sage and been thrice drawn up toward the branch of an
apple-tree, and as many times lowered for the information it was
supposed he would give. Nothing was learned, and it is probable he had
no secrets to disclose or conceal.

Lieutenant Cogdill, with two soldiers, was detailed to conduct us to
Quallatown, a Cherokee station at the foot of the Great Smoky Mountains.
Two horses were allotted to the guard, and we set out in military order,
the refugees two and two in advance, Headen and Old Man Tigue lashed
together by the wrists, and the rear brought up by the troopers on
horseback. It was the last day of the year, and although a winter
morning, the rare mountain air was as soft as spring. We struck the
banks of the Tuckasegee directly opposite to a feathery waterfall,
which, leaping over a crag of the opposite cliff, was dissipated in a
glittering sheet of spray before reaching the tops of the trees below.
As the morning advanced we fell into a more negligent order of marching.
The beautiful river, a wide, swift current, flowing smoothly between
thickly wooded banks, swept by on our left, and on the right wild,
uninhabited mountains closed in the road. The two Vincents were
strolling along far in advance. Some distance behind them were Headen
and Tigue; the remainder of us following in a general group, Sill
mounted beside one of the guards. Advancing in this order, a cry from
the front broke on the stillness of the woods, and we beheld Old Man
Tigue gesticulating wildly in the center of the road and screaming,
"He's gone! He's gone! Catch him!" Sure enough the old man was alone,
the fragment of the parted strap dangling from his outstretched wrist.
The guard, who was mounted, dashed off in pursuit, followed by the
lieutenant on foot, but both soon returned, giving over the hopeless
chase. Thoroughly frightened by the events of the morning, Headen[18]
had watched his opportunity to make good his escape, and, as we
afterward learned, joined by Knapp and Tom Handcock, he conducted a
party safely to Tennessee.

[Footnote 18: A short time ago the writer received the following letter:
"Casher's Valley, May 28, 1890. Old Manuel Headen and wife are living,
but separated. Julia Ann is living with her mother. The old lady is
blind. Old man Norton (Roderic), to whose house you were taken as
prisoner, has been dead for years. Old Tom Handcock is dead.--W.R.
HOOPER."]

At Webster, the court town of Jackson County, we were quartere