ty for him if captured. Death, by the most
cruel tortures the infuriated savages could devise, was sure
to be his fate.

All this Boone knew, but it did not shake his resolute soul.
His family and friends were in deadly peril; he alone could
save them; his own danger was not to be thought of in this
emergency. On the morning of June 16 he rose very early for
his usual hunt. Taking the ammunition doled out to him by
his Indian guards, he added to it that which he had secreted
in the woods, and was ready for the desperate enterprise
which he designed.

Boone was now forty-three years of age, a man of giant frame
and iron muscles, possessed of great powers of endurance, a
master of all the arts of woodcraft, and one of the most
skilful riflemen in the Western wilds. Keen on the trail,
swift of foot, and valorous in action as were the Indian
braves, there was no warrior of the tribe the equal in
these particulars of the practised hunter who now meditated
flight.

On the selected morning the daring woodsman did not waste a
moment. No sooner had he lost sight of the village than he
headed southward at his utmost speed. He could count on but
an hour or two to gain a start on his wary foes. He well
knew that when the hour of his usual return had passed
without his appearance, a host of scouts would follow in
swift pursuit. Such was the case, as he afterwards learned.
No sooner had the Indians discovered the fact of his flight
than an intense commotion reigned among them, and a large
number of their swiftest runners and best hunters were put
upon his trail.

By this time, however, he had gained a considerable start,
and was pushing forward with all speed taking the usual
precautions as he went to avoid making a plain trail, but
losing no time in his flight. He dared not use his
rifle,--quick ears might be within hearing of its sound. He
dared not kindle a fire to cook game, even if he had killed
it,--sharp eyes might be within sight of its smoke. He had
secured a few cuts of dried venison, and with this as his
only food he pushed on by day and night, hardly taking time
to sleep, making his way through forest and swamp, and
across many streams which were swollen by recent rains. And
on his track, like blood-hounds on the scent of their
victims, came the furious pursuers now losing his trail,
now recovering it; and, as they went, spreading out over a
wide space, and pushing steadily southward over the general
route whi