12 - Adventures on the Prairie

Chapter 12: Adventures on the Prairie
Details his journey to Texas, including encounters and experiences on the prairie, leading up to his arrival at the Alamo. Summary by Dream Audiobooks

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter twelve of David Crockett, His Life and Adventures. This
is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
LibriVox dot org. Recording by Brett W. Downey. David Crockett,
His Life and Adventures by John S. C Abbott, Chapter twelve,

(00:24):
Adventures on the Prairie. Soon after the bee hunter had disappeared,
all were startled by a strange sound, as of distant thunder.
It was one of the most beautiful of summer days.
There was not a cloud to be seen. The undulating
prairie waving with flowers lay spread out before them, more
beautiful under nature's bountiful adornings than the most artistic parterre

(00:48):
park or lawn which the hand of man ever reared.
A gentle, cool breeze swept through the grove, fragrant and refreshing,
as if from Araby the blessed. It was just just
one of those scenes, and one of those hours in
which all vestiges of the fall seemed to have been obliterated,
and Eden itself again appeared, blooming in its pristine beauty. Still,

(01:11):
those sounds growing more and more distinct, were not sounds
of peace, were not only in warblings. They were mutterings
as of a rising tempest, and inspired all in a
sense of peril, straining their eyes towards the far distant west.
Whence the sounds came. They soon saw an immense black cloud,
just emerging from the horizon, and apparently very low down,

(01:34):
sweeping the very surface of the prairie. This strange, menacing
cloud was approaching with manifestly great rapidity. It was coming
directly towards the grove where the travelers were sheltered. A
cloud of dust accompanied the phenomenon, ever growing thicker and
rising higher in the air. What can all that mean?

(01:55):
Exclaimed Crockett in evident alarm. The juggler sprang to his feet, saying,
burn my old shoes if I know. Even the mustangs
which were grazing near by, were frightened. They stopped eating,
pricked up their ears, and gazed in terror upon the
approaching danger. It was then supposed that the black cloud,
with its muttered thunderings, must be one of those terrible

(02:17):
tornadoes which occasionally swept the region, bearing down everything before it.
The men all rushed for the protection of the mustangs
in the greatest taste. They struck off their hobbles and
led them into the grove for shelter. The noise grew
louder and louder, and they had scarcely brought the horses
beneath the protection of the trees, when they perceived that

(02:38):
it was an immense herd of buffaloes, of countless hundreds,
dishing along with the speed of the wind, and bellowing
and roaring in tones as appalling as if a band
of demons were flying and shrieking in terror before some
avenging arm. The herds seemed to fill the horizon. Their
numbers could not be counted. They were all driven by
some common impulse of terror. In their headlong plunge, those

(03:02):
in front, pressed on by the innumerable throng behind. It
was manifest that no ordinary obstacle would in the slightest
degree retard their rush. The spectacle was sublime and terrible.
Had the travelers been upon the open plain, it seemed
inevitable that they must have been trampled down and crushed
out of every semblance of humanity by these thousands of

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hard hoofs. But it so chanced that they were upon
what is called a rolling prairie, with its grateful undulations
and gentle eminences. It was one of these beautiful swells
which the grove crowned with its luxuriance. As the enormous
herd came along with its rush and roar, like the
bursting forth of a pent up flood, the terrified mustangs

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were much too frightened to attempt to escape. They shivered
in every nerve as if stricken by an ague. An
immense black bull led the band. He was a few
feet in advance of all the rest. He came roaring along,
his tail erect in the air as a javelin near
the ground, and his stout, bony horns projected as if
he were just ready to plunge upon his foe. Crockett writes,

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I never felt such a desire to have a crack
at anything in all my life. He drew nigh the
place where I was standing. I raised my beautiful Betsy
to my shoulder and blazed away. He roared and suddenly stopped.
Those that were near him did so. Likewise. The commotion
occasioned by the impetus of those in the rear was
such that it was a miracle that some of them

(04:29):
did not break their heads or necks. The black bull
stood for a few moments pawing the ground after he
was shot, then darted off around the cluster of trees
and made for the uplands of the prairies. The whole
herd followed, sweeping by like a tornado. And I do
say I never witnessed a sight more beautiful to the
eye of a hunter in all my life. The temptation

