Polcher began to feel afraid of the imprisoned man. There was something so inexorable in the borderer’s low-pitched voice; it was more menacing than any raving in overtones. Sevier could not harm him—now. But let him get free and no obstacles could prevent him from reaching the man who had dared to utter the name of Bonnie Kate in his boasts. Retreating still farther from the white face at the window, the tavern-keeper selected three Creeks and ordered them to guard the cabin until he returned. Two of the men remained in front to watch the door and window, while the third guarded the rear, lest by some miracle Chucky Jack should break loose. Although the Creeks were thrown in contact with Sevier less often than their Northern brothers, his reputation had lost none in travelling South. That their emperor ranked him high was shown by the hospitality at the big house. The man Jackson had not been taken there. In spite of his taunts Polcher was far from satisfied with the situation. The feeling grew upon him that so long as Sevier lived so long would he have a Nemesis on his trail. To have Sevier a prisoner meant nothing. He had been a prisoner at the big house. The only difference in his status now was the change of quarters. Then, too, McGillivray might change his mind. His soul was not the red man’s, and he admired his captive. Should the Tonpits arrive and should the emperor decide his success was sure, it would be like him to release Chucky Jack and have him up to the house for wine and cakes again. Then the inevitable would happen—Chucky Jack would escape. And there was a deadly quality in Sevier’s last threat which inclined Polcher to great uneasiness. So the obsession grew up in his mind that neither the fate of Spain’s nor of McGillivray’s plans was so important to him as the knowledge that Sevier had breathed his last. “So long as he lives my neck is in danger,” he muttered. “—— him and his talk of the noose.” And he rubbed his neck nervously. “If I had a little more Cherokee in my veins I’d begin to think I was a fool to kill that eagle. Now if he was to die—but he is not to be harmed! He must be treated like a high and mighty gentleman, curse him—unless he breaks loose. Ah! There’s a thought. If some one would kindly help him get clear of the cabin where I could shoot him down or feed him to the dogs. It’s worth thinking about.” Only the more he meditated over the idea the more pronounced became the problem of securing a trustworthy tool. Even did he bribe a slave or Indian to unfasten the door to Sevier’s little prison there remained the risk of the accomplice being detected and telling the truth. In event of violated orders McGillivray would have the truth if he dragged out a man’s heart by the roots to get it.