“Call the warriors and surround the cabin. Tell Polcher to come to me. If he refuses, bring him.”
The warrior melted away in the darkness. He had scarcely departed when a figure broke through the gloom and McGillivray greeted:
“I was just sending for you, Polcher. My men tell me you were guarding the cabin alone.”
“Your messenger must travel far to find Polcher,” returned a well-known voice and Sevier, now standing by the emperor’s side, presented a pistol. “Polcher is dead. Died by the noose, as I said he must die.”
McGillivray stood as one paralysed. Finally he choked out:
“God! Is it possible!”
“Take me into the house!” hissed Sevier as a loud yell broke up the evening calm. There came the patter of moccasined feet running swiftly. “Inside, quick!”
Propelled by the prodding pistol, the emperor led the way into the house, panting:
“—— you, Sevier! Polcher was right. I should have killed you! You bribed one of the Indians.”
“With what?” growled Sevier. “A slave brought me my supper. Polcher killed him at my door. Then tried to shoot me through the window. The game was simple. I, dead, was to be dragged out. Polcher would claim the slave opened the door and that I killed him. Then he came up and killed me; that would have been his story. With a strip of your blanket round his throat he now stands dead, tied to the only iron bar in the window I did not remove. He was caught in his own trap. Take me to the room where I slept last night.”