xt7zcr5n9c2r https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7zcr5n9c2r/data/mets.xml Otis, James, 1848-1912. 19401912  books b92-35-26571249 English American Book Company, : New York ; Cincinnati : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Kentucky History To 1792 Juvenile fiction. Hannah of Kentucky : a story of the Wilderness road / by James Otis [pseud.] text Hannah of Kentucky : a story of the Wilderness road / by James Otis [pseud.] 1940 2002 true xt7zcr5n9c2r section xt7zcr5n9c2r 




















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A-  

 

HANNAH OF KENTUCKY





A STORY OF THE WILDERNESS ROAD





              BY
         JAMES OTIS



NEW YORK  CINCINNATI CHICAGO
   AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY

 































       COPTSIGHT, 1912, BY
     JAMES OTIS KALER.

ENKTBZD AT STAIONERS' HALL, LONDON.

      COPTRIGHT, 1940, BT
      AMY L. KALER.

      HANNAH OF KENTUCKT.
            L. P. 17



    JAMES OTIS'S PIONEER SERIES



ANTOINE OF OREGON: A STORY OF THE OREGON TRAIL.

BENJAMIN OF OHIO: A STORY OF THE SETTLEMENT OF
    MARIETTA.

HANNAH   OF KENTUCKY: A STORY OF TIE WILDERNESS
    ROAD.

MARTHA OF CALIFORNIA: A STORY OF THE CALIFORNIA
    TRAIL.

PHILIP OF TEXAS: A STORY OF SHEEP RAISING IN TEXAS.

SETH OF COLORADO: A STORY OF THE SETTLEMENT 0!
    DENVER.

 
FOREWORD



  THE author of this series of stories for children
has endeavored simply to show why and how the.
descendants of the early colonists fought their way
through the wilderness in search of new homes. The
several narratives deal with the struggles of those
adventurous people who forced their way westward,
ever westward, whether in hope of gain or in answer
to "the call of the wild," and who, in so doing,
wrote their names with their blood across this
country of ours from the Ohio to the Columbia.
  To excite in the hearts of the young people of
this land a desire to know more regarding the build-
ing up of this great nation, and at the same time
to entertain in such a manner as may stimulate to
noble deeds, is the real aim of these stories. In them
there is nothing of romance, but only a careful,
truthful record of the part played by children in
the great battles with those forces, human as well
as natural, which, for so long a time, held a vast
                         3

 
4                  FOREWORD

portion of this broad land against the advance of
home seekers.
  With the knowledge of what has been done by
our own people in our own land, surely there is
no reason why one should resort to fiction in order
to depict scenes of heroism, daring, and sublime
disregard of suffering in nearly every form.
                                   JAMES OTIS.


 

                CONTENTS
                                           PAGE
AT BOONESBOROUGH       .   .      .     .   9
BEGINNING THE STORY           .             IO
MR. BOONE ON THE YADKIN    .    .   .       II
MR. BOONE DECIDES TO MOVE HIS FAMILY    .   I 2
MAKING READY FOR THE JOURNEY                I4
WHAT WE WORE .     .   .   .                I 6
DRIVING CATTLE AND SHEEP   .                I7
CAMPING AT NIGHTFALL   .   .                19
THE LONG HALT .    .   .    .   .   .   .   21
JIMMY BooNE GOES TO THE CLINCH  .   .   .   22
MURDER OF JIMMY BOONE AND HIS COMPANIONS .  24
A TIME OF MOURNING .   .    .   .   .   .2
THE FAINT-HEARTED RETURN   .    .   .   .   26
A NEW HOME     .   .   .   .    .   .   .   28
MAKING MOCCASINS   .   .   .    .   .   .  29
TANNING LEATHER    .   .    .   .   .   .   30
GOVERNOR DUNMORE SENDS FOR MR. BOONE    .  32
OUR HoME ON THE CLINCH .   .    .   .   .  34
HOUSEHOLD DUTIES   .   .        .   .   .   36
ATTACKED BY A WILDCAT  .   .    .   .   .  39
FIGHTING WITH THE WILDCAT  .    .   .   .  41
MR. BOONE AND FATHER RETURN     .   .   .  43
THE WILDERNESS ROAD    .    .   .   .   .   45

