The first movement of Boone was to fire. But the forbearance of
Calloway, and his own more prudent second thought, restrained him. It
was hard to forego such a chance for vengeance, but their own lives and
their children's would probably pay the forfeit, and they fired not. On
the contrary, they surrendered themselves to the Indians, who rushed
furiously in a mass around them. By significant gestures, and a few
Indian words, which they had learned, they implored the lives of their
captive children, and opportunity for a parley. Seeing them in their
power, and comprehending the language of defenceless suppliants, their
fury was at length with some difficulty restrained and appeased. They
seemed evidently under the influence of a feeling of compassion towards
the daughters, to which unquestionably the adventurous fathers were
indebted, that their lives were not instantly sacrificed. Binding them
firmly with cords, and surrounding them with sentinels, the Indians
retired to their camp, not to resume their sleep, but to hold a council
to settle the fate of their new prisoners.

What were the thoughts of the captive children, or of the disinterested
and brave parents, as they found themselves bound, and once more in the
power of their enemies--what was the bitter disappointment of the one,
and the agonizing filial apprehension of the other--may be much more
readily imagined than described. But the light of the dawn enabled the
daughters to see, in the countenances of their fathers, as they lay
bound and surrounded by fierce savages, unextinguishable firmness, and
undaunted resolution, and a consciousness of noble motives; and they
imbibed from the view something of the magnanimity of their parents, and
assumed that demeanor of composure and resolute endurance which is
always the readiest expedient to gain all the respect and forbearance
that an Indian can grant.