David, then thirteen years of age, hoping tremblingly that time
enough had elapsed to save him from a whipping, turned his thoughts
homeward. A brother of the drover was about to return on horseback.
David decided to accompany him, thinking that the man would permit
him to ride a part of the way.

Much to his disgust, the man preferred to ride himself. The horse
was his own. David had no claim to it whatever. He was therefore
left to trudge along on foot. Thus he journeyed for three days. He
then made an excuse for stopping a little while, leaving his
companion to go on alone. He was very careful not again to overtake
him. The boy had then, with four dollars in his pocket, a foot
journey before him of between three and four hundred miles. And this
was to be taken through desolate regions of morass and forest,
where, not unfrequently, the lurking Indian had tomahawked, or gangs
of half-famished wolves had devoured the passing traveller. He was
also liable, at any time, to be caught by night and storm, without
any shelter.

As he was sauntering along slowly, that he might be sure and not
overtake his undesirable companion, he met a wagoner coming from
Greenville, in Tennessee, and bound for Gerardstown, Berkeley
County, in the extreme northerly part of Virginia. His route lay
directly over the road which David had traversed. The man's name was
Adam Myers. He was a jovial fellow, and at once won the heart of the
vagrant boy. David soon entered into a bargain with Myers, and
turned back with him. The state of mind in which the boy was may be
inferred from the following extract taken from his autobiography. I
omit the profanity, which was ever sprinkled through all his
utterances: