“The West is ripe for the move.”
“The move will not be made.”
“You will have twenty thousand riflemen. I will pledge you twenty thousand Indians. You shall have supreme military command. Together we can laugh at Spain, oust her from the Mississippi and bury the ax so deep there shall be no more burning of cabins, or of prisoners at the stake. It will mean the absolute end of Indian warfare, and a prosperity such as men never dreamed of.”
“Once for all, McGillivray of the Creeks, I will form no alliance with Spain. I will work to establish no separate Government, as that would dismember the Union. There is one thing I will do, whether we create a new State or fail.”
“Well?”
“I will protect the Western settlements against the Indians, be they Creek or Cherokee.”
“By ——! You throw a red ax. Then this is the ax I hurl back to you,” snarled McGillivray. “My treaty with Spain will stand. I shall surely win over the Cherokees. The Chickasaws, who now cling to Robertson’s hand because of their chief’s friendship for him, shall join us or be stamped out. We will blot out the Western settlements. The Ohio and Northwestern tribes are eager to join us. If you remain alive to see the border cabins in flames you will remember the offer I made to you in all friendliness. Then will you decide whether you followed a straight or a crooked trail.”
“If it must be so,” sighed Sevier.
McGillivray tapped the bell and rose. Sevier also stood. The servant entered and made a low obeisance.
The Emperor of the Creeks stared moodily at the borderer, hospitality struggling against resentment. Almost sullenly he said: