Sevier drummed the table and frowned. Then he explained:
“John Tonpit, according to all indications, holds the whip-hand over these scoundrels here. They serve him, I believe.”
“Good heavens!” Jackson weakly exclaimed. “Major Tonpit, proud to arrogance—having truck with those scoundrels?”
And he wondered if this were the girl’s reason for pronouncing his quest of her as hopeless. Then he rallied with the buoyancy of youth. If the only barrier between them was some sinister business of her father’s, he would overcome it, although great be her pride.
“Can’t you tell me something more definite?”
Sevier tapped a document on the table and replied:
“This is a petition I’m about to send to Governor Martin. North Carolina is dumping criminals and trash upon us, and we’re asking for a superior court to handle their cases. The Creeks, under Alexander McGillivray, are working day and night to get the Cherokees to join them in a decisive war against all settlers on the Watauga, the Holston and the French Broad. The petition asks for power to raise militia and for officers to lead the men.”
“But how does Major Tonpit come into this?” broke in Jackson. “Tavern brawlers and hostile red men!”
“I’m coming to that, if there is any that. The Creeks have made a secret treaty with Spain. McGillivray pledges twenty thousand warriors towards exterminating the Western settlements.”
“But you can’t know that for a fact.”