Crockett roused himself at the summons, like the war-horse who snuffs the battle from afar.

"I wanted," he wrote, "a small taste of British fighting, and I supposed they would be there." His wife again entered her tearful remonstrance.

She pointed to her little children, in their lonely hut far away in the wilderness, remote from all neighborhood, and entreated the husband and the father not again to abandon them.

Rather unfeelingly he writes, "The entreaties of my wife were thrown in the way of my going, but all in vain; for I always had a way of just going ahead at whatever I had a mind to." Many who have perused this sketch thus far, may inquire, with some surprise, "What is it which has given this man such fame as is even national?
He certainly does not develop a very attractive character; and there is but little of the romance of chivalry thrown around his exploits.

The secret is probably to be found in the following considerations, the truth of which the continuation of this narrative will be continually unfolding." Without education, without refinement, without wealth or social position, or any special claims to personal beauty, he was entirely self-possessed and at home under all circumstances.