"It must a-been Shif'less Sol," said Long Jim, whose mind ran to physical deeds. "I guess he sent a bullet right into the middle uv that rascal crew. Sol's the boy to be right on the spot when he's needed."

Henry laughed.

"No, Jim," he said. "That's a pretty wild guess. It was none other than Father Montigny, the man whom we helped. He paid us back sooner than we thought. You ought to have seen him, Paul. He looked like an avenging angel. He stood there, a single, unarmed man, and they were afraid of him. I could see fear on every one of their faces."

Paul's vivid imagination instantly painted the whole scene. It appealed to him with tremendous power. It was the triumph of mind and character over force and wickedness.

"I can see Father Montigny now," he said. "A man who always does right and has no fear whatever of death, is afraid of nothing, either in this world or the world to come."

"Which gives him a pow'ful sight uv freedom," said Long Jim.

"When he told them to stop they took away their balls and chain," said Henry, "and sent me back here. Alvarez realized that he had gone too far, but I think that he fears Father Montigny for other reasons, too. The priest may put the Governor General on his guard."

"So we ain't alone," said Long Jim musingly. "Curious how you git help when you ain't expectin' it. The wicked hev it their way fur a while, an' then they don't. They don't ever seem able to finish up their work. Sometimes I think the right is jest like a river flowin' on in its nateral channel, an' boun' to git to the sea after a while, no matter what happens. The wrong is all them dams, an' san' bars an' snags, and brush an' drift-wood that people an' chance pile up in the way. They do choke up the waters, an' send 'em around in other channels, an' make a heap uv trouble, but by and by them waters git to the sea jest the same."

"I hope so, Jim," said Paul.

"Now thar ain't no doubt uv what I say," said Long Jim. "Take this case uv ourn. Jest when we need it most fur a thousand miles uv river travel we git a bee-yu-ti-ful boat, all fitted up with everything we want. Jest when that Spaniard gits his paws on us, he don't git his paws on one uv us, an' that's Shif'less Sol out thar in the woods. An' so long ez Shif'less Sol is free out thar in the woods we're mighty nigh free ourselves. Then, when this same Spaniard is ready to load irons on Henry in a way that no free-born man kin stand, in pops a priest who likes us—an' we don't belong to his church either—an' puts a stop to the whole thing."

While they were talking Francisco Alvarez also was busy with a kindred theme, as he entertained a guest. That guest was Father Montigny, to whom he had made up his mind to be courteous, although he would not condescend to any further apology. He ordered that the priest should receive food and attention, and that men should look after and replenish his canoe which was now tied in the bayou. After all these orders were given, Alvarez sat in the great room of Beaulieu and smoked the cigarro of his time.

There was a bitter drop in the well of his satisfaction. The coming of the priest had been unforeseen and unfortunate. He knew Father Montigny, and Father Montigny knew him. Now how much did Father Montigny know of his plans? That was the important question.

While he was yet speaking, Father Montigny, whom a very little of rest and food always sufficed, entered the room, his manner full of austerity. Francisco Alvarez rose, all blandness and courtesy.

"Be seated, Father," he said. "It is a poor place that we have here, but we give you of our best. Who would deserve it more than you, a man of such long travels and such great hardships in the holiest of all causes?"

The face of the priest did not relax. He sat down upon one of the cane chairs and gazed sternly at Alvarez. Truly, it is a terrible thing to meet the accusing gaze of a man who fears neither torture, nor death, nor the world to come! The accusation is likely to be true. Alvarez looked away. Twice within one day he who, with reason, thought himself so courageous had been forced to yield to the gaze of another, and his heart was full of angry rebellion. But he knew that knowledge and power dwelt under the simple black robe of this man.

"It seems," said Father Montigny, and there was a slight touch of irony in his tone, "that I came at the right moment."

Francisco Alvarez compelled his face to smile, though his heart was raging.

"I have already apologized, Father Montigny," he said, "for what I was about to do. And yet the phrase 'about to do' is wrong. Even if you had not come I should have repented of myself, and sent away the irons. I can repeat, too, in my defense that I was provoked beyond endurance by this youth's insolence."

His tone was silky, light, indolent, as if he would dismiss a trifle about which too much had been said already. It might have been convincing to any other man, but he felt the stern, reproving gaze of Father Montigny still fixed upon him.

"And what of the ring and the professional swordsman?" said the priest. "Are you to turn a youth to a gladiator, even as the blessed martyrs were given to the lions and tigers by the Roman pagans! What of that, Francisco Alvarez? Are such deeds to be done, here, in our day, in Louisiana, and to pass unchallenged?"

The priest's voice rose and it cut like the sharp edge of a knife. Never since his boyhood had Francisco Alvarez flushed more deeply, and he moved uneasily on his cane chair.

"You give it a name that does not belong to it," he said. "It was play, or not much more. Romildo, the swordsman, had orders not to hurt him much."

"That may or may not be true, Francisco Alvarez," said the priest, speaking slowly and precisely. "But I have more to ask you. What of this plot of yours to set the Indian tribes and a Spanish force with cannon upon Kaintock? What of your plan to become Governor General in place of Galvez? What of your intention to make distant war upon the rebel colonies and therefore commit Spain to an alliance with England? Answer me, Francisco Alvarez. What of these things?"

The priest rose from his seat, as he spoke, and lifted that stern, accusing finger. Alvarez was as still as if struck by lightning. His great plan known to this man, this man who feared not even torture, or death, or the world to come! He shrank visibly both mentally and physically, but then his courage came back under the spur of dreadful necessity.

"A priest can take great liberties," he said. "Sometimes I think it scarcely fair that you of the Book may denounce us of the sword and that we may say nothing in return, although we may be right and you may be wrong. It is sufficient now for me to tell you that I do not know what you are talking about. I, the Governor General! Any man may dream of that! I have done so, and I have no doubt that many others have done the same. I favor, too, an alliance with England, as do nearly all the Spanish officers in Louisiana, but I am a faithful servant of His Majesty, the King, and though I may hold my opinions, I know of no plot, either against Bernardo Galvez or to make a war upon Kaintock."

"I have heard you, Francisco Alvarez," said the priest, "but it is for your actions to prove the truth of your words. See to it, also, that there is no further cruelty practised against these men from Kaintock."

"They are my prisoners," replied Alvarez, "and I mean to hold them. There you cannot interfere, Father Montigny. They were taken in arms against us upon our soil of Louisiana, and that they are my prisoners even you cannot dispute."

"No," replied Father Montigny, "I do not dispute it; at least not for the present. But if they are held as prisoners they should be sent to Bernardo Galvez at New Orleans, and not be retained here."

He walked out without waiting for an answer, and Francisco Alvarez was glad to see him go. Five minutes later the Spaniard sent for Braxton Wyatt and the two remained long in consultation.

Meanwhile, something was stirring in the forest not far from Beaulieu. It was a forest of magnolia, willow, and cypress, and of oaks, from which hung great solemn festoons of moss. A deep still bayou cut across it, and here and there were pools of stagnant water, in which coiling black forms swam.

Night was deepening over the wilderness upon which the estate of Beaulieu had made only a scratch. Pale moonlight fell over the drooping green forest and across the deep waters of the bayou. The something that had stirred resolved itself into the shadowy figure of a man who came out of the heart of the forest toward its edge. He walked with a singularly agile step. His moccasined feet made no noise when they touched the ground and the bushes seemed to part for the passage of his body.

When the man reached the edge of the forest next to the Chateau of Beaulieu, he paused for a long time, standing in the shadow of the trees. Always he looked fixedly at a single building, the log hut, in which Alvarez held his four prisoners from Kaintock. While he stood there, stray rays of moonlight coming through the cypresses fell upon him, revealing a tanned face, yellow hair, and a tall, athletic form. He did not look like a Spaniard or an Acadian, or one of the Frenchmen who had emigrated from Canada, or any kind of a West Indian. His was certainly an alien presence in those regions.

The moon slid back behind a cloud, the silver rays failed, and the figure of the man became more indistinct, almost a shadow, thin and impalpable. Then he bent far over in a stooping position, passed rapidly through a patch of scrub bushes, and came much nearer to the log prison.

At the edge of the bushes he stopped again and watched the prison for at least a minute. Two soldiers were on watch in front of it before the single door, two soldiers in Spanish uniform, who were suffering from tedium, and who were quite sure, anyway that unarmed prisoners could not escape from a one-room building of logs with but a single door, secured by a huge, oak shutter, and two windows, each too small to admit the passage of a boy's or man's body.

The two soldiers slouched in their walk, and presently, when their beats met before the door, they let the butts of their guns rest on the ground, and exchanged pleasant talk about pretty, dark girls that they had known in far-away Spain. One boldly lighted a cigarrito and the other encouraged by his example did likewise. Hark, what was that? "A lizard in the grass," said Carlos. "Yes, certainly," said Juan. They continued to smoke their cigarritos blissfully, and talk of the pretty, dark girls that they had known in far-away Spain.

As they smoked and talked, and found smoke, talk and company pleasant, they did not see a shadow glide swiftly from the bushes and pass to the rear of the log prison that they were guarding so well. Nor could they see the shadow, since the building was now between them, resolve itself again into the figure of a man, who stood upright against the wall, his face at one of the little slits of windows.

Their own talk was so pleasant, and the sound of their voices was such a cure for lonesomeness on a dark night, that they did not hear the man at the little slit of a window utter a faint warning hiss. Nor did they hear something a moment later fall with a slight metalic sound on the bark floor of the prison. The sound was repeated in an instant, but still they did not hear it, and then the figure of a man, melting back to a shadow, glided away from the house and into the bushes and thence to the forest, where it was lost.

Carlos and Juan chatted until their cigarritos were smoked out. Then they shouldered their muskets and continued the watch that seemed to them so easy. How could unarmed men escape through such a thickness of logs? The shadow in the forest was lost to the sight of any possible Spaniard, but not to the sight of another shadow that arose from the bushes and flitted after it. The two shadows were now deep in the forest, but the second hung close on the first, making no noise, and sinking quickly to the ground, when the other looked back.

This second shadow, as it passed through a partially open space, also revealed itself in the moonlight as a man, but a man ghastly and terrible in appearance. He had a hideous, feline face, and he was naked, save a breech-cloth at the waist. He carried but a single weapon, a knife in his ready hand, but the eyes were those of the most utter savage expecting a speedy prey.

The first shadow reached a little grove free from undergrowth and stopped. He was about to lie down, rifle by his side, and seek sleep, but his ear, attuned to the wilderness, caught a faint sound. It was not the wind among the leaves, nor the gliding of a snake nor the chirp of an insect, but a sound that was not a part of the night harmony. The sensitive ear had given him warning, as the instinct of an animal warns that an enemy has come.

The first shadow slid from the grove and into the undergrowth, sank low, and, waiting, caught sight of the second shadow, the man who pursued. He saw the naked figure, the feline face, and the ready knife in hand. The skill and wonderful forest intuition of the second man had been matched by those of the first.

The pursued, when he caught that glimpse of his pursuer, laid his rifle carefully on the earth, because he did not wish a shot to be heard, and drew his own knife. Slight as was the sound that he made the other heard it, turned in a flash, and the two sprang at each other.

The moonlight streamed for a moment along their knife blades and then they struck. One stepped back, and remained standing upright. The other swayed a moment and then fell without a sound, lying upon his back.

He who lay staring with sightless eyes up at the moon was the man with the feline face and the body naked save for the cloth at the waist. The other, unharmed, stood, looking at him a moment or two, and then plunged deeper into the forest.

Morning dawned. The sun swung up through a terrace of rosy clouds, and Luiz brought the four their breakfast, callas tous chauds, other food of La Louisiane, and milk and coffee. They ate and drank with a great appetite, and it seemed to Luiz that they were quite cheerful, for which he was truly glad, because one of these men had saved his life, and the wounded youth who made an especial appeal to him had been subjected to barbarous treatment. But Paul could use his injured arm already. His blood was so healthy that the scratch of the sword healed fast.

Two or three hours later Francisco Alvarez and Braxton Wyatt entered the prison. The renegade was not above showing by his looks that he rejoiced in his triumph over his enemies, but the face of Alvarez was without expression.

"I have come to tell you," said the Spaniard, "that you will be held here subject to my will. But you will not be treated badly. At such time as I think fit you may be taken to New Orleans."

"It seems that the words of Father Montigny were not to be despised," said Henry maliciously.

"Father Montigny disposes of nothing here," said Alvarez. "This is to be done because I think it best."

Then he and Wyatt went out, but that afternoon when Alvarez was sitting in the cool shadow of the pillared portico, there came to him a man, dusty, and riding fast, who delivered to him a document sealed with red seals, and important in appearance.

When Alvarez read the paper he frowned, and then cursed under his breath. It was written in plain letters and its meaning was plain, also. It stated that Bernardo Galvez, the Governor General at New Orleans, had learned that his brave and loyal captain, Don Francisco Louis Philip Ferdinand Alvarez, held in his possession four prisoners from Kaintock, persons of daring, whose presence in Louisiana might be of great significance. Therefore His Excellency, Bernardo Galvez, Governor General of Louisiana, commanded his trusty and loyal captain, Don Francisco Louis Philip Ferdinand Alvarez, to bring the aforesaid four prisoners, from Kaintock, to New Orleans at once.

"At once!" repeated Alvarez angrily to himself. "That means not next week but now, and I am compelled to obey. To refuse or to evade would make a breach too soon."

He sent for Braxton Wyatt and told him of the letter. The renegade was startled, but he counseled immediate obedience from motives of policy.

"How could Galvez have known?" said Alvarez. "How could the news have reached New Orleans so soon?"

"Perhaps the priest has told," suggested Wyatt.

"No, that is impossible. He came from up river, and I am glad to say that he left again in his canoe this morning. Those Capuchins to whom he belongs shall be well punished, if I gain the power in Louisiana. They shall be expelled, every one of them, from New Orleans, and their old rivals, the Jesuits, shall take their place. It's one of the first things that I mean to do."

"It would be a wise thing to do," said Braxton Wyatt. He cared nothing for either Capuchin or Jesuit, but he hated and feared Father Montigny, and would be glad to know that he was driven from the country.

"We must start in the morning," said Alvarez. "It will not take us long to reach New Orleans by the river, and I can spin a tale that will lull the suspicions of Galvez."

"You can prove many things by me," said Braxton Wyatt significantly.

"Yes, Senor Wyatt, you are a good lieutenant," said Alvarez, and he meant it. "We will make our preparations to-night and start with a strong force in the morning. We need not bring the prisoners forth until we are ready."

Alvarez, slept peacefully that night. He had recovered his spirits, shaken by the arrival of the King's messenger. Aided by the dexterous renegade, Braxton Wyatt, he would soon persuade Bernardo Galvez that he had acted for the best in the matter of the men from Kaintock.

He rose early the next morning and, as a mark of signal favor, invited Braxton Wyatt to take breakfast with him. While they sat together Luiz came in with a long face.

"Now what is it, my brave Luiz?" said Alvarez, who was in an exceeding good humor, "why this saturnine countenance?"

"I beg to report, your Excellency," said Luiz, "that the Natchez Indian whom they call The Cat had been found dead in the forest, of a knife thrust that came out behind the shoulder."

"That is bad," said Alvarez. "Have they found out who did it?"

"No, Your Excellency. There were some signs of a struggle, and a few traces of foot-steps, but the trail was gone before they had followed it a dozen yards."

"We have lost a good man," said Alvarez, "a matchless spy and trailer, but it cannot be helped. I suppose it was a quarrel with some savage like himself. I would investigate the matter, but we have not time now. Come, Luiz, we will take out the prisoners, and then to the boats."

He led the way across the grass to the log house,—two sentinels, again it was Carlos and Juan—walked up and down in front of it—and the Spanish captain was pleased at their vigilance. He gave them a very good morning as they saluted respectfully.

"Unlock the door, Luiz," he said. "This is a strong prison and a close one. I've no doubt our gallants from Kaintock, where there is much room, will be glad to be outside again."

Luiz inserted the huge iron key, turned it in the lock, and threw wide the door. Alvarez looked in, and then uttered a cry so charged with rage that even Braxton Wyatt was startled. He pressed close up to his chief and gazed over his shoulder.

The prison was empty!

"What does this mean?" shouted Alvarez at the trembling sentinels. "The prisoners have escaped! Idiots! Blind men! What have you been doing? Have you helped them yourselves? If it is so, both of you shall be shot!"

The unfortunates, Carlos and Juan, stared at the empty prison and crossed themselves. "Witchcraft," muttered Carlos, the readier of the two. "We have watched faithfully all night, my captain. We saw nothing, we heard nothing, and the door was locked, as you behold. We are honest men and we have been faithful!"

Braxton Wyatt pointed to the dark corner of the prison.

"See," he said, "that is how they went."

Heaped against the wall was a pile of dirt, and in its place a hole large enough to admit a man's body led under the logs. The Spaniard cried out in rage again.

"We see how they have gone!" he exclaimed, "but in what way did they do it? Who has helped them!"

Braxton Wyatt examined the tunnel. The bottom logs of the cabin rested squarely upon the ground, after the primitive fashion. The floor was of bark, and a section of this had been lifted. The prisoners had then dug their hole under the log.

"It was done with metal tools of some kind," said Wyatt. "But they had nothing when we locked them in here. I can swear to that, as I was one of those who searched them well."

"Then they must have had help!" exclaimed Alvarez, and again he turned fiercely upon the sentinels, but Braxton Wyatt intervened. He was glad that he could patronize Alvarez at least once and show himself to be the superior in discernment.

"These men, Your Excellency, of whom I told you to beware, were five," he said. "We captured four, therefore one was left, and I said beware of him, even alone. He is a fellow of great cunning and skill who would try anything. He has come for his comrades, and he has taken them away with him."

"It must be as you say," said Alvarez, seeking now to hide his anger. He was not sorry on the whole that the sentinels were obviously innocent, as he needed as many adherents as he could keep, in order to carry out his great plan.

"Knowing that the window was too small to admit them, we watched only the front where the door is, Your Excellency," said Carlos, still trembling. "Who would have dreamed that these men of Kaintock were magicians, that without picks or shovels they could burrow under the earth and be gone like ghosts."

"Begone yourselves!" exclaimed Alvarez. "Get ready for the boats at once!"

Carlos and Juan fled away, glad to escape the sight of their master.

"Now that they have escaped, what do you think they will do?" asked Alvarez of Wyatt.

"They will go to New Orleans," replied the renegade promptly, "and appear before Bernardo Galvez to denounce you."

"Then our own start must not be delayed a moment!" exclaimed Alvarez.

In an hour he and his force were ready to embark.



CHAPTER XIII

THE WHITE STALLION

Shif'less Sol led the way through the forest and four ghostly figures followed in single file. They made no noise as they passed among the cypresses and magnolias, and oaks of the drooping foliage. No one spoke, but the leader laughed more than once in his throat, a laugh which never passed the lips, but which was full of satisfaction nevertheless. He felt that he, Solomon Hyde, nicknamed the shiftless one, had not lived in vain. He had achieved the greatest triumph of a life already crowded with dangers and deeds. To use the phrase of a later day, it was his crowded hour, and his four comrades gave him all the honor and glory of it.

They came presently to a still, dark channel of water, the bayou, and stopped on its bank. A light wind had risen, and as it blew among the cypresses and magnolias and oaks of the drooping foliage, it blew the song of the triumph of Shif'less Sol. The moonlight fell on his face now and as his features drew into a smile he, at last, permitted himself to laugh outright.

"It was wonderful, Sol," said Henry. "We always knew that you were near us, and we knew, too, that because you were near us we were near to freedom."

He stepped forward, grasped the hand of the shiftless one, and gave it a fervent shake. Paul at once did the same, then followed Long Jim and Tom Ross. Shif'less Sol's face became beatific. He had received his silent tribute and it was enough. The flavor of it would be with him all the rest of his life.

"What did you fellers think?" he asked, "when them two big knives came fallin' down on the floor. I'd hev called to you, but I wuz afeard I'd stir up them two sentinels on the other side of the house."

"We knew it was you, Sol," replied Paul, "and we knew then that our escape was certain. Where did you get the knives?"

"I stole them from a tool house," replied Sol with pride. "I guess they use 'em to cut cane with, or something like that."

"We certainly cut dirt with 'em at a great rate," said Henry, "and here we are free, the five of us together again, but without arms except the two knives you threw to us."

The moonlight was deepening and the shiftless one stood in the center of it. His figure seemed suddenly to swell and the calm, victorious light of the supreme conqueror came into his eyes.

"Boys," he said, and his voice was even and precise, as a victor's should be, "when I undertook this here job o' settin' us on our feet agin, I undertook to do it all. I not only meant to put us on our feet, but to git us ready fur runnin', too. Boys, I hev took 'The Gall-yun' from the Spaniards ag'in an' she's waitin' fur us."

"What! what!" they cried in chorus. "You don't mean it, Sol?"

"I shorely do mean it. All the boats that they expect to use to-day wuz anchored in the bi-yoo or hay-yoo or whatever they call it. 'The Gall-yun,' our gall-yun, wuz at the end o' the line nearest to the big river. Nobody wuz on board, but she wuz tied to the boat next to her. I slipped on her—it was pow'ful dark then an' the Spaniards wuz keepin' a slip-shod watch, anyhow—cut the rope an' floated her down the stream, where I've tied her up under sech thick brush that nobody 'cept ourselves is likely to find her. She'll be thar, waitin' fur us, an' don't you doubt it. An' fellers all our rifles an' ammunition an' things are on her. It wuz the captain's boat, an' I s'pose he thought he might ez well hev them trophies, an' use 'em."

"Is this really true, Sol?" exclaimed Paul, although he did not doubt.

"Gospel truth. We're jest ez well off ez we wuz afore we wuz captured. I don't think, either, them Spaniards will miss 'The Gall-yun' until mornin'. So we kin be up an' away with somethin' o' a start."

"Lead on, Sol," said Henry.

Sol led, and resumed the noiseless Indian file. They found the good ship, "The Galleon," under the overhanging bushes where Sol had left her, and rejoicingly they took possession again of the boat, their arms, and supplies.

"Now for New Orleans and the Governor General," said Paul, as they pushed out into the bayou. There was no current here, but their powerful arms at the oars soon sent the boat into the Mississippi. There they set the sail which had been left unchanged, and as a good wind caught it they went on at a quickening pace. Wind, current, and oars combined made the low banks pass swiftly by.

It was now the darkest hour and all things were veiled. Each felt a great satisfaction. They had the courage, after such a great and skillful escape, to attempt anything.

"It's only lately that I've been gittin' friendly with the Missip," said Shif'less Sol. "It's a pow'ful big river an' a new one, but me an' this river are already jest like brothers. It ought all to belong to us people o' Kentucky. When we git to be a great big settled country, hev we got to float everything down it, right in among the Spaniards or the French, an' they able to stop us ef they want to? 'Pears to me thar oughtn't to be anything but a string o' free countries all along the length o' this big river."

"I think that is what is likely to happen," said Paul looking into the future, as he did so often. "We'll always be pressing down, and we can't help it."

"Anyhow," resumed Shif'less Sol, "I'm glad that we've left that thar place o' Booly, or Bee-yu-ly, or whatever they call it. Funny these furrin' people can't pronounce names like they spell. Now we Americans, an' the English, who use our language, call words jest ez they are, but you never know what a Frenchman or a Spaniard is goin' to make out o' 'em."

They made good progress throughout the day, and saw no sign of the flotilla of Alvarez which they had feared might overtake them. They were agreed that it would be wise for them to reach New Orleans first, and hence they went boldly forward into the country that they regarded as that of the enemy, confident of their fortune.

The river widened and narrowed frequently, but always it was very deep. It was not beautiful here, but the vast current flowing between low shores had a somber majesty all its own. Its effect upon the imagination of every one of them was heightened by the knowledge that the stream had come an immeasurable distance, from unknown regions, and that in the coming it had gathered into itself innumerable other rivers, most of which also had come from lands of mystery.

They stopped one morning in the mouth of a clear creek that flowed into the Mississippi, and decided to spend the day in making repairs, a general cleaning-up, and a search for fresh food. It was the universal opinion that they would profit more by such a halt than by pushing on regardless of everything.

It was a beautiful spot in which they lay. They had gone about a hundred yards up the creek, and its waters here, about thirty feet across and five or six feet deep, were perfectly transparent. But this silver stream the moment it entered the Mississippi was lost in the great, brown current, swallowed up in an instant by the giant river.

The banks of the creek were low and on either side brilliant wild flowers grew to the very water's edge. Ferns, lilies, and other plants of deeper hues, were massed in great beds that ran from the creek edges back to the forest. Tall birds on immensely long and slender legs stood in the shallower water and now and then as quick as a flash of lightning darted down a hooked bill. Invariably the bill came up with a fish struggling in its grasp.

Beautiful flamingoes hovered about the bank and many birds of brilliant plumage darted from tree to tree. Few of these sang, except the mocking bird, which gave forth an incessant mellow note. But it was a scene of uncommon peace and beauty and all felt its influence.

Henry looked at the creek and the forest through which it came with an appreciative eye. He knew because the waters of the creek were clear that it must flow through hard, firm ground, and he was thinking at that moment of a plan which he intended to carry out later.

Their first work was with the boat. In its long voyage on the river it had gathered mud and other objects on its bottom. This they could see perfectly now that it lay in the clear water, and Shif'less Sol and Jim Hart volunteered to scrape it with two of the shovels that were contained in the invaluable store house of "The Galleon."

Their offer was accepted, and taking off their clothing, they sprang into the water. Once a huge cat fish from the Mississippi, unused to man, brushed against Long Jim's leg, its horn raking him slightly. With a shout Long Jim sprang almost out of the water and clambered up the side of the boat.

"Somethin' big bit me!" he cried. "It took one uv my legs with him!"

"It's only a scared cat fish and you still have two legs, Jim," replied Henry laughing boyishly, because a boy he was in spite of his size and experience.

Jim looked down, and a great smile of delight unfolded like a fan across his face from side to side.

"Guess you're right, Henry," he said, "an' I am still all in one piece."

He sprang back into the water, and he and Sol soon finished their task. After that it was arranged that Sol, Jim, and Tom should give a thorough furbishing to the boat's interior, wash and dry their spare clothing and bedding, while Henry and Paul went on a hunt for a deer to replenish their larder.

"You see, Paul," said Henry, "the waters of this creek are quite clear, which means that it comes through good, hard ground. It's likely that it isn't far back to one of the little prairies which I've heard are common in this part of Louisiana, and in a wild country like this where there's a prairie there's pretty likely to be deer."

The logic seemed good to Paul. At any rate he was willing enough to go on a hunt, stretch his legs, and see a new region. Saying that they should probably be gone all day they started at once, leaving the others absorbed in the task of housecleaning.

They reached solid ground not far from the creek's edge and walked along briskly, following the course of the stream back toward its source. The soil was black and deep and the forest magnificent. Great beeches and hickories were mingled with the willows and live oaks and cypresses, and the foliage was thick, green, and beautiful. The birds seemed innumerable, and now and then flocks of wild fowl rose with a whir from the creek's edge. Keen, penetrating odors of forest and wild flower came to their nostrils.

Both boys threw up their heads, inhaled the odors, and thrilled in every fiber. They were very young, care could never stay with them long and now they felt only the sheer, pure delight of living. They looked back. The forest had already shut out their boat, and one who did not know would not have dreamed that the longest river in the world was only a mile or two away. They were alone in the wilderness and they did not care. They were sufficient, for the moment, each to the other.

As they advanced, the creek narrowed and the forest thickened. The trees not only grew closer together, but there was a vast mass and network of trailing vines, extended from trunk to trunk and bough to bough. One huge oak in the very center of an intricate maze of vines was drawn far over and its boughs were twisted into strange, distorted shapes. It was obvious to both that the vines, singly so feeble, collectively so powerful, had done it, and they stood a moment or two wondering at this proof of the power of united and unceasing effort.

They went a mile or so further on, and Henry led the way toward the left and from the creek. An instinct or the lay of the land, perhaps, warned him that the open country was in that direction. The trees, had begun to thin already, and in another mile they came out upon a beautiful little rolling prairie. It was quite clear of trees; grass, mingled with wild flowers, grew high upon it, and at the far edge they saw the figures of animals grazing.

"Deer!" exclaimed Paul. "There they are, Henry! Just waiting for us!"

Henry took a long and keen look, then shook his head.

"No, not deer, Paul," he said. "Now guess what they are."

"They can't be buffaloes," replied Paul. "I think, Henry, I'm right; they're deer."

"No," said Henry, "they're horses."

"Horses! Why there are no plantations hereabouts!"

"Not tame horses. Wild horses. Descendants of the horses that the Spaniards brought to Mexico two or three hundreds ago."

"And which have been spreading northward ever since," continued Paul, alive with interest. "Let's try to get a near look at them, Henry."

"I'm with you," said Henry.

Full of boyish curiosity they went around the prairie, keeping in the edge of the woods until they came much nearer to the herd of wild horses, which numbered about thirty. As a considerable wind was blowing their odor away from the animals, they could approach very closely without their presence being suspected.

The horses were clean limbed and well-shaped, and all except one were small and dark of color. But that one was a noticeable exception. He was almost pure white, far larger than the others, and he had a great flowing white mane and tail.

The herd grazed in a bunch, but the magnificent white stallion stood apart on the side next to the woods. He, too, grazed at intervals, but most of the time he stood, head erect like a sentinel or rather a leader. It seemed to both the boys that his whole attitude was full of spirit and majesty, the vast freedom of the wilderness. He carried, too, the responsibility for the whole herd and he knew it.

"A prairie King," whispered Paul. "Wouldn't I like to catch such a splendid animal, Henry, and ride him into New Orleans!"

"No you wouldn't, Paul," replied Henry, "That stallion wasn't made to be ridden by anybody. Look. Paul, look!"

Henry's last word rose to an excited whisper, and Paul's gaze quickly followed his pointing finger. Even then he would not have seen anything had he not looked long and carefully. At last he made out a long, tawny shape on a low-lying bough of a tree at the very edge of the forest. The shape was flattened against the bough and almost blended with it.

"A panther!" whispered Paul.

Henry nodded. It was, in fact, a large specimen of the panther or southern cougar, and Henry whispered again:

"See what he is after!"

A small colt from the herd had wandered dangerously near to the forest and the bough on which the cougar lay, watching him with the yellow, famished eyes of the great, hungry cat.

"Shoot him, Henry! Shoot him!" whispered Paul. "You can reach him with a bullet from here. Don't let him kill the poor, little colt!"

"I'd do it if it were needed," replied Henry, "but I don't think it will be. See, Paul, the Prairie King suspects!"

The great white stallion raised his head a little higher. It may be that he caught a glimpse of the tawny form and yellow, hungry eyes amid the foliage of the bough, or it may be that a sudden flaw in the wind brought to his nostrils the pungent odor of the big cat. He reared and stamped, the startled colt turned away, and the cougar, afraid that he was about to lose his chance, sprang.

A yellow compact mass, bristling with sharp, white teeth and long, hooked claws shot through the air, but the distance was too great. The colt had turned just in time, and the cougar fell short. He gathered himself instantly for another spring, but quick as he was, he was not quick enough.

The boys heard a fierce neigh, and the great stallion, wild with rage, launched himself upon the cougar. Agile and powerful though the great cat was, the sharp hoofs trampled him down. Taken at a disadvantage, just at the moment when his first spring had spent itself, he was no match for the protector of the herd. No bone could resist the impact of those heavy terrible hoofs. No skull was thick enough to save. The cougar squealed, clawed, and bit wildly, but in an incredibly quick space he was trampled to death and lay quite still. The boys believed that every bone in him must have been broken.

The herd had run some distance away in fright at the cougar's leap, but while the swift combat lasted it stood looking on. Now the stallion, after a last look at the slain robber, turned and walked away in triumph to the herd that he had protected so well. It seemed to the glorified fancy of the boys that he held his head higher than ever, and that his great mane and tail flowed away in new ripples. He stalked proudly at the head of the herd down to the other side of the prairie, where they went placidly on with their grazing.

