“The Creeks came here hotfoot on learning the Watauga settlements had been ceded to the central Government and are no longer under Carolina’s jurisdiction. Watts has struck a bargain with McGillivray,” Sevier quickly deduced.
Half an hour passed with the village remaining very quiet. Then sounded a slight confusion, and the prisoner knew Chief Watts had returned. The low murmur of voices suddenly ceased. The little girl wishing the new tooth shyly thrust her head through the door and invited the stranger to confidences and more gifts. A strong hand gently lifted her away; then Chief Watts, arrayed for hunting but carrying no weapons except the knife in his belt, entered the room, followed by a file of head men.
“I greet you, Little John,” he gravely saluted as he seated himself on a bench.
“You have kept me waiting,” rebuked Sevier.
Watts’ beady eyes flickered a tribute to Sevier’s nerve, and with ironical meekness he replied:
“I am sorry. As soon as I knew you were here, I came. What is your business so far inside the Cherokee country?”
“I seek a murderer, a white man. I have no time to waste. Three thousand riflemen will misunderstand my absence and come searching for me if I do not get back to them.”
The warriors fidgeted uneasily at this threat. Chief Watts’ visage became malignant, and he hissed—
“It would have been better for you if you had brought your riflemen with you.”
“It will be much worse for the Cherokee Nation if I do not return,” was the prompt reply.