Turning away, he regained the trail and hastened back to the settlement. As he approached each cabin, he pulled forth the paper, hoping to find a lighted window outside of which he could pause and read his message. The settlers, however, retired early in the Watauga region, and each cabin was a squat, dark mass. But ahead there did gleam a light, a tiny beacon, and he knew Sevier was awaiting his return to the court-house.
He ran swiftly and noiselessly and without pausing to announce himself pushed open the door and jumped across the threshold. Sevier was seated at the table, his right elbow resting on it, his hand gripping a long pistol, the muzzle of which covered the door.
“You, Jackson!” he softly exclaimed, dropping the pistol. “You come as if the devil was after you.”
“There’s no one in the Tonpit house. She left a message for me, and I haven’t had a chance to read it,” panted Jackson, snatching up a candle and holding it close to the paper. Sevier watched his face closely and saw the dark features change from a frown of perplexity to a scowl of understanding.
“Read!” choked Jackson, restoring the candle to the table and dropping the note.
Sevier bowed over it and read—
Little Talassee.
“——!” gasped Jackson, wiping his wet face. “Little Talassee! Where McGillivray, Emperor of the Creeks, lives!”
The writing was a mere scrawl, as if the girl had but a moment.
“It was a surprise to her,” murmured Sevier. “She wasn’t prepared for it. They started immediately after her father gave the word. Of course he went with her. He isn’t entirely an idiot.”