t their
temerity, though, as formerly, with some loss; one of their number
having been killed and two wounded. Seven of the Indians were distinctly
counted from the fort among the slain; though, according to custom, the
bodies were removed. After a close siege, and almost constant firing
during two days, the Indians raised a yell of disappointment, and
disappeared in the forests.

In order to present distinct views of the sort of enemy, with whom Boone
had to do, and to present pictures of the aspect of Indian warfare in
those times, we might give sketches of the repeated sieges of
Harrodsburgh and Boonesborough, against which--as deemed the strong
holds of the _Long-knife,_ as they called the Americans--their most
formidable and repeated efforts were directed. There is such a sad and
dreary uniformity in these narratives, that the history of one may
almost stand for that of all. They always present more or less killed
and wounded on the part of the stations, and a still greater number on
that of the Indians. Their attacks of stations having been uniformly
unsuccessful, they returned to their original modes of warfare,
dispersing themselves in small bodies over all the country, and
attacking individual settlers in insulated cabins, and destroying women
and children. But as most of these annals belong to the general history
of Kentucky, and do not particularly tend to develop the character of
the subject of this biography, we shall pretermit them, with a single
exception. At the expense of an anachronism, and as a fair sample of the
rest, we shall present that, as one of the most prominent Indian sieges
recorded in these early annals. It will not be considered an episode, if
it tend to convey distinct ideas of the structure and form of a
_station_, and the modes of attack and defence in those times. It was in
such scenes that the fearless daring, united with the cool, prudent, and
yet efficient counsels of Daniel Boone, were peculiarly conspicuous.
With this view we offer a somewhat detailed account of the attack of
Bryant's station.

As we know of no place, nearer than the sources of the Mississippi, or
the Rocky Mountains, where the refuge of a _station_ is now requisite
for security from the Indians; as the remains of those that were
formerly built are fast mouldering to decay; and as in a few years
history will be the only depository of what the term _station_ imports,
we deem it right, in this place, to present as