“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 manoeuvred 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.