DANIEL BOONE had fought the Indians and won. He was fighting white men now and losing steadily. Year after year, a series of legal troubles plagued him. Indians with knives, rifles, war clubs, and tomahawks held no terror for Daniel Boone. Lawyers with calf-bound books, writs, summonses, and suits conquered him easily enough.
He had opened the land, cleared it, defended it. His daughter had been kidnapped. Two sons and a brother had been killed. Risking his own life had been such a commonplace for years that it was hardly worth mentioning.
Daniel Boone had the odd idea that he might own some of that land, particularly as he had received certificates from the state's own officials, specially appointed to give clear and valid title. However, he was wrong again. The lawyers explained that to the judge easily enough, though it was never quite clear to Daniel.
He was in no worse plight than other pioneers. Many a man discovered that the land which he had surveyed, cleared, cultivated, and defended was not his. Somebody else had owned it all the time—often somebody who had never endured the labors and dangers of the frontier. The heroic band who had fought through the desperate days at Bryan's Station were among those who discovered they were merely trespassers. In 1784 a traveler from Virginia pulled up his horse at the stockade gate. He had