Upon his return from a reconnoissance in the Indian country, Kenton, when about to cross the Ohio into Kentucky, was captured by a band that had suffered recent defeat by the whites and was consequently in a ferocious mood. Their temper was not improved by the severe injuries that the scout inflicted on some of their number before he could be subdued. Few men on the frontier could command the cool common-sense that unfailingly characterized Boone in a critical situation. He would fight against the heaviest odds whilst any hope of success existed, but once convinced of the futility of resistance, he avoided creating unnecessary rancor by continuing it. Kenton on this occasion fought like a catamount and so aroused the resentment of his assailants that when they had disarmed him they continued to lay on their clubs and tomahawks until he lapsed into unconsciousness. When the scout came to his senses, he found himself “spread-eagled,” face downwards upon the earth. His arms and legs had been extended and pegged down so that the body lay in the form of a Maltese cross. The position did not permit of any movement save that of slightly raising the head. As time wore on the body became filled with excruciating pains and Kenton passed the night in intense suffering. He did not doubt that he was reserved for worse tortures. Otherwise the Indians would have vented their anger by killing him. In the morning the party took up the march after strapping Kenton along the bare back of an unbroken horse. All day his limbs were racked by the fresh pains of this cruel mode of progression, and at night he was crucified as before. This march, with its unceasingly attendant agonies, continued for three days and nights. On the fourth the Indians arrived at the village of Chillicothe. By this time Kenton would have welcomed death, but he was to endure much more. After his captors had refreshed themselves with food and rest, the entire population of the place assembled in the great square and Kenton was led forth to afford amusement for them. After he had been subjected to the jibes and floutings of the children and squaws, he was bound to a post and flogged upon the bare back with switches until the blood flowed copiously. Meanwhile the redskins danced around him, howling with demoniac delight. But they tired of this pastime when it was found impossible to extract a cry of pain from the victim.