Early in the morning of January 17, 1781, after a hard night march, Tarleton, overconfident of success, attacked Morgan at Cowpens, in the northern part of South Carolina. The Americans stood up bravely against the attack and won a brilliant victory. The British lost almost their entire force, including six hundred prisoners.

Cornwallis was bitterly disappointed, for his plan, undertaken in such confidence, had ended in a crushing defeat. However, gathering his forces together, he set out to march rapidly across country in pursuit of Morgan, hoping to overwhelm him and recapture the six hundred British prisoners before he could join Greene's army.

But Morgan was too wary to be caught napping, and, suspecting that this would be Cornwallis's game, he retreated rapidly in a northeasterly direction toward that part of the army under Greene.

Meantime Greene had heard the glorious news of the American victory at Cowpens, and he too realized that there was great danger of Morgan's falling into the hands of Cornwallis. To prevent this, and at the same time draw Cornwallis far away from his supplies at Wilmington, he decided to go to Morgan's relief.

Sending his army by an easier, roundabout route, he himself with a small guard rode swiftly a distance of one hundred and fifty miles across the rough country and joined Morgan on the last day of January.

Morgan was cleverly retreating with Cornwallis in hot pursuit. For ten days the race for life continued, with the chances in favor of Cornwallis, for his army was larger, besides being trained and disciplined.

This was a famous retreat. It covered a distance of two hundred miles through the Carolinas, across three rivers whose waters, swollen by recent rains, rose rapidly after the Americans had crossed, and checked the British in their pursuit. When the last river, the Dan, was forded, the chase was so close that the rear of the retreating army had a skirmish with the van of the pursuers. Yet Greene was so alert and skilful that he escaped every danger and saved his army.

In this trying campaign valuable aid was given by "partisans" in the south. These were private companies, not part of the regular army. Such companies had been formed in the south by both sides, and that is why they were called "partisans."

MARION, THE "SWAMP FOX"

Perhaps the most noted partisan leader was Francis Marion, of South Carolina. He was born in Georgetown, South Carolina, in 1732, and was therefore the same age as Washington. Although as a child he was very frail, he became strong as he grew older. As a man he was short and slight of frame, but strong and hardy in constitution.



When the British began to swarm into South Carolina, Marion raised and drilled a company of neighbors and friends, known as "Marion's Brigade." These men were without uniforms or tents, and they served without pay. They did not look much like soldiers on parade, but were among the bravest and best fighters of the Revolution. Their swords were beaten out of old mill-saws at the country forge, and their bullets were made largely from pewter mugs and other pewter utensils. Their rations were very scant and simple. Marion, their leader, as a rule, ate hominy and potatoes and drank water flavored with a little vinegar.

The story is told that one day a British officer came to the camp with a flag of truce. After the officers had talked, Marion, with his usual delicate courtesy, invited the visitor to dinner. We can imagine the Englishman's surprise when, on a log which made the camp table, there was served a dinner consisting only of roasted sweet potatoes passed on pieces of bark! The officer was still more amazed to learn that even potatoes were something of a luxury.

Marion's brigade of farmers and hunters seldom numbered more than seventy, and often less than twenty. But with this very small force he annoyed the British beyond measure by rescuing prisoners, and by capturing supply-trains and outposts.



One day a scout brought in the report that a party of ninety British with two hundred prisoners were on the march for Charleston. Waiting for the darkness to conceal his movements, Marion with thirty men sallied out, swooped down upon the British camp, capturing the entire force and rescuing all the American prisoners.

It was the custom of Marion's men, when hard pressed by a superior force, to scatter, each man looking out for himself. Often they would dash headlong into a dense, dark swamp, to meet again at some place agreed upon. Even while they were still in hiding, they would sometimes dart out just as suddenly as they had vanished, and surprise another squad of British which might be near at hand. "Swamp Fox" was the name the British gave to Marion.

With the aid of such partisan bands, and with skilful handling of his army, Greene was more than a match for Cornwallis. He was not strong enough just yet for a pitched battle, but he kept Cornwallis chasing without losing his own army. That was about all he could hope to do for a while.

But when he received recruits from Virginia, he thought it wise to strike a blow, even though he could not win a victory. Turning, therefore, upon his enemy, he fought a battle at Guilford Court House, North Carolina (March, 1781).

He was defeated, but came off as well as he expected, and so crippled the British army that Cornwallis had to retreat. He went to the coast to get supplies for his half-starved men. Like the battle of Bunker Hill, it was a dearly bought victory for the British.

Cornwallis now saw clearly that he could not hope longer for success in the south, and having taken on fresh supplies, he marched northward to try his luck at Yorktown, Virginia.

Washington, with an army of French and American troops, was at the time in camp on the Hudson River, waiting for the coming of the French fleet to New York. That city was still in the hands of the British. As soon as this fleet should arrive, Washington expected to attack the British army in New York by land, while the fleet attacked it by sea.

But the French fleet was well on its way to the Chesapeake instead of to New York as expected. When this information came to Washington, he worked out a bold and brilliant scheme. It was to march his army as quickly and as secretly as possible to Yorktown, a distance of four hundred miles, there join the American army under Lafayette, and, combining with the French fleet on its arrival, capture the British under Cornwallis.

This daring scheme succeeded so well that Cornwallis surrendered his entire army of eight thousand men on October 19, 1781. This important event, which practically ended the war, we shall speak of again.

The surrender at Yorktown ended the fighting, although the treaty of peace was not signed until 1783. By that treaty the Americans won their independence from England. The country which they could now call their own extended from Canada to Florida, and from the Atlantic Ocean to the Mississippi River.

After the treaty of peace was signed, and the army disbanded, General Greene went home. In 1785 he moved with his family to a plantation which the State of Georgia had given him. Here he lived in quiet and happiness, but only a short time, for he died of sunstroke at the age of forty-four. His comrade Anthony Wayne, voiced the feeling of his countrymen when he said: "I have seen a great and good man die."

SOME THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

1. Tell what you can about General Greene's early life.

2. What was the condition of his army when he took command in the South? How did he prove his strength at that time?

3. What kind of man was Daniel Morgan, and what do you think of him?

4. Tell all you can about Marion, the "Swamp Fox," and his ways of making trouble for the British.

5. When did the Revolution begin? When did it end? What did the Americans win by the treaty? What was the extent of our country at that time?



CHAPTER VI

JOHN PAUL JONES

While the Revolution was being fought out on the land, important battles were taking place also at sea. Until this war began, the Americans had had no need of a navy because the mother country had protected them. But when unfriendly feeling arose, Congress ordered war vessels to be built. These were very useful in capturing British vessels, many of which were loaded with arms and ammunition intended for British soldiers. Powder, as you will remember, was sorely needed by Washington's army.



Among the men who commanded the American war vessels were some noted sea-captains, the most famous of whom was John Paul Jones.

He was of Scottish birth. His father, John Paul, was a gardener, who lived on the southwestern coast of Scotland. The cottage in which our hero spent his early boyhood days stood near the beautiful bay called Solway Firth, which made a safe harbor for ships in time of storm.

Here little John Paul heard many sailors tell thrilling stories of adventure at sea and in far-away lands. Here, also, to the inlets along the shore, the active lad and his playmates took their tiny boats and made believe they were sailors, John Paul always acting as captain. Sometimes when he was tired and all alone, he would sit by the hour watching the big waves rolling in, and dreaming perhaps of the day when he would become a great sea-captain.

When he was only twelve, he wished to begin his life as a real sailor. So his father apprenticed him to a merchant at Whitehaven who owned a vessel and traded in goods brought from other lands. Soon afterward John Paul went on a voyage to Virginia, where the vessel was to be loaded with tobacco. While there he visited an older brother, who owned a plantation at Fredericksburg.

For six years John Paul remained with the Whitehaven merchant, and during this time he learned much about good seamanship. After the merchant failed in business, John Paul still continued to follow a seafaring life, and in a short time became a captain. But when his brother in Virginia died, John Paul went to Fredericksburg to manage the plantation his brother had left.

It was now his intention to spend the rest of his life here, but, like Patrick Henry, he failed as a farmer. In fact, it would seem that he was born to be a sailor.

In the meantime he had come to be a loyal American, and when the Revolution broke out he determined to offer his services to Congress. When he did so, he changed his name to John Paul Jones. Just why, we do not know.



Congress accepted his services by appointing him first lieutenant. He proved himself so able that in the second year of the war he was put in command of two vessels, with which he captured sixteen prizes in six weeks.

In the following year he was appointed captain of the Ranger and sent to France with letters to Benjamin Franklin, who was then American commissioner at the French court, trying to secure aid for the American cause.

At that time English vessels were annoying American coasts by burning and destroying property. Jones got permission from Franklin to attack British coasts in the same way, and he was allowed to sail from France in his vessel with that purpose in view.

His plan was to sail along the western coast of England and set fire to the large shipping-yards at Whitehaven, with which harbor, you remember, he had become familiar in boyhood. He meant to burn all the three hundred vessels lying at anchor there. Although he succeeded in setting fire to only one large ship, he alarmed the people all along the coast. The warning was carried from town to town: "Beware of Paul Jones, the pirate!"