 

6                 CONTENTS
                                             PAGE
BUILDING THE FORTS .                         47
SETTING OUT FOR BOONESBOROUGH             .  49
GATHERING SALT          .                    50
BOONESBOROUGH               .      .      .  52
PRECAUTIONS AGAINST AN ATTACK                54
OUR HOME IN THE FORT             .           56
MAKING READY FOR COOKING       .     .       57
FURNISHING THE HOUSE                      .  6i
THE HOMINY BLOCK            .    .           63
THE SUPPLY OF WATER              .           65
SPORTS INSIDE THE FORT                       67
WRESTLING AND RUNNING   .6
THE RELIGION OF THE INDIANS    .   .      .  71
INDIAN BABIES  .    .   .   .                73
COLONEL CALLAWAY ARRIVES       .   .      .  74
NEWS FROM THE EASTERN COLONIES               76
VENTURING OUTSIDE THE FORT  .    .           78
DIVIDING THE LAND  .    .   .    .   .    .  79
WHO OWNED KENTUCKY       .    .   .    .    8i
MAKING READY TO BUILD A HoME     .   .    .  83
BILLY'S HARD LOT    .   .   .85
PREPARING NETTLE-BARK FLAX  .    .   .    .  87
SPINNING AND SOAP MAKING.   .    .   .    .  89
BROOM MAKING   .    .   .   .    .   .    .  91
MORE INDIAN MURDERS       .    .   .      .  93
INDIAN "SIGNS  .    .   .   .    .   .    .  94
WOODCRAFT AND HUNTING   .                    97
PELTS USED AS MONEY       .      .   .    .  99

 

                   CONTENTS


Tim PETITION OF THE SETTLERS
MAKING SUGAR
BUILDING FENCES AND SHEARING SHEEP
THE CAPTURE OF THE GIRLS
MY WILLFUL THOUGHTS
FINDING THE TRAIL
THE PURSUIT
THE STORY TOLD BY JEMIMA
ELIZABETH'S HEROISM
RESCUING THE GIRLS
THE ALARM AMONG THE SETTLERS
INDIANS ON THE WARPATH
THE FIRST WEDDING IN KENTUCKY
THE WEDDING FESTIVITIES
THE BRIDE'S HOME
THE HOUSEWARMING
ATTACKS BY THE INDIANS
BESIEGED BY THE SAVAGES
IN THE MIDST OF THE FIGHT
THE ASSAULT BY THE INDIANS
FAILURE OF THE ASSAULT
THE WATCHFULNESS OF THE INDIANS
THE SORTIE
MY FATHER WOUNDED
OUR WOUNDED



        7
        PAGE
      I00
      103
      I05
      107
      109
      I I I
      I I 2

      I I4
      I I 5


     " I 9
   I 21
   I 23
   I 26
   I 28

     131
      I 2 3
      I34
     '34
    1 '37
    1 39
      I40
      I42

    1 '43
    1 '45
    1 146

 This page in the original text is blank.

 

HANNAH OF KENTUCKY


               AT BOONESBOROUGH

             HEN a girl fourteen years old, who has
             never been to a real school, sits down
             to write a story, she ought to explain
             her boldness. More than two years
   , i   ago my family came to Boonesborough
     id -N t2over the Wilderness Road with Mr.
              Daniel Boone. We believed then that
              it would not be very long before the
              Indians would be driven out of Ken-
              tucky; but they are making even more
              trouble for us now than when we first
              came here.
                It may not seem possible that the
Indians, who are surrounding our fort and forcing us to
stay inside, could have anything to do with my writing
what mother says will be a story such as the children
on the other side of the mountains have never read.
Yet, were it not for them, I should be at work in the
flax field to-day rather than sitting here in the cabin.
Mother says it will help to keep my mind from the



9


 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



dangers which beset us, if I tell how we happen to
be in Colonel Boone's fort on this day of August in
the year I777.
               BEGINNING THE STORY

