When the corn had started, Davy made his way back to Shoal Creek, and from there to Nashville to attend a special session of the Legislature. With his three dollars per diem in his pocket, he returned to the scene of his disasters, and as soon as possible started with all his family for the clearing on the Rutherford Fork of the Obion, where Harris was working out his own salvation with axe and fire, while keeping the “varments” out of the Crockett corn. It was some time in the fall of 1822 that the wearied family came in sight of the rude cabin that was to be their home. Most of them had tramped the one hundred and fifty miles across the trackless land, for upon the horses were loaded the household effects and wearing apparel that Davy still owned. The loom, the wooden trencher, spare clothing, table utensils, and a few rude dishes were about all that the pioneer thought necessary in these days, always excepting the priceless ammunition and the guns. The small clearing of six to eight acres that Davy had made, a quarter of a mile east of the Fork, could only partly feed so many mouths, and the task of supporting his family would have been desperate, had it not been for the supply of game that could always be counted upon. The river and the lakes were full of fish, and when the meat for the winter had been cured or salted down, there was always a good chance of getting more if needed. When Davy had harvested his crop of corn, in the last of October, 1822, he set out for the usual fall hunt. The buffalo had already disappeared from that vicinity, and he never saw one of these ponderous animals until he was on the way to the Alamo, in the last year of his life. Of all other wild “varments,” as he termed them, the woods were full.