The joy on Hassai's face gradually faded.
He looked back. After months of relentless encroachment by the Americans, scarcely any of the Cherokee Tribe's territory remained.
There was no need to wait for the American forces to attack again. Without enough farmland and pasture, more than half his people would starve to death that winter. He tightened his grip on his spear, wanting to order them to reclaim the tribe's land, yet the words caught in his throat. That would be no different from sending them to their deaths.
Just then, a Cherokee warrior rode over and called loudly to Hassai, "Two French people wish to see you."
Half an hour later.
In the northernmost town of the Cherokee Tribe, Hassai stared in disbelief at the envoy sent by the Governor of Louisiana. In English, he said, "You mean you can set aside a piece of land in Arkansas for the Cherokee Tribe?"
The envoy produced a document signed by Governor Theolac, Count Theollac. "It is right beside the Mississippi River, forty million mu in total. The vast majority of it can be cultivated."
Arkansas had more than two hundred million mu of land, yet previously had fewer than a thousand inhabitants. This was only one-eighth of the habitable land on the western bank of the Mississippi River. Hassai stood stunned for quite a while before cautiously asking, "What price must we pay?"
"Obey Louisiana's basic laws, and provide assistance should anyone invade this place."
Hassai could scarcely believe it. "That's all?"
"Yes. That's all."
Hassai remained extremely cautious. "Why does the Governor wish to help the Cherokee?"
"To be frank, we need to face a common enemy—the Americans," the envoy said. "Like ravenous wolves, they are madly devouring every stretch of land their eyes can reach.
"But there are