“You are?”
“The Jumper, of the Ani-Kawi.”
“A man of the Deer clan should know the trails. We will go on, Little Brother. Tell me when the white path turns red.”
“I will tell you,” grunted the Indian.
“Tell me where is the man called Polcher?”
“In the forest. Somewhere along the red path.”
Trotting ahead, the Jumper led the way for several miles, and yet Sevier could detect no signs of Cherokees in the rear. He said as much to the Jumper, who drew a half-circle in the air behind him, saying:
“They are from there to there. We shall not see them so long as we go toward the Coosa.”
“It is well,” said Sevier.
The Jumper raised a hand and then threw himself prostrate with his ear to the ground. Sevier quieted his restless horse and listened. He heard nothing. The Indian rose and informed: