departed on the following morning.
" A few hours later the little
boy came back to the
house crying bitterly, and stated that his father had
been surrounded by a band of men who had attacked
him, pulled him from his horse, and though he fought
hard, and succeeded in wounding one of them severely,
had overpowered him.
"
They then placed him on his horse, tied his hands
behind him, and his feet under the horse's belly, and
led him away, leaving the boy to take care of himself.
The little had followed the road, and found
fellow his
way back to the point whence they started."

DANIEL BOONE. 97
"Why, what a terrible act !" said Maude, whose feel-
ings were at once enlisted in favor of the hunter,
to whose bravery and energy her cousin had borne

witness.
"
Yes, young lady, you are right," said her father,
" was a terrible act, and you must remember that
it
the atrocious villains who conducted it were the very
ones whom you are inclined to favor."
The girl colored up and hardly knew what to say. As

before, Harry Calvert came to her rescue.
" should these men
But, Mr. Rawlings, why attack
Boone and carry him off if there were any grounds
for the suspicion that he was one of them, as you hinted

a while ago ?"
" And added Maude, plucking up courage,
certainly,"
" if there were any truth in that, Judge Anderson would
not have invited him to visit him at his residence."
" I can hardly explain the matter myself.
Well, I
only heard of this latter occurrence after I had left
Hillsborough, and was on my way hither, and what I
say is based upon rumor."

" It " that
may be," remarked the Squire, the Regu-
lators hoped to cajole or threaten Boone into joining
them."
"
Very likely," said the other.
" I don't " from what I
believe," observed Harry,
know of Boone, that any attempt of that kind will meet
with success. He is not the sort of man to be either
cajoled or threatened into any course to which he did

not give his approval."
5
"
But, in the meantime," cried Maude, excitedly, "this
unfortunate man is held in confinement, perhaps abused
and tortured by his captors, and as for that," she added,
" I
looking at her father, know nothing, of course, about
the particular men who have seized Boone. All my
commiseration goes to the mass of people whom I see
aroused to acts of violence by their necessitous con-
dition and ill-treatment."
" "
Yes, yes," said the Squire, quickly. You are all
right in theory, girl, but you had much better keep

your opinions theoretical, and not attempt to identify
yourself with individual cases."
"
But, certainly, Squire," said the rector, who up to
this time had been an interested but silent listener,
" Miss Maude is right in taking into consideration the
case of this man Boone. have heard of him, and
I
have heard nothing but good. He seems to be, from

all accounts, an honest fellow, and it certainly seems
that this capture by the Regulators should be consid-

ered as to his advantage. Something ought to be done
for him."
" That is exactly what I meant," said Maude, with a
" he
grateful smile at the rector ; ought to be looked
for, found, and rescued/'
" More easily said than done, young lady," remarked
" His
Mr. Rawlings. captors have the advantage of
several days' start, and they are desperate men, whc
would stop nothing to carry out their objects. I
at
can assure you, Miss O'Brien, that I quite sympathize

with you in your kindly feeling in behalf of a brave
DANIEL BOONE. 99
man, and so far as any influence or power I have can

effect anything, will gladly aid in discovering what has
been done with him, and restore him to his family if
possible."
" " If
.
Thank you, sir," cried Maude, eagerly. only
"
ill our rulers were like you
" " "
Tut, tut, girl exclaimed the Squire.
! Don't let
us get on that subject again."

"
Well," said Harry, who had been very thoughtful
" I have made "
for a few moments. mind up my
"
Oh, Harry ! To do what? "
Maude, beaming cried
upon him, with smiles and expectation struggling in her

countenance.
" I am
going to hunt for Daniel Boone, and rescue
him if I can find him."
" "
Bravo, Harry ! and she clapped her hands, and
appeared delighted with the determination of her
cousin.
" I shall call for
volunteers," said the young man.
" So whoever is
ready to join me must be prepared,
for I shall set out immediately."
" Thomas Hardeman,
Well, Calvert," said in his lazy
"
way, you don't get more volunteers than you want,
if
and I haven't an idea you will, you can count on me."

" am
I hardly equal to a search of this character,"
observed Mr. Rawlings, " but I hold to what I said to
Miss O'Brien, a moment ago. If you need any assist-
ance that I can properly give, I shall be glad to afford it."

" " Mr.
Harry, looking about him.
Really," said
Boone does not seem to be altogether without friends
100 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP
after all. I dare say I shall have quite a respectable
following."
There was a pause in the conversation at this mo-
ment, and Lady O'Brien took advantage of it to glance
at Madame Rawlings, whereupon the ladies arose and
left the table to repair to the drawing-room.

The gentlemen being left over their wine, the subject
was resumed and discussed by all present, none of
whom, however emphatic their opinions might be on
the general question of loyalty to the laws and the
King's officers, felt the slightest animosity toward the

victim of the present attack.
The Squire, to be sure, who was rather an easy-going
man, and seldom troubled himself about occurrences

that did not immediately concern him, did not particu-
larly interest himself in the matter, but listened pa-
tiently, and occasionally threwword by way of

in a
suggestion, as the plan of operations was discussed.

" I would like to take
Mike, sir," said Harry, address-
"
ing the Squire, you can spare him."
if
" He
Why, my boy, what do you want of him ? will
only get you into some scrape."

"
Well, you know, Mike is accustomed to me, and
we understand each other. He is muscular, which
is one reason I want him, and quick-witted, which is
another."
" And " he knows almost
besides," put in the rector,
everybody, and has a way of his own for obtaining in-
formation which I never saw equaled."

" "
Oh ! Well, well," said the Squire, if you want
DANIEL BOONE. IOI
him, and he don't object to going, you can take him,

I am sure."
" " The
Oh, he won't object to going," said Harry.
chance of a scrimmage,' as he will call it, will give the
'
affair charms for him, which will be quite sufficient to
make up for any hardships he may be called upon to

endure."
" "
Hardships ? said Hardeman.
Everybody laughed. The young man was rather
proud of his reputation as a gentleman of leisure, and

who had never undergone anything in the nature of
hardship.
" "
I don't want to under-
Well," explained Harry.
estimate the matter. We shall have some hard riding
for one thing."
"
Oh, I don't mind that ! said Hardeman.
"
No, I know you don't. You are one of the best
horsemen, and you have one of the best mounts in the

Colonies but then we shall have to do some covert
;
work, and generally dodge these fellows, when we find

who they are, and it may come to a fight at last."
"
Well, there is nothing in all that that appals
me."
" "
Also," continued Harry, we shall probably have
to camp out."
"
I like that. I do it every season for fun."
"
Well, that fills the catalogue, I think ;
at least for
what can be prepared for in advance. So you are ac-
cepted."
The gentlemen now rose from the table to join the
102 THE LTFE AND TIMES OF
ladies,and as they were passing through the door into

the main hall, Harry remarked to Mr. Rawlings :
"
I think, sir, that although they have the start of us,
there is a fair chance of our finding Boone, even now.'
He spoke in quite a loud tone of voice. At the
same moment a servant approached the Squire, and
with a gesture of his hand toward the hall, said :
" There's a
gemman wants to see you, massa Squire."
" Where is he ? " said
the Squire, looking about.
The negro turned from one side to another, appar-
ently surprised.
" He done stood there a moment ago, massa. 'Fore
God, I can't tell where he done gone to."
A deep voice said, slowly, " I am the gentleman who

was inquiring for Squire O'Brien."
Turning at the sound, the party who were leaving

the dining-room saw the surprising figure of Rafe
Slaughter.
The negro had sprung to one side, scared at the
sound of the voice coming from an unexpected quar-
ter, and now took his departure, muttering to himself
"
Golly ! I specs he Obi man, dat buckra."
There was a dead silence as all present gazed at the
strange figure of Judge Anderson's secretary. To this
species of reception Rafe was so accustomed that it did
not in the least embarrass him. As Squire O'Brien
had stepped forward, he addressed him :
" I have a note of introduction for from

you, sir,
Judge Anderson, of Granville."

" " "
Oh, indeed ! cried the Squire. My old friend,
DANIEL BOONE. 103
Dick Anderson. Any one armed with credentials from

him may be sure of a good reception in this house.
Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I will join you again

presently."
The others proceeded leisurely to the drawing-room,
while the Squire led Rafe to an apartment on the op-
posite side of the hall, which was his private sanctum,
office, and library, though as to the latter function it
presented but little in the way of resources.
As they entered, the Squire pointed to a chair, at

the same time receiving from the hand of Rafe the let-
ter from Judge Anderson. Bowing in apology as he

seated himself, he perused it carefully, and, on conclud-
ing, folded it and placed it in a drawer in the table be-
side him.
" Mr.
Slaughter, the Judge refers me to you as his
confidential secretary and personal friend and intimate
associate. I am glad to know you."
"
My commission from Judge Anderson to yourself,
sir, is simply to this effect That after reading the let-
:
ter you will have the kindness to transmit to him, in
writing,your acceptance or declination of the proposi-

tion which it contains, and as to the particulars of which
I understand you are already fully informed."
" That is
perfectly correct, sir," replied the Squire.
" I
shall take pleasure in doing as the Judge desires."
"
Now, sir," continued Rafe, " if you will excuse the
liberty, I am
going to ask you a question arising from
a remark which I chanced to overhear as
you and youi
friends were coming out from dinner."
IO4 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
"You could not well avoid overhearing whatever was
said," remarked the Squire, a little however;

surprised,
" and I am sure you are at liberty to make any com-
ment upon it, or ask any questions regarding it, which
you may desire. I know very well, that agentleman
endorsed by my friend Richard Anderson, would not
be likely to take any improper advantage of such lib-
'
erty."
Rafe bowed and proceeded " I heard a young gentle- :
man remark, There's a fair chance of our finding Boone,

'
'
even now ! If thatremark referred to Daniel Boone,
and, as I am led to suppose, anything untoward has
happened to him, not only is it a matter of grave inter-

est to me from my personal acquaintance with the man,
but it is still more so to the Judge, and may incident-
ally concern yourself hereafter in the event of your
accepting his proposition."

" "
By Jove said the Squire, at the
! same lime open-
ing the drawer in which he had placed Judge Ander-
son's letter, which he took hurriedly in his hands, and,
"
opening proceeded to read again carefully.
it, Yes,
the Judge alludes here to some one to whom he pur-
poses entrusting a mission," and he scanned closely

the face of the secretary as he spoke, " and I would not
be surprised if Daniel Boone were the man to whom
he refers."
"
Daniel Boone is precisely that man," said the other.
" God bless my soul, what an extraordinary coinci-
"
dence ! and
once the Squire proceeded to relate to
at
the listener the facts which have already been made

DANIEL BOONE. 105
known to the reader through the statement of Mr.
Rawlings.
Rafe was, indeed, not only an interested, but an ex-
cited listener. The serious importance of this unex-
pected interference with the plans of his employer was

at once plain to him, and consideration of it impressed
him gravely.
Perceiving how concerned his guest appeared to be,

the Squire relieved his mind by assuring him that
measures were already on foot for a search for the lost
hunter. On hearing this, nothing would do but the
Squire must at once present Rafe to Harry Calvert as

a new volunteer for the expedition.
They accordingly adjourned to the drawing-room,

where Rafe was introduced to the ladies, and on the
subject of Boone being mooted, soon showed that he
was a warm adherent of the cause of the unfortunate
hunter.
Rafe had, in fact, formed a profound regard for
Boone ; besides, his devotion to his employer's interest,

to which he knew the hunter to be essential, made him
specially anxious for his safety. He at once spoke in
the highest terms of Boone's character, and his enthu-

siasm soon fired the rest.
Maude was charmed with the eccentric little secre-
tary, and nothing would do for, any of them now but

the greatest possible speed and immediate action. Even
young Hardeman became aroused out of his customary

placidity and as earnest as the rest.
In less than an hour the details of the expedition had

5*
been arranged, horses ordered and brought around to
the piazza; saddle-bags hurriedly packed, rifles selected,
and ammunition stored away pistols placed in their ;
respective holsters, and the dinner dress of the young

men changed for a more appropriate costume.
" "
But where Mike ?
cried Harry as these prepara-
is
tionshad been nearly concluded.

There was a loud cry for Mike, and one negro after
another was sent in search of him. In a few moments
that personage stood on the piazza, before them, a thick-
set, middle-aged-looking Irishman, with an old greasy

cap held in one hand, while he pulled his forelock obse-
quiously with the other.
"
Mike, you are going with me," said Harry sharply.
" "
Iam, your honor !
"
Do you know where you are going? "
" Divil a bit "
!
" "
How long will it take you to get ready ?
" "
Shure, for what'll I be wanting?
"
Get on some stout your gun, have the
clothes, take
Baron saddled, bring a pair of pistols with you and a
knife, and be as quick as you can about it."
" Is
murdering we are going for?" said Mike.
it
"
Egad it may come to that. Now do as I bid you."
!
" "
But, your honor !
"What is it?"
" Will we "
be long gone ?
" I wish I " but I don't.
knew," said Harry, You
may do just the same as if
you knew we would be gone
*ix months."
DANIEL BOONE. I O;
Mike touched his forelock again, and saying, " Bader-

shin ! be ready in
I'll ten minutes," vanished, and in
about that time he appeared mounted on a raw-boned
and ungainly steed which he was accustomed to ride,
and which was called the Baron, as Harry said, because
he was barren of flesh ;
and as everything was now in
readiness, the gentlemen proceeded to make their adieux

and mount their several steeds.
Rafe's horse had been taken to the stable on his arri-
val, and fed, and was now brought out refreshed. The
secretary, however, requested, and obtained permission
to leave behind him
Squire O'Brien's care, certain
in
papers which he was unwilling to risk carrying with

him.
At the last moment Harry Calvert was missing, and
as the Squire looked about him he perceived with con-
siderable amusement that Maude was also not to be
seen.
" "
Where is Harry ? said Lady O'Brien.
"Where is Maude?"
cried the Squire.
" "
Nonsense," said she. You are always putting them
together."
"
Nonsense, my Lady. They are always going to-
gether," and the Squire laughed loud and long.

Ifthe reader could have been present just within the
door of the drawing-room, he or she would have wit-
nessed at this juncture a most interesting scene.
Harry was not ignorant of all the advantages which his
plucky conduct had given him in relation to his cousin

Maude, and as the time for setting forth had approach-
ed he had drawn her away from the rest of the party,

and the two were now engaged in a very affectionate
parting scene, which they had all to themselves.
Hearing his name called loudly, he released her from
the tender embrace in which he held the blushing girl,
and said :
" have your promise. No matter

Then, Maude, I
who says
'
no,' you will join your fortunes to mine as
"
soon as possible, after my return ?
"
"Yes, Harry, if and the girl looked archly at
"
him for a moment, you bring back Daniel Boone."
if
" I will do it if he is alive," said Harry, and with a

parting kiss he left her and hurried outside where the
others were becoming clamorous at the delay.
Throwing himself on his horse and assuming the

lead, the whole party waved their hands and galloped
down the drive, Mike bringing up the rear amid a
chorus of shouts from the negroes who had gathered to
witness their departure.
CHAPTER VII.
Harry Cahrert, being formally introduced to the Reader by way of his antece-
dents, leads his party to Hillsborough. Stephen Roberts sustains his repu-
tation for argumentative capacity, and Mike Dooley succeeds in treeing the
HARRY CALVERT was the son of a half-sister of Lady

O'Brien, who had married into the family of the Cal-
verts of Maryland, where Harry was born. The young
man was therefore of the best Colonial blood, but, un-
fortunately, his position as to means could hardly be

said to accord with it. It will thus also be seen that
the cousinship between Harry and Maude was one de-
gree removed.
The title of Lord Baltimore, which went with the
elder branch of the family, was at present held by Fred-
erick Calvert, who lived at the family home in Ireland,
and was rich, but childless. In the event of his dying

without heirs, Harry would naturally succeed to the
Irish property, but not to the title.
In the meantime, our young gentleman, though gen-

erally considered an eligible parti in a matrimonial
sense, so far as his personal character and habits were

involved, was not exactly so in the light of fortune.
His relativemight easily leave his property in some
other direction, and his hopes as to that could hardly
(109)
1 10 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
be considered thoroughly founded. There was, how-
ever, some reason for them, inasmuch as the young
man had paid a visit to Ireland, and to the head of the
family a few years before, and had been well received.

Occasionally, also, since that time, letters had passed
between them of rather more than a friendly sort.
To the Squire, who was fond of Harry, the latter ap-
peared entirely satisfactory as a prospective son-in-law,
but by Lady O'Brien, whose views concerning fortune
were totally opposite to those of her husband, he was
looked upon with a very ill-grace in that connection.
He was, however, frequently a visitor at Mount Mourne,
and, as we have seen, was always well received, passing
on occasion months in the society of his fair semi-
cousin. The rest of his time he spent in the vicinity
of Baltimore,where he had a small plantation, which
returned an income sufficiently large to support him,
though not extravagantly.

Thus much being said of one who is destined to ap-
pear as a principal character in this narrative, we return

to the cavalcade which left Squire O'Brien's hospitable
mansion and directed their steps toward Hillsborough.
Harry rode ahead with the secretary, in whom he had
become interested, as representing a different kind of
man from any with whom he had before been ac-
quainted, and whose character he felt inclined to study.

The two speedily entered into conversation and com-
pared notes with regard to their previous travels and
sojourneyings, much to the amusement and satisfaction
of each.
DANIEL BOONE. HI
Meanwhile, Thomas Hardeman rode a short distance

behind, occasionally joining in their conversation, and
at other times, pleasing himself with the sallies of dry
humor which he succeeded in extracting from Mike.

Ithad been arranged that their first halting should
be made at the house of a planter well known to Cal-
Hardeman, who lived about twenty miles from
vert and
Mount Mourne. Here they arrived at sundown, and
without stating the nature of their journey, received
an immediate welcome and offer of entertainment for
the night.
The party were up betimes on the following morning,
and rode hard all day, reaching the immediate vicinity
of Hillsborough late in the afternoon, and the town
itself as the shades of evening were closing in.
Here Hardeman was acquainted, and volunteered to

take the party to where they could be cared for during
the night. On the following day, while Mike, under
proper directions, remained behind at the little tavern

where they had passed the night, the three gentlemen
rode on some five or six miles to the south-west of the
town where resided one Levi Rodgers, who was a cousin
of Boone's wife. They easily found the place, and sue-
ceeded obtaining from the family the meager infor-
in
mation which had been conveyed by the lad Jimmy,

who had since been taken by a member of his family
to his own home on the Yadkin, at the same time con-
veying the news of the hunter's capture.

The story, as it had been related by Mr. Rawlings,
was found to be nearly exact. Boone had been captv
ured by a number of men, as many as ten, the lad
thought, with none of whom he was acquainted. The

captured hunter had been carried westward from where
he was taken, on the same road just passed over by
Calvert and his party. It was probable, however, that
he had been soon taken into the bush or in a different
direction by one of the cross-roads that intersected that
part ofOrange County.

There was nothing more to be learned here, and
after a few hours our travelers resumed their horses to
return to Hillsborough.
Here they found Mike waiting for them with quite a
batch of news. He had discovered acquaintances of
his own in the town, and as the riot was not yet a nine
days' wonder, had no difficulty in getting them to con-

verse freely with regard to itand not only this, but
;
by a little skillful investigation he had learned the

names of three of the men who were undoubtedly en-
gaged in the abduction of Daniel Boone.

These men were Stephen Roberts, the man whom
Howell had announced his determination to visit on
the morning when Boone left his house ;
William But-
ler and Harmon Cox, both of them well-known Regu-
lators. Roberts resided in town, but it was not certain
that he had been one of the party actually engaged in
the abduction, though it was believed that the affair
had been planned and directed by him. Butler and

Cox had been missing ever since the outrage.
To this man Roberts, Calvert determined to apply,
not imagining that he would obtain much infor-
DANIEL BOONE. H3
mation by so doing. Roberts, who has been described
in the opening pages of this work, had a well-authenti-
cated reputation for being a man of great cunning and
skill in masking whatever design he might have, or any
acts that he might perpetrate. Calvert found him at
his house, not far from McCandless' store, and the fol-
lowing brief colloquy took place between them :
" Mr. I am in town representing friends of

Roberts,
Daniel Boone, a farmer out in Yadkin, who has disap-
peared within the last week, and of whom no traces

can be found. I am you know the man, and
told that
may possibly be able to give me some information that

will relieve the minds of his family and friends concern-
ing him."
Roberts sat regarding the young man sharply while
he spoke. When he had concluded, he said :
"
I know Daniel Boone very well. I saw him here in
Hillsborough with Judge Anderson's party on the day

of the riot. He went off with Judge Anderson, as I
was afterward told, to visit him over in Granville. I
have not seen him since."

"
But, there is some talk, Mr. Roberts, of his having
been waylaid by a gang of men and kidnapped."
" I
know nothing about it nothing whatever."
;
"
I have heard, Mr. Roberts, the names of men men-
tioned in connection with this affair who are known to
be associates of yourself."
"
Young gentleman, I am a lawyer, a profession that
brings me into contact with a great many different
kinds of men."
"
Particularly criminals and the kind of men that
would be apt to perpetrate such an outrage," said
Harry.
"
Particularly just the kind of men you indicate," re-
"
turned Roberts. That, in fact, is one of the misfor-
tunes of my profession."
Here he smiled grimly.
" We can not always control our associates, or my
desire would be to have none but such as might, for in-
stance, be represented by young gentlemen of position

like yourself."
Harry bowed at this compliment, and began to feel

as though he was getting the worst of the argument.
He, however, persisted.

"
Of course, Mr. Roberts, as you are a lawyer, you
are much more accustomed to sophistry than an inex-
pert person like myself. I would like, however, in the

interests of those I represent, to ask you one or two
simple questions."
The other bowed his willingness to listen to the
questions.
" Do "
you know where Daniel Boone is now ?
" I
do not."
" me
Can you tell if he is alive and in possession of
"
his freedom ?
" I can tellyou nothing about him more than I have
told. My present knowledge concerning him ends with
his leaving Hillsborough to visit Judge Anderson."
" "
When have you seen Rednap Howell ? said Harry
suddenly.
DANIEL BOONE. 115
The other flushed a little at this home question, but

did not hesitate in his reply.
" He was
I have not seen him in a month. not here
on the day of the riot."
Harry felt as sure that this was a lie as he could feel
of anything, but he had no means of proving it, and as

he saw that there was very little to be gained from Mr.
Roberts, he terminated the interview by rising, and
stating that hehad no further questions to ask.
The other accompanied him courteously to the door,
and expressed the hope that he would meet with better
success in his investigations in the future than had
characterized them apparently hitherto.
Harry thanked him with rather a mocking look and

returned to his companions quite discomfited with his
ill-success.
Mike was absent in pursuit of knowledge, and the
three, after a hasty conference, concluded that what-

ever result they might obtain in the way of finding the
lost hunter, must be the work of their own brains and
energies.
Without any positive plan in their minds, they made
haste to leave the town, and were nearly ready for their
departure, when Mike appeared, lugging after him by

the arm a red-haired, freckle- faced, overgrown boy
about seventeen, who appeared very unwilling to go
with him. As they approached, Mike put his hand to
his mouth and cried out to Harry in what he meant for
a whisper :
" Whist "

!
your honor ! Is there anybody near ?
1 1 6 THE LITE AXD TIMES OF
"
Not a soul," said Harry, looking round him.
"Then, begorra! I've found out something!"

"What is it, Mike?"
" Ax this rum-looking thafe of the wurruld."
" What have you
Well, what is it, my lad ?
got to
tell us?"
"
Nawthin', sor."
At this, Mike administered a sound box on the ear
of the boy, at which he set up a howl.
" Tell the
Shtop yer yelpin', ye young shpalpeen.
young gentleman what you told me, or I'll whale the
"
life out of yez !
" Tell us and no harm

what you know, my lad, shall
come to you. On the contrary, you shall have half a

crown for your trouble."
This proposition appeared to strike the uncouth

young person favorably ;
at least, it acted as a damper
on his unearthly whine, which he was still inclined to
continue. After a moment's silence and apparent con-

sideration, he said :
" make me
So bein', if yer'll this here Irishman leave
be, I'll tell yer, an' you won't peach on me."
" him
Mike, let alone," cried Harry.
Mike, with an air of injured innocence, released his
hold of the boy, who, to his evident disappointment, did
not attempt to run away.
" You he " I
wos away up the
see, Mister," said,
road the day this man Boone started home. I knowed

him from seein' him an' his little boy down yer the day
they wos fightin', an' I seed Butler and Harman Cox,
DANIEL BOONE. 117
an* a lot o' others a waitin' in the road, so I hid in the
bush ontil he come along, an' then I seed them pull

him off'n his horse, an' they wos fightin' together and
scrimmagin' around on the ground, till Boone, he got
licked, and the others tied him up and put him on his
"
horse and took him off
Here he stopped.
" "
Tell the rest, yer varmint !
" "
Be silent, Mike," said Harry sternly. Go on, my
lad, you are earning your half-crown."
"
Well, Mister, I follered 'em for mor'n a mile. Fust
they turned off the road just beyant the bridge over
Piny Creek, an* then they took him about half a mile
into the woods, an' there there's a kind of hole in the
rock as big as a room, and they put him in there, an'

three of 'em stayed to watch outside while the rest
rode off as fast as they could an' give you my word
that's all I knows about it give me my half-crown."
Harry laughed, and gave him a half-crown, as he had
promised, to which both Hardeman and Rafe Slaughter
each added another, whereupon the boy pocketed the
three coins, and with a kick up of his foot by way of
courtesy to the gentlemen, and a sneer at Mike,

dashed down the road into the village, and was lost
to sight.
" The " "
red-headed divil ! said Mike, as he fled. He
knows more'n that or my name isn't Mike Dooley."
" "
Well," said Rafe, if he knows that, and has told
the truth, it's enough for our purpose. Now let us set
out,"
1 1 8 LIFE AND TIMES OF DANIEL BOONS.
To this suggestion the other members of the party

offered no objection, and in five minutes they were
on their horses cantering at a sharp speed up the hill
in the direction from which they had come the day

previous.
CHAPTER VIII.
vVhereln the Reader becomes the witness to an exciting engagement, and the
story progresses a material step forward.
THE summer was harvested, the au-

passed, the grain
tumn leaves began to color and to fall, and still nothing
was heard of the fate of Daniel Boone, either at his
home on the Yadkin, or by the solicitous family at
Mount Mourne.
Word had been
brought occasionally to Squire
O'Brien of the party who had set forth so enthusias-
but this amounted to nothing more
tically for his rescue,
than that success had not met their endeavors, and that
they were still prosecuting the search.
Even such slight information had now failed during
many weeks, and much anxiety was felt at Mount
Mourne, where were still gathered the guests whom
we have already mentioned as visiting there in the
spring.
It was the close of a dreary day late in December ;
a heavy rain-storm, lasting for several days, had over

run the small streams in western North Carolina, ant
the valleys were in some instances flooded. Dull,
leaden-hued clouds rested low down on the hill-tops ;
the trees drained water from every twig such roads as ;
there were had now become nearly impassable.

On the side of a hill, some fifty rods above a small
water -course, now swollen and turbulent from the
storm, stood a small log hut, from the openings in
which, that answered for windows, could be seen the
only light to be discerned for miles around. The place
was secluded, on a road seldom traveled, and lonely.
In the first of the two rooms into which this rude
dwelling was divided, a large fire blazed on the hearth-
stone, and afforded all the light there was, but that in
quite sufficient quantity for the necessities of the three

occupants of the apartment.
Of these three, two have not been before presented
to the reader. One was a short, heavily-built and mus-
cular-looking man of middle age, whose features were
repulsive, and whose thick dark hair was matted over

his forehead, while a heavy beard, untrimmed, made his
face still more unpleasing. His companion was younger,

and beardless, but with a form that displayed the ma-
terial for considerable strength and nervous activity.
Both were clad in homespun, and the elder man ex-
hibited in the belt around his waist a heavy horse-pis-
tol. Against the side of the room near them rested
two rifles.
These two men were lying on the hearth in front of

the fire the elder one smoking, the other not occupied
;
in any way.
Ten feet away from them, in the shadow, there lay
on a pile of straw the figure of a tallman, apparently
sleeping. His head was resting upon one arm and his
eyes were clost-cl.
DANIEL BOONE. 121
A blast wind of unusual violence suddenly burst

of
open the door of the dwelling, startling the two men

on the hearth, who sprang to their feet, while the
rain poured in through the opening in torrents.
" Curse the wind "
! said the stout man, as he hur-
ried to the door and closed it.
" No need for you to move," he continued, as, turn-

ing at a sound in the corner, he observed that the man
lying there had risen to a sitting posture, and was gaz-

ing at him.
The man was Daniel Boone ; but so altered in his
appearance, so cadaverous in his features, and worn

and depressed in his expression, that he could hardly
have been recognized. .
In his present posture, it could be seen that he was

chained to one of the logs which formed the side of the
cabin, the chain being fastened to a strong leathern belt
which encircled his waist.
His arms were free, as also his lower limbs. Around

his neck was tied, by the sleeves, a heavy homespun
coat. Otherwise, he was dressed in his usual buckskin
hunting -shirt and leggings. On his feet were moc-
casins.
"
I only looked," he said, in answer to the speech of
the other.
" "
Well, don't look !
growled the
having latter, as
turned in the massive lock the cumbrous key and be-
stowed the latter in his pocket, he returned to his place
by the hearth.
Boone laid down again and was quiet.
For a few minutes there was silence, except that from
the apartment in the rear could be heard the sound ot
snoring, and that apparently of several persons. This

noise was indeed so audible in the stillness, that presently
the younger man of the two by the fire growled out :
"
Confound those fellows Why can't they !
sleep
"
quietly There's
! no need to make such a row !
"
They're lucky to be 'able to sleep at all," said his
" I have had so much of this sort of
companion. thing
that I can't sleep when I try to."
" You've had no more of it than I have," muttered
the other.
"
Yes, but you've had a lay-off of two weeks, while
I've been here ever since the last week in March, and
now we are close on to Christmas."
" That's so but me
; my outing did very little good.
It takes so infernally long to get anywhere from this
out-of-the-way place. was only four days in Hillsbor-

I
ough, and two of them were taken up by Roberts with

his blasted directions and injunctions."
"
How much longer do you suppose we are going to
"
have to keep up this watch ? said the stout man, ris-
ing up on his elbows.

" know as much about as I do. I asked
Well, you it
Butler when he came this afternoon, but he was dead

tired,and wouldn't give me any satisfaction, if he knew
anything, which I doubt."
" "
How many came in with him ? said the other,
"
after a moment's silence. I was out, you know, when
they got here."
DANIEL BOONE. 123
" There were six in all. Butler and Cox, Invvood*
Charley Cleeves, and two others I don't know."

" "
What do you suppose
they come for ?
"
Well, Butler said something about taking him
away/' and he jerked his thumb toward the corner
where Boone was now, to judge from his heavy breath-
"
I suspect that they've
ing,apparently sleeping quietly.
got orders to take him down to the coast and ship him
somewhere."
If there had been any one present remarking Boone
at this moment, he would have had a suspicion as to
the depth of his somnolency. There was perceptible
a slight movement of the eyelids, while one of his hands
clenched with a quick muscular movement.
" I " I've
hope to God they will," said the stout man.
had all the watching of him I want."
"
Well, he don't give much trouble," observed the
other.
"
Nohe don't get much chance. But, I tell you, if
;
he wasn't watched close, he would get outside of this

here cabin quicker'n lightning."
To remark the other made no response, but
this
changed his position for an easier one, and was appar

ently making preparations for repose.
His companion, observing this, presently rose to his

feet, and going to a rude table near the door, helped
himself to a portion of the contents of a jug which had

been placed there, using for the purpose a small pipkin
which stood beside it.
Swallowing the strong liquor which he had poured

124 TH& LIFE AND TIMES OF
out at a draught, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve,
and then crossed the room to where Boone was lying.
He stood still for perhaps the space of a minute
watching him. Not a quiver in the hunter's counte-
nance betokened wakefulness. Apparently satisfied, the
man returned to his position by the fire, and having
thrown a fresh log on it, proceeded to bestow himself
comfortably. In a few moments both he and his com-
panion were sound asleep.
Excepting the heavy breathing of the sleepers in
both rooms, there was nothing now to be heard to dis-
tract the attention of any one listening from the vio-
lence of the storm without.
This had become gradually more severe, and it seemed
that there was now blowing a tornado while the furious
;
dash of the rain in heavy sheets of water against the

sides and upon the roof of the cabin, produced a con-
fusion of noise.
For several minutes the hunter continued to lie
quietly. Then he suddenly lifted his head so that

his face was turned toward the side of the cabin near-
est him. A moment after he raised himself cautiously
on one elbow, and appeared in the act of listening.
To with the hope of hearing anything except

listen
the raging of the tempest would seem to be futile, yet

to the long-accustomed, though of late unpracticed ear
of the hunter, there seemed to be something stirring
outside the cabin which was not the wind nor the rain.
The heavy limbs of the trees in the forest about
creaked and groaned, but it was not that. Occasion-
DANIEL BOONS. 1 2
ally a boulder or fragment of rock, dislodged from its

fastness at the summit of the hill, dashed heavily
through the woods with a fierce crash, and rolled down

into the valley below but it was not that. \
Close to his listening ear could be heard a grating

sound, and so acute was the hearing of the hunter, that
in a moment he had discovered nearly the exact point
whence the sound appeared to emanate.
The cabin being built in an exposed position, had
been carefully constructed for protection from the ele-
ments. The seams between the logs had been caulked
with clay, which had hardened like stone. The roof
was double, similarly protected, and the whole struct-
ure was impervious to water.

The sound which had aroused Boone from his pre-
tended sleep grew perceptibly louder, although it could

not have been heard by any ordinary ear at a distance
of three feet.
The deduction was inevitable ;

the cause was coming
nearer.
In another moment, by the brilliant light of the
newly -replenished fire, the quick eye of the hunter
perceived a portion of the hardened clay between the

logs next to him apparently cracking.
He made no movement, but watched.
Then the crack opened wider, and the point of a
steel instrument could be seen evidently being pushed
toward him, though it was speedily withdrawn.
The scene was becoming an interesting one. The

hunter had gradually turned over on his knees, and
was now resting on his two hands, his head extended,
and his glistening eyes fixed on the crack opened be-
tween the logs.
It was certain to his mind that this must be the work
of friends, and that something more was to follow.
Something did follow.

A twisted piece of paper was thrust through the
opening. Looking quickly toward his sleeping guards,

Boone seized it and opened it eagerly.
The hunter, though illy educated, and to a consid-
erable degree illiterate, could read plain writing, which
fortunately happened to be the nature of the present

missive.
Its contents were as follows :
" Do
Use this as speedily as possible and wait events.
what you can to help us. It may be your last chance.
" FRIENDS."
Even as he completed reading this brief note, which

he at once bestowed about his person, something else
was passed through the crack.

Still watching the two men by the fire, Boone grasped
it with one hand and pulled it through. It proved to
be a strong file.
The storm, so far from lessening, seemed to increase

and the noise was deafening. Under its
in violence,
cover Boone began at once to file the link of his chain

which attached it to the belt.
The tool was perfectly adapted for the quickest work
DANIEL BOONE. 127
of this nature, and a very few minutes made an impres-

sion on the iron. In fact, in less than a quarter of an
hour the hunter had filed through the link and was
freed from the chain.
Properly supposing that his movements were watched

from without, through the crack, he now passed the file
through, thus signifying that his part of the work was
completed. The instrument was seized on the other
side and drawn without.
Just at this moment a movement on the part of the
elder of the two guards, made Boone drop quickly into
his previous position, and appear to be still deep in
sleep. The one who moved turned restlessly about
for an instant and then rose to a sitting posture and
looked steadily toward the prostrate form of the hunt-
er. He appeared satisfied, and with a glance at his
companion to see that he was sleeping, he returned to
his former position.
The windows in the cabin, to which we have alluded,

were square openings about eighteen inches in diam-
eter each way, two in number, and placed immediately
under the projecting eaves, where they were completely
protected from any possibility of rain coming into the
room. One of these openings was closed by a shutter,
the other was open.
Boone's attention was presently directed toward the
open window by a slight scratching sound, which seemed

to come from that direction.
His two guards were now evidently fast asleep, and
he had no hesitation in raising himself to a posture
which would facilitate instant movement on his part if
it should become necessary.
Already he was engaged in forming his own plan of

operations, which must, however, of course, depend ma-
terially on the course pursued by his friends without.
The nature of the first step on their part was now

made obvious. The head of a man appeared at the
opening, and a quick glance was thrown by him about
the room to gain a correct idea of the situation. The
head was, of course, in the shadow, and Boone could
not discern the features.
Now a hand appeared through the opening and beck-
oned Boone to approach. Satisfied that it was safe for
him to move, he arose to his feet and crossed the room,
noiselessly, until he stood beneath the window. Then
a voice said :
" "
Can you open the door ?
Boone shook his head and pointed to the stout man
by the fire who had the key in his pocket.
But at this juncture the latter moved, and before
Boone could return to his place, he had opened his
eyes and saw the situation. But even as he gathered

his muscles together to spring to his feet the hunter,
quicker than the thought which impelled him, threw

him and clutched him by the throat.
himself upon
There was a momentary struggle silent, though
deadly. Then the stout man's head fell back on his

shoulders, his face became purple, and he lay insensible
on the floor.
To turn him on his side and snatch the key from his
DANIEL BOONE. 129
pocket was the work of an instant. Another brought

the hunter to the door and the key in the lock. It was
turned quickly. The bolt shot but before Boone could

lift the latch which still held the door, the younger
man, startled by the noise of the key, had awakened

and was on his feet.
Quick as lightning, he seized his rifle and brought it
to his shoulder. The hunter saw there was no time to
open the door, and sprang to one side as the piece
exploded.
In another moment he had thrown himself upon the
man and dashed him to the floor. Before he could
recover himself, Boone snatched the remaining rifle
from its place against the wall and not a moment too
soon aroused by the explosion, amid a confusion
for,
of shouts and noise, the whole body of men in the
back room poured through the door but stood for a

single instant aghast as they saw the figure of the now
thoroughly aroused hunter standing with the rifle in

his hand.
The pause was momentary, however, for the first one

drew his pistol from his belt and fired. There was no
time for aim, and the bullet went wide of the mark.
At that instant the door was burst open, and Harry
Calvert and Hardeman, both armed with rifles, sprang
over the threshold ;

behind them could be seen the
figure ofRafe Slaughter, swinging in his right hand a
long-handled axe, which he had taken from the wood-
pile outside ;
while Mike Dooley brought up the rear
armed with a horse-pistol.
The other party had returned to the room where
they had been sleeping and got their rifles, and one of
them, a powerful man, was in the act of covering Harry
Calvert, when a shot from Boone's rifle brought him to
the floor.
The others fired now in quick succession, and Harde-
man had time only to deliver his shot when he fell to
the floor slightly wounded.
The young man who had been thrown by Boone had
recovered his feet and taken one of the pistols from
the belt of his companion, and the disabling of one of
their number left Calvert's party, with Boone, to en-
counter seven men well armed and determined.
The situationwould have seemed hopeless, but at
this juncture Rafe Slaughter, thrusting the others aside,
dashed into the midst of the opposing party with his
axe, striking wildly to right and left, his long arms
and powerful muscles enabling him to wield the terrible
weapon with the strength of a giant.

First one fell and then another, while Harry and
Mike emptied their pieces into two more.
The struggle was now more equal.
The cabin was so filled with smoke that one could
hardly separate friend from enemy but Boone, rushing
;
to the assistance of Rafe, with his rifle clubbed, dealt

blows hither and thither, and as the others followed
his example, in a few moments the entire party of
Boone's captors were fairs de combat.
An examination of the field after the victors had
taken breath, showed Thomas Hardeman wounded by a
DANIEL BOONE. 131
which had ploughed through his scalp and stunned

ball
him and on the other side, two shot dead, one with
;
a bullet through his lungs, and evidently hopelessly

wounded ;
and the one whom Boone had first attacked
and strangled also dead. The remaining four, two of
whom were insensible, had been badly beaten about
the head and face with Rafe's axe and the clubbed
rifles.
A hunt was at once made for ropes, and those who

were injured were securely tied.
Next a hurried consultation was held, and it was

determined to wait daybreak, and then set forth
till
toward Squire O'Brien's, which lay about a hundred

miles, as near as they could guess, to the north-east of
where they then were.
Leaving Mike to watch, the others lay down by the
fire to take needed rest after their arduous efforts and
the excitement of the fight.
Very few words of explanation passed between them,

and all except the hunter were soon wrapped in deep
slumber.
He, quite unable to sleep, and not needing repose,

reclined, thinking over the occurrences of the night,
and taking upon himself the attitude of watcher, for
Mike's eyes soon grew heavy, and his usefulness in that
capacity became more apparent than real.
The hours that passed before daybreak, witnessed a

lull in the storm, and when the hunter aroused his com-
panions, the weather was beginning to clear, though it
still rained. It took but little time to make all prepa-

rations for the start, the horses of Calvert's party being

found where they had been tied to trees under the lee
of a projecting rock a short distance from the cabin.
All mounted, Boone riding double with the Irishman,
who had the strongest and heaviest steed. Nothing
could be found of the horses belonging to their recent
antagonists, and there was not time for an extended

search.
The party then set forth on their journey.

CHAPTER IX.
Christmas Eve and a Christmas present. With some reflections on the phi-
losophy of the tender passion, and illustrations from the characters of this
story. Concluding with a catastrophe, and the downfall of "great expec-
tations."
THE Christmas holidays opened gloomily at Mount

Mourne. This day, so important as a festival among
our ancestors, equally in the Colonies with the old
country, promised in the present instance, and among

those in whom our interest now lies, to be but little
like its predecessors.
At Mount Mourne it had always been customary to

sustain the festivities at this season with great liberality
and The negroes looked forward to it

hospitality. al-
most from one year to another. Gifts were made in all
directions, the great house was illuminated, the farm

hands were treated to a banquet, at which venison,
buffalo meat, and wild turkeys were served without
limit, while home-brewed ale, after the old country

fashion, was distributed with equal freedom.
Of course, n^ne of the ordinary details of hospitality
could be neglected no matter with what heavy hearts
;
the hosts might set about it, and heavy indeed their
hearts were. The two young men, from whom nothing
had been heard for many weeks, were favorites wher
(133)
ever they were known, and their loss was specially felt
in the mansion at this season.
Excepting the banquet and the distribution of gifts,

to which we have alluded, it was determined that no
festivities should be held, and, contrary to custom,
no guests had been invited save those already known
to us.
Maude had occupied her time, with such assistance
as she could obtain from Mile. Raimonde, aided by the
negro girls attached to the household, in decking the
principal apartments with evergreens, and in this em-

ployment she found a simple but agreeable distraction
from her dreary thoughts.
To her, Harry's prolonged absence, without explana-
tion, was especially painful.
She was forced to be divided between two opinions,
either of which was sufficiently unpleasant One, that :
he had met with some accident or disaster which pre-

vented him from communicating with her the other, ;
that she had passed out of his mind to that degree that
he did not care to afford her any information as to his
whereabouts.
It is a peculiarity of a certain quality of the human
mind in such circumstances, to attribute the worst and
the most unlikely motive.
To one who loves, therewould seem to be a painful
pleasure in doubting the absent loved one. This is one
of those psychological disturbances that are not easily
accounted for by the ordinary regulations which gov-

ern mental impressions. An explanation may possi-
DANIEL BO ONE. 135
bly be found in the fact that in the exalted condition

occasioned by the passion of love, every temperamental
peculiarity becomes sublimated ;

not even that of sus-
picion being exempt from the change. Meanwhile, the

test of experience goes to show that the abnormal in-
crease, or elevation of a dominant passion, is always to
be viewed with doubt, since it generally exaggerates.
Poor Maude, however, did not analyze either her
sentiments or their motives, and was greatly inclined to
view the silence of her lover as an evidence of laxity on
his part, to say the least, and to consider his shortcom-
ing with a not unnatural severity in consequence.

The day of Christmas Eve had arrived, and all prep-
arations for the holiday were completed. It was late
in the afternoon, and a dull drizzling rain not only

made the day itself specially disagreeable, but fore-
boded as unpleasant a condition for the one to follow.
Maude was tired, and her mind distracted. In this
state her thoughts naturally returned to the subject
which had so much occupied them, but which during

the time of her labors had been laid aside.
Feeling unequal to conversation, she left the others

of the family party, and proceeded to the piazza, in
front of the house, almost mechanically, and standing
just without the door was gazing down the driveway

to the road and to the bridge where we first introduced
her.
Her mind returned to that occasion, and she reflect-

ed upon the happiness which she had felt during her
prolonged excursion with her then undeclared lover,
1
among the entrancing scenes of nature through which

their horses' feet had led them.
While thus engaged in reflection, which, under the
changed aspect of the scene, could not but be dreary
and uncomfortable, her eyes caught sight of moving
objects in the distance beyond the bridge.
She soon saw that it was a mounted party of sev-
eral persons, and her first thought was that some unin-
vited guests had taken advantage of the recognized
hospitality of the Squire, and had come to pay them a
Christmas visit unasked.
Disturbed by this conviction, she was about entering
the house to withdraw herself from immediate contact
with the new-comers, when something in the appearance
of the approaching travelers made her pause.
A moment later, and her heart seemed to rise in her
throat, while her cheeks flushed and her brows throbbed
as, despite his changed appearance, she recognized in

the leader of the approaching party, the form of Harry
Calvert.
The stood with her hands clasped before her, gaz-
girl
ing through the rain, with her whole soul impressed,

and her heart bounding under the influence of the sud-
den and unexpected reaction.
One by one the figures became distinct before her
Thomas Hardeman, the secretary, and last of all the
heavy black horse with Mike in front and the tall figure
of one unknown to her riding behind him.
The revulsion of feeling in Maude was complete ;
and without stopping to reflect upon the storm, she

DANIEL BOONE. 137
hurriedly flew down the steps of the piazza, and
straight along the drive to meet them.