"That is certainly one thing that turned out right," said Paul in a gratified tone.

"The hoofs of a powerful and enraged wild stallion are a terrible thing," said Henry. "Even a deer, which is far smaller, can kill a man with its hoofs. But if you'll look again, Paul, you'll see that a new danger threatens our king of horses."

Paul followed Henry's gaze, and he distinctly saw two or three human figures at the edge of the wood. These figures were hidden from the horses by a swell of the prairies, and, as in the case of the cougar, the wind blew their odor away. "Indians?" asked Paul.

"I can't tell at this distance," replied Henry, "but it's more likely that they belong to the party of Alvarez, and perhaps they know that wild horses frequent this prairie and others hereabouts. See what they are doing!"

Paul saw well enough, One man carrying on his arm a coll of rope, the lariat of Mexico, lay down in the long grass which completely hid him, but both Henry and Paul knew that he was creeping forward inch by inch toward the beautiful stallion that was grazing not ten yards from the woods.

"When he comes close enough, if he can do so before the horse takes the alarm," said Henry, "he will throw the rope and catch the horse by the neck in the running noose at the end."

"But the horse will take alarm," said Paul hopefully.

"I don't know," said Henry. "He may think in his horse mind that one enemy in one day is as much as he has need to dread."

It seemed that Henry was right. Exultant in his victory over the cougar, the Prairie King had relaxed his vigilance. More often now his head was down, cropping the grass like the rest of the herd. Henry and Paul believed that they could see the grass rippling as the new and more cunning enemy crept forward. But it was only agile fancy—they were too far away.

"What ever happens it's bound to happen soon," said Henry.

Even as he spoke the man in the grass sprang to his feet, threw forth his right arm, and the rope shot out like a snake uncoiling itself as it sprang. Both Paul and Henry felt a pang when they saw the loop enclose the neck of the noble horse, while the man himself and his comrades uttered loud shouts of exultation.

"He has caught him!" exclaimed Paul sadly.

"Yes," said Henry, "and I'm sorry, but it was a wonderful feat of skill and patience!"

The frightened herd ran away, and the white stallion reared and struggled, his great eyes red and distended with rage and astonishment. Two men ran forward and seized the rope which their comrade had thrown so skillfully. Then the three pulled hard.

But the quarry was too magnificent. They had miscalculated the white stallion's strength. Caught by the neck, he dragged, nevertheless, all three over the prairie, and then, suddenly making a mighty lunge, tore the rope from their grasp, leaving them thrown headlong to the earth. Away he went, the long rope flying out behind him like a streamer.

Doubtless some failure of the noose to draw tightly around his neck had saved the horse, and this was proved when the rope catching in a bush slipped off over his head as he struggled again. Then the stallion, by chance, or because his horse's mind inclined him to it, uttered a long, shrill neigh of triumph, kicked his heels high in the air, and galloped away, his flowing tail streaming out behind him, a banner of triumph.

"He's won again," said Henry in a tone of gladness. "I told you that horse wasn't made ever to be ridden."

"But he has to struggle continually for life and freedom," said Paul.

"Just the same as we do," rejoined Henry. "See those fellows are picking themselves up; but they've been slow about it."

"I don't blame them. I fancy they suffered some pretty severe bruises when the horse jerked them down. Paul, I think I can make out two white faces in that party, which almost certainly means that they are the men of Alvarez. And it says to us that we ought to hurry."

"But not without our deer, I hope," said Paul. They gave one last look at the far edge of the prairie, where they could still dimly see the white stallion, now keeping well away from the woods.

"I don't think anything will get him," said Henry, "and I hope not. Just as we do, he loves to be free."

They, too, re-entered the woods and were fortunate enough to find a deer quickly. Henry was willing to risk the chance of the shot being heard by their enemies and his bullet brought it down. Then they cut up the body and took it back to the boat, where they told all that had occurred. The others agreed that if Alvarez and his men were in the vicinity they ought to leave at once, and, transferring the drying clothes from the bank to the boat, they entered the Mississippi once more and set sail down its stream.



CHAPTER XIV

NEW ORLEANS

They sailed and rowed steadily on for several days. Once or twice they saw canoes or boats containing white men, who regarded them curiously, but none approached. They inferred that they were now very near New Orleans, and all the five were alert with anticipation. Besides the accomplishment of their great task, they were about to visit a metropolis, a seat of government, a city of eight or ten thousand people, commanding the road to the heart of the North American continent, swarming with many races, and destined, as all the world then believed, to be the largest place in either America. It is no wonder that the bosoms of the five throbbed with curiosity, and that they looked forward to strange and varied sights.

"Now, Jim," said Shif'less Sol in a warning tone to Long Jim, "I've got advice to give you. I wuz in a big town once. I told you about that time I went to Baltimore when I wuz a little boy, an' so I'm fit to tell you how to behave. New Or-lee-yuns ain't like the woods, Jim. Don't you be too handy with your gun. Ef you see a man follerin' along behind you ez ef he wuz trailin' you, don't you up an' take a shot at him. Like ez not he's about his business, only it happens to be in the same direction that you're goin'. An', Jim, don't you go to gittin' dizzy, through seein' so many people about. Mebbe you don't think thar will be sech a crowd, but you'll believe it when you see it."

"Sol Hyde," rejoined Long Jim indignantly, "I'm sorry New Or-lee-yuns ain't right at the sea, 'cause the sea is salt, so I've heard, an' then ef I wuz to dip you in it three or four times it would do you a pow'ful lot uv good. Salt is shorely mighty helpful in the curin' up uv fresh things."

"There goes another of those canoes," said Paul, "but I can't tell whether it's a white man or an Indian in it."

"It's a white man," said Henry, "but I fancy it's a West Indian Frenchman or Spaniard. I've heard that some of them are as dark as Indians."

"Time to think 'bout tyin' up for the dark," said Tom Ross. "We might go on all night, but we need to save our strength fur to-morrow. What do you say to that little cove over thar on the west bank, Henry?"

"Looks as if it would be the right place," replied Henry, "and it is certainly time to stop. The sun seems to go down faster here than it does In Kentucky."

The twilight was spreading swiftly over the arch from west to east as they entered the cove and tied "The Galleon" to a live oak. Paul leaped joyfully ashore, glad to stretch his limbs again. The others quickly followed, and they set about gathering wood to build a fire. They were out of the Indian country now and they had no need to be cautious.

Paul bestirred himself looking for brushwood. Presently he found at the edge of the water a dead bough which was long enough to be broken into several sticks of convenient length. He picked it up, and for the purpose of breaking it brought it down heavily on a large brown log lying in the mud near the water.

To Paul's amazement and horror, the big brown log got into action at either end. One end, in the shape of a tail, whipped around at him, barely missing him, and the other end, splitting itself horizontally in half, revealed huge jaws lined with terrible teeth. Paul sprang back with a cry, and Henry, who was near, rifle in hand, fired a ball into the monster's brain. The big brown log, that was no log, turned partially over and died.

"An alligator," said Henry, "I've heard of them, but this is the first that I've ever seen."

"I've heard of them, too," said Paul, "but I never thought I'd walk almost into the mouth of one without knowing it."

Shif'less Sol had his grievance, too. "Now that's another o' the ways o' this here southern country!" he exclaimed in a pained tone, "A big, hungry, wild animal, tryin' to pass itself off ez, an old dead log. Up in Kentucky, a good honest bear, or even a sneakin' panther, would be ashamed to look you in the face after tryin' to play sech a low-down trick on a man."

"It is certainly a hideous brute," said Paul.

"I'm thinkin' that we'd better build our fire big," said Long Jim. "I don't want to wake up in the mornin' an' find myself devoured by an alligator, jest when I wuz about to reach the great town uv New Or-lee-yuns."

But they were not molested that night by either man or animal, and the next day, watchful and surcharged with interest, they approached New Orleans, which was bulking so large to them. The river looped out into a crescent and narrowed greatly. As they came to the city, the Mississippi did not seem to them to be more than a third of a mile wide, but they knew that it was extremely deep.

