"Here is the story of a man who came on the frontier believing himself a murderer, and doing whatsoever he might to atone for a supposed crime committed at a moment when anger held possession of him. As you know, I was born in Fauquier County in 1755, where my father, an Irishman, had won for himself by hard labor such a home and such a plantation as a poor man could survey with pride. Up to the time I was sixteen years old there came no thought into my mind save to be a planter, and continue the work my father had begun. Then I loved a girl, the daughter of our nearest neighbor, and counted, with the consent of her parents as well as mine, on marrying her in due course of time. Martin Donnelly came into the district, and by unfair means, as I did and still claim, won her from me. I met him the day after he was married. He taunted me with what he had done; claimed that an Irish planter in Virginia was of so little consequence that the first newcomer could take from him whatsoever he had that was to be won by fair words, and continued in such strain until rage overpowered me. I leaped upon him like a panther, using no weapons; and with my bare hands pommeled him until he lay like one dead. Fear took the place of anger; I tried to rouse him; but he lay as does a corpse, and I, believing myself a murderer, fled, pursued only by my own conscience, across the Alleghanies, where I joined those who were pushing forward on the extreme frontier. Since that day have I shunned the abode of all men save those who live remote from any settlement. How often I have yearned to see my father and mother, there is no need for me to say. I dared not go back, believing I would be seized and executed as a murderer; but now I am free to do whatsoever I will, and save for the fact that my word binds me to remain as scout with Major Clarke until the expedition comes to an end with the capture of Vincennes, I would set off this hour for the home I have dreamed of, but never expected again to see." Having thus spoken Simon Kenton walked rapidly away up stream, and we three, awed by his story, and knowing that at such a time it would be best to leave him alone, returned to the camp, I for one feeling that however great a failure might be Major Clarke's expedition so far as concerned the British outposts, it was wondrously successful, inasmuch as through it there had been lifted from one man the shadow of a great crime.