Harry had espied her, and as she approached, sprang
from his horse, which he left to find its own way whith-
er might choose, while he met the girl and clasped
it
her in his arms without hesitation, as though she indeed
already belonged to him.

The others came quickly up, and Maude, to recover
herself from her confusion, as she extricated herself from
Harry's embrace, went from one to another, and clasped

their hands, while she warmly welcomed and congratu-
lated them on their safe return.
Mike was as cordially received as any of them, but

she hesitated as she looked up into the sallow face of
the stranger.
"
You should welcome him, Maude," said Harry, " for
this is Daniel Boone, the innocent cause of all our trou-
bles, and of my long and deeply regretted absence."

Maude hesitated no longer, but held up her little
hand, which was bashfully seized by the pioneer.
The face of the man inspired confidence and awaken-
ed friendship, and with a few gentle words which implied
recognition of his hardships and appreciation of his

good qualities at once, Maude fled back to the house,
for the first time perceiving that she was drenched with
rain and not altogether presentable to the seniors of
the family, who were pretty certain to presently make
their appearance.
In fact, before she could reach the piazza, they were

all there.
The wanderers had been seen by some of the negroes
about the place, and word had been carried instantly to
the heads of the family.
Maude did not escape a severe glance from Lady
O'Brien, as she flew up the steps, panting, and hasten-
ed to her apartment to change her dress but this dis- ;
turbed her little, and a moment later all were engaged

in welcoming the unexpected arrivals.
These certainly presented a motley appearance.
With clothing torn and weather-stained, with faces
bronzed by exposure to the elements, and unshaven for
many months, with their hair unkempt and uncared for
and straggling over their shoulders, their looks dis-
played clearly the nature of the hardships they had en-
dured.
Gladly alighting from their tired steeds, long unused

to a hearty meal of their customary food, and to the care
always bestowed upon them, our friends were ushered

within the dwelling, whose Christmas decorations now
seemed to have gained a new freshness and even a new
meaning under the changed aspect of affairs.
As they stood in thethey perceived that in
hall,
their present state they would be out of place in the
drawing-room ;
and Harry, turning to the Squire, said :
" let me present to you Daniel Boone, to ac-

Uncle,
complish whose rescue this expedition was undertaken,
and whose presence among us attests our success. I
wish to say, that since we have known him our gratifi-
cation has increased that we attempted and effected
his escape. He is worthy of all our trouble and more."
DANIEL BOONE. 139
While this little speech was being made with such

emphasis as showed the speaker meant every word of
it, Boone stood with his hands by his side and his eyes
dropped, waiting anxiously for it to be concluded.

When Harry had finished, Squire O'Brien extended
his hand, and with the dignified manner which he could
easily assume, and which sat well upon him, offered
his congratulations and welcomed the hunter to his

house.
"
Make your stay with us as long as you can, Mr.
Boone. We shall be sorry to have you go."
" I
thank you, sir, very heartily, for your kind recep-
tion. It adds a debt to the one I owe these gentlemen
who have done so much for me, and I shall never die
happy have paid off some of it."
till I
Lady O'Brien joined her husband in a kind and
graceful welcome to the hunter, who was then intro-

duced to Dr. Bullock, Mr. and Mme. Rawlings and
Mile. Raimonde.
Boone was a little distracted by meeting so many of
the gentry at once, but, on the whole, kept his custom-
ary equanimity pretty well.

Mike, in the meantime, had been seized by the other
servants and hurried around to their quarters, where
we may well leave him to their kindly attentions, while
he sets forth in his own glowing vernacular to a crowd
of open-mouthed and excited listeners the story of their
perils and their success.

The first greetings being over, Harry, Thomas Harde
man, and Rafe retired to the apartments assigned them
I 4o THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
to make so much of a toilet as was practicable under
the circumstances.
The Squire, himself, conducted Boone to a room,
where he left him, to go and search among his own
clothing for something that would temporarily answer
his necessities.
Harry had not been half satisfied with the hasty em-
brace which he had obtained from the girl he loved,
and as he sought his room looked in all directions for
her that he might perchance renew it.
In this he was, as is not uncommonly the case in

such instances, assisted by the maiden herself. She
had changed her attire with unequaled alacrity, hoping
for just such an opportunity, and as her lover wended
his way through the long upper hall with as much noise
AS he could accomplish, the door of her room opened
and she made her appearance.
Her hair was still wet with the rain and her cheeks
flushed with her recollections. Her eyes glistened,
and all her appearance showed to Harry that there
was no change in her, unless, if
possible, to his ad-
vantage.
Seizing her by both hands, he impressed a kiss upon
her willing lips, and for a moment neither of them
spoke.
Of course, Harry'sspeech was that idiotic one
first
which has probably formed the preliminary of similar

conversations from the time of Adam and Eve down.
"Did you
miss me, darling?" observed the youth,
with such perfect innocence in his countenance aa
DANIEL BOONS. I 4I
would deceive the elect into the supposition that he
was doubt as to
in her reply.
While a woman always expects and desires this ques-
" Maude
tion, she is always tempted to say No." re-
sisted the temptation, and supplied in its stead the
stereotyped answer :
" You know I did " !
As there was really no doubt in Harry's mind that

he did know it, he did not seek to pursue the argument
further except after the customary silent, but eloquent
fashion.
Maude's face disappeared on his shoulder, and would

have probably remained there for some considerable
while, but at that moment voices were heard.
The girl escaped and fled to her room, while Harry
walked unconcernedly whistling down the hall.
Half an hour found the entire party congregated in
the drawing-room, where the story of the pursuit of

Boone's captors and his rescue at the log-cabin on the
hill-side was told graphically, each of the rescuers tak-
ing his share in the narration.

That our readers may be as well informed as the
auditors on this occasion, what has not been already
here written may be recounted briefly, as follows.
The cave which had been described by Mike's pr^~
tJg/,had been readily found, but when found was un-

occupied. The tracks, however, were fresh, and being
closely followedby Harry and his associates, Boone's
abductors had been traced some twenty miles, when
the clew had failed.
From this point, the history of the expedition was
one of slow progress, under every possible disadvantage
of inexperience on the one side, pitted against a thorough
knowledge of woodcraft on the other.

The party had camped out, living upon what they
could shoot, during nearly the whole of the summer and
early fall, only relieved from this kind of life by occa-
sionally finding an outlying farm or frontier settlement.

From one or another of these localities they occa-
sionally gained a little information which assisted them

in their search, but the final success resulted from their
having come upon the trail of the party which had

reached the log hut on the afternoon before the capture.
Following these men at a safe distance Boone's

friends had tracked them to the house itself, and had
hovered about the place until darkness had made a
movement practicable.
This was briefly the story told at Mount Mourne,
interrupted constantly by questions and observations

from the interested listeners.
When the narrative was concluded, the Squire re-
quested the presence of his nephew, with Boone and

the secretary, in his library, whither they accordingly
proceeded, and being seated, Rafe Slaughter remarked

that the time had now come for him to explain the
nature of Judge Anderson's designs, in which Boone
was to become important as an instrument in conduct-
ing them to a successful conclusion.
Observing, that what he was about to say was set
forth in papers in his charge, and which could be pro-
DANIEL BOONE. 143
duced if necessary, to substantiate it, he proceeded in
the following language :
" The matter in

question is, as you will at once per-
ceive, of grave importance, and it is perhaps unneces-
sary for me to say that my communication is to be kept

in strict confidence."
The others bowed, and Rafe continued :
"
My patron, Judge Anderson, having been thorough-
ly informed by his correspondents in England concern-
ing the prospects for emigration to the Colonies, has
devised a scheme for the purchase of enormous tracts
of land beyond our present frontier.
"
Having associated with him a number of gentlemen,
like himself the possessors of large means, he designs
to organize a country and a government but with'no ;
intent to defraud the natives, and especially desiring to

avoid any bitterness of feeling on the part of tribes at
present at peace with the Colonists, he purposes calling

the chiefs together at some point and time to be here-
after designated, and to establish with them a treaty,
and obtain by amicable and honest means the land
which he desires.
"
Unacquainted as he is with the nature of the coun-
try, it is essential that some well-qualified person should,

in the first instance, proceed in that direction and ob
tain the requisite knowledge regarding it.
" For this purpose, he has selected our friend
Boone, who, at a meeting with the Judge last March,

consented to act in the capacity of pioneer, but
without being fully informed ns to the direction in
which he was to go, or the nature of the objects he
was to subserve.
" I am authorized to make all the necessary arrange-
ments for forwarding the enterprise at the earliest prac-
ticable moment ;
and have among the papers in my
possession general directions as to the route to be fol-
lowed, so far as it is possible to lay it down in the
beginning.
" At the point where our knowledge of the country
ends, the most material part of Boone's task commences ;
and after that he is tp be left untrammeled to his own

resources.
"
According to the arrangement which I have already
related, Boone is to gather a party of five or six ener-
geticand experienced frontiersmen to accompany him,

but these are not to be made acquainted with Judge
Anderson's designs.
"
My letter to you, sir," he continued, addressing him-
"
self to Squire O'Brien, gave you, I believe, an oppor-
tunity to become interested in this enterprise. I should
be glad to know your conclusion with regard to it."

The Squire rose, and walked the length of the room
two or three times, musing, before he replied. Then
he said :
" been set forth

So far as my friend's plan has ar.d
what I hear now is about what he wrote me I am in
entire accord with it.
"
have given it much thought this summer, and have
I
pretty well concluded to join the Judge and his friends

in the investment. There are some details, however,
DANIEL BOONE. 145
as to which I desire to be informed, and I shall with,
hold my final conclusion for the present ; remarking,

however, in a general way, that, so far as I can see, it
will be favorable."
" The understand said Harry, "
idea, as I it," is to
buy up this large tract of land, and invite immigrants

to go there and make settlements, giving them certain
advantages as to cost, etc."

" "
Yes. That is it," said Rafe. But there is more.
I don't like to say that the scheme is exactly political,
but I may observe that the Judge expects to form
an orgaftization which will, in some degree, have a
political existence. You will understand that this is a
rather ticldish subject to dwell upon, and the simplest
way in which
can put it is, that the design includes
I
the formation of a nationality, even the name of which

"
has been concluded upon
" "
And that is ? said Harry.
"
Transylvania."
" The Kingdom of Transylvania," observed Harry,
thoughtfully.
"Ah!" said Rafe. "You have added to it. 3 did
not say kingdom."
Harry looked surprised and the Squire serious. Boone

had been a silent listener.
"
But whether it is to be a kingdom, republic, or oli-
"
garchy," continued Rafe, airily, but with meaning, fe
foreign to the question at present.

"
Now, Boone, you have heard the statement and
know about as much of the matter as I can tell you.
7
Are you still willing to
fulfill your
undertaking as you
expressed Judge
it Anderson
to last March?"
Boone shifted a little in his seat, and then in his
quiet way replied :
" Whatever I undertake I go through with, if I can.

If I understand it, the Judge wants me to go out into
the open, and look about till I find the kind of country
he wants, so as to be able to describe it to him, and
give him some idee as to what kind of creatures there

are in it."
" That is about
it," said Rafe.
"
Do you know, in a few words," added Boone,*" about
"
where he wants me to go in ?
"
Yes, I do. He expects you to start about Clinch
River, and get through the mountains, and then strike
north-west for a hundred miles or so. It is about there
he means to begin to locate, as near as he knows, tak-
ing in territory south and east of that point."
" can him what he will meet up there,"
Well, I tell
said Boone, " though I've never been so far ;

but there's
buffalo all through the western plains, and Injuns the
worst kind. Out among us frontiersmen that country
is called the '
Dark and Bloody Ground,' for they do
say there's been more fightin' by the Injuns them-
selves right in there, an' more bloodshed an' more
scalps lifted, than in four times the amount of territory
arfywhere else in North America."

"
Then it is going to be dangerous work, I should
judge," said the Squire,

"
Well, it is going to be lively," replied Boone, "
A
DANIEL BOONS. 147
man's got to keep his mind about him when he's out
there, pretty continually.
"
But I am willing to undertake it,Mr. Slaughter,
just as I said in the beginning ;
and I can find up
around Yadkin about six, or five of just the men I
want, and some of 'em have been pretty well out there
already."
At this moment there was a tap at the door, and on
"
the Squire calling, " Come in ! a servant appeared
with a letter, which, on being examined, proved to be
for Harry Calvert ; one, in fact, which had been for-
warded from Baltimore during his absence in the woods.
The young man excused himself, and opened it. In
a moment, by the expression of his countenance, it
could be seen that the news conveyed was important

and not altogether agreeable.
"What is the matter, Harry, my boy?" cried the
Squire.
Harry folded the letter and placed it in his pocket,
then he said :
" "
My Uncle Fred is dead !
As he made this observation Rafe started a little,
but the movement was not noticed by the others, who

were intently watching Harry.
" "
Well, my boy," said the Squire, I am sorry he is
dead for his own sake, if he was desirous of living,
though he has had good long life of it but I hope

a ;
we may congratulate you on an improvement in your

fortunes."
" That is what you will not be able to do,
precisely
Uncle," said Harry, in a low voice, and looking down,

" me
My letter tells that he has bequeathed his entire
private fortune, including the homestead, and, indeed,

all his estates, to one Gabriel Herron, who is, I believe,
a cousin of mine, the son of Uncle Fred's sister."
As he said these words Rafe rose from his chair
and, crossing the room hurriedly, appeared interested

in looking at something through the window. The
others looked after him for a moment, but surmised
that he had made the movement out of delicacy con-
cerning what he would recognize as a purely family

matter.
The Squire was quite stunned with this information,
and for amoment could think of nothing to say.
He perfectly well knew of Harry's aspirations, which
he personally favored ;
but he knew also that this break-
down young man's hopes would be a death-
of all the
blow to his chances of marrying his cousin Maude.

Lady O'Brien, he was certain, would now be deter-
mined against a conclusion which she had always looked
upon with and whatever might be his predi-
disfavor ;
lections, the Squire was too easy-going a man to even

think of opposing his wife in a matter which concerned
her more nearly than it did himself.
With a sigh, as he thought of the sad hearts that
would result from this unforeseen situation, he braced
himself up to the immediate emergency. A little more
coolly than was his wont, he said :
" am
Well, Harry, I sorry, of course, and you know
"
anything that I can do for you
DANIEL BOONS. 149
" " "
Oh, yes ! said Harry, rising. I know perfectly
well you will be very sorry, but there's nothing to be
done for me but what I shall do myself. Thanking you
all the same for the Boone," he said, suddenly,
offer.
" whenever you are ready, I wish to join your expedi-
tion into the wilderness. There's nothing left for me
in the settlements."
Rafe had turned from his position in the window
and seemed about to say something, but, on considera-
tion, changed his mind.
The hunter held out his hand to Harry, and said :
" I
am sorry if you are disappointed, which, as I
understand it, you are, about getting your Uncle's

property ;
but never mind, you are a young man, and
if you go out with me I am sure the Judge, who is gen-
erous, will see that you sha'n't suffer."
Rafe came forward at this, and said, emphatically :
" You are right there, Boone. I can answer for the
Judge that if Mr. Calvert joins in his enterprise, he will
be taken care of."

" I "
suspect," said the Squire, it's about the best
thing you can do, my boy. If I go into this affair my
interests shall certainly be exerted in your favor."
Hairy bowed, but the poor fellow was quite crest-
fallen, and now made a movement to leave the room.
"There isnothing more to be said," added the Squire.

" You all understand that what has been mentioned
here is to be kept quite secret, excepting as to the gen-
eral fact that Boone is to head an expedition into the
wilderness to examine the country."

" That is it exactly," said Rafe, and upon this a
general movement was made to the door.

While the Squire went off to inform his wife as to
the turn of affairs, and Rafe drew Boone out toward
the piazza., where he held him in conversation, Harry
retired in the direction of his room. At the head of
the stairs he met Maude, and at once the young man's
pent-up feelings overcame him.
With every appearance of anguish in his counte-
nance he grasped her hand, and while the girl stood
wondering what could have happened, he said :
"
My dear Maude, a terrible calamity has come upon
me, which threatens to destroy all my peace of mind
and our promised happiness."
" dear Harry What do you mean ? What
Harry ! !
"
has occurred ?
"
MyUncle in Ireland is dead, and has left his for-
tune to my Cousin Gabriel Herron."

Maude knew any one how much depended,
as well as
with regard to Harry's and her own future, upon this

act. For a moment she was overcome but then the ;
natural courage of the girl came to her, and lifting her
head, she cried :
" make no difference. I have givei

Harry, it shall
my promise and there is my hand on it. I will not
retract, nor will I be prevented from doing what it is
right I should do. I am yours, promised and sworn,
and you can have me when you wish me."
Harry broke down at this completely, and for a mo-

ment was unable to control himself sufficiently to respond
DANIEL BOONE. 151
to the noble conduct of the girl he loved. He could
only grasp her proffered hand and draw her to his heart.
After a moment, he said :
" hold you to your promise, and I

My darling, if I
don't say that I shall, it shall not be to your injury.
Trust me " !
"
You must hold me to my promise," she said, look-
"
For you would not make me out an untruth-
ing up.
ful girl, for the mere purpose of sustaining an unwhole-
some pride. I say again, I will be your wife whenever

you wish it."
" "
Maude ! said a stern voice, and turning, the lovers
saw Lady O'Brien, who had approached without their
hearing.
" Go am ashamed
to your room, girl ! I to hear you
express such a determination in such language ;
and as
"
for you, Harry Calvert
"
Mother, you shall not insult him. He is my prom-
ised husband. I would not willingly be disrespectful
to you, but you must not urge me too far."

" Go "
to your room, Miss cried Lady O'Brien, !
white with passion.

Harry released the girl, whispering :
"
Go, Maude. This will all right itself in time, and
now that I know how you feel, nothing that is said can
"
trouble me. Go, dear ! ,.
With this request Maude complied, and retired to

her room.
Lady O'Brien remained, and made as if she would
speak to her nephew further ; but he, with a low bow

passed her where she stood, and proceeded to his own

room.
Hesitating for a moment, surprised at the firm atti-
tude of her daughter and nephew, her Ladyship, pres-

ently, with a toss of her head, proceeded down the
stairs, and joined her guests in the drawing-room ;
where already the downfall of poor Harry's prospects

was being thoroughly canvassed.
CHAPTER X.
Harry Calvert comes to a determination, and the Christmas festivities at Mount

Mourne to an abrupt conclusion. A family disturbance and a sudden sever
ing of family ties.
As though by a general understanding, the subject

of Harry's misfortune was not discussed during Christ-
mas-day, which was devoted, as usual, to the enjoyments

customary on that occasion throughout the southern
Colonies.
The news of the return of Squire O'Brien's friends
had spread among the few neighboring planters, and
some of these, with their families, rode over to Mount
Mourne to congratulate the family.
All day a great bowl of egg-nog stood on the draw-
ing-room table, and was visited frequently by the guests,

who became sufficiently hilarious to make the occasion
enjoyable.
During the day, the negro hands were called up to
the great house, and the gifts which had been provided
for them were These comprised blankets,
distributed.
shoes, bandanna handkerchiefs, sides of bacon and hams,
tea, tobacco, and such articles of clothing as were ap-
propriate to their condition and to the season. To

these were added, in certain instances, by Lady O'Brien
and Maude, gifts of ribbons and fancy articles to the
young girls, and toys to the children.

7* (153)
At night a pleasant party assembled in the drawing-
room, where immense wood fires roared up the chim-
neys and gave an air of homelike hospitality, which

could hardly have otherwise been so perfectly assumed.
Wine and punch were in requisition, and with these
and other refreshments the assembled guests made
themselves happy and contented.
On the following morning a reaction had taken place,
and when all met at breakfast, there could not but be
noticeable a gloomy aspect which seemed to indicate
the feelings of those present. There was but little con-
versation ; but, as the Squire rose from the table, he
requested Harry's presence in the library, whither he
was at once followed by the young man.
The Squire had in the meantime been thoroughly
instructed by his wife, and the customary geniality of
his nature was not apparent as he motioned Harry to
a seat, and closing the door, took one himself.
His very manner of opening the conversation was lit-
tle calculated to reassure the young man, but rather
tended to stimulate in him those sentiments of opposi-

tion which had already been awakened.
" I am
Now, Harry, my boy, to going speak frankly
" has informed
to you," said the Squire. Lady O'Brien
me between you and Maude, which she
of an interview
accidentally interrupted, the day before yesterday, and

I am bound to say, my dear fellow, that I hardly think
you have commenced by treating us exactly fairly under
the circumstances."
" sir" he began.
Harry flushed at this charge. But,
DANIEL BOONS. 155
The Squire held up one hand.

"
Don't interrupt me, please. Perhaps I put it a lit-
tle too strongly. Of course, I don't mean to accuse
you of any intentional deviation from a course which

would be correct, and much should be excused, I am
aware, on account of the excitement of your arrival,
and that, also, which would naturally result from the
bad news you had heard and I don't mean to exoner-
;
ate Maude either in fact, my Lady was, if anything,

inclined to be more severe with her than with your-
self."
" "
Uncle," interrupted Harry, you must know that I
can not consent to retreating from anything that I have
done, under cover of an accusation against Maude."
"
No ! No ! I perfectly understand that," and the
Squire again waved his hand as though to deprecate
" All I
interruption. mean, is, that both of you should
have been more on your guard and under self-control
than to have permitted yourselves a license which,
under the changed conditions, was, to say the least,
out of place."
"You must really excuse me," Harry burst forth,
and at the same time he rose to his feet and began to
pace the room with pardonable impetuosity.
" I do
not see this in the light that Lady O'Brien
and yourself evidently do, and my cousin Maude is of
my way of thinking. Now, I have no intention of be-

ing clandestine in any way, nor has she. But, Uncle
Hugh, we have talked this matter over a little, and
though at first I was honestly willing to give Maude
THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
up, she, like the dear faithful girl that she is, would not
listen to it for a moment. Under these circumstances,
you must see that I can not permit my fidelity to be

less than hers, nor my motives to be misconstrued."
" I see nothing of the kind, sir," said the Squire.
Opposition always irritated him, and in this case he

felt specially grieved, since his heart was with the
young couple, while his head strenuously forbade his

listening to its dictates.
" I can only see foolish obstinacy on her part and
wrong-headedness on yours."
"Sir!"
" Don't me I will not be interrupted.
interrupt !
What I was going to say before was this : Neither
Lady O'Brien nor myself will consent to any agreement

whatsoever between Maude and you, looking toward
marriage in the future.
" The idea has
always been obnoxious to her Lady-
ship ; and certainly under the present state of things,
I could not myself view it agreeably to your wishes. I
feel very sorry ; deeply pained to be obliged to place

myself opposition to you but in this instance there
in ;
can be no other conclusion."

Here he paused to take breath, and Harry at once
took up the subject.
"
What you say isvery unpleasant and very disagree-
ably put, but I do not mean to find fault with it on
that account. Lady O'Brien has always been unfriendly
to me, and am not surprised at her action in the mat-
I
ter ; but you, who have always treated me like a father,

DANIEL BO ONE. 157
I confess do surprise me by the manner in which you
adopt her views."

"
"
My dear boy the Squire, " I have the
! cried
same fatherly interest in you I always had. Do not

mistake in me; what is my simple duty, and a very dis-
agreeable one, for a desire to conflict with your happi
ness, not to speak of that of my only daughter. In-
deed, may
I have your interests both at
say, that I
heart, and I should be willing to modify what would

be my wife's view with regard to the matter to this
extent."
Harry listened courteously, but evidently without
much hope.
" The
bestthing for you to do," continued the Squire,
" and of course I don't mean to be discourteous or in-
hospitable but the best thing for you to do would be

;
to leave here at the first moment that is agreeable to
yourself, and return to your plantation ;

there or else-
where, to endeavor to build up your fortune.

"In fact, it is a great pity that you ever had the
cause, which I admit you have had, for neglecting your

own advancement. It is always a bad thing for a young
man to have expectations, and there never was better
evidence of this fact than is furnished by yourself.
"
And I you settle down
was going to add, that if
to a planter's life, or to any other which shall prove
advantageous, and if you should be successful and ac-

quire such a competence as would justify me, I would
not continue to be adverse to your union with my
daughter."
" Do you suppose," cried Harry, "that I can go back
to Baltimore among my associates, to be pitied by them
as a discarded heir?"
" Hem The
! situation does not present itself agree-
ably, at first glance, I admit but what plan have you

;
"
to suggest that will offer any improvement on it ?
" I have been reflecting carefully ever
This, Uncle.
since learning of changed condition, and I have
my
come to this decision, in carrying out which I hope to
have your aid.
" me
Nothing can induce to return to Maryland for
anything more than the briefest possible visit to settle
up my affairs. That I shall have to do, but I shall
make the journey subservient to my other purposes."

" And those are ? " said the Squire.
" What I have intimated to join Daniel
already :
Boone in his expedition beyond the mountains.

" You have told me you would me your influence
give
with your friend Judge Anderson, and in a new country,
and with land sufficient in quantity to make a planter's
life something of an object, I can hope to advance, and
in a few years occupy a respectable position."
" I see no objection to that plan," said the
Well,
Squire. Indeed it had already occurred to him that
itwas the very best way of settling all the difficulties.
Harry and Maude would thus be separated, and possi-
bly the whole affair might blow over. Thus thinking,
he continued :
" I will help you with Dick Anderson, and he is
certain to give you a patent of as much land as you may

DANTEL BOONS. 159
desire, and of your own selection. Very good idea, my

"
boy, very good indeed !
" But I had not

concluded, Uncle Hugh," said Harry,
as the Squire, rising to his feet, seemed to signify that
the interview was at an end. He seated himself, how-
ever, and resumed his attitude of listening, though with

a dubious expression on his face, as if he feared the
subject was not so happily arranged as he had antici-
pated.
" Maude we
is quite of my mind as to this plan, but
have both come to the conclusion that before I carry it
into effect we ought to be married."

" The devil "
you have roared the Squire, and his
!
"
face flushed with anger. Well, sir, this is a cool prop-
osition, but you may be certain it will go no farther.
I have still something to say, I think, with regard to the

matrimonial alliance of my own daughter."
Harry had fired his shot, and was as cool as the
Squire was irritated. He now rose in earnest to termi-
nate the interview, saying as he did so :
"Well, Uncle Hugh, I have no wish to anger you.

I did not invite this conversation, out of which, what I
"
have said has naturally grown. Maude and I
"
Don't dare to put yourselves together in a sentence
in that shape, young man. I won't have it."
"
Very well, Uncle. Then there is no more to be
said."
"
No, sir! No
more, certainly, from you. Whatever
else is to be said as to this most audacious proposal will
be said by Lady O'Brien to her daughter, in the way of
l6o THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
an injunction which I think Maude will hardly be in.
clined to disobey."
"We will leave that for herself to decide, Uncle
Hugh," and with that Harry opened the door and left
the room.
A moment later the Squire's bell was rung furiously,
and on a servant appearing in answer to it, a message
was sent to Miss O'Brien, that her father required her
presence in the library at once.
Maude obeyed the summons without hesitation.
The interview was held with closed doors, and was
a brief one. From the attitude and appearance of the
young lady as she left the room less than ten minutes
later,with her head high in the air, and her face pale,
but showing every sign of resolution, it was evident
that it had been a stormy one. She retired at once to
her chamber, while the Squire sought that of his wife.
By this time the household had been made aware

that something serious in the way of a domestic under-
current was progressing.
Harry on leaving his Uncle had sought Daniel Boone,

with whom he held a brief conference, when both went
to their respective rooms, and Harry proceeded to pack
up his belongings.
The few articles that Boone had carried in his saddle-
bags on the journey which had resulted so disastrously

for him, had been captured with his horse by his kid-
nappers, but had been regained from them after the
fight.
Harry had called young Hardeman to his room, and

DANIEL BO ONE. l6l
was in earnest conversation with him, while at the same

time engaged in his packing operations, when there was
a tap at the door, and on being told to come in, a young
negro girl, specially attached to Maude, entered on tip-
toe, and gave Harry a little note.
Excusing himself to his friend, Harry retired to the
window and read it.
"DEAR HARRY:
" / have had a terrible time with father, but I have
not flinched. Be firm and don't desert me, and you can
trust me throughout.
" Your MAUDE."
Harry could not the temptation to press the

resist
little wisp of a note to his lips, which action was seen
by Hardeman, who only coughed slightly to signify his

appreciation of the act.
Hurriedly scrawling a few words on a leaf torn from
his note-book, Harry handed it to the girl, with the
strict injunction to give it to her young mistress, and
no one else ; at the same time enforcing this order with
the gift of a half-crown.
" No one else sha'n't have it, massa, foh shuah. Fs
young missus' own gal, an* she ain't done got no nig-
ger on the whole plantation that's so trusty like me."

"That's all right. I believe you. Hurry along and
"
give her the note !
The girl ran out of the room, and started to find

Maude but at the head of the stairs
; she met Lady
O'Brien.
" "
Where are you going, Rose ? said my Lady.
"
I's gwine to find Miss
Maude, your Lad'ship."
At the same time the girl held the hand containing
the note concealed behind her.
Lady O'Brien had all the true Irish cunning despite

ner high birth, and in the present condition of affairs
it would not do to be too punctilious.
"
Very well, go and find her. I think she is in her
room," she said to the girl, who immediately started

to run past her. But before she had quite reached
Maude's chamber-door she felt a grasp of her wrist, and
at the same moment the note was snatched from her

hand ;
while the girl ran screaming down the stairs,
partly from fear of the consequences that might ensue,

and partly from the pain of a smart slap on the ear ad
ministered by Lady O'Brien.
The noise startled Harry within his room, and hurry
ing to the door, he opened it just in time to see Lad]

O'Brien reading the note which he had sent to hb
cousin.
With three strides he was at her side.
"
Your Ladyship will please give me that note, which
is mine, and which you have disgracefully purloined
from my messenger."
"
The note is addressed to my daughter, sir, and I
have a perfect right to possess myself of it. It is, more-

oVer, such a writing as you, if you possessed any gen-
tlemanly instincts, could never rave ventured to send

to her."
"
Madam, since you choose to resort to such under-
DANIEL BOONE. 163
handed methods of dealing with us, you need not be

surprised at any course which we see fit to pursue."
By this time the brief altercation, which was in rather

a loud tone, had been overheard by Maude herself, who
was waiting in her room for a response to her message.
She now opened her door, and appeared in the hall,
whereupon her Ladyship, disinclined to face both the
lovers together, hurriedly left the scene.

It took but a few words to explain to Maude the nat-
ure of the transaction in which her mother had been
prominent, and to communicate the contents of the

note. These had been simply a tender message, de-
signed to reassure the young girl, and satisfy her of the
continued determination of her lover. Of course, it
was not of a nature calculated to either reassure or sat-
isfy the actual reader.

An incident of the character just related could not
but increase the feeling of acerbity already existing,
and it became evident to the parties concerned that
some must be taken, and at once.
decisive action
With the speed with which violent conditions often
regulate themselves, the various parties to the present
one came to their several determinations, and before
the day was over the foundation of the acts which are
to form the remainder of this narrative had been laid,
though without any one of the characters being aware

of it, and a complete revolution had taken place
among the members of the family at Mount Mourne.
Maude was of age under the law, and free to go and
come at her own will.
A brief colloquy between Harry and herself, at which
Daniel Boone assisted, resulted in the following plan of
operations :
Maude was to be escorted by Daniel Boone and

Thomas Hardeman, with Mike Dooley acting as serv-
ant, to the residence of the farmer on the Yadkin.
Here she was to remain, while Harry and Rafe
Slaughter traveled eastward ; the latter to report to
Judge Anderson all that had occurred since he had

left him in March and as to most of which the Judge
was still in ignorance. Harry Calvert was to go on to
Baltimore and dispose of his plantation.
On his way westward to meet Daniel Boone at his
farm, Harry was to pick up Rafe Slaughter, when they
would journey the rest of the way together. The
time required for all of this travel and arrangement
would take until well into the spring, when Boone
expected to be ready with his own party for the ex-
pedition.
Suddenly thought out, this plan was no
promptly less
executed. Gathering together hurriedly such articles

as were essential, to be packed on a led horse which
belonged to young Hardeman, Maude prepared for her
journey.
At the last moment she was so earnestly entreated
by Rose, the girl whose accidental meeting with Lad)

O'Brien had brought affairs to a climax, that she de-
termined to take her with her ;
she being, in fact, the
actual propertyand slave of Maude, having been pur-
chased by her when still a child. Mike was his own
DANIEL BOONE, 165
master, and it \vas at his own suggestion that he formed

one of the escort.
Mr. Hardeman's plantation lay on the road which the

party would travel, and young Thomas rode thither in
advance to make his own preparations
In the meantime, the condition of mind of Squire
O'Brien and his Lady, not to say of their guests, the

rector and Mr. and Mrs. Rawlings, could hardly be con-
ceived. .
The latter found themselves most certainly de trop ;
and despite the urgent requests of the Squire and his

Lady, were getting ready for a hurried departure home-
ward the Rawlingses to the capital, and the rector to
his own At the last mo^
residence, a few miles away.
ment Mile. Raimonde, who had somehow been out of
sight and hearing during most of the trouble which had
been brewing, was made aware of it, and at once an-
nounced her determination to accompany her young
mistress. As this was gladly acceded to by Maude, it
completed an exodus of the entire household, except

the Squire, his Lady, and little boy.
It is certain that, seeing to what a pass their action
had brought them, these two would gladly have recon-
ciled matters, had not her Ladyship's pride intervened
but, indeed, everything had gone too far now for recon
ciliation, and when the sun set it was upon an empty
house and a deserted couple.

The Squire and his Lady, with their young son, were
left to contemplate the family ruin which had resulted '
1 66 LIFE AND TIMES OF b.* \f rjrj, BOONE.
from their opposition ; which, had it been less strenu-
ously manifested, or more delicately adjusted to the

people and circumstances involved, might still have
been successful while avoiding the present catastrophe,
;
and the long line of exciting and even terrible occur-

rences which were to follow in its wake.
CHAPTER XL
In which Stephen Roberts appears upon the scene for an instant, to the present
horror of the Reader, and for the thickening of the mystery which begins
to enfold the characters of this story.
WE must here turn the reader's attention backward

for a little space, while we relate certain events which
occurred a few days after the day when Boone and his
friends started on their journey homeward from the old
log-house.
On that morning, shortly after sunrise, a man on
horseback might have been seen slowly picking his way
over the still muddy road which led past the hill and
house in question.
This person has appeared already in the course of

our narrative, and would have been recognized as the
slim, pallid man with iron-gray hair who questioned one
of the Regulators concerning Daniel Boone just before
the riot at Hillsborough. It was, in fact, Stephen Rob-
erts, the man who had so signally discomfited Harry
Calvert during the interview held with him by the lat-
ter at his house, in regard to Boone's abduction.
A close inspection of his face, at the moment when

we now introduce him, would have shown that he was
a man who thought deeply, and who was at this time
in a reflective mood.
(167)
The bridle hung loose on the horse's neck, as the ani-
mal now ambled and now walked, according as the con-
dition of the road permitted, and at his own will other
wise. But, as he neared the house, Roberts raised his

head, and, looking about him, apparently recognizing
the locality, started the animal into a faster gait, which
speedily brought him to a point where he turned off
the road and ascended the hill.
In a few minutes the house came in view.
The door was wide open no smoke appeared issu-

;
ing from the chimney, while the ground in front was
trampled, as though by the feet of many persons and

horses.
The unexpected appearance of the place gave Stephen

Roberts a start and he hurried his horse until he had
;
reached the door, when he sprang to the ground, leav-
ing the animal to stand or wander, as he would.

The sight which met his astonished gaze as he stood
on the threshold, was enough to turn his face several
shades paler than was its wont, if that were
possible.
The scene was unexpected, ghastly, terrible.
On the hearthstone, by the cold cinders and
ashes,
lay the body of a man, bloated out of shape, and the
face blackened and distorted
beyond recognition.
Near him, lying upon his face, was the body of a
younger man, also dead.

At the other side of the room a number of bodies,
seemingly also those of dead men, were lying in differ-
ent attitudes, and so was
mingled together that it diffi-
cult to separate them from each other at the first glance.

DANIEL BOONE. 169
The whole aspect of the place was that of a charnel-

house ;
and Roberts stood transfixed with horror at
the fearful sight ;

but as he leaned forward, gazing at
the tangled mass of seemingly dead humanity, a live
hand and arm was stretched out to him imploringly, as
if for succor.
So strong had been the impression on his mind of
there being nothing living here, that he started back,
appalled with the reaction that occurred, when this

arm and hand, as though from the grave, made its mute
appeal to him.
But then a terrible voice, rendered husky and for-
bidding by anguish and privation, groaned forth the

words :
"Water! Water! For God's sake !"

The spoken words brought him to himself, and being
a man absolutely devoid of fear, though impressed and
he was witnessing, Roberts step-
startled with the sight
ped forward, and leaning over the one who had spoken,
recognized him.
"
For God's sake, Butler, is that you ? What has
"
happened ?
" "
Water ! Water ! was all the poor wretch could
utter ; and, seeing his extremity, Roberts stirred about
looking for what he wished, which he presently found
in a bucket on the table where was still the jug of
spirits.
Filling the pipkin, he carried it to the other, -jvho

seized it in his hand and drained it instantly. While he
was doing this Roberts perceived that he was tied with
8
,
70
ropes, from which he had managed to extricate the free

arm, but without being able to loose himself further.
His thirst Butler regained his voice suffi-
quenched,
ciently to relate briefly what had occurred. Having con-
eluded, and pointing over in the corner near him, he
said :
" There's Charlie who was alive at sunrise."

Cleeves,
Roberts went to the point indicated, where the man
lay on his back, not presenting any more appearance of
life, however, than was to be seen in the bodies
about
him. Placing his hand over his heart, Roberts perceiv-
ed a faint whereupon he filled the pipkin with
beating ;
water, and dashed some in his face.

The man was not so far gone but that this revived
him. He gasped, and after choking for a moment,
came sufficiently to himself to be able to quench his
thirst.
" "
Are there any more of you alive ? said Roberts,
addressing Butler.
The other shook his head.
" "
No," he said, the last two died last night. The
others were all killed during the fight. But untie me,
for God's sake, and let me out of this terrible hole."
To his surprise, Roberts did not immediately proceed
to act as he had requested. Instead of that, he raised
his hand as
enjoining silence, and stepping to the
if
door, passed over the threshold and outside.

The two men, who were watching him eagerly, ex-
changed glances as he disappeared and Butler said to
the other :
DANIEL BOONE \>j\
" "
What does he do that.for ?
"
Perhaps he heard something," replied the other.
But half satisfied, Butler began nervously to feel in
his pocket, and for a moment the rustling of paper was

heard. Then he resumed his attitude of listening, while
he waited.
In the meantime a strange course of conduct, under the
circumstances, was being pursued by Stephen Roberts.
On finding himself outside the house, his first act was
to look for his horse, which he presently saw gnawing
at the gray moss and stubble, among the trees a few
paces away.
Stepping to the side of the animal his next move-
ment was to extract from the holsters the two pistols
which were in them.
He tried the loads, examined the priming carefully,
and placing one each pocket of his heavy riding-coat,
in
returned to the door of the house, but not within sight

of the two men who were there impatiently waiting for
him.
He stood perfectly still, with his hands clasped be-
fore him and his head bent down, while he thought
deeply.
The nature of his reverie must ever remain between
him and his Maker. The result of it appeared in a few
brief moments after it concluded.
Shaking himself together, and apparently by the

movement divesting himself of some disagreeable or
painful impression, he took a pistol in each hand and
firmly walked into the cabin.

Instantly there was a report, quickly followed by

another; the two being divided by a wild scream of
mental and physical anguish.
Then there was silence; and as a cloud of smoke
poured through the doorway Stephen Roberts walked
steadily over the threshold, holding the two pistol
in one hand while he closed the door with the other.
He mounted his horse ;
and with a face no less and
no more pallid, and seemingly impressionless, he rode
on down the hill at a slow pace until he had gained the
road.
Then, as though pushed by such a remnant of a con

science as he possessed, or stung by such remorse as
might be possible to such a character as his, he put
spurs to his steed and dashed headlong through the
woods.
Months afterward, when the trees in the surrounding

forest were green, and the sun cast warm shadows upon
the ground, and the birds twittered and the squirrels
chattered in the boughs a party of immigrants, fathers,
;
mothers, and children, passing through the woods in

search of the land whereon
they were to settle, came
upon the old log-house on the hill-side.
Here they concluded to encamp, and take their noon
day meal and having alighted from the great wagon
;
which contained their household

goods and from the
hcrses which some of the elder of the
party rode beside
it one of their number, a lad of a dozen
bright years
DANIEL BOONE. 173
of age or so, ran laughing up to the door of the lonely
house.
Pushing that in he stumbled over the threshold.

A wild shriek of terror called the others to his side,
when to all of them, as they clustered about the en-
trance and gazed shudderingly within, there appeared

a ghastly mass of rigid skeletons, in the midst of which
one, in a sitting posture, with head erect, pointed at
them with outstretched fleshless arm and hand whose
extended finger of bone seemed to indicate that some-
where in the East, still unscourged of justice, might
live, awaiting his punishment, the man who murdered
his fettered and wounded comrades, that the secrets
between them might still lie hidden.
Looking upon this sight only long enough to imprint

upon their memories forever its every fearful character-
istic, the party hurried from the scene.
Picking their steps, on tiptoe, over the grass, they

hastened to resume occupation of their wagon, the
horses attached to which had been loosened for their
resting spell and then, hurriedly whipping up their

;
team, they fled with speed from the accursed spot.

These bearing the tidings to others whom they met,
it gradually grew to be known about Hillsborough that
the ghastly skeletons were those of the eight men
whose disappearance early in the winter previous had
mystified and alarmed their families and fellow-towns-
men.
These men were none of them of good character,
and while their loss had awakened much surprise and

I
74
inquiry and some investigation, it had thus not been

of a nature to cause much general grief.
A party being sent out to inspect the remains, and
give them decent burial, the conclusions reached con-
cerning their fate were found to be at variance one with

another.
While some believed they had fought among them-
selves ;
others scouted the idea, not unwisely, querying
how they could have tied themselves up in the manner
exhibited in the case of four of them.
Others thought that possibly some rambling band of
Indians, from the southwest, might have happened
upon the spot and massacred the whole of them.

But against this theory were set the facts that there
was no sign of tomahawk or scalping-knife visible on
any of the bodies. It was observed that the one found
in a sitting posture, and another near to him, had large
bullet-holes through their skulls.
The whole affair was so involved in mystery, that al-
though such attempt on the part of the officers of jus-

tice as could be made to clear it up duly occurred, no
result was reached.

The bodies were buried in the woods near where
they were found, and the old house gradually fell in
ruins, being ever after shunned by all who had heard

the terrible tale connected with it.
Naturally, in the course of his official duties, a
knowledge of this discovery came to the ears of Mr.
Rawlings, of the Governor's Council ; but that high

official did not probably conceive it essential to justic/j
DANIEL BOONE. !
75
to signify that he knew anything concerning the facts
involved.
While the strange story remained a matter of public
speculation, Stephen Roberts, as a prominent person of

Hillsborough, and a man well acquainted with all the
parties to this tragedy, was, of course, frequently ap-
pealed to ;
but from his reticence and apparent igno-
rance upon the subject, nothing could be learned.
Meanwhile, those who had been prime actors in the

beginning of the affair were many hundred miles away
from its scene, and remained ignorant of what
for years
had happened after their own connection with the oc-

currence.
Fortunately for them, amid the sorrows and the hor-

rorswhich many times encircled and disturbed their
own wandering life, no knowledge of the miserable and
cruel conclusion of the conflict in which they had taken
part, ever came, to still farther inflict their memories.
CHAPTER XII.
Showing how the Regulators had occupied t leir time, and disclosing the re-
sult of Harry Calvert's visit to his Plantation. With some relation of a

journey made to Judge Anderson, and what had happened there.
WHILE the incidents had been occurring which we

have already recounted, a train of events of a serious
character had attracted the attention of Eastern North
Carolina.
During the latter months of the year 1768, the Reg-
ulators, doubtless impressed with their success at Hills-

borough in the spring, had become more and more dar-
ing, and hardly a day or night passed that did not
witness outrages on their part.
These consisted in attacks on individuals, or in barn
or house-burning, as the case might be ; robbery com-
ing in as a customary adjunct such being generally
;
the case where large masses of the lower orders are

united in antagonism to the laws and to the powers
that be.
Of course, persons employed in official positions, and
those whose duty it was to dispense the laws, were more
immediately obnoxious to this class of agitators. Judge
Anderson occupying such a position, and being pecul-
iarly placed by reason of his connection with the Hills-
(176)
DANIEL BOONE. 177
borough riot, was specially an object of enmity and

antipathy on the part of the Regulators.
To
such an extent had these feelings on their part
been carried, that when Rafe Slaughter and Harry Cal-
vert reached Granville County and the vicinity of An-
derson's estate, they soon discovered marked evidence
of the destruction, which had even extended to this
distance from the region more generally infested by the

insurgents.
As they approached the mansion, and when the out-
buildings should have come in sight, there was displayed

before their eyes a scene of ruin, which, to one of them" 1
at least, could not but occasion the most poignant feel-
ings of distress and regret.

