As David was pressing along this path he came to a little hamlet of log huts, where he found the brother whom he had left when he started from home eighteen months before with the drove of cattle.  He remained with him for two or three weeks, probably paying his expenses by farm labor and hunting.  Again he set out for home.  The evening twilight was darkening into night when he caught sight of his father’s humble cabin.  Several wagons were standing around, showing that there must be considerable company in the house.

With not a little embarrassment, he ventured in.  It was rather dark.  His mother and sisters were preparing supper at the immense fireside.  Quite a group of teamsters were scattered around the room, smoking their pipes, and telling their marvellous stories.  David, during his absence of two years, had grown, and changed considerably in personal appearance.  None of the family recognized him.  They generally supposed, as he had been absent so long, that he was dead.

David inquired if he could remain all night.  Being answered in the affirmative, he took a seat in a corner and remained perfectly silent, gazing upon the familiar scene, and watching the movements of his father, mother, and sisters.  At length supper was ready, and all took seats at the table.  As David came more into the light, one of his sisters, observing him, was struck with his resemblance to her lost brother.  Fixing her eyes upon him, she, in a moment, rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck, exclaiming, “Here is my brother David.”

Quite a scene ensued.  The returning prodigal was received with as much affection as could be expected in a family with such uncultivated hearts and such unrefined habits as were found in the cabin of John Crockett.  Even the stern old man forgot his hickory switch, and David, much to his relief, found that he should escape the long-dreaded whipping.  Many years after this, when David Crockett, to his own surprise, and that of the whole nation, found himself elevated to the position of one of our national legislators, he wrote: 

“But it will be a source of astonishment to many, who reflect that I am now a member of the American Congress, the most enlightened body of men in the world, that, at so advanced an age, the age of fifteen, I did not know the first letter in the book.”

By the laws and customs of our land, David was bound to obey his father and work for him until he was twenty-one years of age.  Until that time, whatever wages he might earn belonged to his father.  It is often an act of great generosity for a hard-working farmer to release a stout lad of eighteen or nineteen from this obligation, and “to give him,” as it is phrased, “his time.”

John Crockett owed a neighbor, Abraham Wilson, thirty-six dollars.  He told David that if he would work for Mr. Wilson until his wages paid that sum, he would then release him from all his obligations to his father, and his son might go free.  It was a shrewd bargain for the old man, for he had already learned that David was abundantly capable of taking care of himself, and that he would come and go when and where he pleased.