“If he leaves me,” said Polly Ann, her eyes flashing, “that's an end to the bargain. He'll never find me more.”
Captain Sevier laughed again.
"There's spirit for you," he cried, slapping his whip against his boot.
At this another gentleman stood up, a younger counterpart of the first, only he towered higher and his shoulders were broader. He had a big-featured face, and pleasant eyes—that twinkled now—sunken in, with fleshy creases at the corners.
“Tom McChesney,” said he, “don't mind my father. If any man besides Logan can get inside the forts, you can. Do you remember me?”
“I reckon I do, Mr. Isaac Shelby,” said Tom, putting a big hand into Mr. Shelby's bigger one. “I reckon I won't soon forget how you stepped out of ranks and tuk command when the boys was runnin', and turned the tide.”
He looked like the man to step out of ranks and take command.
“Pish!” said Mr. Isaac Shelby, blushing like a girl; “where would I have been if you and Moore and Findley and the rest hadn't stood 'em off till we turned round?”
By this time the third gentleman had drawn my attention. Not by anything he said, for he remained silent, sitting with his dark brown head bent forward, quietly gazing at the scene from under his brows. The instant he spoke they turned towards him. He was perhaps forty, and broad-shouldered, not so tall as Mr. Sevier.
“Why do you go to Kaintuckee, McChesney?” he asked.