An English war vessel, the Drake, was sent out to capture the Ranger. As the Drake carried two more guns and a crew better drilled for fighting, it was thought she would make short work of the American ship in a fight. But it was just the other way, for after a battle of a single hour the English vessel surrendered, having lost many men. The American loss was only two men killed and six wounded.

After this brilliant victory the young captain put back to France. There he found great rejoicing among the people, whose good-will was more with America than with England. And as war had already broken out between France and England, the French King was quite willing to furnish Jones with a considerable naval force.

A DESPERATE SEA DUEL

Accordingly, in August, 1779, Captain Jones put to sea once more, this time with a fleet of four vessels. He named his flag-ship Bon Homme Richard (bo-nom'-rē-shaer'), after the Richard of Poor Richard's Almanac, which you will remember Benjamin Franklin had written.

In this ship, which was old, he set out to cruise along the western coast of Ireland, in order to capture English merchant vessels. After reaching the southern point of Ireland, he cruised northward around Scotland and down its eastern coast. Then he sailed up and down the eastern coast of England, looking for merchant vessels.

At noon on the 23d of September Jones sighted a fleet of forty-two merchantmen, guarded by two English ships of war, all sailing from the north. He at once decided to make an attack. This took place early in the evening, the action being mainly between the Richard and the English man-of-war Serapis, which was a large ship, new and swift, and very much better than the Richard.

During the first hour the American vessel got the worst of the fight and "was leaking like a basket." The English captain, feeling sure of victory, called out: "Has your ship struck?" Our hero, Paul Jones, shouted back: "I have not yet begun to fight!"

As the British vessel came alongside his own for a more deadly struggle, Jones with his own hands lashed the two together. Soon both were badly leaking, but the fighting went on as fiercely as ever. Presently both caught fire.



Then Jones turned his cannon upon the mainmast of the Serapis, and when it threatened to fall the English captain surrendered. So after all it was the English ship and not the American that "struck" the flag. But the Richard could not have held out much longer, for even before the surrender she had begun to sink.

When the English captain gave up his sword to John Paul Jones, he said: "It is very hard to surrender to a man who has fought with a halter around his neck." You see, Captain Jones would have been hanged as a pirate, if taken. Jones replied: "Sir, you have fought like a hero. I hope your King will reward you."

This was a desperate sea duel, and it lasted from half past seven in the evening until ten o'clock. It was important also in its results, for it won much needed respect for our flag and gave a wonderful uplift to the American cause. The victor, John Paul Jones, who was loaded with honors, from that day took rank with the great sea-captains of the world.

SOME THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

1. Tell all you can about the early life of John Paul Jones.

2. Why did the English call him a pirate when he was sailing along the British coasts in order to destroy property?

3. What was the outcome of the desperate sea duel between the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis?

4. What do you admire about John Paul Jones?

5. Do not fail to locate every event upon the map.



CHAPTER VII

DANIEL BOONE

You remember that when the Last French War began, in 1756, the English colonists lived almost entirely east of the Alleghany Mountains. If you will look at your map, you will see how small a part of our present great country they occupied.

Even up to the beginning of the Revolution the Americans had few settlers west of the Alleghanies, and had done very little there to make good their claims to land.

Yet at the close of the war we find that their western boundary-line had been pushed back as far as the Mississippi River. How this was done we shall see if we turn our attention to those early hunters and backwoodsmen who did great service to our country as pioneers in opening up new lands.

One of the most famous of these was Daniel Boone. He was born in Pennsylvania, and, like many of the heroes of the Revolution, he was born in the "thirties" (1735).

As a boy, Daniel liked to wander in the woods with musket and fishing-rod, and was never so happy as when alone in the wild forest. The story is told that while a mere lad he wandered one day into the woods some distance from home and built himself a rough shelter of logs, where he would spend days at a time, with only his rifle for company.



As he was a "good shot," we may be sure he never went hungry for lack of food. The game which his rifle brought down he would cook over a pile of burning sticks. If you have done outdoor camp cooking, you can almost taste its woodland flavor. Then at night as he lay under the star-lit sky on a bed of leaves, with the skin of a wild animal for covering, a prince might have envied his dreamless slumber.

This free, wild life made him thoroughly at home in the forests, and trained him for the work he was to do later as a fearless hunter and woodsman.

When Daniel was about thirteen years old his father removed to North Carolina and settled on the Yadkin River. There the boy grew to manhood. After his marriage, at twenty, he built himself a hut far out in the lonely forest, beyond the homes of the other settlers.

But he was a restless man and looked with longing toward the rugged mountains on the west. Along the foothills other pioneer settlers and hunters had taken up their abode. And young Boone's imagination leaped to the country beyond the mountains, where the forest stretched for miles upon miles, no one knew how far, to the Mississippi River. It was an immense wilderness teeming with game, and he wanted to hunt and explore in it.

He was twenty-five when he made the first "long hunt" we know about. At this time he went as far as what is now Boone's Creek, in eastern Tennessee.

Other trips doubtless he made which increased his love for wandering; and in 1769, nine years after his first trip, having heard from a stray Indian of a wonderful hunting-ground far to the west, he started out with this Indian and four other men to wander through the wilderness of Kentucky.

For five weeks these bold hunters threaded their way through lonely and pathless mountain forests, facing many dangers from wild beasts and Indians.

BOONE GOES TO KENTUCKY

But when, in June, they reached the blue-grass region of Kentucky, a beautiful land of stretching prairies, lofty forests, and running streams, they felt well repaid for all the hardships of their long journey. It was indeed as the Indian had said, alive with game. Buffaloes, wolves, bears, elk, deer, and wild beasts of many kinds abounded, making truly a hunter's paradise.

They at once put up a log shelter, and for six months they hunted to their hearts' content. Then one day two of the party, Boone himself and a man named Stewart, while off on a hunting expedition, were captured by an Indian band. For several days the dusky warriors carefully guarded the two white captives. But on the seventh night, having eaten greedily of game they had killed during the day, they fell into a sound sleep.



Then Boone, who had been watching for this chance, arose quietly from his place among the sleeping Indians and gently wakened Stewart. The two crept stealthily away until out of hearing of the Indians, when, rising to their feet, they bounded off like deer through the dark woods to their own camp. But they found no one there, for the rest of the party had fled back home.

However, Boone and Stewart stayed on, and some weeks later they were pleasantly surprised when Daniel's brother, Squire Boone, also a woodsman, unexpectedly arrived with another man and joined the camp. The four were quite contented, living and hunting together, until one day Stewart was shot by an Indian and killed. His death so frightened the man who had come over the mountains with Squire Boone, that the woods lost their charm for the poor fellow and he went back home.

So only the two brothers were left. They remained together three months longer in a little cabin in the forest. Then, as their powder and lead were getting low, Squire Boone returned to North Carolina for a fresh supply, leaving his brother to hold the hunting-ground.

Now Boone was left all alone. His life was continually in danger from the Indians. For fear of being surprised, he dared not sleep in camp, but hid himself at night in the cane-brake or thick underbrush, not even kindling a fire lest he should attract the Indians.

During these weeks of waiting for his brother, he led a very lonely life. In all that time he did not speak to a single human being, nor had he even a dog, cat, or horse for company. Without salt, sugar, or flour, his sole food was the game he shot or caught in traps.

How gladly he must have welcomed his brother, who returned at the end of two months, bringing the needed supplies! Other hunters also came from time to time, and Boone joined one party of them for a while.

After two years of his life in the woods he returned to his home on the Yadkin to bring out his wife and children.

By September, 1773, he had sold his farm and was ready with his family to go and settle in Kentucky. He had praised the new land so much that many others wished to go with him. So when he started there were, besides his wife and children, five families and forty men driving their horses and cattle before them. This group was the first to attempt settlement far out in the wilderness, away from the other settlers.

But while still on its way, the little company was set upon by a band of Indians near a narrow and difficult pass in the mountains. Six men were killed, among them Boone's eldest son, and the cattle were scattered. This misfortune brought such gloom upon the party that all turned back for a time to a settlement on the Clinch River.

But Daniel Boone was one of those who would not give up. He said of himself that he was "ordained of God to settle the wilderness," and in the end he carried out his unflinching purpose to make his home in the beautiful Kentucky region.

This region had already become well known by report east of the mountains. The Indians called it "a dark and bloody ground," for, as an old chief told Boone, many tribes hunted and fought there, and the Indians had roamed over it for hundreds of years.

But none of the tribes really owned the land. So it was not possible to buy any part of it outright. Yet, to avoid strife, a friend of Boone's, Richard Henderson, and a few others made treaties with the most powerful tribe, the Cherokees, who said that they might settle there.

As soon as it became certain that the Indians would not make trouble, Henderson sent Boone, in charge of thirty men, to open a pathway from the Holston River through Cumberland Gap to the Kentucky River.

With their axes the men chopped out a path through the dense undergrowth and cane-brakes broad enough for a pack-horse. You will be interested to know that this bridle-path was the beginning of the famous "Wilderness Road," as it is still called. Later the narrow trail was widened into a highway for wagons, and it was along this way, rightly called a "wilderness road," that in later years so many thousand settlers led their pack-trains over the mountains into Kentucky and Tennessee.

