Sevier was still flushed with victory when Watts drew himself erect and smiled coldly on the borderer and in a mocking voice said:
“So be it. Woe to the Cherokee who breaks the law!” And he paused to dart a warning glance at the enraged tavern-keeper. “But listen, Little John; the law says you shall receive no hurt so long as you stay here. So long as you stay here.”
Sevier winced. Time was all precious. He must overtake the Tonpits and turn them back. The man’s mad ambitions unfitted him for cool-headed scheming, and it might result that his zeal would embarrass the cause of Spain. Yet, such as he was, he was essential in binding McGillivray to the Cherokees and to the white malcontents back in the Watauga country. Could he and the Emperor of the Creeks be kept apart? McGillivray’s formidable plans might easily go amiss, or at least be delayed until the border riflemen could prepare for the war.
Sevier appreciated Tonpit’s erratic nature and yet did not underestimate him. He came from a proud family. He was austere in personality but could surely gather a following among the recent arrivals over the mountains. Old-timers would stick by Sevier and blindly follow his lead. Many of the newcomers and the lawless element—the last as a unit—would huzza for Tonpit. The Indians only asked for two hostile factions among the settlers. Aided by the Creeks, they would side with Tonpit.
So Sevier had reason for dismay as he considered the trap he was in. Just so long as he remained within the limits of the town, all trails would be white and he would be treated courteously. Not even Polcher, now he had been taught his lesson, would raise a hand against him. But let him step over the line, and he became legitimate game for any ax.
Chief Watts gauged his thoughts correctly and motioned for Polcher to withdraw. After the tavern-keeper had departed, the chief with mock gravity said—
“My new brother, who has come to live with us, understands where he can walk and where he must not walk?”
“He understands,” was the cheerful reply. “As he is weary, he will be glad to rest here until the next Green Corn Dance wipes out the crime he never committed.”
“When new fire is given to take the place of the old, he will be free to go unharmed,” admitted Watts, well satisfied, to hold Sevier a prisoner until the corn was ready for harvesting, or about the middle of August. Watts believed the die would be cast inside of thirty days and that, without Sevier to stiffen their morale, the settlers would be conquered.
Watts was the last of the warriors to leave. At the door he called out a command, and a man handed him in Sevier’s rifle and a belt. Presenting these to the borderer, the chief gravely said: