In Texas with Davy Crockett

by John T. McIntyre

“But there were lots of them some years ago,” encouraged Mr. Burr.

“Heaps,” said Crockett. “I’ve been into the Tennessee wilderness where their tracks were pretty plenty. And there was good hunting, fresh meat to be smoked and salted away for winter, and furry pelts to keep out the cold of the ground when a fellow went to sleep. Yes, there was fine hunting, and lots of bears and panthers and deer and fur animals beyond counting, in the woods and along the streams.

“I remember once,” said he, continuing, “that I had a dream of a nigger; and when I dreamed of a nigger that always meant—bear! So off I sets with a couple of dogs, my rifle and a good horn of powder and plenty of ball. It’d been raining all the night before; then it had turned cold, and the rain changed to sleet.

“‘Good bear weather,’ says I to myself. ‘I ought to get a whopper.’

“The sleet was bad and stung my face almost to bleeding; but I thought of the bear that I was sure was waiting for me somewhere, and so I held on. But I’d tramped a half dozen miles and the only thing the dogs turned up was a flock of turkeys; I got a couple of big ones, and sat down on the end of a log to rest, for the tramp had played me out.

“But I hadn’t sat there long before I noticed that one of the dogs, an old hound, was acting rather excited. He was sniffing around as though he’d got scent of something. Then he put his nose in the air, and let out a yowl that brought me up with rifle ready.

“Off starts the hounds, and me after them. They seemed to have struck the trail of something and hung to it like good fellows. A couple of times they lost the scent, and I made up my mind each time that the varmint, whatever it was, had them licked; but they picked it up again and were off once more as good as ever.

“The woods were pretty thick,” proceeded Crockett, “and the two old hounds seemed to pull me through the worst of it; and with two big gobblers on my back, I had all I could do to keep up with them. But suddenly there was a sort of clearing—a natural one—and right there I saw the biggest black bear I’d ever seen in Tennessee!

“The hounds stood as close to him as they dared to go; the hair on their backs was standing as stiff as brushes; and they were yelping all the names at him that they could lay their tongues to.

“A black bear won’t pay much attention to hounds. But they are kind of shy of men being around—especially men with rifles in their hands. It may be that the daddy of all the bears has handed it down that a man with a rifle is a thing to be afraid of. Anyway, when this black fellow got sight of me, he turns to and breaks for a thicket which was close by. In after him went the hounds; and after the hounds went I. It was as dense a growth, that thicket, as any I’d ever seen, and I had to squirm through it; also it was hard to see far through the growth, and so I had to trust to the dogs to tell me when the bear was close at hand.”