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Updated: June 23, 2025
Thirteen years later, while engaged in selling pins, needles, thread, and Irish linens in the Yadkin country, Findlay learned from the Pennsylvania settlers at Salisbury or at the Forks of the Yadkin of Boone's removal to the waters of the upper Yadkin. At Boone's rustic home, in the winter of 1768-9, Findlay visited his old comrade-in-arms of Braddock's campaign.
After spending the winter in hunting and trapping, the Boones and Hill, discouraged by the forbidding aspect of the hill-country which with its dense growth of laurel was exceedingly difficult to penetrate, abandoned all hope of finding Kentucky by this route and wended their arduous way back to the Yadkin.
At this point on the march they were to be joined by William Russell, a famous pioneer, from the Clinch River, with his family and a few neighbors, and by some of Rebecca Boone's kinsmen, the Bryans, from the lower Yadkin, with a company of forty men.
In those days, deerskins sold for a dollar a skin to the traders at the Forks or in Hillsborough; beaver at about two dollars and a half, and otter at from three to five dollars. A pack-horse could carry a load of one hundred dressed deerskins, and, as currency was scarce, a hundred dollars was wealth. Game was fast disappearing from the Yadkin. To Boone above all men, then, Kentucky beckoned.
He was born in Pennsylvania in 1734, but when only a boy had been brought with the rest of his family to the banks of the Yadkin in North Carolina. Here he grew up, and as soon as he came of age he married, built a log hut, and made a clearing, whereon to farm like the rest of his backwoods neighbors.
The man chosen for the purpose was Christopher Gist, a hardy pioneer, experienced in woodcraft and Indian life, who had his home on the banks of the Yadkin, near the boundary line of Virginia and North Carolina. He was allowed a woodsman or two for the service of the expedition.
Boone's broad mouth was creased into a smile, and there was a trace of astonishment, too, in his kindly eye. "Mr. Boone came to my father's cabin on the Yadkin once," I said; "he taught me to skin a deer." "Ay, that I did," exclaimed Mr. Boone, "and I said ye'd make a woodsman sometime." Mr.
At the time of the war of the Revolution the county of Rowan embraced all that beautiful and agricultural region extending from the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains, eastwardly, to where the Yadkin river loses its name in the great Peedee; comprising a territory equal in extent to several of the States of the American Union, and presenting a varied topography, unsurpassed for bold mountain scenery and lovely landscapes spreading over the charming champaign country lying between the Yadkin and Catawba rivers.
The native land of the Cherokees was the most inviting and beautiful section of the United States, lying upon the sources of the Catawba and Yadkin rivers upon Keowee, Tugaloo, Etowab, Coosa and Flint, on the east and south, and several of the tributaries of the Tennessee, on the west and north.
I was born under the Blue Ridge, and under that side which is blue in the evening light, in a wild land of game and forest and rushing waters. There, on the borders of a creek that runs into the Yadkin River, in a cabin that was chinked with red mud, I came into the world a subject of King George the Third, in that part of his realm known as the province of North Carolina.
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