It would naturally be supposed that the deliberation of the Indian council, which had been held to settle the fate of Boone and Calloway, would end in sentencing them to run the gauntlet, and then amidst the brutal laughter and derision of their captors, to be burnt to death at a slow fire.  Had the prisoners betrayed the least signs of fear, the least indications of a subdued mind, such would in all probability have been the issue of the Indian consultation.  Such, however, was not the result of the council.  It was decreed that they should be killed with as little noise as possible; their scalps taken as trophies, and that their daughters should remain captives as before.  The lenity of this sentence may be traced to two causes.  The daring hardihood, the fearless intrepidity of the adventure, inspired them with unqualified admiration for their captives.  Innumerable instances have since been recorded, where the most inveterate enemies have boldly ventured into the camp of their enemy, have put themselves in their power, defied them to their face and have created an admiration of their fearless daring, which has caused that they have been spared and dismissed unmolested.  This sort of feeling had its influence on the present occasion in favor of the prisoners.  Another extenuating influence was, that hostilities between the white and red men in the west had as yet been uncommon; and the mutual fury had not been exasperated by murder and retaliation.

As soon as it was clear morning light, the Indian camp was in motion.  As a business preliminary to their march, Boone and Calloway were led out and bound to a tree, and the warriors were selected who were to despatch them with their tomahawks.  The place of their execution was selected at such a distance from their camp, as that the daughters might not be able to witness it.  The two prisoners were already at the spot, awaiting the fatal blow, when a discharge of rifles, cutting down two of the savages at the first shot, arrested their proceedings.  Another and another discharge followed.  The Indians were as yet partially supplied with fire arms, and had not lost any of their original dread of the effects of this artificial thunder, and the invisible death of the balls.  They were ignorant, moreover, of the number of their assailants, and naturally apprehended it to be greater than it was.  They raised a yell of confusion, and dispersed in every direction, leaving their dead behind, and the captives to their deliverers.  The next moment the children were in the arms of their parents; and the whole party, in the unutterable joy of conquest and deliverance, were on their way homewards.

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It need hardly be added that the brave associates of the expedition who had been left in camp, having waited the signal for the return of Boone and Calloway, until their patience and forbearance was exhausted, aware that something serious must have prevented their return, reconnoitered the movement of the Indians as they moved from their camp to despatch their two prisoners, and fired upon them at the moment they were about to put their sentence into execution.