  The greatest difficulty in writing a story of this sort
is in beginning it. I do not know what to say first, and
                                  mother has no time
                                  to help me, for she
                                  is too busy spinning
                                  threads of nettle
                                  flax. This kind of
                                  work is very hard,
                    at 5111   i)\ but she must do it
                                  or we shall soon be
                                  without cloth for
                                  garments. The In-
                                  dians are prowling
                                  around so thickly
                                  that we women and
                                  children may not
                                  venture into the
                                  flax  field  even
                                  though all the men
and boys in the fort go to guard us.
  It isn't to be supposed that any one outside our own
family will ever see what I am writing, and yet I ought



IO

 
MR. BOONE ON THE YADKIN



to begin it properly. Mother makes me laugh when
she says that my grandchildren will be interested in
reading of our life out here, where everything would
be so beautiful but for the savages. The idea of a girl
only fourteen years old writing something for her
grandchildren to read!


            MR. BOONE ON THE YADKIN

  My father's cabin stood next to the one built by Mr.
Daniel Boone, near the Yadkin River in North Caro-



lina, and I was born there a year after the birth of
Mr. Boone's daughter, Jemima.
  I cannot begin to tell what a venturesome life Mr.



IL I


 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



Boone has led. Even before he married Rebecca
Bryan, he went, some say, with General Braddoc:k to
fight the French and Indians. To this day I do not
believe any one can explain how he ever came out alive
from that terrible slaughter. Mother says he must
have had enough fighting then, for he came back meek
as any lamb and married Rebecca, expecting, I suppose,
to become a planter.
  But he must have soon given up all idea of settling
down, for I have been told that he spent the greater
portion of his time with his brother, Squire, - isn't
that an odd name -hunting and spying oult the
country until he came to believe there was no other
place like the country which the Shawnee Indians
called "Kaintuckee," or, as we say, Kentucky.
  It would take much too long if I should try to tell
you all he did and suffered. At one time he stayed
alone four months in the wilderness while Squire came
back to the Yadkin for powder, bullets, and salt.
Twice he was taken prisoner by the Indians; he lost
all the furs that had been gathered and came very
near to losing his life into the bargain.


     MR. BOONE DECIDES TO MOVE HIS FAMILY

  How strange things are in this world ! If Mr.
Boone hadn't spent so much time hunting and trap-



12


 
MR. BOONE DECIDES TO MOVE HIS FAMILY 13



ping, or hadn't met Mr. John Finley, who told him
about Kentucky, mother and I would probably now
be at the old
home on the Yad-        6
kin, instead of out
here beyond the
mountains,   be-    'Gil
sieged by Indians.             I
  However, Mr.
Boone did hear
about Kentucky
from  Mr. John      p
Finley, and he did
travel over the
mountains, and
the result of it
all was that, four
years ago, he came home with news of the wonderful
land on this side of Cumberland Gap, where he intended
to take his family.
  The stories he told of the new country in the hunt-
ing grounds of the Indians stirred all his neighbors so
greatly, that by the time he was ready to make a start
five other families had agreed to go with him, and one of
the five was ours.
  Mother said it was a big undertaking to cross the
mountains with two small children-meaning Billy

 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



and me; but father was determined to follow Mr.
Boone, and so we went.
  Before we started I thought, and so did Billy, that
it would be very fine to go with the hunters. Some of
the people seemed to think there was reason for :-egret
in leaving behind us the homes in which we had lived
so long; but Billy and I looked upon it as a brave deed
to follow Mr. Boone, the greatest hunter on the Yadkin.
  Jemima said it couldn't be any pleasure to her, be-
cause she would be forced to spend every moment look-
ing after the younger children while the rest of us were
having a good time; but we found out that it was all
work and no play for each of us from the very hour of
starting.

         MAKING READY FOR THE JOURNEY

  My father had two horses, on one of which mother
was to ride, while the other carried the few belongings
we were able to pack on his back.
  Mother made up small packages of seeds in linen
cloth, and father took the tools that would be needed
in the new home, as well as a bushel of meal and Ea side
of bacon. My best linsey-woolsey dress, a change of
clothes for mother, together with spare powder and
bullets, made up as much of a load as the poor old
horse could be expected to carry over the mountains.



