"He is sure to suffer a violent death some time or other," said Paul, "and he knows it, but it never mikes him gloomy. There are other French priests like him, too, boys, going thousands of miles, alone and unarmed, over this vast continent."

"'Pears to me that we are wrong when we talk about the French bein' dancin' masters an' sech like," said Shif'less Sol. "My father fit in the great French war up thar along the Canady line an' in Canady, an' he says the French wuz ez good fighters ez anybody. Besides, they took naterally to the woods, makin' fust rate scouts an' hunters, an' ef that ain't proof o' the stuff that's in people, nothin' is."

This day upon the waters was one of unbroken peace. The flood, as Henry had predicted, continued to rise, spreading far into the woods and out of sight. Now and then some portion of the shore, eaten into continually by the powerful stream, would give way and fall with a sticky sigh into the river. Uprooted trees floated in the current or became wedged in the forest. But the sunlight remained undimmed and they began to grow familiar with the river. It was a friend now, bearing them whither they would go.

About noon they saw two deer marooned on an island made by the flood, and they shot one of them for the sake of the fresh meat.

Now ensued a long journey, unbroken by danger, but full of interest. They came near enough once or twice to ascertain that the Spanish force was just ahead of them, but they saw no chance to secure the precious maps and plans or interfere in any other way with the dangerous project of Alvarez, and they waited patiently.

The flood began to subside, but it was a mighty river yet, and would still be so when all the flood was gone. They passed the mouths of great rivers to right and to left, but they did not know their names, nor whence they came. The air grew much warmer and they were very glad indeed now that they had the sail, which, allied with the current, carried them on as fast as they wished.

Shif'less Sol lay lazily under the sail, his limbs relaxed, and his face a picture of content.

"I could float on an' on forever," he said sleepily, "an' I don't care how long it takes to git to New Or-lee-yuns. I think I'm goin' to like that place. I saw a trapper once who had been thar, an' he said you could be jest ez lazy an' sleepy ez you wished an' nobody would blame you—they kinder look upon it ez the right thing, an' that suits me. He said them Spaniards an' French had orange trees about. You could lay in your bed, reach a han' out o' the window, pull an orange off the tree, suck it, an' then go back to sleep without ever havin' disturbed the cover. I never seed an orange, but I know it's nice."

The same day they rowed the boat a few miles up a small but deep and very clear river that emptied into the Mississippi from the east. Their object was to fish, the greater river itself being too muddy for the succulent kind that they wished. The incomparable "Galleon" had also been supplied with fishing tackle, and in a short time they caught a splendid supply of black bass and perch, which proved to be very fine and toothsome. As their boat floated back from the smaller stream into the Mississippi, Shif'less Sol heaved a deep sigh.

"What's the matter, Sol?" asked Paul.

"I wuz thinkin' o' Christopher Columbus," replied Shif'less Sol. "Ef it wuzn't that I'd be dead now, I wish I'd been with him. I do enjoy sailin' on an' discoverin' lands an' waters that ain't yet got no name to 'em. It looks funny to me that we wuzn't discovered sooner, when we've always been here, but Columbus has all my respeck an' admiration 'cause he done it when the others didn't."

"That shorely wuz a man," said Tom Ross, his eyes lighting up. "I've heard the tale how he kep' tryin' an' tryin' to git a ship, an' couldn't, an' at last the Spanish lady pulled off her earrings an' finger rings an' bracelets an' said: 'Here, Chris, these, these are my jewels, take 'em, trade 'em fur the best ship thar is in the market, an' discover Ameriky.' An' then he got his ship, an' kep' sailin' on an' on, an' the sailors they began to git skeered an' then more skeered. They're afraid they're goin' to drop off on the other side uv the world an' they go to Chris an' say: 'Thar ain't no sech continent ez Ameriky an' we ain't goin' to discover it. We're goin' to turn right 'round an' go straight back to Spain.'

"Chris says in the knowin'est manner like a father talkin' to his child. 'Thar is sech a continent ez Ameriky, an' it's a big one, too. It's layin' over thar straight to the west, an' it's full uv big lakes an' big rivers an' big mountains an' red Injuns that fight with bows an' arrers, and b'ars an' buffalers an' deer an' panthers an' all things fine, jest waitin' fur us. Thar's whar we're goin'.' And the sailors say more uppish than ever: No, we ain't, we ain't goin' to discover Ameriky, thar ain't no sech place, we're goin' right back to Spain.' Then a kinder funny look comes into Chris's eye. He reaches fur his long rifle, an' he draws a bead on the foremost uv them sailors, the feller that speaks fur 'em all, an' he says, droppin' that fatherly manner an' speakin' up sharp an' snappy: 'I reckin we're either goin' to discover Ameriky, or go right back to Spain, which is it?'

"An' that foremost sailor, the one that speaks fur 'em all, sees the funny look in Chris's eye, an' he thinks, too, he kin see clean down the barrel uv that long rifle to whar the bullet is layin', an' he answers right off: 'We're goin' to discover Ameriky'; an' shore enough they did, this fine, big continent, full uv big lakes an' big rivers an' big mountains an' red Injuns that fight with bows an' arrers an' b'ars and buffalers an' deer an' panthers an' all things fine."

"I didn't know Tom Ross had sech a gift o' gab," said Shif'less Sol. "He stirs me all up, he makes me want to hev some lady buy a ship fur me an' start me out to discoverin' continents. Do you think, Paul, thar's any lady who would sell her earrings an' finger rings fur me ez that Spanish one did fur Columbus?"

"But think, Sol, what a chance you've got whether there is or not," said Henry Ware. "America is discovered but not much of it is explored. There's enough here to keep you roaming about for the next fifty or sixty years."

"That's so," said the shiftless one brightening up. "What am I growlin' about, when here's a river, mebbe ten thousand miles long that we know next to nothin' 'bout, an' buffalers an' b'ars an' panthers an' deer to shoot, an' red Injuns to fight ez long ez I live. After all, we're shorely mighty lucky to live at the time we do, ez I've said before. Do you think thar'll ever be any times hereafter as interestin' ez ourn, Paul?"

"I can't say," replied Paul with a smile, "but they're not likely to be as interesting to us."

They went on their way, and the air became still warmer. Moreover, it grew heavy and oppressive, and the spring rains were resumed with great violence. They had worked meanwhile on their tarpaulin, enlarging and strengthening it with skins which they had allowed to dry on the boat, and they rested, sheltered and secure, as they floated along.

Although Frenchmen had gone up and down the river long before, they felt like genuine explorers. So little was known of the mighty stream that they regarded every stretch and turn with keen interest. It was not beautiful now, a vast, brown flood flowing between low and changing shores, but in its size and loneliness it had a majesty peculiarly its own.

Wild geese and wild ducks flew over the river in abundance, and they were so little used to man that often they passed near "The Galleon." The fowling pieces proved useful again, as the five were able to sit in comfort on their boat and shoot geese and ducks for their needs. Some were of kinds that they had never seen before, but all proved to be good eating, and they were welcome.

Jim Hart also exercised his ingenuity in a very useful manner. In the prow of the boat, but under the tarpaulin, he spread a layer of mud about two inches thick. Protected from the rain, it soon dried, forming a hard, impervious, brick-like covering for the bottom of the boat, and upon this he built a small smothered fire of dry sticks, a supply of which they kept in the boat. Here Jim, with all the skill and delicacy of a gastronomic artist, would cook their wild ducks and wild geese, and, considering the limited area and resources for the exercise of his favorite occupation, he did extremely well. Nor was it any longer necessary for them to run in to the shore and worry in the dripping forest with wet wood.

"It ain't like that stove we built the time we wuz on the ha'nted islan'," Long Jim would say, "but it's a heap sight better than nothin."

"It shorely is," said Shif'less Sol. "You ain't much account for anything, Jim, but you kin cook a leetle bit."

Long Jim smiled contentedly.



CHAPTER VIII

THE CHATEAU OF BEAULIEU

They noticed one day a high bluff shooting up on the eastern bank and running along for some distance. It was clothed in dense green forest, and it was rather a welcome break in the monotony of the low shores.

"A big city will be built there some day," said the prophetic Paul.[B]

"Now, Paul, why in tarnation do you say that?" exclaimed Tom Ross.

"Why, because it's such a good place. It's a high hill on a great river so well suited to navigation, and it has a vast, rich country behind it."

But Tom Ross shook his head.

"Seems to me, Paul," he said, "that you're bitin' off a lot more'n you can chaw. Things that are to happen a hundred years from now ain't never happenin' fur me."

But Paul merely smiled and held to his opinion.

On the following day they tied up at a point, where the river began a sharp and wide curve around a long, narrow peninsula. It was just about dark when they stopped and, as usual, they were able to run the boat into dense foliage at the margin, where not even the keenest eye could see it.

"We've got plenty of goose and duck left over from dinner," said Henry, "so I'm thinking, Jim, that you'd better not light the fire on your bricks to-night."

"All right," replied Jim, "I don't mind restin'. I feel about ez lazy ez Sol Hyde looks."

But Henry Ware had another and more important thing in mind. His was the keenest eye of them all, and just before landing he had noticed to the southward and on the other side of the peninsula a faint, dark line against the edge of the sunset. Few, even with an eye good enough to see it, would have taken it for anything but a wisp of cloud, but the physical sense of Henry Ware, so acute that it bordered upon intuition, was not deceived.

"Sol," he said after they had eaten a little, "let's walk across this neck of land and explore a bit."

"It's a dark night to be traveling," said Paul. But Henry only laughed. Tom Ross may have had his suspicions, but he did not deem it worth while to say anything. He knew that Henry and Shif'less Sol were quite competent to achieve any task that they might be undertaking.

Henry and Sol strolled carelessly into the bush, but before they had gone a dozen steps their whole manner changed. Each became eager and alert.

"What is it, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol. "What have you seed?"

"Smoke! the smoke of a camp fire and it's on the other side of this neck. I think it's the camp of Alvarez. He must have been going more slowly than we thought."

"We'll soon find out," said Shif'less Sol, as they advanced.

