Polcher handed back the outlaw’s weapons and the two departed, Polcher bowing himself out in his best landlord’s manner, Red Hajason giving his back abruptly and shaking the table with his heavy tread.
“He doesn’t seem to have much respect for you,” remarked Sevier, smiling as he beheld the flare of anger flushing McGillivray’s face.
“The dog! The miserable dog! And he’s all white. Mark you that, Sevier! There is no Indian blood in him. He’s a completed product of your race.”
“Once I get back to the Nolichucky I hope to improve the race. We’ve weeded out quite a few of his kind,” Sevier lightly responded.
McGillivray tossed his pistols aside and left the table. Standing beside Sevier’s chair, he abruptly began:
“We’ve been making believe a bit. We’ve talked at cross-purposes. I’ve no more time to be polite. It’s business from now on. Will you give me your word not to try to escape if I allow you the freedom of Little Talassee?”
“No, sir!”
“Will you promise not to escape until after the Tonpits arrive?”
“No, sir! I propose to escape at the first opportunity.”
“But you came here to see them.”