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Updated: June 28, 2025
I'll be writin' you agin when we hit Morgantown. "Your old Muvver Jim." Douglas laid the letter gently on the table, his hand still resting upon it. He looked helplessly at the little, shrunken figure in the opposite chair. Polly had made no sound, but her head had slipped lower and lower and she now sat very quietly with her face in her hands. She had been taught by Toby and Jim never to whimper.
The horse which carried him away from the vengeance in Morgantown had died on the way and he had been saved from the landslide, but the girl had perished. He had driven McGurk from the ranges, and where would the penalty fall on those who were near and dear to him?
'Oh, yes, said I; 'I know who it is now. ... This daughter of whom you speak married about a year after, and is living in Morgantown, North Carolina, about one hundred miles from here.
But before I came out I got mixed up with a man called Hurley, a professional gambler." "And Diaz?" queried a chorus. "Yes. Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died. I think I'm wanted in Morgantown." Out of a little silence came the voice of Black Gandil: "Dick, I'm thankin' you now for cuttin' me so short a minute ago."
The rest had revived the strength of the tough little cow-pony, and he drove on at a gallop toward the twinkling lights of Morgantown. There was a new consciousness about Pierre as if he had changed his whole nature with his clothes. The sober sense of duty which had kept him in awe all his life like a lifted finger, was almost gone, and in its place was a joyous freedom.
If he reached some such place it would be the same story as the trip to Morgantown; men simply could not beat a way against that wind. Then a cold hand touched his, and he looked up to find her eyes grave and wide once more, and her lips half smiling, as if she strove to deceive him. "There's no chance of bringing help?"
Tipton gathered eight or ten men and early next morning surprised Sevier in his lodgings. Sevier Escape. Sevier could do nothing but surrender, and Tipton put him in irons and sent him across the mountains to Morgantown, in North Carolina, where he was kindly treated and allowed much liberty.
General Howard had marched from Loudon, had found a pretty good ford for his horses and wagons at Davis's, seven miles below Morgantown, and had made an ingenious bridge of the wagons left by General Vaughn at London, on which to pass his men. He marched by Unitia and Louisville.
Phil Branch had not spoken, as usual, but now he repeated, with rapt, far-off eyes: "'Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died? Hurley and Diaz! I played with Hurley, a couple of times." "Speakin' personal," said Garry Patterson, his red verging toward purple in excitement, "which I'm ready to go with you down to Morgantown and bury your father." "And do it shipshape," added Black Gandil.
"With all the trimmings," said Bud Mansie, "with all Morgantown joinin' the mournin' voluntarily under cover of our six-guns." "Wait," said Boone. "What's the second request?" "That can wait." "It's a bigger job than this one?" "Lots bigger." "And in the meantime?" "I'm your man." They shook hands.
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