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In the supreme moment of excitement he flung himself into the Tennessee River, and while eagerly sought by the emissaries of Colannah in the woods, he swam to Choté, "beloved town," the city of refuge of the whole Cherokee nation, where the shedder of blood was exempt from vengeance.
He had a mission to the head-men of Choté which would not brook delay. Yet he had a message to leave for the English officer. He desired to tell Captain Stuart that he often thought of him! Whenever he heard tales of famous warriors, of British generals, he thought of him!
In the wide, wide world below, noble rivers flowed, while aloft, like the gods on Olympus, it seemed the travelers could overlook the universe, so vast as to discount all theories of measurement, and mark its varying mood. Odalie could not refrain from asking in what direction was Choté, "beloved town, city of refuge." There it lay in primeval beauty, the land of hope.
"And for men," she sobbed, thinking of Alexander and marveling if the Indians would carry him on without resistance to Choté, for he could not know she had found lodgement in the fort, or further still and enslave him many captives had lived for years in Indian tribes she had heard of this even in Carolina; or would they murder him in some trifling quarrel or on the discovery of his nationality or to make easier the robbery of the packhorses.
But the bullock having had a good meal of oilcake would not settle down to graze alone but kept running after all the herds of cattle it saw, and Chote had to spend his whole time running after it till he was worn out and he was very soon sorry that he had taken up such hard service; and was quite resolved not to stay on after his year was up.
At Choté, it seemed, was this gay and facetious Frenchman, this all-accomplished Baron Des Johnnes, who could speak seven different Indian languages with equal facility, to say nothing of a trifle or two such as English, Spanish, German, and French, of course! at Choté, City of Refuge, where, if he had shed the blood of the native Cherokee on his own threshold, his life would have been sacred even from the vengeance of the Indian's brother!
But directly the bullock got outside the village it rushed off bellowing towards some other cattle and Mote had to run after it with his bedstead on his head, and all the afternoon the bullock kept him running about till he was worn out. Meanwhile Chote was no better off; his unaccustomed shoulders were quite bruised with constantly carrying water.
At the same time three hundred Chickamaugas, likewise led by the resident British commissaries, started out against the Carolina frontier. "A rebel commissioner in Chote being informed of their movements here sent express into Holston river." This would not only at once recall them from the frontier, but would give them a salutary lesson.
And Baron Des Johnnes arose very smiling and bland, and bowed very low, and reminded Colonel Sumter that he was in Choté Old Town! And what said Colonel Sumter? He spoke in the English, like a wolf might talk "Old Town or New Town I'll take you to Charles Town!" And what did the Baron Des Johnnes? Not a Cherokee; not bound by the ever-sacred laws of the City of Refuge!
At Choté the Cherokees would have seemed as easy, as appropriate, as graceful, as native as the deer. And at Choté Oconostota seemed as native as the fox. There he sat on the great buffalo rugs, even his faculties much more at command in his wonted place, under the dusky red walls of the clay-daubed dome of the council-chamber.
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