“Wait a bit. Alexander McGillivray is very much the gentleman. In case of an Indian war, the girl is safer with him than she is in Jonesboro. He won’t harm her. She remains his guest while her father carries out his end of the bargain. The messenger sent the writing to Tonpit through one of the tavern crowd—” “Hester!” “But, instead of turning and making tracks for home once the message was delivered, the Creek waited. He came stealthily and even avoided the Cherokee towns. Why should he invite discovery by hanging around on the edge of Jonesboro? Because he was waiting to guide Tonpit and the girl back to the Coosa River. I’ve been down and looked the ground over. He was killed while sitting in a clump of bushes. His slayer’s trail entered the woods from this settlement and then returned here. I followed it both ways until it was lost in the beaten path. Hubbard did it, all right.” Jackson then rapidly told of his meeting with Thatch, the quarrel between Hester and Polcher and the latter’s bargain for a Cherokee scalp and Thatch’s substitution of the Creek’s hair. Sevier heard him through in silence until he described the taking of the scalp. Then the borderer exclaimed aloud and cried— “That’s more important than the disappearance of the girl!” “John Sevier—” “No, no. Calm yourself! Miss Elsie will be safe in McGillivray’s town. But, if it’s known a peaceful Cherokee has been murdered, we’ll have Old Tassel’s three thousand savages joining with Watts without waiting for any help from the Creeks. That will be the chance McGillivray has been waiting for—and the Lord help the Watauga, the Holston and the French Broad and poor John Robertson down on the Cumberland!” “But no Cherokee will be missing, let alone be dead. It’s a Creek that furnishes the scalp,” reminded Jackson. “And we can’t afford to have the Creek’s murder known any better than we could a Cherokee’s,” cried Sevier. “McGillivray would never forgive the slaying of his messenger. The office is almost sacred. —— Hubbard for getting us into such a mess! Oh, why didn’t I examine the brush-pile when down there! I found it easy enough but thought it could wait till I had more time. Time? Every second fights against us!” “If Major Hubbard hadn’t killed the Creek, then Thatch would have wiped out a Cherokee. It’s six of one and half a dozen of the other.” “Not so. You would have stopped Thatch. But we’re wasting time. Make for the tavern. If Thatch isn’t in Polcher’s room in the back end toward the garden, he hasn’t arrived. You must hold him up and take the scalp from him.” “And you?” “I’m off to do what I should have done before—bury the Creek where none will find him. Report to me here. Remember what is at stake!” “I’m an American,” growled Jackson, snatching up his rifle and gliding from the room.