“Oh, for a few days of liberty and fifty of my riflemen!” groaned Sevier. Then came the wild, fantastic thought of calling on McGillivray and offering to go and bring the Tonpits to Little Talassee. He believed McGillivray would gladly take him at his word. He would object to the riflemen being employed but he would willingly furnish a hundred or more Creeks.
However, that would be playing McGillivray’s game, Spain’s game, the devil’s game. If Jackson could get back to the Nolichucky and arouse the men—the inspiration thumped against his mind like a blow. If only Jackson could escape and run the Creek and Cherokee gantlet! The Cherokees would be on the alert to prevent Chucky Jack’s return; Chief Watts would see to that. A man must need have wings to escape the ferocious dog-pack. Still such chances were created for men to take and laugh at. There could be no doubting the young Virginian’s zeal for the business; nor his woods cunning in putting it through.
Stepping to the book-shelf, Sevier tore a blank page from one of the volumes. On a table in the corner was a quill and a horn of ink; for McGillivray of the Creeks handled a quill as readily as did any of his white contemporaries and kept much writing material easily accessible. The borderer wrote a few hurried lines to Stetson, explaining his fears and exhorting the settler to raise enough men to make the raid a success.
He refrained from speaking of his own plight and simply said the raid on Red Hajason’s camp could be made without any fears of an Indian attack during the riflemen’s absence from Jonesboro. Sanding the note, he carefully examined the fan of knives on the wall and selected four of extra length, stout of haft and keen of edge.
This done, he extinguished the candle and returned to the window. The problem of the dogs remained. They ran in a pack and kept patrolling the edge of the extensive grounds. Sevier assumed from what McGillivray had said that he would not be attacked while inside the grounds. But to be discovered would be to spoil his plans. He leaned far out the window and looked and listened. The slave-quarters were on the other side of the house. The pack had gone in that direction when McGillivray dismissed it.
Slipping out the window, the borderer stole to the corner of the house and waited until he glimpsed a shadowy mass passing behind the slaves’ cabins. Then retracing his steps, he bowed low and ran swiftly, keeping to the shadows of the outbuildings as much as possible. The light was faint and barely sufficient for him to distinguish one cabin from another, but his sense of location carried him to the window with the iron bars. Gliding up to this, he whispered Jackson’s name.
“Who is it?” Jackson murmured, cautiously approaching the window.
“Sevier! Here are four knives and a message. Put two knives under your bed. I will remove the bar from the door. When you hear me whistle, look out and see if the dogs are making for the big house. If they are you must make for the corral and mount a horse and ride for your life. Give the message to Stetson. It orders him to raise some riflemen to go with you to the camp of Red Hajason, an outlaw. I believe you will find the Tonpits prisoners there. Take them back to Jonesboro and hold them even if you have to make Major Tonpit a prisoner. On no account is he to reach this place. The note explains all—”
“But you? Can’t you come with me?” pleaded Jackson.
“I must stay. I’ve given my word. Remember, when I whistle. If the dogs don’t come to me then you must decide for yourself how much risk you can take. Don’t try it unless you believe you can make it; as that wouldn’t help Miss Elsie any. To be caught by the dogs may mean death. Look out for the Cherokees if you get through. Good-bye.”