“Aniwaya!” joyfully hissed Sevier, creeping forward. “Man of the Wolf clan, where are you?”
A copper-coloured form rose almost at his elbow. The borderer recognized Bloody Mouth.
“Little John never knew the hunting-call of the Wolf could sound so sweet,” whispered Sevier.
“Tsan-usdi is chased by dogs,” growled Bloody Mouth, his eyes flaring with blood-lust. “I will stick my ax in their heads.”
Drawing the warrior back as the outlaws advanced, Sevier hurriedly asked:
“Where are the Cherokees? I want warriors.”
“You must travel till sundown to come up with them,” was the discouraging rejoinder.
“That will not do,” muttered Sevier. “Bloody Mouth will do as his brother says?”
“He will. By nightfall his wolf-call will bring many men of his clan. Then we will hunt down and break off the heads of Tsan-usdi’s enemies.”
“I can not wait. There is a white woman I must take north. Take my place and keep falling back. Wear my hat and hunting-shirt but do not let them see you if you can help it. If they do see you they will think you are Little John. Do not speak.”