“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?”