But that is taking a long look ahead! Just now we are thinking about the very first of these settlers, Daniel Boone and his company.

THE KENTUCKY SETTLERS AT BOONESBOROUGH

When they reached the Kentucky River, Boone and his followers built a fort on the left bank of the stream and called it Boonesborough. Its four walls consisted in part of the outer sides of log cabins, and in part of a stockade, some twelve feet high, made by setting deep into the ground stout posts with pointed tops. In all the cabins there were loopholes through which to shoot, and at each corner of the fort stood a loophole blockhouse. There were also two strong wooden gates on opposite sides of the fort.



After the fort was built, Boone went back to the Clinch River and brought on his wife and children. When they settled, it was springtime, and Kentucky was at its best. Trees were in leaf, the beautiful dogwood was in flower, and the woods were fragrant with the blossoms of May. Do you wonder that they loved their new home?

At first the cattle and horses were always driven into the fort at night. Later, however, every settler had a cabin in his own clearing, where he lived with his family and took care of his own stock. But even then in time of great danger all went to the fort, driving their animals inside its walls. This fort, with the outlying cabins, made the first permanent settlement in Kentucky.

Boone was a man you would have liked to know. Even the Indians admired him. He was tall and slender, with muscles of iron, and so healthy and strong that he could endure great hardship. Though quiet and serious, his courage never shrank in the face of danger, and men believed in him because he believed in himself, while at the same time his kind heart and tender sympathy won him lasting friendships. These vigorous and sterling qualities commanded respect everywhere.

As a rule he wore the Indian garb of fur cap, fringed hunting-shirt, moccasins and leggings, all made from the skins of wild animals he had taken. This dress best suited the wilderness life.

Of course, this life in a new country would not be without its exciting adventures. One day, some months after Boone's family had come to Boonesborough, Boone's daughter, with two girl friends, was on the river floating in a boat near the bank. Suddenly five Indians darted out of the woods, seized the three girls, and hurried away with them. In their flight the Indians observed the eldest of the girls breaking twigs and dropping them in their trail. They threatened to tomahawk her unless she stopped it. But, watching her chance, from time to time she tore off strips of her dress and dropped them as a clew for those she knew would come to rescue them.

When the capture became known, Boone, accompanied by the three lovers of the captured maidens and four other men from the fort, started upon the trail and kept up the pursuit until, early on the second morning, they discovered the Indians sitting around a fire cooking breakfast. Suddenly the white men fired a volley, killing two of the Indians and frightening the others so badly that they beat a hasty retreat without harming the girls.

Another exciting experience, which nearly caused the settlement to lose its leader, came about through the settlers' need of salt. We can get salt so easily that it is hard to imagine the difficulty which those settlers, living far back from the ocean, had in obtaining this necessary part of their food. They had to go to "salt-licks," as they called the grounds about the salt-water springs. The men would get the salt water from the springs and boil it until all the water evaporated and left the salt behind.

Boone with twenty-nine other men had gone, early in 1778, to the Blue Licks to make salt for the settlement. They were so successful that in a few weeks they were able to send back a load so large that it took three men to carry it. Hardly had they started, however, when the men remaining, including Boone, were surprised by eighty or ninety Indians, captured, and carried off to the English at Detroit.

For we must not forget that all this time, while we have been following Boone's fortunes west of the Alleghanies, on the east side of those mountains the Revolution was being fought, and the Indians west of the Alleghanies were fighting on the English side. They received a sum of money for handing over to the English at Detroit any Americans they might capture, and that is why the Indians took Boone and his companions to that place.

But, strangely enough, the Indians decided not to give Boone up, although the English, realizing that he was a prize, offered five hundred dollars for him. The Indians admired him because he was a mighty hunter, and they liked him because he was cheerful. So they adopted him into the tribe and took him to their home.

Boone remained with them two months, making the best of the life he had to lead. But when he overheard the Indians planning to make an attack upon Boonesborough, he made up his mind to escape if possible and give his friends warning.

His own words tell the brave story in a simple way: "On the 16th of June, before sunrise, I departed in the most secret manner, and arrived in Boonesborough on the 20th, after a journey of one hundred and sixty miles, during which I had but one meal." He could not get any food, for he dared not use his gun nor build a fire for fear his foes might find out where he was. He reached the fort in safety, and was of great service in beating off the attacking party. This is only one of the many narrow escapes of this fearless backwoodsman.

Another incident illustrates his quick wit. One day, while he was in a shed looking after some tobacco, four Indians with loaded guns appeared at the door. They said: "Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away any more. You no cheat us any more." While they were speaking Boone had gathered up in his arms a number of dry tobacco leaves. Rubbing them to dust, he suddenly flung it into the faces of the Indians, filling their eyes and nostrils. Then, while they were coughing, sneezing, and rubbing their eyes, he escaped.



These are but a few of Boone's dangerous adventures. From them all he came out safe and for years continued to be the able leader of the settlers at Boonesborough.

There he remained until after Kentucky was admitted as a State into the Union (1791). Four years later he moved still farther west, led on by love for the wild, lonely life of the forest, a life which never lost its charm for him, even down to his last days.

He died in 1820, eighty-five years old, his long life covering a period of very great change in the growth of our country. By that time we had become a nation with broadly expanded boundaries.

It has been said that but for Daniel Boone the settlement of Kentucky could not have been made for several years. However this may be, we know that he was one of those fearless and daring men whose courage helped to establish that part of our country long known as "the West."

SOME THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

1. What kind of boyhood had Daniel Boone?

2. Imagine yourself to have been in his place during the weeks when he was alone in the Kentucky forests; give an account of what happened.

3. Tell about his second capture by the Indians and his escape. Why did they admire him?

4. What did he do for Kentucky? What kind of man was he?



CHAPTER VIII

JAMES ROBERTSON

Another pioneer who lived in Boone's day was James Robertson. Like Boone, he came from North Carolina, and he led the way for the settling of Tennessee very much as Boone did for Kentucky. The story of those days shows that he was one of the most forceful and successful of the early English pioneers who led out settlements west of the Alleghanies.



Born in 1742, Robertson was ten years younger than Washington. But this boy's early life was very different from young George Washington's, for little James was born in a backwoods cabin, and his father and mother were too poor to send him to school. So he grew up to manhood without being able to read and write.

But he wanted to study, and was persevering and brave enough to learn the letters of the alphabet and how to spell and to write after he had grown to manhood. We can be sure, therefore, that James was the right sort of boy, and that he would have mastered books if he had been given the chance, just as he mastered the wilderness in later life. But it is as a backwoodsman that we first come to know Robertson and learn why he was trusted and followed so willingly.

Although not tall, he was vigorous and robust, having fair complexion, dark hair, and honest blue eyes that met one's glance squarely. His frank, serious face, his quiet manner, and his coolness and daring in the midst of danger gave him a mastery over others such as it is given but few men to have.

Like Boone, he was noted as a successful hunter; but hunting and exploring were not with him the chief motives for going into the wilderness. He was first of all a pioneer settler who was seeking rich farming lands with near-by springs, where he could make a good home for his family and give his children advantages which he himself had never enjoyed.

Led by this motive, he left his home in North Carolina to seek his fortune among the forest-clad mountains, whose summits he could see far-away to the west. With no companion but his horse and no protection but his rifle, he slowly and patiently made his way through the trackless woods, crossing mountain range after mountain range, until he came to the region where the rivers flowing westward had their beginning.

Much to his surprise, he found here on the Watauga River some settlers from Virginia, who gave him a kindly welcome. He stayed long enough to plant a crop of corn and see it grow up and ripen.

Then, late in the autumn, having decided that this was a good place for his family, he started back home. His faithful horse was his only companion. Some corn in his leather wallet was all the food he carried. He trusted his rifle for the rest.



All went well for a time, but in the depth of the pathless forest he missed his way, and the mountains became so steep and rough that his horse could not get across. Imagine his sorrow when, to save his own life, he had to part from his dumb friend and start on alone.

Other misfortunes befell him. The little store of corn that he had brought with him gave out, and his powder became so wet that it was useless for shooting game. So almost his only food for fourteen days was such nuts and berries as he could gather in his desperate search.

He was near death by starvation when he chanced to meet two hunters. They gave him food and asked him to join them. Then, allowing him to take turns in riding their horses, they helped him to reach home in safety.

You might think that this bitter experience would have made Robertson unwilling to risk another journey back through the wilderness. But, as we have said, he was not easily thwarted, and the thought of what lay beyond the mountains made him hold the cost light.

He gave such glowing accounts of the wonderful country he had seen that by spring sixteen families were ready to go with him to make their home there.

HOW THE BACKWOODSMEN LIVED

Let us in imagination join this group of travellers as it starts out to cross the mountains. Each family has its pack-horse—perhaps a few families have two—carrying household goods. These are not so bulky as ours to-day, for pioneer life is simple, and the people have at most only what they need. There are, of course, some rolls of bedding and clothing, a few cooking utensils, a few packages of salt and seed corn, and a flask or two of medicine. The pack-horse carries also the mother and perhaps a very small child or two. The boys who are old enough to shoulder rifles march in front with their father, ready to shoot game for food or to stand guard against Indians. Some of the older children drive the cows which the settlers are taking along with them.

After reaching the place selected for their settlement, the younger children are set to clearing away the brush and piling it up in heaps ready for burning. The father and the elder sons, who are big enough to wield an axe, lose no time in cutting down trees and making a clearing for the log cabin. All work with a will, and soon the cabin is ready.



The furniture, like the cabin itself, is rude and simple. A bedstead is set up in a corner, a washstand is placed near by, and a few three-legged stools are put here and there; and of course there is a table to eat at. Places are quickly found for the water bucket, used to bring water from the stream, the gourd dipper with which to fill it, and other small utensils; while pegs driven into the wall in convenient places hold clothes, rifles, skins, and the like.



If our pioneers are well-to-do, there may be tucked away in some pack a wool blanket, but usually the chief covering on the bed is the dried skin of some animal: deer, bear, or perhaps buffalo.

There is plenty of food, though of course it is plain and simple, consisting mostly of game. Instead of the pork and beef which are largely eaten in the east, we shall find these settlers making their meal of bear's meat or venison.

For flour corn-meal is used. Each family has a mill for grinding the kernels into meal, while for beating it into hominy they use a crude mortar, made perhaps by burning a hole in the top of a block of wood.

Bread-making is a simpler matter with them than with us, for a dough of corn-meal is mixed on a wooden trencher and then either baked in the ashes and called ash-cake or before the fire on a board and called johnny-cake. Corn-meal is also made into mush, or hasty pudding; and when the settler has cows, mush-and-milk is a common dish, especially for supper.

For butter the settlers use the fat of bear's meat or the gravy of the goose. Instead of coffee, they make a drink of parched rye and beans, and for tea they boil sassafras root.

Every backwoodsman must be able to use the rifle to good effect, for he has to provide his own meat and protect himself and his family from attack. He must be skilful also in hiding, in moving noiselessly through the forests, and in imitating the notes and calls of different beasts and birds. Sharp eyes and ears must tell him where to look for his game, and his aim must be swift and sure.

But most important of all, he must be able to endure hardship and exposure. Sometimes he lives for months in the woods with no food but meat and no shelter but a lean-to of brush or even the trunk of a hollow tree into which he may crawl.

Deer and bear are the most plentiful game; but now and then there is an exciting combat with wolves, panthers, or cougars, while prowling Indians keep him ever on his guard. The pioneer must be strong, alert, and brave.

Each family depends upon itself for most of the necessaries of life. Each member has his own work. The father is the protector and provider; the mother is the housekeeper, the cook, the weaver, and the tailor. Father and sons work out-of-doors with axe, hoe, and sickle; while indoors the hum of the spinning-wheel or the clatter of the loom shows that mother and daughters are busily doing their part.

There are some articles, however, like salt and iron, which the settlers cannot always get in the backwoods. These they must obtain by barter. So each family collects all the furs it can, and once a year, after the harvest is gathered, loads them on pack-horses, which are driven across the mountains to some large trading town on the seacoast. There the skins are traded for the needed iron or salt.

Often many neighbors plan to go together on such a journey. Sometimes they drive before them their steers and hogs to find a market in the east.

A bushel of salt costs in these early days a good cow and calf. Now, that is a great deal to pay; and furthermore, as each small and poorly fed pack-animal can carry but two bushels, salt is a highly prized article. Since it is so expensive and hard to get, it has to be used sparingly by the mountaineers. Therefore the housewife, instead of salting or pickling her meat, preserves or "jerks" it by drying it in the sun or smoking it over the fire.

The Tennessee settler, like Boone's followers in Kentucky, dresses very much like the Indians, for that is the easiest and most fitting way in which to clothe himself for the forest life he leads. And very fine do many stalwart figures appear in the fur cap and moccasins, the loose trousers, or simply leggings of buckskin, and the fringed hunting-shirt reaching nearly to the knees. It is held in by a broad belt having a tomahawk in one side and a knife in the other.



While this free outdoor life develops strong and vigorous bodies, there is not much schooling in these backwoods settlements. Most boys and girls learn very little except reading and writing and very simple ciphering, or arithmetic. If there are any schoolhouses at all, they are log huts, dimly lighted and furnished very scantily and rudely.

The schoolmaster, as a rule, does not know much of books, and is quite untrained as a teacher. His discipline, though severe, is very poor. And he is paid in a way that may seem strange to you. He receives very little in cash, and for the rest of his wages he "boards around" with the families of the children he teaches, making his stay longer or shorter according to the number of children in school.

In many ways, as you see, the life of the pioneer child, while it was active and full of interest, was very different from yours. He learned, like his elders, to imitate bird calls, to set traps, to shoot a rifle, and at twelve the little lad became a foot soldier. He knew from just which loophole he was to shoot if the Indians attacked the fort, and he took pride in becoming a good marksman. He was carefully trained, too, to follow an Indian trail and to conceal his own when on the war-path—for such knowledge would be very useful to him as a hunter and fighter in the forests.

ROBERTSON A BRAVE LEADER

Such was the life of these early woodsmen and their families, and to this life Robertson and those who went out with him soon became accustomed. On their arrival at the Watauga River the newcomers mingled readily with the Virginians already on the ground.

Robertson soon became one of the leading men. His cabin of logs stood on an island in the river, and is said to have been the largest in the settlement. It had a log veranda in front, several rooms, a loft, and best of all, a huge fireplace made of sticks and stones laid in clay, in which a pile of blazing logs roared on cold days, making it a centre of good cheer as well as of heat. To us it would have been a most inviting spot for a summer holiday.

Robertson was very prosperous and successful at Watauga; but in 1799, after ten years of leadership at this settlement, a restless craving for change and adventure stole over him, and he went forth once more into the wilderness to seek a new home still deeper in the forest.

The place he chose was the beautiful country lying along the great bend of the Cumberland River, where Nashville now stands. Many bold settlers were ready and even eager to join Robertson in the new venture, for he was a born leader.

A small party went ahead early in the spring to plant corn, so that the settlers might have food when they arrived in the autumn. Robertson and eight other men, who made up the party, left the Watauga by the Wilderness Road through Cumberland Gap, crossing the Cumberland River. Then, following the trail of wild animals in a southwesterly direction, they came to a suitable place.

Here they put up cabins and planted corn, and then, leaving three men to keep the buffaloes from eating the corn when it came up, the other six returned to Watauga.

In the autumn two parties started out for the new settlement. One of these, made up mostly of women and children, went by water in flatboats, dugouts, and canoes, a route supposed to be easier though much the longer of the two. Whether it was easier, we shall see. The other party, including Robertson himself, went by land, hoping thus to reach the place of settlement in time to make ready for those coming by water.

Robertson and his men arrived about Christmas. Then began a tedious four months of waiting for the others. It was springtime again, April 24, when they at last arrived. Their roundabout route had taken them down the Tennessee River, then up the Ohio, and lastly up the Cumberland. The Indians in ambush on the river banks had attacked them many times during their long and toilsome journey, and the boats were so slow and clumsy that it was impossible for them to escape the flights of arrows.

But when they arrived, past troubles were soon forgotten, and with good heart, now that all were together, the settlers took up the work of making homes.

However, difficulties with the Indians were not over. The first company of settlers that arrived had been left quite unmolested. But now, as spring opened, bands of Indian hunters and warriors began to make life wretched for them all. There is no doubt that the red men did not like to have the settlers kill the game, or scare it off by clearing up the land; but the principal motive for the attacks was the desire for scalps and plunder, just as it was in assailing other Indian tribes.

The Indians became a constant terror. They killed the settlers while working in the clearings, hunting game, or getting salt at the licks. They loved to lure on the unwary by imitating the gobbling of a turkey or the call of some wild beast, and then pounce upon their human prey.

As the corn crop, so carefully planned, had been destroyed by heavy freshets in the autumn, the settlers had to scour the woods for food, living on nuts and game. By the time winter had set in, they had used up so much of their powder and bullets that Robertson resolved to go to Kentucky for more.

ROBERTSON SAVES THE SETTLEMENT

He went safely, though quite alone, and returned on the evening of January 15 (1780) with a good supply of ammunition. You may be sure he had a hearty welcome in the fort, where all were gathered. There was much to talk about, and they sat up till late into the night. All went to bed, tired and sleepy, without any fear. For at that season of the year the red men seldom molested them; and no sentinels were left on guard.

Soon all were in deep slumber except Robertson, whose sense of lurking danger would not let him sleep. He kept feeling that enemies might be near. And he was right. For just outside the fort, prowling in the thick underbrush and hidden by the great trees, there lay in ambush a band of painted warriors, hungry for plunder, eager for scalps.

They creep forward to their attack. They are very cautious, for a bright moon lights up the blockhouses and the palisaded fort.

Suddenly a moving shadow falls upon the moonlit clearing outside the fort. An Indian is stealthily crossing from the dark woods to the wall. There he crouches close, to be out of sight of the inmates of the fort. Another crouching figure, and another. One by one every feathered warrior crosses and keeps close to the palisade.

