The crudity of this gesture—to say nothing of the flagrant contempt it conveyed—was not to be endured; and, indeed, under less exigent circumstances, nothing could have prevented me from administering a severe physical chastisement to the lout, in spite of his formidable size (which approximated that of the biblical behemoth invoked in the story of Job). As it was, I was forced to satisfy myself with a sharp verbal rebuke.

“Though your churlish manner,” I declared, fixing him with a baneful glare, “no less than the coarseness of your mien, gives more than sufficient indication of your ungentlemanly breeding, I do not, at present, have the leisure to provide you with the lesson in civility that you so richly deserve. My errand concerning Colonel Crockett is of far too pressing a nature to permit of such a procedure.”

The ferocity of this admonition not only reduced its object to a stupefied silence but drew the attention of several of his neighbors, who turned to regard me with an expression of undisguised wonderment.

“What the hell did he say?” exclaimed one of these bystanders to the ill-bred wretch who was the object of my reproof.

“Damned if I know,” replied the latter. “Somethin’ ’bout Crockett.”

“So you’re a friend of Crockett, eh?” said the former, favoring me with an evil grin that disclosed a gaping hole originally occupied by his upper incisors. “Well, that’s one sumbitch who’s gonna wisht he never left Tennessee. Struttin’ around here like he’s cock of the roost. Well, ol’ Hansie’ll learn him. He’ll carve that peckerwood up like a Christmas goose.”

Before I could formulate a reply to this distasteful pronouncement, an excited din arose from the front of the crowd.

“The fun’s about to commence, boys!” exclaimed the toothless individual, as he and his fellows turned back towards the source of the uproar.

Perceiving that I was too late to avert an encounter between Crockett and Mrs. Macready’s ostensible assassin—and that, in any event, my efforts to squeeze through the tightly packed crowd were certain to fail—I resigned myself, for the moment, to the rôle of spectactor. From my present position at the rear of the throng, however, I could see little more than the crudely shingled roof of Neuendorf’s shanty and the very top of Crockett’s head.

Quickly gazing about in search of a more favorable vantage point, I spotted, not more than several yards away, a heterogeneous medley of boxes, barrels, casks, and kegs—the recently unloaded cargo of a newly arrived merchant vessel. One particular pile of wooden crates rose to a height of nearly ten feet.