TONPIT CHANGES HIS PLANS
“Chucky Jack!” Hester dully exclaimed.
“Drop your gun.”
The bully’s readiness to obey convinced Sevier the weapon had not been
reloaded since discharged at the girl’s horse. The borderer glided to
the girl and kneeled at her side. She breathed. The borderer started to
rise, and Hester pulled an ax from the back of his belt and hurled it.
Sevier ducked and raised his rifle. The ax smashed against the barrel
and knocked it from his grasp. Believing he had Chucky Jack at a great
disadvantage, Hester leaped forward, his hands outstretched, his
diabolical fingers crooked to claw his opponent’s eyes. Like a cornered
rat he knew he must fight as he had never fought before.
To save the girl from being trampled upon Sevier stepped over her body
without pausing to pick up his rifle. The two crashed together within a
few feet of the silent form. Still having the girl in mind, the
borderer exerted all his energies to force Hester back. The bully was
quick to realize that so long as there was danger of their falling on,
or stepping on, the girl Sevier would fight defensively, postponing any
attempt to use either of the long knives in his belt.
Sevier had not forgotten his weapons, but as Hester was unarmed he was
quite willing to meet him barehanded and make him a prisoner. Hester
bulked larger than the borderer and had made man-maiming a study.
He grunted in relief as Sevier clinched and made no effort to draw a
knife. The bully blessed his luck for relegating the contest to the
plane of sheer brutality.
“I’ve always hankered to git a chance at ye,” he panted, clawing at
Sevier’s eyes.
Sevier ducked back his head and struck upward, a short-arm jolt, the
heel of his palm catching the bully under the nose and eliciting a howl
of pain. Fighting to spare the girl, Sevier manœuvred his antagonist
back a dozen feet. Then he flashed a smile of relief into Hester’s
distorted face and the bully’s moral fibre began to weaken. The fact
that Chucky Jack had accomplished his first objective was an earnest of
a second victory. Hester redoubled his ferocious efforts.
Sevier played back right willingly, his slim form giving and resisting
with the supple strength of a steel spring. Hester’s eyes grew a bit
worried. In Jonesboro he had often told his cronies that Chucky Jack
was allowed to have his own way because of his prowess as a rifleman,
and that in a man-to-man contest he would soon lose his fighting
reputation. In drunken confidences at the tavern he had also gone on
record as asking nothing better than to be turned loose in a fight with
Sevier, each man armed only with his hands.
Now that these ideal conditions were afforded him he discovered he was
not making any headway. Repeatedly he essayed his _coup de maitre_, a
play for the eyes, and each time he failed by the edge of a second and
received terrific punishment in return. His long, pointed nails
scratched the borderer’s forehead and furrowed his face, but they could
not extinguish the blaze in the deadly blue orbs.
He shifted his tactics and endeavoured to use his feet and knees, but
instantly the borderer pressed close until there was not enough room
for delivering a telling kick, or for a drive of the knee.
“Any more tricks you haven’t tried?” murmured Sevier, viciously
plunging his knuckles into the front of the red throat.
Coughing and gasping, Hester faintly cried out a blasphemy and feared
he was being mastered at his own game. He now knew Sevier could have
blinded him a dozen times had he so desired. A terrible fear of the
slim fighter began to smother his rage. Judging Chucky Jack by his own
standards, he fully expected that when the borderer had wearied of
playing with him he would destroy his sight and leave him to find a
hideous death in the forest. For that was the death he had planned for
Sevier, and he could not imagine a man foregoing the pleasure once he
secured the advantage.
The two knives in Sevier’s belt hung just back of the hips to be out of
the way while riding. They were long, terrible weapons. Hester believed
Sevier could have used these at the beginning of the fray and had
refrained for the greater joy of blinding his foe. He could not know
that Sevier had fought with his hands in order to take a prisoner, and
that once the borderer was committed to this style of battle he had all
he could do to protect his eyesight and dared not leave his face
unprotected while he fished for a knife.
And Sevier smiled as he blocked each attempt, but he was more keenly
concerned than Hester imagined. Suddenly the bully butted his head and
at the same time wrenched a hand free and plunged it to the borderer’s
belt. Sevier bowed his head and received the blow on his forehead, the
two skulls crashing together with sickening force. For a second the
borderer’s head swam; in the next he had struck Hester’s hand to one
side, but not before the bully’s long fingers had gripped a knife.
“Now!” yelled Hester, stabbing joyously.
“And now!” replied Sevier, avoiding the thrust and pulling the second
knife. “I like this much better.”
Hester was surprised at the expression of relief on Chucky Jack’s face.
“Ye was skeered of my hands?” he grunted, thrusting tentatively.
“I was afraid,” confessed Sevier, stepping to one side and forcing him
toward the bushes. “Just as I’m afraid of a mad-wolf’s bite. But this
is clean sport. I like it.”
Hester believed him and woefully regretted his shift to the knives. But
he grew optimistic as he observed Sevier kept darting glances about, a
dangerous practice for a knife-fighter, and exulted:
“Gittin’ sick, eh? Tryin’ to find a chance to sneak out, eh?”
“Hardly that,” corrected Sevier, scoring him in the forearm. “I had
planned to take you alive. Now I’ve decided to kill you; and as Miss
Tonpit is recovering her senses I’m just looking for a place where you
can die without disturbing her.”
As he spoke he thrust and slashed and drove the bully back to the
fringe of bushes.
Hester’s face glistened with sweat. Did he dare shift his gaze aside,
he believed he would behold cowled Death waiting for him. Then there
rang a long-drawn cry that caused the combatants to throw up their
heads and for a moment to neglect their grim business.
“Elsie-e-e! Oh, Elsie-e-e!” called the voice, and Sevier heard the girl
stir behind him.
For a moment the borderer relaxed the pressure of his attack, and with
a loud yell Hester leaped backward and threw his knife and jumped into
the bushes. The knife, thrown blindly, landed haft first between
Sevier’s eyes and confused him for a second. Before he could pursue the
bully the girl’s name was shouted again, and the girl, now on her
knees, faintly answered:
“This way, father! Come to me!”
Sevier hesitated. He could hear his antagonist crashing away in frantic
flight and he knew he could easily overtake him. But close at hand
Major Tonpit was loudly calling, and the girl could not be left alone.
Now she was on her feet and staring at him wildly.
“Who are you with a knife in your hand?” she whispered.
He advanced and with a little scream of terror she drew back, not
recognizing him because of his disordered garments, his scratched and
soiled countenance.
“You’ve forgotten John Sevier?” he asked.
With a glad cry she ran to him and clutched his arm and stared about in
search of Hester.
“He’s run away, Miss Elsie,” Sevier soothed. “He won’t bother you any
more. And your father is coming.”
“Father escaped from them!” she rejoiced, and lifting her voice she
called to him.
Sevier picked up his rifle and examined the priming, then loaded
Hester’s gun. Securing Hester’s horse he swung Elsie into the saddle
and led the way back to his own mount, cautioning:
“Don’t call again. I can find him. If the outlaws are following him
he’ll bring them down on us. Hester will set them on our trail soon
enough without any help from us.”
Tonpit’s voice rang out again, this time impatiently, for he had heard
his daughter’s voice and knew she must be safe. Motioning her to be
silent, Sevier gave a soft whistle. A horse crashed through the
undergrowth and Tonpit was imperiously demanding:
“Where are you, Elsie? I’ve been horribly frightened.”
“This way, father,” she softly answered. “And not so loud, dear. Those
men will hear us.”
“There are two of them who won’t hear anything this side of the Last
Trump,” he hoarsely assured, spurring his mount into the trail. On
catching sight of Sevier, he levelled the pistol he was holding and
snapped it.
“Father!” groaned the horrified girl. “It’s Mr. Sevier, father.”
Tonpit leaned forward over his horse’s neck and blinked at the borderer.
“Then what the devil is he doing here with that scum?” he fiercely
demanded.
“He just saved me from Hester. Mr. Sevier is my friend,” she gently
reminded.