But there, snugly within the crescent, lay New Orleans, a town enclosed within palisaded fortifications that faced the levee for about a thousand yards, and that ran back perhaps half as far. The levee was lined with vessels. Already New Orleans was famous for shipping, and they saw the flags of many nations. Schooners there were and brigs and brigantines, and barks and barkentines, and other craft from Europe and the West Indies and South America. Near the shore was a great, high ship, from which the red and yellow flag of Spain fluttered in more than one place, while the muzzles of cannon protruded from her wooden sides.

"That's an armed galleon," said Paul.

"She's a big ship an' she's got lots o' men on her," said Shif'less Sol, "but I wouldn't trade our gall-yun fur her."

"No, our boat suits us best," said Henry.

They saw about them on the river many small craft like their own, ships, boats, canoes, barges, dug-outs, and other kinds, manned by white men, red men, yellow men, and brown men. They heard strange cries in foreign tongues, and now and then the sound of a trumpet blown at one of the forts in the palisaded wall. Officers in brilliant uniforms appeared on the levee.

The eyes of Long Jim Hart opened wider and wider.

"It shorely is a big town," he said. "Sol, I'd been thinkin' that you an' Paul wuz tellin' a good deal that ain't, but I reckon it's the truth. The world has a lot more people than I thought it had. I'm pow'ful glad I came."

They turned "The Galleon" toward the levee, and an officer in a boat pulled by four uniformed oarsmen hailed them in Spanish, which none of them understood.

"Must be a harbor master or something of that kind," said Henry.

They brought "The Galleon" to a stop, and the other boat came alongside. The officer in the bow was a Catalan, richly dressed, and small, but with a thin, alert face. He looked at the five with as much curiosity as they looked at him. Secretly he admired their splendid shoulders and chests, and their obvious strength. He was acute enough, too, to guess whence they came. Lieutenant Diego Bernal had not been two years in New Orleans for nothing.

"You come from Kaintock?" he said in fair and not unfriendly English.

"Yes," replied Henry, "we are all the way from Kentucky, and we have an important message for the Governor General, Bernardo Galvez. Can you tell us how to reach him?"

Lieutenant Diego Bernal glanced at "The Galleon," which was obviously of Spanish build, but he was a shrewd officer who would make his way in the world and he knew that many strange things passed inspection in this great Franco-Spanish metropolis of New Orleans.

"His Excellency, the Governor General," he replied, "is now at his house at the corner of Toulouse street and Rue de la Levee, but it is too late for you to see him to-day. To-morrow morning you may secure audience with him if you have the important message that you say."

The five disregarded the ironical tone in his voice. They were good enough judges of character to surmise that Lieutenant Diego Bernal, whose name and career were unknown to them, did not care a particle how they had come into possession of the boat which was so obviously of Spanish build. There was no advantage to him in asking too many questions, and he calmly waved them to a landing.

They pulled in and tied their boat to the levee, while men and women, white, yellow, brown, and black, and all the colors between, stood about and looked at the giants from Kaintock, where people were reported to be of such extraordinary size and ferocity, and where they certainly were, as their own eyes could tell them, of uncommon height and strength, even boys such as they saw Henry and Paul to be.

While the five were engaged in this task, rabbais, or peddling merchants, some Provencals and some Catalans came to sell them goods, which they carried in coffin-shaped vehicles pushed before them. They had wares, mostly small articles from Spain and France and the West Indies. Colored women carrying immense cans of milk or coffee on their heads passed by or lingered in hope of a sale. Others were calling for sale callas and cakes tous chauds in monotonous, drawling voices. Negresses, also, were trying to sell belles chandelles, which were dirty candles made from green myrtle wax, the chief light then sold in the city.

The five understood the gestures of this rabble, although not their words, and waved them away, not caring to buy anything.

"Keep cool, Jim! keep cool!" said Shif'less Sol. "Don't shoot. They don't want to kill you; they jest want to rob you."

"Depends on what they want to rob me uv," replied Long Jim with a grin. "I never had more'n ten shillin's at one time in my life, an' I've got a purty strong grip on my rifle an' the clothes that I hev on."

"I think we'd better go ashore an' do a little scoutin'," said Tom Ross. "It's always well to know the groun' on which you're goin' to act."

"No doubt of it, Tom," said Henry, "and we'll all go together."

They had a little money of English coinage which was taken readily in cosmopolitan New Orleans, and with two shillings they hired a levee watchman, whom they judged they could trust, to look after "The Galleon." Then, rifle on shoulder, they entered the fortified city by the gate called Chemin des Tchoupitoulas. Spain, officially at least, was the friend of the colonies and the enemy of England, and the sentinels at the gate readily passed them after a few questions.

Here they asked again for the Governor General, Bernardo Galvez, and the statement of Lieutenant Diego Bernal that he could not be seen was confirmed. He had arrived only a few hours before from a two days' expedition down the river, and was now immersed in important papers that had awaited his coming.

They saw the Governor General's house, a one-story building fronting the river with a gallery on one side, gardens on the other, and kitchen and outbuildings behind. They looked longingly at it, as they desired very much to see Bernardo Galvez at once. But presently they passed on into the Place d'Armes, a wide open space used as a review ground. At the very moment they entered it a company of Spanish soldiers were going through their evolutions, and, after the fashion of to-day, children and their dark-faced nurses were watching them. The five did not think much of the soldiers, who seemed to them to be dwarfed and without zeal.

"Ef ever Kentucky comes down the long river," said Shif'less Sol, "it will take bigger men than these to hold her back."

Paul's gaze wandered from the soldiers, and he saw in a corner of the Place d'Armes a great wooden gallows that made him shudder. It was a gallows very often used, too, and any one could have pointed out to Paul the spot in the middle of the Place d'Armes where five gallant French gentlemen, among the best citizens of New Orleans, had been shot not long before for planning to throw off the rule of Spain and make Louisiana a free republic.

They strolled on, still filled with curiosity and gratifying it. They saw many buildings that surpassed anything hitherto in their experience, the brick parish church, on the site of which the Cathedral of St. Louis was afterwards built, the arsenal, the jail, and the house of the Capuchins, who had lately triumphed over the Jesuits. The largest building of all that they saw was the convent of the Ursuline Nuns, standing in the city square on the river front, and this was, in fact, the largest building in New Orleans.

While there were many houses of brick, the cheaper were of cypress wood, and the sidewalks were only four or five feet wide, with a wooden drain for a gutter. There was no paving of the streets, which, now deep in dust, would turn to quagmires when the rain came. At long intervals were wooden posts with projecting arms from which hung oil lamps, to be lighted when nightfall came.

Long Jim uttered an exclamation of disgust, and gripped his nose firmly between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

"I never smelt sech smells afore in all my life," he said, pointing to the heaps of garbage scattered about. "A big town like this here is pow'ful interestin', but it ain't clean. Paul, remember them great forests up thar in Kentucky an' across the Ohio! Remember how clean an' nice the ground is! Remember all them big, fine, friendly trees, millions an' millions uv 'em! Remember all them nice little springs uv clean, cold water, clear enough to be lookin' glasses, one, an' sometimes more, every three or four hundred yards! Remember all them nice smells uv the wild flowers, an' the trees, an' the grass, an' me settin' at the foot uv the biggest tree uv 'em all, cookin' on a roarin' fire, fat, juicy buffaler an' deer steaks fur you fellers!"

"I remember," replied Paul smiling. "I remember it all, and I do believe, Jim, that you are homesick for the woods."

"Not homesick eggzackly, but I jest want to say that a big town like this kin be mighty interestin', but after I've seed it, give me back our own clean woods."

"I believe I agree with you, Jim," said Paul thoughtfully.

They strolled back into the Place d'Armes, where the review was still in progress, and where more people were gathering. The women were bare-headed, and generally wore a short round skirt, and long basque like overgarments, the two invariably of different, but bright, colors. All of them wore much ribbon and jewelry, but, as a rule, they were too dark of countenance to suit the ideas of the five concerning feminine beauty. At rare intervals, however, they saw a girl with light hair and light eyes and light complexion, and all these were really handsome.

"Those, I imagine, are French," said Paul. "We've got into the habit of thinking of the French as always dark, but many of them are fair. I've heard our school teacher, Mr. Pennypacker, say so often, and he ought to know. For the matter of that, some of the Spaniards are light, too."

