id him to procure food in a long flight. Shrewd as they
were, however, Boone was more than their match. In his
hunting expeditions he cut his balls in half, and used very
small charges of powder, so that he was enabled to bring
back game while gradually secreting a store of ammunition.

And thus the days and weeks went on, while Daniel Boone
remained, to all outward appearance, a contented Shawnee
warrior. But at length came a time when flight grew
imperative. He had been taken to the salt-licks with a party
of Indians to aid them in making salt. On returning to
Chillicothe he was alarmed to see the former peaceful aspect
of the village changed to one of threatened war. A band of
four hundred and fifty warriors had been collected for a
hostile foray, and to his horror he learned that
Boonesborough was the destined point of attack.

In this fort were his wife and children. In the present
state of security of the inmates they might easily be taken
by surprise. He alone could warn them of their danger, and
to this end he must escape from his watchful foes.

Boone was not the man to let the anxiety that tore his heart
appear on his face. To all seeming he was careless and
indifferent, looking on with smiling face at their
war-dances, and hesitating not to give them advice in
warlike matters. He knew their language sufficiently to
understand all they said, but from the moment of his
captivity had pretended to be entirely ignorant of it,
talking to them only in the jargon which then formed the
medium of communication between the red men and the whites,
and listening with impassive countenance to the most
fear-inspiring plans. They, therefore, talked freely before
him, not for a moment dreaming that their astute prisoner
had solved the problem of their destination. As for Boone,
he appeared to enter with whole-souled ardor into their
project and to be as eager as themselves for its success,
seeming so fully in sympathy with them, and so content with
his lot, that they absorbed in their enterprise, became less
vigilant than usual in watching his movements.

The time for the expedition was at hand. Whatever the
result, he must dare the peril of flight. The distance to be
traversed was one hundred and sixty miles. As soon as his
flight should become known, he was well aware that a host of
Indian scouts, thoroughly prepared for pursuit and full of
revengeful fury, would be on his track. And there would be
no further safe