“Friend? We shall see,” was the grim reply. “If he is our friend he
will guide us to the trail that runs south.”
“You ride where?” asked Sevier, mounting his horse.
“To the Coosa River. And time is precious,” snapped Tonpit.
“You’ve been held prisoners by Red Hajason?” Sevier asked.
Tonpit nodded gloomily; then with a streak of suspicion he asked:
“How did you know about it? Has my daughter told you?”
“I’ve had no time to talk with your daughter,” Sevier coldly replied.
“I found her unconscious from a fall from her horse. Hester was with
her, and I was on the point of killing him when your call disturbed the
balance of battle long enough for him to escape.”
“Then I’m —— sorry I called,” growled Tonpit. “But Hester said you
killed the Indian, who was to be my guide.”
“He lied,” Sevier calmly retorted.
“He came in the Indian’s place,” continued Tonpit. “But he took us to
Red Hajason’s camp instead of to the Coosa. We’ve been held prisoners
ever since. Then Hajason went away, and I got two horses and Elsie and
I rode for it, followed by the band. We threw them off the trail
yesterday, but when we broke camp this morning several of them jumped
us. She rode ahead while I fought them off. I shot two and got away,
but, lost her. That’s all there is to tell, except I’d give a thousand
pounds to know what Hajason is up to.”
“I can tell you for nothing,” said Sevier. “He went to McGillivray of
the Creeks to bargain for your release. On returning he met Hester.
They tried to kill me and then separated when I chased them. Hester ran
into Elsie and shot her horse. Hajason by this time has connected with
the gang. McGillivray offered Hajason two thousand pounds, gold, for
the release of you and your daughter.”
“Ha!” cried Tonpit, his eyes flashing. “Good friend! True friend! And
by escaping we save him his gold. But how come you to know all this?”
And the habitual air of suspicion lowered from his gaze.
“I was in Little Talassee—his prisoner. I’ve just escaped. Polcher was
there—”
“Escaped from the Emperor of the Creeks!” exclaimed Tonpit, his tone
implying an inclination to disbelieve the statement. Then hurriedly,
“And Polcher? He helped to arrange for my ransom? He’s true-blue! He’s
humble, but he has served me faithfully. I shall reward him.”
“He’s—he has been rewarded, after a fashion,” said Sevier. “Major
Tonpit, you might as well face the truth now as later. McGillivray’s
game is played out. Old Tassel votes for peace. The Cherokees will not
join with the Creeks. Without them McGillivray’s pledge of twenty
thousand warriors is just ten thousand warriors short.”
“I don’t believe it, sir!” Tonpit passionately cried. “McGillivray of
the Creeks will be the saviour of the Western settlements! He has done
me the honour of picking me—” He halted and frowned heavily at Sevier’s
battered face. “I was forgetting that you’re on the other side; that
you prefer bloodshed and bowing the knee to Pennsylvania and
Massachusetts to a glorious freedom.”
“Just now I prefer clearing out from here before Hester can bring the
outlaws down upon us,” dryly retorted Sevier, pricking his horse up the
trail.
Tonpit wheeled his mount and would have struck to the south had not
Sevier caught the bridle of the girl’s horse and led it beside his own.
“Here, here, John Sevier!” Tonpit remonstrated, spurring after him. “We
ride to the Coosa.”
“You would be overtaken before sunset,” coolly replied Sevier,
increasing the pace. “By this time Red Hajason is in command of his
men. He knows you would ride in that direction.”
“Where I ride is my business!” angrily cried Tonpit, now on the other
side of his daughter and attempting to wrest the bridle from Chucky
Jack’s grasp.
“But, father, Mr. Sevier knows best,” pleaded the girl.
“Is it a girl’s place to teach her father wisdom?” harshly rebuked
Tonpit.
“You can’t ride south,” quietly informed Sevier. “Your cause is lost,
and I’ll be shot if you lose your daughter into the bargain.”
“Release that bridle!” thundered Tonpit, now beside himself with rage.
