Sevier glanced about to see whence came the new danger and at first thought the cabin was on fire. This fancy was instantly dispelled by the appearance of several torches round the corner, and before he could think to release Polcher and make a break for it a dozen Creek warriors had penned him in against the cabin. Polcher wrenched himself free and with a howl of rage leaped to an Indian and snatched an ax. “Stand back there, Polcher!” cried a clear, strong voice using faultless English. “What the devil do you mean by prowling ’round my gaol and raising a riot like this?” As the newcomer passed through the circle Sevier beheld a tall, slender figure of commanding carriage, and a dark, immovable face. The man was faultlessly dressed after the fashion of the seaboard cities. In his hand he carried a light riding-whip. And Sevier knew he had met Alexander McGillivray, Emperor of the Creeks. “What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you speak?” sharply demanded McGillivray. Polcher chuckled sardonically and pointed to Sevier leaning against the wall and informed: “You have another guest, your Majesty. He was trying to kill me.” “That is why you snapped your pistol in my ear before I saw you, I suppose,” dryly spoke up Sevier, now stepping forward to meet the emperor. McGillivray snatched a torch from one of the warriors and thrust the flame close to Sevier’s face. “And who the devil are you?” he curiously asked, his eyes twinkling in appreciation as they ranged up and down the lithe, upright figure. “John Sevier, of the Nolichucky, come all the way from Jonesboro to talk with you,” was the calm reply. “——! Nolichucky Jack? And here?” cried McGillivray, his French blood overwhelming his usual Indian taciturnity. “They call me that among other names,” modestly admitted Sevier. “Wishing to see you, I had to come here.” “Well, I admire your courage,” declared McGillivray, his dark eyes slightly bewildered. “Why were you fighting with Polcher?” “Because he snapped a pistol in my face and said he had me where he wanted me. Oh, I’d have jumped him anyway. He only happened to see me first. I’ve promised myself that some time I shall hang him for a murder he committed.” McGillivray’s black brows drew down. “Have a care, sir,” he curtly warned. “Alexander McGillivray is the only man who gives the law in the country of the Creeks.” “If you value your life you’ll string this man up now, while you have him!” Polcher fiercely broke in. McGillivray turned on him, and his voice had an edge as he warned: “Men who volunteer me advice usually regret it. As for valuing my life, it would be in no danger if Chucky Jack had all his riflemen at his back.” “That is true, sir,” warmly averred Sevier. “I know of no red wampum hanging between us.”