Sevier directed a sleepy smile at the tavern-keeper and remarked to the emperor:
“I’ve been thoroughly honest and above board with you. Suppose you ask your trusted agent to be the same.”
“You can’t make his Majesty believe I’m anything but honest with him,” defied Polcher.
“Ku!” grunted Sevier. “You killed a war-eagle out of season, Polcher. It has spoiled your medicine. The Great Crystal of the Cherokees would show you floating in blue shadows. Death is very close to you. Now tell the emperor why your friend Red Hajason went to Great Hiwassee and took with him the horses rode by Major Tonpit and his daughter when they departed from Jonesboro.”
Polcher was astounded. When he could master his tongue it was to give a shrill cry of alarm, and for a moment his smug mask of complacency slipped and revealed the stark terror in his soul.
“Lies! Lies!” he choked.
McGillivray was fairly bewildered by the unexpected revelation and glanced swiftly from the borderer to his henchman.
“Tonpit’s horses in Red Hajason’s hands,” he mumbled. Then fiercely, “Polcher, look at me! So. Eye to eye! What do you know about this?”
“Nothing! Nothing! The man lies!” Polcher’s frightened voice persisted.
McGillivray swung about and for nearly a minute searched the depths of Sevier’s steady blue eyes.