And he raised the pistol. The girl threw herself forward to block the
bullet, and cried:
“Shame, father! After what he has done for us! Better shoot me than
him.”
Tonpit sagged back aghast. A second more and he had pulled the trigger,
for his mind was curiously warped and his imprisonment had rendered him
irresponsible. To relieve the scene of its tragic atmosphere, Sevier
advised:
“You’d better load that pistol. We may need it soon. You’ve tried once
to shoot me with it.”
Tonpit’s cold face flushed and he mumbled:
“I was hasty. I apologize; I will reload it. Then my daughter and I
will ride south.”
“The trail south is open to you, but the girl rides north,” Sevier
calmly informed.
Tonpit’s eyes glowed wolfishly and without a word he began reloading
the weapon. The girl knew the climax would come the moment he finished
his task, and to Sevier she pleaded:
“You mean well, but after all my place is by my father’s side. I thank
you for what you’ve done. Now let us part good friends.”
“Your place is not in Little Talassee, where they plot to cut up the
Union,” was the firm response. “Your place is where Americanism
thrives, in the settlements, or in the cities over the mountains. Never
where McGillivray plots with Spain.”
“Mr. Sevier, I will shoot you if you persist in your interference,”
Tonpit announced.
“Then you will be a murderer and your daughter will refuse to ride with
you,” cheerfully countered Sevier. “If my death will restore the young
woman to the American settlements, why, I shall not have died for
nothing.”
“Put up your pistol, father,” commanded the girl. “If you do Mr. Sevier
any harm I shall ride north alone.”
Tonpit’s face became ghastly as he heard her ultimatum and caught a
reflection of his own stubborn will in her young face.
“You’ve tricked me, Sevier,” he whispered. “But there’ll be a reckoning
between us—”
“Hush!” cried the girl, placing her fingers against his lips.
Sevier tilted his head and meeting her questioning gaze nodded gravely.
“What is it now?” growled Tonpit.
“They’re after us, the whole gang,” informed Sevier. “Had you started
south you would be prisoners by this time. They’re on our trail and
we’ve no time for talk. Keep at my heels.”
He spurred ahead with the girl and Tonpit raced after him. Loud yells
from behind advertised their discovery by the outlaws. Rifles were
fired, but without aim, as none of the lead came near them. Sevier
twisted his head and motioned for Tonpit to ride beside him while the
girl led the way. As Tonpit drew up the borderer informed:
“We can’t outride them. Your girl is played out. A few miles ahead
there is a cave near the trail where we can hide. Once there one of us
can stand them off until the other gets help.”
“Get help? Who is there to help us in this cursed country?” groaned
Tonpit.
“The Cherokees,” said Sevier. “Because of my talk with Old Tassel they
will send men. Did McGillivray have his way the Cherokees would now be
at war with the settlements and be among those hunting us. You’ve lost
a chance to be Spain’s governor in the new world, but we’ll save the
girl.”
“Let us get to the cave,” gritted Tonpit.
He dropped back and Sevier rode beside the girl. Their pursuers came
fast and furious and the borderer knew they were gaining. The trail
with its twistings and its banks of forest growth prevented the
pursuers and the fugitives from glimpsing each other. Pointing ahead to
a lightning-shattered oak, Sevier directed:
“When we reach it you and Miss Elsie must dismount and make back into
the woods till you come to a high ledge. The cave is half-way up the
ledge and can’t be seen from below. Better hide among the rocks and
wait for me to lead you.”
As they reached the fallen tree Tonpit and Elsie dismounted and plunged
into the woods. Sevier gathered up the bridles and the three horses
swept on. For half a mile Sevier laid down the telltale trail, then
took to a ribbon of exposed rock and turned at right-angles to the
travelled path, his course paralleling that taken by the Tonpits.
A quarter of a mile of cautious advance brought him to the foot of the
ridge, and he turned south and soon came to the ledge. As he leaped to
the ground and led the horses deep among the rocks and brush Elsie
Tonpit’s face peered from behind a boulder. In another moment he was
leading father and daughter to the hiding-place.
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