were far in advance of his years.

"I called him up," writes Crockett, "but Major Gibson said he thought
he hadn't beard enough to please him; he wanted men, not boys. I must
confess I was a little nettled at this; for I know'd George Russel, and
I know'd there was no mistake in him; and I didn't think that courage
ought to be measured by the beard, for fear a goat would have the
preference over a man. I told the Major he was on the wrong scent; that
Russel could go as far as he could, and I must have him along. He saw I
was a little wrathy, and said I had the best chance of knowing, and
agreed that it should be as I wanted it."

The heroic little band, thirteen in number, well armed and well
mounted, set out early in the morning on their perilous enterprise.
They crossed the Tennessee River, and directing their steps south,
through a region almost entirely uninhabited by white men, journeyed
cautiously along, keeping themselves concealed as much as possible in
the fastnesses of the forest. They crossed the river, at what was
called Ditto's Landing, and advancing about seven miles beyond, found a
very secluded spot, one of nature's hiding-places, where they took up
their encampment for the night.

Here they chanced to come across a man by the name of John Haynes, who
for several years had been a trader among the Indians. He was
thoroughly acquainted with the whole region about to be traversed, and
consented to act as a guide. For the next day's march, instructed by
their guide, the party divided into two bands, following along two
obscure trails, which came together again after winding through the
wilderness a distance of about twenty miles. Major Gibson led a party
of seven, and David Crockett the other party of six.

The Cherokee Indians, a neighboring nation, powerful and warlike, were
not in alliance with the Creeks in this war. They were, at that time,
in general friendly to the whites. Many of their warriors were even
induced to join the whites and march under their banners. On each of
the trails that day to be passed over, there was the lodge of a
Cherokee Indian. Both of them were friendly. Each of the parties was to
collect all the information possible from these Indians, and then to
meet where the trails came together again.

When Crockett arrived at the wigwam of the Indian he met with a very
friendly reception. He also found there a half-breed Cherokee, by the
name of Jack Thompson. This man, of savage