“The dead warrior was not scalped. He was shot by a white man hiding in ambush. I found where the white man kneeled and waited. I followed his trail back to the settlement. I found where his trail left the settlement and made for the woods.” There was no doubt in the minds of either Sevier or Jackson as to the identity of the assassin. Major Hubbard, his heart rankling with fanatical hatred for all red men, had left the village for the forest, taking the direction the Cherokee would cover on returning home. “When was the Creek killed?” quietly asked Sevier. “The blood had dried.” “Five hours ago,” muttered Sevier. Then aloud, “How do you know the Creek brought a message for me?” “Who else would he bring a talk to?” shrewdly countered Tall Runner. “He carried no arms. He was a messenger. His moccasins were worn through because of haste. He had not stopped at any of our villages to get new moccasins. His talk was for the white men. Little John is their chief.” “And by this time the news of his death is spreading,” Sevier gloomily mused. “I threw boughs on the body. It may not be seen if Tsan-usdi goes and covers it with earth. If others find it, the word will travel as far as a red ax or a war-belt can travel.” Which was equivalent to saying that McGillivray would surely learn of the killing and seize upon it as pretext for declaring war upon the settlements. Sevier walked to the window and back. When he halted before the Cherokee, his countenance was placid, and his voice was gentle as he directed: “Go to Old Tassel and tell him my talk. That I will meet him and his head men and give them a talk; that I wish only for peace and will hold back the whites from going farther on Cherokee lands unless an Indian war makes me use all my riflemen in defending our cabins.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER III THE PRICE OF A JUG OF WHISKY Finding himself overlooked, Jackson reminded: “I’m still here. If I’m in the way, I’ll get out. Of course I couldn’t help hearing your talk with the Cherokee.” “Don’t go,” Sevier replied. “I’m worried about the dead Creek. Tall Runner says he was an Ani-Kusa, from the upper towns. He brought a message from McGillivray. There was no writing on his body, or Tall Runner would have found it and brought it here. That makes two mysteries.” “I don’t understand,” Jackson confessed. “Two mysteries?” “Who was to receive McGillivray’s message? Who did receive the message?” “Isn’t it possible McGillivray is trying to treat with you; that some of the tavern crowd found it out and stole the message and killed the Indian?” Jackson put the query with much animation, the theory growing on him even as he spoke.