added their screams of apprehension, and every thing was in a moment in confusion.  The first movement of Boone was to fire.  But the forbearance of Calloway, and his own more prudent second thought, restrained him.  It was hard to forego such a chance for vengeance, but their own lives and their children’s would probably pay the forfeit, and they fired not.  On the contrary, they surrendered themselves to the Indians, who rushed furiously in a mass around them.  By significant gestures, and a few Indian words, which they had learned, they implored the lives of their captive children, and opportunity for a parley.  Seeing them in their power, and comprehending the language of defenceless suppliants, their fury was at length with some difficulty restrained and appeased.  They seemed evidently under the influence of a feeling of compassion towards the daughters, to which unquestionably the adventurous fathers were indebted, that their lives were not instantly sacrificed.  Binding them firmly with cords, and surrounding them with sentinels, the Indians retired to their camp, not to resume their sleep, but to hold a council to settle the fate of their new prisoners.

What were the thoughts of the captive children, or of the disinterested and brave parents, as they found themselves bound, and once more in the power of their enemies—­what was the bitter disappointment of the one, and the agonizing filial apprehension of the other—­may be much more readily imagined than described.  But the light of the dawn enabled the daughters to see, in the countenances of their fathers, as they lay bound and surrounded by fierce savages, unextinguishable firmness, and undaunted resolution, and a consciousness of noble motives; and they imbibed from the view something of the magnanimity of their parents, and assumed that demeanor of composure and resolute endurance which is always the readiest expedient to gain all the respect and forbearance that an Indian can grant.

It would be difficult to fancy a state of more torturing suspense than that endured by the companions of Boone and Calloway, who had been left behind the hill.  Though they had slept little since the commencement of the expedition, and had been encouraged by the two fathers, their leaders to sleep that night, the emergency was too exciting to admit of sleep.

Often, during the night, had they aroused themselves, in expectation of the return of the fathers, or of a signal for action.  But the night wore away, and the morning dawned, without bringing either the one or the other.  But notwithstanding this distressing state of suspense, they had a confidence too undoubting in the firmness and prudence of their leader, to think of approaching the Indian camp until they should receive the appointed signal.