He had always been the friend of the white man, and had been noted particularly for his kindness and gentleness to children.

Up to this time he had lived at peace with the borderers, for though some of his kin had been massacred by them years before, he had forgiven the deed--perhaps not unmindful of the fact that others of his kin had been concerned in still more bloody massacres of the whites.

A skilled marksman and mighty hunter, of commanding dignity, who treated all men with a grave courtesy that exacted the same treatment in return, he was greatly liked and respected by all the white hunters and frontiersmen whose friendship and respect were worth having; they admired him for his dexterity and prowess, and they loved him for his straightforward honesty, and his noble loyalty to his friends.

One of these old pioneer hunters has left on record[21] the statement that he deemed "Logan the best specimen of humanity he ever met with, either white or red." Such was Logan before the evil days came upon him.
Early in the spring the outlying settlers began again to suffer from the deeds of straggling Indians.

Horses were stolen, one or two murders were committed, the inhabitants of the more lonely cabins fled to the forts, and the backwoodsmen began to threaten fierce vengeance.