repulse of the enemy he returned to the
Yadkin for his family, and brought them again to his chosen
land. He came back to find an Indian war raging along the
whole frontier, in which he was called to play an active
part, and on more than one occasion owed his life to his
strength, endurance, and sagacity. This warfare continued
for a number of years, the Indians being generally
successful, and large numbers of soldiers falling before
their savage onsets. At length the conduct of the war was
intrusted to "Mad Anthony" Wayne, whose skill, rapidity, and
decision soon brought it to an end, and forced the tribes to
conclude a treaty of peace.

Thenceforward Kentucky was undisturbed by Indian forays, and
its settlement went forward with rapidity. The intrepid
Boone had by no means passed through the fire of war
unharmed. He tells us, "Two darling sons and a brother have
I lost by savage hands, which have also taken from me forty
valuable horses and abundance of cattle. Many dark and
sleepless nights have I been a companion for owls, separated
from the cheerful society of men, scorched by the summers'
sun, and pinched by the winter's cold, an instrument
ordained to settle the wilderness."

One wilderness settled, the hardy veteran pined for more.
Population in Kentucky was getting far too thick for his
ideas of comfort. His spirit craved the solitude of the
unsettled forest, and in 1802 he again pulled up stakes and
plunged into the depths of the Western woods. "Too much
crowded," he declared; "too much crowded. I want more
elbow-room."

His first abiding place was on the Great Kanawha, where he
remained for several years. Then, as the vanguard of the
army of immigrants pressed upon his chosen home, he struck
camp again, and started westward with wife and children,
driving his cattle before him, in search of a "promised
land" of few men and abundant game. He settled now beyond
the Mississippi, about fifty miles west of St. Louis. Here
he dwelt for years, hunting, trapping, and enjoying life in
his own wild way.

Years went by, and once more the emigrant army pressed upon
the solitude-loving pioneer, but he was now too old for
further flight. Eighty years lay upon his frosted brow, yet
with little diminished activity he pursued his old mode of
life, being often absent from home for weeks on hunting
expeditions. Audubon, the famous ornithologist, met him in
one of these forays, and thus pictures him: "The stature and