Unluckily, expert as he was in woodcraft, Boone was a poor swimmer.  His skill in the water would never carry him across that rushing stream.  How to get across had for hours been to him a matter of deep anxiety.  Fortunately, on reaching its banks, he found an old canoe, which had drifted among the bushes of the shore, and stranded there, being full of water from a large hole in its bottom.

The skilled hunter was not long in emptying the canoe and closing the hole.  Then, improvising a paddle, he launched his leaky craft upon the stream, and succeeded in reaching the southern shore in safety.  Now, for the first time, did he feel sufficiently safe to fire a shot and to kindle a fire.  He brought down a wild turkey which, seasoned with hunger, made him the most delicious repast he had ever tasted.  It was the only regular meal in which he indulged in his flight.  Safety was not yet assured.  Some of his pursuers might be already across the river.  Onward he dashed, with unflagging energy, and at length reached the fort, after five days of incessant travel through the untrodden wilds.

He was like a dead man returned to life.  The people at the fort looked at him with staring eyes.  They had long given him up for lost, and he learned, much to his grief, that his wife and children had returned to their old home in North Carolina.  Just now, however, there was no time for sorrow, and little time for greeting.  The fort had been neglected, and was in bad condition.  The foe might even then be near at hand.  There was not a moment to spare.  He put the men energetically to work, and quickly had the neglected defences repaired.  Then determined to strike terror into the foe, he led a party of men swiftly to and across the Ohio, met a party of thirty savages near the Indian town of Paint Creek, and attacked them so fiercely that they were put to rout.

This foray greatly alarmed the Indians.  It put courage into the hearts of the garrison.  After an absence of seven days and a journey of a hundred and fifty miles, Boone and his little party returned, in fear lest the Chillicothe warriors might reach the fort during his absence.

It was not, however, until August that the Indians appeared.  They were four hundred and forty-four in number, led by Captain Duquesne and other French officers, and with French and British colors flying.  There were but fifty men in the fort.  The situation seemed a desperate one, but under Boone’s command the settlers were resolute, and to the summons to surrender, the daring commander returned the bold reply, “We are determined to defend our fort while a man of us lives.”

The next proposition of Duquesne was that nine of the garrison should come out and treat with him.  If they could come to terms he would peacefully retire.  The veteran pioneer well knew what peril lurked in this specious promise, and how little safety they would have in trusting their Indian foes.  But, moved by his bold heart and daring love of adventure, he assented to the dangerous proposition, though not without taking precautions for safety.  He selected nine of the strongest and most active of his men, appointed the place of meeting in front of the fort, at one hundred and twenty feet from the walls, and stationed the riflemen of the garrison so as to cover the spot with their guns, in case of treachery.