About dark the party came to halt, and encamped in the woods for the night.  Early on the ensuing morning they resumed their march; and a little before noon reached the southern bluffs of Licking river, opposite the Lower Blue Lick, distant from Bryan’s Station some thirty-six miles, and the place where, according to the opinion of Boone, the savages would be likely to lie in wait to give them battle.

The scenery in the vicinity of the Licks, even at the present day, is peculiarly wild and romantic; but at the period in question, it was relieved by nothing in the shape of civilization.  The Licks themselves had for ages been the resort of buffalo and other wild animals, which had come there to lick the saline rocks, and had cropped the surrounding hills of every green thing, thereby giving them a barren, desolate, gloomy appearance.  On the northern bank—­the one opposite our little army—­arose a tremendous bluff, entirely destitute of vegetation, the brow of which was trodden hard by the immense herds of buffalo which had passed over it from time immemorial on their way to and from the salt springs at its base.  To add to its dismal appearance, the rains of centuries had sloughed deep gullies in its side, and washed the earth from the rocks around its base, which, being blackened in the sun, now rose grim and bare, frowning in their majesty like fettered monsters of the infernal regions.  As you ascended this ridge, a hard level trace or road led back for something like a mile—­free from tree, stump or bush—­when you came to a point where two ravines, one on either hand, met at the top, and, thickly wooded, ran in opposite directions down to the river, which, beginning on the right, went sweeping round a large circuit, in the form of an iron magnet, and made a sort of inland peninsula of the bluff in question.  Back from this buffalo trace, on the southern bank of the Licking, dark heavy woods extended for miles in every direction, and made the whole scene impressive with a kind of gloomy grandeur.

As our gallant band of Kentuckians gained the river, they descried some three or four savages leisurely ascending the stony ridge on the opposite side.  On perceiving the troops, the Indians paused, gazed at them a few moments in silence, and then, quietly continuing their ascent, disappeared on the other side.  A halt was now ordered by Colonel Todd, and a council of war called to deliberate on what was best to be done.  The wild gloomy country around them, their distance from any post of succor, and the startling idea that perchance they were in the presence of a body of savages of double or treble their own numbers, was not without its effect upon Todd and those who had seconded his hasty movements, and served much toward cooling their ardor, and inspiring each other with a secret awe.

Immediately on the halt of the troops, some twenty officers assembled in front of the lines for consultation; when, turning to them, Colonel Todd said: