The Crossing [39]
Road.'' And he swung again towards Polly Ann. ``You'll not go to Kaintuckee, ma'am; you'll stay here with us until the redskins are beaten off there. He may go if he likes.''
``I reckon we didn't come this far to give out, Captain Sevier,'' said she.
``You don't look to be the kind to give out, Mrs. McChesney,'' said he. ``And yet it may not be a matter of giving out,'' he added more soberly. This mixture of heartiness and gravity seemed to sit well on him. ``Surely you have been enterprising, Tom. Where in the name of the Continental Congress did you get the lad?''
``I married him along with Polly Ann,'' said Tom.
``That was the bargain, and I reckon he was worth it.''
``I'd take a dozen to get her,'' declared Mr. Sevier, while Polly Ann blushed. ``Well, well, supper's waiting us, and cider and applejack, for we don't get a wedding party every day. Some gentlemen are here whose word may have more weight and whose attractions may be greater than mine.''
He whistled to a negro lad, who took our horses, and led us through the court-yard and the house to the lawn at the far side of it. A rude table was set there under a great tree, and around it three gentlemen were talking. My memory of all of them is more vivid than it might be were their names not household words in the Western country. Captain Sevier startled them.
``My friends,'' said he, ``if you have despatches for Kaintuckee, I pray you get them ready over night.''
They looked up at him, one sternly, the other two gravely.
``What the devil do you mean, Sevier?'' said the stern one.
``That my friend, Tom McChesney, is going there with his wife, unless we can stop him,'' said Sevier.
``Stop him!'' thundered the stern gentleman, kicking back his chair and straightening up to what seemed to me a colossal height. I stared at him, boylike. He had long, iron-gray hair and a creased, fleshy face and sunken eyes. He looked as if he might stop anybody as he turned upon Tom. ``Who the devil is this Tom McChesney?'' he demanded.
Sevier laughed.
``The best scout I ever laid eyes on,'' said he. ``A deadly man with a Deckard, an unerring man at choosing a wife'' (and he bowed to the reddening Polly Ann), ``and a fool to run the risk of losing her.''
``Tut, tut,'' said the iron gentleman, who was the famous Captain Evan Shelby of King's Meadows, ``he'll leave her here in our settlements while he helps us fight Dragging Canoe and his Chickamauga pirates.''
``If he leaves me, ``said Polly Ann, her eyes flashing, ``that's an end to the bargain. He'll never find me more.''
Captain Sevier laughed again.
``There's spirit for you,'' he cried, slapping his whip against his boot.
At this another gentleman stood up, a younger counterpart of the first, only he towered higher and his shoulders were broader. He had a big-featured face, and pleasant eyes--that twinkled now--sunken in, with fleshy creases at the corners.
``Tom McChesney,'' said he, ``don't mind my father. If any man besides Logan can get inside the forts, you can. Do you remember me?''
``I reckon I do, Mr. Isaac Shelby,'' said Tom, putting a big hand into Mr. Shelby's bigger one. ``I reckon I won't soon forget how you stepped out of ranks and tuk command when the boys was runnin', and turned the tide.''
He looked like the man to step out of ranks and take command.
``Pish!'' said Mr. Isaac Shelby, blushing like a girl; ``where would I have been if you and Moore and Findley and the rest hadn't stood 'em off till we turned round?''
By this time the third gentleman had drawn my attention. Not by anything he said, for he remained silent, sitting with his dark brown head bent forward, quietly gazing at the scene from under his brows. The instant he spoke they turned towards him. He was perhaps forty, and broad-shouldered, not so tall as Mr. Sevier.
``Why do you go to Kaintuckee, McChesney?'' he asked.
``I give my word to Mr. Harrod and Mr. Clark to come back, Mr. Robertson,'' said Tom.
``And the wife? If you take her, you run a great
``I reckon we didn't come this far to give out, Captain Sevier,'' said she.
``You don't look to be the kind to give out, Mrs. McChesney,'' said he. ``And yet it may not be a matter of giving out,'' he added more soberly. This mixture of heartiness and gravity seemed to sit well on him. ``Surely you have been enterprising, Tom. Where in the name of the Continental Congress did you get the lad?''
``I married him along with Polly Ann,'' said Tom.
``That was the bargain, and I reckon he was worth it.''
``I'd take a dozen to get her,'' declared Mr. Sevier, while Polly Ann blushed. ``Well, well, supper's waiting us, and cider and applejack, for we don't get a wedding party every day. Some gentlemen are here whose word may have more weight and whose attractions may be greater than mine.''
He whistled to a negro lad, who took our horses, and led us through the court-yard and the house to the lawn at the far side of it. A rude table was set there under a great tree, and around it three gentlemen were talking. My memory of all of them is more vivid than it might be were their names not household words in the Western country. Captain Sevier startled them.
``My friends,'' said he, ``if you have despatches for Kaintuckee, I pray you get them ready over night.''
They looked up at him, one sternly, the other two gravely.
``What the devil do you mean, Sevier?'' said the stern one.
``That my friend, Tom McChesney, is going there with his wife, unless we can stop him,'' said Sevier.
``Stop him!'' thundered the stern gentleman, kicking back his chair and straightening up to what seemed to me a colossal height. I stared at him, boylike. He had long, iron-gray hair and a creased, fleshy face and sunken eyes. He looked as if he might stop anybody as he turned upon Tom. ``Who the devil is this Tom McChesney?'' he demanded.
Sevier laughed.
``The best scout I ever laid eyes on,'' said he. ``A deadly man with a Deckard, an unerring man at choosing a wife'' (and he bowed to the reddening Polly Ann), ``and a fool to run the risk of losing her.''
``Tut, tut,'' said the iron gentleman, who was the famous Captain Evan Shelby of King's Meadows, ``he'll leave her here in our settlements while he helps us fight Dragging Canoe and his Chickamauga pirates.''
``If he leaves me, ``said Polly Ann, her eyes flashing, ``that's an end to the bargain. He'll never find me more.''
Captain Sevier laughed again.
``There's spirit for you,'' he cried, slapping his whip against his boot.
At this another gentleman stood up, a younger counterpart of the first, only he towered higher and his shoulders were broader. He had a big-featured face, and pleasant eyes--that twinkled now--sunken in, with fleshy creases at the corners.
``Tom McChesney,'' said he, ``don't mind my father. If any man besides Logan can get inside the forts, you can. Do you remember me?''
``I reckon I do, Mr. Isaac Shelby,'' said Tom, putting a big hand into Mr. Shelby's bigger one. ``I reckon I won't soon forget how you stepped out of ranks and tuk command when the boys was runnin', and turned the tide.''
He looked like the man to step out of ranks and take command.
``Pish!'' said Mr. Isaac Shelby, blushing like a girl; ``where would I have been if you and Moore and Findley and the rest hadn't stood 'em off till we turned round?''
By this time the third gentleman had drawn my attention. Not by anything he said, for he remained silent, sitting with his dark brown head bent forward, quietly gazing at the scene from under his brows. The instant he spoke they turned towards him. He was perhaps forty, and broad-shouldered, not so tall as Mr. Sevier.
``Why do you go to Kaintuckee, McChesney?'' he asked.
``I give my word to Mr. Harrod and Mr. Clark to come back, Mr. Robertson,'' said Tom.
``And the wife? If you take her, you run a great