(04:50):
to pursue them was too strong for Crockett to resist.
For a moment. He was himself bewildered, and stood gazing
with astonishment upon the wondrous spectacle SPEEDI he reloaded his rifle,
sprung upon his horse, and set out in pursuit over
the green and boundless prairie. There was something now quite
ludicrous in the scene. There was spread out an ocean

(05:11):
expanse of verdue a herd of countless hundreds of majestic buffaloes,
Every animal, very ferocious in aspect, was clattering along, and
a few rods behind them in eager pursuit was one
man mounted on a little insignificant Mexican pony, not much
larger than a donkey. It would seem that but a
score of this innumerable army need but turn round and

(05:33):
face their foe, and they could toss horse and rider
into the air, and then contemptuously trample them into the dust.
Crockett was almost beside himself with excitement, looking neither to
the right nor the left, unconscious in what direction he
was going, he urged forward, with whip and spur the
little mustang to the utmost speed of the animal, and

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yet scarcely in the least diminished the distance between him
and the swift footed buffaloes. Long it was evident that
he was losing in the chase. But the hunter, thinking
that the buffaloes could not long continue their flight at
such a speed, and that they would soon, in weariness,
loiter and stop to graze, vigorously pressed on, though his

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jaded beast was rapidly being distanced by the herd. At length,
the enormous moving mass appeared, but as a cloud in
the distant horizon. Still Crockett, his mind entirely absorbed in
the excitement of the chase, urged his weary steed on
until the buffaloes entirely disappeared from view in the distance.
Crockett writes, I now paused to allow my mustang to breathe,

(06:37):
who did not altogether fancy the rapidity of my movements,
and to consider which course I would have to take
to regain the path I had abandoned. I might have
retraced my steps by following the trail of the buffaloes,
but it had always been my principal to go ahead,
and so I turned to the west and pushed forward.
I had not rode more than an hour before I

(06:58):
found I was completely bewildered. I looked around, and there was,
as far as the eye could reach, spread before me
a country apparently in the highest state of cultivation. Extended fields,
beautiful and productive groves of trees cleared from the underwood,
and whose margins were as regular as if the art
and taste of man had been employed upon them. But

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there was no other evidence that the sound of the
axe or the voice of man had ever here disturbed
the solitude of nature. My eyes would have cheated my
senses into the belief that I was in in earthly paradise,
but my fears told me that I was in a wilderness.
I pushed along, following the sun, for I had no
compass to guide me. And there was no other path

(07:40):
than that which my mustang made. Indeed, if I had
found a beaten tract, I should have been almost afraid
to have followed it, For my friend the bee hunter
had told me that once, when he had been lost
in the prairies, he had accidentally struck into his own path,
and had traveled around and around for a whole day
before he discovered his error. This I thought was a

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poor way of going ahead, so I determined to make
for the first large stream and follow its course for
several hours. Crockett rode through these vast and lonely solitudes
the eden of nature, without meeting the slightest trace of
a human being. Evening was approaching, still calm and bright,
the most singular and even oppressive silence prevailed, for neither

(08:24):
voice of bird nor insect was to be heard. Crockett
began to feel very uneasy. The fact that he was
lost himself did not trouble him much, but he felt
anxious for his simple minded, good natured friend, the juggler,
who was left entirely alone and quite unable to take
care of himself under such circumstances. As he rode along

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much disturbed, by these unpleasant reflections, another novelty characteristic of
the Great West, arrested his attention and elicited his admiration.
He was just emerging from a very lovely grove carpeted
with grass which grew thick and green beneath the leafy
canopy which overarched it. There was not a particle of
underbrush to obstruct one's movement through this natural park. Just

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beyond the grove there was another expanse of treeless prairie,
so rich, so beautiful, so brilliant with flowers, that even
Colonel Crockett, all unaccustomed as he was to the devotional mood,
reined in his horse and, gazing, entranced upon the landscape, exclaimed,
O God, what a world of beauty hast thou made

(09:28):
for man? And yet how poorly does he requite THEE
for it? He does not even repay THEE with gratitude.
The attractiveness of the scene was enhanced by a drove
of more than a hundred wild horses, really beautiful animals,
quietly pasturing. It seemed impossible but that the hand of
man must have been employed in embellishing this fair creation.

