“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.”
“Not so fast,” muttered McGillivray, staring at him meditatively. “I didn’t mean it that way. If there is no red wampum, neither is there any white wampum between us. You’ve come here without being asked. I’m not yet ready to smoke with you.”
“At least we could go inside and sit down and have a talk,” suggested Sevier.
“Why, certainly, we can do that. And some cakes and a glass of wine into the bargain,” laughed McGillivray. “My surprise at your coming made me forget my hospitality. Only remember, I did not ask you to bring a talk, and we shall talk without belts.”