"Yes, thar's Alvarez," said Shif'less Sol. "He's light, an' that's one reason why I mistrusted him the first time I saw him. It looks more nateral fur a Spaniard to be dark."

As they stood in the Place d'Armes looking at the sights, the five themselves began to attract much attention. Their height and strength, their long, sender barreled rifles, and their deerskin attire made them highly picturesque figures. The motley population of New Orleans was used to all kinds of people, armed or unarmed, but generally armed. These, however, were different. They bore themselves with dignity, there was about them an air of absolute simplicity and honesty, and they kept close together in a manner that indicated a faithful brotherhood, closer even than the brotherhood of blood. They seemed to come from another world than that which furnished so many desperate adventurers and former galley slaves to New Orleans.

Henry noticed the attention that they were attracting, and he did not like it.

"Perhaps, boys, we'd better go back to our boat," he said.

But before any one could answer he was tapped lightly on the arm and, turning about, he saw the small, trim figure of Lieutenant Diego Bernal, who had been the first man to greet them as they entered New Orleans.

"We met on the water, as you know," said the little lieutenant, smiling in a friendly manner. "My name is Bernal, Diego Bernal, and I am a lieutenant in the service of our most excellent Governor General, Bernardo Galvez."

His manner was polite, and Henry met him half way. He had nothing to conceal, and he gave him the names of his comrades and himself. Lieutenant Bernal all the time was regarding them shrewdly.

"It is evident that you are mighty men despite the youth of some of you," he said, "and I begin to suspect it from other facts also."

"What other facts?" asked Henry.

"Now, there is the matter of your boat," replied the lieutenant jauntily. "I had a belief, wrong no doubt, that she was of Spanish build. I also seemed to have a recollection, wrong, too, no doubt, that I had once seen Francisco Alvarez, the chief of our captains, aboard that boat and bearing himself in a manner that indicated ownership. I am wrong, no doubt. My impressions are often false and my memory always weak. Gladly would I stand correction. Gladly would I be convinced that I am misled by some fancied resemblance."

"Them's pow'ful big words," said Long Jim.

Henry, who was always the leader of the five when they were together, looked into the eyes of Diego Bernal, and he seemed to see there the curious contraction that is called a wink. He gave judgment at once concerning Diego Bernal.

"I take it," he said by way of reply, "that you are no great friend of the captain, Francisco Alvarez?"

"If a higher officer rebukes you unjustly and sneers at a commander whom you respect and like, is it calculated to promote friendship?"

The gaze of the two met again, and Henry understood.

"I see what your choice would be if you were compelled to choose between Bernardo Galvez and Francisco Alvarez," he said. "It may be that you will have to make such a choice, and I will tell you, too, that the boat did belong to the Captain Alvarez. We took it from him because, first, he made an outrageous attack upon us; secondly, he is plotting to set all the Indian tribes upon us in Kentucky, aided with Spanish soldiers and Spanish guns, and, thirdly, he hopes to become Governor General of Louisiana, and commit Spain to an alliance with England in the war upon the Americans."

Henry spoke boldly and earnestly, and the others nodded assent.

Lieutenant Diego Bernal, a trim, dandified little man, drew forth from the pocket of his waistcoat a small gold snuff box and delicately took a pinch of snuff, a habit to which the five were unaccustomed.

"Speak it low, my friend," he said deliberately. "All this, if it be true, is great news, and you do right in coming to New Orleans to see Bernardo Galvez. Can you prove it when you see the Governor General?"

"We can give proofs," replied Henry guardedly.

"It is well, and I am pleased that I have met you. Know then that I am the enemy of Francisco Alvarez, and that I may aid you. Who can tell? It is well for strangers to have friends in New Orleans. I have an impression that I have some influence. I am usually wrong and my memory is always weak, but this particular impression persists, nevertheless."

Long Jim opened his mouth in wonder.

"'Pears strange to me," he said, "that a furrin man kin pick more big words out uv our language, an' rope 'em together than we kin."

Lieutenant Diego Bernal smiled. He was pleased.

"I learned English when I was a boy," he said, "and now it serves me well. I would hear more of your news, gentlemen, but for the present I wish to offer you refreshments. Come with me, if you please."

He led the way into a low building of brick, an inn fashioned after the manner of those in France.

They entered the public room, which was large and square, with a fairly clean, sanded floor, and many men about drinking liquors unknown to the five.

They took seats at a table in a rather retired corner, and gazed with interest at the variegated crowd. Many of the men wore great, gold rings in their ears, something entirely new to the five, and others were tattooed in strange designs. They drank deep and swore much and loudly in strange tongues. Also, they smoked cigarros, cigarritos, and pipes, and there was scarcely one present who did not have either knife or pistol or both at belt.

"Undoubtedly there is more than one pirate from the Gulf or the Caribbean among them," said Lieutenant Bernal, "but the pirates perhaps are not the worst. Louisiana and New Orleans can supply many a desperate villain of their own."

"Sent by Europe!" said Paul.

"Truly so. An old country always seeks to disgorge such people upon a new one. But Monsieur Gilibert, the proprietor of this inn, on the whole, maintains good order among his customers. As you can now see, Monsieur Gilibert is a man of parts."

The proprietor, wearing a cook's cap and white apron, emerged that moment from his kitchen. He was not above supervising, and even doing his own cooking, and, because of it, his inn had acquired a great reputation for excellence of food, as well as drink.

Many of the French in New Orleans were Provencals, but Monsieur Gilibert was from the North of France, a huge, flaxen-haired man with a large square chin, and a fearless countenance. His blue eye roved around the room and lighted upon the five and their host, Lieutenant Diego Bernal, at the secluded table. He noted that every one of the five had a long rifle leaning by his chair, and he shrewdly surmised that they were from the wilderness of the far North.

Monsieur Francois Eugene Gilibert did not love the Spanish, although he did like Lieutenant Diego Bernal, who was a Catalan and therefore, in the opinion of Monsieur Gilibert, almost a Frenchman. Neither did he like the passing of New Orleans from the French into the hands of the Spanish, although trade was as good as ever at his Inn of Henri Quatre, despite the narrow Spanish rule, which was not to his taste. It was perhaps one half his love of freedom and one-half his objection to the rule of Spain that made him look with friendly eyes upon any far wanderers from Kaintock.

He strolled to the table and greeted Lieutenant Bernal, who returned his greeting pleasantly and gave the names of the five.

"They come from Kaintock," said the lieutenant, significantly, "and they do not like Francisco Alvarez."

"Ah," said Monsieur Gilibert, who also spoke English. "I do not love that man Alvarez. He is the enemy of the French."

"Not more than he is of Kaintock," said the Lieutenant. Then he turned to the five and said:

"I did not bring you here merely to hear words. I wish something to drink for my friends, kind Monsieur Gilibert. The inn has rum of both New England and Barbadoes, Spanish and French wines. Now what shall it be?"

He turned to the five, and as they answered, one by one, the eyes of the young Spanish lieutenant opened wider and wider in astonishment. They had never tasted rum and were quite sure they would not care for it. Wine they knew, almost as little about, using that they had found on "The Galleon" chiefly as a medicine, and they ended, one and all, by choosing a mild West Indian drink, a kind of orange water. Lieutenant Bernal reached over and with his two hands felt gingerly of Henry's mighty right arm.

"Do you mean to tell me," he said, "that such a muscle and such a body have been built up and nourished by things as mild as orange water?"

"Not orange water, but plain water," replied Henry laughing. "But in Maryland where I was born, and in Kentucky, where I've been growing up, the water is very good, clear, pure, and cold."

"Will you kindly stand up a moment?" said the lieutenant.

Henry promptly stood up and then Lieutenant Diego Bernal, standing by the side of him, was about a head the shorter. Then the young lieutenant made a wry face.

"And I have drunk wine all my life," he said plaintively, "and he has drunk only water!"

The two sat down again, and the others laughed. Their talk and actions had attracted the attention of a number in the room, and a large man with great gold bands in his ears, rose and sauntered over toward them. He was a dark fellow, evidently a West Indian Spaniard with a dash of Carib.

