“So you’ll bother Bonnie Kate, eh? You killed an eagle out of season. It spoiled your medicine. The noose, you know—” McGillivray of the Creeks stood in front of the big house when a muffled shot rang out. There followed no outcry, yet the shot was a sinister omen to the emperor’s moody train of thought. He could not locate the sound but believed it came from the direction of Sevier’s cabin. He walked in that direction until he met a warrior. Of him he asked— “Where is the man Polcher?” “He stands at the window of the cabin, talking with the white man,” answered the warrior. “I heard a gun shoot. I ran to look and found him. I spoke and asked him if anything was the matter. He didn’t speak. Just stood with his face against the bars. There were no other guards there.” Instantly suspicious that the tavern-keeper was planning to play him false, having been won over by the borderer’s magnetism, the emperor ordered: “Call the warriors and surround the cabin. Tell Polcher to come to me. If he refuses, bring him.” The warrior melted away in the darkness. He had scarcely departed when a figure broke through the gloom and McGillivray greeted: “I was just sending for you, Polcher. My men tell me you were guarding the cabin alone.” “Your messenger must travel far to find Polcher,” returned a well-known voice and Sevier, now standing by the emperor’s side, presented a pistol. “Polcher is dead. Died by the noose, as I said he must die.” McGillivray stood as one paralysed. Finally he choked out: “God! Is it possible!” “Take me into the house!” hissed Sevier as a loud yell broke up the evening calm. There came the patter of moccasined feet running swiftly. “Inside, quick!” Propelled by the prodding pistol, the emperor led the way into the house, panting: “—— you, Sevier! Polcher was right. I should have killed you! You bribed one of the Indians.” “With what?” growled Sevier. “A slave brought me my supper. Polcher killed him at my door. Then tried to shoot me through the window. The game was simple. I, dead, was to be dragged out. Polcher would claim the slave opened the door and that I killed him. Then he came up and killed me; that would have been his story. With a strip of your blanket round his throat he now stands dead, tied to the only iron bar in the window I did not remove. He was caught in his own trap. Take me to the room where I slept last night.” The pistol muzzle was all compelling, and, picking up a candle from the hall table, McGillivray with bad grace led the way into the apartment containing the collection of knives. “But you can’t escape!” exploded McGillivray, his bewilderment slowly passing. “I don’t imagine you plan to murder me. Even if you did, you couldn’t get clear of the village.” “McGillivray of the Creeks, it’s a chance for me to escape or your life,” sternly admonished Sevier. “Do as I say and you live, although it may mean my recapture. Try any tricks and you’re a dead man as surely as Polcher is a dead man.”