(09:49):
It was all God's work. When I looked around and
fully realized at all, writes Crockett, I thought of the
clergyman who had preached to me in the wilds of Arkansas.
Colonel Bocket rode out upon the prairie. The horses no
sooner espied him than excited, but not alarmed. The hole drove,
with nangs and tails uplifted like banners, commenced coursing around

(10:12):
him in an extended circle, which gradually became smaller and smaller,
until they came in close contact, and the colonel, not
a little alarmed, found himself completely surrounded and apparently the
prisoner of these powerful steeds. The little mustang upon which
the colonel was mounted seemed very happy in its new companionship.
It turned its head to one side and then to

(10:33):
the other, and pranced and neighed playfully, biting at the
mane of one horse, rubbing his nose against that of another,
and in joyous gambols, kicking up its heels. The colonel
was anxious to get out of the mess, but his
little mustang was not at all disposed to move in
that direction. Neither did the other horses seem disposed to
acquiesce in such a plan. Crockett's heels were armed with

(10:56):
very formidable Spanish spurs with prongs sharp and long. The
hunter writes, to escape from the annoyance, I beat the
devil's tattoo on his ribs that he might have some
music to dance to. And we went ahead, right merrily.
The whole drove following in our wake, head up and
tail and main streaming. My little critter, who was both

(11:16):
blood and bottom, seemed delighted at being at the head
of the heap, having once fairly got started. I wish
I may be shot if I did not find it
impossible to stop him kept along, tossing his head proudly
and occasionally neighing as much to say, come on, my hearties.
You see I hadn't forgot our old amusement yet. And
they did come on with a vengeance. Clatter clatter clatter,

(11:39):
as if so many fiends had broke loose. The prairie
lay extended before me as far as the eye could reach,
and I began to think that there would be no
end to the race. My little animal was full of
fire and metal, and as it was the first bit
of genuine sport that he had had for some time,
he appeared determined to make the most of it. He
kept a lead for full half an hour, frequently neighing

(12:00):
as if in triumph and derision. I thought of John
Gilpin's celebrated ride, but that was child's play. To this,
the proverb says, the race is not always to the swift,
nor the battle to the strong, And so it proved
in the present instance. My mustang was obliged to carry weight,
while his competitors were as free as nature had made them.

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A beautiful bay, who had trod close upon my heels
the whole way, now came side by side with my mustang,
and we had it hip and thigh for about ten minutes,
in such style as would have delighted the heart of
a true lover of the turf. I now felt an
interest in the race myself, and for the credit of
my bit of blood, determined to win it, if it

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was at all in the nature of things. I plied
the lash in spur, and the little critter took it
quite kindly, and tossed his head and neighed as much
to say, Colonel, I know what you're after. Go ahead,
and he cut dirt in beautiful style. I tell you,
this could not last long. The wild steed of the
prairie soon outstripped the heavy burdened mustang, and, shooting ahead,

(13:02):
kicked up his heels as in derision. The rest of
the herd followed in the same disrespectful manner. Crockett jogged
quietly on in the rear, glad to be rid of
such troublesome and dangerous companions. The horses soon reached a stream,
which Crockett afterward learned was called the Navasola River. The
whole herd, following an adventurous leader, rushed pellmell into the

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stream and swam to the other side. It was a
beautiful sight to behold these splendid animals in such a
dense throng, crossing the stream, and then refreshed by their bath,
sweeping like a whirlwind over the plain beyond. Crockett's exhausted
pony could go no further. He fairly threw himself upon
the ground, as if in despair. Crockett took from the

(13:44):
exhausted animal the saddle and left the poor creature to
roll upon the grass and graze at pleasure. He thought
it not possible that the mustang could wander to any
considerable distance. Indeed, he fully expected to find the utterly
exhausted beast, who could no longer stand upon his legs
dead before morning. Night was fast closing around him. He

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began to look around for shelter. There was a large
tree blown down by the side of the stream, its
top branching out very thick and bushy. Crockett thought that
with his knife in the midst of that dense foliage,
with its interlacing branches, he could make himself a snug arbor,
where wrapped in his blanket he could enjoy refreshing sleep.