Of such buildings there remained nothing but black-
ened embers.
Leaving the main road for the drive which led di-
rectly to the mansion, the whole scene of destruction

lay before them.
The mansion itself was in ruins. This beautiful build-
ing,which was the pride of that part of the county in
which it stood, had been fired by the mob, and de-
stroyed with nearly all its contents ; Judge Anderson
and however, escaping with such articles of
his family,
value, important papers, etc., as they could hastily gath-

er and bestow about their persons.
But as to this, Rafe and his new friend were unin-
formed until they had made inquiries among the neigh-
bors from them they learned that the Judge and his
;
household were temporarily staying with a planter,

8*
I7 8
some ten miles further on ;

and thither they imme-
diately directed their steps, riding at such speed

as
they might, Rafe being necessarily anxious for the wel-

fare of his patron and the family.
At the place designated, the house of a well-to-do
planter, the whole family were found, and Rafe was
gladly welcomed by allHarry Calvert was

of them.
also received courteously and hospitably, and at once
made to feel quite at home.

The story of the ruin which had been occasioned by
the depredations of the Regulators was one which, by
this time, was familiar throughout the Colony.
In this instance, that there was not loss of life, as
there had been in certain other cases, was due, perhaps,

more than to anything else, to the fact, that the Judge,
who had warm friends among every class of people,
had been warned in time to enable him to vacate the
premises before the attack had been actually made.

He had thus been enabled to secure all his valuables,
and all the records and documents belonging to his

official position, and which were in his hands at the
time.
After listening to the Judge's story, of course Rafe
became the object of many questions, no tidings, ex-
cept a single message, having been received from him
since he left Granville in March.
The Judge had become acquainted with the fact of

the capture of DanielBoone beyond this he knew ;
nothing ;
and was, of course, deeply interested in the
details of the expedition in which the two persons
DANIEL BOONE. 179
before him had been engaged, and which had resulted

in the attack on Boone's captors, and the release of the
pioneer.
In passing through Hillsborough, Rafe and Harry
had heard remarks dropped concerning the prolonged
absence of the seven or eight persons who had been
concerned in the kidnapping of Boone ;
but they cer-
tainly did not consider it essential or desirable to inti-
mate to any one the connection which they had had

with the delay in the return of these adventurers ,
they, however, informed Judge Anderson of all the

incidents of the capture, and were advised by him to
continue to keep the matter a profound secret.
"You see, Rafe," said the Judge, "little either of
you know of what may have happened in those lonely

woods after you left the whole matter may come up
;
hereafter, and on that account as well as on many
others, your plan of going out with Boone appears

to be a good one in the present troubled state of the
times.
"
Although my position should perhaps deter me
from such recommendation, I can not but think that
the further you are away from this locality, the better
it will be for all concerned."
" From your way of receiving this, Judge," said Rafe,
" I am led to suppose that you have not changed your
intentions in regard to Boone."
"
Certainly not," observed the Judge, with emphasis.
" While it is true that I have met with a very serious
loss, and one that in some particulars can not be re-
,80 THE LITE AM) TIMES OF
placed, it is also true that the pecuniary misfortune
will not upon me in the end.

fall
" The Government, you know," he continued, smil-

" will continue to take care of its honest servants.
ing,
The taxation of this county may be increased next year,
but certainly I shall not suffer ultimately.

" Some of my friends who are concerned with us in our
enterprise, have also been sufferers at the hands of the
Regulators them more severely than myself.

;
some of
Though they have lost much that can not be replaced,

they are not ruined, and can still control large means ;
and the amount that I think will be required to carry

out our project is not sufficiently great to seriously in-
commode any of us.

" As
regards the general question, while I regret, of
and the danger and hardships to
course, the time lost,
which Boone and those of you who went to his assist-
ance have been subjected, these incidents need not ma-
terially interfere with the project as a whole.

" In
going to the assistance of Boone," he added,
'
you did precisely what I should have advised and
wished under the circumstances. Situated as I am, I
could hardly get along without Boone, and I owe you
and your associates a debt of thanks for having pro-

ceeded so adventurously and so energetically toward
his recapture.
" And I am
happy to add," and here he bowed to
Harry, "that I shall with pleasure confer upon youi
friend Mr. Calvert, if he joins Boone and yourself, a pat
ent for as much land as he may desire for his own uses
DANIEL BOONE. igl
" So immediate plans are concerned, am

far as my I
only remaining here with my family as the guest of my

friend and neighbor, and my stay must be shortened as
much as possible.
" The Government is determined to take the most
energetic course in suppressing this insurrection. Al

ready the militia have been called into requisition, con
centrated, drilled, and properly officered.
" Next these ruffians will be
year captured individu-
ally ; or, if they combine, will be attacked in force, and
the entire movement suppressed, no .matter at what
cost of lives or property.
"
They are already pretty well scared by the deter-
mination which is being manifested on the part of the

Government, and I anticipate no further trouble, at
least so far from the center of the insurrection as Gran-
ville is.
" I have
given the necessary orders, and shall at once
commence to rebuild. I have also undertaken corre-
spondence, which will enable me to gather together
suitable furniture and fittings for my future residence ;
this is likely to occupy me during the next year.

"
In the meantime, as far as you are concerned and
I am glad of your having friends who are willing to
join you I desire that you will follow out my original

intentions, unite yourselves with Boone, place your-
selves under his orders, and proceed with your explora-
tion as already directed."
After some further conversation, the Judge concluded
to send Rafe with Harry Calvcrt to the coast, in order
Ig 2 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
to facilitate and hasten all his business arrangements

with regard to rebuilding his house.
The two only remained a day with the Judge, and
thcp started on their journey. After proceeding to-
gethc. about ninety miles they separated Harry to go

north into Virginia, his idea being, on arriving at the
first seaport, to take vessel for Baltimore ;
while Rafe
continued on to prosecute the Judge's business.
It was agreed between them that they should meet
at Hillsborough in the following March, a day being

appointed, to meet which their arrangements should be
made and it was agreed that whichever one should
;
arrive first should await the other.

It is unnecessary to follow the Judge's secretary in
the conduct of the affairs in his charge, and we will,
therefore, accompany Harry in his progress northward.

After a journey without adventure, he arrived at
Norfolk, where he was fortunate in finding a small ves-
sel loading and bound for Baltimore.
A week's delay, which he passed in needed rest and
recuperation, found him on board this vessel and after ;
rather a boisterous voyage, but without accident, he

reached Baltimore ; here he found that the news of his
cousin's inheritance had preceded him, and that his
associates were all better informed than himself as to
the facts in the matter.
Whiic most of these liked and admired Harry suf-
ficiently not to permit his misfortunes to have any
veight in disturbing their friendship for him, there

were a sufficient number of a different nature, who sue-
DANIEL BOONE. 183
ceeded in making it quite uncomfortable for him to
move in his usual circles. This made it desirable fot

him to close up his affairs as speedily as possible, and
leave, he hoped forever, a place which had become
essentially disagreeable to him.
One of his first acts, however, was to visit his attor-
ney, whom, also, he found to be well-informed as to his
uncle's disposition of his property, and from whom he

learned that Gabriel Herron, the heir, had not been
heard from in a number of years.
He was said to have been reckless and dissipated in
his life at home, and had finally found himself in some
trouble sufficiently important to induce him to leave

the country. Whither he had gone was not known,
but it was believed he was living in India and the ;
lawyer informed Harry that a messenger had been sent

to Calcutta to endeavor to obtain traces of him.
The fact of his absence from the country was well
known to the testator, who had specifically mentioned
it in his will, adding that if no tidings should be ob-
tained concerning him within a period of seven years,
the bequest should be diverted from its original destina-
tion, and should accrue to Harry Calvert.

" "
What do you think of all that ? asked Harry ot
the lawyer, after the latter had concluded his state-
ment.
" What do you mean ? " said the other.
" What do
I think of the will, or of the probability of your consin's
"
ever getting his bequest ?
"
Well, both."
1
" "
As to the will," continued the lawyer, I do not
know what to think. Why your Uncle Frederick
should have so suddenly changed his mind (for I
always supposed he had made it up definitely in
your favor), I can not imagine. In this connection I
would like to ask you one personal question ; you need
not answer it if you do not like to.
" Have you done anything to occasion this change in
your uncle, or do you personally know of any reason

"
for it ?
" I have not done nothing that should have

only
gone to my injury in his mind, but, on the contrary,
our relations have always been of the pleasantest nat-

ure. All his letters to me have always been of the
kindest, and without absolutely so stating, have been

of a nature to give me the impression that he intended
to make his will in my favor.
"
When I was visiting him he was more than kind,
more than hospitable. He not only entertained me as
he would an honored guest, introducing me to all the

gentry of his neighborhood, but on my leaving him, as
you are aware, he made me a handsome gift, which en-
abled me to clear my plantation of debt. But let us
not proceed further with this part of the subject."
" "
Well, then," pursued the lawyer, in answer to the
second half of our question, as to the probability of your

cousin succeeding. I must say, from what I have
learned regarding him, I do not think they are in favor
of that conclusion. Gabriel Herron seems to have been

a wild, harum-scarum, devil-may-care kind of a fellow in
DANIEL BOONE. 185
college always in disgrace and under discipline who

; ;
was rusticated, and would have been expelled but for

his family influence, and this succeeded only in enabling
him to withdraw before he had finished the course.

" Almost immediately thereafter he got into serious
difficulty in Dublin, of the nature of which I have my

own ideas :
worrying his family, who got money enough
together to send him out of the country. He certainly
went to Calcutta of that I believe there is no doubt ;
but that was a good many years ago, and whether he

ever removed from that country, I know not."
"
My cousin, if he is living, is a good deal older than
"
I, is he not ? queried Harry.
" " he must be twenty
Oh, yes," said the lawyer,
years or more older ;

he belonged to the older branch
of the family ;
his mother, who was a Calvert, having
married very young. My own belief is that he is dead,
and that the money in question and at interest it will
have become a very large sum seven years from now
will eventually go to yourself."
" "
However," said Harry, that is all problematical ;
I may be dead myself before then. I suppose there

"
can be no doubt about the validity of the will ?
" "
Oh, not the slightest," replied the other. My in-
formation comes to me direct regarding it, and there is
no doubt of its having been properly signed, witnessed,

and recorded."
Harry was silent for a moment ;
then he heaved a
sigh, and as if by that action discharging the subject
from his mind, he said " : I have
Very well, something
else to speak to you about. I want to sell my planta-
tion."
"
The lawyer looked surprised. Why do you do
'' " It now
that ? he said. is just in excellent condition,
and if you would stay here and look after your inter-
ests, you would soon be far on the way to become as
rich as your uncle."
" There is no use in discussing that question," said
" I have made up my mind, and we will
Harry firmly.
not waste time. I have the best possible reasons for
my course, one of which, by the way, is, that no amount
of money or degree of success could induce me to live
here or in this neighborhood, any longer than necessity

demanded."
" " "
Oh, all right ! said the lawyer; if you have made
up your mind, I shall not attempt to change it. You
willhave no difficulty in selling your plantation for a
fair price have a customer in 'my mind," he
; indeed, I
"a
continued, thoughtfully young gentleman who has ;
just arrived here from London with a good deal of
money and not so much brains, and certainly not much

experience.
"
He is anxious to equip himself, in respect to the
last quality, by running a plantation. Yours will just
suit him, and I will see him this very day and sound
him concerning it. Do you wish to fix a price upon it,
"
or will you leave it to me ?
" I will leave that entirely to you," said Harry, ris-
"
ing ;
I certainly know nothing of its present value ;
and besides, if I did, I would depend sooner upon youf

DANIEL BOONE. 1 8;
judgment. I will only mention, however, that I shall
go out to the place to-night and will stay there until

you have effected a sale, and that the purchase will not
include my horses, while I shall reserve such personal
articles as I may want to retain ; all such will be left
out of the schedule which send you to-morrow.
I will
*
The hands will go with the plantation. If they h ave not

increased or decreased since I have been away, there are
about forty of them. The overseer will, I know, want
to stay there, and I shall be glad to recommend him.
"
As
to everything else price, terms, time of hand-
ing over the property, and so on I leave it all in your
hands, only begging that you will complete the transac-

tion as speedily as possible. It is quite unnecessary for
me to add, that I
hope you will take
good care of my
interests, for I know you would do that with more jus-
tice, and
might add generosity, than you would
I if
they were your own."

The lawyer laughed aloud with a gratified look at
this compliment, and the two separated. The same
evening, as he had stated he should do, Harry rode out to
the plantation, where he received a warm welcome from
his slaves.
Harry had always been a kind master to them, and

their delight at his return was speedily changed to
every manifestation of warm regret when they learned

that he was about to permanently leave them. The
relation of master and slave at this time, where it was
at all kindly and wholesome, was of the most agreeable

character in regard to both.
!88 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
the slaves
Pretty generally in the case of plantations,
had been long held in the same family. The evil-dis-
were gradually
posed and those otherwise obnoxious,
" natural
weeded out by the process of selection," and
those who remained were of the best class, faithful,

this was the case, to a re-
capable, and trustworthy ;
markable degree, with those in Harry's charge, and,

consequently, they felt, as they expressed, a sincere
sorrow at parting with him.

The change was made even sooner than Harry him-
self had anticipated, for three days from the time of his
arrival at the plantation, the lawyer rode up there in
the evening accompanied by the young Englishman

of whom he had spoken, and who was quite as anx-
ious to buy as Harry was to sell.
On
going over the plantation the following day, he
expressed entire satisfaction with everything, and great
anxiety to complete the bargain at once. The details
were speedily concluded, and twenty-four hours after-

ward Harry had bidden farewell to his home and after ;
sending such he had chosen from his per-

articles as
sonal property (including his horses) to Baltimore, he

followed them himself, and, comfortably established in
1
a tavern, awaited the completion of his business.

This was effected on the following day, and with a
handsome sum deposited in the hands of his bankers, and
sufficient money about his person to answer his proba

ble wants for the immediate future, Harry was free to
move inany direction that seemed good to him.
It was by this time late in January, and as there re-
DANIEL BOONE. 189
mained to him several weeks before the time of his
appointment with Rafe Slaughter, Harry determined

to pay a visit to Philadelphia, which city, curiously
enough, he had never yet seen.

His distaste for Baltimore and all its associations not
only continued, but increased, as the slight improve

ment in his fortunes brought about him those of his
former companions who had shown a desire to avoid
him after being informed of his changed condition.
He accordingly took the coach for Philadelphia, and
reaching that passed a pleasant fortnight, making
city,
many friends and acquaintances while there, to his

;
astonishment, the name of his successful competitor
for his uncle's fortunewas brought anew to his mind.

Happening to be in a store one day making some
purchases of articles he would be likely to need on the
journey he purposed undertaking, he overheard a cus-
tomer in conversation with the proprietor of the store,
mention the name of Gabriel Herron, a fact which quite
astonished him, since it was not a common name. He
waited until the customer had retired, when he vent-
ured to ask the old Quaker who kept the store what
he knew of the person whose name had just been
mentioned. The old man looked at him curiously
for a moment.
"
He was employed by me some eight or ten years
ago, and that person was inquiring after him," he said,
presently.
" "
Do you know anything of his antecedents? asked
Harry.
ICfO
" " He came here with-
Very little," was the reply.
out letters of introduction of any kind, and I took him
on chance, happening to want somebody at that mo-
ment.
" He was and industrious, but
intelligent, educated,
I soon found that he led a wild and reckless life, and
was not suited for my employ, so I dismissed him."
" "
Do you know what became of him?
" me
Nothing more than what he told ;
he said that
he should go to Boston, and from there, probably return
to his home since then I have never seen him or heard
;
of him, and the information I have just given you, was

what I gave to the gentleman whom you overheard."
Harry thanked the store-keeper for his answers, and

having completed his purchases, retired to his lodging-
house, whence he immediately sent a letter to his law-
yer Baltimore, containing a concise statement of the
in
information he had received.

This letter he soon after followed to its destination ;
but with a conversation on the subject which he

this,
had with the lawyer before leaving Baltimore, resulted

inno conclusion of importance.
Indeed the chance information he had received only
added to the probability that the person in question
was still
continuing his wanderings in strange lands;
since if he had been anywhere in the United Kingdom,
the means undoubtedly used to discover him (as is
customary in such cases) would have certainly found

him.
Leaving Baltimore, Harry traveled as rapidly as pos-

DANIEL BOONE. I
9I
sible, with necessary resting-spells, and, without any
special occurrence of importance, reached Hillsborough

at the time agreed upon with Rafe Slaughter.
But here he found a message from the latter, inform-

ing him that the Judge's business was likely to detain
him a month longer in Granville, and that Harry could
either await him at Hillsborough, join him in Granville
County, or push on to Boone's, where they would meet

as soon as Rafe could make the journey.
Little foreseeing how much of importance hung on
his decision, or how it would affect, not only himself,
but the future of the one nearest and dearest to him,
Harry concluded to remain in Hillsborough.

He accordingly sent a messenger to Granville, ac-
quainting Rafe with his conclusion, and set himself to
waiting patiently during the time specified.
The time hung heavily on his hands, and having
nothing especial with which to occupy his mind but
his anxiety to reachBoone's and meet his betrothed :
Harry amused himself by making acquaintances among

the Hillsborough people, and particularly in the circles
of the Regulators wherever he could find them.
To this course he was led, partly by real
sympathy
with the actual wrongs against which they were strug-
gling, and partly by curiosity to discover, if possible, the

motive of Boone's kidnapping.
Some expressions employed by Judge Anderson in
conversation, and something in his manner, had led
Harry to believe that he was not entirely opposed to

the sentiments, at least, which actuated the Regulators,
192
or such of them as were in this conflict from motives ol
principle.
Again, Rafe's method of stating the nature of the

Judge's plans had awakened his curiosity. There was
" in
already the air" a feeling of antagonism against the
King's government, existing more strongly, even, in

the eastern Colonies than in North Carolina.
Even in the latter Colony, the stamp-act, for instance,
had been received with a universal howl of execration.
The people and demanded from Gov. Tryon the
rose
person of James Houston, stamp-master; who, on being

surrendered, was carried to the market-house at Wil-
mington, and made to take an oath that he would not

execute his office this had occurred in 1765..
;
Harry found that this whole subject was being freely

talked overamong such of the Regulators as he met,
and he became impressed with the conviction that their
movement would be eventually swallowed up in a far
grander one of the same character. He could proba-
bly have gained much more information than he did,

had he been willing to associate with Stephen Roberts.
But the interview he had held with the man had prcj-
udiced him in his disfavor ;
and besides, he could not
forgive him for the connection he still believed him to
have had with the outrage on Boone.
Once only during his stay in Hillsborough did
Harry
meet Stephen Roberts face to face. On this occasion
the Regulator accosted him from own
his doorstep, ana
desired to speak with him ;
Harry entered his office,
where he was detained, as it chanced, for nearly an hour
DANIEL BOONE. 193
while Roberts plied him with questions as to his view

of public affairs. He was careful, however, to commu-
nicate nothing that would disclose his own opinion ;
and Harry left him with his mind in a whirl of doubt as

to the reason why the interview had taken place at all.
It was not until the middle of May that Rafe Slaugh-

ter arrived in Hillsborough and, notwithstanding they;
then pushed on with great haste, they were chagrined

to find, on reaching Boone's farm, that the hunter had
gone on without them.

He had taken his departure on May ist, and had
united with him, John Findlay, John Stuart, Joseph
Holden, and James Moncey, all experienced hunters
and backwoodsmen, and had left behind him another of
the party, William Cool, to guide the others on his
trail. The party had left the Yadkin on May 1st, and
now it of that month, so that Boone and
was the 2Oth
his companions had about three weeks' start.
Harry and Rafe were for proceeding immediately to

follow Boone's steps ;
but here a new difficulty present- ^
ed itself in the person of Maude.
The young girl had languished from December until
May, fretting for her absent lover. Now that he was

restored to her, only to be again torn from her side, her
heart rebelled and notwithstanding the misconstruc-
;
tion that might be put upon her wish, she declared

that he should not go into the wilderness without her.
But to this Harry would not for a moment consent,
though it made his heart bleed lo leave her for a long
"and perilous absence. He had bv this time, and after

9
discussing the matter fully with Rafe, on

whose advice
he relied, determined that he would not marry Maude
until this expedition was completed, and he was entitled
to the estate whichJudge Anderson had promised him
As to permitting the girl he loved and respected to
accompany him in any other position than as his wife
he would not listen to it. In this dilemma, Rafe made
a suggestion which promised to arrange the matter sat-
isfactorily to all parties.
As Maude was determined to follow the fortunes of

her lover, and as Mademoiselle and Rose were to ac-
company Rafe suggested a compromise.

her,
This was to the effect that Harry and the guide
whom Boone had left behind should start at once to
overtake Boone, and that the rest of the party should
follow at about the time when Boone's party would be
returning, and, meeting them on their way back, should
return with them. The females of the party would
then not have to go far enough into the woods for the
excursion to be dangerous ; Harry's scruples would be
consulted Maude would have the prospect of rejoin-
;
ing her lover and the promising excitement of the

journey to occupy her in the meantime and thus all ;
would be satisfied.
Maude demurred a little at first, as she would still
experience the separation from Harry which she de-

plored but was at length induced to consent to this
;
arrangement. Harry accordingly bade her a tender

farewell, and set forth with Cool, while the others pre-
pared to wait the necessary period of delay a period

DANIEL BOONE. 195
which Rafe determined to make as long as possible, so

as to shorten the journey which Maude persisted in un-
dertaking.
As to the journey itself, so far as the women were
concerned, nobody any particular doubts or scru-
felt
ples. In those days it was common for women and

even refined ladies to undertake long migrations
through the wilderness.
It was in fact no more than Squire O'Brien's family
had done less than a dozen years before, and when the
section to which they migrated was nearly as wild, and
as much infested with Indians, as was the region now
to be explored. As for Maude, she was accustomed to
make long and rough journeys about the country:
while Mademoiselle Raimonde remembered very well,
and not disagreeably, her original migration from the
sea-board to the place now occupied by the Squire's
estate.
They would be
properly dressed and prepared for the
adventure, and none of the party experienced any fears
as to their being able to prosecute it safely and success-
fully.
CHAPTER XIII.
A iwy long the practice ol

chapter, in which certain of the characters begin
pioneer in earnest. The Reader makes a third in a discussion on moral
life
philosophy, which is interrupted by a very sudden

and unexpected occur-
rence, and Mike Dooley increases his knowledge of Natural History.
THE reader who desires to have a correct conception

of the nature of the country west of the Cumberland
range at the period of this story, must imagine at the
outset, a tract of territory extending beyond any limits

then known to exist, and which had been untrodden by
the white man, and was as unknown a wilderness as any
portion of the globe ;
but three or four hunters, among
whom, John Findlay was had penetrated this re-
one,
gion, and they only to a short distance of the mountain
range we have just named.

From their story, it was known to the few whites
whom they encountered in their frontier residence, that
the country that forms now the eastern section of the

State of Kentucky, was extensively wooded and well-
watered. The timber included ash, walnut, hickory,
and sugar-maple in the river bottoms, cottonwood,
;
and in some sections, the magnolia, besides other trees

common to this latitude.
While immediately west of the mountains it was hilly,
though with heights notarising to any great eminence,

(196)
DANIEL BOONE. 197
beyond and along the valleys there were wide-spreading

plains.
Here immense herds of buffalo ranged at will, and
the only tracks through the limitless forests were formed
by them as they went to and from the salt-licks or
springs which were common in Kentucky, and were

necessary to their subsistence.
As has been already stated, this territory was neutral
ground so far as the Indians were concerned, although

it actually belonged to the Cherokees who with the
Shawnees and other were not infrequently in-
tribes
volved in warfare among themselves, a fact which caused

this part of the country to be often the scene of bloody
contests when parties of two hostile tribes chanced to
meet in the forest or on the plains.

Rumors of such contests were common among the
peaceful Indians, and through them had reached the

whites along the border and so it had occurred that
;
"
this was known as the Dark and Bloody Ground."
The tendency of the whole Colonial settlement in
the beginning, as ever since, was westward.

With a wild energy and enthusiasm which would
seem to have been bred into them from the very gran-
deur of the country, the natives developed pioneers in
large numbers, and these constantly spread the tide of
emigration, until seemed that no expanse of terri-
it
tory, however great, would ever be sufficient to satisfy

the constantly increasing demands of these vigorous
and hardy people.
There was a restlessness, and a desire for exploration
I9 g
forever being awakened among the young men, which

had already resulted in the production of the class of
adventurers of whom Boone, Findlay, and Harrod were

types.
These men were active, strong, fearless, and accus-
tomed to hunting excursions ;
far more familiar with
nature than with men ; expert with the rifle and the
knife ;
never satisfied to remain upon their farms, or to
devote their time to husbandry or other quiet and
peaceful pursuits.
It would seem that the spirit that Boone confessed
actuated him most, in some measure directed them ;
yet among themselves, as Boone had stated, they were

little inclined to recognize such motives, but attributed
their course of life purely to a love of adventure, to the
excitement of the chase, and to the natural impulse to

drive back the red man,whom they hated, even though
the territory was his.
Two years had passed since we left the characters in

this story, and since Boone had begun his dangerous
and adventurous exploration into this wilderness, and
nothing had been heard either of himself or his com-
panions.
At the time we have now reached, his brother, Squire
Boone, had set forth on an undertaking to find him,
and at the same time convey to him a supply of ammu-
nition and other necessaries for which he must have by
this time become in extreme want.

With the journey of Squire Boone, this story has
nothing to do, and it needs only to be said here, that

DANIEL BOONE. 199
he accomplished his purpose, and despite the apparent

difficulties in the way of so doing, succeeded in follow-
ing his brother through the almost trackless wilder-

ness, and finding him encamped.
It was a lovely day in September, 1771, when a col
umn of smoke arising among the trees that covered a

considerable elevation standing at least a hundred miles
to the north-west of what is now known as Cumberland
Gap, would have made known to any passing hunter
or chance Indian who might have been in that vicinity,
that some kind of human life and action occasioned its
appearance.
No hunter or any Indian was near enough to observe
this evidence of camp-life and activity, but the reader
being placed in a position to acquaint himself with what

was occurring, may become better informed.
A little opening in the woods offered excellent facili-
ties for encampment, and here a fresh fire had been

kindled whose smoke sought the clouds above.
About the fire, resting upon the grass, or moving in
pursuit of different duties, might have been seen the

various persons whose intended emigration into the
wilderness was referred to in the last chapter.
The fire was being sustained by Mike Dooley,
itself
whose appearance was changed but little since we last

saw him, and who still exhibited the activity of move-
ment and vivacity of manner which had always charac-
terized him.
Down on his knees in front of the blazing logs, he

was vigorously poking the hot coals together, prepara
tory, apparently, to a satisfactory culinary

arrangement
for breakfast. Behind him, and just appearing from
the woods, was Thomas Hardeman, bearing in his arms
a number of newly-cut fagots to replenish the fire.
The sharp ringing of an axe would have carried the
eye of a spectator to where, some
few rods away, the
short but active form of Rafe Slaughter wielded the
implement in question, as he swung it vigorously with

his long arms, while he cut the wood which his compan-
ion transferred to the point of use.
At one side were Maude O'Brien, her companion
Mile. Raimonde, and the negro girl Rose. Maude was
engaged in exercising a feminine accomplishment, as
she mended a garment belonging to one of the men of
the party, which had evidently met with misfortune.

Rose was busy getting out such of the utensils as
were required for cooking. The French woman was
employed in preparing breakfast, which seemed to con-
sist of good-sized venison steaks and coffee. A little
further off their Indian guide sat on the stump of a tree,
cleaning his rifle.
The party was complete ; apparently in good health

and and did not appear to have suffered mate-
spirits,
rially in any particular from the effects of their long

ourncy and camp-life.
Raising her eyes from her occupation, Mile, cried
out to Mike " Are the coals ready ?"
:
"
They be," said Mike, sententiously.
"Then I will go to make the cuisine," she continued,
and at the same moment proceeded with her steaks,
DANIEL BOONS. 2O1
which she carried on a tin platter, to where Mike was

kneeling, and at once entered upon the important duty
of cooking breakfast.
" "
Rafe," shouted Hardeman, unless you are anxious
for more you may stop your chopping there
exercise, ;
is more wood here than we can use in two days."

Rafe said nothing, but after a few more vigorous
strokes with his axe, desisted from his labors and joined
the others.
" Miss Maude," he The
I hope you rested well, said.
young girl looked up and smiled as she answered pleas-
antly :
"You take such good care of me, you and Mr. Harde-
man, that it would be cruel in me to insinuate that I
did not rest well, if it were true, which it is not ;

for I
slept charmingly, and feel equal to anything."

"
To breakfast, for instance," said the younger man,
who had now joined them " such ;
a lovely morning
would give even a sick person an appetite."
"
Well, Miss Maude," continued Rafe, as he threw
himself by her side on the grass; "you have by this
time quite overcome whatever fears you might have

had at the beginning of our undertaking."
" we have
Yes, indeed ;
seen nothing but beautiful
things since we left the farm, and although I confess I

felt at the beginning a little nervous as to what we
might possibly meet, I am so no longer. It would be
paying all you brave fellows a poor compliment not to
feel safe in your company."
" " that a
But I think," said Hardeman, good many
9*
of the stories about the Indians that have been told by
the men who have come into this region, have been
fictions, or at least exaggerated. From all I could learn
bafore I left home, there are nothing but peaceful In-
dians so far east as this."
"Why should they come here?" queried Maude,

" when there is so much territory, as we hear there is,
quite as well adapted to their wants, away to the far
West of us?"
" "
Why, indeed," observed Rafe, I expect they lead
a roving life, and go over the whole continent if they
choose, at their own pleasure but not far from here,
;
as I from John, there are favorite hunting-grounds

learn
where the buffalo range in great numbers, and are, of

course, an attraction to the Indians."
"
John," he continued, looking toward the Indian
"
guide, how far do you think we are from the nearest
"
buffalo range ?
The Indian looked up, and ceased a moment from

his occupation of cleaning his gun. He was a Chero-
kee, familiarly known as Indian John, and who had
been picked up by Rafe in the vicinity of the Yadkin,
whither he used to go, about once a year, on his way
to the nearest settlement, with
peltries to exchange for
ammunition. Among the frontiersmen he had a good
reputation for honesty and fidelity ; a man about thirty

years of age, he was nearly six feet in height, rugged,
and straight as an arrow, while his aspect was fearless
and dignified, without being in the least savage.
" "
Ugh ! he said, as he prepared to answer Rafe's
DANIEL BOONE. 203
" two
question ;
buffalo plenty one three day jour-
ney way there." As he named the days, he numbered

them off on his fingers, and then pointed westward with
his left hand to signify the direction.
"So near?" said Rafe, surprised.
"
Do dou think," said Maude, addressing the Indian,
" we will find any Indians there, John ?"
" Indian Bime by come
not there now. plenty. Get
"
buffalo meat. Ugh !
" "
Then, according to that," said Hardeman, before
'
'
bime by comes, we would do well to be past the hunt-
ing-ground."
" " at
Exactly," remarked Rafe ; present we will take
a day for rest, and then we will push on."
"
Our larder needs replenishing," observed Maude ;
" Mile, me that we are going to eat our last meat

tells
for breakfast."
" "
Well," said Rafe, one of us will go out this morn-
ing, and we are very certain to see a deer at least we ;
have been fortunate in that direction thus far."

By time the pleasant aroma of coffee signified
this
that the meal was about prepared, and presently Mile,

called all to breakfast.
Though leading a rough life ; sleeping at night on a

bed of boughs, and often with nothing but the heavens
over them, save that sometimes a rude wigwam was
hastily constructed by the men in times of storm for

the shelter of the females notwithstanding these con-
;
ditions and all the inconveniences of camp-life, the
party were not accustomed to surrendering all their

204 THE LIFE AND TIMES F
civilized habits; and leaving her sewing to be completed
at another time, Maude proceeded to make prepara-
tions for the meal.
From one of the knapsacks which were borne by the
men of the party, a clean cloth was taken and spread
upon the grass, and upon this the tin plates and dishes,
the delft cups for coffee, and the other necessary arti-
cles for a comfortable and not altogether a savage meal,

were soon neatly arranged then the tempting steaks
;
were placed before the hungry travelers, and with a cup

of coffee and the inevitable fried pork and corn-dodgers,
which were staple articles the corn-meal not having
yet been quite exhausted a quite palatable and suf-
ficient repast was obtained.

One day was like another in these particulars in the
present life of our friends, varied only as to the nature
of the food enjoyed by the variety furnished through

the and good luck of the hunters.
skill
Sometimes a wild turkey graced the board some- ;
times wild pigeons, of which large numbers were occa-
sionally met, furnished an agreeable substitute ;

and
occasionally these were exchanged for rabbits or squir-
rels, of which the woods were full ;
no wild animals but
deer had been seen by them since entering the woods,
but Indian John not infrequently warned them to be
on the look-out for catamounts and bears, which were
by no means uncommon in those parts.
The meal over, Rose devoted herself to cleansing and
gathering together the utensils and dishes, which were
placed on one side ready for future use. Maude re-
DANIEL BOONE. 205
turned to her sewing, and Hardeman and the guide

started into the woods for game. Rafe remained be-
hind with Mike to keep guard over the camp.
Rafe and Maude had long before this become great
friends. The peculiar nature of Judge Anderson's sec-
which a special characteristic was reticence,
retary, of
had expanded under the glow of a disposition so gentle
and tender, yet withal so earnest and forceful as Maude's.
Rafe had constituted himself her special guardian
during their peregrinations and especially at night, he
;
watched over her with a care and fidelity which would

have been remarkable in any man accustomed to ties
of relationship or friendship with many women. To

one like Rafe, who had hitherto had but little associa-
tion with the fair sex, rather avoiding women, it was

impressive that the least gallantry never
thought of
entered into his mind in connection with Maude yet ;
his devotion to hermight have been that of a lover, so

true and constant was it.
Often dead watches of the night, even when he
in the
was not on guard, Maude had awakened to see the

spectral figure of the secretarymarked against the sky,
as, leaning on his rifle, regardless of what other pro-
tector she might have, he kept watch over her with a

devotion that was sleepless and untiring.
Not an unaccustomed sound could occur, a move-
ment in the underbrush, or the fall of a tree in the
distance, but he was on the alert to assume his posi-

tion of guardian of the fair girl whom he had taken
into his charge.
Meanwhile their daily association had brought out
the salient points of the characters of both. With her
heart full of love for Harry Calvert, and her mind con-
stantly weaving new threads from her impres-

of life
sions of him, Maude naturally desired to converse most

on this congenial topic, yet her modesty was such as to
prevent her from introducing it.
But Rafe divined quite readily what subject would
most closely engage the thoughts of this
pure young
girl ; and, when opportunity offered,would frequently
occupy the time in recalling pleasant memories of the
absent lover.
During their journey to Granville County, and after-

ward on their return westward, Harry had manifested
a cheerfulness of disposition and character, with a skill
in conversation, which rendered him a most agreeable

companion.
There was nothing hidden beneath the Frank and
open exterior of the young man which need fear inves-
tigation on being brought to light and Rafe, with real
;
satisfaction, had learned to esteem and respect his com-
panion and friend for many qualities and virtues whicfc

did not at once appear on the surface.
Itwas now most agreeable to him to recall such im-
pressions, and to strengthen in the mind of the eager,
happy girl who listened to him, her own admiration for
her cousin. So that the conversation between the two

on this occasion, as was usually the case, had reference
to the one subject of interest to them both.
"
Rafe," said Maude, after the latter had occupied
DANIEL BOONE. 207
some time in relating incidents, not already told, con-

nected with their journeying together "
; Rafe, you
have described to me much of what my cousin said to
you, and of his general manner and conduct while with

you. Now, won't you tell me just what you think of
him ? I want to know how his character and tempera-

ment appear to an entirely unprejudiced person. Of
course, I have my own opinion," she added, archly, and
with a slight heightening of her color.
" But " '
you are," said Rafe, laughing, not an un-
'
prejudiced person.'
" "
Clearly not," replied the girl, since we are bound
together by ties of relationship."
" " and in return for
well
Very put," observed Rafe ;
your ingenuity, I will answer your question just as I
know it was meant.

" I did have a constant opportunity for forming an
intelligent idea of Harry's character and temperament,

and I may observe that while I would naturally have
studied these in your interest that is, in the interest
of both of you I had also other reasons, which were
no less important to my mind, to lead me to this
course."
Rafe paused, and Maude looked at him with some
surprise manifested in her countenance she said noth- ;
ing, however, and he continued :
" Your cousin is one of that kind of men who mature

late. From all I can gather, he has hitherto led a com-
paratively indolent, and, to some extent, purposeless

life ; but this has not been on account of any lack of
20 g THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
ty, or any fatal tendency toward constant idle,
ness, such as is the besetting sin of many of our young

men in the best circles in our largest cities.
" In Baltimore as I
it is
particularly the case, happen
to know from my own experience there ;
and Harry,
with his expectations and the circumstances surround-
ing him, might very readily have been

much more lazy
and useless than he really was.
" The however, that although he went gen-
fact is,
erally into society, and passed much of his

time in
amusing himself, he also conducted the affairs of his
plantation judiciously, and with a proper sense

of his
position as a man having the control and direction of
numerous instruments.
" have to concede that the time he passed at
I shall
Mount Mourne drew much from his employment in

that direction, and also that you yourself are respon-
'
'
sible for what captious critics would call idleness
during that period."
Maude flushed a little, and seemed about to speak,
but Rafe continued :
" am
I not a captious critic, and I can readily excuse
a young man for desiring to occupy as much of his time
as possible in such beautiful society."

" "
Now, Rafe," interrupted Maude, you know you
promised me long ago that you wouldn't pay me com-
pliments."
"
But, my dear young friend," he said, " that is no
compliment to you, but to your cousin."
" "
Oh ! she replied, laughing, " that puts another
DANIEL BOONS. 209
faceon the matter altogether, and I shall have to com-

'
"
pliment you on your ingenuity.'
" "
Now, being the case," continued Rafe, and
all this
admitting what I have just said in regard to his charac-

terand intelligence in managing his affairs, still one
would not look for the thoughtful manliness and deter-
mination which I have discerned in Harry Calvert.
"
You know our trip after Boone was conducted un-
der circumstances offering peculiar hardship to a young

man like him.
" In the first we started off in such haste that
place,
we were quite unprepared, never imagining our expedi-
tion was going to last nearly so long as it did.
" In the next
place, the work we had to do, and which
we accomplished, was entirely foreign to him as it was
to all of us, except by reason of what we might have
picked up or heard, or read concerning the mysteries
of woodcraft and detective business in general.
" You have never been told half of what we went
through during those months of search through the
woods, and by unfrequented roads, often not even see-
ing any person in a month's time.
" It was a splendid preparation for the undertaking
we have now begun, and as it has proved of good service
to me, so I am quite certain it has benefited your
cousin. was going to say was, that he dis-

But what I
played, all through, marked characteristics, which, being

unlocked for on my part, were all the more satisfactory
when found."
"
No amount of exposure or even danger could deter
2io THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
him from any course which seemed to him the most
right, and most direct to achieve
his purpose and he ;
displayed, moreover, a sunny geniality of temper, and
amiability of character, which are seldom met with in a
man ; and, if you will excuse me for saying it, still less
frequently in women."
" "
Oh ! Oh ! cried Maude, holding up both hands,
" how can you permit yourself to -be carried
away by
your flow of language and your desire to praise Harry,
to such an extent as to make an invidious comparison
"
of that sweeping character?
"
My
dear young lady, whatever else it was, it was
not sweeping ;
at least not in my mind. I venture to say
it to you, because I trust that your knowledge of yourself
must show you that you possess in a remarkable degree
the qualifications I name and which, I will say, I con-
;
sider to be the most beautiful that are given by a benef-

icent Providence to man or woman.
" It
would not be giving your intelligence due justice
to imagine that deny yourself the possession
you will
of these qualities. It would be equally hard upon you
to assume ignorance on your part of my capacity to
perceive their existence."

"
Well, you ought to be a preacher, or a lawyer, or
something else that requires the gift of a great many
words to tangle up one's ideas and impressions."
" "
Or a medicine man,'
'
put in Rafe.
"
Yes, or a
'
medicine man,' whatever that is. I know
I ought to scold you well for your caustic criticism of
the majority of my sex ; but really, after the redundancy
DANIEL BOONE. 211
of your argument, I have not the words or the courage

to attempt it."
"An omission in your own mental structure, or your
present capacity, for which I am profoundly grateful,"

said Rafe; "but to return,Harry is eminently amiable,
but at the same time, as we had opportunity for wit-
nessing during that fight with the Regulators, he has
remarkable courage, and stern determination when
these are required.
"
During our journey to Granville, and afterward on
our return together from Hillsborough to Boone's place,
Harry conversed very freely with me as to his views on

many subjects.
"While in regard to his own matters he showed a
clearness of vision and foresight that I would not have
anticipated, he was none the less thorough and accu-
rate in his views of public affairs.
" His determination to sell his and
property, strike
out in a new line, in a new

country, and secure for him-
self a life of which you should be the sharer this de- ;
termination was certainly courageous, and would seem

at the first glance almost foolhardy.
" It
required, also, no
degree of moral courage
little
on the part of both of you to proceed in a course

whose immediate was to be the bringing about of
result
a family convulsion and disruption which would deter

most men and women from such action.
"I know perfectly perhaps few better, the
well,
serious nature of these family and social disturbances.
In a general way, where it is
practicable, and where it
seems jn the line of right, they should be avoided, it
for no other reason than that always appears unfor-

it
tunate to make many persons suffer, in order to pro-

mote the happiness and well-being of a few."
Rafe's remarks had now assumed so grave a cast
that the young girl beside him listened eagerly and

very seriously to his words. She sat with her face
resting on her hand, and her own mind followed his
closely, while it unconsciously retrograded as well, and

she recalled the aspect of affairs which she had left be-
Mount Mourne.
hind her at
Many times her own conscience had upbraided her

for her share in the transactions of that eventful
day
which had seen the departure of all of them from her
home, leaving behind them a broken and saddened
household.
Arguments in favor of her course had not been want-

ing to her mind but they had resolved themselves into
;
that strongest argument of all, to the heart and mind

of a woman who loves : the wish and determination of
her lover.
As it now seemed that she was perhaps to be brought
into contact with reasoning from the stand-point of a
man's broader perception of right and wrong, she could
not but await anxiously the nature and character of the
logic thatwas to be used.

" It
seems hard and even cruel," continued Rafe,
from his remark, "that suffering of this nature
last
and for such a reason, should occur

yet is it not a ;
fact that this is the law of

nature, in its application, to
DANIEL BOONE. 213
all humanity? Do not the purposes of life appear to be

carried out with utter disregard of individual conditions
and feelings? Is it not nearly always the case that the
larger number suffer in order that the smaller number

shall be wiser and happier?"
" As
you have said to me," replied Maude, thought*
"
fully, it does seem so. Thus we find that wars are
carried on with the sacrifice of large numbers of people
and enormous amounts of wealth which means pov-
erty to still larger numbers and for the
promotion of
ideas, which, though they benefit the world in the end,
are long in doing so, and then, it may be, only benefit
a few."
" You exactly understand my proposition," said Rafe,
his face brightening as he perceived the quick intelli-
gence of the girl, and the fact that she had, herself,
views on these abstract questions.

