Polcher rose, and a smile twisted his evil face for a moment as he met Sevier’s eyes. Then the red man’s immobility returned, and he began:
“Tall Runner of the Wolf was killed in Jonesboro. I did not see him killed, but my white friends did. I did see his scalp in the court-house. It was placed on the table before Little John. I tried to get the scalp to bring to you, but Little John destroyed it.”
He sat down and indulged in another smile of hate as the line of warriors grunted in unison. Sevier addressed Watts and said:
“This man murdered an old white man. I have followed him here. Will you give him up, or must I come with my riflemen?”
Chief Watts smiled in keen enjoyment at the borderer’s boldness. His voice was low and almost gentle as he replied:
“Little John, Little John! Your white law does not reach here. A Cherokee has killed an old white man. What of it? It were better if he had killed a young white man. You ask if you shall come with your riflemen. If you can find them in the ever-darkening land, and your medicine will let you come back, we can not stop you. You have asked to see the man you hunted. He is here. He is one of your judges. Listen now to what this council shall decide.
“Brothers, it is said a Cherokee was killed in or near Jonesboro. What do we find?”
“A Cherokee was killed,” came the answer.
“It is said he is Tall Runner of the Wolf. What do we find?”
“Tall Runner was killed.”