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He approached the tree and began to work among the
almost impervious branches when he heard a low growl, which
he says, he interpreted to mean stranger. These apartments are
already taken. Looking about to see what kind of an
animal he had disturbed and whose displeasure he had manifestly encountered,
he saw the brilliant eyes glaring through the leaves of

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a large Mexican cougar, sometimes called the panther or American lion.
This animal, endowed with marvelous agility and strength, will pounce
from his lair on a deer and even a buffalo,
and easily with tooth and claw tear him to pieces.
He was not more than five or six paces from me,
writes Crockett, and was eyeing me as an epicure surveys

(15:07):
the table before he selects his dish. I have no
doubt the cougar looked upon me as the subject of
a future supper. Rays of light darted from his large eyes.
He showed his teeth like a negro in hysterics, and
he was crouching on his haunches ready for a spring,
all of which convinced me that unless I was pretty
quick upon the trigger, posterity would know little of the

(15:29):
termination of my eventful career, and it would be far
less glorious and useful than I intend to make it.
The conflict which ensued cannot be more graphically described than
in Crockett's own words. One glance satisfied me that there
was no time to be lost. There was no retreat,
either for me or the cougar, so I leveled my
Betsy and blazed away. The report was followed by a

(15:51):
furious growl, and the next moment, when I expected to
find the tarnal critter struggling with death, I beheld him
shaking his head as if nothing more than a bee
had stung him. The ball had struck him on the
forehead and glanced off, doing no other injury than stunning
him for an instant and tearing off the skin, which
tended to infuriate him the more. The cougar wasn't long

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in making up his mind what to do, nor was
I neither, but he would have it all his own way,
and vetoed my motion to back out. I had not
retreated three steps before he sprang at me like a steamboat.
I stepped aside, and as he lit upon the ground,
I struck him violently with the barrel of my rifle,
but he didn't mind that, but wheeled around and made

(16:32):
it me again. The gun was now of no use,
so I threw it away and drew my hunting knife,
for I knew we should come to close quarters before
the fight would be over. This time he succeeded in
fastening on my left arm, and was just beginning to
amuse himself by tearing the flesh off with his fangs
when I ripped my knife into his side, and he
let go his hold, much to my satisfaction. He wheeled

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about and came at me with increased fury occasioned by
the smarting of his wounds. Now tried to blind him,
knowing that if I succeeded, he would become an easy prey.
So as he approached me, I watched my opportunity and
aimed to blow at his eyes with my knife, but
unfortunately it struck him on the nose, and he paid
no other attention to it than by a shake of

(17:15):
his head and a low growl. He pressed me close,
and as I was stepping backward, my foot tripped in
a vine and I fell to the ground. He was
down upon me like a night hawk upon a june pug.
He seized hold of the outer part of my right thigh,
which afforded him considerable amusement. The hinder part of his
body was towards my face. I grasped his tail with

(17:35):
my left hand and tickled his ribs with my hunting knife,
which I held in my right. Still, the critter wouldn't
let go his hold, and as I found that he
would lacerate my leg dreadfully unless he was speedily shaken off,
I tried to hurl him down the bank into the river,
For our scuffle had already brought us to the edge
of the bank. I stuck my knife into his side

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and summoned all my strength to throw him over. He resisted,
was desperately heavy, but at last I got him so
far down the declivity that he lost his balance, and
he rolled over and over till he landed on the
margin of the river. But in his fall he dragged
me along with him. Fortunately I fell uppermost, and his
neck presented a fair mark for my hunting knife. Without

(18:18):
allowing myself time even to draw breath, I aimed one
desperate blow at his neck, and the knife entered his
gullet up to the handle and reached his heart. He
struggled for a few moments and died. I have had
many fights with bears, but that was mere child's play.
This was the first fight I ever had with a cougar,
and I hope it may be the last. Crockett, breathless

(18:39):
and bleeding, but signally a victor, took quiet possession of
the tree top, the conquest of which he had so
valiantly achieved. He parted some of the branches, cut away others,
and intertwining the softer twigs something like a bird's nest,
made for himself a very comfortable bed. There was an
abundance of moss, dry, pliant and crisp, hanging in festoons

(19:01):
from the trees. This, spread in thick folds over his litter,
made as luxuriant a mattress as one could desire. His
horse blanket being laid down upon this, the weary traveler,
with serene skies above him and a gentle breeze breathing
through his bower, had no cause to envy the occupant
of the most luxurious chamber wealth can furnish. He speedily

(19:22):
prepared for himself a frugal supper, carried his saddle into
the tree top, and, though oppressed with anxiety in view
of the prospect before him, fell asleep and in blissful unconsciousness.
The hours passed away until the sun was rising in
the morning. Upon awakening, he felt very stiff and sore
from the wounds he had received in his conflict with

(19:43):
the cougar. Looking over the bank, he saw the dead
body of the cougar lying there, and felt that he
had much cause of gratitude that he had escaped so
great a danger. He then began to look around for
his horse, but the animal was nowhere to be seen.
He ascended one of the gentle swells of land, whence
he could look far and wide over the unobstructed prairie.

