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Produced by Al Haines.




[Illustration: Cover art]




[Illustration: "Jack saw that it was a boy not much older than himself"
(_see page_ 43).]




                                  *THE
                              BOY HUNTERS
                              OF KENTUCKY*


                                   BY

                           *EDWARD S. ELLIS*

  _Author of "Red Feather," "Blazing Arrow," "The Forest Messengers,"
                   "Wolf Ear, the Indian," etc, etc._



                           SIXTIETH THOUSAND



                        CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD
                 London, Toronto, Melbourne and Sydney
                                  1889




                        Uniform With This Volume

                          _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

                          Lost in the Rockies
                          Captured by Indians
                     The Daughter of the Chieftain
                              Red Feather
                          Wolf Ear, the Indian
                          Astray in the Forest
                              Bear Cavern
                            River and Forest
                             The Lost River
                      The Boy Hunters of Kentucky



                       _Printed in Great Britain_




                              *CONTENTS.*


                               CHAPTER I.

A YOUNG PIONEER

                              CHAPTER II.

TRAINING A KENTUCKY RIFLEMAN

                              CHAPTER III.

THE MEETING ON THE BRIDGE

                              CHAPTER IV.

THE HOME OF JACK

                               CHAPTER V.

THE YOUNG WYANDOT

                              CHAPTER VI.

THE WRESTLING BOUT

                              CHAPTER VII.

JACK RESUMES HIS JOURNEY

                             CHAPTER VIII.

TRAVELLING SOUTHWARD

                              CHAPTER IX.

ROYAL GAME

                               CHAPTER X.

HUNTING THE HUNTERS

                              CHAPTER XI.

GEORGE MAKES A SHOT

                              CHAPTER XII.

THE STRANGE CAMP FIRE

                             CHAPTER XIII.

CAPTIVE AND CAPTORS

                              CHAPTER XIV.

THE SIGNAL AND ITS REPLY

                              CHAPTER XV.

ANOTHER ARRIVAL

                              CHAPTER XVI.

HOW TO CONQUER AN ENEMY

                             CHAPTER XVII.

A FRIEND AT COURT

                             CHAPTER XVIII.

CONCLUSION




                                  *THE
                       BOY HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY.*



                              *CHAPTER I.*

                           *A YOUNG PIONEER.*


There was no happier boy in all Kentucky than Jack Gedney on the morning
that completed the first twelve years of his life, for on that day his
father presented him with a fine rifle.

Now, you must know that some of the best riflemen in the world have been
born and reared in Kentucky, where the early settlers had to fight not
only the wild beasts, but the fierce red men.  The battles between the
Indians and pioneers were so many that Kentucky came to be known as the
Dark and Bloody Ground.

Some of you may have heard that the most famous pioneer in American
history was Daniel Boone, who entered all alone the vast wilderness
south of the Ohio, and spent many months there before the Revolution
broke out.  The emigrants began flocking thither as soon as it became
known that the soil of Kentucky was rich, and that the woods abounded
with game.

Among those who went thither, towards the close of the last century,
were Thomas Gedney and his wife Abigail.  With a dozen other families,
they floated down the Ohio in a flat boat, until a short distance below
the mouth of the Licking, when they landed, and, taking the boat apart,
used the material in building their cabins.

It happened at that period that there was less trouble than usual with
the red men.  Some of the settlers believed that the Indians, finding
themselves unable to stay the tide of immigration that was pouring over
the west, would move deeper into the solitudes which stretched beyond
the Mississippi.  Instead of putting up their cabins close together, a
part of the pioneers pushed farther into the woods, and began their
houses where they found better sites.  Most of them were near natural
"clearings," where the fertile soil was easily made ready for the corn
and vegetables, without the hard work of cutting down the trees and
clearing out the stumps.

Thomas Gedney and his wife were among those who went farther than the
spot where they landed from the flat boat.  Indeed, they pushed deeper
into the woods than any one else who helped to found the little
settlement that was planted a hundred years ago on the southern bank of
the Ohio.  Their nearest neighbours were the members of the Burton
family, who lived a mile to the eastward, while a mile farther in that
direction were the little group of cabins that marked the beginning of
one of the most prosperous towns of to-day in Kentucky.

Mr. Gedney was fortunate enough to find a clearing of an acre in extent,
with a small stream running near. Since he had helped his neighbours to
put up their cabins, they in return gave him such aid that in a few days
he had a strong, comfortable structure of logs, into which he moved with
his wife and only child, Jack, then but six years old.

The sturdy men who built their homes in the depths of the wilderness a
century ago were never in such haste that they forgot to make them
strong and secure. The red men might be peaceful, and might make
promises to molest the white people no more, but the pioneers knew
better than to trust to such promises. There are no more treacherous
people in the whole world than the American Indians, and no man is wise
who places much faith in their pledges.

