“No. McGillivray has spies at the State capital. He knew ahead what the Legislature intended doing before the Cessions Act was passed. He knows he couldn’t swing me into line with Spain. Believing that the Watauga settlements are disowned and helpless, it’s the tavern crowd he’d dicker with.” “If Hubbard killed him, why didn’t he get the message?” “I haven’t any doubt as to Hubbard’s killing him. He went in that direction in time to meet the Creek. He left us with blood in his thoughts, cursing all Indians and believing the Chickamaugas are taking the war-path. He saw the Creek and shot him. He never bothered to approach the body, much less to examine it. Either the Creek had delivered the message or it was found on his body by some white man before Tall Runner came along.” “I saw Hester leave the tavern and go down the trail in that direction right after the messenger brought the news of the Cessions Act,” Jackson informed, his sense of duty overriding his disinclination to say anything that might compromise Tonpit. “Ah! Hester never quits the tavern unless it’s on important business. But none of that gang would kill a messenger sent them by McGillivray. It’s through him that Spanish gold comes to them. Do you know where Hester went?” Jackson was deeply embarrassed and felt himself slipping into deep water. “I don’t know, but I believe he visited John Tonpit. He was afoot and didn’t plan to go far. A short time afterward I saw him coming up the trail. I didn’t see him go to or come from Tonpit’s house.” “My boy, why not tell it all?” gravely encouraged Sevier. Jackson made his decision under the compelling gaze of the steady blue eyes and briefly related his meeting Miss Elsie and his knowledge that her father was closeted with a visitor. “That would explain much!” rapped out Sevier. “McGillivray sent a written message to Major Tonpit. The bearer managed to get it to the tavern. Polcher forwarded it to Tonpit by Hester. If the Creek had taken it direct to the major, he probably would now be alive. But the system is to send all messages to the tavern, where they are relayed without exciting suspicion. That Polcher is a deep one. He’s a natural conspirator. He loves underhanded methods. He must be an able man to hide his real self in the rôle of a tavern-keeper. “Tonpit couldn’t do that. He’s insanely ambitious. He must always have a dignified part to play. Useful at a certain point when his dignity fits in, such as influencing some of our settlers to follow his lead, but incapable of continual plotting. He’s just a fool figurehead. Yes, I’m convinced Polcher is the more dangerous man of the two.” Jackson hesitated and twisted nervously. His sympathies were entirely with the settlement. Although he had known Sevier for a few hours only, he was eager to serve him. Finally he blurted out: