THE SENTENCE OF THE WILDERNESS
Although styled a cave by Sevier the hiding-place in the ledge was only
a rock recess, caused by the undercutting of surface waters. In this
pocket the borderer left the Tonpits while he went for assistance. He
was surprised on scouting toward the trail to hear the voices of the
outlaws raised in loud discussion. He had taken it for granted that
Hajason’s men would not observe the abrupt ending of the signs left by
the three horses and would continue their pursuit for some distance
beyond the ledge.
“I tell ye this is the girl’s hoss. I plugged him to stop the girl.
That skunk of a Sevier can’t make fast time carryin’ her on his saddle.
Old Tonpit’s nag must be ’bout blowed,” bawled Hester’s voice.
“My breed tracker says there was three hosses ahead,” boomed Hajason’s
deep bass. “He didn’t have to see ’em to know that. If ye fools hadn’t
rammed ahead of him an’ wiped out the signs he could ’a’ told where
they swung off the path. All we know now is that they turned off
somewheres atween here an’ where we stopped, or ’bout half a mile
ahead. We’ll have to scatter an’ search both sides of the path.”
“This hoss with his flank ripped open is the girl’s nag, I’m tellin’
ye,” persisted Hester. “If Sevier didn’t ride double then they must ’a’
took my hoss. If that’s the case an’ he’s within hearin’, I reckon I
can wipe out the need of searchin’ both sides of the path. My animal is
trained to prick up his ears when he hears this.”
Sevier darted back toward the three horses hidden among the rocks, but
he had scarcely started when the bully’s shrill whistle rang out.
Before he could cover quarter of the distance the whistling was
repeated several times and Hester’s mount came galloping through the
thickets in answer to his master’s call. The borderer essayed to catch
the bridle, but with a snort the animal jumped aside and crashed toward
the trail.
The excited cries of the outlaws, punctuated by Hester’s loud oaths of
admiration, greeted the arrival of the horse. Sevier’s only consolation
was the knowledge that although the faithful beast had answered the
call he could not guide the outlaws to the ledge. And yet, a quarter of
a mile even of thick forest did not afford as wide a margin of safety
as Sevier would wish. The borderer realized that whatever action he was
to take to safeguard the secret of the ledge must be initiated at once.
At a point where a twist in the trail hid the band from view Sevier
crossed to the other side. Moving parallel to the trail, he gained a
position opposite the horsemen just as Red Hajason was commanding:
“Spread out in a thin line an’ beat up the woods. The hoss come from
some spot near here. The trackers will go ahead an’ foller the hoss’s
tracks. When any one sights the runaways jest give a yell an’ lay low
till all of us can come up. Not a word, mind ye, till ye see something.”
Sevier crawled closer, until, by kneeling, he could detect the movement
of a horse on the trail. Raising his rifle, he fired. The animal
dropped, shot through the head. The rider, thrown violently to the
ground, quickly identified himself by cursing volubly as only Red
Hajason could curse.
Sevier, although deeply regretting his lead had killed the horse
instead of its master, thus distracted the outlaws from their purpose
of searching the woods in the vicinity of the ledge. He began falling
back, slipping noiselessly from tree to tree, while Hajason yelled for
his men to dismount and give chase. The men obeyed but displayed a
strong inclination to keep well together. Such a daring attack could
have been made by but one man, Chucky Jack, whose woodcraft was
superior to that of an Indian’s.
“—— ye for white-livered hounds!” roared Red Hajason. “Spread out! A
hundred pounds to the man what fetches me his head!”
Stimulated by this offer and spurred on by their fear of their leader,
the men lengthened the line, and Sevier knew he must give ground in
earnest. He was in a peculiar predicament, for his task was increased
two-fold by the appearance of Hester’s horse. He must adhere to his
original plan of securing assistance; the safety of the girl demanded
that. Yet he must remain in contact with the gang or the men would
become discouraged at their lack of success and return to investigate
the east side of the trail.
To find succour under the circumstances would demand something of a
miracle. Any band of Cherokees in the neighbourhood would scatter and
take to cover when they heard the sound of the chase. He had counted on
finding a village, unsuspected by the outlaws, and by a diplomatic
“talk” enlisting the aid of the warriors. The precipitate pursuit
eliminated any chance of finesse. Could he play the game until
nightfall he might find it possible to double back and lead the Tonpits
north.
Against this manœuvre bulked the obstacle of the horses and their guard
left in the trail. Once the outlaws lost him they would return to their
animals, arriving coincident with his return to the ledge.
“Devil of a mess!” Sevier inwardly raged as he knocked the legs from
under an outlaw closing in on his right. “Held up by these scum after
standing off both the Creek and the Cherokee Nations! If it wasn’t for
Miss Elsie I’d love to stay round these parts till there either wasn’t
any Chucky Jack or there wasn’t any outlaws.”
His shot at the man on the right brought the gang forward in a wild
rush, each eager to sight the fugitive before he could reload. Sevier
raced for his life until he gained enough leeway to pause and recharge
his rifle. He had barely finished when a rustling behind him sent him
to the ground, his gun levelled.
