“Alexander McGillivray, Emperor of the Creeks, I do not envy you your friend.” “So?” purred McGillivray. “You would wish me to call James Robertson ‘friend,’—the man whom I will drive from the Cumberland if my Creeks do not catch and burn him before he can escape.” Sevier laughed. “Your chances of burning, or even scaring, Jim Robertson are as good as mine are of becoming Emperor of the Creek Nation.” Then harshly, “This man Polcher is a murderer. He killed an old man in cold blood.” “Meaning he intended to kill him,” corrected McGillivray with ironical gentleness. “Just as you intended to kill the two white men back on the Great War-Path. Probably Red Hajason by this time is proclaiming you as a murderer. Polcher’s ‘cold-bloodedness’ proves he had a definite purpose. If he had slain without an object I would approve of his hanging. Polcher is very useful to me.” “He’s a low-down dog. His usefulness has helped you none in the settlements.” “That remains to be seen after Major Tonpit arrives. Doubtless you think I would do much better if I made friends with the Western settlers. They are a very pious people.” And the emperor threw back his head and laughed scornfully. “Let me see; it was eight years ago that some of your settlers at Wolf Hill in Virginia ran to their fort to escape an Indian attack. They discovered their minister of the Gospel had left his books in his cabin. Back they went, those pious men, and returned with the books—and eleven scalps. I am told that after a prayer service they hung the scalps over the fort gate.” Sevier flushed, for the emperor had recited facts. “The war between red and white has brought out much cruel hatred. Only with peace can kindlier feelings come.” “When the Legislature of South Carolina offered seventy-five pounds bounty for every warrior’s scalp I suppose the State was hungrily seeking a permanent peace.” “You should add that the Legislature offered even a greater bounty for the warrior alive,” coldly corrected Sevier. “After doing that you could talk till you’re white-headed, reviewing the horrible atrocities your Creeks have committed even during your civilized leadership.” McGillivray’s gaze became that of a basilisk. For more than a minute he glared at the man so thoroughly in his power. Next, with a startling transition, a most winning smile drove the sullen ferocity from his haughty features and he filled the glasses, reminding: “Such talk is useless. It makes bad friends. I confess cruelties are practised by the red men. But you didn’t come here to tell me that.” “I came to find Tonpit. As a side errand I desire to hang Polcher. And I also came as the result of a talk with Old Tassel.” “Old Tassel?” exclaimed McGillivray, spilling some of his wine. “I called on him at Great Hiwassee,” Sevier explained. “Great Hiwassee! Indeed!” “Before Old Tassel arrived I had a talk with John Watts.” “Good God! Are you sure you’re not a ghost? You talked with Watts and—”