“I can tell you for nothing,” said Sevier. “He went to McGillivray of the Creeks to bargain for your release. On returning he met Hester. They tried to kill me and then separated when I chased them. Hester ran into Elsie and shot her horse. Hajason by this time has connected with the gang. McGillivray offered Hajason two thousand pounds, gold, for the release of you and your daughter.” “Ha!” cried Tonpit, his eyes flashing. “Good friend! True friend! And by escaping we save him his gold. But how come you to know all this?” And the habitual air of suspicion lowered from his gaze. “I was in Little Talassee—his prisoner. I’ve just escaped. Polcher was there—” “Escaped from the Emperor of the Creeks!” exclaimed Tonpit, his tone implying an inclination to disbelieve the statement. Then hurriedly, “And Polcher? He helped to arrange for my ransom? He’s true-blue! He’s humble, but he has served me faithfully. I shall reward him.” “He’s—he has been rewarded, after a fashion,” said Sevier. “Major Tonpit, you might as well face the truth now as later. McGillivray’s game is played out. Old Tassel votes for peace. The Cherokees will not join with the Creeks. Without them McGillivray’s pledge of twenty thousand warriors is just ten thousand warriors short.” “I don’t believe it, sir!” Tonpit passionately cried. “McGillivray of the Creeks will be the saviour of the Western settlements! He has done me the honour of picking me—” He halted and frowned heavily at Sevier’s battered face. “I was forgetting that you’re on the other side; that you prefer bloodshed and bowing the knee to Pennsylvania and Massachusetts to a glorious freedom.” “Just now I prefer clearing out from here before Hester can bring the outlaws down upon us,” dryly retorted Sevier, pricking his horse up the trail. Tonpit wheeled his mount and would have struck to the south had not Sevier caught the bridle of the girl’s horse and led it beside his own. “Here, here, John Sevier!” Tonpit remonstrated, spurring after him. “We ride to the Coosa.” “You would be overtaken before sunset,” coolly replied Sevier, increasing the pace. “By this time Red Hajason is in command of his men. He knows you would ride in that direction.” “Where I ride is my business!” angrily cried Tonpit, now on the other side of his daughter and attempting to wrest the bridle from Chucky Jack’s grasp. “But, father, Mr. Sevier knows best,” pleaded the girl. “Is it a girl’s place to teach her father wisdom?” harshly rebuked Tonpit. “You can’t ride south,” quietly informed Sevier. “Your cause is lost, and I’ll be shot if you lose your daughter into the bargain.” “Release that bridle!” thundered Tonpit, now beside himself with rage. And he raised the pistol. The girl threw herself forward to block the bullet, and cried: “Shame, father! After what he has done for us! Better shoot me than him.”