“The blood had dried.”
“Five hours ago,” muttered Sevier. Then aloud, “How do you know the Creek brought a message for me?”
“Who else would he bring a talk to?” shrewdly countered Tall Runner. “He carried no arms. He was a messenger. His moccasins were worn through because of haste. He had not stopped at any of our villages to get new moccasins. His talk was for the white men. Little John is their chief.”
“And by this time the news of his death is spreading,” Sevier gloomily mused.
“I threw boughs on the body. It may not be seen if Tsan-usdi goes and covers it with earth. If others find it, the word will travel as far as a red ax or a war-belt can travel.” Which was equivalent to saying that McGillivray would surely learn of the killing and seize upon it as pretext for declaring war upon the settlements.
Sevier walked to the window and back. When he halted before the Cherokee, his countenance was placid, and his voice was gentle as he directed:
“Go to Old Tassel and tell him my talk. That I will meet him and his head men and give them a talk; that I wish only for peace and will hold back the whites from going farther on Cherokee lands unless an Indian war makes me use all my riflemen in defending our cabins.”
CHAPTER III
THE PRICE OF A JUG OF WHISKY
Finding himself overlooked, Jackson reminded: