The report of the outrage on the flat-boat, we say, reached our settlement, but it was discredited by many, among whom, of course, was Captain Parks. And even when the ranger himself related to the astonished people what he had witnessed and done, the irascible captain told him he had imagined it all. He held such faith in the chastisement given by Colonel Clark, that there was but one argument which could make him believe the savages had really commenced their outrages again. That argument, in its most convincing form, he was to receive. As is generally the case, the long pre-emption from attack gave to the pioneers an undue sense of security, and many of them more than once culpably exposed themselves to danger. No warning or remonstrances could induce some from plunging into the forest and erecting their cabins more than a rifle-shot from the block-houses. The restless, eager enterprise, so peculiar to the American people, manifested itself in every proceeding. In those days nearly every species of game abounded in the wood: the bear, buffalo, deer, panther, elk, coon, wolf, and the numberless smaller animals. These, with the myriads of delicious fish, showed the goodly inheritance of the pioneer. One morning, in the late summer, Captain Parks shouldered his rifle and plunged into the wood, determined to spend the day in the hunt. The minister, Edwards, ventured to caution him, but he only received an impatient “Umph!” for his good intentions. He would neither permit any one to accompany him, and evinced considerable temper when it was ventured upon the ground of safety. He turned his footsteps toward the Licking river, and his object was to bring down several deers. In a short time he reached a celebrated deer lick, and bringing his dog to him, concealed himself in the bushes. Lying thus, with his gaze turned up the lick, he saw nothing behind him until his dog uttered a low growl of alarm. Turning around, instead of an animal, he saw nothing less than a Shawnee Indian following his trail! But at this unlucky moment the dog gave a bark and sprang to his feet. The Indian, at the first alarm, sprung backward, and stood on the defensive, and the captain seeing that he was discovered, arose and approached him, while each held his rifle ready to fire at the first demonstration of the other. But neither fired, as they both recognized each other. The savage had often been in the settlement, and was generally known to the whites as a drunken, worthless sot. Some suspected him of treachery, although he had never been detected in any overt act, and professed friendship to them. But he had the appearance of a low, cunning fellow, and was carefully shunned by the most cautious. He had been christened Bill by the settlers, and it had been remarked that for the last few months he had not been noticed in the vicinity of the settlement. “Why, how see you, Bill?” asked the captain, extending his hand. “Me good. How captain?”