“_Wa-ya!_” softly called a voice.
“_Aniwaya!_” joyfully hissed Sevier, creeping forward. “Man of the Wolf
clan, where are you?”
A copper-coloured form rose almost at his elbow. The borderer
recognized Bloody Mouth.
“Little John never knew the hunting-call of the Wolf could sound so
sweet,” whispered Sevier.
“Tsan-usdi is chased by dogs,” growled Bloody Mouth, his eyes flaring
with blood-lust. “I will stick my ax in their heads.”
Drawing the warrior back as the outlaws advanced, Sevier hurriedly
asked:
“Where are the Cherokees? I want warriors.”
“You must travel till sundown to come up with them,” was the
discouraging rejoinder.
“That will not do,” muttered Sevier. “Bloody Mouth will do as his
brother says?”
“He will. By nightfall his wolf-call will bring many men of his clan.
Then we will hunt down and break off the heads of Tsan-usdi’s enemies.”
“I can not wait. There is a white woman I must take north. Take my
place and keep falling back. Wear my hat and hunting-shirt but do not
let them see you if you can help it. If they do see you they will think
you are Little John. Do not speak.”
“But I can shoot?”
“Ay, and shoot to kill. Lead them far. There are many horses back on
the trail. They shall all be yours.”
“_Siyu!_ I feel my medicine is very red,” gloated Bloody Mouth,
slipping on the shirt and taking the hat.
With this decoy to take his place Sevier sprinted away to pass around
the north end of the outlaws’ advance. Occasional shouts and much
rifle-fire kept him informed as to the continued success of his
deception. Bloody Mouth was retreating, and the few flittering glimpses
the horse-thieves caught of him convinced them they all but had Chucky
Jack in their power.
A crackling among the bushes near by caused Sevier to drop into a
hollow and draw his knife. A man in buckskin, evil of face and panting
with eagerness to work behind the fugitive and slay from ambush, passed
close to the borderer. Only the safety of the Tonpits prevented him
from stopping the outlaw. In another five minutes the fugitive knew he
was behind the line of searchers. Between him and the trail there could
be no menace except as he might encounter a straggler.
His return was unimpeded and, cautiously thrusting his head from cover,
Sevier beheld two-score horses and five guards. He was surprised at
this show of strength, having believed there could not be more than a
score of outlaws at the most. A new and daring plan formed in his mind;
to rout the guards and run off the animals would be a noble
counter-stroke. Without their animals Hajason’s men would feel helpless.
He carefully shifted his position, preliminary to covering the guards
with his rifle and demanding their surrender, but was interrupted by a
commotion in the bush above him. The guards observed it and raised
their guns; then they relaxed as Red Hajason and Hester stepped into
the trail and slowly walked toward the borderer’s position.
“I tell ye, the major’n the woman’s back where my hoss come from,”
persisted Hester. “To —— with Chucky Jack. Whistle yer gang back an’
let’s grab ’em.”
Hajason smiled cynically and retorted:
“D’ye s’pose I didn’t have brains ’nough to know they was back there?
That’s why ye run into me on comin’ back here. We both had the same
notion, I reckon. Sevier’s out of the way, bein’ chased toward sundown.
His goin’ takes the men out of the way. It gives us a chance to git the
major’n his girl an’ light out. Old Tassel’s ag’in war. That means
Chucky Jack will have plenty of time to fetch his riflemen down on me.
I’ve been lookin’ for it for more’n two years. I’m through with this
country. Me for the Creek Nation an’ the money McGillivray will pay for
the man an’ woman. Then for New ’Leans. Game’s played out on the
Hiwassee. Too many —— settlers crowdin’ in.”
“Where do I figger in the money McGillivray pays ye?” curiously asked
Hester.
“I’ll give ye five hundred dollars.”
“——! An’ after me fetchin’ ’em to ye!”
“Ye fetched ’em ’cause ye couldn’t handle the game yerself. It was me
that risked my neck in goin’ to McGillivray. Then I got to square some
of the men.”
Hester laughed mockingly.
“Ye’ll take these five men, mebbe. An’ after ye strike the creek border
they can carry in one eye all ye give ’em. Gimme a thousand an’ we’ll
round up the Tonpits, bunch the hosses an’ ride for the Coosa.”
“A thousand! Ye’re crazy. After Polcher dips his dirty paws in, what’ll
be left for me?”
“Polcher?” gasped Hester, rubbing his chin. “Huh! So he’s down there. I
don’t reckon I care for to see Mister Polcher. He must feel nasty the
way I fetched the Tonpits to ye. An’ he’s sure told McGillivray the
trick I played. I ain’t hankerin’ to see McGillivray, neither. Gimme
the five hundred now.”
“What do I git for the five hundred?” sneered Hajason.
“I’ll help round ’em up an’ help run ’em off till we strike the lower
towns. I’ve got some good friends there.”
Hajason stroked his beard thoughtfully; then he promised—
“As soon as we git the man an’ woman on hosses an’ ready to cut an’ run
I’ll hand over.”
Hester’s visage grew dark with passion, but he feared Hajason and
smothered his rage and reluctantly agreed:
“Ye drive a fussy bargain. But I’ll agree, providin’ ye can pay me the
minute we catch ’em.”
Hajason tapped a bulging belt under his hunting-shirt and assured:
“I’ve got it with me. Don’t fret any. I’ve been lookin’ for the game to
bust up an’ always go loaded. It’s yers once we nail ’em.”
“All right,” said Hester, catching a horse and mounting.
Red Hajason climbed into a saddle and ordered the guards to take the
horses down the trail a mile.
“We’ll save time pickin’ ’em up there,” he laughed.
“There’ll be some pretty profits out of the nags an’ the saddles,”
mused Hester. “S’pose I come in on that?”
“S’pose ye don’t, an’ save yer breath,” snarled Red Hajason. “Ye’re
lucky I ain’t found no fault for the way ye let them two slip through
yer hands while I was gone. I’m a fool to give ye even five hundred.”
Hester sighed and rode beside Red Hajason and remarked:
“Wal, if ye feel that way ’bout it, I reckon I won’t say nothin’ more.
I’ll jest take all ye’ve got.”
He had pistoled his man before Sevier could guess what was coming. The
borderer raised his rifle; then he lowered it as the five guards
sounded a shout of rage and started for the assassin. The last Sevier
saw of Hester the bully was galloping the two horses up the trail while
he held Hajason’s body in the saddle and unfastened the heavy
money-belt.
After the guards had pounded by his place of concealment Sevier darted
across the trail. The rearmost guard happened to glance back and see
him. He wheeled about with a yell of warning to his mates, but the four
swept on to kill Hester. The cry was answered from the woods, however,
and Sevier dived into cover just as the outlaws returned from chasing
Bloody Mouth.
The borderer had no idea of leading the gang to the ledge, and at once
he endeavoured to work north, parallel to the trail. The outlaws
pressed him close. He shot one and was instantly engaged by two others.
Clubbing his rifle, he knocked one senseless, whereat the second lost
all stomach for the fight and fled. The delay permitted others to come
up. Dropping his empty gun, he snatched up the rifles belonging to the
dead man and his senseless mate and discharged both pointblank at his
assailants. They fell back in confusion at this unexpected reception,
and the borderer leaped into a thicket armed only with his knives.
Frantic cries from the trail, followed by a volley of rifle-fire,
checked his flight and turned him back to investigate. As he emerged
into the trail a horseman threw up his rifle, only to have it knocked
aside by Kirk Jackson.
“John Sevier!” he yelled. “John Sevier without his shirt!”
Chucky Jack beheld his riflemen scuttling into the woods and out again
in the process of running the horse-thieves to cover. On the ground
were a dozen dead outlaws and two settlers. Stetson was standing beside
his horse, tying a bandage about his arm by using his teeth, the
process sadly weakening his emphatic sentiments concerning all
“varments.”
“Hester got away!” panted Sevier, throwing himself on to a horse. “He
went north—”
“We came from the north. We met him,” gravely informed Jackson. “We’d
been here sooner, but the men formed a ring and he and I had it out. I
found this on him.” And he touched the money-belt strapped outside his
hunting-shirt. “It’ll help raise the militia you’re going to need. Now
for Red Hajason—and Elsie!”
“Hajason is on the ground here somewhere. Elsie and her father are
near. Round up the rascals in the bush and I’ll fetch her to you.”
“No; I’ll go with you. Stetson is wounded, but he can handle the
fighting,” cried Jackson.
A shout from Sevier, and Major Tonpit and his daughter descended from
their hiding-place. Tonpit was stupefied by the defeat of his schemes
and showed neither resentment nor interest in the young people’s public
avowal of their shameless preference for each other’s arms.
“Creeks fooled. Cherokees quieted for a time at least. Spain blocked.
Hajason wiped out,” checked off Sevier as he rode ahead with the
despairing major by his side. “Now for Bonnie Kate and the building of
the new State.”
Escorted by two thousand men in buckskin, the delegates met at
Jonesboro on August twenty-third and voted that the people should elect
fifteen representatives, who were to write a constitution for the new
State and organize its Government. The North Carolina Legislature met
in November and repealed the Cessions Act and granted all that had been
asked in the Jonesboro petition. But the fifteen representatives
proceeded, nevertheless, and created the State of Franklin with John
Sevier as governor, thereby constituting one of the most unique
chapters in American history.
The new State endured for three years, then passed out of existence, to
be recreated in time as Tennessee. How Sevier was outlawed by North
Carolina, put on trial for high treason and rescued from the court-room
in a most amazing manner; how he was appointed brigadier-general by
Washington, unanimously selected six times as governor of Tennessee and
elected three times to Congress is told in history.
How in his last years he was often visited by John Watts and other
chiefs, with whom he had fought, and how they partook of his
hospitality and profited by his kind advice, rounds out a career
seldom, if ever, equalled in all border chronicles.
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THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS
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Transcriber’s note:
Silently corrected typographical errors and inconsistencies;
retained non-standard spelling.