Mr. Jackson's
esteem again as that gentleman himself sat in the saddle. He was as good
as his word, rode out with me some distance on the road, and reminded me
at the last that Nick was to race him.

CHAPTER VI. THE WIDOW BROWN'S

It was not to my credit that I should have lost the trail, after Mr.
Jackson put me straight. But the night was dark, the country unknown to
me, and heavily wooded and mountainous. In addition to these things
my mind ran like fire. My thoughts sometimes flew back to the wondrous
summer evening when I trod the Nollichucky trace with Tom and Polly
Ann, when I first looked down upon the log palace of that prince of the
border, John Sevier. Well I remembered him, broad-shouldered, handsome,
gay, a courtier in buckskin. Small wonder he was idolized by the Watauga
settlers, that he had been their leader in the struggle of Franklin for
liberty. And small wonder that Nick Temple should be in his following.

Nick! My mind was in a torment concerning him. What of his mother?
Should I speak of having seen her? I went blindly through the woods
for hours after the night fell, my horse stumbling and weary, until at
length I came to a lonely clearing on the mountain side, and a fierce
pack of dogs dashed barking at my horse's heels. There was a dark cabin
ahead, indistinct in the starlight, and there I knocked until a gruff
voice answered me and a tousled man came to the door. Yes, I had missed
the trail. He shook his head when I asked for the Widow Brown's, and
bade me share his bed for the night. No, I would go on, I was used
to the backwoods. Thereupon he thawed a little, kicked the dogs, and
pointed to where the mountain dipped against the star-studded sky. There
was a trail there which led direct to the Widow Brown's, if I could
follow it. So I left him.

Once the fear had settled deeply of missing Nick at the Widow Brown's, I
put my mind on my journey, and thanks to my early training I was able
to keep the trail. It doubled around the spurs, forded stony brooks in
diagonals, and often in the darkness of the mountain forest I had to
feel for the blazes on the trees. There was no making time. I gained the
notch with the small hours of the morning, started on with the descent,
crisscrossing, following a stream here and a stream there, until at
length the song of the higher waters ceased and I knew that I was in the
valley. Suddenly there was no crown-cover over my head. I had gained the
road once