"It was not ingratitude, Nick," I said; "you were all I had in the
world." And then I faltered, the sadness of that far-off time coming
over me in a flood, and the remembrance of his generous sorrow for me.

"And how the devil did you track me to the Widow Brown's?" he demanded,
releasing me.

"A Mr. Jackson had a shrewd notion you were there. And by the way, he
was in a fine temper because you had skipped a race with him."

"That sorrel-topped, lantern-headed Mr. Jackson?" said Nick. "He'll be
killed in one of his fine tempers. Damn a man who can't keep his temper.
I'll race him, of course. And where are you bound now, Davy?"

"For Louisville, in Kentucky, at the Falls of the Ohio. It is a growing
place, and a promising one for a young man in the legal profession to
begin life."

"When do you leave?" said he.

"To-morrow morning, Nick," said I. "You wanted once to go to Kentucky;
why not come with me?"

His face clouded.

"I do not budge from this town," said he, "I do not budge until I hear
that Jack Sevier is safe. Damn Cozby! If he had given me my way, we
should have been forty miles from here by this. I'll tell you. Cozby is
even now picking five men to go to Morganton and steal Sevier, and he
puts me off with a kind word. He'll not have me, he says."