Once south of the Broad he traversed a land where Death stalked abreast of each passing minute and the husbandman worked with his rifle at his side and the children were taught not to stray from the cabin door. For this was the ragged edge of Western life, where the first threads would be unraveled should the red scourge essay to tear its way to the mountains. On the right of the Great War-Path were scattered the homes of the Holston folks, a tense, grim people waiting for what the next hour might bring them. Once below the rough parallelogram formed by the Watauga, the Holston and the Nolichucky, the horseman had left the settlements behind him and rode more circumspectly. The site of what was to be Knoxville would not receive its first visit from white men, James White and James Connor, for another three years. A tavern and a court-house marked the beginning of Greeneville. Below this “settled” area were a few “stations,” as the blockhouses were called, consisting of the usual stockade inclosing a few small cabins. Invariably these cases of civilization were girt about by the primeval forests. “Sevier rides alone!” was the word flashed from clearing to clearing on both sides of the Great Trail, and men wondered, and women called the children indoors and stoically awaited the result of the wild gallop. For Chucky Jack, their idol, was not given to racing into the wilderness unless spurred on by the imperative. At the Tellico crossing Sevier met a frightened hunter who said he had seen a white man, riding like mad. “Was there a girl with him?” asked Sevier. No; he was alone, it seemed. With a word of thanks Sevier warned: “Get back to the Broad! This country won’t be safe for any honest white man.” And with a prick of the spur he was darting away. At times he avoided small bands of Cherokees, but these were not overwatchful as none dreamed of a white man so far within their country. When near the Hiwassee, the borderer drew aside and sought a ford farther to the west of the regular crossing. River-crossings were the favourite haunts of those younger Cherokees who refused to heed the council of pacific elders. Now, too, each mile of the way brought Sevier that much nearer to the lower towns on the Tennessee, where the motley hordes of white refugees, Shawnee outcasts, Creeks fleeing tribal punishment, as well as turbulent Cherokees, held the towns of Nickajack, Crow Town, Long Island, Lookout Mountain and Running Water. Implacable hatred for the whites was the occasion of these villages, and from them radiated an atmosphere of hostility that no number of peace talks could soften.