“You admit he was slain?” hissed McGillivray. “Certainly. But not by Kirk Jackson, as this dog says. The scalp was taken to Polcher by an old man crazy with drink. The old man was to get a jug of whisky if he brought a Cherokee scalp—to Polcher.” “He lies. —— him! He lies!” gritted Polcher. McGillivray glanced from the flushed face to the composed one. Sevier coolly continued: “Your common sense will tell you there can be no question of veracity between me and your tool. The old man who took the scalp did not, however, kill the Creek. I am frank to admit that, although he was a tool of Polcher’s and did as Polcher commanded—as he believed.” “A Cherokee scalp,” mumbled McGillivray, his anger subsiding for the moment as he recognized the advantage to his cause had a Cherokee been killed and scalped by a Western settler. “He lies—” began Polcher, but Sevier came to his feet and grasped a decanter, warning— “You say that again and I shall brain you; no matter how much I dislike to make a scene in the home of McGillivray of the Creeks.” “Keep your mouth closed, Polcher, until I speak to you,” the emperor harshly commanded. “Sevier be seated—please. Now, Sevier, suppose you enlighten me as to what you know about this.” Sevier readily complied, omitting only the fact that he knew who had killed the messenger. “Jackson was in the bush and overheard Polcher’s bargain with the old man and came and told me about it. I directed him to waylay the old man and take the scalp from him. Polcher had demanded a Cherokee scalp for his whisky. The old man believed he had found a dead Cherokee, and he scalped him. Jackson believed the scalp belonged to a Cherokee; so did I until I saw it. I did not want any scalp to be paraded at the tavern, where Polcher and his men would make use of it in inflaming the Indians.” “But this Jackson fled! He didn’t wait for an investigation,” reminded McGillivray in an ominous voice. “If he had killed a Creek he scarcely would have fled here,” said Sevier. “He was being chased by a tavern mob. I was away from the village. He already knew the girl was to go to Little Talassee. He was crazy to overtake her. That was the true reason of his leaving Jonesboro in the night without even waiting to let me know where he was going.” “True, he would be a fool to come here after killing my man,” mused McGillivray. Then with fresh suspicion, “But how did he know the girl and her father were coming here?” Sevier was unwilling to implicate the girl. “From something he had learned,” he countered. “I can tell you exactly what he learned, and how, but not in the presence of this man.” “We still have the death of my Creek to clear up,” reminded McGillivray, scowling blackly. “This old man found the dead body and scalped it?” “Believing it was a Cherokee. And I went and buried the body so it could not be found and be made the cause of a border war,” Sevier replied.