But the task was not as easy as they had thought. The peninsula was very low and the greater part of it had been overflowed recently. Their feet, no matter how lightly they stepped, sank in the mire, and when they pulled them out again the mud emitted a sticky sigh. An owl perched in a tree, high above the marsh, began to hoot dismally, and Shif'less Sol uttered a growl.

"I wish we had the big, dry woods o' Kentucky to go through," he whispered to Henry. "I ain't much o' a mud-crawler."

"But as we haven't got those big, dry woods," Henry whispered back, "we'll have to crawl, creep, or walk through the mud."

It was about two miles across the neck, and as they went very slowly for fear of making noise, it took them a full hour to reach the other side, or to come near enough to see what might be there. Then they found that Henry's belief, or rather intuition, was right.

They could see quite well from the dense covert. All the Spanish boats were tied up at the shore and two or three fires had been built for the purposes of cooking. The soldiers in their picturesque costumes lounged about. The hum of conversation and now and then a laugh arose.

Henry soon marked Francisco Alvarez. The Spanish leader sat on a little heap of boughs on the highest and dryest spot in the camp, and all who approached him did so with every sign of respect—if they spoke it was hat in hand.

The firelight fell in a red blaze across the face of Francisco Alvarez and revealed every feature in minute detail to the keen eyes in the covert. It was a thin, haughty face, clear-cut and cruel, but just now it's air was that of satisfaction, as if in the opinion of Francisco Alvarez all things were going well with his plans. Henry believed that he could guess his thoughts. "He thinks that the Spanish are already committed against us and that he and Braxton Wyatt with a force of Spaniards and the tribes will yet destroy our settlements in Kentucky."

Thinking of Braxton Wyatt he looked for him and, as he looked, the renegade came from a point near the shore toward the commander. It was evident that Wyatt had been faring well. His frontier dress had been partly replaced with gay Spanish garments. He now wore a cap with a feather in it, and a velvet doublet. He, too, had a most complacent look.

Wyatt approached Alvarez and the commander courteously invited him to a seat on the hillock near him. When he took the seat a soldier brought the renegade a cup of wine, and he drank, first lifting the cup toward Alvarez as if he drank a toast to the success of the alliance. There could be no doubt about the perfect understanding of the two; and Henry's anger rose. It was impossible to set a limit to what a ruthless and determined man like Francisco Alvarez might do.

Wyatt rose presently after a nod to the commander and walked among the soldiers. He seemed to have no particular object in view and his strollings brought him near to the edge of the swampy forest.

"Perhaps he's spying about, and will come into the woods where we are," whispered Henry. "Maybe he has those maps and plans upon him, and it would be a great thing to get them. I don't believe he could make a new set soon."

"It's a risky thing to try," said Shif'less Sol, "but ef he comes in here, an' you think it the best thing to do, I'm ready to help."

The two crouched a little lower and remained breathless. Braxton Wyatt strolled on. He was making a sort of vague inspection of the camp, but he was really thinking more about the great triumph that he saw ahead. Since he had turned renegade, leaving his own white race to join the Indians, a thing that was sometimes done, he had been stung by many defeats and he wished a great revenge that would pour oil upon all these wounds.

A bad nature grows worse with failure. Seeking to injure his former people and failing at every turn, Braxton Wyatt hated them more and more all the time. His wrath was particularly directed against the five who had been such great instruments in sending his careful plans astray. His scheme with the Indian league had failed chiefly through them, but he felt that he could now come with a Spanish force that would prove irresistible. That was why he glowed with internal warmth and pride. The settlements would be destroyed and he, in fact, would be the destroyer.

Braxton Wyatt entered the edge of the woods, still occupied with the cruel triumph that was to be his. He did not notice that the foliage was gradually shutting out the firelight. Presently he saw, or believed that he saw, a shadowy but terrible figure. It was the figure of the one whom he dreaded most on earth.

It was but a glimpse of a form, seen through the bushes, but Wyatt's blood turned cold in every vein. He uttered a half-choked cry, and running back through the bushes, sprang into the firelight. Two or three Spanish soldiers looked at him in amazement, but he was not a coward, and he had pride of a kind. As soon as he leaped back into the firelight he felt that he had made a fool of himself. Henry Ware could not have been there—he and his comrades had been left behind long ago. Coming suddenly out of his thoughts, he had been deceived in the dark by a bush and imagination had done the rest. Yes, it was only fancy!

"A rattlesnake! I nearly trod on him," he said in broken Spanish words that he had picked up, and then walked in as careless a manner as he could assume toward the mound where Francisco Alvarez sat. But he could not wholly control himself—the shock had been too great—and his body yet trembled. He did not know it, but the pallor of his face showed through the tan, and Alvarez noticed it.

"You have had a fright, Senor Wyatt," he said in his precise, cold English. "What is it?"

"Not a fright," replied Wyatt in tones that he sought to make indifferent, "but a start. I nearly trod on a rattlesnake that lay coiled ready to strike, and I got away just in time."

The Spaniard regarded him with a penetrating look, but the chilly blue eyes expressed nothing. Yet Francisco Alvarez thought that a bold woodsman like Braxton Wyatt would not show so much fear after a harmless passage with any kind of a snake.

"Do you think the five, the party that you said were so much to be dreaded, are still following us?" he asked presently.

The pallor showed again for a moment through the tan in Braxton Wyatt's face, but he answered again as carelessly as he could:

"It may be. I hate them, but I do not deny that they are bold and resourceful. They have a good boat, and they may follow; but what harm could they do?"

"As I told you, they might go before Bernardo Galvez, our Governor General at New Orleans, and spoil the pretty plan that you and I have formed. Galvez is—as he calls himself—a Liberal. He would help these rebels and fight England. How can a Spaniard lend himself to the cause of Republican rebels and injure monarchy? Cannot he foresee, cannot he look ahead a little and tell what rebel success means? It would in the end be as great a blow to Spain as to England. If Kaintock is permitted to grow she will threaten Louisiana. These men in their buckskins are daring and dangerous and we must attend to them!"

The Spaniard clenched his hands in anger, and the blue light of his eyes was singularly cruel.

"Galvez is a fool," he continued. "He is not allowing the English to trade at New Orleans, but he is giving the American rebels full chance. He his allowed one, Pollock, Oliver Pollock, to establish a base there. This Pollock has formed a company of New York, Philadelphia, and Boston merchants, and they are sending arms and ammunition in fleets of canoes up the Mississippi and then up the Ohio to Fort Pitt, where they are unloaded and then taken eastward by land for the use of the rebels. A fleet of these canoes is to start about the time we arrive in New Orleans."

"We might meet it," suggested Braxton Wyatt, "and say that it attacked us."

The Spaniard smiled.

"The idea is not bad," he said, "and it could be done. We could sink their whole fleet of canoes with the pretty little cannon that we carry, and we could prove that they began the attack. But I do not choose to run the risk of compromising myself just yet. There is a more glorious enterprise afoot. Hark you, Senor Wyatt."

Braxton Wyatt leaned forward and listened attentively. Francisco Alvarez had drank of wine that evening, and his blood was warm. He, too, dreamed a great dream.

"You are a man of discretion and you have helped me. I speak to you as one devoted to my cause. If you should but breathe what I say to another I would first swear that it was a lie, and then deliver you to these five gentlemen, former friends of yours, who would tear you in pieces."

Braxton Wyatt shivered again, and the Spaniard, seeing the shiver, laughed and was convinced.

"Why should I betray you?" said the renegade. "I have no motive to do so and every possible motive to keep faith."

"I know it," replied Alvarez, "and that is why I speak. It is to your interest to be faithful to me and when my enterprise succeeds, as it certainly will, you shall have your proper share of the reward. Bernardo Galvez, as you know, is the Governor General of Louisiana, and his father is the Viceroy of Mexico. They are powerful, very powerful, and I am only a commander of troops under the son, but I, too, am powerful. My family is one of the first in Spain. It sits upon the very steps of the throne and more than once royal blood has entered our veins. I was a favorite at the court and I have many friends there. The King might be persuaded that Bernardo Galvez is not a fit representative of the royal interests in Louisiana."

Francisco Alvarez leaned a little forward and his blue eyes, usually so chill, sparkled now with fire. He was speaking of what lay next to his heart. Braxton Wyatt, full of shrewdness and perception, understood at once.

"Bernardo Galvez might give way as Governor General of Louisiana," said the renegade, "to be succeeded by a better man, one who had the real interests of Spain at heart, one who would refuse to give the slightest aid to rebels, rebels who would strike against a throne!"

The Spaniard looked pleased.

"I see that you are a man of penetration, Senor Wyatt," he said, "and I am fortunate in having you as a lieutenant. You have divined my thought. I work, not for the interests of a man whose name has been mentioned by neither of us, but for the true interests of Spain and the divine right of kings. What is this miserable Kaintock which is springing up? We will crush it out as you would have crushed the rattlesnake! The people of New Orleans and Louisiana hate rebels! Why should they not? It is the rebels who in time will take Louisiana from us if they can, not England."

Braxton Wyatt smiled. He was delighted to the very center of his cunning heart. His plans and those of Alvarez marched well together. Each strengthened the other.

"I am with you to the end," he said.

"The end will be a glorious triumph," said the Spaniard in emphatic tones.

Meanwhile Henry and Shif'less Sol still lay in the thicket. Their project to seize Braxton Wyatt and strip him of the maps and plans had been defeated. Henry knew that the renegade had caught a glimpse of him in the dusk and among the thick bushes and he expected an immediate alarm. But when Wyatt raised none, he and Sol lingered. They saw the renegade go to the Spaniard's side on the little mound, and they saw the two talk long and earnestly, but, of course, they could not understand a word of what was said.

"They look mighty pleased with one another," whispered Shif'less Sol, "so it's bound to mean that they're up to the worst sort o' mischief."

"Yes," replied Henry, "and that mischief is sure to be aimed at our people."

They waited about a half hour longer and then picked their way back through the marsh to their own side of the peninsula.

It was now very late and Paul and Jim Hart were sound asleep in the boat, but Tom Ross was keeping vigilant guard.

"Wuz it them?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Henry. "They're camped on the other side of this neck, and Braxton Wyatt is still with them. There's big mischief afoot and we've got to keep on following, waiting our chance, which, I think, will come."

They did not start until noon the next day, in order to give the Spaniards a longer lead, and they rounded the neck of land very slowly lest they run into a trap. But when the river lay straight before them again they beheld nothing. They passed the point where the Spaniards had camped and saw the dead coals of their fires, but they did not stop, continuing instead their steady progress down stream.

It now grew hot upon the water. They had come many hundreds of miles since the start, and they were in a warmer climate. The character of the vegetation was changing. The cypress and the magnolia became frequent on the banks, and now and then they saw great, drooping live oaks. The soil seemed to grow softer and the water was more deeply permeated with mud. Although the flood was gone, the river spread out in places to a vast width, and even at its narrowest it was a gigantic stream. Other great, lazy rivers poured in their volume from east and west. Narrow, deep inlets, half-hidden in vegetation, extended from either side. There were bayous, although the five had not yet heard the name, and many of them swarmed with fish.

The warm air was heavy and languorous and now Shif'less Sol confessed.

"I'm gittin' too much o' it, even fur a lazy man," he said. "'Pears to me I'm always wantin' to sleep. Now, I like about sixteen hours sleepin' out o' the twenty-four, but when it comes to keepin' awake jest long enough to eat three meals a day I ain't in favor o' it."

"It must be a rich country, though," said Tom Ross. "No wonder them Spaniards want to keep it."

That day they passed at some distance three canoes containing Indians, but the canoes showed no wish to come near and investigate. Henry said that the Indians in them looked sprawling and dirty, unlike the alert, clean-limbed natives of the North.

"They probably belong," said Paul, "to the Natchez tribe who were beaten into submission long ago by the French, and who doubtless lack energy anyhow."

The Indian canoes went lazily on, and soon were lost to sight. Now a serious problem arose. They were approaching the settled parts of Louisiana. It is true, it was only the thinnest fringe of white people extending along either shore of the river a short distance above New Orleans, but they were coming to a region in which they would be noticed, and they might have to explain their presence before they wished to do so. Nor had they found any opportunity to capture Braxton Wyatt and his maps and plans. Nevertheless, they hung so closely on the trail of Alvarez that every night and morning they could see the smoke of his camp fire.

They stopped one evening in a cove of the river, sheltered by great mournful cypresses, and Henry and Shif'less Sol went out again to scrutinize the Spanish camp. They returned before midnight with unusual news. Alvarez with his whole force had turned from the Mississippi and had gone up a bayou about four miles. There he had landed some of his small cannon and stores at a rude wharf, and showed all the signs of making a stay, but whether short or long they could not tell.

"Alvarez must have a place, a plantation, I believe they call it, near here," said Paul intuitively, "and he's going to stop at it. As he wants to get Spain into a war with us he could plot a lot of mischief in a house of his own away from New Orleans."

"Of course, that's it," said Henry with conviction. "Now if we could only capture Braxton Wyatt and then carry off the fellow and his maps and plans with us, it would be a great stroke. It might make Alvarez quit his wicked plot."

Henry and Shif'less Sol slept briefly, and rising before daylight, went forth to investigate again. When they arrived at the edge of the bayou, they saw that the work of removal had been resumed already. All the boats had been tied up securely, and a mongrel lot of new men had joined the Spanish force, shiftless and half-civilized Houma and Natchez Indians, coal black negroes, some from the West Indies and some from Africa, Acadians, and fierce-looking adventurers from Europe. Most of them seemed to be laborers, however, and they worked with the arms and baggage taken from the boats. Among these laborers were several stalwart negro women with blazing red handkerchiefs tied around their heads.

Alvarez came off one of the boats, followed by Braxton Wyatt. The Spanish commander had attired himself with great care, and he was a really splendid figure in his glittering uniform and plumed hat. His gold-hilted small sword swung by his side. He bore himself as a lord proprietor, and in fact he was such at this moment. He was about to go, surrounded by his retainers, to his own house on a huge grant of land made to him by the Spanish King—Spanish kings granted lands very freely in America to favorites, and the relatives of favorites.

Braxton Wyatt also showed pride. Was he not the most trusted friend of an able man who was dreaming a great dream, a dream that would come true? The last remnants of his border attire had disappeared and he, too, was dressed wholly as a Spanish officer, though by no means so splendidly as his chief.

Alvarez addressed a few words to a man in civilian attire, evidently his overseer, a dark, heavy West India Spaniard who carried a pistol in his sash, and then advanced through the rabble, which quickly fell back on either side to let him pass.

Horses were in waiting for Alvarez, Wyatt, and several others, and mounting, they rode off, Henry and Shif'less Sol watching from the bush as well as they could, and following. The way of the officers led through a great plantation but partially redeemed from the ancient forest. Cane and grain fields were on either side of the path, and presently they approached a large house of only one story, built of wood, and surrounded by a wide veranda supported with posts at regular intervals. This house was built around a court in the center of which was a clear pool.

Henry and the shiftless one saw Alvarez and his company dismount and enter the house. They noticed others who approached on foot, but who did not enter, obviously men who did not dare to enter unless asked. Among them was a thin, middle-aged Natchez Indian, whose extraordinary, feline face had won for him the name of The Cat. Henry particularly observed this man, whose manner was in accordance with his appearance and name. Like those they had seen in the canoes he had a hangdog, shiftless look, different from the bold warrior of the more northerly forests.

The two did not remain long. So many people were about that they were likely to be seen, and they returned through the forest to the cypress cove in which "The Galleon" lay hidden. Here, it was agreed that they should go forth later in the day on another tour of inspection, re-inforced by Tom Ross, while Long Jim and Paul should remain to guard the boat and their precious stores.

When the three had gone, Long Jim sat on the edge of the boat and looked around at the sluggish waters of the bayou, the sad cypresses, and the drooping live oaks. An ugly water snake twined its slimy length just within the edge of the bayou, and the odor of the still forest about them was heavy and oppressive.

Long Jim took a long, comprehensive look, and then heaved a deep sigh.

"What's the matter?" asked Paul.

"I don't think the country and the climate agree with me," replied Long Jim lugubriously. "I wuz never so fur south afore, an' I'm a delicate plant, I am. I need the snow and the north wind to keep me fresh an' bloomin'. All this gits on me. My lungs don't feel clean. I'm longin' fur them big, fine woods up in our country, whar you may run agin a b'ar, but whar you ain't likely to step on a snake afore you see it."

"Give me the temperate climate, too," said Paul, "but we've come on a great errand, Jim, and we've come a long way. It's good, too, to see new things."

"So it is, but I don't like to set here waitin' in this swamp. Think I'll stretch my legs a little on the bank thar, ef it's firm enough to hold me up, though I do have an abidin' distrust uv most uv the land hereabouts."

Jim leaped upon the bank which upheld him, and stretched his long legs with obvious relief.

"A boat's mighty easy," he said, "but now an' then walkin's good."

He strode up and down two or three times and then he stopped. He had heard a sound, faint, it is true, but enough to arrest the attention of Long Jim. Then he went on with a look of disgust. It was surely one of those snakes again!

He was about to pass a great cypress when a pair of long, brown arms reached out and grasped him by the throat. Long Jim was a strong man and, despite his early advantage, it would have gone hard with the owner of the arms, none other than The Cat himself, but three or four men, springing from the covert, threw themselves upon him.

Paul heard the first sounds of the contest and sprang up. He saw Long Jim struggling in the grasp of many hands, and snatching at the first weapon that lay near, he sprang to the bank, rushing to the assistance of his comrade.

A shout of derisive laughter greeted Paul. Long Jim had been thrown down and held fast and the lad was confronted by none other than Alvarez himself, while Braxton Wyatt, smiling in malignant triumph, stood just behind him.

"Well, my young man of Kaintock," said Francisco Alvarez in his precise English, "we have taken you and at least one of your brother thieves. In good time we'll have the others, too. It was an evil day when you ventured on my plantation so near such a wonderful tracker as The Cat. Why, he detected them instinctively when your comrades ventured near us!"

The eyes of the stooping Natchez Indian flashed at the compliment but, in a moment, he resumed his immobility. All the blood rushed to Paul's face, and he could not contain his anger.

"Thief! how dare you call me a thief!" he said.

"This is my boat before me," replied Alvarez. "You stole it."

"Not so," replied Paul. "We captured it. You seized and held me a prisoner when I came to your camp on a friendly mission, and we took it in fair reprisal and for a good purpose. Moreover, you are plotting with that vile renegade there to destroy our people in Kentucky!"

"You are a thief," repeated Francisco Alvarez calmly, "you stole my boat. Why, the very sword that you hold in your hand is mine, stolen from me."

Paul glanced down. In his haste and excitement he had snatched up one of the beautiful small swords when he leaped from the boat, but he had been unconscious of it. He was yet free and he held a sword in his hand. One of the men who was holding Jim Hart suddenly kicked him to make him keep quiet, and Paul's wrath blazed up under the double incentive of the blow and the sneering face of Francisco Alvarez.

The lad rushed forward, sword in hand, and one of the soldiers raised his musket. Alvarez pushed the weapon down.

"Since this young rebel wants to fight, and has a stolen sword of mine in his hand," he said, "he can fight with me. I will give him that honor."

So speaking Alvarez drew his own sword and held up the blade to the light until it glittered. A shout of approval arose from the soldiers, but Long Jim cried out:

"It ain't fair! It ain't right to take one uv your kind uv weepins an' attack him! It's murder! Let me loose an' I'll fight you with rifles."

"Have you got that ruffian securely bound?" asked Alvarez.

"Yes," replied one of his men.

"Then I'll teach this youth a lesson, as I said."

Paul had stopped in his rush, and suddenly he became cool and collected.

"Don't you be afraid for me, Jim," he said. "I can take care of myself, and I'll fight him."

Alvarez laughed derisively and the others echoed the laugh of their master, but Paul held up his own sword, also, until it glittered in the light. Every nerve and muscle became taut, and the blood went back from his brain, leaving it cool and clear.

"Come on," he said to Alvarez. "I'm ready."

They stood in a level glade, and the two faced each other, the sunshine lighting up all the area enclosed by the cypresses. Around them stood Braxton Wyatt and the followers of Alvarez.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote B: It is probable that the bluff, indicated by Paul, is the one on which the present city of Memphis stands.]



