Men had ridden out from
Stafford county, and found no more than a child's toy and some bloody
garments.
"Who did it?" I asked, with fury rising in my heart.
"It's Cherokee work. There's nothing strange in it, except that such a
deed should have been dared. But it means the beginning of our
business. D'you think the Stafford folk will sleep in their beds after
that? And that's precisely what perplexes me. The Governor will be
bound to send an expedition against the murderers, and they'll not be
easy found. But while the militia are routing about on the Rapidan,
what hinders the big invasion to come down the James or the
Chickahominy or the Pamunkey or the Mattaponey and find a defenceless
Tidewater? As I see it, there's deep guile in this business. A Cherokee
murder is nothing out of the way, but these blackguards were not
killing for mere pleasure. As I've said before, I would give my right
hand to have better information. It's this land business that fickles
one. If it were a matter of islands and ocean bays, I would have long
ago riddled out the heart of it."
"We're on the way to get news," I said, and I told him of my wager that
evening.
"Man, Andrew!" he cried, "it's providential. There's nothing to hinder
you and me and a few others to ride clear into the hills, with the
Tidewater thinking it no more than a play of daft young men.
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