The wary
savages had provided themselves with sharpened sticks. Rending the
skies with their yells, they rushed forward from the gloom of the woods
upon the totally unprovided garrison, and very speedily plugged up the
loop-holes, so that not a musket could be discharged through them.

Then with their hatchets they commenced cutting down the palisades. The
bewilderment and consternation within was indescribable. A few of the
assailants hewing at the barricades were shot down, but others
instantly took their places. Soon a breach was cut through, and the
howling warriors like maddened demons rushed in. There was no mercy
shown. The gleaming tomahawk, wielded by hundreds of brawny arms,
expeditiously did its work. Men, women, and children were
indiscriminately cut down and scalped. It was an awful scene of
butchery. Scarcely an individual escaped.

One athletic boy, after having seen his father, mother, four sisters,
and four brothers tomahawked and scalped, pursued by the savages, with
frantic energy succeeded in leaping the palisades. Several Indians gave
chase. He rushed for the woods. They hotly pursued. He reached a
sluggish stream, upon the shore of which, half-imbedded in sand and
water, there was a mouldering log, which he chanced to know was hollow
beneath. He had but just time to slip into this retreat, when the
baffled Indians came up. They actually walked over the log in their
unavailing search for him. Here he remained until night, when he stole
from his hiding-place, and in safety reached Fort Montgomery, which was
distant about two miles from Fort Mimms.

CHAPTER IV.

The Soldier Life.

War with the Creeks.--Patriotism of Crockett.--Remonstrances of his
Wife.--Enlistment.--The Rendezvous.--Adventure of the
Scouts.--Friendlier Indians.--A March through the Forest.--Picturesque
Scene.--The Midnight Alarm.--March by Moon-light.--Chagrin of
Crockett.--Advance into Alabama.--War's Desolations.--Indian
Stoicism.--Anecdotes of Andrew Jackson.--Battles, Carnage, and Woe.

The awful massacre at Fort Mimms, by the Creek Indians, summoned, as
with a trumpet peal, the whole region to war. David Crockett had
listened eagerly to stories of Indian warfare in former years, and as
he listened to the tales of midnight conflagration and slaughter, his
naturally peaceful spirit had no yearnings for the renewal of such
sanguinary scenes. Crockett was not a quarrelsome man. He was not fond
of brawls and fighting