He then crossed over, about four miles, to another stream.
Still no game appeared.

The storm was growing more violent, the sleet growing worse and worse.

Even the bears sought shelter from the pitiless wintry gale.

The bushes were all bent down with the ice which clung to their branches, and were so bound together that it was almost impossible for any one to force his way through them.
The ice upon the stream would bear Crockett's weight.

He followed it down a mile or two, when his dogs started up a large flock of turkeys.
He shot two of them.