------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XI SEVIER OFFERS THE RED AX Old Tassel wished he had remained at the Little Tennessee towns instead of coming to the country dominated by the war-spirit of the Chickamaugas. In particular did he regret his visit to Turkey Town, where messages from McGillivray poured in upon him and where he could not hide from the persuasive tongue of John Watts. As he was fond of reminding those who met him in council, he was an old man. When the pressure of the war-faction threatened to become irresistible he could only console himself with thinking that war might not come in his day. Now, here in Turkey Town, even this sorry consolation was denied him. Pacifist and diplomat, he had been overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of Watts and the insistence of Dragging Canoe. In seeking to temporize he had drifted unconsciously with the tide. Like one helpless in a dream-drama he now found himself in the council-house about to listen to the formal speeches which preceded the sacred rites of getting the eagle’s feathers, the shamans’ recital of the formula for those about to take the war-path, the going to water and the chewing of the charmed root. Even now he would have entered a protest and asked time to reconsider, but the Chickamauga chiefs had so cunningly hurried him along he found himself accepted as a war votary. Watts felt so secure that this day would see Cherokee and Creek enrolled in a common cause he did not hesitate to return to his warriors, who were waiting to pounce upon Sevier. The borderer’s escape from McGillivray’s hands would soon take on a tinge of the supernatural if the man were not caught. The runners, who had brought the news and the emperor’s request for co-operation, told of the slaughtered dogs. This feat alone was bound to make a tremendous sensation throughout the nation and redound mightily to Sevier’s reputation unless he were run down immediately. There was no doubt in either Cherokee or Creek minds as to Sevier’s hiding-place. It had to be in the narrow strip of territory between the two lines of smokes. Even had Watts felt uneasy to leave Old Tassel’s side the necessity of capturing Chucky Jack would have called him away. Already one refugee from the Creek country had passed the Cherokee lines—Kirk Jackson. The young Virginian’s successful flight escaped being a disgrace to the Cherokee Nation because he had penetrated deep into the country before the runners arrived with the news.