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Updated: June 21, 2025
I have suffered myself to be politically sacrificed to save my country from ruin and disgrace; and if I am never again elected, I will have the gratification to know that I have done my duty. I may add, in the words of the man in the play, 'Crockett's occupation's gone." Two weeks after this he writes, "I confess the thorn still rankles, not so much on my own account as the nation's.
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." Conclusion. The Fortress of Alamo. Colonel Bowie. Bombardment of the Fort. Crockett's Journal. Sharpshooting. Fight outside of the Fort. Death of the Bee Hunter.
They would advance within a quarter of a mile of the cabin, tie their horses in the thickest of the brush, leave four men to guard them, then the rest would go forward to help the besieged. Crockett's eyes twinkled when the Panther announced the campaign in a few words. "Very good; very good," he said. "A steering committee could not have done better.
"Verna, if you really decided to get any living man he wouldn't stand a chance in the world," he declared. "If you've already made up your mind that I'm your meat, I'll come down like Davy Crockett's coon. But if either of us will do, that'll give us each a fifty-fifty chance to escape your toils. What say we play a game of freeze-out to decide it?" "Fine, Norman! When shall we play?"
And there, in the presence of Captain Mathews and his family, he argued his total unfitness to be the commander of a regiment. It is to be regretted that there was no reporter present to transmit to us that speech. It must have been a peculiar performance. It certainly added much to Crockett's reputation as an able man and an orator. When the election came, both father and son were badly beaten.
"In no one of his books does Mr. Crockett give us a brighter or more graphic picture of contemporary Scotch life than in 'Cleg Kelly. ... It is one of the great books." Boston Daily Advertiser. "One of the most successful of Mr. Crockett's works." Brooklyn Eagle. BOG-MYRTLE AND PEAT. Third edition.
It was that of the younger Urrea. At the last moment he had left the cavalry and joined in the assault. "Don't come within reach of his blows!" he cried. "Shoot him! Shoot him!" He snatched a double-barreled pistol from his own belt and fired twice straight at Crockett's breast. The great Tennesseean staggered, dropped his rifle and the flame died from his eyes.
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.
Witness: Farjeon's The Turn of the Screw; Bierce's The Damned Thing; Bulwer's A Strange Story; Cranford's Witch of Prague; Howells' The Shadow of a Dream; Winthrop's Cecil Dreeme; Grusot's Night Side of Nature; Crockett's Black Douglas; and The Red Axe, Francis' Lychgate Hall; Caine's The Shadow of a Crime; and countless other stories, traditions, tales, and legends, written and unwritten, that invite and receive a gracious hospitality on every hand.
About forty miles southeast from Crockett's cabin, in the heart of Madison County, was the thriving little settlement of Jackson. Crockett packed his skins on a horse, shouldered his rifle, and taking his hardy little son for a companion, set off there to barter his peltries for such articles of household use as he could convey back upon his horse.
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