CHAPTER IX

PAUL AND THE SPANIARD

Francisco Alvarez never suffered from the vice of humility. While he was planning to make himself Governor General of Louisiana he thought also that the selection was a most admirable one. Nor would he have condescended now to cross a blade with this boy from the backwoods, but his pride had been bitterly hurt by the deeds of Paul and his comrades. Such presumption must be punished, and the punishment must be of a humiliating kind.

The Spaniard took the point of his sword between his thumb and forefinger and bent the blade a little. The steel was flexible and true. Then he put himself on guard, and physically he was a splendid figure of a man, tall, compact, and obviously skilled with his weapon.

Long Jim Hart writhed again in his bonds. His heart yearned over Paul, his young comrade.

"Stop it! stop it!" he cried. "It's murder, I say, fur a man used to them weepins to set upon a boy."

"Shall we gag this fellow, Captain?" asked Braxton Wyatt, who enjoyed the scene.

"No," replied Alvarez, scornfully. "Let him make as much noise as he pleases."

Paul heard Long Jim's second protest, but now he did not answer. He was intently watching Alvarez. He had read the look in the eye of the Spanish leader, and he knew that Alvarez not only intended to punish him, but also to make that process as mortifying as possible. But Paul was yet unafraid. Although not as large and powerful as Henry, he was nevertheless a very strong youth, used to the open air and exercise, and wonderfully flexible and alert. He held the sword lightly but firmly with the point well forward, ready for any movement by his antagonist.

Alvarez came a step nearer. His sword flashed, but Paul dextrously caught the stroke upon his own weapon, and the blade glanced off, ringing. Alvarez was surprised. He had seen from Paul's position and the manner in which he held his weapon that he knew something about the sword, but he was not prepared for such a skillful parry.

"Good, Paul! Good!" cried Long Jim, a sudden hope bounding up in his heart. "Go in! Trim him! Slice off his mustache for him!"

Alvarez was stung by the taunt. Braxton Wyatt made an angry movement toward Long Jim, but the Spaniard again waved him back. His own pride would not permit him to silence the taunter in such a way. No, he would silence him in another manner. But the cry of Long Jim had its effect upon Paul, too. It aroused him to a supreme effort. He leaped forward suddenly, thrust quick as lightning, and then leaped away. The Spaniard had parried, but the blade nevertheless cut the cloth of his brilliant coat, making a long gash. The cut was not in the flesh, only in the cloth, but Alvarez was stung by it and the sting became the more bitter when Long Jim cried out:

"Hooray, Paul! That wuz somethin' like! He thought he wuz goin' to murder you, but he ain't!"

Alvarez, furious, rushed in and Paul, keen of eye and alert of muscle, fought on the defensive. Lucky for him now that he remembered all the lessons taught to him by the old soldier of the great French and Indian war, and lucky for him, too, that he had lived such a temperate life! Steel met steel and the ringing sound filled the little glade. The others were silent, leaning a little forward, lips slightly apart. A new element of uncertainty had come into the combat, and even Braxton Wyatt shared in the excitement that had been aroused by it.

Alvarez uttered a cry of satisfaction and then stepped back. Paul stood still while the blood came slowly from a cut across his left arm and dyed his sleeve. He had thrown out the arm just in time to ward off a thrust at his heart, but he received a slash in its place. The pain was considerable but Paul scarcely felt it; his mind was too intent on the crisis, and his head was yet clear and cool.

"Never you mind, Paul! Never you mind!" cried Long Jim. "'Twas only a lucky sweep uv his! you'll git him yet."

Paul gave his informal second a smile of confidence, for second he was with his encouraging tongue, even though bound and helpless otherwise.

Paul suddenly rushed in, struck swiftly, and, although the blow was parried, he thrust again so quickly that his blade passed inside the guard of Alvarez, pierced through his doublet, and wounded him in the side. Mad with pain and rage Alvarez struck furiously, but Paul caught the blow so skillfully that the Spaniard's sword broke in his hand.

Long Jim shouted with delight.

"You've beat him, Paul! you've beat him!" he cried. "Go in now and trim his mustache right off his face!"

Braxton Wyatt struck him a blow on the cheek.

"Shut up, will you!" he cried.

Paul, sword in hand, turned away. He would not cut down an unarmed man, and some strain of chivalry hidden beneath the Spaniard's ambition and cruelty recognized the boy's nobility. He stepped aside and rebuked Braxton Wyatt for striking Long Jim. Then he took off his doublet and one of the men bound up his wound, which was painful but not at all dangerous. His heart was full of rage and chagrin, but he did not show either.

"You have done well with the sword," he said to Paul, "I admit it, and I am in a position to know. But you must surrender it, and come as my prisoner. Your sword can be no defense against the bullets of my soldiers."

Paul yielded his weapon. It would have been folly to resist when the soldiers stood close by, loaded guns in hand, but he felt, nevertheless, a deep satisfaction. He had performed a deed of valor, worthy of Shif'less Sol or Henry, and he proudly took his place by the side of the other prisoner, Long Jim. The wound in his arm had already stopped bleeding.

"I didn't know it was in you, Paul," whispered Long Jim, "but I never had anything in my life do me more good. A lot uv wicked hopes wuz disapp'inted when you give him that slash in the side, an' then broke his sword."

"I did better than I expected," replied Paul briefly, "but the result is not likely to endear us to Captain Alvarez."

"Ef I'd been keepin' the right kind uv a watch," said Long Jim, "this wouldn't have happened. We could a' got 'The Gall-yun' out in the stream an' away."

"No, Jim," replied Paul, "it was no fault of yours. Cunning was at work. They had located us in some manner and they prepared a surprise."

Alvarez and Braxton Wyatt went on ahead. Paul and Jim followed in the midst of a strong guard of soldiers. The road led again through corn and grain fields where cultivation was making a struggle against the luxuriance of a semi-tropical wilderness, although with small success, as yet.

A stooping figure with a hideous, feline face shambled up by the side of Paul, and purposely struck his elbow against the wound upon his arm. It was The Cat, but Paul, whose arms had been left unbound, whirled, without hesitation, and struck the Natchez in the face.

The Cat staggered but he promptly drew a knife and Paul might have been slain, but a soldier knocked the knife from the Indian's hand and rebuked him severely. The soldier was Luiz, a Spaniard of height and strength. He had fared badly at the hands of the five, but his life had also been saved by one of them, and he was not ungrateful. He did not mean that these two prisoners should be treated any worse than the captain ordered. He compelled The Cat to fall back, and he smiled pleasantly at Paul and Long Jim.

"I'll take it that we've got one friend in this crowd," said Long Jim.

"Yes," said Paul, "and we'll need all we can get. Alvarez seems to have a big place here, a sort of feudal estate."

It seemed to Paul that he had come into another world; the difference between this and Kentucky was so enormous. There, in the little settlements, every man spoke his mind and the life was all freedom. Here, fear and suspicion abounded, there were degrees of importance, and Alvarez was an autocrat who could make or mar as he pleased. It was an atmosphere heavy to Paul's lungs, and, like Long Jim, he longed for the great forests of the Ohio River country. Behind the chateau were some low, heavy out buildings of logs, and Paul and Long Jim were thrust into one of these, the door being fastened behind them with a huge padlock. Alvarez detailed Luiz, who seemed to rank a little above his fellows, and three others to keep watch and then, feeling that he held his prisoners securely, the commander went into the chateau. But he stopped at the door and ordered that a gold coin and as much rum as he could drink should be given to The Cat.

"It was due to his wonderful instinct and cunning," he said, "that we captured these fellows and recovered my boat. It was an important achievement."

Braxton Wyatt looked with intense interest at the chateau, which was unlike anything that he had ever seen before. It was a strange compound of luxury and roughness. The walls were of wood, often ill-hewn, but several pieces of beautifully-woven tapestry hung upon them. Some of the floors were entirely bare, others were covered partly by Eastern rugs. Carved and curved weapons of many lands adorned the walls, and in one room were a mandolin and guitar.

Alvarez led the way to an inner court or patio, waving back all except Braxton Wyatt. The patio was large, with little beds of flowers in the corners, and a pool of pure, fresh water in the center. The pool was fed by a little stream that ran from a brook near the chateau, and it was drained by a similar stream.

The patio was enclosed by a narrow, interior veranda, and the veranda held deep cane chairs, one of which Alvarez took, waving Braxton Wyatt to another.

The Spanish commander with a great air of relief and luxury leaned back in his cane chair. He loved the south and the sunshine to which he was born, and, although bold and hardy, he had little liking for the great, cold forests of the North. He clapped his hand and a servant brought glasses and wine. Alvarez filled the glasses himself and handed the first courteously to Wyatt.

"Drink," he said, "I am glad that expedition is over. The Governor General wished me to go, to explore, to make treaties, and to secure our title, but the wilderness, though interesting, grows monotonous."

"It is comfortable here," said Braxton Wyatt, stretching himself in the great cane chair. He was entirely recovered from his own wound and he appreciated the luxury of the place.

"Yes, it is indeed grateful to the tired body and limbs. I could feel a complete sense of rest and victory, if it were not for the sting of the wound that boy gave me. Who could have thought that I should be defeated with the sword by a boy from the woods of Kaintock?"

The Spaniard frowned and narrowed his cruel blue eyes. Braxton Wyatt murmured some words of sympathy, but in his heart he was not sorry because of the incident. He thought that Alvarez at times had patronized him too much, had assumed too lofty an air, and he was willing to see him suffer mortification. Moreover, he could use the hurt pride of Alvarez as an additional incitement against the five whom he hated.

"You told me once," said Alvarez "that the three comrades of the two, the three whom we have not captured, are much to be dreaded, and we have had proof of it?"

"It is so."

"But what can they do now?"

"But little," answered the renegade. "It was farther north in the great wilderness, where they are so much at home, that they could do us harm. Here within the fringe of the French and Spanish settlements, they will be hampered too much."

"Yes, I should think so," said Alvarez thoughtfully. "As you perhaps surmise, I am going to stay here indefinitely, Wyatt. This place of mine, Beaulieu, I call it, is at a suitable distance from New Orleans and I am an absolute monarch while I remain. Here, on the border, I am as a military commander, practically lord of life and death, and on one excuse or another I can hold the troops as long as I please."

