er country, and many were burned alive
in their houses when the towns were fired. Many were now pitifully
destitute. As the fugitives stood on the summits of distant hills and
watched their blazing homes and great granaries of corn--"I could but be
sorry for them a little," declared Major Grant of Montgomery's command.

But the result was not to be what Montgomery hoped. The Cherokees were
arming anew everywhere. They would fight now to the death, to
extermination,--even Atta-Kulla-Kulla, who had been opposed to breaking
the treaty. Oh, yes, he had seen Atta-Kulla-Kulla. The chief said he
would not strike a blow with a feather to break a treaty and his solemn
word. But to avenge the blood of his kindred that cried out from the
ground he would give his life, if he had as many years to live as there
were hairs on his head! The express added that Atta-Kulla-Kulla had been
sitting on the ground in his old blanket, with ashes on his head, after
the council agreed to break the treaty. But now he was going round with
his scalp-lock dressed out with fresh eagle-feathers, and armed with his
gun, and tomahawk, and scalp-knife, and wearing his finest gear, and
with all his war-paint on--one side of his face red, and the other
black, with big white circles around his eyes,--"looks mighty keen," the
man exclaimed with a sort of relish of the fine barbaric effect of the
fighting trim of the great warrior.

Then his face fell.

"And I told Oconostota that I would not deliver his message to you,
Captain Stuart and Captain Demere, sir," he hesitated; "it was not fit
for your worshipful presence; and he said that the deed might go before
the word, then."

"What message did he send?" asked Demere, with flashing eyes.

"Well, sir, he said Fort Loudon was theirs,--that it was built for the
Cherokees, and they had paid the English nation for it in the blood they
had shed in helping the Virginians defend their frontier against the
French and their Indian allies. But you English had possessed the fort;
you had claimed it; and now he would say that it was yours,--yours to be
burnt in,--to be starved in,--to die in,--to leave your bones in, till
they are thrust forth by the rightful owner to be gnawed by the wolf of
the wilderness."

There was a momentary silence.

"Vastly polite!" exclaimed Captain Stuart, with a rollicking laugh.

"Lord, sir," said the man, as if the sound grated upon him, "they are a
dreadful people. I wouldn't go th