The ceremony of adoption into the tribe was a painful one, which Boone had to endure.  Part of it consisted in plucking out all the hairs of his head with the exception of the scalp-lock, of three or four inches diameter.  But the shrewd captive bore his inflictions with equanimity, and appeared perfectly contented with his lot.  The new son of the tribe, with his scalp-lock, painted face, and Indian dress, and his skin deeply embrowned by constant exposure to the air, could hardly be distinguished from one of themselves, while his seeming satisfaction with his new life was well adapted to throw the Indians off their guard.  His skill in all manly exercises and in the use of arms was particularly admired by his new associates, though, as Boone says, he “was careful not to exceed many of them in shooting, for no people are more envious than they in this sport.”

His wary captors, however, were not easily to be deceived.  Seemingly, Boone was left free to go where he would, but secretly he was watched, and precautions taken to prevent his escape.  He was permitted to go out alone to hunt, but the Indians always carefully counted his balls and measured his charges of powder, determined that he should have none to aid him to procure food in a long flight.  Shrewd as they were, however, Boone was more than their match.  In his hunting expeditions he cut his balls in half, and used very small charges of powder, so that he was enabled to bring back game while gradually secreting a store of ammunition.

And thus the days and weeks went on, while Daniel Boone remained, to all outward appearance, a contented Shawnee warrior.  But at length came a time when flight grew imperative.  He had been taken to the salt-licks with a party of Indians to aid them in making salt.  On returning to Chillicothe he was alarmed to see the former peaceful aspect of the village changed to one of threatened war.  A band of four hundred and fifty warriors had been collected for a hostile foray, and to his horror he learned that Boonesborough was the destined point of attack.

In this fort were his wife and children.  In the present state of security of the inmates they might easily be taken by surprise.  He alone could warn them of their danger, and to this end he must escape from his watchful foes.

Boone was not the man to let the anxiety that tore his heart appear on his face.  To all seeming he was careless and indifferent, looking on with smiling face at their war-dances, and hesitating not to give them advice in warlike matters.  He knew their language sufficiently to understand all they said, but from the moment of his captivity had pretended to be entirely ignorant of it, talking to them only in the jargon which then formed the medium of communication between the red men and the whites, and listening with impassive countenance to the most fear-inspiring plans.  They, therefore, talked freely before him, not for a moment dreaming that their astute prisoner had solved the problem of their destination.  As for Boone, he appeared to enter with whole-souled ardor into their project and to be as eager as themselves for its success, seeming so fully in sympathy with them, and so content with his lot, that they absorbed in their enterprise, became less vigilant than usual in watching his movements.