The brave grimaced; apparently he had no liking for the methods he had been forced to use.
“The courage of the warrior was no use,” said he. “So another way had to be thought of. I crept through their line with the skin of a hog drawn about me. It was not until I had cast it aside and stood upright that one of their sentinels saw me; and his arrow pierced my shoulder.”
“And yet you made your way here?” cried Frank, wonderingly.
Black Bear nodded, stoically.
“Yes,” said he, “to bring to the white chief the news that his friends of the Cherokee people are in danger.”
Within a very few minutes the two boys were seeking admission to the presence of the commander of the army. Upon being admitted, they found General Jackson seated at a roughly hewn table, writing in the light of a half dozen candles. He lifted his powerful face, now so drawn by long lines of suffering, and looked at them.
“What is it?” he asked, patiently enough. “The sentry says you have news of importance.”
Jack saluted and stepped forward.
“A messenger has just reached the Cherokee camp, general. He’s from the friendly town of Talladega, and carries the news that the place is besieged by the Creeks, and is in great danger.”
Instantly Jackson was upon his feet; the officers in the tent looked up alertly.