The next move is to slide cautiously the strong bar and undo the chain which fastens the gate. It is done skilfully enough, but the chain clanks or the hinges creak. The wakeful Robertson springs quickly to his feet. His keen eyes catch sight of the swift, dark figures, moving stealthily into the fort.

"Indians!" he shouts, and off goes his rifle. Instantly every settler has snatched the gun lying at his side. In a second the shots ring out; and the Indians flee through the gate to disappear into the leafy woods. But they have lost one man, whom Robertson has shot, and have killed or wounded three or four of the settlers. Robertson, by keen watchfulness, has saved the fort from capture and his comrades from probable torture or death.

This was only one of many occasions in which Robertson's leadership saved the day. After the Revolution ended (1783) the Indians were not so unfriendly, for the English were no longer paying them for scalps. People, therefore, became less timid about crossing the mountains, and a large number migrated from Virginia and North Carolina to the Tennessee settlement and made their homes at Nashville. As numbers grew larger, dangers became less.

By this time Robertson had become well known through the successful planting of his two settlements, and for the wisdom and bravery with which he managed them. As a reward for his valuable services, Washington later on (1790) made him a general in the army. In 1814 he died.

He is the kind of man we like to think of as a pioneer in the making of our history. Sturdy and self-reliant, strong and fearless, he cheerfully faced the unending struggle with the hard conditions of those early days. Though his life was narrow, it cut deep in its loyalty to friends and country.

SOME THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

1. What can you tell of Robertson's boyhood?

2. Imagine yourself as one of a group of travellers on the way to Kentucky or Tennessee, and tell all you can about the journey.

3. Tell all you can about the food, clothing, shelter, and other conditions of life in these backwoods settlements.

4. What sort of training did the pioneer boy receive in school and at home?

5. Why did Robertson plant a settlement at the place where Nashville now stands?

6. How did he save this settlement from the Indians? What do you admire about him?

7. Are you making frequent use of the map?



CHAPTER IX

JOHN SEVIER

Another daring leader who did much to build up the settlements in Tennessee was John Sevier.



Born in 1745, Sevier was but three years younger than Robertson, and was closely associated with him in later life. Sevier's birthplace was in the western part of Virginia, but while he was still a young boy, the family was driven from their home by the Indians and went to Fredericksburg, Virginia. There he went to the same school which George Washington had attended not many years before.

John's mother had taught him to read, and at school he learned some useful things; still he was not fond of books, and learned most from people and what was going on about him.

He left school when he was sixteen and married before he was seventeen. About six miles from his father's house he put up a building which was dwelling, storehouse, and fort all in one. Here on the frontier he carried on a thriving trade with settlers and Indians, and was so successful that by the time he was twenty-six he was looked upon as a rich man.

He was attractive in appearance, being tall, slender, and erect, with frank blue eyes, fair skin, and brown hair. He was a man of commanding presence, and his athletic figure seemed well suited to the fringed hunting-suit which every pioneer wore.

His merry disposition and great charm of manner easily won many friends; and these he kept by his natural kindness and courtesy. He was never happier than when entertaining generously those who came to his home. Yet these gentle and lovable qualities did not prevent him from being a brave and skilful warrior, who could carry terror to the hearts of his foes.

It was while he was engaged in his trading business that Sevier heard of Robertson's settlement in the west, and became interested in it as a possible home for himself and his family. In 1772 he decided to ride through the forests to the Watauga settlement and find out what kind of place it was.

Alone over the mountains and through the woods he made the journey. At the journey's end, when he met Robertson, they became friends at once, for in spirit and aims they were much alike. Both were brave and fearless, and both were seeking better homes for their families.

Sevier decided to join the settlement on the Watauga, and went back to bring his wife and two children. Returning with them, he entered heartily into the common life of the frontier, with its many hardships and pleasures, and soon became a prominent man in the little colony.

For a time after their arrival the settlement was not much troubled by the Indians. The Cherokees had given their consent to have the land taken up, and all went well for a period.

But, as we have already seen in the case of Boone, the breaking out of the Revolution, and the action of the British in arming the Indians with guns and rewarding them for bringing in captives, disturbed this peace and stirred up the tribes against the backwoodsmen.

The Cherokees then broke their agreement with the settlers and in large numbers made bold and murderous attacks upon the many back-country settlements in southwestern Virginia, the eastern Carolinas, northwestern Georgia, and what is now eastern Tennessee.

As Watauga was the nearest settlement to the Cherokee towns and villages, it was likely to suffer most from the attack. Robertson commanded the fort, with Sevier as his lieutenant. Only forty or fifty men were in the fort when it was attacked, although it was crowded with women and children. But these few men were resolute, well armed, and on their guard.

It was in the gray light of the early morning that the Indians stole up for the attack. But a friendly squaw had given warning of danger, and the settlers were ready. The loopholes opened upon the Indians and they were at once beaten back with loss. This was the beginning of a long, dreary siege. As the stockade was too strong to be taken by an assault, the Indians tried to starve the colonists out. For about three weeks they lurked about so that the people within the fort dared not go outside for food, and had to live mostly on parched corn.

It was a weary time. As you may imagine, all became very tired of that diet and very impatient at being kept shut up within the palisades for so long, and from time to time some one would venture out, heedless of warning and of danger. In running this risk, three or four men were shot by the Indians, and one boy was carried off to an Indian village and burned at the stake. A woman also was captured.

You will be interested in the thrilling experience of another woman. Her name was Kate Sherrill. She was tall and beautiful, graceful and gentle in manner, and, as we shall see, not lacking courage.

One day, taking a pitcher to get water from the river, she had ventured some distance from the fort, when Indians dashed out of the forest and sprang toward her. Seeing her danger, she darted swiftly back, with her bloodthirsty foes close at her heels.

It was a race for life, and she knew it. There was not time to reach the gate; so she ran the shortest way to the fort, caught hold of the top of the pickets, and, by an almost superhuman effort sprung over to the other side. She did not fall to the ground as she expected, but into the arms of John Sevier, for he was standing at a loophole close by, and caught her. He had witnessed her danger and helped her to escape by shooting the Indian closest in the chase. A romance is connected with this, for we are told that John Sevier, who was then a young widower of thirty-one, married Kate Sherrill during the siege.

Although the Indian braves were eager for the scalps of the Watauga settlers, they failed to capture the fort and finally went away, just as they did from the neighboring settlements. For a while, but only for a while, the pioneers were left free from Indian ravages.

SEVIER A HERO AMONG THE TENNESSEE SETTLERS

In spite of the danger, however, daring men kept coming to join the pioneers at the Watauga settlements. Sevier continued to be a leading man in that backwoods region, and when, some years later, Robertson, as you remember, left Watauga to go to the Cumberland valley, Sevier became the most prominent man in the colony.

He was so prosperous that he could surround himself with much comfort. He built a rambling, one-story house on the Nolichucky Creek, a branch of the French Broad River. It was the largest in the settlement and was noted for the lavish entertainments given there, for Sevier was the same generous host as of old. His house consisted of two groups of rooms connected by a covered porch. Sevier with his family lived in one of the groups, and housed his guests in the other. There were large verandas and huge fireplaces, in which, during cold weather, cheerful wood-fires blazed.



Here to all, rich and poor alike, and especially to the men who had followed him in the many battles against the Indians, Sevier gave a hearty welcome. Rarely was his hospitable home without guests, and the table was heaped with such plain and wholesome food as woods and fields afforded.

It was Sevier's delight at weddings or special merrymakings to feast all the backwoods people of the neighborhood at a barbecue, where an ox was roasted whole over the fire, and where, in fair weather, board tables were set under the trees. These were loaded with wild fowl, bear's meat, venison, beef, johnny-cakes, ash-cakes, hominy, and applejack. Should you not like to have been one of the guests?

During one of these merrymaking feasts (1780) news was brought that Major Ferguson, one of the ablest officers in Cornwallis's army, was threatening to make an attack on the back-country settlements. At once Sevier, along with Isaac Shelby and others, set out to raise an army of frontiersmen to march against Ferguson. Soon a thousand men were riding through the forests to find the British force, of which every man except the commander was an American Tory.

They came upon it in a strong position on King's Mountain. Without delay the Americans made a furious attack. They fought with great heroism, charging up the steep mountainside with reckless bravery.

They were divided into three bodies, one on the right of the British, one on the left, and another in front. Sevier commanded the division on the left. At just the right moment he led his men in a resistless rush up the mountainside and made victory certain for the Americans. The British raised the white flag of surrender. All of Ferguson's soldiers who had not been killed or wounded were made prisoners.

By this victory the backwoods hunters greatly weakened the British cause in the south and made easier General Greene's victory over Cornwallis, of which we have already learned. Thus they took their part in winning the nation's liberty.



On returning from King's Mountain to their homes, these pioneer warriors had to meet the Cherokees again in stubborn warfare. In his usual way Sevier struck a swift, crushing blow by marching to the mountain homes of his savage foes, where he burned a thousand of their cabins and destroyed fifty thousand bushels of their corn.

In spite of this defeat, however, the Indians kept on fighting. So Sevier determined to strike another blow. At the head of one hundred and fifty picked horsemen, he rode for one hundred and fifty miles through the mountain wilds and completely surprised the Indians, who did not think it possible for an enemy to reach them. After taking the main town, burning two other towns and three villages, capturing two hundred horses, destroying a large quantity of provisions, and doing other damage, he withdrew and returned home in safety. He had made the Indians afraid, and they were quiet for a time.

