Crockett, breathless and bleeding, but signally a victor, took quiet possession of the treetop, the conquest of which he had so valiantly achieved.  He parted some of the branches, cut away others, and intertwining the softer twigs, something like a bird’s nest, made for himself a very comfortable bed.  There was an abundance of moss, dry, pliant, and crispy, hanging in festoons from the trees.  This, spread in thick folds over his litter, made as luxuriant a mattress as one could desire.  His horse-blanket being laid down upon this, the weary traveller, with serene skies above him and a gentle breeze breathing through his bower, had no cause to envy the occupant of the most luxurious chamber wealth can furnish.

He speedily prepared for himself a frugal supper, carried his saddle into the treetop, and, though oppressed with anxiety in view of the prospect before him, fell asleep, and in blissful unconsciousness the hours passed away until the sun was rising in the morning.  Upon awaking, he felt very stiff and sore from the wounds he had received in his conflict with the cougar.  Looking over the bank, he saw the dead body of the cougar lying there, and felt that he had much cause of gratitude that he had escaped so great a danger.

He then began to look around for his horse.  But the animal was nowhere to be seen.  He ascended one of the gentle swells of land, whence he could look far and wide over the unobstructed prairie.  To his surprise, and not a little to his costernation, the animal had disappeared, “without leaving trace of hair or hide.”  At first he thought the mustang must have been devoured by wolves or some other beasts of prey.  But then it was manifest they could not have eaten his bones, and something would have remained to indicate the fate of the poor creature.  While thus perplexed, Crockett reflected sadly that he was lost, alone and on foot, on the boundless prairie.  He was, however, too much accustomed to scenes of the wildest adventure to allow himself to be much cast down.  His appetite was not disturbed, and he began to feel the cravings of hunger.

He took his rifle and stepped out in search of his breakfast.  He had gone but a short distance ere he saw a large flock of wild geese, on the bank of the river.  Selecting a large fat gander, he shot him, soon stripped him of his feathers, built a fire, ran a stick through the goose for a spit, and then, supporting it on two sticks with prongs, roasted his savory viand in the most approved style.  He had a little tin cup with him, and a paper of ground coffee, with which he made a cup of that most refreshing beverage.  Thus he breakfasted sumptuously.