Adventures on the Prairie.
Disappearance of the Bee Hunter.--The Herd of Buffalo Crockett
lost.--The Fight with the Cougar.--Approach of Savages.--Their
Friendliness.--Picnic on the Prairie.--Picturesque Scene.--The Lost
Mustang recovered.--Unexpected Reunion.--Departure of the
Savages.--Skirmish with the Mexicans.--Arrival at the Alamo.
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, 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 blest. It was 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 those sounds, growing more and more distinct, were not sounds of
peace, were not eolian warblings; they were mutterings as of a rising
tempest, and inspired awe and a sense of peril. Straining their eyes
toward 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, sweeping the very surface of the prairie. This strange,
menacing cloud was approaching with manifestly great rapidity. It was
coming directly toward the grove where the travellers were sheltered. A
cloud of dust accompanied the phenomenon, ever growing thicker and
rising higher in the air.
"What can that all mean?" 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 tornadoes which
occasionally swept the region, bearing down everything before it. The
men all rushed for the protection of the mustangs. In the greatest
haste 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 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 herd seemed to fill the horizon. Their numbers could not be
counted. They were all driven by some common impulse of terror. In
their head-long plunge, those 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 travellers 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 hard hoofs.
But it so chanced that they were upon what is called a rolling prairie,
with its graceful 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 were too much
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, his head near the ground, and his stout, bony horns projected
as if he were just ready to plunge upon his foe. Crockett writes:
"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
Betsey 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 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 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. Speedily 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 expanse of verdure. 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 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 yet scarcely in the least diminished the
distance between him and the swift-footed buffaloes. Ere 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 jaded beast was rapidly being
distance 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 buffalos
entirely disappeared from view in the distance. Crockett writes:
"I now paused to allow my mustang to breathe, 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 principle to go ahead, and so I turned to the west and
pushed forward.
"I had not rode more than an hour before I 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 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 an 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 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 travelled around and around for a whole day before he
discovered his error. This I thought was a 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 with the slightest trace
of a human being. Evening was approaching, still, calm, and bright. The
most singular and even oppressive silence prevailed, for neither 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, 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
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 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. It was all God's work. "When I looked
around and fully realized it all," writes Crockett, "I thought of the
clergyman who had preached to me in the wilds of Arkansas."
Colonel Crockett rode out upon the prairie. The horses no sooner espied
him than, excited, but not alarmed, the whole drove, with neighings,
and tails uplifted like banners, commenced coursing around 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
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 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
mane streaming. My little critter, who was both blood and bottom,
seemed delighted at being at the head of the heap; and having once
fairly got started, I wish I may be shot if I did not find it
impossible to stop him. He kept along, tossing his head proudly, and
occasionally neighing, as much as to say, "Come on, my hearties, you
see I ha'n't forgot our old amusement yet." And they did come on with a
vengeance, clatter, clatter, clatter, 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 mettle, 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 the lead for full half an
hour, frequently neighing 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. 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 was at all in the nature of things. I plied the lash and spur, and
the little critter took it quite kindly, and tossed his head, and
neighed, as much as 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 heavily burdened mustang, and shooting ahead, 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
pell-mell into the 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 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 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. 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 a large Mexican cougar, sometimes called
the panther or American lion. This animal, endowed with marvellous
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 eying me as an epicure surveys 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 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
Crocket'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 levelled my Betsey and
blazed away. The report was followed by a 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 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 at 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 about and came at me with increased fury, occasioned by the
smarting of his wounds. I 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 a 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 the 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-bug. 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 my left hand, and tickled his ribs with
my haunting-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, and summoned all my
strength to throw him over. He resisted, was desperate 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 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 ever I had with a cougar, and I hope it may be the
last."
Crockett, breathless and bleeding, but signally a victor, took quiet
possession of the treetop, 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 crispy, hanging in festoons 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
traveller, 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 prepared for himself a frugal supper, carried his saddle
into the treetop, 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
awaking, he felt very stiff and sore from the wounds he had received in
his conflict with 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. 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 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 he was
lost, alone and on foot, on the boundless prairie. He was, however, too
much accustomed to scenes of the 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 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 viand 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 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 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 to the utmost
speed. It was a sublime and yet an 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
column swept on, and, with military precision, as it approached,
divided into two semicircles, and in an instant the two 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 chief sprang from his horse, and advancing with proud strides
toward Crockett, was struck with admiration at 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, 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 your get your spear-heads, 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 the
Comanche will do the same by his white brother."
Crockett 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 inquired," writes Crockett, "what had brought me there alone. I
told him I had come to hunt, and that my mustang had 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 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
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 a son of the tribe.
But this offer was respectfully declined.
This friendly chief kindly consented to escort Crockett as far as the
Colorado River. Crockett put his saddle on a fresh horse, and 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 prairie echo with their bugle-blasts, or, as Crockett
irreverently, but perhaps more correctly says, "The old squaws, 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 of the Indians immediately prepared his lasso, and
darted out toward 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 and with loud neighings. They then, following the
leadership of a splendid stallion, set off on a brisk canter, and soon
disappeared beyond the undulations of the prairie.
One of the mustangs remained quietly grazing. The Indian rode to within
a few yards of him, and very skilfully threw his lasso. The mustang
seemed to be upon the watch, for he adroitly dodged his head between
his forefeet and thus escaped the fatal noose. The Indian rode up to
him, and the horse patiently submitted to be bridled and thus secured.
"When 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. And 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 mustang's allowing himself to be captured
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
lasso will subdue them to submission, though they may have run wild for
years."
All the day long, Crockett, with his convoy of friendly savages,
travelled over the beautiful prairie. Toward evening they came across 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
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 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 steaks, and with his deadly bullet 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
steaks and roasting-pieces. Two or three fires were built. The horses
were hobbled and turned loose to graze. Every one of the Indians
selected his own portion, and all were soon merrily and even
affectionately engaged in this picnic feast, beneath skies which Italy
never rivalled, and surrounded with the loveliness of a park surpassing
the highest creations of art in London, Paris, or New York.
The Indians were quite delighted with their guest. He told them stories
of 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.
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 Bexar, they saw in the distance a single column of smoke
ascending the clear sky. Hastening toward it, they found that it rose
from the centre of a small grove near the river. When within a few
hundred yards the warriors extended their line, so as nearly to
encircle the grove, while the chief and Crockett advanced cautiously to
reconnoitre. 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, perceived that it was his lost
friend the juggler. He was all engaged in practising his game of
thimbles on the crown of his hat. Crockett was now restored to his
companion, and was near the plain road to Bexar. 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, preceded by the old squaw trumpeters
squalling like mad. The conjurer 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 in guiding 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 squadron then wheeled off and I saw them no
more. I have met with many polite men in my time, but no one who
possessed in a greater degree what may be called true spontaneous
politeness than this Comanche chief, always excepting Philip Hone, Esq.
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 fill 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
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 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 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 immediately dismounted, made a
rampart of their horses, and with the muzzles of their rifles pointed
toward 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 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, or we fire!" shouted the fellow with the red feather. The
pirate replied, with a piratic oath, "Fire away."
"And sure enough," writes Crockett, "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 the balance of the company were already retreating at a more rapid
gait than they approached. We hastily mounted and commenced pursuit,
which we 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, 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."