"Which seems to me to be very convenient for all our plans," said Braxton Wyatt.

The Spaniard smiled, but speedily contracted his brows again. The cut that Paul had given him was hurting.

"I should like to punish that boy in some spectacular manner," he said. "I should want him to be humiliated in the presence of others as I was."

Suddenly he raised his head, which he had bent in thought, and his lips curled in laughter under his yellow mustache.

"I have it!" he exclaimed. "An idea! Since young Kaintock can use the sword I shall give him a chance to do it again! Oh, I shall give him every opportunity!"

Then he leaned over and spoke in lower tones to Braxton Wyatt. The renegade's eyes lighted up with delight.

"The very thing!" he exclaimed. "I'd have it done at once!"

Paul and Long Jim Hart meanwhile were resting in their log prison. Jim's arms had been unbound and, after rubbing them freely, he said that the circulation was restored. Then the two turned their attention to their prison. Paul surmised that it had been built as a tool house or store house, but at present it was empty save for himself and his comrade, Long Jim.

The only light came from two little windows made merely by cutting out a section of log and quite too small to admit a human body. They tried the door but it was so strong that they could not shake it. Then Long Jim lay calmly down on the floor.

"Paul," he said, "I don't believe I wuz ever fastened up in sech a little place ez this afore. Ef I stretch out my legs my feet will hit the wall over thar, an' the place is so close an' hot I don't breathe good."

"We'll have to stand it for a while," said Paul philosophically.

"That's so," said Long Jim, "I don't s'pose they mean to murder us ez we're not at real war with the Spaniards, so I wonder what they mean to do."

Paul shook his head. But he understood better than Long Jim the dangers of their situation. He knew the temper and character of Alvarez, and he knew, too, that at this distant chateau he was omnipotent. Alvarez was bent on making war upon the settlers in Kentucky, and nothing would stop him.

"Henry an' Sol an' Tom are free," said Long Jim. "They'll git us out, shore."

They remained a long time undisturbed, and the air in the room was so close and hot that both became languorous and sleepy. Nor was there any sound except the droning of some flies overhead and this added to the heaviness. Paul finally rose and gazed through the little windows, but he saw only an empty field and the edge of the forest. Save for this glimpse of green they were completely cut off from the world. He sat down again on the floor and composed his figure as comfortably as he could.

"How long do you think we hev been in here, Paul?" asked Long Jim.

"About four hours."

"Four hours! why, I thought it wuz four months. Paul, I don't believe I could stand this more'n a week, no matter ef they fed me upon the finest things in the land. At the end uv a week I'd turn right over an' die, an' when they examined me to see the cause uv my death, they'd find that my heart wuz broke in two, right squar' down the middle."

"They say that some wild animals die in captivity, and you might call it of a broken heart."

"I'm one uv them kind. I like lots uv room. I want it to be clean woods an' prairie runnin' a thousan' miles from me in every direction. An' I don't want too many people trampin' 'roun' in them woods either, save Injuns to keep you lookin' lively, an' mebbe twenty or thirty white men purty well scattered. I reckon I'd call that my estate, Paul, an' I'd want it swarmin' with b'ars an' buffaler an' deer, an' all kinds uv big an' little game. Then I'd want a couple uv good rifles, one to take the place uv tother when it went bad, an' a couple uv huts p'raps three or four hundred miles apart to sleep in, when the weather wuz too tarnation bad, lots uv ammunition an', Paul, I'd be happy on that thar estate uv mine."

"Aren't you a little bit grasping, Jim?" asked Paul.

"Me, graspin'," replied Long Jim in a surprise. "What makes you ask sech a foolish question, Paul? Why, all I ask is to range ez fur an' ez long ez I like an' not to be bothered by no interlopers. I don't want to crowd nobody, an' I don't want nobody to crowd me. But, Paul, ef a feller could do that fur about a thousand years wouldn't it be a life wuth livin'? Just think uv all the deer hunts an' buffaler hunts an' b'ar hunts you could hev! An' the long beaver trappin' trips, you could go on? An' the new rivers an' new mountings you could find! The Injuns has the right idea about Heaven, Paul. They make it the happy huntin' grounds. Them huntin' grounds o' theirs run ten million miles in every direction. You couldn't ever come to any end. No matter how fur you went you'd see oceans uv green trees ahead uv you, an' on one side uv you prairies covered with buffaler herds so big that they'd be a week passin' you, an' then they'd still be passin'."

Long Jim heaved a deep sigh and was silent for a while. Paul, too, was silent. At last Long Jim said:

"I s'pose it don't pay, Paul, to be drawin' sech splendiferous pictures uv what ain't. Now I've gone an' made myself onhappy, talkin' uv them glorious huntin' grounds that stretch away without end, when here we are in this hot box so narrer I can't straighten out my legs. Besides, I'm gittin' pow'ful hungry. I wonder ef they mean to starve us to death. Strikes me that's an awful mean way uv killin' a man. He not only dies but he's so terrible hungry sech a long time."

But Long Jim's forebodings were not fulfilled. When the light that came through the little windows began to grow dusky, the door was thrown open and Luiz and another man entered with food and water. Luiz could not speak English, but he could make pantomime, and in that dumb but suggestive way he invited them to partake freely. Long Jim's good humor returned.

"Don't keer ef I do, Mr. Spaniard," he said jovially. "It's a failin' uv mine to want to eat whenever I'm hungry, an' since you're invitin', why, I'll jest accept."

The door was left open while Luiz and the soldier were inside, but several other soldiers were on guard at the opening, and there was no chance for a dash. But fresh air came in, the cooler air of the evening, and Paul and Long Jim were greatly relieved. Yet Jim Hart cast many a longing glance at the open door. Outside was the wide world, and his place was there. Darkness was coming, but darkness would have no terrors for Long Jim, if only there were no walls about him.

When hunger and thirst were satisfied, Luiz and his comrade fell back respectfully. A tall figure, followed by a man bearing a torch, entered the doorway.

The man was Francisco Alvarez, but neither Paul nor Long Jim rose, Paul because he disliked the Spaniard and considered him a bitter enemy of his people, Long Jim because he saw no reason why he should rise for anybody.

Alvarez looked down at them and the sight of the two caused him a mixture of anger and triumph. His wound still stung, but at the bottom of his heart was a feeling that he had deserved it. In the presence of his own retainers, and with all the circumstances in his favor, he had sought to humiliate a boy. But this faint feeling was not enough to induce corresponding action. He was also something of a statesman, and he saw the power behind these two who had come out of the woods. They were foresters, they wore the tanned skin of the deer, but they belonged to the soil; they were natives, while he, in all his brilliant uniform and gold lace, was a foreigner, merely the long, extended arm of a power four thousand miles away. The two were but a vanguard, others would come and yet others in a volume, always increasing. The only possibility of saving Louisiana was to cut off the stream at the fountain head, while it was yet a thin and trickling rill, and he, Francisco Alvarez, was the man for the deed.

It was because such thoughts as these were passing through his head that he did not speak for at least a minute, but stood steadily regarding Paul and Long Jim. He knew instinctively that it was Paul to whom he must speak, the boy with the thoughtful, dreamy eye, who, like himself, would gaze far into the future.

"Where are your comrades?" he asked, "the other three who helped you to steal my boat?"

"Captured it, you mean," replied Paul, calmly. "So long as you use the words 'steal' and 'thief,' you can talk to the air. I've nothing to say."

"Nor me either, Paul," said Long Jim, "I can't remember another time in my life when I felt so little like talkin'."

Long Jim leaned his head against the wall and half closed his eyes. His manner expressed the utmost indifference. Alvarez frowned, but he remembered that they were wholly in his power and he had plans.

"I'll change the words," he said, "but I repeat the question. Where are your comrades?"

"I don't know," replied Paul, and feeling a sudden happy thrill of defiance he added: "They are probably somewhere arranging the details of our rescue."

Alvarez frowned again.

"That is impossible," he said. "Perhaps you do not know your position. You are not at New Orleans. Here I am both the civil and military chief and this is my own place. I can put you to death as brigands or guerillas, caught red-handed upon Spanish soil."

"Both charges, you know, are false," said Paul, "you know, too, that we have come to defeat, if we can, a conspiracy between you and Braxton Wyatt, a renegade whose life is doubly forfeit to his people. He carries plans, maps, and full information of our settlements in Kentucky, and he expects that you will go with many soldiers and cannon to help him and the tribes destroy us. What plans you and he have beyond this I do not know, but these, my friends and I hope to defeat, and we feel we could not be engaged in a greater or holier task."

Paul spoke with great fire and eloquence. His soul was revealed in his eyes, and Alvarez felt that he was in touch with a mind of no common order.

"Imagination!" said the Spaniard trying to laugh the impression away. "I find in Senor Wyatt a pleasant and intelligent assistant. He understands the rights of the King of Spain in these vast regions, and has a due regard for them. You and your comrades are outlaws, subject to the penalty of death and I hold you in my hand. Yet I am disposed to be generous. Give me your oath that you and your comrade here and the three in the woods will go back to Kaintock at once and remain there, and I will release you."

Paul regarded him steadily. Bold man as he was, the Spaniard's eyes fell at last.

"We can give no such promise," said Paul. "I think that the reasons why we should go on to New Orleans are exceedingly strong."

"Ez fur me," said Long Jim, "I ain't ever been fond uv goin' back on my own tracks until I git good an' ready."

"I merely came here to give you a chance," said Alvarez, still addressing himself to Paul. "Do you think that a few woodsmen can stand in the path of Spain? Do you think that a great ancient monarchy can be held back by stray settlers?"

"You seem to be afraid of it yourself," said Paul who was regarding him closely.

A flush, despite himself, came into the Spaniard's cheeks, and it was partly of anger because a boy had read his mind so well. It was not a thing to be endured.

"I repeat that I came merely to give you a chance," he said. "Whatever you may suffer you can now bear in mind that you are the cause of it. Come, Luiz, I have wasted too much time."