These glimpses into the life of John Sevier must help you to understand why he became a hero among all the people of the frontier. They admired him for his brilliant leadership; they were grateful for his protection; and they loved him as a friend. They fondly called him "Nolichucky Jack"; and when, later, the settlements became the State of Tennessee, again and again they elected him governor, and sent him to Congress.

Without doubt few men of his day were his equal as a fighter against the Indians. It is said that in all his warfare with them he won thirty-five victories and never lost a battle. As we have seen, he moved with great swiftness in attacking his foes. Through his able scouts he learned the strength and weakness of his enemies and, before they realized what was going on, with a wild shout he and his bold followers swept down upon them like a hurricane, striking terror to the hearts of even the bravest.

Sevier was active in public interests even to the last years of his long life. When eighty years old, he was at the head of a body of men who were marking the border line between Georgia and the lands of the Indians. The labor proved too great for his bodily strength, and the aged man died (1815), in his tent, with only a few soldiers and Indians around him.

He was buried where he died, and a simple slab, with the two words, "John Sevier," inscribed upon it, indicates the spot where his body rests.

In the homes of eastern Tennessee stories of his brave deeds are still told to eager, listening children, for his memory is held dear in the hearts of old and young alike. Tennessee owes much to this brave, loyal, and high-minded man, who played a large part in shaping her destiny.

SOME THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

1. Why did Sevier go with his family to the Watauga settlement?

2. Imagine yourself in the Watauga Fort when the Cherokees were trying to capture it, and give an account of what happened.

3. Describe Sevier's hospitable home, and tell something about the kind of feast he prepared for a wedding there.

4. What kind of Indian fighter was Sevier?

5. Tell all you can about his personal appearance. What do you admire about him?



CHAPTER X

GEORGE ROGERS CLARK

Among the foremost of those who promoted the westward growth of our country stands George Rogers Clark. He was born near Monticello, Virginia, November 19, 1752. He came of a good family and he received fairly good training in school. But he learned much more from life than from books.



When twenty years old he was already a woodsman and surveyor on the Upper Ohio, and did something also at farming. About two years later, with measuring rod and axe, he moved on to Kentucky, where he continued his work as a surveyor.

A deadly struggle was going on here, you remember, with the Indians, who had been roused by the British against the backwoodsmen, and in this struggle Clark became a leader.

Why it was that in hardly more than a year's time this young man of twenty-four rose to a position of leadership among the settlers, and was chosen one of their lawmakers, we shall understand when we come to see more of his sterling qualities.

Nature had given him a pleasing face which men trusted. His forehead was high and broad under a shock of sandy hair, and honest blue eyes peered out from under heavy, shaggy eyebrows. His strong body could endure almost any hardship, and his splendid health was matched by his adventurous spirit. His fearless courage was equal to any danger, and his resolute purpose would not give way in the face of almost insurmountable difficulties.

His great task would have been impossible except as he possessed these qualities, and we know that one does not come by them suddenly. They grow by bravely conquering the fears of every-day life and not giving in to difficulties. It was in this way that the fearless hunters of Kentucky quickly recognized in him a master spirit.

Clark, as you may imagine, was not content to remain in Kentucky merely as a skilful hunter and bold leader of war parties sent out to punish Indian bands. His keen mind had worked out a brilliant plan, which he was eager to carry through. It was nothing less than to conquer for his country the vast stretch of land lying north of the Ohio and east of the Mississippi, now included in the present Great Lake States.

In this vast region of forest and prairie the only settlements were the scattered French hamlets, begun in the early days of exploration, when the French occupied the land and traded with the Indians for fur. These hamlets had passed into the hands of the English after the Last French War and were made the centres of English power, from which, as we have seen, the English commanders aroused the Indians against the backwoodsmen remote from their home settlements.

These few villages or trading-posts, which were defended by forts, were scattered here and there at convenient places along the river courses, the three strongest forts being at Vincennes, on the Wabash, at Kaskaskia, and at Detroit.

Over all the rest of the wild territory roamed hostile Indian tribes, hunting and fighting against one another as well as against the frontiersmen.

Clark saw that if this region should be conquered the spreading prairies could be opened up for settlement.

As the first step in carrying out his plan, he needed to secure aid from Patrick Henry, the governor of Virginia. Early in October, 1777, he started out on horseback from Harrodsburg, one of the Kentucky settlements, to ride through the forests and over the mountains to Williamsburg, then the capital of the State. So urgent was his haste that he stopped on the way but a single day at his father's house, the home of his childhood, and then pressed on to Williamsburg. It took a whole month to make this journey of six hundred and twenty miles.

Patrick Henry at once fell in with Clark's plan. He arranged that the government should furnish six thousand dollars. But as it was needful that the utmost secrecy should be preserved, nothing was said about the matter to the Virginia Assembly. Clark was to raise his own company among the frontiersmen. The whole burden of making the necessary preparations rested upon him.

CLARK STARTS ON HIS LONG JOURNEY

With good heart he shouldered it, and in May, 1778, was ready with one hundred and fifty-three men to start from the Redstone Settlements, on the Monongahela River. He stopped at both Pittsburg and Wheeling for needed supplies. Then his flatboats, manned by tall backwoodsmen in their picturesque dress, rowed or floated cautiously down the Ohio River.

They did not know on how great a journey they had entered, for even to his followers Clark could not tell his plan.

Toward the last of the month, on reaching the falls of the Ohio, near the present site of Louisville, they landed on an island, where Clark built a fort and drilled his men. Some of the families that had come with him, and were on their way to Kentucky, remained there until autumn, planting some corn and naming the island Corn Island.

When about to leave, Clark said to the men: "We are going to the Mississippi." Some were faint-hearted and wished to turn back. "You may go," said Clark, for he wanted no discontented men among his number. From those remaining he carefully picked out the ones who seemed robust enough to endure the extreme hardships which he knew awaited them.



As the success of the enterprise depended upon surprising the enemy, it was extremely important that he press forward as secretly and as speedily as possible. Accordingly, the men rowed hard, night and day, until they came to an island off the mouth of the Tennessee River. Here it was their good fortune to meet with a small party of hunters who had been at the French settlements not long before. These men cheerfully joined Clark's party, agreeing to act as guides to Kaskaskia.

"If you go by the water-route of the Mississippi," said these hunters, "the French commander at Kaskaskia will get news of your coming, through boatmen and hunters along the river, and will be ready to defend the fort against you. The fort is strong and the garrison well trained, and if the commander knows of your approach he will put up a good fight."



So it was decided to go by land. At one time the guide lost his way, and Clark was angry, for he feared treachery. But after two hours they found the right course again.

On the evening of July 4 the Kaskaskia was reached. The fort was only three miles away, but it was across the stream. Remaining in the woods until dusk, they rested; then, as night fell, they pushed on to a little farmhouse only a mile from the fort. Here Clark obtained boats and silently, in the darkness, conveyed his men across the stream.

After two hours all was ready for the attack. Clark divided the men into two bodies: one to surround the town and prevent the escape of the fugitives, and the other, led by himself, to advance to the walls of the fort.



A postern gate on the side facing the river had been pointed out by a captive, and Clark stationed his men so as to guard it. Then he went inside along to the entrance of the large hall where public gatherings were held.

It was brilliantly lighted, and floating through the windows came the music of violins. The officers of the fort were giving a dance, and young creole men and maidens were spending a merry evening. Even the sentinels had left their posts in order to enjoy the festal occasion.

Alone, Clark passed through the doorway and stood with folded arms, in grim silence, coolly watching the mirthful dancers. Lying upon the floor just inside the door was an Indian brave. As he raised his eyes to the face of the strange backwoodsman standing out clearly in the light of the torches, he sprang to his feet with a piercing war-whoop. The music broke off suddenly; a hush fell. Then the women screamed, and there was a wild rush for the door.

Without stirring from the place where he stood, Clark quietly said: "Go on with your dance; but remember that you now dance under Virginia, and not under Great Britain." Scarcely had he uttered these words when his men, seeing the confusion, rushed into the forts and seized the officers, among whom was the French commander.

Then Clark sent runners throughout the town to order the people to remain within their houses. The simple-hearted Frenchmen were in a panic of fear.

The next morning some of their chief men, appearing before Clark, begged for their lives. "We will gladly become slaves," they cried, "if by so doing we may save our families." "We do not wish to enslave you," Clark answered, "and if you will solemnly promise to become loyal American citizens you shall be welcome to all the privileges of Americans."

On hearing these words the French people were so carried away with joy that they danced and sang and scattered flowers along the street. By his kind way of dealing with them, Clark made the people of the town his friends instead of his enemies.

A little later the people of Vincennes also solemnly promised to be loyal citizens, and, taking down the English flag, they raised the American stars and stripes over their fort.

LIFE IN THE OLD FRENCH VILLAGES

You will enjoy a glimpse of the life in these old French villages, for it is quite different from that of the settlements we have visited. There are many little hamlets, like Kaskaskia and Vincennes, on the western frontier. They have been in existence for years, but have not increased much in strength or size.

