The crowd rushed away. The dogs, however, had already been brought out and taken to the cabin. They had found the scent and were following it to the big house.
“You must stop them!” warned Sevier.
McGillivray thrust his head from the window and energetically repeated his command. The keepers could not understand why their terrible pets should be so keen to enter the master’s house, but McGillivray of the Creeks was not to be questioned and they began belabouring the animals and dragging them away. A servant came up, skirting the milling mass of struggling brutes, leading McGillivray’s favourite mount. The emperor groaned and muttered—
“I’d prefer you had taken all my horses rather than to take King.”
“He will be unharmed and you shall have him back, providing he is not torn by your pack or shot by your warriors,” comforted Sevier.
“Curse you, Sevier—”
“Go ahead. Curses never hurt any one yet,” encouraged Sevier as the emperor halted.
“It’s a foolish habit. I’ll wait,” mumbled the emperor.
“Send the servant away.”
McGillivray obeyed. By this time the dogs had been dragged to the southern limits of the village and the warriors were already scouting the trail that led to the gulf. Sevier made the emperor face the wall and with a sheet ripped from the bed tied his hands behind his back. Forcing him to be seated on the bed, he proceeded to secure his ankles. When he improvised a gag the royal prisoner opened his mouth to shout for assistance, but the pistol silenced him.