He had tasted the Texan salt, he had broken bread with those faithful friends of his, the Panther and Obed White, and now he was at Santa Anna's right hand, seeking to destroy the Texans utterly.
"Looks as if I'd have a lot of use for Old Betsy," said a whimsical voice beside him.

"Somebody said when I started away from Tennessee that I'd have nothing to do with it, might as well leave my rifle at home.
But I 'low that Old Betsy is the most useful friend I could have just now." It was, of course, Davy Crockett who spoke.

He was as cool as a cake of ice.

Old Betsy rested in the hollow of his arm, the long barrel projecting several feet.

His raccoon skin cap was on the back of his head.