But I have not started to tell you the history of the pioneers who came
down the Ohio in the flat boat, but to give an account of some strange
adventures that befell Jack Gedney, shortly after his rifle was given to
him by his father.  Jack had been trained in sighting and firing a gun
as soon as he could learn to close his left eye while he kept the other
open.  His father's rifle was too heavy for him to aim off-hand, but
kneeling behind a fallen tree, or a stump, or rock, his keen vision was
able to direct the little bullet with such precision, that Daniel Boone
himself, who one day watched the little fellow, gave him much praise.

In those days there was nothing in which a Kentuckian took more pride
than in his skill with his rifle. Thomas Gedney had never met his
superior, and he meant that if his boy Jack lived the same should be
said of him.  And so, while the mother gave the boy instruction in
reading and writing, the father took many long tramps with him through
the woods, and taught him how to become a great hunter.  He showed him
the difference between the tracks of the various game, and told him of
the peculiar habits of the wild animals and the best method of
outwitting them. More than all, he did his best to teach Jack how to
guard against his most dangerous of all foes--man himself.

Mr. Gedney was a man who took great precautions when constructing his
cabin.  He built it just as strongly as it was possible to make it.  The
windows were so narrow that no grown person could force his body
through, the roof was so steep that the most agile red man could not
climb it, and the heavy door, when closed and barred inside, was really
as stout as the solid walls of logs themselves.

I have not time to tell you about several incidents that proved his
wisdom in taking so much pains to guard himself and family against their
dusky foes the Indians, but the time came when the woodcraft thus taught
to the boy proved of the greatest value to him.

Among the important rules laid down by the father for the son's guidance
was that the very first thing to be done after firing his rifle was to
re-load it; that in tramping through the woods he should bear in mind
that he was always in danger, and that he must look not only in front
but beside and behind him; that he must take all pains to hide his trail
whenever there was the least cause to fear the red men; that he must use
the utmost precaution when lying down to sleep for the night; that in
communicating with his friends he must do so by means of signals that a
foe could not understand; that he must always be on the watch for signs
of an enemy's presence; and that, when brought face to face with a foe,
he must remember that a second's forgetfulness or impatience was almost
certain to give the other the decisive advantage over him.

These were but a few of the rules that were impressed upon Jack by his
father, who, as I have already told you, spent many hours with him in
the woods, the two afterwards coming back to the cabin laden with game
that kept the family well provided with food for many days.

Mr. Gedney had sent eastward for the gun which he gave to his son on his
birthday.  It was of fine make and somewhat lighter than his own, for
several years must pass before Jack would be strong enough to handle a
man's weapon.  The piece would not have been looked upon in these days
as of much account, for it was a muzzle-loader with a flint-lock. When
Jack wished to load it, he emptied the charge from his powder-horn into
the palm of his hand; this was carefully poured into the muzzle of his
gun, and then the round bullet, enclosed in a piece of greased cloth or
a damp bit of paper, was rammed down upon it.  The ramrod was afterwards
pushed back in place on the under-side of the barrel, and, raising the
clumsy hammer, which clasped the piece of yellow flint, the pan beneath
was filled with powder, connecting by means of a touch-hole with the
powder in the barrel behind the bullet.

The hammer was let down so as to hold the powder in place.  When the
owner wished to fire the gun he drew back the hammer, sighted, and
pulled the trigger.  The flint nipped against a piece of steel, giving
out a spark of fire, which set off the grains in the pan, the latter
also touching off the powder in the breech of the barrel, which drove
out the bullet.




                             *CHAPTER II.*

                    *TRAINING A KENTUCKY RIFLEMAN.*


I really think that if Jack Gedney had not known of the present his
father meant to make him he would have been too delighted to act like a
sensible boy. As it was, he could hardly keep from hugging the handsome
little gun when his father placed it in his hands, and told him that it
was his so long as he proved that he knew how to use it, and that he had
enough sense to be trusted alone in the woods.

Unwilling to accept Jack's promises, his father took down his own weapon
from the deer's antlers over the broad fireplace, and went a short
distance with him to test the new piece.  On the edge of the clearing he
paused until the lad loaded the weapon with powder and ball (for, of
course, the cow's horn and bullet pouch went with the present), and
then, looking among the branches overhead, where several grey squirrels
were whisking along the limbs, he told Jack he might take his choice.
During the few seconds that the boy was darting his quick glances at the
lively creatures his father quietly cut a piece of hickory as thick as
his thumb, and three or four feet long.  Jack looked askance at him; he
knew well what it meant.

Since the youth had not yet fired his new gun, he decided to make his
task as light as he could.  He raised his piece and sighted at a
squirrel less than a hundred feet away, but before he could make his aim
sure his father spoke sharply--

"Take the black one on the tree beyond."

It was a long and difficult shot, but Jack's nerves were steady, and a
few seconds after he raised his rifle he pressed the trigger.  The gun
"hung fire" scarcely a moment, when a jet of flame shot from the muzzle,
and Mr. Gedney, who had his eyes fixed on the squirrel, saw it vanish
over the limb, and then come tumbling and overturning through the
branches to the ground.

