The Indian remained silent for several minutes, then with a cunning gleam in his eyes continued: “I will carry your talk to Old Tassel. Who sends the talk? Tsan-usdi or North Carolina? Or does Tsan-usdi speak for North Carolina?” Sevier’s gaze hardened. He knew Old Tassel had learned of North Carolina’s act of cession. This would imply advance knowledge on the part of the chief. The messenger was sent with a colourless talk, his real errand being to learn how the settlers were reacting to the Cessions Act. In a voice of thunder he warned: “Brother of the Wolf, I am going to speak to you. Be wise and remember my words. Tell Old Tassel the talk comes from Little John and his three thousand riflemen. Tell him to forget that the settlements are no longer a part of North Carolina. Tell him he is to remember that the settlers never have had help from North Carolina and have always depended upon their own guns. Tell him our rifles shoot as straight and that our horses run as swiftly as they did a few moons ago. I will send for Old Tassel when I have my council talk ready.” Tall Runner was somewhat abashed but did not offer to depart. He remained silent and motionless, staring furtively at the one white man the Cherokee Nation feared above all other men. For three centuries the Cherokees had made wars and treaties with the English, the Spanish, the French, the Americans, with Creeks, Catawbas, Shawnees and Iroquois, but in all their campaigns they had never shown so much respect, or fear, for any one individual as they had for John Sevier. Sevier knew Tall Runner had something on his mind, something he had not intended to speak but was now tempted to divulge. Sternly, yet not unkindly, Sevier prompted: “My brother of the Wolf has seen something on his way here, or has heard something. He thought at first to bury it deep in his head. Now his medicine commands him to tell it. The ears of Tsan-usdi are open; his heart is open. Does the Tall Runner speak?” The Indian stood with eyes cast down as if irresolute; finally he lifted his head, succumbing to the personal magnetism of Sevier, a subtle influence that never failed to work on both friend and foe, and said: “It is not in the talk I brought from our peace town of Echota. It is something I saw on the Great War-Path very near here. A dead man of the Ani-Kusa.” Sevier’s hands gripped the edge of the table. “A warrior from the upper Creek towns,” he repeated. “He was a messenger,” was the laconic correction. The borderer fully appreciated the grave results sure to follow the slaying of a messenger from McGillivray, Emperor of the Creek Nation. One faint hope remained, that the Creek had fallen by the hand of a Cherokee. As if reading his thoughts, Tall Runner significantly added: