rosperous. They wanted to invest part of their earnings. They
wanted to set up other undertakings. So they began sending out
expeditions into the wilderness with the intention of trading with the
Indians and possibly of securing lands for settlers.

As early as 1673 young Gabriel Arthur had set out on an expedition for
his master Colonel Abraham Wood of Virginia with a small party. Through
the Valley of Virginia went the young adventurer, taking the
well-defined Warrior's Path; he followed watercourses and gaps that cut
through high mountain walls, down the Holston River through Tennessee,
through the "great gap" into the Cuttawa country. Finally separated from
his companions, the lad lost all count of time. Even if he had had a
calendar tucked away in the pocket of his deerskin coat, however, it
would have done him no good for he could neither read nor write. Weeks
and months passed. Winter came. Finally after many adventures young
Arthur started on the long journey back to Virginia. As he drew near
Colonel Wood's home he heard merriment within and the voice of his
master wishing his household a merry Christmas. Not till then did the
young adventurer know how long he had been away.

With the master and the household and the friends who had gathered to
celebrate and offer thanks at the Yuletide season, with all listening
eagerly, young Gabriel Arthur, though unable to bring back any written
record, told many a stirring tale. A swig of wine may have spurred the
telling of how he had been captured by the Shawnees (in Ohio), of how he
had been surrounded by a wild, shouting tribe who tied him to a stake
and were about to put a flaming torch to his feet when he thought of a
way to save his life. They were charmed with the gun he carried, and the
shiny knife at his belt. If they'd set him free he promised to bring
them many, many knives and guns. Once young Gabriel made his escape he
didn't intend to be caught napping again. He painted his fair face with
wild berry juice, and color from bark and herbs. After much wandering he
found himself with friendly Cherokees in the upper Tennessee Valley.
They were so friendly, in fact, that a couple of them accompanied him on
his return to Virginia. He returned along other watercourses--by way of
the Rockcastle and Kentucky Rivers. He crossed the Big Sandy--the
Indians called it Chatterawha and Totteroy. He got out of their canoe at
a point where the Totteroy flows into the Ohio and st