The French people living there have never mingled with the American backwoodsmen. They have kept by themselves, remaining for the most part half-homesick emigrants. Many of them are engaged in the fur trade; some are adventure-loving wood rovers and hunters, but the most of them are farmers on a small scale.

Their little villages, composed of hovels or small log cottages, are guarded by rough earthworks. A few roomy buildings serve as storehouses and strongholds in times of danger. There are also little wine-shops, as in the old country, which the French love, and in which they are always entertained by the music of violins.

There is much gay color on the streets of these hamlets, for the Frenchmen are dressed in bright-colored suits, made of Indian blankets. And lounging about in cheap paint or soiled finery are lazy Indians, begging at times and at times idly watching the boats rowing up and down the river.

We see, too, now and then, the familiar red-and-buff uniforms of the British army officers, which are regarded with awe whenever they appear. For you must remember that after 1763 all the French hamlets were in British hands, and the English officers were the great men of this country north of the Ohio.

CLARK'S HARD TASK

Although the life was gayer and easier in these French villages than in the frontier settlements, and although the taking of Kaskaskia and Vincennes had been easy, Clark still had a hard task before him. His small force was made up of men who were in the habit of doing as they pleased, and over them he had no control except through their personal liking for him.

Furthermore, he was so many hundred miles from Virginia that he could not hope to get any advice or help from the government for months, or perhaps for an entire year. He must rely entirely upon himself. And we shall see that he was equal to the situation.

Outside the villages, roaming over the great region he was hoping to conquer, were thousands of Indians. They were hostile, bloodthirsty, and ready to slaughter without pity. When they heard what Clark and his backwoodsmen had done, they crowded to Kaskaskia to see for themselves. Lurking back of their gloomy faces were wicked thoughts. Clark was in great danger from these Indians.

But he proved himself their master also. Though carefully on his guard in any dealings he might have with them, he always appeared to them quite unafraid and confident that he could take care of himself. His boldness and firmness, even when surrounded by red warriors greatly outnumbering his own small force, had a profound effect upon them.



Once he told them that he could appeal to the Thirteen Council-Fires—meaning, of course, the thirteen States—and that they could send him men enough to darken the land. The Indians began to fear him and to look upon him as a mighty warrior, and when he held up to them the red wampum belt of war and the white of peace for them to choose which they would have, they chose peace and left the settlement.

But there was still another very serious difficulty which Clark had to face. It caused even greater anxiety than the danger from the Indians, for it was within his own company. You remember that when his men started out they did not know that they were to go so far away from home. Now, when their time of service was up, they threatened to leave him and return to their homes. By means of presents and promises Clark persuaded about a hundred to stay eight months longer. The others left for home.

A weaker man might have been quite helpless if left with so small a force. Not so Clark. He had wonderful power over people, and soon the creoles of the French villages had become so loyal that their young men took the places of the woodsmen who went away. Clark thoroughly drilled them all until they were finely trained for any service he might ask.

It was well he did so. For Colonel Hamilton, the British commander at Detroit, who had charge of the British forces throughout the vast region which Clark was trying to conquer, was a man of great energy. Soon after getting news of what Clark had done at Kaskaskia and Vincennes, he began preparing for an expedition against the latter place.

Early in October (1779) he set out from Detroit with one hundred and seventy-seven soldiers and sixty Indians. By the time he had reached Vincennes so many other Indians had joined him that his entire force numbered about five hundred. The fort at Vincennes, as you remember, contained only a handful of men, and it easily fell into Hamilton's hands (December 17, 1779).

If Hamilton had at once marched on to Kaskaskia, he might have captured Clark or driven him out of the northwest. But that same tendency to "put off," which had already cost the British many a victory, here again saved the day for the Americans. Because the weather was so cold, the route so long, and the other difficulties in his way so great, Hamilton resolved to wait until spring before going farther.

And not expecting to need his soldiers before spring, he sent back to Detroit the greater part of his force. He kept with him about eighty of the white soldiers and about the same number of Indian allies.

About six weeks later Clark learned from an Indian trader how small the garrison was at Vincennes. You may be sure that he did not wait for seasons to change. Quick to realize that this was his chance, he gathered a force of one hundred and seventy men—nearly half of them creoles—and in seven days he was on his way to Vincennes.

CLARK CAPTURES VINCENNES

The route, two hundred and forty miles in length, led eastward across what is now Illinois. As often happens at this season, the weather had grown so mild that the ice and snow had thawed, causing the rivers to overflow, and the meadows and lowlands which lay along a large part of the route were under water from three to five foot deep.

When we remember that there were no houses for shelter, no roads, and no bridges across the swollen streams, we can imagine something of the hardships of this midwinter journey. Only very strong men could endure such exposure.

Knowing that cheerfulness would help greatly in keeping his men well and willing, Clark encouraged feasting and merrymaking as all were gathered at night around the blazing logs. There the game killed during the day was cooked and eaten, and while some sang and danced, according to creole custom, others sat before the huge fires and told exciting stories about hunting and Indian warfare. Then, warmed and fed, all lay down by the fire for the night's rest.

As long as this lasted the journey was by no means hard; but by the end of a week conditions had changed, for they had reached the drowned lands of the Wabash.

Coming first to the two branches of the Little Wabash, they found the floods so high that the land between the two streams was entirely under water, and they were facing a mighty river five miles wide and at no point less than three feet deep, while, of course, in the river beds it was much deeper.

But Clark was resourceful. He at once had his men build a pirogue, or dugout canoe. In this he rowed across the first branch of the river, and on the edge of the water-covered plain put up a scaffold. Then the men and the baggage were ferried across in the pirogue, and the baggage was placed on the scaffold. Last of all, the pack-horses swam the channel, and standing by the scaffold in water above their knees, received again their load of baggage.



All then proceeded to the second channel, which was crossed in the same way. It took three days to build the pirogue and cross the two branches of the river.

During this time hunger was added to the other sufferings of the men, for the flood had driven all the wild animals away, so that there was no longer any game to shoot. Advance was slow and extremely tiresome, for the men had to march from morning till night up to their waists in mud and water. They were nearing the Great Wabash River.

On February 20 the men were quite exhausted. There had been nothing to eat for nearly two days. Many of the creoles were so downcast that they began to talk of going home. Clark, putting on a brave face, laughed and said: "Go out and kill a deer."

But meanwhile his men, acting under orders, had built three canoes, and on the morning of the 22d the entire force was ferried across the Wabash.

Once on the side of the river where Vincennes stood, they began to feel more cheerful, for by night they expected to be at the fort.

It was well that they did not know what awaited them, for they had yet a bitter experience to pass through. Almost all the way was under water, and as they went slowly on they often stepped into hollows where the water came up to their chins. But, guided by their bold leader, they pressed forward until they reached a hillock, where they spent the night.

During the long hours of this trying day Clark had kept up the spirits of his men in every way he could. In telling about it later, he said: "I received much help from a little antic drummer, a boy with such a fun-loving spirit that he made the men laugh, in spite of their weariness, at his pranks and jokes."

On starting out again the next morning some were so weak and famished that they had to be taken in the canoes. Those who were strong enough to wade came to water too deep to walk through, and, painfully struggling, began to huddle together as if all hope had fled.

Then Clark had to do something to rouse them. Suddenly he blackened his face with gunpowder and, sounding the war-whoop like an Indian brave, fearlessly sprang forward. His men plunged in after him without a word.

By dusk they were still six miles from Vincennes. Their clothing was drenched, their muscles ached with weariness, and they were well-nigh exhausted from lack of food. To make matters worse, the weather that day was bitterly cold. Yet the worst experience of the whole trying march was to come.

For before them stretched a shallow lake, four miles in extent. With something like a score of the strongest men just behind him, Clark plunged into the ice-cold water, breast-deep. When they had gone about half-way across some of them were so cold and weak that they could not take another step. So the canoes were kept busy rescuing them and getting them to land.

Those who, though weak, were still able to keep their feet, clung to the strong and plodded forward. When they had finally reached the woods bordering the farther side of the lake, they had not strength enough to pull themselves out, but clung desperately to the bushes and logs on the shore until the canoes could pick them up.

On reaching land some were so exhausted that they fell upon the ground with their faces half buried in the water. But the stronger ones built fires and fed them broth made from some venison they had taken from squaws in an Indian canoe which happened along. With food and warmth courage returned.

In the afternoon they set out again. After crossing a narrow lake in the canoes and marching a short distance, they reached a tree-covered spot from which they could see the town and the fort. There they made a stop and, hidden by the trees, made ready for the attack.

There was some fighting that night, and it was continued the next day. Then Clark demanded the surrender of the fort. Hamilton at first refused, but, as he had only a small number of men, he had to give up both fort and garrison. He himself was sent a prisoner to Virginia.

Clark's capture of Vincennes was the finishing stroke of his conquest. He had succeeded in one of the boldest enterprises ever undertaken in America. All the vast region he had set out to conquer remained under American control until the end of the Revolution, when, by treaty, it formally became a part of our country.

