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Polly Ann was not the woman to whimper. And yet I have but dim recollections of this journey. It was no hardship to a lad brought up in woodcraft. Fear of the Indians, like a dog shivering with the cold, was a deadened pain on the border. Strangely enough it was I who chanced upon the Nollichucky Trace, which follows the meanderings of that river northward through the great Smoky Mountains.
Beyond it a setting sun gilded the corn-fields, and horses and cattle dotted the pastures. We stood for a while staring at this oasis in the wilderness, and to my boyish fancy it was a fitting introduction to a delectable land. "Glory be to heaven!" exclaimed Polly Ann. "It's Nollichucky Jack's house," said Tom. "And who may he be?" said she.
"Faith, a thoroughbred hoss," says he; "sech nostrils, and sech a gray eye with the devil in it fer go yellow ha'r, and ez tall ez Mr. Jackson heah." "And you say he's gone off again with Sevier?" My God, but that was like Nollichucky Jack. Say, stranger, when your Mr. Temple smiled " "He is the man!" I cried; "tell me where to find him." Mr.
My thoughts sometimes flew back to the wondrous summer evening when I trod the Nollichucky trace with Tom and Polly Ann, when I first looked down upon the log palace of that prince of the border, John Sevier. Well I remembered him, broad-shouldered, handsome, gay, a courtier in buckskin.
And soon we had passed beyond the corn-field into the Wilderness again. Our way was down the Nollichucky, past the great bend of it below Lick Creek, and so to the Great War-path, the trail by which countless parties of red marauders had travelled north and south. It led, indeed, northeast between the mountain ranges.
"I reckon the redskins won't bother us till we git by the Nollichucky and Watauga settlements," he said. "The redskins!" said Polly Ann, indignant; "I reckon if one of 'em did git me he'd kiss me once in a while." Whereupon Tom, looking more sheepish still, tried to kiss her, and failed ignominiously, for she vanished into the dark woods.
"North!" said Tom to Polly Ann, laughing. "The little devil will beat me at woodcraft soon. Ay, north, Davy. I'm hunting for the Nollichucky Trace that leads to the Watauga settlement." It was wonderful to me how he chose his way through the mountains. Once in a while we caught sight of a yellow blaze in a tree, made by himself scarce a month gone, when he came southward alone to fetch Polly Ann.
Beyond it a setting sun gilded the corn-fields, and horses and cattle dotted the pastures. We stood for a while staring at this oasis in the wilderness, and to my boyish fancy it was a fitting introduction to a delectable land. "Glory be to heaven!" exclaimed Polly Ann. "It's Nollichucky Jack's house," said Tom. "And who may he be?" said she.
And later, when the fireflies glowed and the Nollichucky sang in the darkness, we listened to the talk of the war of the year gone by. I needed not to be told that before me were the renowned leaders of the Watauga settlements. My hero worship cried it aloud within me.
Then, by thunder, Cozby takes a step right up to the bar and cries out, 'Judge, aren't you about done with that man? Faith, it was like judgment day, such a mix-up as there was after that, and Nollichucky Jack made three leaps and got on the mare, and in the confusion Cozby and Evans were off too, and the whole State of North Carolina couldn't catch 'em then." Nick sighed.
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