A Spectre of Power by Mary Noailles Murfree

AT camp an unusual activity had characterized the closing hours of the afternoon. It was the eve of the day fixed for the departure of the commissioners and their escort. The official business had been concluded. The survey of the land to be ceded was completed. The last feigning objections on the part of the Cherokee headmen and the final devious doubtings of the commissioners had been merged in mutual concession and compliant acquiescence. The gifts brought to propitiate the Indians had been presented and graciously accepted, and the official farewell taken with much smoking of the friend-pipe and saltatory agilities of the eagle-tail dance.

That no unforeseen mischance might hamper the early start, Everard, with military prevision, had caused every preparation to be so completed as to leave as little as possible to be done on the morrow. The pack-horses had been ranged in due order and tethered, and had but to be loaded, the fardels of the pack saddles being already made up and strapped on; the travel rations for several days had been issued to the men; the personal luggage of the commissioners was also ready, owing to the repeated insistence of Everard; the final orders had been given the first sergeant, left in command in his stead till he should join the line of march at Talassee. He himself in his tent, with hardly a hand's turn left to be done, was on the point of setting out to ride to Talassee Town with his Cherokee guide to capture Callum MacIlvesty.