The savages’ firm belief in the warrior’s demise set the borderer to wondering, however. What if Polcher had overtaken Tall Runner? It might easily have happened that the fleeing horseman had come upon Old Tassel’s messenger. And, had it happened, Sevier hadn’t the slightest doubt concerning the tavern-keeper’s readiness to slay the man and blame his death on Jonesboro. He suddenly decided that his life was most critically in the balance. “The soul of Tall Runner turns to nothing. It becomes blue,” chanted the warrior ahead, his voice taking on the intonation of a _shaman_. Sevier held his tongue, knowing his fight must be waged with Chief Watts. In silence the party passed up the bank for a mile and then crossed and struck into a well-beaten path and turned northwest. Another mile and they came to a village. The habitations were substantial log structures surrounding a council-house. Evidently it was a prosperous village, for hogs and fowls wandered about in large numbers, and many horses grazed on the outskirts. Gardens of beans and corn flourished between potato-fields and fields of squash. Along the edge of the clearing stretched peach orchards. Women engaged in basketry and pottery ceased their labours as Sevier was brought in, then pretended not to have seen him and bowed over their work. A little girl, carrying a milk-tooth by a string and intent on replacing it by the time-honoured custom of invoking dayi, the beaver, famous for his strong teeth, came running round a cabin. She shrilly cried out four times, “_Dayi skinta_” (“Beaver, put a new tooth in my jaw”) and completed the formula by throwing the tooth on the parental roof. Not seeing Sevier because of her excitement, she bumped into him as he leaped to the ground. Her terrified squeal was hushed as Chucky Jack caught her up and smiled into her little face. He patted her head and fished out a small trade mirror from his hunting-shirt and pressed it into her hand and earnestly assured: “The Gnawer will give you a new tooth very soon. Look in this each morning, and some morning you will see it.” With that he set her on her feet. She opened her mouth to bleat in fear but caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and smiled and decided there was nothing to be afraid of. Neither warrior nor squaw gave any sign of having noticed the little incident, but among the women looks were exchanged as the great borderer was conducted to the council-house. And more than one mother whispered in awe— “Tsan-usdi!” Ignoring the cane-benches, which were reserved for the head men, Sevier threw himself down on a bearskin and curtly demanded: “Where is John Watts? Do not keep me waiting.” Fear and respect dominated his captors, and the leader replied: “He will be here soon. A messenger has gone for him. He rode early this morning and should now be coming back.” “Do not keep me waiting,” Sevier repeated.