"
* * * * *
That evening about nine the Quaker slipped into my room.
"How about that tobacco-shed?" he asked. "Is it well guarded?"
"Faulkner and one of the men sleep above it, and there are a couple of
fierce dogs chained at the door. Unless they know the stranger, he will
be apt to lose the seat of his breeches."
The Quaker nodded, well pleased. "That is well, for I heard word in the
town that to-night you might have a visitor or two." Then he walked to
a stand of arms on the wall and took down a small sword, which he
handled lovingly. "A fair weapon, Andrew," said he. "My new sect
forbids me to wear a blade, but I think I'll keep this handy beside me
in the chimney corner."
Then he gave me the news. Lawrence had been far inland with the
Monacans, and had brought back disquieting tales. The whole nation of
the Cherokees along the line of the mountains was unquiet. Old family
feuds had been patched up, and there was a coming and going of
messengers from Chickamauga to the Potomac.
"Well, we're ready for them," I said, and I told him the full story of
our preparations.
"Ay, but that is not all. I would not give much for what the Cherokees
and the Tuscaroras could do.
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