14


 

MAKING READY FOR THE JOURNEY     '



  Now, doesn't that seem like a sorry outfit for four
geople going on a long journey, to say nothing of mak-
ing a new home 
  Of course we would have plenty to eat, for Mr. Boone
was very skillful with his long rifle, which carried forty



bullets to the pound, even though the other men, in-
cluding my father, might not be good marksmen.
  Even Billy has sometimes brought home a deer and
so many turkeys that I could hardly count them, al-
though hunting on the Yadkin is not considered good.
      HANNAH OF KENTUCKY - 2



IS


 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



Billy declared that he could shoot enough to feed u.
all, and he is only thirteen years old, though large for
his age, being able to hold his own at wrestling with
any other of his weight in the settlements.


                  WHAT WE WORE

                          Billy had a splendid hunt-
                        ing shirt of browr linen,
                        which I had made for him;
                        the bosom of it was double
                        and sewed together -o form
                        a pocket where he could
                    \1  carry tow for wiping the bar-
                        rel of his gun, or even food.
                        It was belted with a strip of
               ihr     soft-tanned deer hide, tied
                        behind, with the end, hang-
               , ,'1/  ing down. I had intended
       1 r             f fib isto ornament the ends with
       ''      (    11t !i T N \ colored porcupine quills, like
  bjS4 ill, if V \ 1\ the belt worn by Ir. Boone;
    _2. 4          4   but Billy didn't kill a porcu-
                        pine until two days before
we started, and then it was too late. In the belt were
a tomahawk and a scalping knife in a deerskin sheath,
all exactly like father's. He had a coonskin cap, with



i6


 
DRIVING CATTLE AND SHEEP



the tail hanging down behind, and the stoutest mocca-
sins mother could make.
  I had made his leggings from a doeskin which
father had tanned, and had fringed them on the out-
side of each leg in a beautiful way; but he had been in
the creek with them on so many times that no one
would ever have been able to say what the color was.
  I wore shoepacks, and so did mother, because Mr.
Boone was in such a hurry to get away that we hadn't
time to make moccasins. We both had brand-new
sunbonnets, and our linsey-woolseys were also much
the same as new, not having been in use as dress-up
clothes for more than a year.














            DRIVING CATTLE AND SHEEP
  Father decided to take with him two cows and five
sheep; the other men had more or less live stock, all



17


 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



of which were to be driven in one herd, with us children
to look after them. It was pretty hard work i1o keep
the animals together after we came upon the mountains.
where the road was just a narrow trail, or trace, as Mr.
Boone calls it.
  There were nine cows and twenty sheep, and only
twelve children to drive them. From  morn:ng till
                                 night we ran into
                                 the thickets, first on
                this side and then on
                                 that, to keep them
                                 on the trail, climb-
         Att   cz t     w      ing, climbing all the
                                 time, until it seemed
                                 to me now and then
                                 as if I cotld not
                                 take another step
                                 even  though   the
                                 whole herd were lost.
                                   Sometimes mother
                                 got down from the
                                 horse, and I took her
                       , W S    place in the saddle.
                                 But Billy had no
such chance to rest his legs nor would he hav2 taken
advantage of it no matter how weary, because he wished
to show that he was already -a hunter and trapper.

 
CAMPING AT NIGHTFALL



  Jemima Boone declared that she wouldn't ride a
horse while her mother walked, and during the first
four days of the journey she followed the cattle until
her dress was actually in rags, and she had lost her only
sunbonnet into a stream that whirled it away before
she had time to cry out.
  I noticed that after the sunbonnet had gone she
seemed to lose courage, although the trail was no more
difficult than might have been expected, but from that
time, I think, she rode as often as I did.