"Fetch it here," commanded his father.

Without moving a step, Jack deliberately began re-loading his piece,
never pausing until the powder was poured in the pan and the hammer let
down in place.  The father half smiled, for he had expected his boy to
forget in his natural excitement the rule about re-charging his gun.

Having finished, Jack walked forward to the foot of the tree, picked up
the small furry body where it lay among the leaves, and brought it to
his parent.  The latter took it from his hand, glanced down, and then
flung it aside, tossing the hickory after it.

Shall I tell you why he cut that stick just before his boy fired at the
squirrel?  When he looked at the little animal he saw that its head had
been shot off. Had the bullet missed the head and struck any other part
of the body he would have plied that stick about the legs and back of
his boy until he yelled for mercy. He had done it more than once, and
he, like many another Kentuckian, considered that that was the right way
to train his child how to shoot.

"Bark that one up there," said Mr. Gedney, pointing at another of the
creatures that was skurrying along one of the upper limbs, its bushy
tail spread out like an angry cat.

Crack!

As the sharp report rang out among the trees the squirrel at which the
boy fired flew up nearly a foot above the limb along which it was
running, as though thrown aloft by a steel spring, and then it dropped
through limbs and leaves to the ground, where it lay stone dead.

An examination showed no wound upon it.  The bullet had been sent
directly beneath the body so as to chip off some of the bark, which flew
against the squirrel with such force as to knock the life out of it.
This is called "barking," and is sometimes practised for the fun of the
thing by skilful marksmen.

Having viewed the work of his boy, Mr. Gedney could find no fault.
Indeed, he did not expect him to do so well, knowing his agitation over
his present. He did not seem to think it worth while to praise Jack,
but, with a twinkle of his eye, he merely said--

"You'll do; off with you!"

And without another word, Mr. Gedney, with his heavy rifle slung over
his shoulder, strode off to his cabin, leaving his boy to spend the day
as he chose, well knowing how he would pass it.

As I have told you, the nearest neighbours to Mr. Gedney were the Burton
family, who lived about a mile to the eastward.  Mr. Burton was more
fortunate than Mr. Gedney in the way of children, for he had two boys,
William and George, the one a year younger and the other a year older
than Jack, while Ruth, the daughter, was a sweet girl of seven years.

It was natural that the two families should become fond of each other,
and that there should be much visiting on the part of the parents as
well as by the children.  There was hardly a night that Jack was not at
the Burton cabin, or his friends were not at his own home.  They did a
good deal of hunting together, and the Burton boys were skilful with
their guns, each one owning a weapon light enough to be handled by its
youthful owner.  I must add, however, that neither of them was the equal
of Jack, as was proven in many contests between them.

Now Will and George Burton had known for several weeks of the present
that was to be made to Jack, and they were as pleased as they could be
over his coming good fortune.  What could be more natural, therefore,
than that Jack should set out for the home of his young friends, that
they might rejoice with him over the prize that had fallen to his lot?

It was a bright sunshiny day in October when the proud boy set out over
the winding but well-worn path that led to the cabin of the Burtons a
mile away. The leaves on the trees were beginning to turn yellow and red
before, aflame with the beauties of autumn, they fluttered to the
ground.  It was a royal time for hunting, for the deer, bears,
buffaloes, and indeed all kinds of game, were in prime condition.  The
heart of the boy beat high with the thought that many of these prizes
must fall before that splendid weapon of which he had just become the
owner.

I am sure you would have said that Jack Gedney was a fine fellow, could
you have seen him as he strode along the path through the Kentucky
forest a hundred years ago.  In the first place, he was rather large for
his years, and erect, sturdy, and strong.  His brown eyes sparkled with
high health, and his round cheeks glowed like the pulpy fulness of a red
apple. The life that the young pioneers led was one that was sure to
make them strong, rugged, and vigorous.

If you had met Jack in the streets of London or New York you would have
been struck by his dress. His cap was formed by the deft fingers of his
mother. It was of brown thick cloth, without any forepiece, soft, warm,
and able to stand a great deal of wear.  Its make and pattern were such
that no matter how it was put on its head, it was in place.

His coat was of the same material, and it was intended to last a good
long time.  In some respects it resembled the suits often worn by
bicyclists of the present day, having a band that enclosed the body just
below the waist, while the skirt was only a few inches in length.  The
coat was buttoned down the front, and contained several pockets within.
Underneath the coat was the homespun shirt, made by the spinning-wheel,
under the guidance of his mother.

The resemblance of the dress to the bicycle suit of to-day was made more
striking by the trousers ending at the knee, below which were the thick
woollen stockings and heavy shoes.  During very cold weather the
stockings were protected by leggings, reaching from the knee to the
shoes.  I suppose you know that the fashion of the trousers worn by you
was altogether unknown during the days of your great-parents.

Now, I am sure that none of us can blame Jack if, on this beautiful
October morning, when he slung his pretty rifle over his shoulder, he
threw his head a little farther back than usual, and stepped off with a