t that the Holston company
had not cheered, and indeed the rest of the day these men went about
plainly morose and discontented,--some saying openly (and with much
justice, though we failed to see it then) that they had their own
families and settlements to defend from the Southern Indians and
Chickamauga bandits, and could not undertake Kentucky's fight at that
time. And when the enthusiasm had burned away a little the disaffection
spread, and some even of the Kentuckians began to murmur against Clark,
for faith or genius was needful to inspire men to his plan. One of the
malcontents from Boonesboro came to our fire to argue.

"He's mad as a medicine man, is Clark, to go into that country with less
than two hundred rifles. And he'll force us, will he? I'd as lief have
the King for a master."

He brought every man in our circle to his feet,--Ray, McCann, Cowan, and
Tom. But Tom was nearest, and words not coming easily to him he fell on
the Boonesboro man instead, and they fought it out for ten minutes in
the firelight with half the regiment around them. At the end of it, when
the malcontents were carrying their champion away, they were stopped
suddenly at the sight of one bursting through the circle into the light,
and a hush fell upon the quarrel. It was Colonel Clark.

"Are you hurt, McChesney?" he demanded.

"I reckon not much, Colonel," said Tom, grinning, as he wiped his face.

"If any man deserts this camp to-night," cried Colonel Clark, swinging
around, "I swear by God to have him chased and brought back and punished
as he deserves. Captain Harrod, set a guard."

I pass quickly over the rest of the incident. How the Holston men and
some others escaped in the night in spite of our guard, and swam the
river on logs. How at dawn we found them gone, and Kenton and Harrod and
brave Captain Montgomery set out in pursuit, with Cowan and Tom and Ray.
All day they rode, relentless, and the next evening returned with but
eight weary and sullen fugitives of all those who had deserted.

The next day the sun rose on a smiling world, the polished reaches of
the river golden mirrors reflecting the forest's green. And we were
astir with the light, preparing for our journey into the unknown
country. At seven we embarked by companies in the flatboats, waving
a farewell to those who were to be left behind. Some stayed through
inclination and disaffection: others because Colonel Clark did not
deem them equal to the task. But