nd had determined, when the proper time
arrived, to flee from the village and warn the settlers of their peril.
It was also understood that, after the departure of the scout, if Peleg
should see the least opportunity, he, too, would attempt to leave the
Indian village.

When June came the great scout saw that the men were preparing for a
march within a few days. Whatever he was to do must be done quickly. No
opportunity had been granted for a further word with his young friend,
when early one morning Boone fled from Chillicothe.

A small piece of jerked venison was all the food he had been able to
take with him on his long journey. He was without rifle or knife and
before him stretched a pathless forest through which he must flee one
hundred and sixty miles before he again would be among his friends! No
one knew better than Boone himself that it was to be a race for life,
for pursuit on the morrow was as certain as the rising of the sun.

Nevertheless with the same quiet courage which had ever been the great
scout's strong reliance, he struck out for the Ohio River. Through the
deep forests, over the high crags and rocks, across the creeks and
following the courses of the river, by day and by night, he forced his
tireless way.

Success crowned his efforts at last, and he gained the shores of the
Ohio. But when he arrived upon the bank he found the river full and at
least a mile in width.

Unable to swim, for a time the scout was uncertain what his next move
should be. Fortunately, he found, on the bank near the place where he
was standing, an old canoe which had been driven against the shore.
Although the little craft was untrustworthy, one end having been badly
broken, the intrepid man succeeded in paddling his way in it to the
opposite bank.

Four days and four nights the scout had been running with only an
occasional brief respite. Throughout that time he had eaten but one
meal. His strength was failing, but his hope was strong, for Daniel
Boone was aware now that he was near to his home. At last the quaint
fort was seen before him and the end of the journey had been gained.

The return of the scout was almost like that of one who had come back
from the dead. Every man in the little settlement had believed that
Daniel Boone was to be seen no more. No tidings had come from faraway
Chillicothe, and no one in Boonesborough had any means of knowing what
had befallen the party in their labours at Blue Licks.

"W