He walked out followed by the soldier, but Francisco Alvarez had known before entering the prison that his offer would be declined. He merely wished to clear away any light burden that might rest on his conscience, before proceeding with another plan that he had in mind.

Paul and Jim did not say a word until the door was fastened and they were left to the darkness. Then it was Jim who unburdened himself.

"Paul," he said, "did you ever see a panther gittin' ready to jump? Notice how his eyes turn a yellery-green, 'cause he thinks he's goin' to git what he wants right away? Notice how his mouth is slobberin' 'cause he thinks he's goin' to hev his dinner on the spot. Notice how his body is drawed up, an' his tail is slowly movin' side to side, 'cause he thinks he's goin' to sink his claws in tender flesh the next second! Wa'al that panther makes me think uv this here Spaniard, Alvarez. I think we kin look fur jest about ez much kindness an' gentlin' from him ez a fawn could expect from a hungry panther."

"You are certainly right, Jim," said Paul.

"Uv course! Ef I didn't know thar wuz so many soldiers about, I'd send a whoop through one uv them little winders thar, an' bring Henry, Tom, an' Sol here to let us out."

"As we can't do that, Jim," said Paul, "I think I'll go to sleep."



CHAPTER X

A BARBARIC ORDEAL

When Paul awoke the next morning just after daylight, he did not feel very good. Accustomed all his life to fresh air and infinite spaces, the close, hot little log house oppressed him. His head felt heavy and his lungs choked. Jim felt likewise and made audible complaint, but the door was soon opened, and again it was Luiz and a comrade with food.

"Luiz, you ain't no beauty an' you can't talk a real decent language," said Long Jim, "but I'm pow'ful glad to see you."

The words were foreign to Luiz, but he understood Long Jim's tone. He smiled and showed his white teeth, but when his glance fell upon Paul he became sad. Then he looked quickly away. He did not wish either Paul or his comrade to read anything in that glance. Luiz did not have a bad heart and he was troubled.

When they had eaten their breakfast, Luiz put his hand on Paul's shoulder, and pointed to the door, beckoning also to Long Jim. His manner indicated plainly that they were to leave the prison.

"All right, pardner," said Long Jim. "You won't have to git no pole to pry me out uv this place."

Luiz led the way and the two followed gladly. The air was crisper and fresher than usual, and to both of them it felt divine. They inhaled deep breaths, and thought that the world had never looked so beautiful. What a golden sunrise! What a blue sky! What magnificent green woods off there under the horizon! They felt strength and courage rushing back in a flood.

"Which way now, Mr. Spaniard?" said Long Jim. "Has your captain repented, an' does he want to give us the finest rooms in his house? I can't say that we liked the tavern he made us stop at last night."

Luiz shook his head, either to signify that he did not understand or that there was no reply, and led the way down a narrow path shut in on either side with magnolias and cypresses. The little group of soldiers enclosed Paul and Long Jim, but all their glances were for the boy, none for the man.

The enclosed path led on for two or three hundred yards. Paul now and then caught glimpses through the trees of the chateau or a passing face, and he heard a low murmur that seemed to be the hum of many voices.

The path ended presently at a gate in a high board wall, and both gate and wall were thick and strong Here a Spaniard dressed like a minor officer was waiting, and began to unlock the gate.

"Now what under the sun can they be about?" asked Long Jim, to whom all this seemed very strange. "Are they goin' to tie us up in a pen?"

The heavy gate was unlocked and swung open a foot or so. Two soldiers suddenly seized Long Jim and pulled him back, while another thrust Paul into the open space. The officer put in his hand a sword—the very one with which he had wounded Alvarez, Paul's fingers closing mechanically over the hilt. Then they shoved Paul inside, and quickly closed and locked the gate behind him. But the last look that Luiz had bent upon the boy was one of pity and sympathy.

Paul staggered with the force of the push that the men had given him, and for a moment or two he was dazed, but eye and brain alike cleared as a great shout arose. Then he beheld an extraordinary scene.

The boy stood within a ring fence enclosing a circular space perhaps thirty yards across, free from grass, and trodden hard. The fence was of boards only about half way around, the rest of it being made of strong parallel bars about two feet apart and fastened to posts. At the far side a rude log stable seemed to open into it. The place might have been intended as a breaking ground for horses but Paul did not have time to think.

Facing him just outside the fence and sitting on a hastily constructed wooden seat was Francisco Alvarez, still in his finest uniform. Beside him was Braxton Wyatt, also in a Spanish uniform, and all about them on either side, wherever the fence was made of parallel bars and open to see, clustered the mob, soldiers, laborers, servants, white faces, black faces, yellow faces, brown faces, straight hair, curly hair, and kinky hair, French, Spaniards, Portuguese, Indians, negroes, and many mixtures, every one eager and tense, and every eye bent upon Paul who stood, back to the gate, holding the sword in his hand, but unconscious that he held it.

What was this mummery? Why was he a spectacle for that mob? All the blood rushed to Paul's head and the little pulses in his temples began to beat like hammers. He looked at Alvarez, but the Spaniard had turned his face into a stony mask, and he could read no meaning there. Then he looked at Braxton Wyatt, and the renegade's countenance plainly expressed malignity and triumph.

The great shout that greeted the entrance of Paul died away to a silence so heavy that it seemed ominous. Then Francisco Alvarez looked toward the wooden building, at the far side of the ring, and raised his hand. A gate there was thrown open, and a man, sword in hand, strolled lazily out. Again a tremendous shout arose, and the mob pressed closer to the bars, those in front sitting on the grass and those behind standing up in order that they might look over them.

Francisco Alvarez raised his hand a second time, and instantly there was silence once more. He was like a feudal lord dispensing justice in the open air before all his retainers.

"Kaintock," he called in a loud voice, "since you are so expert with the sword, we give you another chance to display your skill. Defend yourself from this champion."

Again the approving shout of the mob arose, and Paul looked across the ring, where the swordsman had come forth.

The man was of great size, and his whole appearance reminded Paul of the ancient gladiators of whom he had read. He seemed to be a West Indian of Spanish descent, very dark and with immense shoulders. He wore a red shirt, which added to his strange and savage appearance. He carried in his hand a long sword, much longer than Paul's and when he faced the lad he suddenly grasped the hilt of his weapon in both hands and twirled it about until it made a glittering circle. The crowd set up a shout, but Paul felt chilled through and through.

"I have no quarrel with this man," he called to Alvarez, "and I will not fight him."

"You have no choice," replied Alvarez, and the more savage in the crowd, who wished to see barbaric sport, shouted their approval. But some were silent. Long Jim struggled with four men, and exclaimed, "It's murder! He's only a boy!" But the four held him fast.

The swordsman, grinning in the certainty of easy triumph, advanced upon Paul.

Now Paul understood. He was there to furnish sport, terrible, deadly sport, and he must fight if he would save himself. As Alvarez truly said, no choice was left to him. If he sprang for the barrier they would thrust him back, and that was not a thing to be endured.

Francisco Alvarez, spurred on by the sting of his wound, and urged, too, by Braxton Wyatt, who was mad for the deed the moment he heard of it, had done this wicked thing. The strain of cruelty in his nature, inherited perhaps, from far-off ancestors who had looked upon pitiless games in the arena in the Roman cities in Spain, was completely in control.

"It is better than I thought," he said to Braxton Wyatt. "The ring serves the purpose well. We shall have some royal sport If Kaintock will but fight."

"He will fight," said Braxton Wyatt.

The swordsman advanced upon Paul and thrust with his shining blade. Paul felt intuitively that he was a master of the weapon, reinforced, too, by enormous strength. He, a boy, would have but little chance. Yet he parried the thrust and replied with one of his own that flashed dangerously near the man's side. The crowd again shouted approval, but as before some were silent. Long Jim made another effort to drag himself loose, but he could not. The men held him. Nevertheless, he repeated his cry: "It's murder! He's only a boy!"

The rapid interchange of thrust and parry followed, and the swordsman grew angry. He was there not only to furnish sport, but to have it also for himself. He did not like to be held back by one over whom he had thought victory so easy. Suddenly he exerted his full strength and broke through Paul's guard. The lad felt his left shoulder and arm seared as if by a great flame, and, with a cry that he could not repress, he dropped back.

The swordsman, too, stepped back, sure now of his triumph. The shout came from the crowd once more, but only from a part of it, and brave, faithful Long Jim closed his eyes that he might not see what would follow.

The elated swordsman held up his weapon as one would a banner. It was a broad blade like a cutlass and it glittered in the brilliant sunlight. The next moment there was the sound of a shot, the man uttered a cry of pain, although himself untouched, and the sword, broken in several pieces, fell to the ground. It had been shot from his hand with a rifle bullet.

Long Jim, opening his eyes, uttered a cry of joy and Henry Ware, smoking rifle in hand, pressed his way through the crowd, which he had entered unnoticed in the excitement.

Francisco Alvarez sprang to his feet in anger. Not for some moments did he see the figure of the one who fired the shot, and even then he did not know who it was. But Braxton Wyatt knew Henry Ware at once, and he was resolved that he should not escape.

"Seize him! seize him!" cried the renegade. "He is the most dangerous of them all!"

But Henry offered no resistance, as the soldiers rushed toward him, quietly surrendering his rifle. Tom Ross, who was behind him, angrily threw back the crowd and would have fought, but Henry said: "Give up, Tom, it's best for the present."

Henry's eyes were upon his comrade who had been subjected to such treatment. Paul stood erect, but there were stains on his shoulder, and he was pale and weak.

"Look to him," said Henry threateningly to Francisco Alvarez who was approaching. "It is an outrage of which the Governor General of Louisiana shall know."

Alvarez flushed. He felt now slight prickings of the conscience and of apprehension. It was indeed a wicked deed that he had done, but he had no mind to be bearded by another from Kaintock.

"He will receive the proper attention," he said, "but you are my prisoner, and so is this man who has just been taken with you. I tell you, too, that I am in supreme command here, and I take the responsibility for all my acts."

Braxton Wyatt had crowded near, but Henry and Tom refused to notice him. Luiz went into the ring and led Paul away, binding up his shoulder where the flesh was cut, although the hurt was not serious. "Take their arms and put them all in the same prison," said Alvarez to one of his officers and the four were escorted to the log house which Paul and Long Jim had left not long before.

