n was soon
arranged. Early the next morning a bottle of whiskey, having tartar
emetic in it, was placed in the bower, and the other bottle thrown away.
At the usual hour, the lads were sent out to play, and the master
started on his walk. But their play was to come afterward; they longed
for the master to return. At length they were called in, and in a little
time saw the success of their experiment. The master began to look pale
and sick, yet still went on with his work. Several boys were called up,
one after the other, to recite lessons, and all whipped soundly, whether
right or wrong. At last young Boone was called out to answer questions
in arithmetic. He came forward with his slate and pencil, and the master
began: 'If you subtract six from nine, what remains?' said he. 'Three,
sir,' said Boone. 'Very good,' said the master; 'now let us come to
fractions. If you take three-quarters from a whole number, what
remains?' 'The whole, sir,' answered Boone. 'You blockhead!' cried the
master, beating him; 'you stupid little fool, how can you show that?'
'If I take one bottle of whiskey,' said Boone, 'and put in its place
another in which I have mixed an emetic, the whole will remain if nobody
drinks it!' The Irishman, dreadfully sick, was now doubly enraged.
He seized Boone, and commenced beating him; the children shouted and
roared; the scuffle continued until Boone knocked the master down upon
the floor, and rushed out of the room. It was a day of freedom now for
the lads. The story soon ran through the neighborhood; Boone was rebuked
by his parents, but the schoolmaster was dismissed, and thus ended the
boy's education."

"Thus freed from school, he now returned more ardently than ever to his
favorite pursuit. His dog and rifle were his constant companions, and
day after day he started from home, only to roam through the forests.
Hunting seemed to be the only business of his life; and he was never so
happy as when at night he came home laden with game. He was an untiring
wanderer."

Perhaps it was not a very serious misfortune for Daniel Boone that his
school instruction was so scanty, for, "in another kind of education,"
says Mr. Peck,[5] "not unfrequent in the wilds of the West, he was an
adept. No Indian could poise the rifle, find his way through the
pathless forest, or search out the retreats of game, more readily than
Daniel Boone. In all that related to Indian sagacity, border life, or
the tactics of the skillf