"These marplot rear-guards of yours will spoil it all if they come to
Ferguson's camp either before or after you. Do they know the major's
present whereabouts?"
"No more than I did an hour ago. As I take it, they are depending on me
to show them the way."
"Well, then; dead men tell no tales."
"But, my good friend, you forget there are four of them and only two of
us! We should stand little chance with them in fair fight."
Again the old man's eyes snapped and glowed as if pent-fires were behind
them.
"Was it fair fight when Tarleton's men rode in upon Tom Sumter's rest
camp at Fishing Creek and cut down this little maid's father whilst he
was naked and bathing in the stream? Was it fair fight when King
George's Indian devils came down in the dead of night upon our
defenseless house at Northby? Never talk to me of fairness, sir, whilst
all this bloody tyranny is afoot!"
I thought upon it for a little space. 'Twas none so easy to decide. On
one hand, stern loyalty to the cause I had espoused passed instant
sentence on these four men whose lives stood in the way; on the other,
common humanity cried out and called it murder.
Never smile, my dears, and hint that I had found me a new heart of mercy
since that ambush-killing of the three Cherokee peace-men in the lone
valley of the western mountains. We did but give the savages a dole out
of their own store of cruel cunning and ferocity. But as for these my
trackers, three of them, at least, were soldiers and men of my own race.
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