"Our plan has been marked by some success after all," said Alvarez to Braxton Wyatt. "It has drawn two more into our hands."

"There is a fifth," said Braxton Wyatt. "The one they call Shif'less Sol, and we have not got him. As long as a single one of them is free we are in danger."

The Spaniard laughed.

"You exaggerate their powers," he said. "We have nothing to fear from one wandering hunter."

"But this man, Shif'less Sol, is full of cunning," said Braxton Wyatt.

The Spaniard's only reply was to hold his head a little higher. It was his plan now to assume his haughtiest manner. The little fear that he had done wrong, that his act in forcing Paul into the ring against a professional swordsman, a gladiator as it were, was mediaeval, and that harm might come to him from it, clung to him. But pride bade him never to show it.

As he and Braxton Wyatt went into the Chateau of Beaulieu, the doors of the log prison closed upon the four comrades. Paul, under the care of Luiz, reached it first but the others were just behind. Paul sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. The others bent tenderly over him. But Paul looked up at them and smiled.

"It isn't much," he said. "The sword only grazed me. My clothing saved me from a bad cut. But I wish you boys, whatever happens, would remember that Spaniard, Luiz. He's been kind to me."

"We'll do it," said Henry. "I don't know what will come of all this, Paul, but I feel sure that we'll succeed."

"Of course," said Paul, "but you came just in time, and that was a great shot of yours."

"We were in the woods," said Henry, "and we saw the crowd gathering. We knew some mischief was afoot, and they were so eager on it that we came up unnoticed. I wanted Tom to stay back, but he was afraid he would be needed."

"And Shif'less Sol?" said Paul. "Where is he?"

Henry laughed.

"The shiftless one is about the shiftiest man in the wilderness," he replied. "Do you suppose that he would ever walk into a trap, when there was nothing inside the trap worth the risk? Didn't he know that Tom and I were sufficient for any task that might be ahead of us this morning?"

Paul laughed, too, and the others were glad to see the color coming back into his face.

"Good old Sol," he said, "I'm glad he didn't come too. He's somewhere out there in the woods, and he's the one link between us and Kentucky. We'll be sure to hear from him."

They talked of their plans, but for the time, they could see no way. Shif'less Sol might go on alone to New Orleans, but it needed the presence of the five to be convincing.

"He wouldn't go anyhow," said Paul. "Sol would never leave us here."

Luiz brought them food and water at noon, and then they were left again to themselves.



CHAPTER XI

THE SPANIARD'S OFFER

The afternoon passed without incident in the log prison save another and very welcome visit from Luiz, who brought water and some cloth bandages to be used on Paul's shoulder. Henry and Long Jim, familiar with hurts, dressed it carefully and skillfully. Paul's healthy blood would quickly do the rest.

"It will be stiff a little for three or four days," said Henry, "but you'll forget in a week that you ever had it."

Then he turned to Luiz.

"We'd like to thank you," he said, "I know you don't understand our words, but maybe you take our meaning."

Luiz nodded violently, smiled at the boy, and then held out his hand in quite an American fashion. His face expressed not only understanding but gratitude as well. Henry, of the acute eye and retentive mind, took a second look. Then he remembered.

"The man whom the buffalo was about to gore and run over!" he exclaimed. "Well, I am glad I was there to help you, and it seems that a lucky chance has made us a friend."

He took the proffered hand and shook it heartily. When Luiz had gone he explained to the others.

"He is surely a friend," he said, "and we have certainly had a piece of good fortune."

But Long Jim instantly demurred.

"Henry," he said, "you're a smart fellow, but you're talkin' real foolish. It wuz your good heart that done it. Ef it hadn't told you to help him when that mad bull wuz about to run over him an' gore him an' trample him clean out uv sight in the earth, he wouldn't a-been here now, grinnin' at you an' with the gratitude oozin' out uv him all over."

Just before the sunset the door was opened again and Braxton Wyatt thrust in his hateful face. Behind him stood four Spanish soldiers.

"I hope you are enjoying yourselves," he said with irony.

"We'd rather be here, as we are, than be in your place, having done what you have done," exclaimed Paul passionately.

Wyatt paled a little, but instantly recovered himself.

"A bear can growl a lot when it's in a trap but growling doesn't help it out," he said airily.

"We kin do more than growl. We've got sharp teeth, too, ez you ought to know," said Tom Ross, the man of few words.

"I'll admit that you have had some successes in the past," said Wyatt, smiling maliciously, "but your time is done. We are the victors, and you'll never get out of this."

The four as if by common consent turned their backs upon him and did not utter another word. The renegade understood the contempt expressed by those four silent backs, and the willful flush broke through the tan of his face. He had never hated them more bitterly.

"Come you, Henry Ware," he said roughly, "Captain Alvarez wishes to ask you some questions."

"I wouldn't go, Henry," said Long Jim. "I wouldn't hev a word to say to that Spaniard or to this white Injun either."

"He will go, whether willingly or unwillingly," said Braxton Wyatt. "I've men enough here to drag him."

"I will go willingly, Jim," said Henry addressing himself to his comrade rather than to the renegade. "It cannot do any harm, and it may help."

"Yes, it is wiser," said Paul.

"So long, boys," said Henry. "I'll be back pretty soon."

He stepped out, calmly ignoring the existence of Braxton Wyatt, and placed himself in the center of the little group of soldiers. His manner indicated clearly that he would make no attempt to escape, and, armed though the four soldiers were, and unarmed though their captive was, they breathed four simultaneous sighs of relief. Henry Ware, boy though he was, with his great height and powerful shoulders, chest, and limbs, was a truly formidable figure.

Braxton Wyatt turned the key noisily in the huge padlock that held the door.

"There," he said, "I think we've got that cattle securely fastened in the pen!"

Henry knew that the insulting words were intended for his ear, but he gave no sign of hearing them. He stood expressionless, awaiting the word to the soldiers to march. Braxton Wyatt quickly gave it. He was angrier than ever, because he could not stir Henry Ware, whom he hated most of all, to open anger.

The march led straight to the Chateau of Beaulieu, across well-trimmed sward, and Henry's alert eye took in everything, the pretentious house, so unlike anything erected by his own people in Kentucky, the low outbuildings, and the occasional gleam of a uniform.

But Henry did not observe at this moment with any eye to the escape of himself and his comrades. His condition of mind was spiritual and he felt a satisfaction for which he could not have accounted if he had tried. He felt sure that his friends and he would escape. He did not doubt it even now, when only one of the five was free in the woods out there. The spring sun was setting in great clouds of red and gold fire, a pleasant coolness was coming over the heated landscape, and every building, fence, and tree was touched by a soft but vivid light.

Braxton led the way into the house and into a great room, where Francisco Alvarez sat in a high chair, keeping state like a feudal lord. He waved his hand and the soldiers withdrew. Then he said to Braxton Wyatt:

"I wish to speak alone, absolutely alone, to Senor Ware, and I must ask you to leave us for a little while."

Braxton turned on his heel, his anger but half concealed, and the Spaniard smiled to himself, Francisco Alvarez was a wily man, a reader of the minds of others, and he did not object to the present displeasure of Wyatt.

But he said nothing until the renegade was gone. Henry, meanwhile, had quietly taken his seat in a cane chair. He was not of any mind to stand in the presence of this man who bore himself as if he were master of everything by right divine.

Francisco Alvarez observed the act and understood its meaning. He smiled again to himself. He had not misjudged the youth, and it confirmed him in the plan that had come suddenly into his cunning mind.

"Senor Ware," he said, veiling his voice and speaking with a velvety courtesy that was unusual in him, "I have brought you here to tell you first that I repent my act to-day, by which I placed your comrade's life in seeming danger. I was hasty, but I had been goaded greatly, and it may be, too, that I was influenced by the sinister advice of one who hates you and your friends in a manner almost beyond belief. Besides, the swordsman had orders not to slay."

Henry Ware looked at him in great surprise. Five minutes ago he would not have dreamed it possible that he could hear such a speech in such a tone from Francisco Alvarez. He waited to see what it meant. Alvarez regarded him in a sort of kindly contemplation, as a man would look upon a youth for whom he had benevolent plans.

"We have been enemies so far," he resumed in his winning tone, "you and your comrades against myself and my people. But I have learned one thing, and I am confirmed in it by the opinion of others; boy as you are, you are the strongest and most dangerous of the five who oppose me; you are the leader."

The words, although true, were those of compliment and flattery, and Henry felt the touch of poison in the silky tone. He stiffened himself slightly as if he would resist a danger, unknown as yet, but all the more to be dreaded on that account. He still remained silent.

"Yes, you are the strongest and the one most to be feared," continued Alvarez musingly, "I am not saying it to flatter you, but because it is a matter that I have weighed well for reasons pertaining to statecraft. There sentiment or personal liking cannot count. I have plans, large plans, in regard to this country. I suppose that every ambitious man who comes here has them. How can he help it when he sees so vast and fertile a land inhabited only by savages? My plan, I believe, is right, in accordance with probability and justice. You, Senor Ware, are a representative of a race that has crossed the mountains into a new region. You have there, in Kaintock, thin and feeble settlements that must soon be crushed."

Henry spoke for the first time, but he showed no excitement, although his heart had begun to beat faster.

"I think you are wrong, Captain Alvarez," he said. "The settlements in Kentucky have already driven back some formidable forays, and they grow stronger every day."

"Forays of savages only. What could they do if a force of white men, a powerful force, armed with cannon came?"

"But will they come?" asked Henry pointedly.

"Ah, I see you are clever," said Alvarez, still smiling. "You and the other youth, Cotter, are educated, and you must realize the truth of what I say. Yes, that force will come. Your Eastern colonies are about to be defeated by the King of England. You are rebels, and there is no place for defeated rebels but the depths of the wilderness. Spain has been coquetting with these colonies, but she will come back to the side of the English monarchy where she belongs. The monarchies must stand together against all rebels."

"How do you know that Spain will help England to fight us?" asked Henry.

Alvarez smiled once more, but the smile now, instead of being merely winning, was superior.

"It is a long distance from here to Europe," he replied, "but news may come even into the depths of the woods. I have many friends in Spain, friends near the court, who inform me whenever the wind changes."