" The
religions of the East, where I lived for several
years, and studied closely its customs and society :
these include the sacrifice of the individual in entire

obliviousness of that regard for life which we expe-
rience in Europe and in this country.
"
The Buddhist and Brahmin never reflects on family
ties foran instant, where those conflict with what he
esteems to be his duty in any instance. And this
course of conduct is not confined to the East. The
greatest works that have been performed by man have

occurred without consideration of such ties, or of any
obligations whatsoever, except the completion of the

labor in hand.
" Now I know that if formulated as a law
this,
would seem simply horrible to a Christian and civilized

would appear also almost in-
person of our time. It
congruous to draw upon such illustration, or series of

illustrations, to emphasize an instance, like your par-
ticular case.
" But am now
I thinking of the integrity and the
wisdom of my friend ;
and in sustaining these qualities
in him I feel that I have a right to draw my illustra-
tions, necessary, from the heavens above, from the

if
earth beneath, or from the waters under the earth to
bring them down to this case, or, rather, to raise the

latter up to its proper dignity.
" And what important results may grow
to signify
out of this seemingly cruel course, I will say this Sup- :
pose that Harry has formed his design, and carried it

out, after the manner I have mentioned, and which you
and I understand.
" We and by
will say that you are happily united
that I don't mean by your meeting each other, out here
in the wilderness, for that I consider is a foregone con-
clusion that you are united permanently, in such a
home as he purposes establishing.
" Your migration
will encourage others, whom, the
necessary hardships which you will encounter will not

deter, and the result will be, that a settlement will be
made, and this new and beautiful country through

which we are passing, will become in time populated.
" The settlement will grow into towns, and these will
flourish and increase in population and wealth and in-

DANIEL BOONE. 21 5
fluence, until they become cities. We know what has

occurred in a single century on this continent, and I am
greatly deceived if the next century will not make the
change toward advancement so much greater and more

comprehensive that it will entirely dwarf our present
surroundings."
The speaker, as he gazed into vacancy while uttering
his latest words, seemed wrapt in the contemplations
which had arisen in his mind. For the moment he
was silent ;
then he said, enthusiastically, rising at the
same moment, and extending his hand westward :
" Does not

good Bishop Berkeley say with almost the
vivid force of a prediction
" '
No pent-up Utica contract,* our powers,
' "
For the whole boundless continent is ours ?
At this moment a diversion occurred which was as
unexpected as it was startling.

While the two had been conversing, Mike Dooley
had amused himself, by cutting a rod and throwing an
impromptu fishing-line into the stream which flowed
past a little ways down in the valley.
Mademoiselle sat at some distance, under a tree,
reading.
Rose, after the manner of her kind, had flung herself
on her back in the sunshine, and was sleeping peace-
fully, and snoring not so much so.
To this latter maiden, there occurred, at this junct-

ure, an incident which, coming upon her in her som-
nolent condition, and being decidedly of a novel nature,
2l6 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
roused the young woman to immediate wakefulness, and
loud cries of fear and horror.
Something large and heavy, and evidently very much

alive, had projected itself from a tree which overhung
the place where she was reclining ;

her first intimation
of the intruder being a heavy blow upon the less vital
portion of her anatomy that is, her head which was
sufficiently powerful to turn her completely over, and
roll her sideways down the hill, on whose summit she
had been peacefully resting.

Startled by the screams which burst from the lips of
the negro girl, Maude sprang to her feet ;
while Mad-
emoiselle, gathering her drapery about her, rushed to

where Rafe and her young mistress were standing, as
to the safest spot, and proceeded to scream quite as
vociferously as Rose herself.
Mike Dooley, hearing the outcry, dropped his pole

and hurried up the
hill but on arriving at the scene of
;
excitement stood transfixed, and joined his voice to the

others after his own peculiar manner.
" "
Milly, murthers ! he yelled, " will you look at the
baste ? Shure it is the biggest tom-cat I iver saw in
me loif."
The "baste" in question, and at which all were now

gazing in manifest anxiety, to say the least, was un-
doubtedly an animal of the cat kind, but being about
four feet long, and evidently built for heavy work, was
no pleasant antagonist to encounter.
The two ladies were now clinging wildly to Rafe.
The animal, evidently quite as much surprised and
DANIEL BOONE. 217
startled asany one present, rested on its haunches,

and gazed from one to the other, uncertain whether to
attack or retreat.
was an enormous panther, and the first one,
It in its
wild state, that any of the party had ever seen.

Rafe's mind worked with considerable speed at this
juncture.
His rifle was a dozen paces behind him. To go for
it, was to leave the not to speak of

girls to their fate,
the others. He had no knife about him, and the axe
which he had used so actively a few hours earlier, he
had carelessly dropped by the side of the last tree he
had been cutting.
It did not take but a few seconds of time for these
reflections to pass through his brain, and then his mind
made itself up, and his body acted, executing the work
cut out for it.
He suddenly, but not roughly, threw the ladies from

him, and made a quick run to the fire, which was still
smouldering.
A
few good-sized logs were upon it and in an in- ;
stant he had grasped the cold end of one of these.

The next moment, he sprang right upon the panther
with the red and blazing end of the wood directed
toward it.
Rafe, with his strong and agile form, and his unex-
pected blow from a weapon, wielded so many feet away
from his shoulder, by reason of his long arm, must have
been a sufficiently inexplicable vision to the beast.
The immediate effect was, that the latter became so
10
2i8 LIFE AND TfAfES OF DANIEL BOONE.
terror-stricken as to neglect arranging for his safety
during the only moment when this would have been ol
any use.
The blazing branch came down upon him, full in the

face ;
and with a loud roar, he rolled over on his back,
and down the hill straight to where Mike was standing.
The gave a howl of fright, and turned to escape
latter
from the horrible animal but he was too late. The

;
revolving body of the panther struck his legs, over-

threw him, and the two rolled to the bottom of the
hill in confusion.
Rafe, at once perceiving what was about to happen,

had dropped his brand, and with a few quick steps
gained his rifle, which was fortunately loaded and ;
now hurried down the hill to the rescue of the Irish-
man, whom
he found at the bottom actually in the
clutches of the infuriated and panic-stricken animal.
Rafe's quick sight, nerve, and muscle were sufficient
for the occasion.
In a moment the loud crack of the rifle rang out,

and as the two girls reached the decline, they saw the
body of the panther writhing in the death agony ;
while Mike gathered himself together, none the worse

for his tussle, except for a few scratches, and that his
already ragged garments were rendered still more un-
sightly.
CHAPTER XIV.
The party of amateur explorers receives an unexpected addition to its numbers,
and Rose once more experiences a with a piece of paper, which is
collision
not without its own importance.
"
BEDAD, Misther Slaughter, you were just in the nick
o' time to save him."
" Save "
who, Mike ? said Rafe, looking astonished.
"
Why, the baste, the venimous reptile, the pussy-
cat and do you see the eyes b' him ?
!
Begorra, they
"
look like two wax candles at a wake !
"Yes, but, Mike," interrupted Rafe, "what do you

mean by saving him ? he doesn't look much as if he
was saved now "; and he touched the body of the pan-
ther with his foot.
" Arrah
Misther Rafe, don't you see ? I meant, you
!
saved him from being kilt intirely by meself hadn't I ;
just got him by the fur of him ? Wasn't I choking him

when you come in ? Be jabers ! in two minutes more
he'd been a dead cat."
Maude and Mile, had by this time been tempted by
their curiosity to overcome their fears and descend the
hill to look at the dead panther ; they heard Mike's last
remark, and Maude said :
"The cat, Mike? You must think it is a pretty
large cat."
"You're right, Miss, I do ;

I never seen bigger; and
its astonishing altogether ! Bedad, I seen a pussy-cat
before no\v, when it was frightened and mad like, swell
but
up its tail until it was as big as the whole of it ;
it
come down afterward to its natural size. But this cat
swelled up the whole of it to ten times the original
and begorra savin' your presence,

! it's that way still. I
don't ondersthand it."

All laughed at Mike's extraordinary idea of the trans-
formation of a tom-cat into a panther four feet long.
But it was hopeless to try and explain the matter so ;
afteradmiring the beautiful fur of the animal, they as-

cended to the top of the hill, leaving Mike to undertake
the duty of skinning and as he said he had often
it ;
skinned rabbits, and even cats, in his boyhood, he had

no diffidence about undertaking the present task.
As they reached the camp, the hunters came in hur-
riedly, asthough under some excitement. They had

no game with them which was explained, however, in
;
a few words.
"
We heard your rifle," said Hardeman,
"
and, think-
ing something might be wrong, we dropped what we
had shot, and ran in as fast as possible."
The panther episode was explained and then, while ;
Indian John went off to pick up the game, Hardeman
joined the others and went down to view Rafe's prize.

The whole story had to be related for Hardeman's
benefit ; and by that time John had returned, bringing
in two wild turkeys, a string of pigeons, and a brace of
rabbits.
DANIEL BOONE. 221
It was now past noon, and as all were very hungry

after the incidents of the morning, the ladies were soon
engaged preparing dinner; and while John relieved
in
Mike, who was making a rather poor job of skinning

the panther, the latter employed himself in picking the
birds.
Taking an opportunity when Maude and Mile, were

at some distance from them, Hardeman signified to
Rafe that he wished to speak to him privately.
" I want to tell "
you," he said, that about two miles
"
from here we struck a trail !
" " " not "

What was it ? said Rafe ; Indians, I hope ?
"While
that is possible," observed the other, "yet
John was very certain it was white men. There were

two of them and they wore moccasins. But something
in the weight of the tread, or something else that was
past my finding out, indicated to him that they were
certainly not Indians. He said he was sure of it."
" "
Which way were they going? asked Rafe.
" and they are already
Directly west ; past this
camp."
Rafe reflected a few moments. He was not aware
that any parties contemplated coming out after them,
and still it was not improbable that such might be the
case. The exploration fever had awakened a good
deal of interest on the frontier ;
and the fact of Boone
and so many other men having started out on an expe-

dition, evidently backed up by a direct purpose, had
stimulated a great deal of interest among the hardy
backwoodsmen.
Altogether Rafe was not seriously disturbed by the

incident. Indeed, he would have welcomed an addition
to their number, provided he could have been certain of
its character. Having ladies under his charge, how-
ever, he felt a deep sense of responsibility and know-
;
ing that the character of many of those who led a fron-
tier life was not of the best, he experienced some

doubts.
But there would be time enough to meet an annoy-
ance,if this should
prove to be one, when it made its
appearance.
It having been determined to remain where they
were during the following night, and to commence mov-
ing on their journey early the next morning, the after-
noon was passed in such pursuits as occurred to the
various members of the party; and nightfall found
them and ready for sleep.
tired
As has already been intimated, it was the custom of
the men to mount guard by turns during the night.

At this season the pleasant evenings were long, the
full moon rose shortly after twilight, and as Rafe had
the first watch, which would be until twelve o'clock,

the others were soon wrapped in slumber, and he alone
wide awake, in a position where he was himself in the
shadow, while his vision took in the scene of the entire
encampment. He sat at the foot of a tree, his rifle in
and
his hands, his pistol, hunting-knife, and tomahawk
in his belt, thoroughly prepared for any emergency.
He had thus sat many a night watching over those in
his care, and nothing had ever occurred to require any
DANIEL BOONE. 223
action on his part ;

but this night was not to pass after
the same manner.
was nearing midnight, and Rafe, a little chilled by
It
remaining long in the same position, was thinking of

rising to stretch his limbs, and at the same time replen
ish the fire, which they generally kept up all through
the night, as much for company, and to ward off the
wild animals, as for any purpose of warmth.
He had just formed this intention, when a slight noise,
underbrush by some heavy body in
like the crushing of
movement, attracted his attention, and he was at once

on the alert. The noise came from a point directly
facing him. His sleeping companions being more on

his right the two ladies and Rose hidden beneath an
;
impromptu wigwam, a few paces back of the fire.

Rafe cocked his rifle noiselessly, and listened with all
the attention possible.

In a few moments the sound was repeated, and as this
time it continued, he could readily perceive that it was
caused by the steady movement of somebody or some-
thing coming through the woods in his direction his ;
position was such that he knew he could not be possibly

discovered by any one emerging from the forest at that
point, and he therefore remained still.
The noise grew louder, though it was still faint enough

to show that whatever occasioned it was sufficiently in-
telligent to make it as slight as possible. This fact
made him must be occasioned by human

think that it
beings, and that impression was presently confirmed by

the distinct appearance of a tall dark figure moving
slowly and carefully ;

and this he saw in a moment wag
followed by another.
Immediately thereafter, both had left the thick woods,

and the forms of two men, dressed in the ordinary
hunter's garb, stood plainly out in the moonlight which
shone full upon them ; they remained perfectly still, and
Rafe saw one turn to the other and apparently whisper,
while he pointed toward the fire beside which could be
seen the recumbent figures of Hardeman and Mike,

who were lying close together near it.
Rafe did not hesitate longer, but springing to his

feet, and with his rifle at present, he stepped out in the
moonlight, at the same time crying loud enough for the

new-comers to hear, without awakening the sleepers :
"
Who is there ? Speak quick, or I fire."
The two men started simultaneously, and the first one,

"
holding up both hands, answered, Friends." As his
gesture was imitated by his companion, and both step-

ped forward to meet him, Rafe lowered his rifle a little
and started to approach nearer to them.
" "
Who are you, and what are you doing out here ?
"
We are out exploring the country," observed the
one whom he addressed, " and seeing the light of your
fire,and knowing that a party of whites were in the
woods about here somewhere, thought you might be the
one, and we would join you if you had no objections."
" If
your intentions are peaceful," said Rafe, " and my
companions have no objections, I have none ;
indeed
we should be rather glad to increase the
strength of our
party, provided we could find the right sort of men."
DANIEL BOONE. 22$
" we can satisfy you about that," said the one

Well,
who had not hitherto spoken, and who was the older of
" We come from Hillsborough way, and
the two. if
you are the ones we take you for, I guess you must
know some people that know us."
The sound of the conversation, which they had car-
ried on low tone, had by this time awakened Har-

in a
deman, and he arose to his feet and joined the group

as soon as he understood that strangers had appeared.
A few words of explanation followed. Hardeman

being well acquainted in Hillsborough, asked the new
arrivals to mention the names of persons whom they
knew, and the answers given being satisfactory to him,
and the two men seeming to be straightforward and
honest in their manner, their wish to join the others
was acceded to.
Both these men were well armed, and apparently

thoroughly supplied with ammunition and every neces-
sary for a prolonged excursion through the woods.
Each of them had a rifle, which they had let drop from
their hands and rested against their shoulders, while
they had lifted their arms to show their friendly inten-
tions to Rafe.
The colloquy being over, and Rafe and Hardeman
apparently satisfied, the two men remarked that, as they
were tired, they would lie down by the fire and sleep,
unless they were wanted to watch ;
this not being re-
quired of them, they proceeded to put their intentions

into force, and were presently, both of them, sound
asleep.
10*
The by this act did more
perfect confidence signified
to satisfy Rafe than anything they had said.
The two men had given their names as Brownell, be-
ing the elder, and Hunter, the younger person.
" Rafe to his com-
They seem honest enough," said
panion, after he had satisfied himself that the apparent

slumber was genuine.
" think there no doubt but they are the
Oh, yes ! I is
ordinary frontiersmen. The people they named are
respectable merchants in Hillsborough. To-morrow,

when we see them by daylight, we can judge better,
and anyhow they will bear watching, and will get it for
some little time yet."

" " there no
Yes, decidedly," said Rafe. Though Is
reason whatever why any one should care to molest us.
I do not mean to put trust in any one until I am satis-
fied as to his character."
Rafe now threw himself down for repose, while Harde-

man took his place to keep watch until four o'clock,
when he in turn would be relieved by the Indian guide.
This, which was the customary programme, was carried
out, and nothing further occurred out of the common
during the night.
Shortly after sunrise all were stirring, and those who
had slept through the incident of the new arrival, were
thoroughly surprised on finding when they awoke that
theircompany had become enlarged.
The two men looked fairly well by daylight, and as
they once set themselves to work, doing whatever
at
they could lay their hands to which would accommo-

DANIEL BOONE. 2 2?
date the party they had joined ;

and as they were re-
spectful and kindly in their manners toward the ladies,

all suspicion that still lurked in the minds of Rafe and
Hardeman gradually wore away.
After breakfast everything was packed up, and
preparations for moving went on rapidly. Brownell
and Hunter had been informed of the objects of the
expedition viz., to meet Daniel Boone, if practicable,
:
and discover if Harry Calvert had already joined him,

or, in default of that, to find the latter.
" It doesn't look like an
easy job to find a man in
this wilderness," said Brownell,. who had been listening

to the objects of the expedition as given by Rafe ;
" but it isn't half so hard as it seems. There is Squire

Boone, know he went out and met his brother and
I ;
just before we left he had got back home and started

out again with more ammunition. would have We
gone with him, if we had not got up to his place too
late ;
but we got a pretty clear idea of the trail he was
following, and I guess we can help you to go right to
where Boone had set up his cabin."
" "
How far do you think it is from here ? said Maude,
who was an attentive listener.
" I should think, judging from the distance we
Well,
have come, that it must be mor'n fifty miles. It's purty
well on to'rds the big river that the Injuns tell on, that
lies a little north of west from here. You see," he con-
"
tinued, I guess you have been working a little in the
wrong direction."
" "
How so ? asked Hardeman.
228 THK LIFE AND TIMES OF
"
Well, you kept along north from the gap, running
alongside of the foot of these mountains, when your
chance of striking your friend would have been better
if you had made it more westerly after you crossed the
range."
Hardeman looked at Rafe, who presently remarked :
" I
expect you are right about that
you ; see, all we
knew about Daniel Boone's movements was, that he
was to keep to the north-west after crossing the range,
and we had the impression that he crossed a great deal
further north than we did, but perhaps we were wrong."
" "
Well," said the other, you were wrong and you
were not wrong. The first trip he made out this way,
he did cross where you say that was about three years
;
ago but then he didn't go far west that time. Now,

;
he went through where I say, well south of that, at an

easy pass he discovered or heard-tell on, and that's the
one we come through. Squire Boone told about it
when he was home."

"
Then your advice would be," said Rafe, " that we
"
should strike off more to the west ?
" "
Well, yes," said the other ;you'll git there quicker.
There is a good-sized stream runs out here about four
or five miles south-west of this, and I think it's a fork
of the river I you about, and by keeping along that
told
you'll find easy travel, and be nearer to Boone's trail."

The advice seemed judicious, and Rafe, after a little
consultation with the others, concluded to follow it.
By nine o'clock they had got ready and made a start,
keeping more to the west, as Brownell had suggested,

DANIEL BOONE. 229
Both he and companion proved not only

his serviceable,
but good-natured and willing.
That day's journey passed without incident of im-
portance, and at dusk they encamped on the bank of
the stream, which they had found to be just where
Brownell had indicated.
He and his partner took turns, each with one of the
others, in watching during the night ;
and on the follow-
ing day they proceeded, apparently well satisfied with

all
each other and confident of success but on the third ;
day after their new companions had joined them, and

while they were engaged in taking their mid-day meal,
an incident occurred which reawakened the suspicions
that had perplexed Rafe's mind when these two first
joined them.
This incident was a curious one to happen under
such circumstances, and it occurred through the acci-
dental intervention of the girl Rose.
As they were all about beginning their meal, Brown-
ell threw the hunter's knapsack, or satchel, which he
wore strapped over his shoulders, on the ground under

a tree, a little way from where he sat down to eat.
As the satchel touched the ground a small piece of
paper fell and was carried by the wind some

out of it,
distance away toward the stream. Rose chanced to

notice it, and thinking it might be something of im-
portance, remembering also what a disturbance a piece

of paper had occasioned in her own life, she ran swiftly
after it.
The paper lodged in a bush right at the edge of the

water where Rafe happened to have gone to wash his

hands; and as the girl hurried down the bank and
seized he observed her action, which was entirely
it,
hidden from the party above.

" "
What have you got there, Rose ? he said, and he
extended his hand to receive it.
The gave
girl it to him, saying as she did so :
" It
fell out of dat Massa Brownell's bag, an' I seed
the wind kotch it and take it off, an* I run down the
bank to git it for him."
Rafe hardly heard her words, for, looking mechani-
cally at the paper, he was struck at seeing his own
name written upon it.
It was a scrap, apparently torn from a note-book, and

upon it, in a clear, bold, clerical hand, were written the
following words, as though it were a memorandum has-
tily inscribed, and handed to a person to remind him of

something :
" Rafe
Slaughter Harry Calvert (2). Seven years."
(i) ;
For a moment Rafe was stunned on seeing this ap-

parently meaningless writing ; recovering himself, and
observing that Rose still stood watching him curiously,
he said :
"
It's all right, Rose ; you needn't say anything about
it ;
it belongs to me, and must have got into his bag
when we were packing to start."
And while Rose ran lightly up the hill, Rafe walked
slowly after her, pondering the meaning of the extraor-
dinary revelation which had thus seemingly been cast
by the winds into his possession.
CHAPTER XV.
Which amateur exploring is not without its dangers as well as Its
signifies that
delights, and introduces the Reader to the noble red man, as he appeared
when oc the war-path in the year of grace 1771.
AFTER carefully reviewing the subject, and for reasons
which it is not at present necessary to state to the read-

er, Rafe concluded to keep his new discovery to him-
self.
It was not that he distrusted either Hardeman or any

of his other companions but on account of the com-
;
bination of circumstances in which he was interested,

and the carrying out of which might have been inter-
fered with by pursuing a different course.

The incident, however, assumed considerable promi-
nence in his mind, and the more he reflected upon it,
the less was he able to give any interpretation which

should be satisfactory to himself.
He was so little known in the Colonies, and seem-
ingly of so little importance, that he could not under,
stand why any one should take the trouble to attract
attention to him.
The mere fact of his name being mentioned in con-
nection with that of Harry Calvert, considering in whose

hands the paper had been found, was not in itself re-
markable. This might have been done in order to as-
(231)
2 J?2 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
sist backwoodsmen in finding his party. But this
the
view of the matter was not sufficient to explain it,
when the additional words "seven years" were taken
into consideration.
But circumstances now occurred which, for the time
being, drove further reflection on these incidents from
t
Rafe's mind.
That night the party camped on the bank of the
stream that they had been following, and which was in
reality a fork of what is now known as the Kentucky

River.
As they were getting deeper into the wilderness,
and approaching nearer to the hunting-grounds of the
Indians, Brownell advised that they should extinguish
their fire at night ; which was accordingly done, on the
occasion of which we are now speaking.
It happened that the turn to assume the first watch
came to Hardeman, and Rafe, being tired more than
usual, had thrown himself down early, to take his needed
repose.
Itwas a pleasant night, and the moon was shining
brightly, though occasionally obscured by masses of
white fleecy clouds that drifted past its face.
It was about two hours before was
midnight, and all
till in the
camp and about it, save the sound of the
heavy breathing of the sleepers, and the customary
noises of the frogs and tree-toads.
Hardeman was not as close a watcher as Rafe, and
he also chanced to be more than
usually fatigued after
the journey of the day, which had been a
long one.
DAJVIEL BOONE. 233
He sat leaning against a tree, with his rifle across his
lap. At length the stillness and his own feelings, com-

bined, overcame him with drowsiness ; and, though he
occasionally recovered himself, this became too strong
for his ability to resist it, and he slept profoundly.
A few moments had occurred, a quick ear
after this
might have detected a movement in the woods and ;
presently, and as it would have seemed to an observer,

almost by magic, so suddenly did it occur, the empty
space about the dead embers of the fire was occupied

by as
many as seven or eight intruders.
They were Indians ; strong, stalwart men, in the
prime of life, dressed after the Indian fashion, in buck-

skin hunting-shirts and breeches, with moccasins on
their feet, ornamented as to the most of their apparel
with beads and wampum, and with feathers in the fil-
letswhich bound their heads, and, in some instances,

blankets thrown across their shoulders.
Some of these men carried rifles, others bows and
arrows ;
and all of them were armed with the fearful
tomahawk.
By some fortunate chance, the accommodations foi
the sleeping of the female portion of Rafe's party had
been placed, on account of the position being eligible,
at a few rods distance from where the fire had been
built, and where they were hidden by a thin clump of
trees ;
so that the savages entering upon the scene
from the opposite direction, saw no one but the sleeping
figures of the men, as they lay about the fire in the little
open space which had been selected for the camp.

For a moment the Indians stood quiet where they
were, and gazed upon the sleepers. Then they conferred
hurriedly together, and speedily discerning the figure

of Hardeman and observing
in his position as guard,
that he was the only one whose arms were likely to be

of instant service, three of their number moved noise-
lessly to his side, as he sat in deep slumber leaning

against a tree.
His had dropped from his hands, and it was the
rifle
work of an instant to remove that from where it lay

across his lap.
In the meantime the others of the party had sepa-
rated, an apparently concerted signal, every one

and at
of the sleepers found himself suddenly awakened, and

in the grasp of one of the savages. There was a mo-
mentary struggle, confused and interrupted by the loud
cries of the suddenly-attacked white men, but the cir-
cumstances of the situation were too much against

them for successful resistance, very few mo-
and in a
ments all were prisoners, safely bound with thongs,

their hands being tied behind them.
The clouds had now dispersed from the heavens, and

the moon shone out brightly, disclosing to the captors
the faces and forms of each of themselves, as well as
those of the savages.
Looking about from one to another, Hardeman was

the first to miss one of their number. Turning his
head to Mike, who chanced to be next to him, he whis-
"
pered Where is Rafe Slaughter ? I don't see him
:
here."
DANIEL BOONE. 235
The other looked about from one to another, and

"
then said : I don't see him meself, he was lyin' right
beyant there," nodding his head in the direction he

"
signified, when I went to sleep. Begorra, he is as
cunning as a fox, and it might happen that he got

away with himself."
Inquiries made among the others soon showed that,
whatever might have become of Rafe Slaughter, he was
certainly not one of the prisoners.
The Indians having their captives safely tied, were
now collected together, evidently listening to one of
their number, who appeared to be in authority.
There were eight of them in all, and now, as they
stood, with their faces plainly disclosed, in the moon-

light, Brownell observed to Hardeman :
"
They are in their war-paint, and must be a small
party, from a larger number, out on the war-path."
A moment's inspection, to one familiar with savage
customs, would have shown that this judgment con-
cerning the nature of their expedition was a correct
one. Their faces, streaked with red and yellow
ochre, bore signs well known to those in the habit
of meeting with them that they were on the war-
path.
The discussion among them was finally concluded,
and apparently by some order from the chief, four of
the men dispersed in different directions, evidently in .
search of something.
"
They know there are women in the party," wh'
p
pered Hajdeman to Hunter, "and have gone y/

\
for them ; of course they can't fail to find them. God
"
help the poor girls !
Just then there was a loud cry, and two of the In-
dians returned from behind the clump of trees where
Maude, Mademoiselle, and Rose had been placed, and

joined the others. By their gesticulations and eager
manner, they showed that something unexpected had
occurred.
" Can it be "
possible that they have escaped ? said
Hardeman.
" Faix I'll that Mr. Rafe has heard them
!
go bail,
black divils, with their paint and feathers, and has gone
off and given warnin' to the young Missis."
" "
I guess the Irishman is right," said Brownell, but
I don't see how they could possibly get far without be-
ing caught."
Mike's idea was the correct one.
As we said in the beginning of the description of this
attack, a quick ear might have heard its preliminary

movement. Precisely such a quick ear was listening ;
for Rafe, however tired he might be, was so impressed

with the importance of his charge, that, as has been
already said, no movement or sound, not natural to the

situation, could possibly escape him.
He had heard the
first movement in the woods, but
thishad been followed so quickly by the appearance of

the Indians, that he had only time to exercise his re-
markable agility by dexterously rolling out of his posi-
tion on the ground, into the shade of the trees, where
he was fortunately hidden by a knoll.
DANIEL BOONE. 237
From this point, he crawled on

hands and knees,
his
with an atosence of noise which would have done honor

to any Indian of them all, and so succeeded in reaching
the place where the women lay sleeping

It took him but an instant to awaken Maude and
Mademoiselle, while Rose, who might have otherwise
made a disturbance, happened to awaken herself.
They all kept their wits about them ;

and the nature
of the position of things being explained to them in a
few whispered words, they followed Rafe down the bank

toward the river.
The stream at this point was narrow and shallow,
and Rafe's mind was made up in an instant, as to the
best course to pursue. He at once took his party into
the water, which was not more than a foot deep and
about twenty yards wide and carefully avoiding splash-
;
ing, succeeded in getting them safely across, and into

the woods on the other side.
Fortunately, when he had made his escape, he had

been wise enough, and dexterous enough, to seize his
rifle, which was near him, and carry it with him. His
other arms were still in his belt, as was his custom in
sleeping, that he might be ready when called to take

his share in the watch.
Precisely what he anticipated, in adopting the course

he had pursued, occurred.
The chief, on learning of the escape of the women,
sent out five of his party to search the bank of the
river and the neighboring woods, and endeavor to find

their trail. Rafe had expected this, however, and with
a shrewdness which did him credit, had made the women
step on stones for a considerable distance before enter-
ing the water, while he had himself made open tracks
into the woods an opposite direction.

in
This trail was easily found, in the moonlight, by the

Indians, but was of course speedily lost again ;
and
after hunting for an hour in every direction, they were
obliged to return, and report their ill-success.
The immediate result of this was to anger the chief
greatly, and he showed his disgust and annoyance by
his actions and gestures.
From this moment the white prisoners came to the
conclusion that the others had escaped, and at once it
was agreed upon among themselves, that they would

say nothing of Rafe, so that it should not be known
that there was a man absent from the party.
As they expected, the chief presently came forward,
and directing his looks toward Hardeman, evidently
ordered one of the other Indians to lift him from the
ground, from which it was difficult for him to rise on

account of his arms being bound. This was done, and
the white man and Indian stood facing each other.
"White squaw no here," said the chief, who had
picked up a little English, doubtless from the traders.
"
Where go to."" No got white man,"" Lost in
woods." "No eat, white squaw die." "You help

find white squaw, Injin no hurt, no help find, Injin
take white man, shoot." As the chief then made a sign
about his head with his forefinger signifying scalping,
Hardeman was not at a loss to know what he meant
DANIEL BOONS. 239
He had, however, determined not to disclose the act.

ual situation of his friends, and he accordingly set him-
self to answer the chief in the best way to avoid this.
A sudden thought occurred to him and he said :
" White squaw gone away down the river,

in canoe,
she go find her brother, and Not come back."

friends.
The chief understood him and looked at him sternly

for amoment, then he said, shaking his head :
" White man lie no good white squaw got no

canoe Injin find white squaw when the sun shine."
He turned on his heel, and Hardeman, taking the
movement to signify that the interview was over, seat-
ed himself on the ground again.
During the remainder of the night the Indians slept,
leaving two of their number to watch the prisoners,

who devoted themselves to taking the rest which
also
had been thus unexpectedly interrupted they soon ;
slept despite the alarming character of their situation,

and their ignorance of what might be their fate on the
morrow.
When they awoke the sun was up, and all but three
of the Indians were absent these were calmly inspect-
;
ing the contents of the travelers' knapsacks and bags,

and commenting upon the various prizes which these
disclosed.
After having satisfied themselves for the time being

with this amusement, they proceeded to get breakfast
for themselves ;
and while they were engaged in this
duty, the chief with the other savages returned, evi-
dently from an unsuccessful search for the runaways.

As the arms of the whites had been gathered together,
and were in possession of the Indians, the latter expe-
rienced apparently no fear or doubt as to the safety of
their captives, and after a time permitted Brownell, as-
sisted by Mike, to set about getting something to eat

for their companions ; untying them for that purpose,
but closely following and watching them in the mean-
time.
The meal was prepared, and eaten by the captives
with such equanimity as was possible under the circum-
stances.
When it was concluded and the they had

articles
used packed up and restored to their places in the com-
pact luggage of the party, the Indians signified that

they were to take up their line of march.
The sentiments of Thomas Hardeman when he dis-
covered that they were actually going away, leaving

Rafe and the others behind, it would be difficult to
sufficiently appreciate.
While he was happy that these had escaped their
own present and possible future fate, the sense of lone-
liness which came over the young man was almost too
much for him to bear.
Of course there could be no special sympathy be-
tween himself and the two who had so lately joined

their party. As to Mike, Hardeman felt that he also
would grieve greatly at the separation from his young
mistress and her companions which now promised to be
perpetuaL
Indeed a word spoken to Mike in regard to this,
DANIEL BOONE. 241
brought the warm-hearted Irishman's feelings to the

surface, and at once tears came into his eyes. He
wrung his hands when Hardeman told him they were
about to be carried into the woods by their captois.

"
Oh Begorra " he cried, "what will become of the
! !
young mistress, and '
Frenchy' and the Nager, Oh

blessed Virgin, that ever I should live to come to this.
Shure, Mr. Hardeman, can't we do somethin' ? Bedad,

there is only eight of them, and there is five of us ;
an'
if four white men and a dacent Injin isn't equal to eight

of them painted divils, what is the good of us, anyhow ? "
" That "
is all very fine, Mike," rejoined the other, but
you must remember that these men are well armed,

not only with their own weapons, but with ours."
" the divil get the best of them in the long run
May !
Shure the thaves of the world that they are, that would
stale awhite man's weapons, and lave him at a disad-
vantage ! Arrah !
you black-hearted varmints," he con-
"
tinued, shaking his fist at the group of Indians, give
me a shillalah and ten feet of clear ground, an' I would
make your brains rattle round in your heads like peas

in a pepper-box."
TheIndians who were thus apostrophized, saw very
clearly that Mike had worked himself into a passion,

and could easily imagine the occasion of it. His wild
gestures of anger amused them, and as nearly as it is

possible for a North American Indian to laugh, the)
laughed.
But the chief now signified the necessity for haste,
and the white prisoners being forced to load themselvei
ii
242 THE LIFE AND TIMES Of
with their own baggage, and that of the Indians as well,
excepting the arms, the start was made, the captives

being placed in the middle, with Indians in front and
behind.
They were hurried rapidly through the forest in the

same direction that their party had hitherto followed ;
that is, north-westward, along the bank of the stream.

Excepting a short pause at mid-day to take necessary
food, the march was continued with speed until sunset.
From the gestures of the chief, Brownell, who best un-
derstood them, learned that their immediate idea was
to regain a large body gone on
of their tribe which had
before them, and which they hoped to overtake on the
following day.
Foot-sore and miserable, the captives, when night
came, and preparations camp were made, after hur-
for
riedly eating the food that was given to them, laid down
wherever they were located and as the Indians them-
;
selves seemed not less fatigued, the camp was soon

wrapped in silence.
Two of the savages watched sitting by the fire, which

they kept going, each having his loaded rifle on his
arm.
Immediately about these were the other Indians,

whose guns and bows and arrows had been piled up in
a heap under a tree behind them. The white prisoners,
with their arms again tied behind them, were in one
group together, perhaps a dozen feet away from tfie
others.
So passed the early portion of the night.

DANIEL BOONS. 243
By midnight one of the Indian watchers was dozing ;
but the other, a young and active man, was on the alert,
sitting bolt upright, both hands on his rifle, his eyes
fixed on the fire, and his ears keen and watchful to hear
any sound that might signify danger.
But, though keen his vision and sharp his ear, the
Indian watcher was now to be matched with an intelli-
gence and acuteness far transcending his own.

It was a little past midnight, and the moon had nearly
gone down, leaving the camp, save for the still blazing
fire, in shadow, when a dark, lithe figure moved among
the trees with a silence and celerity which seemed
almost impossible.
The burning logs were between this figure and the
Indianwho watched.
Reaching the group of sleeping white men, a hand
was stretched out, and a sharp, bright knife gleamed in
the fire-light and quickly the thongs which bound the
;
hands of the sleepers were cut, and their arms were free.
Only one awakened during this procedure, and that was
Brownell,who had experience enough as a backwoods-
man not to make any sound.
He moved his head, to signify that he was awake,
and turning over, he saw the stern white face of Rafe
Slaughter, who, with one finger on his lip, pointed with
his other hand toward the spot where the arms of the
sleeping Indians were placed then he whispered in the
;
"
frontiersman's ear the single word, " Wait !
The figure glided away had appeared.

as silently as it
Brownell knew his companion to be as wise in wood-
V
244 THE LIFE AXD TIMES OF
craft as himself ;
and without hesitation or doubt as to
the result, placed his hand heavily on his shoulder.
The action awakened the other, who turned his face,
and seeing his companion with hands untied, recog-

his
nized that a change in their situation was impending,
and merely moved his own arms to discover their con

dition. Satisfied on recognizing his freedom, he re-
mained quietly waiting what should ensue.

What happened next was sufficiently startling.
Suddenly a small dark object flew through the air and
fell in the midst of the burning logs.
The Indian, surprised, leaped to his feet, but not in
time to insure even his own safety from what followed.
There was a terrific explosion, two or three dark fig-
ures could be seen flung upward, one of them at least
falling back into the midst of the scattered and blazing

logs, while wild yells of terror and dismay rang upon
the night.
With the cunning of his craft, Brownell had dis-
cerned the nature of the extraordinary occurrence, and

had succeeded, not only in himself and his immediate
companion rolling out of the way, but had drawn Harde-
man and Mike with him, while Indian John followed.
They were all uninjured, save by a few falling embers.
To spring to his feet,
rush through the blinding
moke to the tree where the arms were piled, was with
Brownell the work of an instant In this movement he
was instinctively followed by the others.
Now, as the smoke cleared, the sharp crack of a rifle
rang out upon the air, and the chief, who had gained
DANIEL BOONE. 24$
his feet,stunned by the explosion, but otherwise unin-

jured, threw up his arms and fell upon his face.
The other rifles were now in the hands of those who
knew well how to wield them. Two more shots brought
two of the savages to the ground. Of the remaining
ones of the party, two were so badly injured by the
burning logs that they were incapable of resistance.

Two others sought safety in flight but one of these ;
being pursued by Mike, with his rifle clubbed in his

hands, fell presently, stunned by a fearful blow from that
weapon. The other, though followed by a shot from
one of the Indians' rifles,which Hardeman had picked
up after discharging" his own, succeeded in escaping.
The whole transaction had not lasted over five min-
utes, and now the captives of so short a time before,
stood wonder-stricken at their own changed position,
gazing upon their deliverer.

" "
For God's sake, Rafe," exclaimed Hardeman, how
did you get here, and what magic have you used to
"
create such a revolution ?
Rafe grasped the hand that was extended toward
him by his friend, and shook it warmly.
" You might be " I
sure," he said, would not let you
be carried away, if there was a chance of saving you.
I left the girls safe on the other side of the stream, and
watched every movement that was made among you,
and followed your trail to this point."
" But what means did
you employ to produce such
"
a terrific explosion ?
"
Well, that was the result of a happy accident.
"Yesterday evening I was filling my powder-flask,

and I accidentally put the canister, containing more
than a pound of powder, into my pocket, where it had
remained.
" The idea occurred to me as I lay in the bushes over
there during the early part of the night, and chanced
to feel the canister where it was I thought I might
produce a little excitement by its use, and after cutting
the thongs that tied you all, I took off the cover of the
canisterand tossed the whole thing into the fire.
" The
result, I will admit, went beyond my expecta-
tions."
" who had been an earnest listener
Well," said Mike,
"
to this account, it takes a divil to catch a divil ; and,
bedad, I always thought there was some of the black
art in you, Mr. Rafe saving your prisence and, be-

gorra, now I knows it."
Rafe laughed, and slapped the Irishman on the

shoulder, as he said :
"
Well, Mike, whether it was the black art or not, I
was well seconded by all of you, and you in particular

did good work in bringing down that red rascal with
the butt of your gun."
There was no longer any desire for sleep experienced
by any of the party and the suggestion from Rafe
;
that they should immediately retrace their steps and
rejoin the women, was willingly acceded to by the

others.
" "
What you do with these wounded Indians
will ?
said Hardeman.
DANIEL BOONE. 247
" Let them "
lay there," observed Brownell ;
the
other fellow will come back as soon as he finds we are
gone, and they will be taken care of."

As
the guide confirmed this opinion, the articles be-
longing to them, including the arms of the Indians and

their ammunition, were speedily gathered together; and
in a very few moments the whole party started on their
return to the point where Maude and her companions
had been left.
They traveled and snatching a hasty mouth-

all night,
ful in the
morning, reached the scene of their former
camp by the following noon.

They then forded the river, and, guided by Rafe,
soon came up with the women, who had remained
where he had placed them, carefully secluded in the
midst of a pathless grove.
As they were little likely to be molested immedi-
ately, was determined to remain where they were for
it
that day and the following night, while they should

form their plans as to their future movements.
Maude and Mademoiselle were, as might be imag-
ined, delighted at the return of Rafe, and the knowl-
edge of his complete success in his dangerous and du-

bious attempt to rescue his captive companions.
The story of the midnight attack was listened to by
them with eager ears, and great was the praise which
was lavished on the secretary for the skill and cunning
as well as the audacity of his plan, and its mode of exe
cution.
CHAPTER XVI.
Wherein the Reader is present at an interview between two important person

ages, and witnesses a very impressive and eventful and conclusive scene ia
the life of one of them.
ON one of those autumnal days, certain of whose

events we have been chronicling, Stephen Roberts sat
in his dingy old office in the little house on the main
street of Hillsborough writing at his desk.
The time which had elapsed since we last presented

him to the reader, had not seemingly told hardly with
him ; although his iron-gray hair had turned a shade
paler, and there might, perchance, have been a few
more seams and lines in his pallid and impassive coun-
tenance.
It was in the afternoon, and although he was appar-
ently engaged in writing, an observer would have con-
cluded from his manner that his occupation did not
fully engross his mind ; frequently he paused in his

employment, not as one who reflects, observing what
he is doing, but rather like a man whose mind is busy
upon affairs foreign to his task.
There was the noise of a horse coming rapidly down
the street, and which ceased in front of Stephen Rob-
erts' door, and some one descended from the steed, its
(248)
DANIEL BOONE. 249
bridle being taken by a negro boy who chanced to be

at hand.
Then there was a sharp rap at the outer door, and

then that of Stephen Roberts' office was opened brisk-
ly, to admit the burly and dignified form of Colonel
Richard Anderson, Judge of the Superior Court of the

province of North Carolina.
As Roberts looked up to acquaint himself with the
personality of his visitor, a marked change came over

his face.
Accustomed as that was to concealing the impres-

sions of the mind which worked behind it, it was as
though a curtain had been let fall over the intelligence

which gleamed from the deep-sunken eyes of the Reg-
ulator, and rendered still more expressionless the mask
which he wore.
Stephen Roberts did not, however, forget the cus-
tomary courtesy of his demeanor ; rising to his feet,

and bowing profoundly before the majesty of that pro-
fession by which he purported to gain his living, he
invited Judge Anderson to take a chair, and the latter
having complied with the invitation, he resumed his

own.
As the Judge had made no further remark than the
usual formality of salutation, Roberts, after waiting a
moment, said : "You are an unexpected visitor,

Judge ;
I have not seen you for a long time, and I think never
before in my office. May I ask what business I can d J
for you, or inwhat way I can serve you ?"
The Judge, who was usually accustomed to display
ii*
rather a genial and even a jovial manner in his com-
munion with his fellows, now looked stern and preoo
cupied, and as though his mind was impressed with
"
weighty and not altogether agreeable matters. No,
Roberts," he said, "you never saw me in your office
before, and
I doubt if you may not possibly regret the
necessity which brings me here at present."

The other made no answer except a bow. Imper-
turbable and implacable, was plain that if this was to
it
be a combat of wits and of wisdom, he would be found

no mean antagonist.
" after another
Stephen Roberts," began the Judge,
"
slight pause, for some reason, unknown to me, you
have always hated me. I believe this has been under

a misunderstanding, both of my nature and my ac-
tions ;
but whatever course I might once have pursued,
had I deemed it
fitting, to change your opinion re-
garding me, the time is past when I could consistently

do so, and circumstances have occurred which render
a frank explanation between us necessary to my im-
mediate welfare, and your personal safety now and
hereafter."
For all appearance of effect upon the hearer, these
words might as well have been addressed to the dingy
marble bust of Lord Lyttleton, which was the only
ornament in the room, and appropriately surmounted
a case of la,v books
immediately behind Stephen Rob-
erts'desk; he did not, however, let the words pass
without comment.
"My safety, Judge Anderson?" he said inquiring-

DANIEL BOONE.
Iy ;
"I can not imagine how that can jiossibly be im
perilled."
" You "
will learn," responded the other, coldly, bo
fore our present interview is concluded. I trust that
your walls are of ordinary thickness, and that your

doors are not accustomed to eavesdroppers."
Roberts flushed a little at this, but said simply :
" You "

can speak as freely as you are now speaking
and this was evidently said with a double meaning
" no one but
myself will hear you."
" That is "
well," the responded Judge ; now I want
to ask you and I desire you to understand that for all
questions I do ask, I have a sure foundation in facts
known to me want to ask you why you organized

I
the conspiracy which resulted in the abduction and

"
confinement of Daniel Boone ?
" You are assuming a good deal," began Roberts
but he was interrupted, and the manner of his visitor
became more imposing, as though indeed he were
clothed in the judicial ermine, and preparing to sen-
tence a condemned malefactor.
" As Iyou a moment since, I assume nothing
told ;
and you possess the wisdom and judgment I have

if
always ascribed to you above most men of my acquaint-

ance, you will at once abandon all child's play, and take
this matter very seriously."
His words produced an astonishing effect upon his
hearer. So peculiar was the change of appearance and
demeanor which now came over Stephen Roberts that
one could only have likened this to the preparation of
a serpent about to strike, or a wild and vicious animal
standing at bay for the protection of its young.