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To his surprise, and not a little to his consternation,
the animal had disappeared without leaving trace of hair or hide.
At first he thought the mustang must have been devoured
by wolves or some other beasts of prey. But then
it was manifest that they could not have eaten his bones,
and something would have remained to indicate the fate of
the poor creature. While thus perplexed, Crockett reflected sadly that

(20:26):
he was lost, alone and on foot on the boundless prairie.
He was, however, too much accustomed to scenes of wildest
adventure to allow himself to be much cast down. His
appetite was not disturbed, and he began to feel the
cravings of hunger. He took his rifle and stepped out
in search of his breakfast. He had gone but a
short distance ere he saw a large flock of wild

(20:48):
geese on the bank of the river. Selecting a large,
fat gander, he shot him, soon stripped him of his feathers,
built a fire, ran a stick through the goose for
a spit, and then, supporting it on two sticks with prongs,
roasted his savory ve end in the most approved style.
He had a little tin cup with him and a
paper of ground coffee with which he made a cup

(21:10):
of that most refreshing beverage. Thus he breakfasted sumptuously. He
was just preparing to depart, with his saddle upon his shoulder,
much perplexed as to the course he should pursue, when
he was again alarmed by one of those wild scenes
ever occurring in the west. First faintly, then louder and louder,
came the sound as of the trampling of many horses

(21:32):
on the full gallop. His first thought was that another
enormous herd of buffaloes was sweeping down upon him. But
soon he saw in the distance a band of about
fifty Comanche Indians, well mounted, painted, plumed, and bannered, the
horse and rider apparently one animal, coming down upon him,
their horses being urged at the utmost speed. It was

(21:54):
a sublime and yet appalling spectacle as this band of
half naked savages, their spears glittering in the morning sun,
and their long hair streaming behind, came rushing on. Crockett
was standing in full view upon the banks of the stream.
The calm swept on, and, with military precision as it approached,
divided into two semicircles, and in an instant the two

(22:16):
ends of the circle reached the river, and Crockett was surrounded.
Three of the savages performed the part of trumpeters, and
with wonderful resemblance from their lips, emitted the pealing notes
of the bugle. Almost by instinct, he grasped his rifle,
but a flash of thought taught him that under the circumstances,
any attempt at resistance would be worse than unavailing. The

(22:38):
chief sprang from his horse and advancing with proud strides
towards Crockett. Was struck with admiration at the sight of
his magnificent rifle. Such a weapon with such rich ornamentation
had never before been seen on the prairies. The eagerness
with which the savage regarded the gun led Crockett to
apprehend that he intended to appropriate it to himself. The Comanches,

(23:01):
though a very warlike tribe, had held much intercourse with
the Americans, and friendly relations then existed between them and
our government. Crockett, addressing the chief, said, is your nation
at war with the Americans? No, was the reply, They
are our friends and where Crockett added, do you get

(23:21):
your spearheads, your rifles, your blankets, and your knives? We
get them from our friends, the Americans. The chief replied, well,
said Crockett, do you think that if you were passing
through their country as I am passing through yours, they
would attempt to rob you of your property? No, answered
the savage. They would feed me and protect me, and

(23:44):
the Comanche will do the same by his white brother.
Crockatt then inquired of the chief what had guided him
and his party to the spot where they had found him.
The chief said that they were at a great distance,
but had seen the smoke from his fire and had
come to ascertain the cause of it. He and wired,
writes Crockett, what had brought me there alone? I told
him I had come to hunt, that my mustang had

(24:07):
become exhausted, and though I thought he was about to die,
that he had escaped from me. At this, the chief
gave a low, chuckling laugh and said that it was
all a trick of the mustang, which is the most
wily and cunning of all animals, but he said that
as I was a brave hunter, he would furnish me
with another. He gave orders, and a fine young horse

(24:27):
was immediately brought forward. The savages speedily discovered the dead
body of the cougar and commenced skinning him. They were
greatly surprised on seeing the number of the stabs, and
inquired into the cause. When Crockett explained to them the conflict,
the proof of which was manifest in his own lacerated
skin and in the wounds inflicted upon the cougar, they

