It was the spring of the year when David reached his father’s cabin.  He spent a part of the summer there.  The picture which David gives of his home is revolting in the extreme.  John Crockett, the tavern-keeper, had become intemperate, and he was profane and brutal.  But his son, never having seen any home much better, does not seem to have been aware that there were any different abodes upon earth.  Of David’s mother we know nothing.  She was probably a mere household drudge, crushed by an unfeeling husband, without sufficient sensibilities to have been aware of her degraded condition.

Several other cabins had risen in the vicinity of John Crockett’s.  A man came along, by the name of Kitchen, who undertook to open a school to teach the boys to read.  David went to school four days, but found it very difficult to master his letters.  He was a wiry little fellow, very athletic, and his nerves seemed made of steel.  When roused by anger, he was as fierce and reckless as a catamount.  A boy, much larger than himself, had offended him.  David decided not to attack him near the school-house, lest the master might separate them.

He therefore slipped out of school, just before it was dismissed, and running along the road, hid in a thicket, near which his victim would have to pass on his way home.  As the boy came unsuspectingly along, young Crockett, with the leap of a panther, sprang upon his back.  With tooth and nail he assailed him, biting, scratching, pounding, until the boy cried for mercy.

The next morning, David was afraid to go to school, apprehending the severe punishment he might get from the master.  He therefore left home as usual, but played truant, hiding himself in the woods all day.  He did the same the next morning, and so continued for several days.  At last the master sent word to John Crockett, inquiring why his son David no longer came to school.  The boy was called to an account, and the whole affair came out.

John Crockett had been drinking.  His eyes flashed fire.  He cut a stout hickory stick, and with oaths declared that he would give his boy an “eternal sight” worse whipping than the master would give him, unless he went directly back to school.  As the drunken father approached brandishing his stick, the boy ran, and in a direction opposite from that of the school-house.  The enraged father pursued, and the unnatural race continued for nearly a mile.  A slight turn in the road concealed the boy for a moment from the view of his pursuer, and he plunged into the forest and hid.  The father, with staggering gait, rushed along, but having lost sight of the boy, soon gave up the chase, and returned home.

This revolting spectacle, of such a father and such a son, over which one would think that angels might weep, only excited the derision of this strange boy.  It was what he had been accustomed to all his life.  He describes it in ludicrous terms, with the slang phrases which were ever dropping from his lips.  David knew that a terrible whipping awaited him should he go back to the cabin.