Of the seven white captives four were put to death with torture; three eventually rejoined their people.  One of them owed his being spared to a singular and amusing feat of strength and daring.  When forced to run the gauntlet he, by his activity, actually succeeded in reaching the council-house unharmed; when almost to it, he turned, seized a powerful Indian and hurled him violently to the ground, and then, thrusting his head between the legs of another pursuer, he tossed him clean over his back, after which he sprang on a log, leaped up and knocked his heels together, crowed in the fashion of backwoods victors, and rallied the Indians as a pack of cowards.  One of the old chiefs immediately adopted him into the tribe as his son.

All the little forted villages north of the Kentucky, and those lying near its southern bank, were plunged into woe and mourning by the defeat. [Footnote:  Arthur Campbell, in the letter already quoted, comments with intense bitterness on the defeat, which, he says, was due largely to McGarry’s “vain and seditious expressions.”  He adds that Todd and Trigg had capacity but no experience, and Boon experience but no capacity, while Logan was “a dull and narrow body,” and Clark “a sot, if nothing worse.”  Campbell was a Holston Virginian, an able but very jealous man, who disliked the Kentucky leaders, and indeed had no love for Kentucky itself; he had strenuously opposed its first erection as a separate county.] In every stockade, in almost every cabin, there was weeping for husband or father, son, brother, or lover.  The best and bravest blood in the land had been shed like water.  There was no one who had not lost some close and dear friend, and the heads of all the people were bowed and their hearts sore stricken.

The bodies of the dead lay where they had fallen, on the hill-slope, and in the shallow river; torn by wolf, vulture, and raven, or eaten by fishes.  In a day or two Logan came up with four hundred men from south of the Kentucky, tall Simon Kenton marching at the head of the troops, as captain of a company. [Footnote:  McBride’s “Pioneer Biography,” I., 210] They buried the bodies of the slain on the battle-field, in long trenches, and heaped over them stones and logs.  Meanwhile the victorious Indians, glutted with vengeance, recrossed the Ohio and vanished into the northern forests.

The Indian ravages continued throughout the early fall months; all the outlying cabins were destroyed, the settlers were harried from the clearings, and a station on Salt River was taken by surprise, thirty-seven people being captured.  Stunned by the crushing disaster at the Blue Licks, and utterly disheartened and cast down by the continued ravages, many of the settlers threatened to leave the country.  The county officers sent long petitions to the Virginia Legislature, complaining that the troops posted at the Falls were of no assistance in checking the raids of the Indians, and asserting that the operations