Henry did not like that superior smile. It was a mistake of Francisco Alvarez, a mistake that many strong men make, to assume a patronizing manner even for a moment in the presence of another who was also strong. Henry's intuition at once put him on guard at all points.

"I have heard," he said, "that Bernardo Galvez, the Spanish Governor General at New Orleans, is no friend of the British power. But why do you discuss these things with me or tell me of them?"

"It is because I have considered you and recognize your worth," replied Alvarez slowly. "Why rush on to destruction with the foolish rebels? No, do not speak! Pay good heed to what I say. There is more passing on this continent than you think. Great events are about to occur. I do not speak merely of the war between the rebels—or, if you prefer it, the Americans—and the English, but of another change.

"Spain is seated at New Orleans near the mouth of the Mississippi, which flows through a larger area of fertile and temperate country than any other river in the world. The waters of hundreds of navigable streams converge there, and it must become the rival of London and Paris. What can Quebec, Boston, New York, or Charleston be to New Orleans? Can Spain give up such a site and such a vast and fertile territory as Louisiana? Never! And here is the greatest opportunity in the world for strong men! Come with me! Bring your friends with you! We need such as you! I offer you a career that could not even enter your dreams in the woods of Kaintock!"

A deep, red flush overspread Henry's face.

"Do you think that we could fight against our own people," he exclaimed. "Do you think that we are made of such stuff as that miserable renegade, Braxton Wyatt?"

Alvarez did not flinch. His words had been delivered with extraordinary emphasis, and they carried the ring of his own conviction. His great plan possessed him, and he saw before him an instrument of which he could make good use.

"I do not ask you to go against your own people," he replied. "Remain in Louisiana. Great work can be found here for you and your friends. And where Kaintock is concerned another way could be made. It is far from the Eastern colonies, divided by mountains, the forest, and Indians. Where could they find a better friend to whom to turn than the King of Spain? And they will surely need a powerful friend!"

Henry gazed at him in amazement, and yet he felt a certain respect for the scope and largeness of the man's plan, repellent though the plan was to him. He saw that Alvarez was not an ordinary man, that he was one with whom the people for whom he cared would have to reckon. But he was not afraid, nor was he tempted for a moment by the promise of a glittering future that Alvarez held out to him. He felt an immense indignation, but he was still master of himself, and he replied quietly.

"I could not leave my own people, nor would any of my comrades. The air of Louisiana does not suit us. We are accustomed to a colder climate. We feel, too, that Kaintock can take care of herself. Nor is it sure that the Eastern colonies will be crushed by the King. But, should they be, Kentucky would never desert them to join Spain."

Alvarez frowned, and his temper began to rise. Henry was showing more finesse and more knowledge of the world and its events than he had thought possible in one just come out of the woods.

"By entering my service, by becoming a lieutenant of mine, you have all to gain and nothing to lose," he said, resuming his customary tone of superiority.

Henry instantly felt the change of manner and resented it.

"I could not dream of accepting such an offer," he said, "but, if I should, I'd merely take the place that you've already given to Braxton Wyatt, a renegade. He thinks it is his, and you have made him think it is his. If you do not keep faith with him how could I believe that you would keep faith with me?"

The dark blood of anger flushed the Spaniard's face. He half rose from his seat and then sat down again.

"I have made you an offer," he said, "one that any youth or young man should be proud to accept, and you insult me by saying that you doubt my faith. You are a child, a backwoodsman, and an ignorant fellow!"

"I am not ignorant about some things of importance," replied Henry calmly, "but, if I were low enough to be tempted by your offer, I should still be wise enough to know that a man who plots against his own superior officer could not be trusted by me." "What do you mean?" asked Alvarez, paling for a moment.

"Is it not true that by fair or foul means you expect shortly to succeed Bernardo Galvez as Governor General of Louisiana?"

The Spaniard's hand flew to his sword hilt. Such things as these were not to be known by everybody. But Henry met his gaze steadily, and the hand fell away from the sword-hilt. He had gone too far already. He was sorry that he had turned the professional swordsman loose on Paul—it had been an unwise deed—and another act of violence in a single day was unworthy a man of his self-control. No, a new and better plan came suddenly into his mind.

The two sat for a few moments gazing steadily at each other. Alvarez was in the higher chair, and that gave him the physical advantage, but the look of the fearless youth was like the sharp sword that cuts scornfully through the maze and web of intrigue and trickery. Alvarez was forced to turn his gaze aside, and his soul was full of tumult and anger because he had to yield. The new plan that he had conceived in regard to this daring boy now seemed a peculiarly happy thought. Henry's pride and spirit must be broken, and he, Francisco Alvarez, was the man for the task.

He clapped his hands and a soldier entered. He sent a message by him and several more came, accompanied by Braxton Wyatt. Alvarez motioned Wyatt to a seat.

"Senor Wyatt," he said in his slow, precise English, "I have been having a talk with your friend, your former friend here, and I find him to be as unworthy as you have described him to be. I offered only kindness to himself and his friends. I chose to believe that they had been merely foolish, misled by ignorance, but his reply has been only to insult me and to blacken you."

The renegade did not seek to conceal the joy that shone in his eyes. He had been in fear when he was sent out of the hall, in fear lest Alvarez had some plan by which he would suffer, and now it was obvious that nothing had been changed.

"It is his character," said Wyatt. "He is vicious and the truth has never been in him."

Henry did not know what all this talk meant, but he refused to notice Braxton Wyatt. His manner indicated that the renegade had ceased to exist, and it made Wyatt furious.

"You tell the truth," continued Alvarez, "but he is dangerous, too, as you told me, a strong, wily fellow, and I shall not take any chances on his escape. See, I am providing against it."

A soldier entered, bearing balls and chain, and Alvarez pointed to Henry. The youth sprang to his feet. He knew that this was intended as an indignity, and his mind rebelled.

"Put them on him," said Alvarez, and the soldiers approached. Henry hurled the first back and then the second, but the others were about to fling themselves upon him in a heap, when a voice from the door cried:

"Stop!"

It was not a loud voice, but one full of dignity and command, and the soldiers instantly fell back.

A tall man, robed in black, and with a thin face, smoothly shaven and austere, stood in the doorway. The eyes, usually benevolent and kindly, sparkled with indignation, and one hand was uplifted in rebuke.

"Father Montigny!" said Henry, under his breath.

"Who says 'stop!' here, where I command?" Alvarez exclaimed, and then he paled at sight of the priest. The Spaniard was a bold man, but he wished no conflict with Holy Church.

"I said 'stop,'" replied the priest with calm dignity, advancing into the room. "Francisco Alvarez, you were about to perform a deed unworthy of yourself, one that you would have cause to regret. There is no war between Louisiana and Kaintock. What right have you to put this youth in chains?"

He took a step further, and the rebuking hand was still uplifted. The soldiers shrank back and more than one crossed himself. Yet they were relieved, as Father Montigny had interfered with a task that they did not like.

"I have the utmost respect for Holy Church," replied Alvarez, though it cost him an effort to utter the words, "but I am in command here and all military affairs fall under my jurisdiction. This young man is a dangerous spy and plotter from Kaintock, one who has used force against us. He and his comrades seized one of our boats and that was an act of war."

"He is a good youth," said Father Montigny. "He and his comrades did me a great service. I know that his motives are good, and I will not see him treated in such barbarous fashion."

The face of Alvarez darkened. This was more than he could stand.

"I am the judge in these matters," he replied, "and I tell you, Father Montigny, that you must not interfere. Your order, the Capuchins, are in power now at New Orleans, as I know, but the Jesuits may come back. I should favor their returning."

"It is not a question of Capuchin or Jesuit," replied Father Montigny sternly, "and you, Francisco Alvarez, should know it. It is a question of you and what you are doing here. You need not make any threats against me. I care for none of them, but Bernardo Galvez, the Governor General at New Orleans, shall know of what is passing at Beaulieu."

The face of Alvarez contracted into a terrible frown. Nevertheless he feared the unarmed priest. He was helpless against him and he feared, too, that if he persisted Father Montigny would quickly learn of other and deeper matters. He broke into a short and by no means hearty laugh.

"Perhaps I was going rather far," he said, "but this youth has provoked me beyond endurance. Take away those things, Gaspar."

The Spaniard whom he indicated took the irons, and Henry sat down again in his chair. The threatened ignominy had stung him deeply and he said under his breath: "I thank you, Father Montigny." Then Alvarez ordered Henry to be taken away, also.

Henry arose without resistance, and walked from the hall with the soldiers. As he passed, Father Montigny put his hand on his shoulder and said: "I am your friend, my son."

Henry said nothing but gave him a look of deep gratitude as he walked proudly out.



CHAPTER XII

THE SHADOW IN THE FOREST

Luiz and his comrades escorted Henry back to the prison, and the expressive face of Luiz showed pleasure. He made a vigorous pantomime and spoke words in Spanish.

"Yes, I understand your meaning if not your language, my friend," said Henry, "and I thank you. I am glad to know that I have your good will."

When the door of his prison was thrown open and Henry was then shut in again with his comrades they looked at him expectantly.

"Well?" said Paul.

"What happened?" said Long Jim.

"Anything to tell?" said Tom Ross.

"How's your shoulder, Paul?" asked Henry.

"Fast getting well," replied Paul, who knew that his comrade would speak in his own good time.

Henry sat on the floor and leaned against the wall in as comfortable a position as he could assume. Then he looked rather humorously at his comrades.

"Alvarez wanted to bribe me," he said.

"To bribe you? What do you mean?"

"Yes, to bribe me—and all of us together. He wanted us to serve him here in Louisiana, and help him in an attempt to bring over Kentucky to Spain."

"That is, he wanted to make Braxton Wyatts out of us?" said Paul.

"You put it exactly right, Paul," said Henry, "I laughed at him, and called him by the names that belonged to him. He brought in Braxton Wyatt and the soldiers and ordered me to be put in irons, there in his presence."

"What!" exclaimed Paul, "did he dare that, too?"

"Yes. His object, of course, was to humiliate me—and all of us. It was stopped by one who came in at the right moment. You couldn't guess who it was."