"
The creek was all that the two Frankfort lads had claimed for it.
It was two feet deep, clear, cold and swift, shadowed by great primeval
trees. Men and horses drank eagerly, and at last Colonel Winchester,
feeling that there was neither danger nor the need of hurry, permitted
them to undress and take a quick bath, which was a heavenly relief and
stimulant, allowing them to get clear of the dust and dirt of the day.
"It's a beauty of a creek," said Powell to Dick. "About a half mile
further down the stream is a tremendous tree on which is cut with a
penknife, 'Dan'l Boone killed a bar here, June 26, 1781.' I found it
myself, and I cut away enough of the bark growth with a penknife for it
to show clearly. I imagine the great Daniel and Simon Kenton and Harrod
and the rest killed lots of bears in these hills."
"I'd go and see that inscription in the morning," said Dick, "if I didn't
have a bit of war on my hands."
"Maybe you'll have a chance later on. But I'm feeling bully after
this cold bath. Dick, I came into the creek weighing two hundred and
twenty-five pounds, one hundred and fifty pounds of human being and
seventy-five pounds of dust and dirt.
Pages:
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345