By dusk on the third day, James saw the smoke from the Cherokee campfires along the river. He hesitated. The most recent treaty had just been signed months before, after General Wayne’s victory at The Battle of Fallen Timbers. History had shown that treaties were fragile and were only one incident away from being broken. How would he be greeted? He knew he had no other choice than to enter the village. Besides, he was sure the Indians already knew he was here and if they meant him harm, he’d already be dead.
By the time he reached the camp, it was well past dark. Many smaller fires burned in front of small lodges, but a giant fire was blazing in the middle of the camp. Sparks erupted from blazing oak logs as large as his body, and disappeared like elusive fire flies into the night
