Captain Boone was deputed by the settlers to this service.  He selected thirty associates, and set out on the first of January, 1779, for the Blue Licks, on Licking river, a well known stream emptying into the Ohio, opposite where Cincinnati now stands.  They arrived at the place, and successfully commenced their operations.  Boone, instead of taking a part in the diurnal and uninterrupted labor, of evaporating the water, performed the more congenial duty of hunting to keep the company in provisions, while they labored.  In this pursuit he had one day wandered some distance from the bank of the river.  Two Indians, armed with muskets,—­for they had now generally added these efficient weapons to their tomahawks—­came upon him.  His first thought was to retreat.  But he discovered from their nimbleness, that this was impossible.  His second thought was resistance, and he slipped behind a tree to await their coming within rifle shot.  He then exposed himself so as to attract their aim.  The foremost levelled his musket.  Boone, who could dodge the flash, at the pulling of the trigger, dropped behind his tree unhurt.  His next object W&B to cause the fire of the Second musket to be thrown away in the same manner.  He again exposed a part of his person.  The eager Indian instantly fired, and Boone evaded the shot as before.  Both the Indians, having thrown away their fire, were eagerly striving, but with trembling hands, to reload.  Trepidation and too much haste retarded their object.  Boone drew his rifle and one of them fell dead.  The two antagonists, now on equal grounds, the one unsheathing his knife, and the other poising his tomahawk, rushed toward the dead body of the fallen Indian.  Boone, placing his foot on the dead body, dexterously received the well aimed tomahawk of his powerful enemy on the barrel of his rifle, thus preventing his skull from being cloven by it.  In the very attitude of firing the Indian had exposed his body to the knife of Boone, who plunged it in his body to the hilt.  This is the achievement commemorated in sculpture over the southern door of the Rotunda in the Capitol at Washington.

This adventure did not deter him from exposing himself in a similar way again.  He was once more hunting for the salt makers, when, on the seventh day of February following, he came in view of a body of one hundred and two Indians, evidently on their march to the assault of Boonesborough—­that being a particular mark for Indian revenge.  They were in want of a prisoner, from whom to obtain intelligence, and Boone was the person of all others whom they desired.  He fled; but among so many warriors, it proved, that some were swifter of foot than himself, and these overtook him and made him prisoner.

By a tedious and circuitous march they brought him back to the Blue Licks, and took their measures with so much caution, as to make twenty-seven of the thirty salt makers prisoners.  Boone obtained for them a capitulation, which stipulated, that their lives should be spared, and that they should be kindly treated.  The fortunate three, that escaped, had just been sent home with the salt that had been made during their ill-fated expedition.