              CAMPING AT NIGHTFALL

  The men went on ahead, leaving the older boys to
look after the women and children. Often and often
we did not see them from the beginning of the journey
in the morning until we made camp at night. A
lean-to of branches and vines with a fire in front of
it was our only shelter from the dew until we came
through the Gap into Kentucky. Then, as there was
danger from the Indians, we lay down on the ground.
  There were days when we had really pleasant camp-
ing places, and the halt was made early in the after-
noon that we might rest sufficiently. Then I was glad
that we were going into that land which Mr. Boone
said was so beautiful. At such times we had feasts of
deer meat or turkeys roasted over a bed of glowing



I9


 

HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



coals, with as much journey cake I as we could eat
sopped in meat drippings, which we had caught in
dishes of bark.
  But the time came when we no longer dared -o build
a fire. We went hungry to bed on the ground with



not even a lean-to for shelter, because it would have
been dangerous to build a fire that might betray our
whereabouts to the Indians.
  It was one weary day after another. But th ere was
less labor for us children because our fathers did not
dare let us stray very far into the forest in search of
the cattle or sheep, lest the Indians should find us.
    I This was probably the original form of the word johnnycake.



20


 
THE LONG HALT



  I could not, if I would, set down the whole story of
our climbing the hills until we came to Powell's Valley.
There we had a view of the mountains which shut
us out from the land in which we were to make new
homes.
                 THE LONG HALT

  Finally we came to a place where Mr. Boone believed
we were no longer in danger of being attacked by the
                Indians.  Here it was decided to
                make a long halt in order that we
        cKEep     children and our mothers might
                     get sufficient rest to put us in
                 _W\a! condition for the more diffi-
                        cult part of the journey. I
                   \\'  said to myself that if the
                         trace was to be any more
                         wearing, it was likely that
                           some of us would fall by
                           the wayside.
               A 9gs +X-+,     In order that we
                                might be   better
                                sheltered from the
                                weather, father
spread on stakes all our blankets, covering them with
branches, lest a sudden wind should blow our poor hut
away. While mother made ready the morning meal,



21

 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



Billy and I lay near the camp fire and kept our eyes
on the cattle that were feeding on the grass. 'We both
felt the delight of being able thus to idle away the time.


        JIMMY BOONE GOES TO THE CLINCH

  Before breakfast was cooked, and .1 well remember
that the last of our store of meal was used for the
journey cake that morning, Jemima Boone camle to tell
us that her oldest brother, Jimmy, and two of the men
were to ride over to the Clinch River, in the hope of
being able to buy some meal from the settlers.
  "Father says that Jimmy must now do the work of
a man, and surely you never saw a prouder Loy than
he was when he rode off at the head of the little party."
  "Will they be away long" Billy asked, and Jemima
replied with a laugh: --
  "No; so we need not feel lonely. Father has given
orders that they come back by sunset, whether they
buy any meal or not."
  "Is he afraid the Indians may be near" Billy
asked, and Jemima laughed as if he had said something
comical.
  " While we are here in the valley there is no fear
that they will bother us. To tell the truth, Hannah,
I am beginning to believe so much has been said about
the danger in order that we might keep sharper watch



22


 
JIMMY BOONE GOES TO THE CLINCH



over the cattle and sheep. Surely if there were any
Indians this side of the Cumberland Mountains, we
should have seen them days and days ago."
  Then Jemima left us to tell
the other children where Jimmy
had gone, for she enjoyed
spreading news.
  When night came once       4 t  
more, Jimmy Boone g
and those who had
ridden with him had
not returned, and I asked Mrs.
Boone if she was afraid some
trouble might have come, or
whether he had not lost the
trace 
  She laughed at such a fool-
ish question, declaring that
Jimmy was nearly as well able to take care of himself
as was his father, and that she would be ashamed
of him if at his age he could not ride from Powell's
Valley to the Clinch River without going astray.
  But the poor boy had mistaken the trail, as we
were soon to learn. Next morning a white man and
a negro rode into camp at full speed, as if the Indians
were close at their heels, and then we heard this most
cruel story: -



23


 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



   MURDER OF JIMMY BOONE AND HIS COMPAN::ONS

   James and the two men of our company hac found
their way to the Clinch River without trouble, aLnd the
settlers at that place were so well supplied with meal
as to be willing to let us have more than Jimmy and
his companions could carry. Six of the people there-
fore proposed to visit our camp, bringing the meal on
their horses.
  When they were within three miles of our camp3, they
wandered from the trace into the darkness. Bclieving















it would be better to make camp and wait until morning,
when there would be no difficulty in finding their way,
they came to a halt. They felt secure against a visit
from the Indians, and so built a camp fire and made



24

 
A TIME OF MOURNING



themselves as comfortable as possible, even lying down
to sleep without a guard.
  A band of Shawnee Indians, who had been on a raid
to the Cherokee villages on the Little Tennessee River,
came upon the slumbering men and killed and scalped
all save the two who had ridden into our camp.
  Our fathers believed that the Shawnees were probably
lingering near at hand, awaiting a favorable chance to
fall upon our party, and made such preparations to
protect us as were in their power. The women were
armed with pistols or rifles, and boys even younger
than Billy were called upon to act the part of men.
  And during all that time Mr. Boone and his wife
were grieving over the death of their oldest son!


               A TIME OF MOURNING

  As mother says, those who have been killed are past
all care save that of God, and the living must put away
their grief to guard each other. It was my first lesson
of the many needed, to make me understand how hard
are the lives of the men and women who prepare the
way in the wilderness.
  Jemima and I sat by the embers of the neglected
fire, clasped in each other's arms and weeping bitterly.
Mother, thinking, perhaps, to stop us, said that it was
our lot to bear these trials without repining, in the



25

 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



belief that a great people coming later in our footsteps
would remember with gratitude our names and deeds
when this vast, awful wilderness should be filled with
happy, peaceful homes.
  Not until the next day did Mr. Boone, my father,
and the two from the Clinch River go out to bury the
dead, and while they were away those of us who were
not standing guard sat silently in a group.
  There was never a tear on Mr. Boone's face when he
came back. He spoke to no one, not even when he
laid his hand on his wife's shoulder and kissed in turn
each of his children; but he looked from time to time
at the priming of his rifle, as if believing an opportunity
might speedily come when he would be able to use the
weapon against those who had caused the death of
his boy.


            THE FAINT-HEARTED RETURN

  During this evening the men began to talk of going
back to the Yadkin. All save my father and Mr.
Boone appeared to think it useless to travel farther
toward Kentucky, for it seemed certain that the Indians
were on the warpath and that it would be inviting
death to continue the journey.
  While they talked the matter over, some of the people
being especially fearful lest the Indians make another



26


 

THE FAINT-HEARTED RETURN



attack at once, a company from the valley of Virginia
arrived on their way across the Gap, and halted in
alarm on learning of the murders. It seemed as if the
stronger we grew in numbers, the greater became the















                           .               -\



terror of all, and the more reason why every attempt
to get into Kentucky should be abandoned.
  Mr. Boone declared flatly that he ws ould take his
family to the Clinch River and remain there until he
could know what the savages were about, rather than
go back to the Yadkin, and my father pledged himself
to do the same, despite all that the strangers and our
old neighbors could say against it.
  Two days passed before the question was finally



27


 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



settled, and then all the men, with their families, save
only Mr. Boone and my father, set off on the back-
ward trail, leaving us alone. It made me homesick
to see them marching away, while we remained in the
very midst of the savage Indians; but not for worlds
would I have admitted that I felt sad because of the
parting.



                   A NEW HOMIE
  Within an hour after they left us we started for the
river, traveling as we had while coming over the moun-



28


 
MAKING MOCCASINS



tains, with us children looking after the cattle, while the
two men, with Israel Boone and Billy, scouted slowly
ahead on the lookout for danger. Before the sun set
again we had come to an abandoned cabin on the bank
of the Clinch; none of us expected to stay there many
days, and yet it was nearly two years before we left.
  Father straightway took the boys on a hunt, and
while he was away, Mr. Boone made a large trough
                    from the trunk of a honey-locust
                    tree, sinking it in the earth, so
                    that Airs. Boone might tan some
             I,      of the deer hides which our
 9         hunters were certain to
             -             bring back, for her chilP
                             dren were badly off for
                                both moccasins and
                                shoepacks.