(24:48):
were greatly impressed with the valor he had displayed. The
chief exclaimed several times in tones of commingled admiration and astonishment,
brave hunter, brave man. He also expressed the earnest wish
that Crockett would consent to be adopted as the son
of the tribe. But this offer was respectfully declined. This

(25:08):
friendly chief kindly consented to escort Crockett as far as
the Colorado River. Crockett put his saddle on a fresh horse.
Having mounted, the chief with Crockett at his side, took
the lead, and off the whole band went scouring over
the pathless prairie at a rapid speed. Several of the
band were squaws. They were the trumpeters. They made the

(25:28):
prairie echo with their bugle blasts, or, as Crockett, irreverently,
but perhaps more correctly says, the old squalls at the
head of the troop were braying like young jackasses the
whole way. After thus riding over the green and treeless
expanse for about three hours, they came upon a drove
of wild horses quietly pasturing on the rich herbage. One

(25:50):
of the Indians immediately prepared his lasso and darted out
towards the herd to make a capture. The horses did
not seem to be alarmed by his approach, but when
he got pretty nigh them, they began to circle around him,
keeping at a cautious distance, with their heads elevated with
loud neighings. They then, following the leadership of a splendid stallion,
set off on a brisk canter and soon disappeared beyond

(26:12):
the undulations of the prairie. One of the mustangs remained
quietly grazing. The Indian rode to within a few yards
of him, and very skillfully threw his lazo. The mustang
seemed to be upon the watch, for he adroitly dodged
his head between his fore feet and thus escaped the
fatal news. The Indian rode up to him, and the
horse patiently submitted to be bridled and thus secured. When

(26:34):
I approached, writes Crockett, I immediately recognized in the captive
the pestilent little animal that had shammed sickness and escaped
from me the day before. When he caught my eye,
he cast down his head and looked rather sheepish, as
if he were sensible and ashamed of the dirty trick
he had played me. I expressed my astonishment to the
Indian chief at the mustangs, allowing himself to be captured

(26:57):
without any effort to escape. He told me that they
were generally hurled to the ground with such violence when
first taken with the lasso, that they remembered it ever after,
and that the sight of the laso, we'll subdue them
to submission, though they may have run wild for years.
All the day long, Crockett, with his convoy of friendly savages,
traveled over the beautiful prairie. Toward evening, they came across

(27:19):
a drove of fat buffaloes grazing in the richest of
earthly pastures. It was a beautiful sight to witness the
skill with which the Indians pursued and hunted down the
noble game. Crockett was quite charmed with the spectacle. It
is said that the Comanche Indians are the finest horsemen
in the world, always wandering about over the boundless prairies
where wild horses are found in countless numbers. They are

(27:42):
ever on horseback. Men, women and children, even infants, almost
in their earliest years, are taught to cling to the
mane of the horse. Thus the Comanche obtains the absolute
control of the animal, and when scouring over the plain,
bareheaded and with scanty dress, the horse and rider seem
veritably like one person. The Comanches were armed only with

(28:03):
bows and arrows. The herd early took fright and fled
with such speed that the somewhat exhausted horses of the
Comanches could not get within arrow shot of them. Crockett, however,
being well mounted and unsurpassed by any Indian in the
arts of hunting, selected a fat, young heifer which he
knew would furnish tender stakes, and with his deadly bullet

(28:24):
struck it down. This was the only beef that was killed.
All the rest of the herd escaped. The Indians gathered
around the slain animal for their feast. With their sharp knives.
The heifer was soon skinned and cut up into savory
stakes and roasting pieces. Two or three fires were built,
the horses were hobbled and turned loose to graze. Every

(28:44):
one of the Indians selected his own portion, and all
were soon merrily and even affectionately engaged in this picnic feast.
Beneath the skies which Italy never rivaled, and surrounded with
the loveliness of a park surpassing the highest creations of
art in London, par or New York. The Indians were
quite delighted with their guest. He told them stories of

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his wild hunting excursions and of his encounters with panthers
and bears. They were charmed by his narratives, and they
sat eager listeners until late into the night beneath the
stars and around the glowing camp fires. Then, wrapped in
their blankets, they threw themselves down on the thick green
grass and slept. Such are the joys of peace and friendship.

