t it may
prove true, but we must have some witnesses. Do you stay hereabouts and
I will go and bring some of the settlers whom I know.'

"'I agreed. Mr. ---- trotted off, and I, to pass the time, rambled about
to see if a deer was still living in the land. But ah! sir, what a
wonderful difference thirty years makes in a country! Why, at the time
when I was caught by the Indians, you would not have walked out in any
direction more than a mile without shooting a buck or a bear. There were
then thousands of buffaloes on the hills in Kentucky. The land looked as
if it never would become poor; and to hunt in those days was a pleasure
indeed. But when I was left to myself on the banks of Green River, I
daresay for the last time in my life, a few _signs_ only of the deer
were seen, and as to a deer itself I saw none.

"'Mr. ---- returned, accompanied by three gentlemen. They looked upon me
as if I had been Washington himself, and walked to the ash tree, which I
now called my own, as if in quest of a long lost treasure. I took an axe
from one of them and cut a few chips off the bark. Still no signs were
to be seen. So I cut again until I thought it time to be cautious, and I
scraped and worked away with my butcher knife until I _did_ come to
where my tomahawk had left an impression on the wood. We now went
regularly to work and scraped at the tree with care until three hacks,
as plain as any three notches ever were, could be seen. Mr. ---- and the
other gentlemen were astonished, and I must allow that I was as much
surprised as pleased myself. I made affidavit of this remarkable
occurrence in presence of these gentlemen. Mr. ---- gained his cause. I
left Green River for ever, and came to where we are now; and, sir, I
wish you a good night."

The life of this wonderful man was filled with similar adventures, many
of which can now never be recalled. The following narrative will give
the reader an idea of the scenes which were continually occurring in
those bloody conflicts between the white settlers and the Indians:

"A widow was residing in a lonely log cabin, remote from any settlers,
in what is now Bourbon County, Kentucky. Her lonely hut consisted of but
two rooms. One, the aged widow occupied herself, with two sons and a
widowed daughter with an infant child; the other was tenanted by her
three unmarried daughters, the oldest of whom was twenty years of age.

"It was eleven o'clock at night, and the members of the indust