Farmer and trapper――Tall Grass and his boys――The blow-guns of the Chickasaws――Loony Joe――Little Warrior starts trouble, and punishment follows――Davy dreams of higher things――The Spanish at Pensacola aid the British and the hostile Indians――Hurricane Ned brings news from Alabama――The Red Sticks――The massacre at Fort Mims, and the call to arms――Davy becomes a scout under Jackson――Gets his dander up――The independence of the mountaineer volunteers. The year of 1811 was a busy one for Davy, who was then coming twenty-five. He was still boyish and rather awkward in some ways; but with the rifle, and in securing pelts of the most valuable sorts, he had few rivals. Shot-guns, or scatter-guns, were not much used in hunting. Powder and lead were the most precious of all the pioneer’s possessions, and nothing smaller than a wild turkey was considered worth the cost of a shot. For that reason, small game was always abundant and almost fearless in the presence of the hunter. One autumn morning Davy was talking with Tall Grass, a Chickasaw, who had two of his boys with him. They were from ten to twelve years old, and each carried a reed blow-gun nearly ten feet long. Davy had heard of these weapons of the Chickasaws, and he asked the boys to show him how they were used. They all started for the woods a mile away, where small game was plenty. In a swampy spot the logs lay here and there across the ground, as the result of a cyclone or wind-storm in the years gone by. In the Northern States such a place would be called a “windfall”; in Tennessee it was called a “harricane.” The boys went ahead, their reeds at tilt, like spearmen of feudal days. Each carried small darts, tipped with steel, with thistle-down tied at the opposite ends. A rabbit flashed from under a bush as they advanced, and stopped fifty feet away. The older boy slipped a dart into his reed, brought it to a steady aim, filled his lungs and cheeks, and put all his young strength into the puff that sent the twelve-inch arrow on its course. The rabbit leaped from its mound of moss, and fell struggling with the dart in its side. A partridge that perched in the limbs of a hickory came tumbling down when the younger boy tried his skill. With dignified pride, Tall Grass said to Davy: “Some day big chiefs!” The boys soon secured all the game they could carry, Tall Grass not offering his aid, and the party started to return. Suddenly a terrifying yell rang through the woods, startling the Indians until they saw a grin on Davy’s face. The noise of feet was heard, and there soon appeared what was intended to represent a warrior in full attire, with paint, turkey-feathers, bow and arrows, scalping-knife, and moccasins. As the strange creature came closer, the Indians saw that it was a white boy, evidently half-witted. He had trailed them all the way, and had sounded his war-cry in what seemed to him the fittest spot for dark and bloody deeds. Tall Grass gave him a disgusted glance and turned away.