ill lay
scattered all about. Many of their frames were still perfect, as their
bones had not separated."

As they were thus despairingly tottering along, they came across a
narrow Indian trail, with fresh footmarks, indicating that moccasined
Indians had recently passed along. It shows how little they had cause
to fear from the Indians, that Crockett, entirely alone, should have
followed that trail, trusting that it would lead him to some Indian
village, where he could hope to buy some more corn. He was not deceived
in his expectation. After threading the narrow and winding path about
five miles, he came to a cluster of Indian wigwams. Boldly he entered
the little village, without apparently the slightest apprehension that
he should meet with any unfriendly reception.

He was entirely at the mercy of the savages Even if he were murdered,
it would never be known by whom. And if it were known, the starving
army, miles away, pressing along in its flight, was in no condition to
send a detachment to endeavor to avenge the deed. The savages received
him as though he had been one of their own kith and kin, and readily
exchanged corn with him, for powder and bullets. He then returned, but
did not overtake the rest of the army until late in the night.

The next morning they were so fortunate as to encounter a detachment of
United States troops on the march to Mobile. These troops, having just
commenced their journey, were well supplied; and they liberally
distributed their corn and provisions. Here Crockett found his youngest
brother, who had enlisted for the campaign. There were also in the band
many others of his old friends and neighbors. The succeeding day, the
weary troops, much refreshed, reached a point on the River Coosa
opposite Fort Strother, and crossing the stream, found there shelter
and plenty of provisions.

We know not, and do not care to know, who was responsible for this
military movement, which seems to us now as senseless as it was cruel
and disastrous. But it is thus that poor humanity has ever gone
blundering on, displaying but little wisdom in its affairs. Here
Crockett had permission to visit his home, though he still owed the
country a month of service. In his exceeding rude, unpolished style
which pictures the man, he writes:

"Once more I was safely landed at home with my wife and children. I
found them all well and doing well; and though I was only a rough sort
of backwoodsman, they seemed might