Polcher’s confidence and enthusiasm invigorated McGillivray’s spirits and his sombre countenance lightened.
“You have done well, Polcher. I think we shall bag the young man yet.”
He walked toward the house with more confidence in his step, but on second thought halted and called after Polcher, who was leading his horse away—
“One word more, Polcher: how far will my Creeks go?”
“Until they get him,” was the laconic answer.
“I’m afraid that won’t do. The Cherokees might not understand. They may think I’m riding rough-shod over their land,” McGillivray worried.
“Not at all, your Majesty,” hastily reassured Polcher. “The messengers I sent are intelligent fellows. They will explain the situation fully to John Watts. He will welcome any aid that will stop the man from getting back to the Watauga settlements. It’s as much his game as it is ours.”
“We’ll hope so. But after I’ve eaten I think I will send a talk to Watts and Old Tassel to make sure they understand.”
“If your Majesty please, I’m sure Watts will be in hot pursuit of the man before your talk can reach Great Hiwassee. As for Old Tassel, I didn’t think it wise to have the messengers see him. He’s weak. The less he knows about things the better it will be. Time enough to explain to him after we’ve caught our man.”
McGillivray frowned a bit, inclined to disfavour any risk of arousing the Cherokees’ resentment, but accepted the advice by nodding his head and waving his hand in dismissal.