" You are a man of
your word, Judge Anderson,
whatever else I may think of you and I am going tc
;
take you at it. I know that you would not have
sought me
personally for a conference of this character,
if the purpose you had in view could have been ef-
fected to your equal satisfaction through the ordinary
processes of the law. I am

going to speak frankly to
you, ven though the trust I impose be that of my
life itself.
" I did which you speak,
organize the expedition of
and which you might, perhaps, legally and appropri-
ately term a conspiracy though none of the other

actors in it are now living. My reason for instigating
and inaugurating it was briefly this To oppose you in :
carrying out an object which I knew to be near to your

heart, by delaying, at least, its conduct, through the
removal of an instrument absolutely essential to its
success."
A flash, as of surprise, passed over Judge Anderson's
face, as he heard this extraordinary explanation.
" To whatpurpose do you allude, and by what means
did you become acquainted with it?"
"
The purpose in question was one which you are
now conducting I presume to a successful conclusion
despite my efforts to prevent it it was and is,
;
by the
purchase of large tracts of land in the West, to estab-
lish new settlements, and draw from the population of
this Colony ;
and chiefly with the design of weakening,
DANIEL HOONE. 253
by such means, the organization of which I am proud

to say I am an active member."
Judge Anderson was surprised

If before, his looks
expressed amazement now.

" "
But, Mr. Roberts," he said, I can not understand
how you have reached such a complete misconception
of my purpose, nor how you have made it to assume
an attitude inimical to the Regulators, with whose
movement I know, of course, you are tied up body
and soul."
"
Judge Anderson, there is no sense in you and I
bandying words without meaning in this matter I am ;
asyou say, given up with all my power and ability,

such as they are, to the cause of the oppressed of this
Colony."
As the man and as he proceeded,
said these words,
his face became transfigured, and no one who gazed
upon it would for a moment have doubted the fanati-

cal belief and determination which actuated him.
" You are a Royalist official of high position and a
Judge on the bench in the pay of the Crown. To you

the condition of your fellow-creatures in the lower or-
ders of society, can be of no interest save as it be-
comes, from time to time, your duty to put them out

of their misery by sending them to the prison cell or
to execution."
"Great God!" cried the other, and he raised his
hands, astounded at this definition of his character and

nature.
Stephen Roberts paid no attention to the exclama-

"
tion, but went on. But this outbreak, Judge Ander
son, within the limits which confine it in this Colony
is a mere incident and a beginning, in its connection
with what is now progressing elsewhere throughout
these provinces, and which will finally, I tell you, cul-
minate in a revolution.
" he continued, and springing to his
Yes, sir," feet,
he paced the floor of his little office perhaps for the

first time in his life rising to a state of excited feeling
"
which was evidently genuine the people of these ;
Colonies have been loyal to the King of England until
loyalty is a crime already, as my correspondence tells

;
me, and yours ought to tell you, these people are

aroused to a determination toward resistance against
*
royalty, which will never end until they shall break off
the yoke which now burdens and confines them be-
yond the right of man or king to impose it.

"
And I was not wrong, Judge Anderson, but clearly
and certainly right in my judgment of this purpose of
yours that it was designed and is being carried out to
;
still further weaken and embarrass those whose inter-
ests I have at heart. And whatever may come to me,

Iwarrant you, that in the end you and those who with
you serve a tyrannical monarch and his creatures, shall

crushed to the earth by the determined and just
fall,
vengeance of an outraged people."

As he said these last words, Roberts returned to his
seat, into which he sank exhausted with the excitement
of his thoughts and his forcible declamation.
After the first few words which he had uttered, and

DANIEL BOONE. 255
to which the Judge had listened with an expression of

doubt and mystification in his face, the full sense of
them seemed to come to him at once his countenance ;
cleared, and he heard the remainder impassively, and

asone who now held the key to the situation. When
Roberts had ceased speaking, he said in a low tone,
and in a voice which expressed emotion :
"
Roberts, I have misjudged you. I had taken you
for a cold-blooded and murderous villain, and I per-
ceive that you are only a misguided fanatic. So far
are you from being correct in your views of me and of
my actions, that you have really opposed one who is at

heart the friend of the cause you advocate.
"
Now, I am going to put confidence in you, but I
do not wish to do it in a way to mislead you ;

I will
say at the outset, that, despite your opinion to the con-

trary, I have you completely in my power. How that
has come to be the case, I shall, perhaps, explain to
you before I leave you ; meanwhile, in justice to your-
self, I may add, that it is probable, after what you have
said, my now altered judgment concerning

and with
your motives, would place the same confidence in you,
I
even were the circumstances not as I have indicated.

" I agree with you fully in all you have asserted in re-
gard to the condition of the people of these Colonies ;
and my impressions and convictions are the same as

yours concerning the cruelties, exactions, and infamous
extortions which have been practiced on this people by
the King and his advisers. I also agree with you as to
the revolutionary condition now near to being precipi-
tated in consequence ; furthermore, my correspondence

which probably more extensive and more exact than
is
yours, places me in the possession of facts that more

than bear you out in your statement.
" And now I will give you the exact truth in regard
to my undertaking, and which is not known to any ex-
cept those concerned in it with me.

" It
is, looking forward to such a revolution as
in fact,
that of which you have spoken, to establish on the

lands which we'Contemplate purchasing, a new territory,
whose government shall be Republican and subject to
no King.
" So far has
this purpose progressed that the form of
government is already drawn up, and even the name

and political designation of the territory concluded
upon.
" The Republic of Transylvania exists to-day on
paper, and will exist a few years hence, de facto"
The Judge ceased speaking, and the effect of his decla-
mation was at once manifest and emphatic.
Rising, Stephen Roberts stepped forward and ex-

tended his hand. The other took it, though with man-
ifest unwillingness.
"
Judge, I said you was a man of your word, and I
trust what you have told me implicitly." Withdrawing

his hand, he passed it over his brow for a moment, and
as he sat down he staggered he was ; silent for an in-
stant, and when he spoke, it was in a voice husky and

shaken with strong feeling.
"Judge I have done you a great wrong but I

DANIEL BOONE. 257
have done myself a greater. Under the influence of

my error I have committed crimes myself and insti-
gated others Good God," he cried aloud, while the
perspiration ran down his cheeks " Even now, for
aught I know, still another crime is being added to the

category of those which I have occasioned, and for
which Inow suffer bitterly."

"
What do you mean?" asked the Judge earnestly.
" I
will tell you, before you leave ;
but now my mind
is shaken to bewilderment by many serious thoughts."
After a pause of some moments, he resumed " Judge, :
what did you mean by telling me you had me in your

"
power ?
"
Stephen Roberts, after what you have said, and
with the picture of remorse and feeling which you ex-
hibit before me, I can not find it in my heart to disclose
this horrible secret."
"Tell it, Judge, tell it," cried the other; and with his
head bowed over his desk upon his hands, " I half sus-
pect what it is, and would rather have it over now and
with you than bear further suspense and probably dis-
covery at last."
"Well, if you will have it," said the Judge, "I will
disclose it to you, but prepare yourself for a fearful

shock."
Drawing from an inner pocket of his coat a small

wallet he carefully abstracted from it a piece of paper ;
"
'
opening this he said On the 3 1st of December, 1768,

:
you visited the house in the woods where Daniel

Boone had been confined there you found the man-
;
gled remains of the men who had been your instru-
ments in his abduction ;

their dead bodies lay about
the floor in various positions, a horrible and memorable
signt."
Roberts had gradually removed his hands from before
his face, and was now looking straight at the Judge, and
listening eagerly ;
at the words " dead bodies," a sud-
den gleam, as almost of hope, lightened his face for a
single instant.
" "
But," continued the Judge, you found that two of
these wretched creatures were not yet dead ; and, so
help me God Stephen
!
Roberts," and rising, he pushed
his chair back,and stood sternly gazing on the cower-
ing wretch before him, while, raising his right hand in
the air, he continued: "Instead of -succoring those
two miserable victims of your blind error, you shot
them both to death and Stephen Roberts may God
;
have mercy on your soul " !
As he said these words the Judge strode to the win-

dow, and stood apparently looking out; but in fact,
vainly striving to conceal the emotion that shook his
rugged frame to the core.
There was dead silence in the room ; only a convul-
sive movement of the form which was now bowed in
agony, showed the powerful effort that the man was

making to repress the sobs which seemed ready to burst
from his tightly-closed lips.
Starting suddenly, Judge Anderson approached the

desk, where he stood confronting Roberts like an ac-
cusing angel.
DANIEL BOONE. 259
" " "
Why did you do it ? he cried. Why did you do
it ? an act so dastardly, so cruel, so unnecessary."
" " it was
No, not unnecessary," burst forth the other ;
everything else that was fiendish and horrible, I admit ;
but at the moment it seemed essential to the safety of
ny own life ;
not that I prized that for itself, for I did
not, nor do I now ;

far less now than ever, God knows ;
but for the cause in which I am engaged. But there is
one mine with which you have not charged me,

sin of
and of which perhaps you are not even aware at this

moment."
" "
And what is name ?
that, in heaven's
" It was
I, Judge Anderson, who burned your place ;
at least it was by my orders and under my personal

supervision that it was done.
" But to return. Those two men whom I murdered
for I admit it driven by an impulse which I could
not combat, but which does not seem to me to have
been the desire for self-preservation merely those two ;
men were my actual confederates and instruments in

the abduction of Boone ;
and that might in the end
have concluded in his destruction. Defeated in car-
rying out immediate purpose, and knowing that
my
these men had my life in their power, and were certain
o at least make it forever after a burden to me, and
render me useless to the great cause had espoused, it
I
came upon me like a flash of intuition that they must

be gotten rid of."
"
But supposing," said the Judge, " that your plot
had been successful and Boone had not been re-capt
2 6o THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
ured would you not have been equally in the power of
"
these men ?
" "
No," replied the other, because in that case, and
with Boone disposed of and he would either have
been transferred across the seas, or murdered we
would have all been in the same boat, and would have
had to sink or swim together.
"Mind you, Judge, I am not attempting to palliate
my conduct ;
that would not be possible. A lifetime
of remorse and expiation could never atone for what I
have done. I am only explaining to you, honestly and

truly, the reasons that actuated me.
" But
now, for God's sake, Judge Anderson, tell me
how it was possible for you to discover the truth as to
"
this act ?
The Judge still held the piece of paper which he had

drawn from his wallet unfolding it he extended it be-
;
tween his two hands before the eyes of Stephen Rob-

erts, who read upon it, while his eyeballs seemed start-
ing from their sockets at this message from the graves

of his victims, these words :
"
If our bodies are found with any signs of death upon
them but bruises and the effects of starvation, that in-
fernal blood-thirsty villain, Stephen Roberts, will have
killed us ; murdered us in a>ld blood.
"
WILLIAM BUTLER.
"
CHARLES CLEEVES."
"Those two men," said the Judge, sternly, as he re-

DANIEL BOONE. 2 6i
stored the paper to his wallet, " were found with a bul
let hole through each of their skulls."
With nerveless hands shaking in the air, and with his

face distorted with fear and horror, Stephen Roberts:
took into his mind this evidence of the sin that had
found him out at last.
The strain was too great for overwrought humanity

to bear.
As the Judge stood, heart-stricken, but powerless to
judgment on the criminal

avert the result of his fearful
before him, a power beyond and above all mortal judges
carried the sentence of the Divine law into effect.
There was a writhing movement, as the poor wretch
strove to rise erect. The head was raised, and the
mouth opened ;
but from
proceeded no sound.
it
Suddenly the face was surcharged and blackened with

a rush of blood from the broken heart a gurgling ;
sound was heard in the throat ;

and then with a sudden
gasp that was almost a shriek of mortal agony, the tall
frame of the man rose to its full height, swayed back-
ward and forward for an instant, and then fell prone
upon the floor.
Recovering himself at this unexpected and tragical
conclusion, Judge Anderson knelt by the side of what

had been Stephen Roberts, and turning the body over
placed his hands upon his heart blood was running
;
from his mouth, and no pulsation throbbed in answer

to the pressure of the Judge's hand the man was dead.
Rising, the Judge opened the door, and hurrying

through the house he called for assistance and tc ;
members of the family who appeared in answer to his

cries he stated that the lawyer had fallen in a fit of
apoplexy.
There were sorrowing and outcries and lamentations.
A physician was sent for, and the final decision was
given.
Stephen Roberts was dead.
Leaving the grief-stricken family, with such words of
commiseration as occurred to him, Judge Anderson
mounted his horse and rode to the tavern, where he
was to put up for the night and where he immediately
;
retired to his room, crushed and broken by the recol-

lection of the fearful scene of which he had been a wit-
ness.
CHAPTER XVII.
Judge Anderson works out a serious problem in abstract reasoning to a correct

conclusion, through an incorrect process.
DURING all that night, Judge Anderson remained in
his room at the tavern.
TJie excitement of the day had so affected him, that

though a man of strong nerve, and but little impressi-
ble by even the most grave and terrible contingencies
of which, in his official position, he necessarily met with

many there was yet something so appalling in the sud-
den prostration (seemingly by the hand of God) of this
man, steeped in crime, that he could not contemplate
the subject with equanimity.
In all his judicial experience, the Judge had never
met with a case of crimes of such magnitude, and in
such number, being committed under misapprehension,
and without personal interest or intention.
Knowing Stephen Roberts he did, he easily recog-
as
nized the fact that his consistent and profound interest

in the cause which he had at heart had rendered him a
fanatic, and incompetent to discern between right and
wrong in cases where that cause was concerned.

He perceived, also, that the terrible murder com-
mitted by him ot tne two unfortunate men in the log-
house in the WOOQS, was, as he had alleged, actuated

(263)
rather by the feeling that his life was valuable to the
Revolution which was impending, than from any per-
sonal regard for it.
The manner in which Judge Anderson had been

brought to a knowledge of this secret, seemingly bur-
ied with the dead, was as follows :
When the party which had gone out from Hillsbor-
ough to bury the remains of the victims of the tragedy

in the log-house had reached the fatal spot, one of their
number, in removing the skeletons to their burial-place,

had found beside the body of Butler the earthen pip-
kin which Roberts had used to give water to the two
men in their famishing condition. In this pipkin he
discovered the piece of paper which Judge Anderson
had shown to Roberts.
Being unable to read, and rightly concluding that
this paper might contain information of importance, he
had kept the discovery to himself, and the paper in his
possession, until he returned to Hillsborough, when he
gave it
Judge Anderson, who, on inquiry, learned
to
of the condition in which the two men had been found.
The Judge, although horrified at the contents of this

paper, had made no comment upon it, treating it as an
unimportant matter, but recommending the man who
gave it to him to say nothing about it an injunction
which had been strictly kept.
Judge Anderson had also, with a view to the prose-
cution of the matter at the
proper time, when measures
could be taken to effect this with the most certainty,
and with care that justice should be done, had up to
DANIEL BOONE. 265
this time made no public exposure of the knowledge
concerning the crime in his possession.

The death of Stephen Roberts was a severe blow to
the Regulators.
He was a man of profound ability and capacity for
organization, and seemingly formed for just such a pur-

pose as the inauguration and conduct of a plot like that
in which he had been engaged. And this was not the
only blow which the cause of the Regulators had suf-
fered in the year which we are now considering.
In the spring of that year Governor Tryon had com-
bined a large body of militia and volunteers, and on
May 1 5th he crossed the Great Alamance River with

a force one thousand strong, and fought a battle with
the Regulators, who were two thousand in number.
The were defeated, losing about twenty dead
latter
and several hundred wounded, while sixty-one of the

militia were either wounded or killed during the en-
gagement.
After this defeat, the leaders were tried and exe-
cuted, except such as managed to escape and fled from
the Colony. Stephen Roberts, however, had cov-

ered his tracks, and was a man of much importance
in the community, and one, moreover, against whom
there seemed to be no direct evidence sufficient to jus-
tify his indictment, and he had, up to the period of his
death, been permitted to go free from restraint, though

suspected and closely watched.
An inquest on his remains was held on the day fol
lowing his death, and at which, of course, Judge Ander.
12
266 THE LIFE AND TIMES OP
son was a prominent witness. The Judge's testimony
had been framed in his mind with a due sense of all the
grave interests involved. His evidence was simple, and

to the effect that, having been engaged in a bus ness
;
interview with the deceased, the latter had, during its
continuance, displayed considerable excitement of man-

ner, evincing a great deal of mental and physical dis-
turbance. Toward the close of the interview this condi-

tion had suddenly increased he had been overcome by
;
an apoplectic fit, and had fallen instantly and expired.

After the inquest and the funeral, Judge Anderson
returned to his seat at Granville, where his new man-
sion was now completed and suitably furnished, as he
had indicated to be his intention in his conversation
with Rafe and Harry more than two years before.

Here, in the seclusion of his study, he was able to
give a more clear and dispassionate consideration to the

substance of his interview with Roberts than had been
before possible.
In reviewing this, he was reminded that the Regula-
tor had intimated to him, in one of his sudden bursts
of passionate declaration, that one of his many crimes
was still in process of being carried out. But as to this,
;is will be remembered, he had deferred the
explanation,
and the opportunity for again considering it had been
lost by the catastrophe which ended in his death.
The Judge now bent his mind to an endeavor to dis-
cover, though without clue as he was, the nature and

meaning of this declaration, so far as it went, and of
the crime which it had intimated.
DANIEL BOONE. 267
Such a problem was one which would have sorely

taxed the ingenuity of the ablest lawyer or logician ;
but Judge Anderson's intellect was keen and acute,
sharpened by profound study and long practice in ana-

lyzing the acts and motives of men under different con-
ditions and though he approached the subject with
;
diffidence, in doubt of his own powers, he was not en-
tirelywithout a hope that the key to the enigma might
eventually be reached.
By reasoning backward, he concluded, in the first in-
stance, that this crime must have been in some way

connected with himself, or that it had reference to per-
sons or interests in which he was concerned, or Roberts
would not have alluded to it in conversation with him.
He drew this reasonable inference from the fact that
the murder of the two men, for instance, was not men-
tioned between them until he had himself alluded to it ;
that murder being a matter personal to Stephen Rob

erts, and having no connection with himself.
Thus reasoning, he had narrowed the circumference
of possibilities in regard to this crime to a limit within
which he could more readily handle it. He now pro-
ceeded to reduce this limit more, by bringing be-
still
fore his mind the names of persons connected with him-
self and in whom he was interested, who might have

possibly come in contact or conflict with Stephen Rob-
erts.
A very slight reviewal of this side of the question,
suggesting one name after the other, each in turn being

dismissed as impossible or improbable in that connee-
tion, presently brought to his mind the memory of an
interview held between Harry Calvert and Roberts in
regard to the abduction of Boone, and which had been

recounted to him by Calvert himself, during/the rela-
tion of the expedition for Boone's recapture.
This interview, in itself, had only illustrated the char
acter of Roberts, his skill of fence, and his determina-

tion to keep secret his connection with Boone's capture
and imprisonment.
In striving to connect with this all the circumstances
surrounding it, with a view to bringing these occur-

rences closer home to himself, the Judge was reminded
of the fact that Calvert at that time had been accom-
panied to Hiljsborough by the others of his party, in-
cluding Rafe Slaughter. These he knew had been left
behind at the tavern, while Calvert and Mike had pro-
ceeded, each in his several attempt at obtaining informa-
tion concerning the object of their quest.
While cogitating on all these personages and inci-

dents, his mind naturally reverted incidentally to the
object of Calvert's journey to Baltimore. This, also,

caused him to on the disinheritance of the young
reflect
man and the nature of the will, with whose purport he

had been made acquainted.
Unconsciously, almost, he found himself drifting into
a Legal analysis of the provisions of that instrument.
The strange and unexpected course of the old uncle in
disinheriting his favorite nephew, and disposing of the

bulk of his estate in the direction of one whom he had
never esteemed, and whose reputation was unsavory
DANIEL BOONE. 269
this, with the proviso, that if, after seven years, the legal
heir should not have appeared, the property was to re-
vert to the one who, in all ought to have it.

justice,
All of this did not fail to interest and puzzle the mind
of the lawyer and judge when he first heard it.

Why the whole question should re-form itself in his
mind at this juncture, when he so fully desired to oc-
cupy it with other thoughts, disturbed and surprised

him. It was one of those strange psychological move-
ments that sometimes occur, by a natural order of
things, in answer to a positive law of analogies, though

in defiance of our preconceived intention and even of
our will.
The Judge was deep thinker, and accustomed to

a
view the characteristics of mental movement with great
respect. In the present instance he could not but think

that there was something in this connection in his mind,
of matters apparently foreign to the question he had
in hand, that must import something suggestive, if he
could only discover Suddenly, as if by a flash of
it.
intuition, a key was given to him.

The Judge was well aware of the fact that Stephen
Roberts, who knew everything that happened in his
own town and neighborhood, not only almost instinct-
ively, but from the fact that he had always emissaries

about to keep him informed, must have known of the
presence of Calvert's^companions at the tavern.
He had met
Rafe Slaughter, and knew him to be at-
tached to Judge Anderson's household as the latter's
confidential secretary and agent. With his conceded
hatred of the Judge, he would naturally be inimical
to any one closely connected with him, and would
not hesitate to do injury to the Judge through his
agent.
Besides, Roberts would readily understand that what-
ever direction was to be given to Boone in regard to his
expedition, would be given through Rafe Slaughter,

acting for the Judge, and sent out to join Boone un-
doubtedly for that purpose.
The success of Harry and his companions in discov-
ering Boone's place of confinement and releasing him ;
the after-prosecution of the enterprise as originally in-
tended, by all the parties who had originated it all of
this, he was aware, was well known to Stephen Roberts.
The fact that the parties had moved separately, ow-

ing to the accidental delay of Rafe and Harry, was not
known to Roberts, so far as he was aware. He had
himself been informed of it by a letter which Rafe had
sent to him shortly before Harry Calvert had started

into the woods on the track of Boone.
All of these facts passed rapidly through his mind,
and the Judge jumped to the conclusion that the fresh
crime which Stephen Roberts had instigated and prob-
ably set in motion, was nothing less than the destruc-

tion of Rafe Slaughter ; or, at least, the gaining posses-
sion of whatever valuable papers he might carry about

him having relation to the settlement and organization
of the country of Transylvania.
It willbe observed by the reader that Judge Ander.

son had by this time lost sight of the impression which
DANIEL BOONE. 27 1
had so strongly affected him, that Harry Calvert's for-
tunes were in some way mixed up with this crime.

A more natural conclusion, that the occasion of such
action on the part of Stephen Roberts would be his per-
sonal enmity to Judge Anderson, had driven out an idea,
which, if it had been more

carefully adhered to and
scrutinized, would have brought about a more correct
solution. Although the after-results proved to be the
same, the real facts in the case were more complicated ;
as will be seen when the nature of the conflicting mo-

tives which had actuated Stephen Roberts in his course
shall be made known to the reader, as they afterward
were to Judge Anderson.
At present it is not necessary, and would be subver-
sive of one of the designs in the plot of this narrative,
to relate them and besides which, as has been sug-
;
gested, there were apparently two roads out of the

difficulty, and Judge Anderson had fortunately chosen
one of them.
The conclusion which he had reached assumed at
once to the Judge the force of an actuating motive.
He conceived that his secretary and friend was in
danger from the vengeance which reached out to take

his life even after the instigator of the act had passed
away to render his own account for much wrong-doing.
While he was aware, that even now he might be too
late, the Judge was not a man to let that possibility
interfere with what he clearly saw to be his duty. He

determined at once to set forth in search of Rafe
Slaughter and supposing that the

;
latter had succeeded
2/2 EtFE AND TTMES OF DANTEL BOONE.
by this time in joining Bonne, he desired, moreover, to
expedite the prime objects of the expedition by his

own personal presence and intervention.
The Judge set about this matter at once, by commu-
nicating with the Governor of the Province, informing
him that important business would require his absence
from probably for several months. Having

his seat
made this formal announcement, he required no per-

mission to leave his official duties for the time required ;
since these he could readily depute to another.

The Judge now proceeded in his preparations, and
in a few days had set forth from his seat properly
accompanied, and provided for all possible exigencies

of the undertaking.
CHAPTER XVIII.
In which the hapless condition of Squire and Lady O'Brien offers a lesson of
charity and patience and the Squire, himself, concludes that he is being
;
involved in the meshes of a network of mystery.
WE will return now for a brief space to the family at
Mount Mourne, which had been so seriously reduced
by the defection of the party whom we left in the wilds

of Kentucky.
The mental condition of the Squire and his Lady
after the departure of Maude, was for a time pitiable
to witness. As we have said, the guests who had been

present at the Christmas festivities described in a pre-
vious chapter, had all taken their departure, leaving
the family reduced to these two and their little son ;
and the great house was comparatively empty.

This condition continued during the following win-
ter, and the deserted couple had ample time for reflec-
tion on the result of their severity ; and, as may be

supposed, such reflection was not calculated to restore
them to anything like equanimity of mind or placidity
of temper. For a time the brought about a cool-
affair
ness between the Squire and Lady O'Brien but this ;
could hardly be of long duration. Her Ladyship was

too shrewd a woman, and had too long managed and
12* (273)
controlled her husband, to permit any matter, howevei
permanently alienate him.

serious, to
After the first few days, and the excitement of the
sudden and unexpected change of affairs, these two
conferred very, little concerning them. It was tacitly
admitted between them that they were both immedi-

ately tp blame ;
and as but little, if any, advantage
could result to either from recrimination, they soon

fell into their customary attitude with regard to each
other.
The Squire, however, felt the loss of Maude far more

deeply than did his wife. He loved Maude devotedly,
and with a tenderness that only a father can feel toward
a daughter. For it is a fact, that however much affec-
tion a mother may experience for a girl child who is
born to her, whom she educates and trains under her
own eye, who recalls to her mind her own childhood
and girlhood yet there is, always, as the daughter
advances in years, a feeling of antagonism in the mind
of her mother : a jealousy of her years and her grow-
ing charms which goes far to do away with maternal

affection.
As the reader will have easily concluded in consider-
ing the attitude assumed by Lady O'Brien toward her

daughter, as described to some slight extent in the
course of this story, there had been but very little con-
sideration shown to the latter.
Maude had bloomed into womanhood, with a degree
of beauty and intelligence which made her a favorite
with all those who visited at her father's house. This
BOONE. 275
factwas not calculated to improve her position in the

mind and regard of her mother.
Lady O'Brien was a woman possessed of decided
self-esteem, which had been fostered in her younger
days by the attentions which she had received in the

best circles of Europe. She was now
in the prime of
very handsome, being stately

life, still and imposing in
her manner and carriage, and it was not surprising that
a tinge of jealousy should have entered into her con-
duct in regard to one who actually assumed, though
not with design, a position in society which might be
considered in rivalry with her own.
Andalthough Maude was of a sweet and gentle dK
position, and rarely came into collision with anybody,
it could hardly be expected that her relations to Lady
O'Brien should not have reacted upon her regard for

her mother, and to some extent upon her conduct. It
will certainly be conceded that these relations might
well have exercised some influence, in actuating the
girl to take the important step which she had done.
Having taken this step, Lady O'Brien, while missing

her, and in some ways regretting the difference between
them, soon experienced a feeling of relief ;

while her
pride prevented her from showing even the little senti-
ment of remorseand sorrow which oppressed her.
But with the Squire it was quite different ;

his feel-
ing for the girl, of whom he had always made a pet, and
in later years a companion, would not permit him to
forget her even for a moment. The loss of her sunny
presence threw a gloom about him tha* he felt bitterly
Gradually as the months passed by he seemed to

visibly grow older, and a care-worn expression came
over his genial countenance. He devoted himself more
than ever to the duties of his estate, and although Lady
O'Brien, early in the spring, insisted on extending invi-
tations, and receiving and entertaining guests through

the summer, when this part of North Carolina was
pleasanter than other sections, the Squire interested
himself but very little in her plans, and appeared but
seldom among those who visited them.
An exception was made by him, however, in the case

of the good rector, Dr. Bullock who was frequently at
:
the great house, and between whom and the Squire

there was a closer acquaintance, and even friendship,
than the latter permitted with any other.
The first year passed away without any incident of
importance marking the domestic life at Mount Mourne.
The absent one was now seldom mentioned between
the Squire and his wife.
Through Thomas Hardeman's family, word then

came of the interference, by accident, with the original
plans of Rafe Slaughter and Harry Calvert ;
of the de-
parture of the latter without his friends to follow the

trail of Boone ;
and after this there was a long silence.
Then the news reached them in the summer of 1771

that the remrander of the party had gone out with a
guide to endeavor to find both Boone and Harry and ;
this seemingly reckless and even foolish action on the
part of Maude and Mademoiselle Raimonde, brought the

whole subject once more before the Squire and his wife
DANIEL BOONS. 277
The latter could hardly find words sufficiently strong

to effectually characterize her daughter's boldr-'ss in
venturing upon such a procedure as she had under-

taken.
" The "
audacity of the girl ! she cried, in one of their
" to think that
one apparently so mod-
conversations ;
est as she, and brought up under the wholesome re-
straint and discipline of a respectable family, should go
offwith two young men tramping through the woods,

with the admitted purpose of hunting up her lover !
If it had been her husband, it would be bad enough ;
putting aside the danger, whichneverybody who knows

anything about it says is extreme, not alone from In-
dians, but from wild beasts ami reptiles as well putting
that out of the question, the inr. ;odesty of such conduct
in my daughter is something th; 1
' I can not understand."
The emphasis which Lady O'i:t; jn put upon the pro-
noun my, showed very clearly 1.
Ladyship would
not have been surprised at any >f the nature she
described in anybody else's das^ it felt a right to
be astounded that her ins' her direction
should have so soon and so thoi -^Sv ost i ts influence
in the present instance.

" :u ^V
But, my dear," the Squire ?d to remark,
" of putting the case a s-
your way li
.ggerates it."
" "
How so ?
" in the first place, she did not with two

Why, go off
young men, for Rafe Slaughter is old enough to be her

father. I am sure I would trust her with him any-
where, if
only on account of the credentials he brought
from my friend Dick Anderson ;

and as for Thomas
Hardeman, they have been playmates from childhood,
and I would as soon think wrong of her for going off
with her own brother, if she had been so fortunate as
to be blessed with one old enough, as I would with
him.
" And "
again," he continued, you allude to this ex-
pedition as if Maude went off unaccompanied by any

female ;
the fact being, as you well know, that Mademoi-
selle Raimonde is with her, who has had charge of her
from infancy and that Rose is there, to afford such
;
practical comfort as an experienced and attached serv-

ant could give under such circumstances."
" Mademoiselle
Raimonde," observed her Ladyship,
" And
always struck me as a woman of sense.
although
I know very well that she had a romantic phase in her
character, which probably only wanted an opportunity

for development, I never did think that she would assist
in such a wild escapade as this. It sounds like the ab-
surdities one sometimes hears of in a French boarding-

school, but which never, however, come to anything
~
but talk.
" But V
I am si/ iised that you,
< who profess to love
Maude so muc/ more than I do, can calmly contem
plate such a sT ition as this in which she has placed
** /'
herself. Why, ever since I heard of it I can hardly

sleep ; my dreams are all of Indians, bears, and snakes.
Often awake with a cold perspiration pouring off me,
I
imagining and almost seeing her pursued by those

frightful savages,"
DANIEL BOONE. 279
The Squire answered nothing to this. In truth, his

own case was very much like that described, but proba-
bly never experienced by Lady O'Brien. The fact be-
ing that the possible fate of his daughter at the hands
of the savage tribes, which he very well knew infested
the country she was in, was a feature of the whole affaii
that never him, and cost him many moments ol

left
bitter anguish and regret.
The Squire found his greatest comfort in conversa-

tions with the rector.
Dr. Bullock was a man who had long been on the
frontier, and who had often, to some extent, ministered
among the Indian tribes themselves, in places remote
from the white settlements. He was familiar with their
habits and their modes of thought.
At thistime the old bitterness and exasperation
against the whites, which had so often driven the In-

dians to commit terrible enormities, had in a consider-
able measure died away, and, meanwhile, its renewal,

so far as the Colonists were concerned, and which oc-
curred a few years later under the instigation of British
agents, had not yet begun to exist. It had, indeed,
been a long time since any serious difficulties had oc-

curred between the two races, particularly in the prov-
ince of North Carolina and its borders.
"
Except when the Indians are actually at war with
the whites," said Dr. Bullock, one day when the two
were discussing this question, " and unless some specific
offence has been committed against them, they are not
inclined to proceed to extremities even with their cap
2 8o THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
tives. It is not as it was one hundred years ago, when
their first thought was of murder and outrage. The In-
dians have found that they can get on much better,
and improve their own condition more decidedly, by
keeping on passably good terms with the whites, than
by antagonizing them.
" Our traders, as you know, Squire, especially the
Scotch, have penetrated the southwest clear to New

Orleans, buying peltries and exchanging them in the
settlements for fire-arms, ammunition, and, I regret to
say,
'
fire-water.' This sort of association has awakened
the most savage tribes to an understanding that they
can best obtain what they most need, by keeping on
good terms with those who could provide them.

" It is a
very long time since you and I have heard of
any outrages committed by Indians, except on each

other and my own impression is, that even if some of
;
them who areon the war-path should capture our

friends, it would only be with the design and result of
claiming a suitable compensation for their release.
"
Besides, as I understand it,they have a good guide,
a peaceable Indian ;
and as he will be well paid, he will
use all his skill to carry them safely through. Then,
of course, they must ultimately find Boone and his
companions and Harry Calvert. A party so large as

they would then become, would, I suspect, be secure
against any ordinary attack."
" What
you say is very consoling," observed the
" and I do not see but what it is reasonable.
Squire,
At all events, it can not now be many weeks before we
DANIEL BOONE. 28 1
shall hear from them, as I understand Boone's brother,
having succeeded in overtaking him, returned to obtain

ammunition and other things which he required, and
has again gone out in search of him. What he could
venture to do alone, and could succeed in doing, it doeg
seem to me as our friends might also accomplish."
if
The conversation which we have related took place
early in the Fall of 1771, while the two were riding

about the estate ;
the Squire giving directions to his
hands, from time to time, as he met them, and gener-

ally overlooking the crops and the progress of his farm-
ing operations.
Having concluded what was necessary in this direc-
two gentlemen turned, and di-
tion for the day, the
rected their horses' steps toward the house, slowly am-
bling along, and continuing to speak on the subject

which was uppermost in the minds of both of them.
They had crossed the bridge and entered the drive,
when their attention became directed toward a move-
ment on the piazza, which seemed to signify the arrival
of strangers. Lady O'Brien could be seen, with several
of the persons who were visiting her standing about,
she being apparently engaged in conversation with a
poorly-dressed woman who was seated on the piazza.
steps, and had by her side a young boy.

As the Squire and Dr. Bullock rode up to the piazza,
her Ladyship called out to her husband :
" am
I glad you have come something has occurred
;
about which I want to consult you."

The two gentlemen dismounted, and their horses
2g2 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
being led around to the stable by one of the boys

about the place, both drew near to the group on the
piazza. The woman rose from her sitting posture and
bowed to the gentlemen, and Lady O'Brien, who held
what appeared to be a letter in her hand, said :
" This
woman's name is Brovvnell, and this is her son.
She has traveled fifteen miles to-day on foot to bring
this letter, which has been sent from Hillsborough, and
is addressed to her husband. It appears from what she
says, that her husband set out recently, with the inten-
tion of going into the woods, and announcing that he
meant to find Daniel Boone and his companions, and
join them in their exploration, about which he had

heard down in Hillsborough. Having understood that
some of our friends were with Boone's party, although
"
in that she is mistaken
" Not necessarily so," interrupted the Squire.
Lady O'Brien paid no attention to this remark, but
went on :
" She has come here to endeavor to learn by what

means this letter, which is marked important,' and in
' '
haste,' could be fonvarded to her husband. I presume

you will like to talk to her, and I will turn her over to
your hands."
Accordingly, Lady O'Brien gave the letter in ques-
tion to the Squire, and turning on her heels, dropped
the subject, and joined her guests, a little piqued at
the dissent which her husband had expressed from her
doubt with regard to the possible union of DanieJ
Boone and the party in search of him.
DANIEL BOONE. 283
The Squire, as was natural to him, first devoted him-

self to the consideration of the probable condition of
Mrs. Brownell, after her long and wearisome journey.
"You must be tired and hungry," he said to her,
" I will have one of the maids take
kindly. you around
to the kitchen, where you can get something to eat,
and can rest yourself ;
and after you feel thoroughly re-
cruited, send word to me, and I will be glad to see you.

In the meantime, I will take charge of this letter."
The woman expressed her thanks, and the Squire,
calling one of the negro girls, sent her with her son to
be taken care of by the butler.
The Squire now proceeded to his chamber to dress
for dinner; having concluded which, he went to the
library, where he was presently informed by the serv-
ant that Mrs. Brownell had eaten a substantial meal,
and was now and ready to await his pleasure.
rested,
He accordingly sent for her, and on her entering the
library, courteously offered her a seat.
"
This letter is from Hillsborough, you say," he ob-
served, lifting it from the table before him, and look-
ing at the superscription.
"
Yes, sir, and I think I know who it is from."
" That is none of my business," began the Squire,
but he was interrupted by the woman, who proceeded.
" It is no secret, sir. I am quite sure the letter is
from Stephen Roberts, a lawyer in Hillsborough, that

my husband has had a great deal to do with in the
last two or three years more, indeed, than I think
has been good for him."
284 THE LIFE AND TmES OF
" I have heard of this Stephen Roberts," observed
" he
the Squire ;
is suspected of being one of an organi-
zation called Regulators, I believe but so far as I ;
know this has never been proved, and he bears the rep-
utation of being a man of ability, with nothing partic-
ular against him."

" He has but as to there being
got ability enough ;
nothing agin him, I ain't so sure anyhow, he has got

;
my husband under his thumb, so that the man has neg-

lected his farm, and
left us to pull along the best way
we can, andhard enough, I assure you, while he is

it is
goin' over the country doin' the biddin' of this Stephen

Roberts. I never saw the man, but I don't like him
any the better for that."

" " I am
Well," said the Squire, sorry that you have
reason to think he has been the cause of any injury to
you though as I don't know your husband,

;
I can't tell
whether he can not be to blame himself."

"That is all right, Squire; William never was much
of a farmer, but he was a good-hearted man, and work-
ed around pretty well until he got in with them Regu-
lators and this man Roberts. Since then he has been
good for little or nothin'. He gets money, though what

for, I don't know, and don't care to know ;
it is for no
good, I will wager ; but there is very little sight of his
money me and his children gets. He spends the most
of it where he gets it, down in Hillsborough, drinking
and carousing at the tavern with them Regulators ;
who might better regulate themselves, than try to set

the world straight."
DANIEL BOONE. 285
"Very well, my good woman," Said the Squire, as a
pause her voluble speech gave him an opportunity,

in
" "
in what way can I serve you at present ?
"Well, sir, you see William has had letters from

Stephen Roberts before, and I know he is awful partic-
ular about them, and generally they tell him to start off
on some expedition or other. I don't vally Stephen

Roberts' orders a pin's worth, but if my William should
miss gettin' one of them he would be rearing mad, and
he ain't altogether a comfortable man to get along with
when he is in that condition. So when I hearn tell
that your daughter and some
your folks had gone
of
off after this Mr. Daniel Boone, I concluded that you
might have some way of sending this letter to my hus-
band, s'posin' that he had jined them."

" "
Do you suppose that to be the case ? asked the
Squire.
" " he
Well, yes," she replied, hesitatingly ;
if is gone
Boone or anybody else in the woods, he will come
after
up to him. There ain't no better backwoodsman

around these parts than William Brownell, if I do say
it."
"
You say if he has gone after Boone. Have you any
"
doubts about it ?
"Well, I hev, and I hevn't. You see, Squire, when

William is attendin' to these things about the Regula-
tors, he probable to speak the truth, if

ain't altogether
he is
questioned, and as a rule I don't question him.
Then it seems to me as if Stephen Roberts ought to
know where he is, most as well and perhaps better as I
would, cos he has had the directing of him for a long

time. Still Roberts may hev sent him off himself, and
there might be some mistake about the time of his
goin'."
The Squire looked surprised. "What would this
man Roberts send your husband out to join Boone
for?" he asked.
" what don't know but I hev heard
Well, that is I ;
William name the two together a good many times,

and hev heard him speak of
I Judge Anderson
the in
same breath. So I kind of put the three together but ;
I am nothing but an or'nary woman, and can not con-
clude on these matters as you can."

The Squire was silent for a moment, while he re.
fleeted.
There seemed to be something like a mystery in all

this, and if there was any one thing that Squire O'Brien
hated more than another, it was mystery.

While might well be that Boone's connection with
it
Judge Anderson had got noised about in Hillsborough,

he could not understand why it should be a matter of
interest to Stephen Roberts, whom he knew to be not
only a man of ability, as he had said, but also shrewd,
calculating, and uncompromising in his conduct of any
operation he took in hand.

He had also understood, though he had not cared to
express this opinion to Mrs. Brownell, that Roberts
was not altogether faultless in his character, nor entirely
unconnected with the serious troubles which had been
originated by the Regulators. He remembered, too,
DANIEL BOONE. 287
against him the suspicions formed by Harry Calvert, as

to his possible complication with the abduction of
Boone. Altogether, he began to suspect that this con-

nection of Brownell and Roberts, and of both together,
with Boone, and with his own daughter and friends,
were matters of serious importance, and would bea,
grave consideration.
After a moment's thought his mind was made up for
the present, and turning to Mrs. Brownell, he said :
"
Well, my good woman, I will take the responsibil-
ity of keeping this letter, if you have no objection, and

will try and forward it to your husband. I think that
before long, if we do
not hear something of our friends
who have gone out in search of Daniel Boone, I shall
go myself or send somebody out to discover the facts
with regard to the safety of my daughter."

The woman rose, and heaving a sigh as if of relief,
said :
" I am sure, sir, that it is very kind in you to take
care of the letter and to give yourself so much trouble.
Iam glad to get rid of the thing, for it has been frettin
me most to death ever since I got it, which will be a
week to-morrow. You see it took me some time to fix
things so that I might leave."
" "
Very well," said the Squire, we will consider this
matter settled, then ; you will stay here to-night, and ii
the morning I will send one of the men to take you

home in a wagon."
The woman flushed at this evidence of kindness on
the part of the Squire, and her eyes filled with tears.
Grasping his extended hand she pressed it warmly in her
own, at the same time thanking him for saving her the
labor and time involved in undertaking on foot her
long journey home.

Mrs. Brownell was accordingly taken care of for the
rest of the day and night, and on the following morn-
ing was sent off in accordance with the promise of the

Squire ; she and her son being driven away in a wagon
in charge of one of the negroes about the place.
CHAPTER XIX.
In whichJudge Anderson and Squire O'Brien conclude to go West to look after

and the Reader is permitted to assist at the discussion
their several interests ;
of a communication which recalls the suggestion that "the evil that men
do lives after them."
THE mystery which Squire O'Brien dimly discerned

in his latest adventure the arrival of Mrs. Brownell at
the great house, and the purport of her mission this
waxed more mysterious still, as the Squire gave it such

examination as he might. So important a place did it
at length assume in his mind, that he decided, despite

the present mood. of Lady O'Brien, to confer with her
concerning it. He accordingly availed himself of the

first opportunity and opened the question to her.
Lady O'Brien listened quietly to his relation of his
conversation with Mrs. Brownell. Having absorbed

all the information that was to be had, she calmly
declined to entertain the question in any aspect, saying
as she did so :
" I shall leave Mistress Maude and her affairs in your

hands ;
I wash mine of both."
This interview between the Squire and his wife,

which, as may be judged, was a very brief one, had taken
place on the afternoon of the day of Mrs. Brownell's
departure homeward, in the drawing-room, where the
13 (289)
290
two chanced to meet. After his wife had left the
room, the Squire stood before the window cogitating,

when he observed three travelers on horseback coming
up the road toward the house.
After watching them for a moment, and not discov-
ering who they were, the Squire went out on the piazza
to meet them. As they drew near he seemed to recog-
nize the foremost cavalier, a stout, fine-looking gentle-
man, and in a few moments he discovered that this was

no other than Judge Anderson.
his old friend
Hastening to greet and welcome one whom he liked

so much, and for whom he felt such profound respect,
he was received no less cordially by the Judge, who,
introducing his two companions, younger men than
himself, as friends from Granville County, alighted,
and the three were invited by the Squire into the
drawing-room.
Preparations for entertaining the new-comers were
at once ordered, though Judge Anderson deprecated
any extra trouble on his account, declaring that he
could only remain for a brief time, and that he had
come to see the Squire on business of some im-
portance.
He and his friends were, however, introduced to
Lady O'Brien and her guests, and all three were at
once made to promise that they would remain over at
least for one or two days.
At the first opportunity the Judge indicated his de-
sire to make a private communication to Squire O'Brien,
and the two were presently alone together, in the li-
DANIEL BOONE. 2 gi
brary, which, as has been before suggested, was the

Squire's sanctum, and whither he always retired to
discuss any important question or meet any emergency
requiring reflection. He soon learned that there was
sufficient in Judge Anderson's communication to oc-
cupy all his attention and arouse all his interest.
Premising, by asking for the latest news from Boone

and his party, the Judge was astounded at the state-
ment that was made by Squire O'Brien. To begin with,

he now learned for the first time that Boone's brother,
on his return from his first visit to the woods, had
brought back tidings that he had found Daniel Boone
alone, and that the latter was accompanied by Harry
Calvert, all his original companions having been either
lost in the woods during their journey, or slain by the
Indians. The particulars of Harry's departure in search
of Boone, which it thus appeared had attained its ob-
ject, were then made known to Judge Anderson to- ;
gether with those regarding the enterprise of Maude

O'Brien and her companions, who had set forth on
their expedition in the latter part of the previous June.
The Judge thus became informed of the exact situation

of affairs so far as they were known to Squire O'Brien,
and, for the first time, knew all the occurrences which
had prevented his secretary from exactly carrying out
his directions.
After listening to all that the Squire had to relate,

the Judge began his story, or so much of it as he
deemed it necessary to disclose at the present juncture.
He informed the Squire of the death of Stephen Rob-
292
erts, but merely as though it were a piece of general

news, interesting to him through the slight connection
which that personage had had with Harry Calvert.
He did not refer to any of the details of his inter-
view with Roberts ;
and indeed it was his fixed deter
initiation to retain the secret history of that interview

and of the knowledge possessed by himself which had
brought it about, closely locked up in the secret re-
cesses of his own brain. But as the main object of his
present was to obtain the assurance of the safety

visit
of Rafe Slaughter, he did not consider it improper to
allude to so much of the knowledge he possessed of

Roberts' transactions, as would facilitate his enlighten-
ment on this score.
" "
suppose you know," he said to the Squire, that
I
Roberts' character was not considered to be any of the
best,although there had been nothing definite ever

brought against him."
" "
Yes," replied the other,have always had a gen- I
eral impression of that kind. From time to time I

learned of his supposed connection with the Regula-
tors, and I always believed that he instigated the riot

at Hillsborough, and that he was concerned in the ab-
duction of Boone though why he should have gone
;
to so much trouble and apparent risk to carry out the

latter purpose, I never could imagine."
" These questions are all explicable," remarked the
"
Judge ; but the man is dead, and there is no use in
our wasting time in calling up the acts of his past life.
What I am most interested in at present is the acts,

DANIEL BOONE. 293
which appears to me, he may still be in a position to

it
commit through his instruments."

