But whenever Boone went into the woods after game, he had
perpetually to keep watch lest he himself might be hunted in
turn. He never lay in wait at a game-lick, save with ears
strained to hear the approach of some crawling red foe. He never
crept up to a turkey he heard calling, without exercising the
utmost care to see that it was not an Indian; for one of the
favorite devices of the Indians was to imitate the turkey call,
and thus allure within range some inexperienced hunter.

Besides this warfare, which went on in the midst of his usual
vocations, Boone frequently took the field on set expeditions
against the savages. Once when he and a party of other men were
making salt at a lick, they were surprised and carried off by the
Indians. The old hunter was a prisoner with them for some months,
but finally made his escape and came home through the trackless
woods as straight as the wild pigeon flies. He was ever on the
watch to ward off the Indian inroads, and to follow the
warparties, and try to rescue the prisoners. Once his own
daughter, and two other girls who were with her, were carried off
by a band of Indians. Boone raised some friends and followed the
trail steadily for two days and a night; then they came to where
the Indians had killed a buffalo calf and were camped around it.
Firing from a little distance, the whites shot two of the
Indians, and, rushing in, rescued the girls. On another occasion,
when Boone had gone to visit a salt-lick with his brother, the
Indians ambushed them and shot the latter. Boone himself escaped,
but the Indians followed him for three miles by the aid of a
tracking dog, until Boone turned, shot the dog, and then eluded
his pursuers. In company with Simon Kenton and many other noted