as Mrs. Brown's negro came back struggling with a deep-ribbed,
high-crested chestnut that was making half circles on his hind legs,
"I'll give you to the edge of the woods, and lay you a six-forty against
a pair of moccasins that you never get back to Tipton."

"God forbid that I ever do," I answered fervently.

"What," he exclaimed, "and you here with him on this sneak's errand!"

"I am here with him on no errand," said I. "He and his crew came on me a
quarter of an hour since at the edge of the clearing. Mr. Temple, I am
here to find you, and to save time I will ride with you."

"Egad, you'll have to ride like the devil then," said he, and he stooped
and snatched the widow's hand and kissed it with a daring gallantry that
I had thought to find in him. He raised his eyes to hers.

"Good-by, Mr. Temple," she said,--there was a tremor in her voice,--"and
may you save our Jack!"

He snatched the bridle from the boy, and with one leap he was on the
rearing, wheeling horse. "Come on," he cried to me, and, waving his hat
at the lady on the porch, he started off with a gallop up the trail in
the opposite direction from that which Tipton's men had taken.

All that I saw of Mr. Nicholas Temple on that ride to Turner's was his
back, and presently I lost sight of that. In truth, I never got to
Turner's at all, for I met him coming back at the wind's pace, a huge,
swarthy, determined man at his side and four others spurring after, the
spume dripping from the horses' mouths. They did not so much as look at
me as they passed, and there was nothing left for me to do but to turn my
tired beast and follow at any pace I could make towards Jonesboro.

It was late in the afternoon before I reached the town, the town set down
among the hills like a caldron boiling over with the wrath of Franklin.
The news of the capture of their beloved Sevier had flown through the
mountains like seeds on the autumn wind, and from north, south, east, and
west the faithful were coming in, cursing Tipton and Carolina as they
rode.

I tethered my tired beast at the first picket, and was no sooner on my
feet than I was caught in the hurrying stream of the crowd and fairly
pushed and beaten towards the court-house. Around it a thousand furious
men were packed. I heard cheering, hoarse and fierce cries, threats and
imprecations, and I knew that they were listening to oratory. I was
suddenly shot around the corner of a house, saw the orator himself, and