"
You surprise me," said the Squire, as his mind
reverted to the letter given him by Mrs. Brownell, and
which was safely reposing in a drawer in the table on
which he leaned.
" "
Yes," pursued Judge Anderson, this man indi-
cated to me during our last conversation, in which I

may, without impropriety, observe, that he was very
frank and open he intimated that he had made ar-
;
rangements and started a train of circumstances which

would eventually result in some catastrophe to some-
body.
"
His sudden death intervening, prevented any ex-
planation on his part of the nature or details of this
enterprise, but I gathered sufficient concerning it to
cause me a great deal of uneasiness ;
and on reflection
I determined to set out, and with such slight clues as
I possessed, endeavor to prevent the execution of his
intentions.
" Without going into particulars, I will say that the
best understanding I could bestow on the whole mat-
ter led me to believe that the object of his design was
the person of my Rafe Slaughter, whom I
secretary,
think (to speak plainly) he intended to have put out of
the way."
"Good God!" cried the Squire, "you don't mean
to say he intended to have him murdered ?"
"
My dear friend, Stephen Roberts is dead, and I
could certainly have no wish to defame his character,
or misrepresent his intentions ;
on the contrary, my
inclination is to protect him as far as I can with jus-
tice to others ;
and I will observe that I do not believe
the man was willfully wicked.
" He was and misled,
terribly mistaken judgment his
clouded, and his opinions biased and prejudiced, and

all this resulted in making him morally a monstrous
creation, capable of committing a great deal of terrible
evil.
" I need not go through the process of reasoning by
which I arrived at my present opinions7 but I can
assure you that they are fixed, and I am almost posi-

tive thathe had some nefarious purpose in his mind
which he had already partially executed, and which is
still being carried out, and that the object of his pur-
pose was some evil disposition of Rafe Slaughter."
The Squire had been nervously tapping with his fin-
gers on the table beside him, his whole manner exhibit-

ing disturbance and irritation.
Indeed, the unexpected presentment of a further
complication of the mysterious circumstances which
had already annoyed him, was beginning to tell upon
his equanimity,and he could hardly wait for his friend's
concluding words- to disclose what he knew, and which
he had begun to think might have some bearing on
Judge Anderson's theories.
Opening the drawer where the letter lay which had

been given to him by Mrs. Brownell, he withdrew it, and
showed it toJudge Anderson explaining briefly the
;
manner in which it had fallen into his hands. The

DANIEL BOONE. 29$
Judge, after looking at the superscription a moment,

said :
"
know that writing it is Stephen Roberts'. I
I ;
have known something about this man Brownell, too,

and have seen him often. He bears the appearance of
a plain, honest farmer, not particularly intelligent, and
not at all that of one who would be suspected of being
concerned in a plot against a man's life or property.
" But I have my own sources of information, as well
as Stephen Roberts had his, and I know Brownell's
honest appearance belies the character of the man.
" He
has kept away from our part of the country for
a good while in fact, ever since the Hillsborough riot,
inwhich he was prominent, and where to my certain

knowledge he was one of the first to act, and was the
prime mover in the attempt to hang one of my officials,
Sheriff Caleb Glennie.
" He is a thoroughly bad man, without any moral
restraint of any kind I think he would not hesitate at
;
any crime which it was made to his interest to commit.
It seems to me, Squire, that in this letter we must have

an important clue to the secret intentions of Stephen
Roberts."
" It does
look that way, certainly," said the other ;
"
and, to tellyou the truth, when the letter was given
to me, it assumed sufficient importance in my mind
for me to think it would be a good idea to suppress it,
at least temporarily."
"
You and although I don't approve of in-
did well ;
vading the sanctity of a man's private correspondence.

still, in these circumstances, and considering the char

acter of the two men, I am almost inclined to recom
mend that this letter should be opened, and that we
ihould acquaint ourselves with its contents."
The Squire looked startled at this proposition.
With his high sense of honor, to tamper with ;i
was to break the most solemn obligation

sealed letter
between men. It appeared to him that such a com-

munication, by its utter unguardedness and dependence
on the integrity of those through whose hands it should
pass, appealed warmly to the most sacred instincts of

the human heart. It was like shooting an unarmed
man, or striking to death one who slept in one's house,
reposing confidence in his hospitality.

The Judge saw the effect of his words, and hastened
to strengthen his suggestion by such arguments as oc-
curred to him. Strongly impressed himself by the ne-

cessities of the case, and that the emergency required
speedy action, he succeeded at length in overcoming

the scruples of his friend ;
the more so, perhaps, that he
undertook the entire responsibility of the act himself.
The two having agreed upon this, Judge Anderson
broke the letter, opened it, and read as follows :
"
WILLIAM BROWNELL :
"
On receipt of this, if you have not already carried
out the purpose I indicated to you at our meeting, you will
at once do so. The articles I named to you are to be han-
dled as follows : No. I is to be destroyed, that you may
better take care of No. 2. Remember 'seven,' two of
DANIEL BOONE. 297
which are already gone. Use any means you like, but
take care of your own safety. When this is done coin-
ntniticate ivith me."
There was no signature, but the letter was at once

recognized by Judge Anderson to be throughout in the
handwriting of Stephen Roberts.
When he had finished reading it aloud, he looked
at the Squire, who sat with a dazed expression, gazing
straight before him. The Judge immediately returned
to the letter, and read it aloud again slowly, and em-
phasizing carefully each word as he went along, in order

that the special value of each of these, if there should
be any, might appear. When he had concluded he

folded the letter, and for a moment said nothing then ;
he looked up and remarked :
"
Can you make anything out of that, O'Brien ?"
" Not the least," said the other. " It
appears to be
a jumble of numbers which can have no meaning, ex-
cept to the two persons interested."

"
Unless I mistake," rejoined Judge Anderson, " they
have a meaning of great interest to two or three per-
sons, but as to who they are, I am now more in the dark
than ever. But one purpose has been strengthened in
my mind by reading this letter, and that is that I am
determined to go on and find Rafe Slaughter, if he is
on earth, and disclose the real meaning of this con-
spiracy.
" You connected me
see, Squire, as Brownell's wife
with both her husband and his master, and said
298
moreover, that Brownell himself had gone off to
join Boone and he must have known who his com-

panions were why, all of this points directly toward
I have made up my mind," he

my own conclusions.
" that I will do what I set out from home
added, rising,
intending to do."
" And that is ? " asked the Squire.
"
To take my two companions with me, and go out
and find our friends, wherever they may be."
" And "
by the Lord Harry, I will go with you cried !
the Squire, and he jumped from his chair and grasped

the other warmly by the hand, as if to clinch the bar-
gain.
" I
am sick of all this waiting and wondering, and
now that there is so much that we can not explain
mixed up with this, I know that if I remain here I shall
be worried out of my life.
" I will to join you, and we
make my preparations
will set forth assoon as you please. Four will be bet-
ter than three, in case there should be any trouble with
anybody, and by this time it may be that the party of

our friends might need strengthening, though I hope
to Heaven this will not prove to be the case."
The two now left the library, and as they reached
the hall the Squire turned round and said to his friend,
in a low tone :
"
My Lac-7 r'ill think I am crazy, and I guess will not
hesitate to say so."
"
It does look a little out of the common," responded
the Judge, laughing, " that so many of us should start

DANIEL BOONE. 299
off from your house, in different parties, one going into

the woods after the other, without any apparent object
of sufficient moment to induce them to do so. I could
hardly blame her Ladyship, if she thought that the
whole of us were demented, excepting Boone, for, of

course, that is his trade."
" " arrows into
Yes," said the Squire, it is like firing
the air one after the other, without aim, in hopes that
the last one will find the rest."
CHAPTER XX.
In which Daniel Boone and Harry reappear, and the hunter quotes Scripture.
The casting of the bread of kindness upon the waters of accident, is among
the seed planted in the wilderness, to bring forth fruit
" after
many days ";
and, Squire Boone having kept his appointment, the chain of events goes
on unfolding.
" I AM richer than the man mentioned in the Script-

ures, who owned the cattle on a thousand hills. I own
the wild beasts of more than a thousand valleys."
The speaker was leaning on his rifle, gazing upon a
scene that would have awakened reflection in the mind

of themost inattentive observer of natural beauty. He
stood upon the brow of a hill, which, sloping down
many hundred feet, overlooked a broad stream flowing

to the southwest through a fertile valley sparsely
wooded, whose extensive plains were to be seen al-
most as far as the eye could reach.

On these plains immense herds of buffalo were graz-
ing. The air had the

sharp vitality of early au-
crisp,
tumn, and the trees, which had begun to turn, gave a

variety of hue to the color of the landscape, which was
beyond anything imaginable, vivid and brilliant.
In the distant east could be seen the towering sum-

mits of the Cumberland mountains. It was a magnifi-
cent view, and there is little wonder that Daniel Boone,

though experienced in such sights, should have given
(300)
DANIEL BOONE. 301
vent to the exclamatory outburst which begins this
chapter.
Boone had but little changed in appearance. He
was, perhaps, a trifle thinner and a little more bronzed,
but his form was as erect, athletic, and sinewy, and his
hazel eye as bright and piercing as when we first intro-
duced him to the reader.

He was clad in a hunting- shirt, loosely made, of
dressed deerskin, with leggings of the same material
and had on his feet a pair of moccasins. The collar of
his hunting-shirt and the seams of his leggings were or-
namented with fringe. Around his waist he wore a

leather belt, from which was suspended on the right
side a tomahawk, and on the left his hunting-knife, bul-
let-pouch, and powder-horn.
Beside him, seated on a fallen tree, was a young
man, sun-burned and heavily-bearded, in whom his
friends would have had some difficulty in recognizing
the rather foppishly-dressed Harry Calvert as he ap-
peared when in attendance upon his cousin at Mount

Mourne.
He was evidently, however, in perfect health, his frame
showing increased muscular strength ;
and though or-
dinarily somewhat stout in his proportions, his long
pilgrimage and constant exercise in the unrestrained

freedom of the wilderness, had brought him to such a
state that there did not appear to be a superfluous
ounce of flesh about him.
He sat resting his chin on his hand and his elbew
o.n his knee, his rifle beside him, and gazed off into
3 o2
the distance, as though absorbed in the magnificent
prospect afforded him.

Turning to his companion, he said, in answer to the
outburst of the latter :
" I have never known you to become enthu-

Boone,
siastic before ;
and besides, I was not aware that you
were so familiar with the Scriptures."
The other laughed a short, sharp laugh, as he said :
" I much
ain't given to enthusiasm, Mr. Calvert,
you're right ;
but I s'pose there's a soft spot in all
of us ;
and that scene with all those buffalo grazing
there, sort o' set me to thinkin' and I recalled what the
man I ain't much given to quotin'
said in the Bible.
Scripture, either, but that come kind o* pat. I guess,

unless it was the ten commandments, I'd have work to
remember another passage."
"
Well, you could not remember one more applica-
"
ble, if you knew the Bible by heart," said Harry ; but,
to tell you the truth, while you and I are finding so
much beauty looking westward, I must say the attrac-
tion for me lies in the opposite direction. We have

seen enough of the western country in the last two
years to satisfy me, at least, until I come to settle in it ;
and now all my mind is fixed on reaching those we have

left behind us."
"
Yes, yes ; I know it is natural for you to feel lone-
some after so long a trip, when you are not accustomed

to Now, you see, with me it's different. I feel more
it.
lonesome when I am at home though I wouldn't care

to say so to the old woman."
DANIEL BOONE. 303
"
No, and she wouldn't care to have you and, after ;
all, Boone, I believe you would like to meet your wife

"
and children just as much as I would to see here
he paused, and Boone finished the sentence for him.
" Miss
O'Brien," he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
" "
Well, yes," continued Harry, laughing, that about
covers it though I would like to see Uncle Hugh and
;
Tom Hardeman ; yes, and that curious compound and

noble fellow, Rafe Slaughter. suppose they are all
I
together somewhere. And, by the way," he added,

more energetically, " where do you suppose they are
about now ? "
"
Well, you see, I told my brother, when he went
back to the settlement, to give them our trail, and
they can not make a mistake very easy. Anyhow, he
is meet us about two days from now, as my reckon-
to
ing has it, and not more than a day's journey from this
very spot and when we see him we will know more
;
about their movements. But I guess I have looked at

the buffalo as long as I want to, and, if you have no
objections, we may
as well be moving."
Harry arose with alacrity, and throwing his rifle over

his shoulder, followed Boone into the woods.
They continued march through the day,

their stop-
ping only at noon to refresh themselves and rest for a
while, and by nightfall were many miles away

little (
from the spot where they had halted in the morning.

Here they prepared to make their camp for the
night, and while Harry was busily engaged in building
the fire, Boone started into the bush for a short dis-
tance, with the intention of cutting some brush to make

a softer place than the ground upon which to repose
for the night.
He was at work at this operation with his hunting,
knife, when he heard a smothered cry in the direction

of the spot where he had left his companion.
The active figure of the hunter covered the inter-
vening space in a moment, and he sprang upon the

scene just in time to find Harry struggling in the
grasp of a powerful young Indian.

This was a situation not unfamiliar to Boone, and his
capacity to cope with was not only certain, but imme-

it
diate. Rightly judging that the Indian must be with-

out companions, since they never attack a white man
singly unless forced to do so, he determined to capture
rather than to kill him.
In an instant he had thrown his muscular arms
about the Indian, pinning his hands to his sides by the
act, and thus forcing him to release Harry, whom he
had grasped by the throat, and was rapidly bearing to

the ground.
The Indian, thus unexpectedly attacked in the rear
for he had not seen Boone, and supposed that Harry
was alone fought stubbornly and valiantly, but to no
purpose. His late antagonist being released, united
his efforts to those ofBoone, and the two immediately
threw the savage to the ground, where the hunter quietly
sat upon him, holding his two hands
tightly grasped,
while Harry sought in his knapsack for a piece of cord
or rope with which to tie him.
DANIEL BOONE. 305
'This was immediately accomplished, and then Boone,
rising, and placing his captive in a sitting posture lean-
ing against a tree, proceeded to interrogate him.

The reader would have at once recognized the sav-
age as the one who had made his escape from the
party of eight who had been routed by the courageous
and cunning act of Rafe Slaughter but to Boore and ;
Harry he was, of course, a stranger.

"
He is Boone, after looking
in his war-paint." said
" and must have
at him sharply by the waning twilight,
strayed from his party, or else have escaped after a

fight."
To all questioning, the Indian at opposed con-
first
temptuous silence ;
but when Boone, beginning to be
exasperated, and understanding fully the nature of these
people, quietly picked up his rifle and began to exam-

ine the priming, he changed his tactics.
He now showed that he could speak English well
enough, and after some further hesitation, related the

circumstances already known to the reader. To these
he added the statement that he had been wandering
about, searching in vain for the large body of the tribe
to which his party had belonged, and that he was still
pushing westward in the hope of overtaking them.

When he came upon Harry, as he assured Boone, he
had no intention of hurting him, but only wanted to
get his and ammunition, as he was nearly starved,
rifle
having been without arms, and obliged to subsist on

herbs and roots for the period of more than two
weeks which had elapsed since the fight. After further
questioning and being promised his freedom, he direct-

ed the two explorers to the spot where their friends had
been captured, describing this with such accuracy that
Boone made up his mind he was telling the truth.
As the fellow was evidently suffering from the want of
animal food Boone permitted him to indulge in a por-
tion of their small store of dried venison and fried pork,
which was soon emitting a fragrant smell, as Harry
proceeded to cook it over the fire, which was now light-
ed and burning vigorously.
The Indian ate voraciously, and, after his own fash-
ion,seemed to experience a sense of gratitude but as ;
he was not to be altogether depended upon, the rope

which had been untied from his hands to permit him to
feed himself, was again secured beyond any possibility
of his loosening it, and he was left on the ground to
take what comfort he might.

Boone and Harry took turns at watching and sleep-
ing through the night, and early in the morning, after

again giving the Indian a sufficient repast, and supply-
ing a little food to carry with him, untied him and
told him he was free to go whither he listed. The In-
dian, who had hardly believed that he was to escape

thus easily, shook both of them by the hands, and then
with a parting salutation sped away into the forest.
The others turned their steps in the opposite direc-
tion, and day passed like the one preceding it,
this
bringing them at its close to the point at which Boone
expected to meet his brother.

Here they took possession of a camp which had been
DANIEL BOONE. 30;
constructed by the hunter when on his westward jour-
ney, and which consisted simply of a few logs piled up

at the side of a huge tree and covered over with the
baik of the linden, making a shelter nearly in the form

of an ordinary tent, in front of which the fallen trunk
of a tree answered for a back-log for the fire.
As they were by this time running short of meat, the
two passed the next day and their camp be-

in hunting ;
also only a few hundred yards

ing near a salt-lick, and
from the bank of a tributary of the Louisa, or Ken-
tucky River, they had not long to wait for game.
They succeeded in securing a fine buck that had come
up the salt, and having skinned
to the spring to lick
and cut up the animal, they had but little else to do
than to wait.
But so close was Squire Boone on his appointment,
that at dusk on the second day after their encampment,
he made his appearance mounted on a horse and leading
another laden with ammunition, besides various other
and comfort of the explorers.
articles for the use
The greeting between the three men was unaffected

and hearty. The ammunition of Boone and Harry had
by time got so low that the addition to it was very
this
welcome. For the young man there was also a supply

of tobacco and pipes, of which he stood sorely in need,
and with which he hastened to regale himself, as soon

as they were unpacked.
The three men passed a very sociable and agreeable
evening in their little hut, with a bright fire blazing in
front of it. The new-comer had a great deal to relate
308
THE LJFE A\'D TIMES OF
both as to home matters and concerning the double
journey he had undertaken.

Much to the regret of the others, he could give no
information concerning the movements of Maude and
her companions, excepting to state the strength of their
party, since they had gone before he reached the Yad-

kin ;
but even this scanty news was grateful to his hear-
ers, since it confirmed the truth of the story of their
recent captive, and particularly as they now learned
that the others were accompanied by an Indian guide,
and one who was well known to Daniel Boone and his
brother as a man who could be depended upon.
On the following day the three men set forth on their
journey, taking turns in riding, one of them being al-
ways on foot.
Boone had made up his mind that even if the informa-
tion given him by the Indian whom they had captured,
as to the whereabouts of the party they were seeking
should prove false, it would take them but little out of
their way and they accordingly
to follow his directions,
followed the stream toward the point he had indicated,

and which they judged was not more than twenty-five
or thirty miles from their present camp.
Their progress through the almost interminable for-
ests of eastern Kentucky was necessarily slow.

Ten miles was a very good day's march, and often
they did not make so much. Sometimes for days to-

gether prospecting about the country and going on
hnnting expeditions delayed them.
And this was the history of nearly all such enter-
DANIEL BOONE. 309
prises. Experienced as Boone and his original com

panions had been, and although they had pushed for
ward at speed, and without any unnecessary delays
from their first May, 1769, it had taken them
start in
more than a month to get a distance of some two hun-

dred and fifty miles.
The present party moved, on the average, at very lit-
tle greater speed, their horses being valuable as beasts

of burden, and to save their legs, rather than to hast
en their movements.
The two weeks which had been occupied by
of time
the escaped Indian, before he met Boone, had not been
passed in straight journeying, as he had explained to

them, but had much of it been wasted in fruitless ex-
cursions in different directions whither he went in hopes

to come up with the rest of his tribe.
Added to this, the day's journey which had been
made by the captors of Thomas Hardeman and the rest,
would have had to be gone over twice before theii
party could be again placed in the same relative posi-

tions. But taking all this into consideration, it was a
matter of surprise to Boone, when two days of steady
travel in the direction of the place where they had last
been seen, failed to bring about a meeting with Rafe's

party. He refrained, however, from expressing his un-
easiness to Harry, and waited, hoping that they would
not have to go many more miles without a meeting.
CHAPTER XXI.
A Chapter of Accidents." Capture of Boone's party, and all three in dangei

of a permanent loss of liberty, through an impending matrimonial catastro-
phe ; which is providentially averted.
" WE can
not be far away from the place where they
had that tussle," said Boone, as the three were leaving
a level plateau, over which for the distance of a few
miles their march had progressed, and so on into the
thick' forest on the other side.
was past noon the travelers had eaten their mid-

It ;
day meal and refreshed, and thoughtless of danger,

;
they moved rapidly on their journey. Hardly had they

left the open ground behind them, and become sur-
rounded with the dusky shades of forest growth, when

suddenly, as if by magic, their further progress was
barred.
The three stopped still in their tracks, amazed at the
scene which met their gaze. It appeared as though
every tree had suddenly changed by some spell, and

now human, instead of vegetable life. As far
disclosed
as they could see, the forest was filled with Indians, all
armed for battle, and disguised in their war-paint.
Evidently, as it flashed across Boone's mind instanta-
neously, this was a part, at least, of the very tribe that

the single Indian whom they had encountered had
(310)
DANIEL BOONE. 311
been seeking to rejoin. Evidence as to this was fur-

nished also on the instant for prominent among them
;
could be seen the figure of their late captive.

There was time for a moment's thought on the part of
those thus unexpectedly meeting, for the Indians seemed
quite as much surprised as were the other party.

But it was useless to attempt either to flee from or
fight so large a body, numbering apparently sixty or

seventy warriors. Boone therefore determined to put
the best face on the matter possible, and accordingly,
happening to be on foot, he advanced to the chief, who

stood alone, in front of the group of Indians, and ex-
tending his hand uttered the customary salutation,

"
How ? "
The chief did not hesitate to acknowledge the cour-
" How ? "
tesy he grasped Boone's hand in
; his, and said :
several times, as though to indicate the great gratifica-

tion which he experienced in this meeting. The others
of the party now came up, and it was speedily made
clear to Harry and Squire Boone that they would do
well to dismount from their horses, and let themselves
be relieved of the care of those animals.This they did
with wry faces, and
feeling, both of them, that their
position, though romantic, was not without its discom-
fiting circumstances.
Boone knew well enough that the party among whom
he properly considered himself and his companions to
be prisoners, were not going to overlook the slaughter
of their comrades by white men whom they would pres-
ently know were friends of his own.

In fact, the Indian of whom we have spoken could
now be seen in earnest conversation with the chief, and
from the manner of both was plain that he was iden
it
tifying the captives, and it was not likely that these

would long be left in ignorance of their fate.
This proved to be the case. The chief's brow dark-
ened, and the other Indians clustered about listening,
gave signs of anger and irritation which it was plain

must presently have vent.
In fact, this occurred almost before Boone and the
others had time to collect their thoughts.
With a wild whoop the Indians rushed upon them,
and in a twinkling their arms were snatched from them,
and they were standing helpless with their hands tied
behind them. Harry would have resisted, but a word
of counsel whispered in his ear by the hunter, quieted
him.
1
Boone knew that resistance would mean certain and

instant death ;
and while their position as it stood was
doubtless precarious, yet while they lived there was
hope and chance of escape.

Meeting with no opposition the Indians presently
calmed down, and taking possession of the horses and
the food and luggage which they carried, seemed to be
improving somewhat in their humor as they discovered

the value of the booty which had fallen to them.
Boone now vainly sought to obtain from the chief
answers to questions which he put to him in regard to
the intended disposition of them, and as to why they
were seized when there could be nothing against them
DANIEL BOONE. 313
The and evidently understood him, but

chief listened,
would give no reply, and showed no sensibility or emo-

tion whatever as to them.
Boone at length, pointing to the Indian whom they
had fed and released after his attack upon Harry, de-
scribed the occurrence, and claimed freedom for him-

self and his party on account of it.
" found your young man," he said, " attacking my

I
friend. I was armed and could have killed him with
my knife or my tomahawk. I spared his life. My

friend whom
he had sought to kill forgave him and ;
when we found that he was suffering from hunger, we fed

him, and we permitted him to lie by our side
all night
and rest, only binding him that we might secure our-
selves from danger. In the morning we untied him
again, gave him food, and let him go on his way re-
freshed. It is not warriors going out to fight their
enemies who are ungrateful and forget kindness, but
squaws and beardless boys."

Then looking about over the faces of the savages
grouped around him, he waved his hand, as though it
them and continued "
included all, : These seem to be
men I see war-paint on their faces, and arms in their
hands. Are they going out and did they paint
to play,
themselves to frighten women and children ? Are they
cowards, that they have tied three harmless travelers,
after having first disarmed them, that they should not
defeat nigh on to one hundred warriors?"
Boone's address had its effect. That it irritated and
even shamed them in some degree, was plain from the
14
3I4 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
manner of the Indians, but the general impression was
in favor of the captured party.

The chief now up the Indian whose freedom
called
had been given him by Boone and Harry, and closely

questioned him as to the truth of what had been said
by the hunter
For the moment Boone thought it possible his words
might have even gained their release, but this impres-
sion was short-lived.
After conferring with the other Indians, the chief
turned to Boone, and said :
"
Your people killed my warriors. Their medicine-
man made fire burst " and he flung his arms into the
air, to signify the explosion caused by Rafe Slaugh-
ter, and which had evidently been described to him

"and my young men were left dead on the ground.
Their squaws wait for them at our village. But you
were kind to one of our warriors, and you shall not die.
You go with us to take the place of the men who
shall
were killed by your friends. You shall be husbands to

their squaws."
The most of the colloquy between Boone and the

chief had been conducted in the Shawnee tongue, with
which Boone was passably familiar; at its close he
communicated to his companions the nature of the
decision reachedby the chief.
The prospect was not exhilarating to any of them.
The idea of being taken to an Indian village to fill the
position of husband to the widow of a dead warrior,
did not strike them favorably but it was plain that
;
DANIEL BOONE. 315
even this conclusion, if carried out, might be greatly

preferable to the fate which they had not unreasonably
anticipated ;
and as Boone said between them and
the Indian village were many miles and many oppor-
tunities.
The march was now begun, and Harry felt his heart *
grow heavy in his bosom, as he saw that it took a di-
rection almost exactly opposite to that in which they

had been going as they supposed to a speedy meeting
with their friends.
After proceeding a few miles, the steps of the party
were directed toward the bank of the stream which
Boone and the others had followed on their way east.
Here a halt was made, and a discussion between the

chief and his followers ensued. The result of this ap-
peared presently ;
a considerable body of the latter
going off in a westerly direction, leaving about twenty,

including the chief, in charge of the prisoners.
Boone regarded change with considerable satis-
this
faction, as it was much easier to deal with twenty men

than with seventy.
The spirits of all three rose in consequence. The
spot where they were was one frequented by buffalo
and other animals, which came there to drink ; and

here the water was shallow, although the stream was
rapid and pretty wide. The locality was evidently well

known to the Indians, who at once commenced to ford
the stream, taking their prisoners with them.
On gaining the opposite bank they increased their
speed, evidently with the intention of reaching some
3 i6
particular spot before nightfall. From an occasional

word dropped by his captors, Boone gained the impres-
sion that this party was only a small portion of a whole
tribe, and he came to the conclusion that some exten-

sive warlike action was in preparation, and that their
present journey was designed to bring about a union

with the main body of Shawnees, probably encamped
some miles further on.
Itsoon became evident, however, that whatever point
they had in view, the Indians had made up their minds
that they would not be able to reach it at the time they
desired.
Word was passed to slacken their speed, a command

which was sufficiently agreeable to Boone and his com-
panions, who were by this time becoming greatly fa-
tigued with the rapidity of their progress, and the

rough ground over which they were hurried with very
little consideration for their feelings. They kept on,
however, until dark, when the chief gave the command
to stop, and encamp for tfie night.
This order was at once obeyed, and the usual prepa-

rations being made, a fire built and food distributed,
all, except the Indians who were placed on guard, were

presently wrapt in slumber ; excepting, also, Boone and
his companions, who were not only too tired, but too
agitated by and the conflicting emo
their condition,
tioi's which disturbed them, to be immediately over-
come by sleep.
They were still securely tied, and as they lay upon

the ground a short distance from the fire, around which
DANIEL BOONE.
were extended the forms of the sleeping savages, their
reflections were certainly not of an agreeable cast
though, as for Boone, he had been too many times in

danger, and even in similar difficulty, to trouble himself
much concerning the disagreeable features of his posi-
tion. His watchful eye was continually on the alert,
and mind, acute and suggestive, on the lookout for
his
some possible chance for escape.

While thus reflecting, his attention was drawn toward
the Indian whose friend he had been in their chance
encounter, and whose eyes, he noticed, were fixed upon

him, and with not an unfriendly expression.
Perceiving at length that he had attracted Boone's
attention, the Indian rose, after poking the fire for a
moment with a stick, which he had picked up for that
purpose, and went into the woods, as though for more

fuel.
His movement was observed by the Indians who

were watching, but they paid no attention to it, and a
moment later Boone was surprised to hear a sound be-
hind him in the opposite direction to that in which
the Indian had disappeared.
Turning his head, he saw the latter immediately

behind him. Making a warning gesture, the Indian
showed his knife in his hand, and Boone understood
in a moment his intentions.
Raising himself, accordingly, so that his back, with

his hands tied behind him, was exposed and within
reach of the Indian, he was gratified to discover that
he had not been mistaken in his impression. In a mo-
3 ig
ment he felt the movement of the knife as it cut the
cords which bound his hands, and turning again he saw

the Indian drop it on the ground beside him, and
quickly disappear. Presently he returned to his for-
mer position, with an armful of wood, which he placed
upon the fire.
Having quietly and carefully possessed himself of

the knife, Boone began a slow movement, which soon
brought him to the side of his companions, who were
lying a little distance from him, and who had not per-
ceived what had occurred. They had seen the Indian
disappear and return again with the wood for the fire,
and had thought no more of it.

When Boone had reached the others, he dared only
say a few words to explain what had happened. He
still kept his hands behind him, but with the knife
closely grasped in one of them and his change of

;
position, though witnessed by the Indians on watch,

had not awakened any suspicion. He waited, however,
before undertaking any further movement an op-
until
portunity should present itself. This was not slow in

coming, though occasioned from a quarter and by an
agency the least anticipated.
The night was clear and still, the stars shone brilliantly
in the heavens, and a slight breeze only moved the tops
of the tall trees sufficiently to cause that sighing in the
airwhich is so common a sound to those who frequent
the forests, and which was the only noise perceptible.
But a change came with a suddenness and unexpect-
edness that were electrifying.
DANIEL BOONE. 319
All at once the air rang with yells that made the
blood curdle in the veins of Harry and Squire Boone,
but were understood by the more experienced hunter,
who lay beside them watching his chance.
The fierce war-whoops once aroused the sleeping
at
Indians, and in an instant they were on their feet with

their arms in their hands, and all was confusion.
In this moment of excitement they ceased to think
of their captives, and the opportunity was seized by

Daniel Boone.
With the which had been given him by the
knife
friendly Indian, he quickly cut the bonds which con-

fined the limbs of his friends, and whispering "
Quick :
"
now ! follow me ! darted into the woods, the others
close on his heels.
Their flight was unobserved, and in a few moments

they were at a considerable distance from the scene,
which now resounded with the noise of conflict.
Loud yells of defiance and of mortal agony, with the
crack of the and the sharp whiz of arrows as they
rifle
flew through the air, showed that a fierce battle was
going on.
But Boone and the others did not wait long to listen ;
directing their steps at hazard, they continued to run

at their best speed until the sounds of conflict had
grown more and more distant, and at length ceased

entirely. Very few words were spoken until several
miles had been placed between them and the scene of
their late captivity.
By this time the first light of dawn was appearing in

3 20
the east, and as they had hitherto been going in the
opposite direction, Boone now paused for a moment,

and called a council.
"
Well," said Harry, taking the first opportunity to
express the thought that was uppermost in his mind,
" we have
got away, and that is certainly something to
be thankful for ;
but it occurs to me, what are we go-
ing to do in the woods without guns or ammunition ?
We shall starve to death certainly."

" Don't
tempt Providence, young man," said Boone,
" be thankful for
a little severely ; your escape, and be-
lieve that the same power, or good fortune, or what-
ever you wish to call it, that accomplished that, may
perhaps think enough of you to bring you safe out of
your difficulties."
" After
all, you are right, Boone," replied Harry, a
rebuke "
little chop-fallen at this ;
it is certainly too
early to complain. I am very thankful for our escape."
"
And besides, Mr. Calvert," said Boone, " you must
remember that the Indian we captured, lived for two
weeks on roots and nuts, and what he could do, we
can."
"
Well, he was a poor half-starved creature when we
found him ; but still, when we did find him, he was
alive, and is now, unless those other red rascals whom
I bless for their interposition have made away with
him."
" " I
Which
guess they have," said Squire Boone.
I
caught sight of them as they came out of the bush,

and I tell
you there were more than a hundred of 'em.'
DANIEL BOONE. 321
" "
What do you suppose they were ? asked Harry.
" "
Cherokees," replied Boone ; they are at war with
the Shawnees, who, I guess, thought they were going
to steal a march on them, and will find themselves mis-
taken. But, anyhow, there going to be an awful
is
row out here before long, and I'd just as soon be away
when it happens so I think the best thing we can do
;
will be to push right on east till we get to the mount-

ains, and then take the pass that I came in by when I
was out here first, instead of going south to the one I
came through this last time."

The wisdom of judgment seeming evident to
this
the others, they changed their course, and pushed on

rapidly eastward.
CHAPTER XXII.
The beginning of the end. and Mauda

Rafe Slaughter has presentiments
finds herself unexpectedly in possession of an important secret. A might-
surprise followed by another, and Daniel Boone is heard from with very
decisive results. Traitors in the camp and out of it.
THE threads of our story are now drawing together.

The reader is to be advised that the incidents which
have been recounted few chapters, though
in the last
they occurred in different places, and involved different

characters in our narrative, were actually going on at
very nearly the same point of time.

Thus the death of Stephen Roberts ;
followed by
the departure of Judge Anderson westward, and his
arrival at Squire O'Brien's estate ;
the occurrences
there, and the setting out of the two gentlemen, with
their party, on their own special mission the progress ;
of Daniel Boone and his companion, and their meeting

with Squire Boone the subsequent journey, capture,
;
and night-combat between the Shawnees and the Chero-

kees and the escape of the three
;
explorers all of this ;
was happening during about two weeks in the month

of September, 1771.
Unknown to themselves, and yet with a directness

of purpose which would almost seem to indicate knowl-
edge and intention, the figures who have moved through
(322)
DANIEL BOONE. 333
our history were gradually approaching each other to

accomplish the ends which had been appointed for
them.
In one of the most profound studies of human nat-
ure, given to delight and instruct the world by the
naster spirit of fiction, as it describes human nature,
is to be found the following curious passage :
" we
In our course through life, shall meet the peo-
ple, who are coming to meet us, from many strange
places and by many strange roads, and what it is set to
us to do to them, and what it is set to them to do to
us, will all be done."

The old and true saying, "Truth is stranger than
perhaps never better illustrated than
fiction," is in the
execution of precisely this kind of phenomenon. The

seemingly improbable contingencies upon which fiction
is most natural part of it.

based, are in reality the
All human experience displays what are known as
coincidences, in the most startling number, and of the

most remarkable and unexpected nature. " It is the
unforeseen which really happens," says a French writer ;
and when one recalls the nature of those lives with

which he is familiar, he will, in almost all instances, be
confirmed in his confidence in the accuracy of this state-
ment.
Not the least remarkable feature of the condition of
the personages, to the recounting of some portion of
whose lives and acts we have been directing our atten-
tion not the least peculiar incident in regard to their
situation at the time which we have now reached, was
the fact, that, though unknown to any of them, they
were in reality very near together.
The course which was now being followed by Daniel
Boone and his brother, and Harry Calvert, altered from
their original intention by the force of circumstances,
was along the right bank of the fork of the Louisa
River the same stream where we left Rafe Slaughter,
Thomas Hardeman, and the they returned
rest, after
to the place where Rafe and the women had forded

the stream and escaped from the Indians. Meanwhile,
the course which was designed to be pursued by Judge
Anderson and Squire O'Brien, as intimated in a pre-
vious chapter, had been actually followed by them,
accompanied by the two who had accompanied the

Judge from Granville; and also by a sturdy backwoods-
man, temporarily employed by Squire O'Brien about
his estate.
They had set forth as they had designed, and had

m^oved rapidly in the direction taken by Rafe and his
party in their search for Boone and Harry Calvert.

They were on horseback, and fully armed and equip-
ped for any adventure that might befall them. A week's
rapid traveling, undisturbed by any incident of impor-
tance, brought them to the pass in the Cumberland
mountains by which Rafe's party had proceeded west-
ward, and there we will leave them, while we return to
the latter party whom we left following the fork of
the Louisa River toward its junction with the latter
stream.
From the time when Rafe Slaughter had undertaken
DANIEL BOONE. 325
to guide the movements of his party on their new

route, there had been occurrences of a nature calculated
to render him uneasy and to disturb the comfort of all
of them. Skirting the stream at its banks, at night

they could see on the opposite side the light of camp-
fires ;
sometimes in single instances, or frequently, sev-
wide distances apart.

eral at a time, at
This state of things, hitherto not a part of their ex-

perience, was very disturbing to their minds. On the
one hand, it might happen that one of these camp-fires
should be that of those whom they were seeking, and
as to whom their anxiety by this time had become most
engrossing. But again, this could only be the case with

one of them ;
and though there might be other parties
of white men, traders, and others about in the forests,
the well-known character of this locality and the fre-
quency with which it was made the scene of bitter and

bloody warfare among the Indians, rendered this little
likely.
Moreover, as was argued by the men among them-

selves, Brownell and the Indian guide being considered
certainly good authorities, there was little probability

of Boone's venturing upon lighting a fire at night,
when he must certainly be aware of Indians being in

the neighborhood, who might by this means discovei
them.
Meanwhile, over the minds of all those of their num-
ber who were most interested in the fate of the ones
whom they were seeking, had come that vague impres-

sion which is so frequent in human experience that
326
their friends were near them. In the conversations
which they so frequently held among themselves, Maude

especially had laid great stress upon
the force, in her
case, of this sense of their proximity to Boone and

Harry.
Thomas Hardeman, who was not inclined to mental
examination, either of himself or anybody else, and who

seldom philosophized, except from a strictly practical
stand-point, easily disposed of these impressions upon

Maude's mind to his own satisfaction, if not to hers.
"My dear Miss O'Brien," he would say, "there is
nothing mysterious in your belief that Boone and

Harry, if they are living, must be somewhere near us.
All the probabilities point to the fact that they will
now be quite as far advanced as this on their return
home and though by being (fortunately for us) on this
;
side of the water, we are out of the track which they
would naturally follow under ordinary circumstances,

it is hardly to be doubted that Boone, with his skill in
woodcraft, and the responsibility which he must feel

concerning the important interests he is engaged in
forwarding, would be more likely to adopt the safest
course, and retrace his steps by the way we are going,
than to run the risks which he must know would be
before him if he kept on the other side of the river."
Maude laughed at this practical view, and tossed her
head a little as she replied :
"
Well, we all know you are not sentimental or mys-
tical, but perhaps we may both be right, and reach the
truth, both of us, though by different roads."
DANIEL BOONE. 32;
" "
I agree with Hardeman," said Rafe, as to the
probabilities of the case, while I do not dispute the

force of premonitions ; indeed, I am the last one to
refuse to give credence to precisely that class of mental
phenomena."
" "
Surely, Rafe," said Hardeman, you are not super-
stitious ;
at least I have not seen anything in you to
lead me to believe so."

"
Well, while I do not think I am superstitious, in
the ordinary sense of the word, I do sometimes place a
good deal of reliance on my impressions, even when I
can't discover on what they are based."
He
paused for a moment, and then with a half sigh
continued :
"
And as it seems to illustrate this subject, I will tell
you, what perhaps I should not have mentioned other-

wise, that I have for some days had a presentiment,
misty and undefined, but which has affected me more
than perhaps it should have done."
"And that is?" asked Maude, eagerly.
" a sense of danger to myself" he con-
Well, it is
tinued, hastily, seeing that she looked alarmed.

" I
appear to be approaching something which is
going to result in a grave and serious conclusion to

myself."
" "
Did you ever have that impression before ? asked
Maude.
"
Once, yes ;
when I was in India ; but at that time,
it did not seem to be of a nature to affect me, individ-
ually, or at least so much so as at present."

3 28
Well, what happened then?" inquired Hardeman.

11
" "
What happened was," replied the other, that at
that time I was in Calcutta, which was then besieged
by Suraja Dowlah, and that I narrowly escaped beinfl

the number confined in the now celebrated
among
Black Hole/ of whom out of one hundred and forty,
six, only twenty-three were found alive on the morning

following their incarceration."
The others were seriously affected at the recountal
of their friend's connection with this terrible event,
which was still fresh in the memories of all English-
speaking people, as an historical incident of their own
times.
"
Well," said Hardeman, after a moment, and evi-
dently with a desire to throw off the effect of this nar-
ration, both from his own mind and that of his com-
" in
panions ;
the midst of the siege, with all its horrors,
and especially when that was being conducted by such
a brutal and bloodthirsty people as the Bengalese, it
would not be surprising that you should experience
impressions of coming disaster, at least in a general
way ; but why you should now any presentiment of
feel
special danger to yourself, does not appear on account

of that incident.
"There is just so much similarity between the cases,"

he added, " that we are very possibly in the neighbor-
hood of savages as brutal and barbarous as those whom
you then encountered ;
but if anything should happen
to us from them, I fancy we would be united in danger
and disaster."
DANIEL BOONE. 329
" "
Well," said Rafe, only mentioned this to show
I
that Maude is not alone in her experience. But her
impressions are not forebodings of disaster; and if mine

are correct, they will, according to my theory, only re-
act upon myself.
"
But, to change the subject," he went on,
<;
I have
been thinking that it would be a good idea for us, con-
sidering the evident proximity of the Indians, to dis-

cover some place of safety to which we could retire
in case we should be attacked, or should see any of
them.
"
So this morning, when John and
were out togeth-
I
er, we took some pains to search for such a place, and
I think have found one that will answer our purpose
exactly."
" "
Then do you not mean to go on ? asked Maude,
nervously.
"
Just for the present, and while these camp-fires are
so frequent in the neighborhood, I think it would be
well to lie by quietly, out of the way, and wait and rest
a little. It can not be more than a few days before
these roving bands, of whoever they may consist, will

have continued upon their journey."
" And what "
sort of a place have you found ? asked
Hardeman.
" About a mile west of here," rejpined Rafe, " the land
rises along the bank of the river to a height of about
seventy-five feet in abrupt bluffs; skirting along the
edge of these, John and I came across the entrance to
a considerable cave, which we explored at once.
"
backs right on to the water, and forms quite a
It
large apartment opening into a smaller one. At the

sides there are crevices or fissures in the rock, particu-
larly in that portion of it overhanging the river, which

afford light and air; and altogether, I am certain we
could hold such a place, if we were barricaded within it,
against three times our number."

" " "
Howromantic cried Maude !
;
it reminds one of
the persecutions of the Waldenses, and their taking
refuge in caves in the mountains of Piedmont."

