Chapters (40)
- Cover Page
- Title Page
- Dedication
- HISTORICAL NOTE
- Part One
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- Part Two
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- Part Three
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- EPILOGUE
Snatching it from the latter’s hands, Crockett exclaimed: “Cumbersome? Why, I’ll be shot if that ain’t the most chuckleheaded, numskulled—”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” cried Mrs. Nicodemus. “Please—this is an evening for gaiety, not discord!”
After casting a final, venomous look at the Frenchman, Crockett turned to the widow and declared: “Danged if you ain’t right, Miz Nicodemus. You just go on and attend to your business, and don’t fret your purty head about a thing. Me and Poe’ll keep our eyes peeled. Why, with us two here, you’ll be as safe as a turtle with its head tucked into his shell.”
Offering his arm to Miss Mullany and motioning to Virginia and me with a tilt of his head, Crockett said: “C’mon, let’s get us some of them fine-looking vittles.” Then, leaning towards me and placing his mouth close to my left ear, he added sotto voce: “And some of that first-rate liquor, too. That thin-gutted frog-eater has got me feeling hotter than hoss radish!”
Striding towards the banquet-table with his flouncing companion at his side, Crockett secured a large delftware platter and commenced to fill it with a prodigious quantity of viands. Even before he had devoured a single forkful, however, he was surrounded by a group of voluble admirers who eagerly importuned him for a tale.
“Friends, I ain’t in no ways undisposed to oblige,” he replied. “Just give me a minute to stow away some of this-here grub. Blamed if I ain’t hungry enough to eat a whole buffalo and pick my teeth with its horns.”
While the frontiersman was thus engaged, Sissy and I—whose costumes had drawn marvelling stares from the other masqueraders as we strolled, arm-in-arm, across the floor—made our way down the length of the table, assisting ourselves to a large variety of refreshments, including—in my case—a brimming cup of rum punch; my thirst having been seriously exacerbated by both the warmth of the room and the nervous tension induced in me by Crockett’s near-altercation with the Frenchman. This beverage proving singularly refreshing, I quaffed the entire cupful in a single, protracted gulp and immediately refilled it before continuing to help myself to the assorted delicacies of the extensive buffet.