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They resumed their journey in the morning, and pressed along,
with nothing of special interest occurring until they reached the
Colorado River. As they were following down this stream to
strike the road which leads to Bayer, they saw in
the distance a single column of smoke ascending the clear sky.
Hastening toward it, they found that it rose from the
center of a small grove near the river. When within

(29:48):
a few hundred yards, the warriors extended their line so
as nearly to encircle the grove, while the Chief and
Crockett advanced cautiously to reconnoiter. To their surprise, they saw
a solitary man seated upon the ground near the fire,
so entirely absorbed in some occupation that he did not
observe their approach. In a moment, Crockett, much to his joy,

(30:08):
perceived that it was his lost friend, the juggler. He
was all engaged in practicing his game of thimbles on
the crown of his hat. Crockett was now restored to
his companion and was near the plain road to bear.
In describing this scene and the departure of his kind
Indian friends, the hunter writes, the chief shouted the war
whoop and Suddenly the warriors came rushing in from all quarters,

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preceded by the old squaw trumpeters, squalling like man. The
conjuror sprang to his feet and was ready to sink
into the earth when he beheld the ferocious looking fellows
that surrounded him. I stepped up, took him by the hand,
and quieted his fears. I told the chief that he
was a friend of mine, and I was very glad
to have found him, for I was afraid that he
had perished. I now thanked him for his kindness, and

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guided me over the prairies, and gave him a large
bowie knife, which he said he would keep for the
sake of the brave hunter. The whole squad and then
wheeled off, and I saw them no more. I've met
with many polite men in my time, but no one
who possessed in greater degree what may be called true
spontaneous politeness than this Comanche chief, always excepting Philip hone

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Esquire of New York, whom I look upon as the
politest man I ever did see, For when he asked
me to take a drink at his own sideboard, he
turned his back upon me. That I mightn't be ashamed
to feel as much as I wanted. That was what
I call doing the fair thing. The poor juggler was
quite overjoyed in meeting his friend again, whom he evidently
regarded with much reverence. He said that he was very

(31:37):
much alarmed when he found himself alone on the pathless prairie.
After waiting two hours in much anxiety, he mounted his
mustang and was slowly retracing his steps when he spied
the bee hunter returning. He was laden with honey. They
had then journeyed on together to the present spot. The
hunter had just gone out in search of game. He
soon returned with a plump turkey upon his shoulders. They

(31:59):
built their fire and were joyously cooking their supper when
the neighing of a horse near by startled them. Looking up,
they saw two men approaching on horseback. They proved to
be the old pirate and the young Indian with whom
they had lodged a few nights before. Upon being hailed,
they alighted and politely requested permission to join their party.
This was gladly assented to, as they were now entering

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a region desolated by the war between the Texans, and
the Mexicans, and where many small bands of robbers were wandering,
ready to plunder any weaker party they might encounter. The
next morning, they crossed the river and pushed on for
the fortress of Alamo, when within about twenty miles of
San Antonio, they beheld about fifteen mounted men, well armed,
approaching them at full speed. Crockett's party numbered five. They

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immediately dismounted, made a rampart of their horses, and with
the muzzles of their rifles pointed towards the approaching foe,
were prepared for battle. It was a party of Mexicans
when within a few hundred yards they reined in their horses,
and the leader, advancing a little called out to them
in Spanish to surrender. We must have a brush with
those blackguards, said the pirate. Let each one single out

(33:08):
his man for the first fire. They are greater fools
than I take them for. If they give us a
chance for a second shot, Colonel, just settle the business
with that talking fellow with the red feather. He's worth
any three of the party. Surrender, are we fire? Shouted
the fellow with the red feather. The pirate replied with
a peratic oath fire away, and sure enough, writes Crockett,

(33:32):
they took his advice. For the next minute, we were
saluted with a discharge of musketry, the report of which
was so loud that we were convinced they all had
fired before the smoke had cleared away. We had each
selected our man fired, and I never did see such
a scattering among their ranks. As followed, we beheld several
mustangs running wild without their riders over the prairie, and

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the balance of the company were already retreating at a
more rapid gait than they had approached. We hastily mounted
and commenced pursuit, which kept up until we beheld the
Independent flag flying from the battlements of the Fortress of Alamo,
our place of destination. The fugitives succeeded in evading our pursuit,
and we rode up to the gates of the fortress,

(34:14):
announced to the sentinel who we were, and the gates
were thrown open, and we entered amid shouts of welcome
bestowed upon us by the patriots. End of chapter recording
by Brett Downey