"Well," said Hardeman, "we are not persecuted,
but we should be pretty certain to be if we fell into the
hands of some of those bloodthirsty savages. I think
your idea is a good one, Rafe, and we had better pro-
ceed at once to putting it into effect."
The three now joined their companions, who were

loitering about thetemporary encampment, and Rafe
informed them of the conclusion they had reached as to
their future movements. The plan was viewed fa-
vorably by all of them, and preparations were at once

made to carry it into effect.
In a while the whole party were in motion and
little
the short distance was speedily passed over, and the

cave reached.
No place of refuge could have been better chosen.
The entrance was hidden behind a thick growth of
underbrush, and had only been discovered through an

accidental slip and fall of the guide from the rocks
above, straight into the bushes which hid it. On enter-
ing, a sufficient light for all practical purposes was

DANIEL BOONE. 331
found, gaming admission through the crevices of which

Rafe had spoken.
The floor of the cave and the walls were perfectly
dry ;
and the smaller apartment, extending to one side,
and which opened through an aperture large enough
for a person to pass through, was evidently just the
place for the females of the party.

The travelers had by this time laid in a considerable
stock of dried venison, while the pork and corn-meal,
with which they had provided themselves on setting
forth on their journey, had not yet all given out they ;
were therefore not likely to starve in their new retreat.

They considered it best for the present that they
should not indulge in hunting, lest the sound of their
rifles might bring the Indians down upon them.
In a few hours everything had been comfortably ar-
ranged in their new abode and all settled down to

;
wait until such time as they might safely sally forth

and continue their journey. Meanwhile the Indian
guide was left outside on the watch, to be relieved from
time to time by one of the others and the night ;
passed without any disturbing incident, though the

light from the camp-fires at different points on the
other side of the river could be seen as before.
The ground on which they were was high, and an ex-
tended view could be had in the direction in which the
fires were to be seen. Their relative positions had
changed ;
but so little, that Brownell, upon whose judg-
ment they all relied, was convinced that they did not
indicate in their altered locality the line of march of a
large body of men, but rather the slow movements ol
several smaller parties.

" Mr. Slaughter," he
I tell you what I think about it,
said, on returning to the cave after having been out to

" I
inspect the situation. believe there is going to be a
big war between some of these tribes like as not the
Shawnees and Cherokees. I heard, before I left home,

that the Cherokees had been called together by their
chiefs, and that something out of the common was
going on among them. Tears to me though them
as
camps yonder was likely to be small bodies of one

tribe or another within signalling distance of each other,
on the lookout for the fellers they are after. If Boone

and his people are over there," he added, " I would not
give much for their scalps."
" Boone
is smart enough to take care of himself, and
whoever he has got with him," said Rafe, who did not
" Be-
exactly like the way in which Brownell spoke.
sides himself he has no one with him except Mr. Cal-
vert, who will undoubtedly have joined him long before
this."
" "
No, that is so," said the other; the people he took
out with him were all lost or killed."
The manner which Rafe Slaughter had received
in
Brownell's remark about Boone did not escape the at-

tention of the latter, though he had refrained from
showing it. Ever since his discovery of the nature of

the paper he had received from Rose, Rafe had
experi.
enced a feeling with regard to Brownell and his com-
panion, which, while he could not exactly define it, or
DANIEL BOONE. 333
term it
suspicion, was of a character to weaken his con-
fidence in them ;
and in fact, though almost involun-
tarily, he watched them both closely. The change in
his opinions, although without his intending it, had in-
fluenced his manner, and Brownell, who was sharp to

perceive anything of that nature, did not fail to discov-
er it.
After leaving Rafe on the present occasion, he re-

turned to the end of the cave, where he and Hunter
were to sleep and, throwing himself down beside the
;
latter, he said, in a low voice and grumbling tone :
"
I don't like the way that long-armed, bandy-legged
fellow talks to me, and I ain't satisfied with the whole
business, just now. This being cooped-up here in a
hole, because he is afraid to let his women folks be out
in the open air for fear they might catch cold or some-
thing don't suit me."
" But don't would be risky to keep on
you think it
"
while those Indians are about ? asked Hunter.
"
Indians be hanged ! It's a wild-goose chase, any-
how. Like as not, the scalps of Boone and that other
fellow is hanging in some warrior's belt these six months
past. I am getting sick of this whole move, and ain't
sure that I won't go away, and travel back to the set-
tlements."
" What did "
you come here anyhow ? asked the
for,
other, turning his face toward him " you have never
;
told me."
Brownell did not say anything for a moment, and
then he replied :
"
Well, I going to tell you not now, anyhow
ain't
there is too many ears around here but perhaps to-mor

;
row, if I
get the chance to speak to you, and you prom-
ise to hold your tongue, I will tell you something."
The other said nothing, but appearing to be contented
with this answer, turned over on his side, and in a few
moments was sound asleep a condition which had been
reached by most of the other occupants of the cave

some time before.
During the following day Rafe had a close watch

kept of the immediate neighborhood ofr the cave. The
men were moving about singly in the woods, preserving
by the deer
a careful inspection of the paths frequented
and other animals on their way to the water, and by
which natural ways any travelers would be passing.
The women were not confined to the cave, though
they kept themselves secluded from any possible ob-
servation from the other side of the river. Once dur-
ing the day Rafe Slaughter saw a party of fifteen or
twenty Indians on that side come down to the edge of
the water, at a spot which was evidently a favorite resort
of buffaloes and other animals ;
but after gazing about
them for a while, up and down the river, they retired.
Carefully regarding Rafe's injunctions not to expose
themselves where they could be seen from the other
side of the river, Maude and Mademoiselle amused
themselves by strolling about the immediate vicinity
of the cave, and were accompanied by Rose, with Mike
to take care of all of them. The others were never
more than a few hundred yards away, where a single
DANIEL BOONS. 335
cry would reach their ears, and call them, if there was
any necessity.
This delay and inactivity hung heavily on Maude's
hands, after the first interest of their introduction to the
cave had passed away. Her thoughts were with her lover,
and now more than ever, since her heart seemed to tell
her that he was not far distant from her. There was no
cause for alarm in her impressions on the contrary,
;
she felt a positive conviction that she was to see Harry
very soon and though she laughed at herself for what

;
seemed to her a childish infatuation, it nevertheless

had its effect, and rendered the present detention more
annoying.
She amused by strolling about, picking moss
herself
and a few late flowers and thus engaged, had left quite
;
a distance between herself and the others. Her way

led past the edge of the bluff, at one extremity of which
was the cave. Here she moved
slowly, gathering moss
from the gray rock at her side, but v/as presently star-
tled at hearing voices speaking in a low tone, and, ap-
parently, very near to her.

She was a thoroughly courageous girl, and not easily
startled,and though she thought that none of her own

people had gone in this particular direction, or were
so near to her, she neither ran away nor cried out, but
stood where she was, and listened. In a moment
still
she detected that the words spoken were English, and

the next that the speaker was Brownell.
Her impulse was to move in the direction whence
first
the sound proceeded but then the name of Rafe

;
Slaughter, coupled with an adjective which was not

complimentary, changed her purpose. Just before her,
at her left hand, the bluff terminated abruptly, and it
was from around the corner thus formed that the sound
of voices proceeded.
With noiseless steps she drew near, and ensconced

herself behind a projecting fragment of rock, where she
was hidden perfectly, and would be, even if the speaker
and the one whom he addressed should suddenly con-
clude to return to the cave. In this position she heard
at length what occurred between the two, of whom the
other was Hunter.
"
Well, you may like it, but I don't," were the first
words she heard, spoken by the latter. " This is an ugly
job you have got on hand, and if it was me, I would
not have anything to do with it."
" "
Well, you," growled the other,
it isn't and you
needn't have anything to do with it, except to hold
your tongue and if you ever should take it into your

;
head not to do that, I would put you out of the way,

on my own account, quicker than I would this fellow
on Stephen Roberts'."
"How much are
you going to get for the job?"
a^ked Hunter, paying no attention to this threat.
'
That is none of your business. It will be enough
to set me up for the rest of my life, or I would not un*
dertake it."
He paused an instant, and then, apparently thinking

his manner might be improved, he added :
"
I have taken you into this thing, and if you don't
DANIEL BOONE. 33;
peach on me, and will help me in the little you will

have to do, I will see that you get a good share, and
you know me well enough to be sure I will keep my
word."
"
Yes, you ain't given to lying to your friends, I ad-
mit, but I ain't going to bloody my hands for Steve
Roberts, nor you neither."
"
Nobody asked you to. I can attend to that part
of it myself. What I shall want you to do, if I want
you to will simply be to back me up in case
do anything,
I should be clumsy about it which ain't likely and it
should come to a general rumpus. If we are smart,
even if that should
happen, we could get away with a
few hard knocks, and there ain't anybody in this crowd
as can find you and me in the woods."
" "
Oh, well said Hunter " if that
! is all you want,
you can count on me. I won't peach, and I will back
you up there is my hand on it."
There was silence for a moment, and then Maude

heard the two move as though to leave the spot where
they were. Fortunately for her, they did not pass her
place of hiding on their return to the cave, but went
straight into the woods and when Maude had found
;
her way back to where she had left the others, they
presently came in with Thomas Hardeman and Rafe, all,
apparently, on the best of terms.

Maude was almost ready to believe that her ears had
deceived her, so straightforward and friendly was the
manner of these two men, as, indeed, it had been from
the beginning of their association.
'5
338
She was determined to tell Rafe what she had heard,

but a complication of circumstances prevented her do-
ing so. It was now late in the afternoon, and Rafe
almost immediately left the others to go out on watch ;
from this duty he did not return until nightfall, and

then, aftei having eaten his supper, he went immedi-
ately forth again for the same purpose, accompanied by
Indian John. As the women had now to retire to their
own apartment, Maude perceived, with considerable
anxiety, that she would have no opportunity to confer
with Rafe until the following day.
For some hours, under the influence of her agitated
reflections on the discovery of treachery among them,
sleep absolutely refused to visit her. Over and over

again she revolved in her mind the conversation she
had overheard. While she was satisfied from the nat-
ure of it that some bloody deed was contemplated by
Brownell, she could not be quite certain as to its ob-
ject, though, from the fact of Rafe Slaughter's name
having been the only one she had heard, her apprehen-
sions were naturally turned in his direction.
Her constant association with Rafe had greatly in-
creased her respect and regard for him, and now she
viewed his character with real affection as well as ad-
miration. To her the idea that the danger which he

had was impending over him, now
intuitively felt
shadowed him with such nearness and directness, was
positively appalling. Lying thus engaged in gloomy
reflections, while her two companions were sleeping
peacefully near her, the hours passed by.

DANIEL BOONE. 339
It was nearing midnight, when a loud cry from^vith-

out, again repeated, roused the occupants of the cave.
Rafe and Indian John were on the watch, and, on
hearing the cry, Hardeman, Brownell, and the othef
two men sprang from their sleep, and seizing their
rifles, rushed from the cave to succor their comrades,

who they divined must be in peril, and the cries their
call for help.
Emerging from the underbrush which sheltered the

entrance, the ears of the four men were startled by a
shrill
war-whoop, and they knew that their hiding-place
had been discovered by their dreaded foe. At that mo-
ment a dark figure came running toward them. It was
Rafe.
" Into the cave " "
! into the cave ! he cried, as quick
?s possible. The Indians are upon us."

The others turned to follow his advice, but it was too
late.
Through the thick shadow of the bushes, illuminated
only a by the stars, they could see a dozen or

little
more dark figures, and at once recognized how hopeless

it would be to retreat. Raising their rifles, all four
fired at once into the mass of hurrying figures, and with
good effect.
The charge was

stopped, the Indians evidently being
thunderstruck at meeting with such prompt resistance
to their attack ;
but it was only for a moment.
They came onagain, but now Rafe, who had not yet
fired, brought one of the foremost to the ground, and
then he and Thomas Hardeman, who were provided with

340 Till-: LIFE AND TIMES OF
pistols, discharged these, apparently with good effect,
thus enabling the others to gain access into the cave,

whither they retreated, and proceeded immediately to
reload, supposing that they would be followed by the
other two.
But before Rafe and Hardeman could succeed in
reaching the entrance, a sudden rush was made by the
Indians, and though Rafe and his friend fought vali-

antly, striking right and left with the butt ends of their
rifles, it was apparent that the unequal contest could
not last many minutes.
Indeed, a few of the Indians were already sneaking

around to get behind them, and in another moment
their lives would have been forfeited, when suddenly,
and as it seemed from three different points, loud

shouts were heard, and at the same moment the dis-
charge of apparently a number of guns announced the

interposition of help.
The Indians, thus unexpectedly attacked, and in doubt
by how many new foes, drew back, hesitated a moment,
and then, with loud cries of rage and alarm, precipi-
tately fled.
Rafe dropped the butt of his rifle on the ground, and,
drawing a long breath, exclaimed :
" "
For God's sake, who can that be !
At the same moment the others, who had now re
loaded their rifles, appeared from the cave.
And then, from three directions, could be seen the

forms of three men emerging from the woods.
As they drew near, Rafe shouted, " Who's there?"
DANIEL BOONE. 341
"
A stentorian voice replied, " Friends ! and as the
speaker, the foremost of the three, advanced, in the dim
Rafe " DANIEL
light recognized him, and, crying,
"
BOONE sprang forward and grasped the hardy
!
hunter by both hands as he welcomed him, and

thanked him for his timely appearance.
The noise of the fight had long before this brought
Maude and Mademoiselle to as near the mouth of the
cave as they dared to approach.
By the various movements and sounds which she

heard, Maude had dimly divined that some interposition
from outside had brought safety to their party ;
and
crouching down by the mouth of the cave, she listened
intently.
Suddenly her ear caught Rafe's enthusiastic cry of,

" "
DANIEL BOONE !
In an instant the girl darted from the cave, and fly-
ing past the excited group before it, and past Daniel
Boone himself, she sprang, as though recognizing the
dark figure by instinct, into the arms of the second of
the three men, who had now just reached the scene.
It was indeed Harry.
The excitement meeting, after months of
of this
weary waiting and anxiety, overcame the girl with a

flood of irrepressible feeling and, bowing her head
;
upon his shoulder as he clasped her close to his breast,
she wept aloud in an agony of passionate delight and

uncontrollable love.
Still holding her closely to him, Harry received the
salutations of Rafe and Thomas Hardeman, to which
were speedily added the enthusiastic demonstrations of
Mike Dooley, who danced about in a wild outburst of
excitement, while Mademoiselle Raimonde and Rose

were not behindhand in their expressions of the general
joy-
But, turning suddenly to Rafe, as he stood eagerly
asking and answering questions, Daniel Boone said :
" Who were those two men who

stood here as I
"
came up ?
Rafe looked about him ;

and then, surprised at not
seeing them, replied :
"
Why, they must have been Brownell and Hunter."
" Brownell " "
and Hunter !
repeated Boone ;
how
"
came they here with you ?
" said Rafe, " they joined us a few
weeks ago
Oh," ;
and have been very useful and obliging, besides strength-

ening our party two or three times, when we should
have been badly off without them."
" Brownell and "
Hunter Boone again repeated
! ;
"
why, these two men were with the crowd that first
captured me as I was going home with my boy Jimmy
"
from Hillsborough !
The others stood astounded while to Maude, who, ;
as we have told, had not yet communicated her own

knowledge concerning them to any one, the statement
was a revelation.
" But "
where are they ? cried Rafe ;
and the others
shouted aloud the names of these two, who had disap-
peared as though they had been swallowed up by the

earth.
DANIEL BOONE. 343
No answer came back, and though an immediate

search of the cave and the neighborhood was made
they were not to be found.
"
They got away when they saw me," said Boonc
quietly, after the search had been given up, " and they
did well."
Whatever may have been their reasons for departure,
Brownell and Hunter were not seen again.

CHAPTER XXIII.
The death of Indian John. The mode of travel is changed, giving an oppor-
tunity for reflection, which is taken advantage of by certain of the character!
of our story. The travelers reach the last stage of their journey.
A FURTHER examination of the number of those
present, after the absence of Brownell and Hunter had

been discovered, disclosed the fact that there was still
one missing the Indian guide, who had been out with
Rafe and Hardeman, and, as they had supposed, had
come in when the sudden appearance of the Indians
had alarmed all three. No one had seen him since,
however, and a search was accordingly at once insti-
tuted for his body, it being rightly judged that, if he

had been he would have made his appearance, or
alive,
would have responded when their calls were made for
the two missing frontiersmen. After a search which
lastedsome minutes, and in which all the men were en-
gaged, Mike Dooley cried out, as he stumbled over
something, and fell prostrate :
" Tearan'
ages here is somebody's corpus."
!
The others at once joined him, and on Boone strik-
ing a light from his tinder-box, it was discovered that

the body over which Mike Dooley had fallen, was really
that of the unfortunate guide, who was stone dead,
with a bullet through his heart ; while the work had
(344)
DANIEL BOONE. 345
been completed by the Indians, for his scalp had been

taken.
"
That shows one thing," said Boone.
"
And what is that ?" asked Harry.
"
Why, you were not
that the fellows that attacked
Cherokees, as I had supposed if they had been, al-

;
though they might have shot this man, either by acci-

dent or intentionally considering him a deserter from
the tribe, still they would not have scalped him. These
must have been Shawnees."
The bodies of six or eight of their assailants were
lying about at different points, where they had fallen

beneath the fire of the white men. An examination of
these confirmed his opinion that they were certainly
Shawnees. Indian John was regretted as a faithful
servant ;
his position the party had been a very
among
modest and quiet one, but he had not the less fulfilled
his duty in every particular. There was no time to
bury him, as they would have wished to do, and he was
accordingly left where he fell.
judged by Boone to be advisable that
It was, indeed,
a movement should be made at once away from their
present locality. The Indians were not unlikely to
keep a lookout after they had got over their first alarm,
and would very probably return in force. In this opin-
ion Rafe Slaughter concurred, as did the others. That
there might be no misunderstanding thereafter, Rafe
requested Boone to assume the direction of the party

during their return journey, which the hunter, after dc
murring a little, consented to do.
Their various luggage was now quickly put together,
and the men having shouldered their knapsacks, and
giving such aid to the women
was necessary to en-
as
able them to move rapidly through the woods in the
darkness, they were soon making speedy progress in the

direction whither lay all their desires. Dawn soon broke,
and when the sun rose, they were several miles away from
the scene of their late exciting combat and reunion.
While looking for a convenient place at which to
camp and take breakfast, Boone suddenly discovered
on the stream immediately under the bank, and tied to
trees, three birch-bark canoes,with paddles in them.
They had evidently been left there by some small

band of Indians ;
and as these might be near by, and
the use of the canoes would greatly facilitate their
movements, breakfast was postponed for the time be-

ing, and the party at once stowed themselves away
in the canoes. Boone, Hardeman, and Mademoiselle
Raimonde taking the first one ; Harry, Maude, and the
negro girl the second ;
and Rafe, Squire Boone, and
Mike Dooley the third. Thus embarked they proceeded
to paddle up the stream, a task which, there being little
current, was not in the least difficult.
They now made rapid and Boone, who

progress,
knew the nature of the waters they were navigating,
stated that they would be able to travel at least thirty
or forty miles by this mode, thus saving much fatigue,
besides effecting a change in their mode of transporta-
tion, which was eminently agreeable, especially to the

ladies.
DANIEL BOONS. 347
After paddling for an hour, a point was selected

where they could stop for breakfast, and all disem-
barked for that purpose. While they were eating
they had an opportunity for a general conversation
regarding recent events, which their hurried move-
ments and after-separation in the canoes had hitherto
prevented.
"
By the way, Boone," said Rafe, after the hunter
and Harry had related their adventures briefly, " how
did you come by the rifles with which you did such
execution last night, when you were left without arms
"
on the occasion of your escape ?
" I
was going to ask that question myself," said
"
Maude, for it did not seem likely, although a kind
Providence might bring you almost, as it were, out of
the ground, to our rescue, that the same power would
also arm and equip you for the purpose."
" I had forgotten about that," said Boone,
"
and it
was too ridiculous and unexpected not to be remem-

bered ;
but I think Ihave talked long enough, and Mr
Calvert can tell you about it."
"
Harry thus appealed to, laughed, and said Well, :
you must know we were several days without arms, and

actually did have to rely upon such wild fruits and edi-
ble roots as we could get about in the woods. If I had

been alone, I would have starved to death, but Boone
and his brother could find something to eat under
almost every plant that grows in this region, I think.
I had no idea before how many roots there were that
really don't make bad eating for a hungry man."
" You must have been very hungry, I think, to want
to eat them," said Maude.
" we
did get hungry from time to time," re-
Well,
" but
plied Harry, they are not disagreeable, I can as-
sure you ;
quite as good as raw turnips and carrots
some of them, to say the least. But we got rifles and
ammunition, as it happened, from the very party that
surprised you ;
and the way of it was this :
"
We were marching along in the early morning
for I assure you made us
that hunger rise before the
sun when we suddenly came upon a considerable
camp, which must certainly have been of those very

Indians.
"
It was just at the time of day when they probably
feltmost secure, and relaxed their vigilance. Anyhow,
there was not a man of them awake out of about
thirty warriors, and Boone, having satisfied himself of

this, crawled on his hands and knees into the midst of
them, and selected three rifles, with powder and balls,
returning safely to us with his booty.

" You may be sure that we did not lose any time in
getting away from that locality. We made a wide cir-
cuit ; and to that

fact, and to our having been captured
and brought to this side of the river, is due our appear-
ance in time to save and unite with you."
The glance which passed between Maude and Harry
at these words, and the heightened color of the girl,
showed that they at least of the party fully estimated

the incident at its true value. All laughed at the suc-
cessful stratagem, and congratulated themselves on the
DANIEL BOONE. 349
happy accident which had done such good service to

all of them.
The story of Boone's party having been related, Rafe
briefly outlined that of those whom he had under his
charge; and this being concluded, and the question of

Brownell and Hunter's disappearance coming up, Maude
took the opportunity to tell the story of the conversation
she had overheard. Her relation was listened to close-
ly,and made a deep impression on all who heard it.

After she had finished, Boone said "
Well, these :
fellows are, either of them, equal to any villainous con-

trivance, but I could easily recognize in this one the
hand Stephen Roberts. There is no doubt in my
of
mind that he arranged the plot by which his men suc-
ceeded in capturing and imprisoning me and this man ;
Brownell was with the original gang, although he and

one or two others left them as soon as they had safely
placed me where I was found. Why he should now
have it in his mind to do anything to Mr. Slaughter, I
can not imagine ;

nor why Stephen Roberts should
have anything against him. Perhaps you will under-
"
stand that," he continued, addressing Rafe, better
than I will."
Rafe Slaughter had been a silent, but attentive list-
ener to Maude's story, and Boone's comments. He

remembered the paper which he still had in his posses-
sion that had been found by Rose, and given to him,

and which contained his name and that of Harry Cal-
vert. He had kept silence hitherto with regard to this
paper, and he determined still to do so ;
and this not
on account of himself, but because of the complication
of his friend with his own possible fate, as this was af-
fected by the strange circumstances which had occurred.

All he said now in answer to Boone's last observation,
"
I don't know why this man Roberts should think
was :
he had anything against me. I don't even know him,
though I have seen him a number of times and I cer- ;
tainly have never done or said anything to harm him."

" He "
impressed me," observed Harry, at my inter-
view with him, as being an unscrupulous and at the
same time shrewd and capable man. I know I thought
at the time that I should hate to have him for an
enemy though I will say that

;
his treatment of me
was courteous, and not in the least unfriendly. Of
course he did not disclose to me what I desired to
learn, but that was in his own interest, and I can't
blame him."
Having lingered longer than was actually necessary
over their breakfast, while engaged in discussing the
exciting events which had happened to all of them,

Boone now gave the word to proceed and, entering ;
the canoes, they continued their journey by the river,
paddling all that day. The evening found them yet in

comparatively still water, and as this mode of progres-
sion seemed to promise the most security from inter-
ruption on the part of straggling bands of Indians,
Boone determined to continue their journey by the
same means through the night.
They landed for supper, of which they partook in
the twilight, and at which they had fresh meat for the
DANIEL BOONE. 351
first time in several days. It was considered safe for
them to use their rifles in their present situation, and a
fat buck being discovered coming down to the water

to drink, Boone mortally wounded him with a single
shot, and then paddling quickly to his side, where he
was struggling in the water, drew his knife across his
throat, and dragged the body ashore.
Venison steaks had begun to appear a luxury to the
travelers, and haste was now made to kindle a fire, and
partake of the treat. Ameal having been

satisfactory
dispatched, they returned to their canoes, and pro-

ceeded on their way.
The stream was at this point several hundred yards
wide, the banks overhung with tall trees and shrubbery,
that indicated the beginning of the dense forest beyond.
The sky was brilliant with stars : the air cool and invig-
orating, but not chilly; and under the influence of their

surroundings, and cheered by their reflections on their
happy reunion, and the prospect of a speedy return to
civilization, the progress of the travelers was both rapid
and enjoyable.
To Maude, especially, there had come a spirit of calm
content and tranquillity.
Reclining at one end of the canoe, she watched the

form of her lover outlined against the brilliant sky, as
with deft and muscular strokes he propelled the light
boat with his paddle. The recollection of the trials
and dangers through which she had passed seemed grad-
ually fading from her mind. True love, when satisfied
by the possession, if only temporarily, of its object, is a
quick obliterator of the memory of past sorrows and
disappointments.
But little conversation passed between them, but
even their silence was eloquent. Harry Calvert,
strengthened and ennobled by his recent experiences,
ound a wise satisfaction in reflecting with honest pride
that he was more worthy of the girl he loved after these
experiences, than he had been before.

The prime object of Boone's journey, so far as the
Judge Anderson and his friends was concern-
interest of
ed, Harry knew had been satisfactorily effected.
Although it has not been deemed necessary to make

special reference to the fact, the reader is not to sup-
pose that the peregrinations of these two had consisted

only in looking for the party which had followed them
into the woods or in aimless travel from day to
;
day.
Never had the design of the undertaking been lost
sight of for a moment.

The country through which they passed had been
thoroughly explored by Boone and his companion, and
both were prepared to make such a report to Judge
Anderson, when they should see him, as should confirm
previous opinions with regard to that territory, and his
own conclusions as to locating there.
All of this passed through Harry's mind as he sat in
the canoe, propelling it easily and gracefully in the
wake of the one in which was his late companion.
Meanwhile, the and tender glances, which the
soft
starlight occasionally permitted him to receive from

DANIEL BOONE. 353
Maude's bright eyes, carried his mind forward to the

possible results of this journey.
In his imagination he already saw himself a landed
proprietor in the midst of the magnificent expanse of

fertile territory which they had traversed successfully
and securely.
Often he had conversed with Daniel Boone on the
subject of the eventual results of their mission ;
and
from him and through his experience he had received
confirmation of his own ideas.
For when Harry would give expression to the doubts

which sometimes suggested themselves to his mind, as
to the possibility of clearing so wide a territory of the
Indians who now infested it, Boone was always ready
with his answer.
Pointing to his own experience on the Yadkin, he

would remind Harry, that when he arrived there, a
mere lad, with his father, that section of the country
was overrun by hostile Indians to quite the same ex-
tent as the locality they had so recently traversed ;
and
yet had been but a few years before their settlement
it
was followed by others, and the hostile natives had

become peaceable and friendly.
either to migrate or to
Consoled by the remembrance of such conversations

with the experienced hunter and explorer, Harry could
now give rein to hisjmagination, and in his mind's eye
see himself securely established in this now dangerous
countiy, with the girl he loved really his own, and the
successful and happy life of a great planter and land
holder opening up before him in the distance.
While the reflections of Maude and her lover had
been thus rose-colored, those of Rafe Slaughter, who

took turns with Squire Boone in paddling the last of
the three canoes, were of a very different nature.
Notwithstanding the departure of Brownell and Hun-

ter from among them, and the apparent removal of the
danger, which was now recognized, although before un-

known to him ;
there still hung over Rafe's mind the
same cloud of gloomy presentiment which had for so
long a time disturbed him, and which now, as before,

seemed to presage disaster. Reason with himself as he
might, he could not remove this painful impression, and
his thoughts-were consequently sad and disturbing.
Judge Anderson's secretary had, in this period of
close and increasing intimacy with his companions,
grown to regard them with friendship and affection.

Maude he loved more than most men do their sisters,
though with a totally different kind of regard from
that of a lover, while for Harry he felt profound affec-
tion and esteem.

To him the mere thought that presently this excur-
sion would end despite its many dangers and alarm-
ing circumstances the thought that itwas now speed-
ily to close was one that could not but affect him
painfully.
Aware that soon all these persons, who were now
united by a bond of interest and sympathetic commun.
ion, each and all would depart on their several ways

to take up their several threads of life, leaving him to a
great extent out of their future, and alone ;

all of this
DANIEL BOONE. 355
gave him a sensation of impending solitude, which was

to the last degree depressing.
It was almost in the light of consolation that his
mind accepted the prescience of coming evil which

seemed to assure him that a kind Providence might at
east find a way for him to escape a future which
seemed to no compensation adequate for the
offer loss
which the present, almost, had in store for him.

There were, too, crossing Rafe Slaughter's mind,
thoughts and intentions, dimly outlined, to which he
had never yet given voice.
The secret history of his past life, as he supposed, was
unknown to any, at least in this part of the world, but
himself ;
and so the designs which he had formed, and
now cherished as the only bright hope to illuminate his
future : these were also locked within his own breast,
and gave him ample food for reflection.
There were links in the chain of circumstances which
united him with certain of his companions, the exist-
ence of which was unknown to them ;
and he was now
impressed with the necessity of strengthening these,
and of at least initiating the purposes which it was
essential should be carried out in order to achieve this
end.
As he paused for a moment in directing the course
of the canoe to rest himself and change his position,

he instinctively placed his hand in the pocket of the
waistcoat which he wore under his hunting-shirt, and felt
there two papers One, the fragment which had been
:
given to him by Rose ; the other a larger and thicket

356
sheet,whose folded proportions he carefully outlined

with his fingers, as he had done many times before, to
satisfy himself of its safety.

What that paper contained was a secret which still
rested alone in the

knowledge Rafe Slaughter.
of
While the personages whose thoughts we have been

analyzing were thus engaged, the progress of the ca-
noes had been speedy, and the nature of the stream
up which they were being propelled had materially

changed.
The current had become more rapid, the width of
the stream had lessened, and shallows occasionally
appeared ;
and large boulders, seemingly dropped in
the midst of the water, impeded their progress, while
the stream dashed with considerable force between
them. Careful steering was now necessary, and this
was aided by the dawn which had begun to break.
By this time Maude and Mademoiselle were sleeping
profoundly in their several canoes, while Rose had been
snoring loudly almost from the beginning of the trip.

Mike Dooley, too, after sundry comments on the In-
dian method of river travel, which was new to him
these being delivered in the choicest and most original
phrases of his vernacular he also had succumbed to

the drowsy god, and was adding his mite of nasal elo-
quence to render still more musical the concerted

pieces which were being executed by the bull-frogs
and owls.
The other men of the party had kept awake
only ;
those not engaged in paddling occasionally

dozing a
DANIEL BOONE. 357
little. As the obstructions in the way increased, and

navigation began to appear even dangerous, Boone de-
cided to give up and take to the shore again. They
it
accordingly paddled in to the land, where there ap-

peared to be a favorable spot for that purpose, and
disembarked.
It was by this time sunrise, and a hurried meal from
a portion of the venison which they had brought with
them, soon placed the travelers in a condition to pro-

ceed on their march with revived strength and energy.
Boone judged that they were now but about a day's
journey from the pass through which he purposed go-
ing, and in their progress toward which they had already
reached a point nearly at the foot of the Cumberland
range, whose elevated peaks now towered high above

them.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Aniid the sublimest efforts of Nature, in rugged rock and riven mountain-
chain, our travelers pursue their way, joyfully. Then, all is changed ; and
lingering by the bank of a chance stream, the blow falls ; their happiness is
turned to mourning, and Rafe Slaughter's premonitions come to pass.
THE Cumberland mountains, a spur of the Appala-

chian range, dividing Kentucky from Virginia, and ex-
tending into Tennessee, present some of the most pict-

uresque scenery in America.
The general appearance of this mountain range is
that of a somewhat level plateau lying about two thou-

sand feet above the sea, and broken at intervals by lofty
peaks and abrupt bluffs and promontories.
At certain points the range is intersected by passes,
or as they are termed, "gaps," through which are the
only convenient means of passage from one side to the

other. Of these passes, that known as Cumberland
Gap, near the southern extremity of the range, was
the earliest used, and has always been the most fre-
quented.
Here was the customary road followed by the Chero-
kees in the earliest times, and this was also adopted by
the traders who
penetrated the southwest, following
the pioneers and frontiersmen who
opened up this sec-
tion of country.
(358)
DANIEL BOONE. 359
The course being pursued by our party, now so con-
siderably increased in strength if not in numbers, was

in the direction of a pass extending through the mount-
ains at a point about eighty miles north of Cumberland
Gap.
As Boone had anticipated, a single day's journey
brought them to the entrance to this pass. It was but
little frequented, and that little only by the Indians
and occasionally a few traders.
Entering it from the west the route assumed at once
a steepness of incline and a wild and romantic aspect,
which as the travelers progressed grew to be grand in
the extreme.
The pathway, which was but little improved from its
natural configuration, extended along the side of a pre-
cipitous rocky declivity, and above it on either hand

almost perpendicular masses of rock towered many hun-
dred and in some instances several thousand feet in the
air. In all directions the characteristics of the scene
were gloomy and almost solemn. There was but little
verdure and no vegetation, excepting here and there
clumps of rugged ash or hickory trees, while, on either

hand, rocks in massive and uncouth shapes disputed
the way.
Alternately climbing and descending as the available

pathway varied in its incline, the labor of this part o.
the journey was irksome, although, of course, every
assistance was given by the men to the women in their
charge.
To Harry Calvert it was a delight to render the serv-
360
ice to Maude which was so constantly required, while
the tedious and toilsome character of the journey be-

came changed to her mental vision until it assumed
the nature of a holiday jaunt in which she felt herself
sustained and aided by the sympathetic association

which grew more delightful with every moment of her
enjoyment of it.
Two days were occupied in the passage of this gap ;
one night being passed within its limits. It was about

noon on the third day when the tired travelers emerged
from the pass and entered the Province of Virginia.
During that afternoon and night they encamped at the
foot of the mountains, resting and regaining strength
for the remainder of their journey.
On the following morning all were up betimes, much
refreshed, and as each felt more and more anxious to
reach the settlements, as each day brought these nearer
to them, there was no delay, but an early start was
effected and rapid progress made.
The line of march was still through a rugged coun-
try ; but, after what they had so recently passed, was
comparatively easy. On the second day after leaving
the pass they arrived, toward sundown, on the banks
of the Clinch River, where they encamped for the
night.
was not yet dusk, and while the camp was being
It
prepared and the fire built, Rafe Slaughter, who for the
last few days had been more than usually oppressed by
the gloomy frame of mind which had so much influ-
enced him of late, left the others of the party, and

DANIEL BOONE. 361
strolled a short distance along the bank of the river
wrapped in his own melancholy thoughts. A good

deal overcome by these, at length he threw himself on
the ground at the foot of a large tree,. and gazed list-
lessly into the water.

Thus preoccupied he saw and heard nothing of what
was proceeding about him.
He did not hear the crackling of the underbrush be-
hind him, as though by the stealthy movement of some
one in his direction. He did not see the crouching form
of one who approached him, his steps carefully meas-
ured and adjusted to produce the least noise possible.

The man was clad in the ordinary garb of a hunter.
In his right hand he held his hunting-knife, with his
left he carefully pushed aside the overhanging boughs
that might impede his progress, or by breaking or
cracking announce his presence.Despite all his care

the sound of his approach would have undoubtedly
reached the usually quick ear of Judge Anderson's sec-
retary but for the engrossed state of his mind.

The man was Brownell.
His face was pale and his jaws set as though with
determination, and now there was an expression in his
countenance brutal and malign, which one seeing would
have declared to have been his natural aspect, rathei
than the hearty and friendly appearance which he gen-
erally assumed.
Thus crouching and creeping, and guarding himseli
from discovery, he approached nearer and nearer, until
his lefthand rested upon the tree against which Rnfo
16
362
leaned. For a few seconds he stood perfectly still

Then, bending his form about the tree, he raised his
right hand in the air. In a moment
the blow fell. The
bng bright, sharp blade flashed for an instant,

and then
it was buried to the handle in the bosom of his victim.
Rafe Slaughter possessed a vigorous constitution and

a powerful physique. This was a death-blow, yet he had
strength to rise and turn about, while he clung to the

tree with his right arm for support. The movement
was instantaneous, and brought him face to face with
his slayer.
Then a shrill cry broke from his

blood gurgled lips,
from his mouth, and sinking gradually down, he fell in

a heap, prostrate at the foot of the tree.
Certain that his work was completed, and fearful lest
the cry of themurdered man, though it was not a loud

one, should have been heard, the murderer left the spot
and fled through the woods to where his companion
was awaiting him holding in his hands their two rifles.
" Give me "
my gun and hurry cried Brownell as he
!
reached him.
" Is "
it done ? said the other, as he extended his rifle
toward him.
" "
Of course it is done, you infernal fool !
Andthen the two with rapid steps pushed along the
path which lay before them, but only for a few moments.
Suddenly, on turning a sharp corner, to their aston-
ishment and alarm they found themselves confronted
by a number of horsemen.
The unexpectedness of the meeting startled both of
DANIEL BOONS. 363
them out of their equanimity, and their manner was so

thoroughly disturbed and terror-stricken, that the rider
in advance of the party, seeing that they were about to
evade him, sprang from his horse and ordered them to

halt.
was Judge Anderson, who, seizing Brownell by

It
the arm in his powerful grasp, shouted :
"
Cover them both with your rifles. This fellow has
got blood on him, and I don't like the looks of them,
anyway."
At this moment Brownell recovered himself, and with
a sudden spring sought to break from the grasp of his
captor ;
but the Judge was a large man and a strong
one, and he had expected this movement. Seizing

him by the throat with both hands, he bore him to the
ground, where he held him firmly despite his struggles,
now grown fierce and determined as the extent of his
upon him.
real peril flashed
Meanwhile the two younger men of Anderson's party

had leaped from their horses and seized Hunter, who
at once begged for mercy, crying out :
" me me I have done

Gentlemen, spare !
spare !
"
nothing. Brownell is the man !
" "
Brownell ! cried Anderson and the Squire in one
voice.
" " "
Good God ! Then I am too
said Anderson.
late, after all. Here, hold this villain, some of you,

while I go and search for his victim. Where is he,
"
you infernal cowardly hound ? he cried to Hunter, as
Brownell was being tied by the others.
"
Only a few rods back there at the left by the
river," said Hunter, emitting the words with difficulty,
as Judge Anderson had clutched him by the throat, and

was nearly choking him to death.
Spurning him to one side, and leaving him to the care
of those who had already bound his companion, the
Judge ran rapidly in the direction Hunter had pointed

out.
But very little search brought him to the spot, and

he came upon poor Rafe's body still lying where he had
fallen.
Lifting his unfortunate friend in his arms, with his

head leaning on his shoulder, Judge Anderson could
not restrain the tears which welled up to his eyes as he
saw by Rafe's pallid countenance that if not dead, he
must be very near it.
Placing his hand under his hunt-
ing-shirt he felt a slight beating of the heart, and draw-
ing from his pocket a flask of spirits, he poured a little
through his clenched teeth and down his throat.

The unfortunate man gasped and struggled a little,
but the effect was to revive him, and in a moment he

opened his eyes, and, looking about wildly, presently
turned them upon Judge Anderson, who was leaning
forward gazing fixedly at him. A
smile of recognition
faintly illumined his face, and he pressed the hand of
the Judge to show that he knew him.
The noise and confusion of the struggle with Brown-
ell and Hunter had been heard in the camp, which was
only a short distance away.
Maude was the first to notice it, and also to observe
DANIEL BOONE. 365
that Rafe was not with them. Rising to her feet where
she sat inspecting the preparations for supper, she turned
to Harry, and cried :
" do
Oh, Harry !
you hear those shouts ? I fear
something has happened to Rafe."

And then, suddenly, the whole memory of her kind
premonitions surged through her mind,

friend's recent
and she wrung her hands and burst into tears.

Harry had long before this noticed Rafe's serious and
preoccupied manner, and Maude had explained to him
its cause.
For the moment, impressed with and sharing her
fears, he seized his rifle, and followed by Boone and
Hardeman, flew in the direction whence the sounds

had seemed to come. He followed the course taken
by Rafe when he left the camp, and this brought him
presently to the scene of the tragedy.

By this time Squire O'Brien had joined the Judge,
and both were endeavoring to revive Rafe, who had
not yet been able to speak ;
so that as Harry Calvert
came up, to his astonishment he found himself in the
presence of his uncle and the Judge, whom he had
supposed to be many miles away at their respective
homes.
But the surprise at this meeting was lost in horror
at the sight of his friend stretched on the ground, and
evidently with his life-blood rapidly ebbing away.

Very few words were spoken between them, and
while Harry returned to prepare Maude for the terrible
catastrophe which had occurred, the others lifted Rafe

3 66
from the ground and bore him carefully and tenderly to

the camp.
The agony of sorrow and regret that came over poor
Maude when she saw that the presentiment of her un-
happy friend had come true, was terrible to witness.
She did not, however, lose her presence of mind, but
with all assiduity devoted herself to such measures as
were suggested, with the faint h<%>e of possibly saving
his life.
It speedily became evident, however, that this could

not be. His pulse was momentarily failing, and it was
plain that he could last but a while longer.
little
In this extremity, and seeming to see in the sad and

tender gaze of those who stood about ministering to
him that his end was near, Rafe Slaughter made one
effort.
Exerting all his remaining strength, he moved his

right hand toward his left side, the outer clothing having
been opened to admit of proper attention to his wound,
and seemed endeavoring to reach the pocket in his vest
on that side. Perceiving the movement, Judge Ander-
son said :
" Is there
anything in your pocket that you wish to
"
have removed from it ?
Rafe nodded and dropped his hand feebly where it
was.
The Judge inserted his hand in the place indicated,
and drew therefrom the two papers to which we have

already alluded.
" "
Are these what you mean, Rafe ? he said, gently.
DANIEL BOONE. 367
Rafe nodded again, and then with a superhuman

spoke these words feebly and disjointedly
effort :
" I
acknowledge that paper to be my last
will and testament. My name is not Rafe
"
Slaughter but Gabriel Herron !
He paused for an instant, and then raising his right
hand a little, he continued :
" "
Maude and Harry God bless you !
The two to whom he had last addressed himself were
leaning above him, Harry supporting Maude with his
arm about her waist, and both weeping bitterly.

As the appeal to his Maker left his lips, the soul of
him who been known to these his friends as Rafe
Slaughter, departed his body. His head fell heavily
back on Judge Anderson's breast, and he was dead.
CHAPTER XXV.
In which Rafe Slaughter's last will and testament is read
;
and the production
and perusal of certain other documents, explain some of the mysteries which
have infested this narrative. The murderei plays his last card, and, failing
of success, exposes certain complications of interest. The friends of Rafe
Slaughter bid him farewell.
TiIE terrible calamity which had now befallen our
friends, so recently happily reimited after their length-

ened separation, this catastrophe, so unexpected,
could not but affect the spirits of all of the members
of the little association of pioneers.
Now that Rafe Slaughter was gone from among them,

every one of his associates felt a special and individual
loss and corresponding grief.
There was not one but had some recollection con-

cerning some kind act or attention of their deceased
friend. His ever-present sense of responsibility the ;
care and judgment which he had exercised in conduct-
ing the party so successfully amid so many trials and

dangers the prompt and certain bravery which had
;
characterized him when danger actually appeared the ;
unfailing thoughtfulness and consideration for others ;
and the unflagging good -humor and fortitude with

h he had borne his share, and more, of all their
privations : all of these qualities of the leader, associate,

(368)
DANIEL BOONE. 369
and friend, were now recalled to the minds of his late
companions.
For a long time their grief prevented them from con-
sidering any other fact but the terrible one that Rafe
Slaughter was dead.
Lying there, so calm and placid, it was difficult for
them to believe that he was not enjoying the temporary
repose which he had so well earned, anti which he had
so sorely needed.
The camp was a scene of mourning ;
but as the first
recognition of the evil which had befallen them became

more familiar to their minds, another thought was awak-
ened which soon began to exercise its own influence.
A revengeful spirit grew in the hearts of those grieved
ones, and hatred of his murderer mingled with lamen-

tations for the murdered.
Several hours had elapsed, and they were all sitting
about the camp-fire recalling memories of the dead, and
occasionally one or another interjecting a question
concerning the recent movements of the living, when
word was brought by Squire Boone, who, with one of
the young men accompanying Judge Anderson, was
guarding the two prisoners, that Brownell desired
to see Mr. Calvert, on a matter closely concerning
the latter.
At the repugnance which he felt toward the
first,
man, inclined Harry to disregard the request but the ;
others thought it comply with

advisable that he should
it, and he rose from his reclining posture to do so, when

"
Judge Anderson said, Wait a moment, Mr. Calvert.
1 6*
Before you see him, I think it will be well for us first to
examine the contents of poor Rafe's will."
This observation brought fresh to the minds of all,
the astounding intelligence which Rafe had communi-

cated in his last words. So unexpected had this been
that it seemed impossible for any of them to overcome
their old familiarity with the name of Rafe Slaughter,

and to recall tjiat he who bore it was justly entitled to
another, and that he was in reality the lost relative of
Harry Calvert, and the one who had innocently stood in
his place in his uncle's regard.
As these recollections flashed upon his mind, and in
answer to Judge Anderson's suggestion, Harry stopped

where he was standing, shaken by a combination of
conflicting emotions. Perceiving the deep feelings,
whose exhibition the young man sought vainly to re-
press, the Judge said to him kindly:

"
Sit down, my young friend ;
it will only occupy a
few moments, and it has to be gone through with some-
time."
Harry quietly complied with this request, and seated

himself again by his cousin, who softly laid her hand
upon his, signifying by the act that she was with him
in his sorrows as in his joys.
The Judge now drew the paper from his pocket, and
opening it proceeded to read.

