The site of the present city of Louisville was but a desolate wilderness a hundred years ago; when forest and prairie divided the banks of the river, and the game roamed, unfrightened by white or red. Here, late in the month of June, 1778, a considerable camp was pitched, the rows of fires and tethered horses announcing the presence of several hundred men, while the woodland costume of the occupants proclaimed them to be unmitigated backwoods settlers and hunters.

A large, powerful man, black-haired and bearded, with tremendous shoulders, stood by the banks of the Ohio, in company with Boone and Kenton, all three watching the stream above them, where the outlines of Clark’s bateaux were readily discernible, coming down the river. Below them could be heard the roaring noise of those steep and dangerous rapids, now known as Louisville Falls; and at this point had Clark ordered a concentration of all the forces raised to defend Kentucky.

The big man was the renowned Captain Harrod, of Harrodsburg, whose company was one of those designed for the secret expedition, whose purpose was as yet unknown to all but the leader.

“I’m thinkin’ we’ll know all about the colonel’s plans middlin’ quick, when he comes in,” remarked Kenton, as he leaned on his rifle. “The boys are in fur a scrimmage, but they won’t go unless they know whar they’re goin’ to.”

“You may bet your boots on that,” said Harrod, dryly. “I hain’t no objections to tacklin’ Old Nick, ef I know whar I’m goin’; but I ain’t to be fooled with secret orders by no George Clark, when I c’u’d turn him over my knee and spank him.”

Daniel Boone turned his quiet blue eyes on Harrod, saying:

“Ain’t you a little hard on Colonel Clark, Billy? He ain’t[44] asked you to go on a wild-goose chase yet. I know you’re a good man of your hands, Billy, but Clark’s no boy. Wait till he tells us where we are to go, before you get mad. He holds the State commission, remember, to order us all.”

Harrod shook his head sulkily.

“He’s a good sodger, Dan’l, no discount on that; but I don’t like these hyar secret orders. Why don’t he come out and tell us whar he’s goin’ like a man?”

“Because there are spies round, Billy,” said Boone, boldly. “Who knows but what the British General at Detroit would hear all about his doings, if he divided the secret with a lot of fellows like them?” indicating the camp with a scornful gesture; “so full of whisky—when they can get it, that a child might suck them dry.”

“There are reason in cunnel’s words, Billy,” said Kenton, quietly. “Leastwise there ain’t no use talkin’, till Cunnel Clark comes. See, the head boat’s landin’ on Corn Island, and I guess we’ll hev to foller them into camp there.”

In fact, at this moment, Clark’s boats put in to an island that lay in the center of the river, and proceeded to disembark their crews, in sight of the Kentuckians.

Shortly after, a bark canoe shot out from the island, crossed the shallow belt of water that separated it from the south bank, and landed the same little officer already referred to as Adjutant Frank.

This smart little officer came strutting up to Big Bill Harrod, with a slender rapier clanking at his heels, and asked:

“Where shall I find Captain Bowman, the commandant, sir?”

Harrod looked down, half-contemptuously, at this tiny officer, whose head about reached his breast, and answered with a question:

“And what the Old Nick do you want of Joe Bowman, bubby? He ain’t used to suckin’ ’lasses candy.”

The little officer laughed merrily, without seeming in the least abashed.

“I see, you’re not Bowman, my man, for I was told he was a gentleman. Captain Kenton, where is Bowman?”

Kenton started.

[45]

“Why, how the Old Scratch do you know my name, sonny? I disremember ever seeing you before.”

“I am Colonel Clark’s adjutant, gentlemen,&............