Boone was one day at work in this shed. On the lower tiers was a large quantity of dry tobacco which the farmer required to move to the uppermost poles in order to make room for fresh leaves. He was standing upon the rails that supported the poles and just about to enter into his task when four Indians, carrying rifles, entered the place. “Now we got you, Boone,” cried the leader. “We carry you back to Chillicothe and you never get away again.” The days were past when the settler constantly had his gun beside him. Boone was unarmed, but he did not exhibit the slightest uneasiness. He kept his position and looked down upon the redskins with a pleasant smile. “Well, well! Is that you, Pewultee?” he cried, recognizing one of the sons of old Blackfish. “How is the squaw and how are the papooses? How is everyone at Chillicothe? I think I should like to see them all again.” The Indians expressed some impatience to have Boone come down, but his manner was so cordial that they fell under its spell as of old. He assured them that he would descend in a few minutes but begged them to wait until he should have finished his work. He kept up a running fire of talk about the old times, about adventures and fights that he and they had taken part in. The savages were soon absorbed in the conversation. They stood leaning upon their rifles and gazing up intently at the speaker. Meanwhile, Boone had been arranging his bundles of tobacco and at length had them adjusted to his satisfaction. Suddenly he removed two poles and the next instant the four Indians were buried beneath a huge pile of dry leaves. Before they could extricate themselves Boone had sprung through the open door and was fifty yards away. When he had reached what he considered a safe distance, the farmer turned and at the sight that met his eyes, burst into peals of laughter. The Indians, blinded and half suffocated, had groped their way out of the shed and were now aimlessly stumbling around, whilst their frames shook with violent coughing and sneezing. With scanty breath they cursed Boone’s cunning and bewailed their own folly. Boone went to the cabin and secured his rifle. He then bade the Indians, who were by this time somewhat recovered, get their guns and begone. He warned them that if he should catch them in that part of the country again worse would assuredly befall them. It would be interesting to know the story Pewultee and his companions told upon their returning to Chillicothe.