When they had taken their
prisoners, the more bloodthirsty warriors in the band wanted to
tomahawk them all on the spot. By his diplomatic discourse,
however, Boone dissuaded them, for the time being at least, and
the whole company set off for the towns on the Little Miami.
The weather became severe, very little game crossed their route,
and for days they subsisted on slippery elm bark. The lovers of
blood did not hold back their scalping knives and several of the
prisoners perished; but Black Fish, the chief then of most power
in Shawanoe councils, adopted Boone as his son, and gave him the
name of Sheltowee, or Big Turtle. Though watched zealously to
prevent escape, Big Turtle was treated with every consideration
and honor; and, as we would say today, he played the game. He
entered into the Indian life with apparent zest, took part in
hunts and sports and the races and shooting matches in which the
Indians delighted, but he was always careful not to outrun or
outshoot his opponents. Black Fish took him to Detroit when some
of the tribe escorted the remainder of the prisoners to the
British post. There he met Governor Hamilton and, in the hope of
obtaining his liberty, he led that dignitary to believe that he
and the other people of Boonesborough were eager to move to
Detroit and take refuge under the British flag.
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