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Updated: May 23, 2025
It is impossible to understand how a man like Digatiski of Eupharsee could believe this, so sage, despite his ignorance, so crafty, so diplomatic and acute in subterfuge, yet he was sodden in superstition. "Can you see Colonel Grant, the Barbarous?" he asked suddenly, lifting his head and gazing steadily at the young Indian's face, which was outlined against the pallid neutral tint of the sky.
He was esteemed at an English trading-house down on the Eupharsee River as the best "second man" in any of the towns; this phrase "second man" expressing the united functions of alderman, chief of police, chairman of boards of public improvements, and the various executive committees of civilization.
Thus it was that Digatiski, the Hawk, of Eupharsee Town, long the terror of the southern provinces, must needs sit idle, forlorn, frenzied with rage and grief, in a remote and lofty cavity of a great cliff, and looking out over range and valley and river of this wild and beautiful country, see fire and sword work their mission of destruction upon it.
Now that the Cherokees were ostensibly pacified, that is, exhausted, decimated, their towns burned, their best and bravest slain, their hearts broken, the fugitives from this settlement on the Eupharsee River, as the Hiwassee was then called, gathered their household gods and journeyed back to Blue Lick, to cry out in the wilderness that they were "home" once more, and clasp each other's hands in joyful gratulation to witness the roofs and stockade rise again, rebuilt as of yore.
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