“But the matter’s no joke,” said he. “They mean business, and will try in every way they know to prevent our carrying out your father’s plans.”
The name and fame of Davy Crockett, rifleman, bear hunter, backwoods philosopher, had traveled at that time into every corner of the United States. He was spoken of at every fireside, and his homely wisdom and basic honesty were admitted by all. Walter Jordan knew this, and as he sat gazing at the man, whose face was at once droll, shrewd and fearless in expression, an idea occurred to him.
“Here is a man,” he told himself, “who has put himself out of his way to be my friend. And he’s just the kind of a man whose advice would be worth following and whose help would be worth having in the adventure we are now started upon.”
He leaned over toward Ned, and whispered:
“Don’t you think it would be a good thing to tell Colonel Crockett about our affair, and hear what he has to say?”
“Good,” approved young Chandler at once. “Do it.”
So Walter turned toward the backwoodsman.
“Colonel Crockett,” said he, “if you have the time to listen, and are willing, I’d like to tell you the story.”
Crockett turned his shrewd eyes upon the boy and nodded.
“All right, youngster,” said he. “Go ahead.”