tive, and of
such diligence as to convince the Indians of its sincerity of purpose,
resulted fruitlessly. The government presently took occasion to made
some valuable presents to the tribe, not as indemnity, for it could
recognize no responsibility in the strange disaster, but for the sake of
seeming to comply with the form of offering satisfaction for the loss,
which otherwise the Indians would retaliate with massacre.

Nilaque Great with this cloud upon it grew dreary. The strange
disappearance of its cheera-taghe was canvassed again and again,
reaching no surmise of the truth. Speculations, futile as they were
continuous, began to be reinforced with reminiscences of the date of the
event, and certain episodes became strangely significant now, although
hardly remarked at the time; people remembered unexplained and curious
noises that had sounded like muffled thunder in the deep midnight, and
again, scarcely noted, in the broad daylight. The "sacred fire" remained
unkindled, and sundry misfortunes were attributed to this unprecedented
neglect; an expert warrior, young and notably deft-handed, awkwardly
shot himself with his own gun; the crops, cut short by a late and
long-continued drought, were so meagre as to be hardly worth the
harvesting; the days appointed for the annual feasts and thanksgiving
were like days of mourning; discontents waxed and grew strong.
Superstitious terrors became rife, and at length it was known at
Charlestown that the Cherokees of Nilaque Great had settled a new place
farther down upon the river, for at the old town the vanished
cheera-taghe were abroad in the spirit, pervading the "beloved square"
at night with cries of "_A-kee-o-hoo-sa! A-kee-o-hoo-sa!_" (I am dead! I
am dead!) clamoring for their graves and the honors of sepulture due to
them and denied. And this was a grief to the head men of the town, for
of all tribes the Cherokees loved and revered their dead. Thus when
other cheera-taghe kindled for the municipality the "sacred fire" for a
new year it was distributed to hearths far away, and Nilaque Great,
deserted and depopulated, had become a "waste town."

A fair place it had been in its prime, and so it had seemed one
afternoon in June, 1734, when for the first time the two white strangers
had entered it. Mountains more splendid than those which rose about it
on every hand it would be difficult to imagine. The dense, rich woods
reach in undiminished vigor along the slopes coveri