The will had been executed in Granville County dur-
ing the period when Rafe for so we shall continue to
call him had been attending to the affairs of Judge An-
derson, while Harry was in Baltimore.
DANIEL BOONE. 371
The act had been kept a profound secret even from
the Judge, although the latter knew well the lawyer

who had drawn up the paper, and the witnesses who
had attested to the signature.
Attached to the will were documents signed by par-
ties residing in the Colonies, fully testifying to the fact
that he who called himself Rafe Slaughter, was in real-
ityno other than Gabriel Herron, the heir of Frederick

Calvert and the executor of the instrument before them.
The will itself, carefully drawn up in the usual form,
and with the customary preamble, exhibited a precise

knowledge of the provisions of the testamentary dispo
sition of the property which had been bequeathed to
Gabriel Herron by his uncle.

The paper also showed that the present testator had
complied with all the essential conditions of law, in re-
gard to a proper declaration before authorized officials,

regarding his rights under the will of the late Frederick
Calvert. All of these preliminaries had been carefully
attended to ;
so carefully indeed, as to draw an invol-
untary remark from Judge Anderson, as to the close-

ness and accuracy with which this instrument was
drawn, and all the necessary provisions of the law com-
plied with.
These having been duly set forth, the will pro-
all
ceeded to bequeath the entire interest of the deceased

in his uncle's property to his cousin Harry Calvert.
The document concluded with a kindly intimation of
the hope of the testator, that his heir might obtain the
fruition of his hopes in a happy marriage with his cous.
in Maude O'Brien ;
as to whom it was thus seen, that
even at this early stage of his acquaintance with her,
the deceased had formed sentiments of profound re-
spect and admiration.

After reading the will, and while those present were
silent, engaged in their own reflections, Judge Ander-
son mechanically opened the small piece of paper which
accompanied it.
Glancing casually over the few lines which were writ-

ten upon this, he uttered an exclamation of surprise.
The others looked at him inquiringly, when he turned
to the Squire and said :
"
O'Brien, have you got with you the letter which
"
was addressed to Brownell ?
There was a movement among those who heard him
ask this question, and a general expression in their
faces of surprise and curiosity. So little had been said
about anything connected with recent occurrences that
this letter had not yet been mentioned.
The Squire drew a wallet from his pocket, and open-
ing it extracted from and handed to Judge Anderson,

it,
the letter in question. Opening it, the Judge scanned

it
carefully, and then appeared to be comparing its
contents with those of the paper before him. Present-
ly he said :
"
This paper is in the handwriting of Stephen Rob-
erts ;
I wonder how it came into poor Rafe's posses-
"
sion !
On hearing these words, Rose, who was sitting a

little distance from the speaker, and who had listened
DANIEL BOONE. 373
eagerly to every word that had been uttered, sprang to

" "
her feet and cried out, know, Massa Judge
I !
All looked at her with amazement, and the Judge

said :
" What do you know about it, my good girl ? "

"
Why, Massa Judge, I found dat paper, one day, eb-
ber so long ago,when it dropped from Massa Brown-
ell's
pocket, and de wind cotched it, an' took it away
down to de bank ob de ribber. I seed it a flyin' an' I
"
runned for it, an' I cotched it, an' just den Massa Rafe
Here the girl's feelings overcame her, for she, like
every one else, had none but kindly recollections of poor

Rafe. Recovering herself in a moment, she continued
in a low, broken voice :
"
Massa Rafe asked me fer de paper, and I gived it
to him, an' he read it an' put it in his pocket, an' tole
me to say nuffin about it to no one, an* I nebber did.
Golly Massa Judge, I'd get cut into inch pieces

! 'fore
I'd done anything Massa Rafe tole me not to do."

The girl burst into sobs and tears, and ran into the
bush, until she should recover command of herself.

" This
paper," said Judge Anderson, slowly and
Rose had got through, " should have
gravely, after
been a warning to poor Rafe." He then read it aloud,
as follows :
"Rafe Slaughter, (i) :

Harry Calvert, (2): Seven
years"
" It did
act as a warning to him," cried out Maude,
" for
it must have been that which
excitedly, gave him
the terrible presentiment of coming danger that has
afflicted him for so many days."
"
Yes," said Hardeman, recalling the conversation
between Maude, Rafe, and himself, " this explains the
extraordinary remarks which he made to Miss O'Brien
and myself one day, when he informed us of his having
experienced these premonitions. Poor fellow ! we lit-
tle thought how unerring was his instinct."

"
Still," interrupted the Squire, who, himself, was,
like Hardeman, no believer in supernatural interposi-
tions of this nature "the presentiment itself is now
explained, by hishaving possession of this memoran-
dum and ; now, Judge," he added, turning to the latter,
" I
understand, as you will, the meaning of that letter."
The Judge lifted the letter in question, from where
he had let it fall, while listening to the remarks that
were being made, and read aloud as follows :
"William Brownell :
"
On receipt of this, if you have not already begun
to carry out the purposes I indicated to you at our
meeting, you will at once do so. The articles I named

to you, are to be handled as follows : No. I is to be
destroyed, so that you may better take care of No. 2.
Remember Seven, two of which are already gone. Use

any means you like, but take care of your own safety.
When this is done communicate with me."
"
It is all, alas ! too clear," said the Judge, as he
refolded the letter, and handed it to Squire O'Brien ;
"
this memorandum explains it, as the letter itself was
DANIEL BOONS. 375
designed to complete in writing, which could only be

understood by the one who received it, the order^
which had been previously given verbally.
" No. I was
poor Rafe, who was to be destroyed.
No. 2 was you, my young friend," he said, addressing
" am
Harry Calvert ; but as to the motive of the act I
now all at sea ;

since the letter says that it was to be
committed so that the murderer might better take care
'
of No. 2,' which is you the (7) referred to the seven

;
years named in your uncle's will, two of which had

elapsed.
" Without
going into particulars now, I will say in
explanation, that the idea of Squire O'Brien and my-
self, incoming out here, was to protect the life of my
secretary. From various circumstances, I had reason
to believe it was threatened ;
but in all my thinking on
the subject, the theory I had formed was that poor
Rafe was to be slaughtered on account of his connec-

tion with me, since Stephen Roberts was my enemy,
and the enemy of the purposes I had planned."

"
Perhaps the best thing to do," here observed Daniel
"
Boone, who had not hitherto spoken, is for Mr. Cal-
vert to go and see Brownell, as he has requested. The
scoundrel may possibly drop something that will ex-
plain the real motive of his murderous act."
" You " and
are right, Boone," said the Judge ;
now
that you are fortunately fully informed," he added to
"
Harry, you had better at once go and see what the
man has to say. I need not advise you to say nothing
yourself, until you have heard his story."
" I certainly shall not," said Harry, rising to depart
" be me even to
on his errand ;
it will difficult for listen
to him, and I could not possibly say anything more to

him than was absolutely necessary."
" "
One moment ! exclaimed Judge Anderson, as
" I
though he had forgotten something neglected ;
to mention one important fact Stephen Roberts is :
dead. He died at his office, in my presence, about

four weeks ago, after making partial confessions to me,
on which I based my suspicions concerning his inten-
tions with regard to poor friend." my
Though surprised and startled, Harry said nothing,
but hurried away to his appointment leaving the oth- ;
ers thunderstruck at this astounding piece of news.
Squire Boone had returned to Brownell and reported

that Mr. Calvert would speak to him shortly. Leaving
the others, Harry proceeded to the spot some ways
back from the camp, where Brownell and Hunter, both
securely tied, were lying upon the ground, closely
watched by the guards who had been placed over
them. A fire had been kindled there, also ;
and its
light illumined the faces of the four persons beside it.
On seeing Harry, Brownell moved a little restlessly,
and his face turned a shade paler. Drawing near to

"
him, Harry said, sternly : What do you want with
me?"
" What I have got to say to you, Mr. Calvert, is in
your own interest, and it will be better for you that
nobody else should hear it."
Harry felt such a sentiment of anger and hatred

DANIEL BOONE. 377
against this man, that he could hardly bring himself

to consent to a private interview ;
but a moment's re-
flection showed him, that perhaps in the interests of

justice it would be best, and he accordingly requested
Squire Boone to untie Brownell, and then keeping him

closely covered with a pistol he permitted him to step
a few paces aside, where he would not be overheard.
" "
Now, go on with what you have to say ! cried
" and be quick about it."
Harry,
"
Well," said the other, and he looked in Harry's
face, in a manner that was the reverse of remorseful ;
" there me
is no reason why you should be so hard on ;
as what I did, I did for

your sake."
Warned though he was by the communication he
had just received, Harry could not resist an expression
of loathing as he heard these words.
"For my sake, you scoundrel," said he, "what do
you mean ? How could you brutally murder my friend,
"
and term it for my sake ?
" know
Well, Mr. Calvert, I it looks onreasonable,
but it is the truth. My life is in your hands, and I
won't conceal anything from you. The man I killed

was not Rafe Slaughter, as he pretended going around ;
with a name that did not belong to him his real name ;
was Gabriel Herron, and he was the man that got your
inheritance away from you."
Brownell anticipated any movement of surprise on
If
the part of his auditor, he was disappointed. Harry

never moved a muscle, but staring him straight in the
"
face, said simply : Go on ;
I am listening."
Thinking that this manner might be assumed, Brown-

ell continued, although a little chop-fallen at this cool
reception of hismost important card :
" He stole "

your inheritance," he went on, and so
instead of being your friend, he must have been your
enemy ;
and nobody could tell but himself and now
he can't what he might have meant to do to you if
he had lived."
Despite his forced calmness, Harry was so affected
by this scandalous insinuation, that onry the recollec-
tion of the man's hands being tied, prevented him from
striking him. He kept control of himself, however ;
and, after waiting a moment, and receiving no response

to this cowardly accusation of the dead, Brownell
went on :
"
Stephen Roberts, down in Hillsborough, put me
up to this, and I agreed to do it because he told me ;
it was for your interest, and this other man was an im-
postor ;
I am sure I had nothing agin him," he added,
in awhining voice, for the imperturbable silence of the
other had by this time had its effect upon his own
equanimity.
Harry now saw that it was necessary for him to ques-
tion the fellow, if he would get at the merits of the
case.
"
What could Roberts' motive have been in direct-
ing such an infamous assassination ? He was no friend

of mine, and I never saw him but once in my life
'
"
Once was enough for Steve Roberts," "said the oth-
"
er, slyly. Mr. Calvert, anybody who knows anything
DANIEL BOONE. 379
about Roberts, knows that all he lives for is the Regu

lators."
" Did live for," said
"
he is dead."
Harry ;
Onhearing this, Brownell started back so suddenly,

that, tied as he was, he would have fallen had not
Harry seized him by the arm, and shaken him back

into an erect position.
The unexpected blow told fearfully. The man's jaw
dropped, and his face became clammy with perspira-
tion.
" " "
Dead ! he repeated. Great God !
you don't
"
mean it !
" "
He is dead," repeated Harry ; Judge Anderson
saw him die, at his office in Hillsborough."
" "
Then God damn his soul !
replied the other, al-
" He me
most in a shriek. has got into this scrape,
and I hope his infernal carcass will burn in hell."
Moved almost with a sense of compassion at this

terrible outburst, Harry stood, regarding the man, as
he fairly foamed at the mouth, in his passion of anger

and terror.
" "
Leave him," he said, presently, to the God you
invoke ; who will deal with both of you according to
your deserts."
"
Oh ! it is all up with me," cried the other, now
evidently grown reckless, as his certain fate stared him
"
in the face. jig is up. But I will do as much
My
damage as I can to Steve Roberts' memory while
I live.
"
Now, look here, Mr. Calvert, I will make a clean
breast of That man Roberts made a plot against
it.
you, that the devil himself could not have imagined.

" You remember
your second visit to him, when you
was on your way back from the coast."
" "
I do," said Harry, very well. It was no visit of
mine ;
he called me into his office."
"
That was a part of his plan. He knew then who
Rafe Slaughter was, and that you had lost through
him the property you expected from your uncle. That
visit of yours gave him his opportunity. He made up
his mind that he was going to get some of that money
to help the Regulators. He knew
he could not get it
out of Rafe Slaughter, and so he planned to get it out
of you."
" How could he hope to get money out of me by in-
stigating the murder of my best friend? and he wag

my best friend, and not my enemy, as you pretend to
believe. I know though, Brownell, that you don't be-
lieve it ; but, at least, when you reflect that the man
you so brutally murdered, saved your life, with the
others, when you were a prisoner among the Indians, I
should think you would drop dead in your tracks at
the reflection of what you have done."
That Brownell was affected by speech and the
this
recollection it recalled, was evident in his manner. He
trembled like a leaf shaken by the wind, tottered, and
would have fallen but recovered himself by a power-
ful effort, and stood listening. When Harry had con-
eluded, he went on, however, as though ignoring what
had last been said :
DANIEL BOONE. 3 g!
" I will tell how Stephen Roberts expected to get

money out of you, after he had procured the killing of
the one you call your best friend."
Leaning forward suddenly, with his face so close to
Harry's that they almost touched, while the other re-

coiled in horror, he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, " He
meant to charge you with instigating the crime."
" " "
My God ! exclaimed Harry ;
are you mad ? How
"
could he do that ?
" said the other "
Easy enough," ; by using your sec-
ond interview with him in his office in Hillsborough,
when you had just obtained the knowledge that you

were disinherited. Oh, his scheme was likely enough,
and might have succeeded, though now that I see what
kind of a man you are, I don't think so much of it as I
did.
"
His plan was just this I was to put the man out :
of the way then I was to go to you, and show you

;
what a benefit his death would be to you, because you

would now get the property ;
then he thought that out
of gratitude to him, and supposing you would have some
angry feelings against the man for keeping you out of
your rights, you would be willing to give him a good
round sum in the way of compensation, which he could

use to carry out the plans of the Regulators."
" "
My God my God! !
ejaculated poor Harry.
After a moment's silence and reflection, he said :
"
But supposing this hideous presumption of his
should have failed which you must know by this time
"
it certainly would then what would he have d :>ne ?
3 g2
" " I would
Why, just this," cried the other. have,
reminded you of your meeting with Stephen Roberts

at Hillsborough. I would have told you that he was
ready to swear that he then informed you of the iden-

tity of Rafe Slaughter with Gabriel Herron,
and that
you employed him to have him murdered, so that you

could get the property and that you promised him if
;
it was done, he should have half of what you received

for getting it done.
" He
had got the scheme all arranged could have ;
produced witnesses to swear they were in the next room

and heard the conversation ;
and I tell you, Mr. Calvert,
he would have brought such a power of evidence to
bear, that, the man being dead, and you not being able
to do him any good, you would have come into his
terms to save your own prospects and your life, and
the feelings and happiness of the girl you loved. I tell
you, nothing but the hand of God could have destroyed

that scheme, and that is what has done it."
To say that Harry was stunned by the tremendous

and terrible character of these revelations, is to give
but a light expression of his feelings.

While he felt the horror of the plan that he could not
doubt had been devised by Stephen Roberts, and the
thought of which shook him to the core, he was forced
to admit that there did not seem to be a flaw in it.
It was plain to him that nothing but the death of the

wretch who had conceived this villainous plot, and the
capture of his tool, could have saved him from being

meshed in a network of circumstantial evidence, under
DANIEL BOONE. 383
which he could not be sure that his firmness would not

have been broken. And as he thought of Maude
O'Brien in this connection, a cold perspiration started
to his brow, the blood returned to his heart, and with
a sigh that was almost a sob, as he reflected that Provi-
dence had spared him such a fearful conflict, he turned
to close the interview.
" Is there "
anything more you wish to say ? he asked.
"
No," said the other, sullenly.
All the excitement which had arisen in him as he re-
capitulated the details of the plot, in whose carrying out

he had been a chief instrument, had now left him, and
his face expressed gloom and despair.
" I have nothing more to say.
No, Stephen Roberts
isdead, and I soon will be. I took the risks and they
have gone agin me. I am sorry for my old woman and

the children," he added, half to himself, " but they won't
lose much when they lose me."
Moved a little in spite of himself, as he heard the
last remark of the hopeless wretch, Harry said, a little
more kindly :
"
Well, as you have concluded, you may return tc
where you were."
The man raised his head and looked at him for ;
moment.
" Mr. " do "
Calvert," he said, me one kindness !
" What is that ? "

" You've
got a loaded pistol in your hand
put a bul-;
let through my head. You won't get hurt. You can

tell any story you like, and if you tell the true one
3 34
about what I have said to you, it would be cause
enough for killing me. The law won't touch you. Do

it,won't you ? I don't want to be hung like a dog."
" "
Go back to your place said Harry, sternly
!
" there has been murder

enough. Whatever excuse
there might have been for Stephen Roberts with his
fanaticism, there is none for you. What you did was

an act against one who had saved your life, and had
been kind and friendly to you since you first met him ;
"
and you did for
money.
it Go on !
Brownell said no more. He dropped his chin on his
breast and walked slowly back to the fire, followed by
Harry.
" Tie him
up again," said the latter to Squire Boone,
" "
and for heaven's sake, don't let either of them escape !
" I have done

nothing, Mr. Calvert," cried Hunter, in
a whining voice, from his place on the ground and ;
he " I
rising as added, slowly, had nothing to do with
it but to stand there and hold his gun. He didn't tell
me what he was going about."
"
You lie, you cowardly hound " roared Brownell. !
" You knew all about

it, and knew enough to fix a good
stiff price on what little you had to do."

Pained and disgusted at this scene, Harry turned on
his heel and rejoined his companions.
It was by this time late, and he found that the others
had disposed themselves for the night, and were most
of them sleeping soundly he accordingly soon fol-
;
lowed their example.

The next morning Harry communicated to Judge
DANIEL BOONE. 385
Anderson and his uncle, alone, the statement that had

been made to him by Brownell.
Their expressions of
amazement and horror at the cold-blooded villainy and
wonderful skill of the plot which had thus so fortu-
nately miscarried, were as emphatic as had been his own.

After this conference was over, the Judge called all
the men of the party together to consult on the dis-
position to be made of the two prisoners. Boone and

the Squire were for improvising a court, trying, convict-
ing, sentencing,and hanging them on the spot but to ;
this course, however, though considering where they
were and the rather lax legal customs of frontier life,
Judge Anderson would not consent.

"
Weare too near the settlements to render that
"
necessary," he said. It will not take long to get them
to Hillsborough, where they can be properly tried."

It was accordingly decided that this disposition of
the two should be made, and the attention of all was

next directed to preparations for the burial of the un-
fortunate victim of Stephen Roberts' mad conspiracy.
It was determined to bury poor Rafe where he fell
by the side of the overhanging chestnut tree, where the
grassy slope inclined to the waters of the river below.
Here a grave was dug and in the quiet sunny after-
;
noon the body of their murdered friend was tenderly

carried thither, and deposited in its last resting-place,
bedewed with the tears of the only friends he had in
the whole world.

The grave was filled and sodded over, and a rude
17
cross, with the united initials R. S. and G. H. cut upon

it, was placed at its head.
The last rays of the setting sun, as it was gradually

being view behind the mountain-tops, gilded the
lost to
grave of that self-sacrificing, noble, and lonely spirit, as

his friends who mourned his loss with a sorrow that
was not to be comforted, gathered together their be

longings and hastened from the ill-omened spot.
Conducting their two prisoners with their hands tied,
but their limbs free to walk, and with the women of
the party mounted on the horses which had been
brought by Judge Anderson's party, all hastened their
steps, and at nightfall they were miles away from the
scene of the exciting incidents which thus sadly con-
cluded their journey into the wilds of Kentucky.
CHAPTER XXVI.
The return of the adventurers. A sad meeting, but a warm greeting. Battle*
are fought over again ; the past is related ; the present is enjoyed, and tha
happiness of at least two of the party is secured for the future.
THAT was a sorry company that, late one hazy after-
noon toward the end of October, 1771, wound along

the road that led across the bridge where we first in-
troduced Harry Calvert and Maude O'Brien, and so on
up to the drive-way which led to Squire O'Brien's man-

sion.
They were all worn, sun-burned and travel-stained.

Their clothing had been torn by brambles and soaked
by rains. Though the industrious needles of Maude

and Mademoiselle Raimonde had been plied frequently
and to good purpose, not all their care and labor had
prevented the display, in many instances, of garments
ripped and tattered.
First came Daniel Boone striding along, erect and
rifle swung over his shoul-
eagle-eyed as ever, with his
der, and close beside him Mike Dooley, externally the
worse for his long journey, but with his eye bright and
glistening, possibly with a stray tear of joy at reaching

home again.
After them came Thomas Hardeman, Squire Boone,
(387) <
388
THE LITE AND TIMES OF
and then a cavalcade of five horses. On the foremost
of these rode Maude, by whose side marched Harry

Culvert, his hand occasionally resting on the pommel
of her saddle. Next to them was Mile. Raimonde, and
then Rose, who could ride as well as a boy, and who
carried, strapped about the horse on which she sat, z
good part of the luggage of the entire company.

Following these were Judge Anderson
and Squire
O'Brien, also on horseback. And then was exhibited
the painful sight of the two men, Brownell and Hunter,

who struggled on, limping, and with their
hands tied
behind them, closely guarded by the three men who
had come up from Granville with Judge Anderson.
After they had crossed the bridge, the motley party
could be plainly seen from the great house, and at once
the piazza was with people, while from the negro
filled
quarters and outbuildings gathered the

house-servants
and the hands, and loud cries and cheers of welcome
went up from all of them.
The returned wanderers waved their hats and their

hands in acknowledgment of these salutations ;
but it
did not take long for those who were watching them
some of whom hastened down from the piazza to meet
them to recognize that this return was not altogether
joyous and satisfactory.
There was something about the manner of the entire
party which showed that there had been in their recent
experience some saddening occasion.
Lady O'Brien came to meet the Squire half-way, and
was followed by the rector and Mr. Rawlings, who had
DANIEL BOONE. 389
but just arrived, bringing his lady, for their customary

autumn visit.
Welcoming greetings now passed from one to the

other with all the warmth that could be desired, even
Maude coming in for a show of affection from her
mother which she had not expected, and which drew
tears from her eyes.
All were engaged in shaking hands and asking and
answering questions rapidly, when suddenly the rector,

who had been looking about for a moment, turned to
Harry, and said :
" But where "

Mr. Slaughter ?
is
There was a dead silence. Then the Squire took Dr.

Bullock aside, and briefly related to him an outline of
the facts connected with the assassination of Rafe, while
the same story was told by the others of the party.
The unexpected news that the courageous and noble-
hearted secretary had fallen a victim to the wicked
schemes of Stephen Roberts, greatly dampened the
spirits of those who were so happily appreciative of the
return of their friends.
But as the first effect of this communication wore off,
and were gathered about the piazza, and in the draw-

all
ing and sitting rooms conversing earnestly on the many

events of the last two years, a more satisfactory spirit
was aroused, and the worn-out pioneers began at last
to really appreciate the comfort and joy of coming
home.
Meanwhile, the two prisoners had been placed in a
secure apartment, where they were carefully watched,
and where they would remain until it should be decided

to remove them to Hillsborough for trial.
Daring the evening, and when all had been served

with a substantial supper, and sat about the great fires
in the halls and drawing-rooms, the sense of security
and association which impressed the travelers, was most

grateful to their senses, so long unaccustomed
to any
society but their own, and so long obliged to keep their

senses on the alert from the expectation of impending
danger.
There had been a general ransacking of wardrobes
and clothing-chests, and considerable amusement was
feltand expressed at the varied attire in which the new
arrivals had attired themselves.
Maude had hesitated long before accepting her fa-
ther's urgent invitation to return to Mount Mourne.

On their journey they had stopped at Boone's place,
both to give him an opportunity of seeing his family,
and to enable Maude to make such changes in her at-
tire as could be effected there. They remained on the
Yadkin a day and a night and while there Boone and
;
Harry had made their report to Judge Anderson and

the Squire, and the former had willingly acknowledged
the success of their mission and the importance of the
conclusions which they had reached, and which decided
him, and would, as he believed, decide his associates, to

complete the prosecution of their scheme by negotiat- .
ing for the purchase of the lands which Boone and

Harry had examined.
During their absence Judge Anderson had fulfilled
DANIEL BOONE. 39'
the promise he had made to Boone to charge himself

with the support of the latter's family, and had regu-
larly supplied them with whatever was necessary for

their sustenance and comfort.
This pause in their journey gave them a period
little
of rest, and enabled Squire O'Brien to use the argu-

ments necessary to induce his daughter to return with
him to her home.
He took upon himself the responsibility of assuring
Maude of a warm welcome from her mother, and no
further interference with her plans for the future, as to
which he had become her staunch adherent. The
knowledge he had acquired of the manly course of
Harry Calvert, and his recognition of the respect in
which the young man was held, both by Daniel Boone
and Judge Anderson, had strongly impressed the Squire,
whose affections had always leaned toward his nephew,
and he was now determined that there should be no

further trouble in their household on his account.
Maude at length yielded, and as Mile. Raimonde
would go anywhere her young mistress desired, and as
Harry had already been won over by his uncle, there
was nothing further to detain or deter them, and the
otherwise unaccountable appearance at Mount Mourne
of these principal characters in our narrative is thus
easily explained.
To return to the scene of placid comfort and satisfac-
tion which marked the night of their arrival, nothing
was wanting in hospitality and unremitting attention

on the part of those whose pleasant duty it was to en-
39 2
tertain them, to insure an agreeable occasion for the
unexpected guests.
Her Ladyship outdid herself in attendance on their
wants, and manifested a spirit of solicitude and recog-

nition of their past trials, dangers, and afflictions, which
was eminently creditable to her, and was appreciated
by those who were the gainers by it.
As Maude reclined in an easy-chair and gazed into
the fire, while her lover, close beside her, murmured
words of tenderness and affection in her ear; and as
she looked about over all the kindly and loving faces
of those who were grouped about her, she could not
but feel that the past months of excitement and hard-
ship had been to her at least a period of probation.

"
Harry, dear," she said, as this thought flashed upon
her, and her sweet face became serious and even solemn
as she spoke, " there is one thing which I could not un
derstand, but which is now made plain to me."
"And what is that, dear?" said her lover.
"
Why, since have known of what our poor friend
I
had done foryou before we ever set out on this jour-

ney, it has seemed strange to me that he should have
permitted the enterprise to go on when he could have

made us all so happy at once by declaring his inten-
tion with regard to you."
"
do you say me alone ? " asked Harry. " Sure-
Why
ly you must know that you are equally interested with
me in Rafe's act, and even that it probably would not
have been accomplished had it not been for his interest
in you as well as in me."
DANIEL BOONE. 39 ^
Maude blushed, and pressed her lover's hand a little
as she went on :
"
This has seemed strange to me, dear, and I have
even thought that had he acted thus, it would not only
have been kinder to us in sparing us so much that we
have encountered, but that it would also and that, of
course, is far, far more important have preserved to

us and to himself his valuable life.
" But now," she went on "
after a pause, I seem to
understand it all. By by permitting us to
this act,
continue in the plan we had marked out for ourselves ;
by not interfering with your determination, so resolute

and so energetic he enabled us both to show of what
;
kind of material we were composed."

"
Yes, Maude, you are right," said Harry gravely.
"
By he permitted you to display, as you
this course
could have done in no other way, your unwavering
fidelity to me, and a degree of love and of courage

based upon love unexampled, I believe, in history."
Maude made a deprecating movement with her dis-
engaged hand and continued :
" And then, too, we must remember that since he

united himself with us in our enterprise, since he volun-
took upon himself the responsibility and the ar-
tarily
duous duties which were involved in the charge of such
a burden as must have been to him, there could have
I
been nothing but the purest unselfishness and the sweet-

est tenderness and affection for us to have impelled him
to the course he pursued. And, dear," she continued,!

her eyes " know am
filling with tears, I that I a better
394 THh LIFL AND TIMES OF
woman, and will make a truer and better wife to you,

and I know you are a better and braver man for all this
that Rafe did for us."

" You are entirely right, Maude. I had felt some of
the impressions which affected you and though I ;
viewed them from a man's stand-point, I think I had

almost reached the same conclusions.
"
I can understand now something that appeared in
the manner of Rafe Slaughter on the day when I re-
ceived intelligence of my disinheritance, which I did

not comprehend before.
" I believe that at that moment his first impulse was
to disclose himself, and to offer some provision for us
which should render unnecessary the step I then an-
nounced my determination to take. But his far-seeing
judgment told him that to permit me to continue in
the course I had laid down for myself, and to trust to
Providence that all would come right in the end, would
be better and wiser and more certain to produce a
happy and perfect result and that he was right, though

;
so sadly and unfortunately for himself, is now manifest

to both of us."
The two sat silent after this for some time, while
they listened to the conversation that was going on
about them, and in which all from time to time united.
At last, happy evening was drawing
as this long and
to a close,
Judge Anderson rose where he was sitting
between Daniel Boone and the Squire, and desiring the
attention of those present for a moment, placed his hand
on the shoulder of the hunter and spoke as follows :
DANIEL BOONS. 395
" we here together,
My friends, while are all many of
us warmly recognizing and appreciating the safety which

has been granted them in the face of many dangers, I
desire to announce my entire satisfaction with the
manner in which so much of this enterprise as I insti
gated has been carried out.

"
My friend Daniel Boone has added greatly to his
reputation by the success with which he has accomplish-
ed the dangerous and difficult task which I set him
more than two years ago and which, during nearly all
;
of that time, he has been engaged in prosecuting.

" His me and
report to has confirmed my views, will,
I am certain, be accepted by those who are concerned

with me ;
and in complimenting him I am glad to
unite with his the name of my young friend, Mr. Cal-
vert, who so bravely set forth alone to find him, suc-
ceeded in doing so, and accompanied him throughout
his perilous journey, sustaining him nobly by his cour-
age and by his friendly counsel.
"It will be my duty and pleasure, as will be the case
with my associates, of whom my friend the Squire here
is one, to see that such provision is made for Mr. Cal-
vert as shall amply reward him for his share in this im-
portant undertaking.
"
As for Daniel Boone, we have always been friends,
and our friendship is now more staunch and well found-
ed than before."
Grasping the hand of the hunter, he continued :
" He will be associated

with me hereafter in this pur-
pose, and will continue to direct whatever pioneef

action shall be required in carrying it out. I may prop-
erly add that it will not be long before I shall call upon
him to act for me in the final transaction by which I
expect to acquire for our organization the vast tracts ol

territory over which he has lately passed, and concern-
ing which his report is so satisfactory."

As the Judge concluded, there was a general move-
ment, and most of those present pressed eagerly for-
ward to grasp the hand of the honest hunter, who

could not help showing some signs of diffidence as he
acknowledged the compliments which were showered

upon him, and as to which Harry Calvert came in for a
large share.
The party presently broke up for the night.
On the following day Judge Anderson and his Gran-
ville followers left Mount Mourne, taking with them
their two prisoners, designing to incarcerate them in
the where they would remain un-

jail at Hillsborough,
til term time, which would occur in a few weeks.

To dispatch finally this portion of our narrative, it
may be stated that the two men were tried at Hills-
borough, another judge sitting on the bench, Judge

Anderson declining on account of his intimate connec-
tion with the case, and of the fact that his services
were required as a most important witness.
During the trial, the whole course of Stephen Rob-

erts with regard to the murdered Rafe Slaughter was
laid bare, and the various papers bearing upon it were
put in as evidence.
The result of the trial was that Brownell was convict-
DANIEL BOONE. 397
ed of murder in the first degree, and sentenced to be

hanged ;
a sentence which was. carried into effect with-
in tendays of the time when it was pronounced. His
companion, Hunter, was found guilty of being an acces-
sory, and by arrangement with the proper authorities
was sent to England, where he was imprisoned for life
at hard labor.
Judge Anderson had not been permitted to take his

departure from the hospitable mansion of Mount
Mourne promise had been exacted from him
until a
that he would return at the Christmas holidays with

Mrs. Anderson and his daughter Jessie, whom we intro-
duced to the reader in an early chapter ;

and that they
would be present at the ceremony of marriage between
Maude O'Brien and Harry Calvert, which was to be
solemnized on Christmas Eve at the residence of the
bride's father.
This agreement on the part of the Judge was car-

ried out punctiliously; and on Christmas Eve, 1771,
there were assembled at Mount Mourne all of those

personages with whom the reader is now familiar and ;
then and there Harry and Maude were made man and
wife.
At ceremony Thomas Hardeman acted as best

this
man, and sweet Jessie Anderson, with one of Harde-

man's sisters and one or two other young ladies of the
neighborhood, filled, with a due sense of their impor-
tance, the position of bridesmaids.
The festivities of this occasion were the talk of the
surrounding country for. years afterward, and among

the servants of the neighboring planters, with whom
Mike Dooley became forever after a hero, and Rose a
heroine, no such wonderful event was ever remembered
as the Christmas wedding of Harry Calvert and Miss
Maude.
CHAPTER XXVII.
"On Watauga." Daniel Boone appears in a new character, and the Readet
ispresent on an important historical occasion. The narrative fittingly con-
cludes at the grave of one of its chief personages.
IN the month and on the I7th day of

of March, 1775,
that month, a strange and picturesque scene was being

enacted on the banks of the Watauga River, at a
point located where that stream has not yet left the
boundary-line of North Carolina.
Here a level plateau, but little covered with forest
growth, extended for several miles in all directions.
To the east two gigantic peaks reared their tall forms

five thousand and more feet in the air. The clear and
beautiful waters of the Watauga flowed with a rapid
current from its source in the adjoining hills, northwest-
ward, toward its confluence with the Holston, in East-

ern Tennessee. The ground was carpeted with soft,
wavy grass, brilliant with the first green of spring.

Almost forming a perfect amphitheater, about whose
outlines the foot-hills rose to the more elevated range
beyond, in defined terraces, it would seem as though this
spot had been exactly fitted by Nature for the scene of

some important action on the part of man.
And the surroundings and accessories on the occasion
we are about to describe, were such as would have
(399)
40O THE LIFE AND TIMES OF
speedily informed the curious spectator that some trans,
action of grave moment was about to be completed.

The situation was dramatic in the extreme.
At a point on the plain, lying near the bank of the
stream, rude preparations had apparently been made

for the conduct of some ceremonial, the nature of which,
however, the appearances did not indicate.
Here a few rough logs and carelessly hewn boards
had been put together in the form of a table beside ;
which, sections sawn from the trunk of a tree were

placed to serve the purpose of seats.
At present,no one was sitting upon them, but on the
table were pens, ink, and paper, arranged as though pre-
liminary to the execution of some important legal act.
Standing a short distance from the table was a group

of Indians, who,
by the care that had been displayed in
and by their proud and stately carriage,
their attire,
would have been rightly judged to be warriors and

chiefs of high position and repute.
They were, in fact, Cherokee chiefs ;
and the absence
of war-paint from their countenances, and their gener-
ally peaceful aspect, showed that whatever might be
the meaning of their presence here, and the nature of
their mission, it was not of a warlike character.
Standing about singly, clustered together in groups,
lying about upon the ground, or crouched in a frequent
Indian attitude, were gathered hundreds of Cherokee
warriors, perhaps to the number of a thousand ;

some
engaged in conversation in low tones, others simply
gazing about with that air of stolid indifference to ex-
DANIEL BOONS. 4OI
ternal things which has ever been so peculiarly a char-
acteristic of the North American Indian races.
They were garbed in many costumes and were bril-
liant in many hues.
Over the buckskin hunting-shirt, with its deep-fringed

border, was hung in some instances a broad belt extend-
ing from the shoulder to the waist, woven with wam-

pum and porcupine quills dyed in various colors, and
to which was hung the wearer's powder-horn, often
richly ornamented, or his gaudy shot-bag or tobacco-

pouch.
Some of these warriors were clad, outside the hunt-
ing-shirt, in blankets of different colors, that hung from

the shoulder to the ankles.
A portion of them but the larger num-
carried rifles,
ber held in their hands long bows, and the deerskin
pouch for the arrows showed the feathered tips of

these projectiles rising above the left shoulder.
The chiefs were profusely ornamented by head-gears
of feathers ;
and beads and wampum in different com-
binations adorned various parts of their persons.
Turning from inspection of these wild and restless
denizens of the forest, the eye would have been caught
by another group, differing widely in the characteristics

of those who composed it, from the ones we have de-
scribed.
They stood apart from the Indians, and were engaged

in conversation
among themselves.
Prominent among them would have been recognized
the towering figure of Daniel Boone, who stood a little
away from the others, and as he leaned uj on the muz-

zle of his regarded the scene stretched out before
rifle,
him, placidly, but evidently not with indifference.

To the Kentucky pioneer this day was that of the
culmination of his labors, and the result of his dangers
and privations during six years of almost contiguous
service in the wilderness, and of constant battle with
the savage hordes infesting it.
Many times had his life been in imminent danger,

and been spared, as it seemed, almost by providential
intervention.
Hehad been captured by the Indians and held a
prisoner months at a time and escaped at last. A
general warfare was now in process of being under-
taken by the Colonists against their savage foes it ;
was but a month previous that the news of the battle

of Lexington American people with the
thrilled the
impulse of the struggle for liberty which was im-

first
pending already the predictions of Stephen Roberts

;
that a general outbreak was close at hand was about

being established by historical facts but up to this ;
time, Daniel Boone had not been drawn into the vor-
tex of political disturbance, but had held steadily and
conscientiously to the prosecution of the important

mission which had been confided to his charge and
whose final consummation was about to take place.
Staunch, conscientious, daring, and resolute, the
hardy pioneer could gaze to the westward in the direc-
tion of thousands of square miles of territory, and say :
"
I have wrested this vast
expanse of land from its sav
DANIEL BOONE. 403
age owners, to bequeath it as a precious heritage for
the enriching of future generations."

That possibly some conception of the grandeur of his
career idits ultimate results, passed through the mind
of Daniel Boone, as he stood regarding the preparations

for the ceremonial about to take place, is not inconsist-
ent with the thoughtful nature of the man.
Near to him stood our old friend Harry Calvert ;
and beside him, her beautiful face and graceful figure

easily to be recognized, though the latter had rounded
somewhat into matronly proportions, and resting upon
his arm, was his sweet wife, whom the reader has
followed in her fortunes and misfortunes as Maude
O'Brien.
Harry had out into the proportions of a man

filled
of affairs, as was proper in the case of one who for sev-
eral years had farmed extensive tracts of land in the
neighborhood of the Clinch River, and of the burial-
place of his cousin, while he waited for the slow proc-

esses which should eventually put him in possession of
his "promised land."

The remaining persons who made up the group of
whites, were Thomas Hardeman, in whose sweet-faced
:
and blushing companion the reader would have no

difficulty in recognizing Jessie Anderson, whose pretty,
girlish prattle had served to entertain Daniel Boone

during his memorable visit to the estate of her father,
now more than six years ago. The bridesmaid of
Mount Mourne had become herself a bride two years
later, and Thomas Hardeman had brought her to wit
404
ness the final act in the enterprise in which he had

himself been no idle actor.
Near this party, and evidently in attendance upon its
members, was Mike Dooley, a little grizzled, and show-
ing the effect of advancing years, but with as jolly a

countenance and as humorous a twinkle in his gray
eyes as ever.
This completed the party, the gentlemen of which
"
had been duly accredited by the Proprietors of Tran-
sylvania" that were to be, to represent their interests
in the treaty with the Cherokees which was presently
to be completed ;
and in which Daniel Boone was to
be the principal agent of the purchasers of the lands
to be deeded by this instrument, his two companions
acting as witnesses to his signature.
The positions of the various personages who were
about to transact this important business, were now
suddenly changed at a word from Boone.
Desiring the others of his party to accompany him,
he approached the rude table a movement which was at
once imitated by the group of Cherokee chiefs who stood
near, and who were accompanied by an interpreter.
Seating himself an action in which he was at once

imitated by the others and drawing from a pouch
which hung at his side, a document in two copies, en-
grossed upon parchment, Boone proceeded to read it

aloud in English. On concluding, he handed it to the
interpreter, who in turn translated it into the Chero-

kee tongue, while the chiefs listened in grave silence to
the enumeration of its provisions.
DANIEL BOONE. 405
The specific description of the lands to be sold
by the Cherokees to Judge Anderson and his asso-

ciates, as contained in the Treaty, was as follows: "All
that tract of land beginning at themouth, or junction

of the Kentucky or Louisa River with the Ohio thence ;
to the source of the former thence south, into Ten-

;
nessee, until a westward line shall cross the Cumberland

mountains so as to strike the ridge which divides the
waters of the Tennessee from those of the Cumberland ;
and with that ridge to the Ohio River ;

and with that
river to the mouth of the Kentucky or Louisa River
again."
The instrument being read and accepted by the
agreeing parties, nothing remained to be done but to
affix toeach copy the signatures of those executing it,
and of the witnesses.

This occupied some time, each chief having to place
document against the name
in its proper position in the
by which he was known, his "totem" or sign-manual ;
but at length the act was concluded by all concerned,

and the Treaty of Watauga was an accomplished fact.
Then, with cordial hand-shakes, frequent ejaculations
of "How! How!" and general leave-taking, the con-
tracting parties separated, and the scene of this char-
acteristic transaction was in a few hours silent and de-

serted.
Boone and his party entered the wagon by which

they had all traveled from their settlement on the
Clinch River, and were speedily being driven by Mike
Dooley on their road homeward.

Then the Indians took up their line of march toward

their village in the far southwest.
On a lovely moonlight evening, perhaps a week later,
Maude and Harry stood beside the grave of their dead

friend and benefactor.
It lay within the bounds of their own estate, and had
been carefully tended, and the sod above it bloomed
with the first flowers of spring. At its head was a plain
gray stone shaft, on which was inscribed after the rec-
ord of his name and years this sentiment :
HE WAS FAITHFUL uxro DEATH.

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Norton - The Days of Daniel Boone (1883)

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ANIEfc

DAYS OF DANIEL BOONE

THE DARK AND BLOODY GROUND."

THE subject of American History has been, com'

Yet, a little reflection will show that the history of

try in their professional work.

promising field, selecting for his subject a character, a

generally known to American readers.

In undertaking to write a Romance of the Life and

knowledge of the history of France from Alexandei

of this class of literary work, is not the purpose of His

On the contrary, while the author has in many in-

stances in the course of his work employed actual his-

ing him as he is authentically presented by history

regarding the possibilities if not the probabilities of his

While, therefore, historical facts when given have been

personages who were actually associated with his life,

have been described, and their characters and acts set

forth, as nearly as was practicable, with historic truth :

the reader is desired to remember that this is a Romance,

Deprecating no just and reasonable criticism of his

work, the highest praise of its construction to which

In which the Reader introduced to Daniel Boone, and is made ac-

quainted with the condition of his Majesty's Colony of North Carolina,

Wherein Boone becomes the guest of Judge Anderson, and an important

as a character not unworthy of study, 28

In which Judge Anderson elucidates his designs, without affording any

treeing the coon, 105

the story progresses a material step forward, ......

being involved in the meshes of a network of mystery, . . . 873

discussion of a communication which recalls the suggestion that "the

piness is turned to mourning, and Rafe Slaughter's premonitions come

card, and, failing of success, exposes certain complications of interest.

concludes at the grav* of one of its chief personages, .... jgg

In which the Reader is introduced to Daniel Boone, and Is made acquainted

agin him in a matter where the law's with him."

scanning the two who were conversing.

the rifle which had been held loosely in his hand,

brought it to his shoulder, turning entirely about as

feeFs a critter near him, after much living in the open

constant exposure to the weather ;

ing attached a sheath in which was his dangerous-look-

forty-five years, or thereabouts, with closely-cropped

grass, he gave vent to an oath then he joined the ;

party who had been regarding these two.

" He says he'll have naught to do with you nor yer

armed, and all clad in various kinds of homespun

occasionally by the presence of a buckskin hunting-

They were all preoccupied in their manner, and their

faces wore a stern and determined expression, as though

Judge, an' I ain't answerable for every word, but it was

ing his hunting-knife into a tree before him.

misdoubt if he ever used them after that fashion but ;

since he's against us and it's easy to see that's so

The period was the year of our Lord 1768. The

ters as a baker's dozen of broad provinces three thou-

sand miles across the ocean, and another baker's dozen

George the Third was King in England, and Louis

and die miserably at last, a hopeless