The three brave scouts reached old Chilicothe without meeting with any thing exciting. There they fell in with a drove of Indian horses, feeding on the rich prairie, and securing seven of the drove, started on their return. Reaching the Ohio, they found the river lashed into fury by a hurricane, and the horses refused to cross. Here was an unlooked-for dilemma. It was evening; they felt sure of being pursued; no time was to be lost. As the only resource, they rode back to the hills, hobbled the animals, and then retraced their steps to see if they were followed. Finding as yet no signs of pursuit, they took what rest their anxiety would allow them. The next morning, the wind having subsided, they sought their horses and again attempted to cross the river, but with the same result; the horses, from fright, refused to take to the water, and they were driven to the alternative of parting with them. Selecting each one of the best, they turned the others loose, and started for the Falls of the Ohio, (now just below Louisville); but disliking thus to abandon the fruits of their expedition, they unwisely returned again, to attempt to retake and lead the others. This was by no means an easy task, and while engaged in the endeavor, they were surprised by a party of mounted savages, who had followed their trail with vengeful pertinacity. The whites were separated; and Kenton, hearing a _whoop_ in the direction of his comrades, dismounted, creeping cautiously in the direction of the sound, to discover, if possible, the force of the enemy. Dragging himself forward on his hands and knees, he came suddenly upon several Indians, who did not discover him at the moment. Being surrounded, and thinking the boldest game the best, he took aim at the foremost and pulled trigger, but his gun missed fire. This, of course, discovered his position, and he was instantly pursued. Taking advantage of some fallen timber, he endeavored to elude his pursuers, by dodging them, and hiding in the underbrush, where their horses could not follow; but they were too cunning, or rather too many for him. Dividing their forces and riding along either side the timber, they "beat it up," until, as he was emerging at the further end, he was confronted by one of the savages, who, the moment he discovered his white foe, threw himself from his horse and rushed upon Kenton with his tomahawk. Kenton drew back his arm to defend himself with the butt end of his gun; but as he was about to strike, another stalwart savage, whom he had not observed, seized him in his powerful grasp, preventing the descending blow. He was now a prisoner, compelled to yield, with such grace as he could, to superior numbers. While they were binding him, his companion, Montgomery, made his appearance, firing at one of the savages, but missing his mark. He was immediately pursued; in a few moments one of the pursuers returned, shaking the bloody scalp of his friend in Kenton's face. Clark succeeded in making his escape, and crossing the river, arrived in safety at Logan's Station.