“Do you think he’s at home, Tom?” I asked, fearful that I should not see this celebrated person.

“We’ll soon l’arn,” said he, as we descended.  “I heerd he was agoin’ to punish them Chickamauga robbers by Nick-a-jack.”

Just then we heard a prodigious barking, and a dozen hounds came charging down the path at our horses’ legs, the roan shying into the truck patch.  A man’s voice, deep, clear, compelling, was heard calling:—­

“Vi!  Flora!  Ripper!”

I saw him coming from the porch of the house, a tall slim figure in a hunting shirt—­that fitted to perfection—­and cavalry boots.  His face, his carriage, his quick movement and stride filled my notion of a hero, and my instinct told me he was a gentleman born.

“Why, bless my soul, it’s Tom McChesney!” he cried, ten paces away, while Tom grinned with pleasure at the recognition “But what have you here?”

“A wife,” said Tom, standing on one foot.

Captain Sevier fixed his dark blue eyes on Polly Ann with approbation, and he bowed to her very gracefully.

“Where are you going, Ma’am, may I ask?” he said.

“To Kaintuckee,” said Polly Ann.

“To Kaintuckee!” cried Captain Sevier, turning to Tom.  “Egad, then, you’ve no right to a wife,—­and to such a wife,” and he glanced again at Polly Ann.  “Why, McChesney, you never struck me as a rash man.  Have you lost your senses, to take a woman into Kentucky this year?”

“So the forts be still in trouble?” said Tom.

“Trouble?” cried Mr. Sevier, with a quick fling of his whip at an unruly hound, “Harrodstown, Boonesboro, Logan’s Fort at St. Asaph’s,—­they don’t dare stick their noses outside the stockades.  The Indians have swarmed into Kentucky like red ants, I tell you.  Ten days ago, when I was in the Holston settlements, Major Ben Logan came in.  His fort had been shut up since May, they were out of powder and lead, and somebody had to come.  How did he come?  As the wolf lopes, nay, as the crow flies over crag and ford, Cumberland, Clinch, and all, forty miles a day for five days, and never saw a trace—­for the war parties were watching the Wilderness Road.”  And he swung again towards Polly Ann.  “You’ll not go to Kaintuckee, ma’am; you’ll stay here with us until the redskins are beaten off there.  He may go if he likes.”

“I reckon we didn’t come this far to give out, Captain Sevier,” said she.

“You don’t look to be the kind to give out, Mrs. McChesney,” said he. 
“And yet it may not be a matter of giving out,” he added more soberly. 
This mixture of heartiness and gravity seemed to sit well on him. 
“Surely you have been enterprising, Tom.  Where in the name of the
Continental Congress did you get the lad?”

“I married him along with Polly Ann,” said Tom.

“That was the bargain, and I reckon he was worth it.”

“I’d take a dozen to get her,” declared Mr. Sevier, while Polly Ann blushed.  “Well, well, supper’s waiting us, and cider and applejack, for we don’t get a wedding party every day.  Some gentlemen are here whose word may have more weight and whose attractions may be greater than mine.”