In carrying out his plans Clark had not only risked his health and life, but he had used up all his property. In spite of the great service he had done his country, his last years were spent in poverty. For a while he lived alone in a rude dwelling on Corn Island, but later his sister took him to her home near Louisville. Here, in 1818, came to an end the life of this heroic soldier and loyal American.

SOME THINGS TO THINK ABOUT

1. What was Clark's brilliant plan?

2. Imagine yourself with him on the evening when he captured the fort at Kaskaskia, and tell as fully as you can what happened. Tell something of his hard task in the days that followed.

3. Can you explain how it was that he had such a powerful influence over men?

4. In imagination go with Clark on his wonderful march from Kaskaskia to Vincennes and give an account of your trials and sufferings.

5. How do you account for Clark's remarkable success? What do you admire about him?

6. Are you making frequent use of the map?



CHAPTER XI

THE NEW REPUBLIC

At the end of the Revolution Washington, as we have already noted, returned to his beautiful home, Mount Vernon, overlooking the Potomac. Here he again took up the many-sided duties which his large plantation made necessary for him. His busy day began when he arose at four o'clock in the morning and ended when he went to bed at nine o'clock in the evening. But his life was not so quiet as we might think. For he had so many visitors that at the end of two years he wrote in his diary one day: "Dined with only Mrs. Washington, which I believe is the first instance of it since my retirement from public life."



When the States, after securing their independence, united under the Constitution to form the nation called the United States of America, they needed a President. It was but natural that again all eyes should turn to George Washington, and he was elected without opposition.

In his modesty he felt himself unfit to lead the American people in times of peace. In fact, this new service was for him perhaps the hardest that he had ever tried to render his country. Yet, as he believed with all his heart in the new government, he decided to accept the office. He was willing to give up his own comfort for the sake of trying to bring new life and prosperity to his countrymen.



On April 16, 1789, two days after being informed of his election, he said good-by to Mount Vernon and started out as a plain citizen in a private carriage on a seven days' journey to New York, which was then the capital city of the United States.

He wished to travel as quietly as possible, but the people were so eager to show their love for him and their trust in him that they thronged to meet and welcome him at every stage of the journey. When he passed through Philadelphia, under an escort of city troops, he rode a prancing white steed, and a civic crown of laurel rested upon his head.



But the most touching tribute of all he received at Trenton. On the bridge spanning the little creek which he had crossed more than once when thirteen years before he was battling for his country's freedom was a floral arch. Under this a party of matrons and young girls carrying baskets of flowers took their stand. As Washington passed beneath the arch the girls sang a song of welcome and strewed flowers in the road before him. On the arch was the motto: "The Hero Who Defended the Mothers Will Protect the Daughters."

When he arrived on the New Jersey side of the North River he was met by a committee of both houses of Congress. They escorted him to a handsomely equipped barge, manned by thirteen pilots, all dressed in white uniforms. Landing on the New York side, he rode through the streets amid throngs of shouting people, with salutes thundering from war-ships and from cannon on the Battery, and bells joyfully ringing from church-steeples, to give him a welcome.

The inauguration took place on April 30. A little after noon Washington left his house, and under a large military escort made his way to Federal Hall, which was the Senate Chamber.

From there he was escorted out to the balcony overlooking a large space in the streets below, which were thronged with people. He took his seat by the side of a crimson-covered table, on which lay a Bible.

As Washington stood up face to face with the chancellor of New York State, who was to give the oath, a deep hush fell on the multitude below. "Do you solemnly swear," asked Chancellor Livingston, "that you will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of your ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States?"



"I do solemnly swear," said Washington, "that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States."

Then with deep earnestness he bent and kissed the Bible held before him, with the whispered prayer: "So help me God!"

"Long live George Washington, President of the United States!" exclaimed Livingston, and the excited throng took up the cry, shouting with wild enthusiasm. Thus was inaugurated our first President.

Returning to the Senate Chamber, Washington there delivered a short address. He was very much agitated, for he had a deep sense of the responsibility which had been put upon him. After he had given his address he attended service in St. Paul's Church, and then went to his new home in New York City.

His life as President was one of dignity and elegance. It was his custom to pay no calls and accept no invitations, but between three and four o'clock on every Tuesday afternoon he held a public reception. On such occasions he appeared in court dress, with powdered hair, yellow gloves in his hands, a long sword in a scabbard of white polished leather at his side, and a cocked hat under his arm. Standing before the fireplace, with his right hand behind him, he bowed formally as each guest was presented to him.



The visitors formed a circle about the room. At a quarter past three the door was closed, and Washington went around the circle, speaking to each person. Then he returned to his first position by the fireplace, where each visitor approached him, bowed, and retired.

One of his first public duties was the choosing of strong men to form his cabinet and help him in his new tasks as President. Thomas Jefferson was made Secretary of State; Alexander Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury; Henry Knox, Secretary of War; and Edmund Randolph, Attorney-General. John Jay was appointed Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

The new government had to settle more than one important question. One of these related to the method of paying the State debts which had been the outcome of the Revolutionary War. The northern States were in favor of having the National Government take care of these debts. Washington himself wished in this way to unite the interests of all the States as well as have them feel that they had a share in the new government. The southern States, however, were bitterly opposed to this plan, but they, in their turn, were eager to have the national capital located on the Potomac River.

Alexander Hamilton, by a clever arrangement, persuaded the opposing interests to adopt a compromise, or an agreement by which each side got a part of what it wished. The northern States were to vote for a southern capital if the southern States would vote that the National Government should look after the State debts.

This plan was carried out; and so it was decided that the capital of the United States should be located in the District of Columbia, on the Potomac River, and should be called Washington, after George Washington.

In 1789, the seat of government was in New York; from 1790 to 1800, it was in Philadelphia; and in 1800 it was transferred to Washington, where it has ever since remained.

THE COTTON-GIN AND SLAVERY

One of the most noteworthy events which occurred during Washington's administration was the invention of the cotton-gin by Eli Whitney. Whitney was born in Massachusetts. While yet a boy he was employed in making nails by hand, for there was no machine for making them in those days. Later, when he entered Yale College, his skilful use of tools helped him to pay his college expenses.



After being graduated from Yale he went south, where he became a tutor in the family of General Greene's widow, then living on the Savannah River, in the home which, you remember, Georgia gave her husband. While he was in Mrs. Greene's home he invented for her an embroidery-frame which she greatly valued.

One day, while she was entertaining some planters, they began to talk about the raising of cotton. One of her guests said that it did not pay well because so much time was needed to separate the seeds from the fibre. He added that if a way could be found to do this more quickly the profits would be far greater.

"Gentlemen," said Mrs. Greene, "tell this to my young friend, Mr. Whitney. Verily, I believe he can make anything." As a result of this conversation, in two or three months Eli Whitney had invented the cotton-gin (1793), although in so doing he had to make all his own tools.

The cotton-gin brought about great changes. Before its invention it took a slave a whole day to separate the seed from five or six pounds of cotton fibre. But by the use of the cotton-gin he could separate the seed from a thousand pounds in a single day.



This, of course, meant that cotton could be sold for very much less than before, and hence there arose a much greater demand for it. It meant, also, that the labor of slaves was of more value than before, and hence there was a greater demand for slaves.

As slavery now became such an important feature of southern life, let us pause for a glimpse of a southern plantation where slaves are at work. If we are to see such life in its pleasantest aspects, we may well go back to Virginia in the old days before the Civil War. There the slaves led a freer and easier life than they did farther south among the rice-fields of South Carolina or the cotton-fields of Georgia.

If we could visit one of these old Virginia plantations as it used to be, where wheat and tobacco were grown, we should see first a family mansion, often situated on a hilltop amid a grove of oaks. The mansion is a two-story house, perhaps made of wood, and painted white. With its vine-clad porch in front, and its wide hallway inside, it has a very comfortable look.

Not far away is a group of small log cabins. This cluster of simple dwellings, known as "the quarters," is the home of the slaves, who do the work in the house and fields.

On the large plantations of the far south, there were sometimes several slave settlements on one plantation, each being a little village, with the cabins set in rows on each side of a wide street. Each cabin housed two families; belonging to each was a small garden.

The log cabins contained large fireplaces, and it was not unusual for the master's children to gather about them when the weather was cold enough for fires, to hear the negroes tell quaint tales and sing weird songs. The old colored "mammies" were very fond of "Massa's chillun" and liked to pet them and tell them stories.

Sometimes the cooking for the master's family was done in the kitchen of the "big house," but more often in a cabin outside, from which a negro waitress carried the food to the dining-room. The slaves had regular allowances of food, most of which they preferred to cook in their own cabins. Their common food was corn bread and ham or bacon.

Some of the slaves were employed as servants in the master's house, but the greater part of them worked in the fields. They went out to work very early in the morning. It often happened that their breakfast and dinner were carried to them in the fields, and during the short rest which they had while eating their meals they would often sing together.



The slaves had their holidays, one of them being at the time of hog-killing, which was an annual festival. In some parts of the south, in November or December, corn-husking bees were held, just as the white people held them on the frontier. When the corn was harvested, it was piled up in mounds fifty or sixty feet high. Then the slaves from neighboring plantations were invited to come and help husk the corn. One negro would leap up on the mound and lead the chorus, all joining lustily in the singing.