CHAPTER XII.
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. Crrickett
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, aud 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 costernation, 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."