                                MAKING MOCCASINS

                                    _Mother  makes.
                            -    moccasins for us
                                  children by having
                                  us put our bare
                                  feet on a piece of
wet, smoke-tanned deer hide. Then she draws the skin
up around each foot, tying it in place, and we sit before



29

 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



the fire until it dries. By this means she gets the form
of the bottom and sides of the moccasin, and it only
remains to gather this to a top piece with linen thread
or deer sinews, after it has dried and been rubbed soft
on the edges. Then the heel seam is to be sewed up
stoutly, without gathers, and as high as the ankle
joint. The lower part must have left on it two flaps
four or five inches long by which the boys may bind
their moccasins to the bottom of the leggings.
  Shoepacks are made in much the same w ay, except
that they are formed of leather and have no flaps. A
sole of elk hide is put on if one can get it, and we girls
are proud indeed when our shoepacks are thus stiffened
on the bottom.

                 TANNING LEATHER

  Tanning leather, whether you do it in the white man's
way or work it down by rubbing and smoking after
the Indian fashion, is wearisome labor, yet Mrs. Boone
is very clever at the business and keeps our family well
supplied when the hunting is good.
  For a vat she uses such a trough as I have just spoken
of, and we children are set at gathering and drying
bark, after which we pound or scrape it into fine frag-
ments such as can be soaked readily. She uses hard-
wood ashes instead of lime for taking off the hair, and
bear's grease or fat because of the lack of fish oil. One



30


 
               TANNING LEATHER                  3I

of the men curries it with any kind of knife that is at
hand, and we children make a blacking of soot and hog's
lard, rubbing it in well with blocks of wood.
  When we were on the Yadkin, I saw shoes which had
been put together by a man whose trade it was to make






                        .,, ,.















them. The leather was beautifully black and glossy,
but mother doubted if it would wear as well as that
which we make with so much hard labor.
  Father and the boys came back with all the game
they could stagger under, and went off again next day
      HANNAH OF KENTUCKY-3


 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



with two of the horses to bring in the meLt that had
been left hanging in the forest. Two b'2ars, seven
deer, and six big turkeys, to say nothing of many squir-
rels, made up such a store of food that it did not seem
possible we could eat it all during the short time we
might stay there.
  Every one of us except Johnny Boone, the baby, set
about curing the meat, expecting to carry it with us into
Kentucky. Yet the days went by, sometimes slowly,
and sometimes, when we felt reasonably safe against the
Indians, rapidly, until winter had come anct gone, our
fathers all the while thinking that it would be dan-
gerous to lead us across the mountains.
  It must not be supposed that we had nothing to do.
The men spent the greater part of their time in ranging
through the woods in order to hunt or to 'earn what
the savages were about. We children were forced to
scrape away the snow here and there that the animals
might feed upon the grass of the last summer, and our
mothers were kept busy from sunrise to surnset at one
household duty or another.


    GOVERNOR DUNMORE SENDS FOR MR. BOONE

  Thus the days passed until warm weather came once
more. We were beginning to make preparations for
leaving the old cabin, when a messenger came from



32


 
GOVERNOR DUNMORE SENDS FOR MR. BOONE 33



Watauga in search of Jemima's father. He told us that
Governor Dunmore had sent him to ask Mr. Boone
and my father to go into Kentucky and warn the white
people, who were in the wilderness surveying the land,
                    against remaining any longer.
                    It was the governor's plan to
                    wage war upon the Indians
                '\ who had their hunting grounds
                            where ourpeople wanted
                            to settle, and he wished
                            to make certain that all
                            the white men should
                 0sf  ' -  know what was about
                            to happen.
                            Had we dreamed that
                      -  - father might be away from
                  /  us long, both mother and I
                      would have said all we could
               to prevent him from leaving us; but,
         (f is not realizing how difficult and danger-
               ous the task was to be, and rejoic-
ing because he had a chance to earn some money,
we held our peace, only insisting that a generous
supply of meat should be brought in before he
started.
The messenger from Watauga joined our fathers in the
hunt, and within three days there was piled up in front

 
HANNAH OF KENTUCKY



of the cabin, or hangin