ost a pathless
forest. His poverty was extreme. But the peculiar character of the man
was such that he did net seem to regard that at all. Two pack-horses
conveyed all their household goods. Crockett led the party, with a
child on one arm and his rifle on the other. He walked gayly along,
singing as merrily as the birds. Half a dozen dogs followed him. Then
came the horses in single file. His wife and older children, following
one after the other in single file along the narrow trail, closed up
the rear. It was a very singular procession, thus winding its way,
through forest and moor, over hills and prairies, to the silent shores
of the Mississippi. The eventful journey was safely accomplished, and
he found all things as he had left them. A rich harvest of golden ears
was waving in his corn-field; and his comfortable cabin, in all
respects as comfortable as the one he had left, was ready to receive
its inmates.

He soon gathered in his harvest, and was thus amply supplied with bread
for the winter. Fuel, directly at his hand, was abundant, and thus, as
we may say, his coal-bin was full. Game of every kind, excepting
buffaloes, was ranging the woods, which required no shelter or food at
his expense, and from which he could, at pleasure, select any variety
of the most delicious animal food he might desire. Thus his larder was
full to repletion. The skins of animals furnished them with warm and
comfortable clothing, easily decorated with fringes and some bright
coloring, whose beauty was tasteful to every eye. Thus the family
wardrobe was amply stored. Many might have deemed Crockett a poor man.
He regarded himself as one of the lords of creation.

Christmas was drawing nigh. It may be doubted whether Crockett had the
slightest appreciation of the sacred character of that day which
commemorates the advent of the Son of God to suffer and die for the
sins of the world. With Crockett it had ever been a day of
jollification. He fired salutes with his rifle. He sung his merriest
songs. He told his funniest stories. He indulged himself in the highest
exhilaration which whiskey could induce.

As this holiday approached, Crockett was much troubled in finding that
his powder was nearly expended, and that he had none "to fire Christmas
guns." This seemed really to annoy him more than that he had none to
hunt with.

In the mean time, a brother-in-law had moved to that region, and had
reared his cabin at a distance of six miles f