Indian Story

Printer-friendly version

Ironton Register, Thursday, November 10, 1853

Submitted by Sharon M. Kouns

Shortly After the battle of King's Mountain, there came to the wilds of Kentucky two of its most renowned heroes and chiefs. Stalwart of size, majestic in mien, and daring almost to recklessness, yet of different temperaments, for one was sanguine, and the other bilious - these two warriors who had often fought. "Foemen worthy of their steel," were as gentle to each other as doves, and were knit together by the strongest ties of friendship.
They "squatted" about fourteen miles from each other, in the thick woods of that part of the State now known as Madison and Lincoln counties. The war-whoop of the Indian and the howl of the wolf were the only sounds which broke the solitude of the west, and all the energies of hardy pioneers were directed to their self protection, from the merciless enemies of the white man.
They occasionally visited each other when an emergency called for their united action, and those of the hunters each could muster to do battle with the savages. On one occasion the spies of both chiefs reported a gathering of the Indians up the Kentucky river, at a place rugged and sublime, now Estill County. Each left his cabin at the same time, for the purpose of consulting with the other; of course armed to the teeth, and carrying the unerring rifle, ready for any surprise. Treading their way through the forest, Shelby upon his splendid black bald-face, as he was familiarly called, and Kennedy coming cautiously from an opposite direction, they both, at the same time, with their quick animals, pricked up their ears at the sound of horses' feet. As they advanced, the sounds became more perceptible, and ere long were in rifle shot distance. Each supposing the other a red skin, and of course a deadly foe, dismounted and treed himself for a better inspection of the movements of the other. The triggers might then be heard breaking the stillness of the forest. A time of intense suspense ensued as they waited the advance. Neither could be perceived, except but dimly, through the trees and bushes, and their dresses so much resembled that of ____________________ were leveled so that the white of one eye might prove a target for the other. But no such chance occurred, and Kennedy being of too impatient a temperament to wait longer, took the ground trail to get a shot. Unperceived even by his wary adversary until his rifle was raised almost, he was about sending the leaden messenger of death, when he spied old Baldface near his antagonist. With a joyful cry he exclaimed:
"Hallo! Ike, is that you!"
"Why, yes, Tom! Is that you!"
"Why certainly, Ike, and you came d_____d near being shot for a redskin."
"Not near than you, for a minute more and old Betty would have sent you a harder meal to digest than you have had in your stomach for a coon's age."
Mutually congratulating each other thus upon their escape, they proceeded to the cabin of Kennedy. After discussing their plans, they discussed a very substantial dinner of dried venison and maize bread, washed down with the most healthful and exhilarating of all beverages, - Adam's ale. Their meal being finished they crossed over to Paint Lick, where Kennedy had mustered his men, which, together with what Shelby called out, made nineteen, "Hunters of Kentucky," all told.
On the banks of the romantic Silver Creek, which found its way through the umbrageous darkness of the forest, met these stern men who had set their life upon the cast, and had resolved to stand the hazard of the die.
They trailed the foe to a place called Vinegrove - now in Madison county, - and tracked them across the Kentucky river, until they reached a mountainous country some hundred and twenty miles above Frankfort. They ascertained that the Indians numbered seventy or eighty stout warriors. On discovering the trail, the pursuers held a council of war, in which all joined, and in which all agreed save one - who afterwards distinguished himself in the melee - to charge the redskins on the mountain: a shelving elevation of great height, now in Estill county. The little band was divided into three companies, each taking a different route from the other, and to unite after a preconcerted signal, in a beautiful valley east of the mountains, leaving the horses under a guard of two men.
To describe the scene which ensued, we must first premise that the mountain where the attack of the hunters was formed in terraces or ledges, where six might walk abreast, shelving one above the other, at a distance of eight or ten feet. Kennedy perceiving one of his hated foes on one of these ledges, could not restrain his impatience, but left his corps in hot pursuit. Striding quickly along one ledge he found that his wily enemy was on that over his head. Rapidly retracing his steps he took the upper flight, and hurried along. Suddenly as he passed a bend or abutment on the ledge, carrying his rifle preparatory for any emergency, the swift descent of a tomahawk over his weapon made him aware of the presence of a gigantic savage, immediately behind him.
The concussion of the hatchet with the rifle barrel, made the former fly from the hand of the Indian, far down the hill below. In the meantime, Kennedy's weapon was useless from the close proximity of the foe, and from the deadly clutch with which he grasped the courageous hunter. The rifle fell down between them, and the strong power of muscle has seldom been so severely tested. The terrific struggle of Boone with his red fore, and the startling portraiture fills a niche in the Capitol of the Union, in illustrating the early history of the country. Fiendish seems to be the expression stamped upon the Indian's face, while nerve is vivid on the countenance of Boone. Terrible was the struggle but not more so than that between Kentucky and his enemy.
Fierce they rolled together in deathless silence upon the brink of the ledge, now the hunter on the savage, and quick as lightening the savage on the hunter. Vainly did Kennedy strive to handle his knife, and decide the contest; over and over they rolled, until making a desperate lunge the yoked enemies fell headlong over the ledge, upon that below, still clinging with the tenacity of the wolf's fangs, while the drops of blood and sweat poured out like rain. No gladiators ever showed a more terrific combat, and it was awful to witness amid the peaceful solitude of nature, such a demoniac exhibition of human hate. Again they struggled, glaring on each other as two hyenas, and again they rolled over the ledge, and fell beneath. Fortunately in this fall the Indian was under the hunter, and the stunning effects, with previous exhaustion, gave Kennedy an opportunity to reach his knife, with which he dispatched him just as Shelby and his comrades hove in sight. And thus ended "the death struggle."