Dolph sat astride a tall horse and held three others by the bridles. Crockett climbed into the saddle of one and the boys mounted the others. Slowly they rode down the path to the trail, Captain Cumby walking at the side of Crockett. And when they reached the trail they drew rein.
“Well, Cumby,” said Davy Crockett, “I’ll bid you good-bye.” He spoke in a loud voice and leaned over in his saddle and shook the captain’s hand. “Texas is a long way off and war is mighty uncertain, so I don’t know if we’ll meet again or no.”
“Anyway, colonel,” said Cumby, “take care of yourself. Do all you can for Texas, but don’t forget to keep an eye out for yourself.”
“Good-bye, Captain Cumby,” said Walter Jordan, also shaking their host by the hand.
“Good-bye, youngster,” returned the captain, genially. “And you, too, boy,” to Ned. “Good luck to you.”
And so, with a call from Dolph to the captain, and a chorus of good-byes from all, they shook their reins and set off along the westward trail. A mile from the Cumby place Crockett said:
“Halt!”
They all drew up; the backwoodsman got down from his nag, and, stooping, laid his ear to the trail. Then he remounted once more, and the boys heard him laugh.
“They are coming,” said he. “I heard them pounding along at a good smart pace.”
For at least two miles further they kept to the trail, their horses going at an easy lope. Then at a word from Crockett they left it, and drew up in the deep shadows of a thick grove. Fifteen minutes later three horsemen appeared, their nags going at a sharp trot, and their voices lifted in conversation.