"I have drunk rum and wine and all other liquors all my life," he said, "but I am neither little nor weak."

His tone was truculent, and his flushed face indicated that he had already taken too much.

"Go away, Menocal," said Monsieur Gilibert, in a voice half soothing, half warning. "I do not wish my guests to be annoyed."

But Menocal would not turn away. He put his hand upon Henry's shoulder.

"This is a great youth," he said. "They grow large in the new country to the north that they call Kaintock, but I, Alonzo Menocal of Santo Domingo, am the stronger. Stand up, thou youth of Kaintock, by the side of me!"

Henry promptly stood up again, and the young giant towered above Alonzo Menocal of Santo Domingo, tall though the West Indian was. Moreover he had greater breadth of shoulder and a deeper chest.

"Ha, thou Kaintock!" exclaimed Menocal, "thou art the taller and the larger, but I am the stronger, as I shall quickly prove!"

The size of Henry acted as an irritant upon Menocal, already flushed with intoxicants, and he seized the youth by the waist in an attempt to hurl him to the floor and thus prove his superior strength. Henry, with an instant, powerful effort, threw oft the encircling arms, seized the West Indian by both shoulders, and made use of a trick that Shif'less Sol had taught him.

He thrust the man backward with a mighty shove, put out his foot, and Menocal went over it. But the West Indian did not touch the floor. Henry caught him by the neck and waist, and, with a great heave, lifted him high above his head. He held him there a moment, and then said gravely to Monsieur Francois Eugene Gilibert:

"Shall I cast him through yonder window, or put him back in the chair in which he was sitting before he came to us uninvited?"

Monsieur Gilibert looked longingly at the window—he was a man of strength and dexterity himself—and he admired great strength and great dexterity in others—but motives of prudence and humanity prevailed.

"Put him back in his chair," he said.

Henry walked all the way across the room and gently put the half-stunned man in a sitting position in his chair. A roar of applause shook the room at this remarkable performance, and Monsieur Gilibert was not the slackest among those who cheered. Never before had the Inn of Henri Quatre witnessed such an extraordinary feat of strength. Lieutenant Diego Bernal sprang to his feet and again seized Henry's right hand in both of his.

"Senor," he exclaimed, "it is an honor to me to deem myself your friend!"

Alonzo Menocal arose from his chair and came across the room. Paul's hand moved to the butt of the pistol in his belt, but the intentions of the West Indian were not hostile.

"Thou hast conquered," he said to Henry in his queer thee- and thou-English. "Thou art not only the taller and the larger, but also the stronger and the more skillful. It is the first time that Alonzo Menocal was ever picked up, carried across a room, and put down in his chair, as a mother puts her baby to bed."

He put out his hand in quite an American fashion, and Henry shook it, glad that the man was good-natured. More applause greeted this act of friendship by the two and, taking advantage of it, the five went out, accompanied by Lieutenant Bernal, all in great good humor.

Night was coming on, and they felt that it was time to return to "The Galleon." A man was already lighting the smoking oil lamps that hung from the wooden arms of the posts, and from one of the forts a sentinel was calling the hour.

New Orleans looked better under the softening hue of the twilight. Many of the asperities that go as a matter of course with newness were hidden, but the smells remained.

"Wish I could sleep in the woods to-night, with nuthin' but trees runnin' away at least ten miles in every direction," said Long Jim.

"It will be all right in our boat on the river," said Paul.

"I think I shall go with you as far as your boat," said Lieutenant Bernal.

"You're welcome. Come on," said Henry, confident of his friendship.

The five and the lieutenant walked swiftly toward the Mississippi.



CHAPTER XV

BEFORE BERNARDO GALVEZ

It took only a few minutes to reach the banks of the stream, and they saw at once that an event was occurring. New Orleans could rejoice, if she choose, in honor of an important arrival.

A fleet of a dozen large boats swung from the middle of the stream and made for the levee. In the boats were men in uniform.

"I have an impression, though my impressions are often wrong and my memory always weak, that yonder cavalier who sits haughtily in the boat as if he were sole proprietor of the Mississippi, is your good friend, Don Francisco Alvarez," said Lieutenant Bernal in his mincing way.

They had all recognized Alvarez, and they expected quick trouble. As it was bound to come they had no objection to its coming at once. The boat of Alvarez made the landing and as he sprang out he was followed by Braxton Wyatt, also in the uniform of a Spanish officer. The eyes of the Captain instantly caught sight of "The Galleon," then of the five, and then of Lieutenant Diego Bernal standing near the Americans.

"Men," he cried to some of his soldiers who had landed. "Seize this boat at once! It is my property, taken from me by these American thieves!"

The soldiers moved to obey, but the little Catalan, Lieutenant Diego Bernal stepped forward. Never was he more mincing, and it is likely that he never felt more satisfaction than he did now at the role that he was about to play.

"Gently! Gently! my good captain," he said. "I am a port officer and boats cannot be seized at will in His Most Catholic Majesty's city of New Orleans."

His manner stung Alvarez, who replied hotly:

"I repeat, it is my boat! It was stolen from me by these thieves from Kaintock!"

"But that must be proved," and the lieutenant's voice was very soft and silky. "The law is still administered in the City of New Orleans. And let me assure you, my good captain, that the matter of the boat is a trifle. What really concerns is your delay in coming to New Orleans with your American captives, whom you held at your place of Beaulieu. His Excellency, the Governor General, Don Bernardo Galvez, is very much afraid that you have involved Spain in serious difficulties with a friendly people."

Alvarez looked fiercely at Bernal. How much did this man know? But the little lieutenant merely stroked his mustache, and his face was expressionless.

"If explanations are due," said Alvarez, "I shall make them to Don Bernardo."

"Very good! very good!" murmured the lieutenant. "I am quite sure that Don Bernardo will be greatly pleased."

Alvarez turned angrily, gave some orders to his men, and then stalked away followed by Wyatt and two others. The renegade had never spoken a word, but he and the five had exchanged some threatening glances.

Alvarez and Bernal had spoken in Spanish, but Henry and the others surmised the import of their words. They knew, too, by the manner of Alvarez that the little triumph had been with Bernal.

"He wanted the boat, did he not?" said Henry.

"Yes," replied the lieutenant, "but you can sleep in it to-night. I warn you, however, to see Bernardo Galvez in the morning as soon as you can. After all, you are Americans and foreigners, while Alvarez is a Spaniard and one of us. You will have much to overcome."

They perceived the truth of his suggestion and thanked him. He gave them a friendly good night and went away. The five went on board "The Galleon" and prepared for sleep, having dismissed their watchman with ample pay.

As the boat was securely tied there was no need to keep a watch and all prepared for the night. But they did not go to sleep yet, although they did not talk, every one being occupied with his own thoughts.

Paul sat at the stern of the boat leaning against the side, and his eyes were on New Orleans, where he saw the formless shapes of buildings and twinkling lights here and there. The city, in a way, attracted him and, in another way, it repelled him. It interested him, but he had no desire to live there. It was a port, a gate, as it were, opening into the vast old world, to which belonged the centuries, and of which he had read and thought so much, but the single taste of it turned Paul's heart with a stronger affection than ever toward the New World to which he belonged. The great forests of the north seemed clean and fresh to him as they had seemed to Jim. There, at least, a man could know who were his friends and who were his enemies.

He saw boats passing on the turbid, brown current of the Mississippi and he heard snatches of strange, foreign songs. The night had fully come and heavy darkness hung over land and water, but New Orleans did not sleep. The smugglers, the adventurers, the former galley slaves, the riff-raff of Europe, and the mixed bloods of the West Indies were abroad in pursuit of either business or pleasure, each equally favored by the dusk.

Shif'less Sol and Long Jim were already asleep, but Paul was restless and slumber would not come. Henry, too, was wakeful, and Paul at last suggested that they walk in the city. Henry accepted, and with a word to Tom Ross they sprang ashore.

New Orleans was even more interesting to them by night than by day, as it had now a peculiarly uncanny look added to its other qualities. The night was close, heavy, and warm, and the brown current of the river showed but dismally through it. Lights were still moving on the Mississippi, but the boats that bore them were invisible. From the side of the river pleasant odors came to their nostrils, the clean, sweet scents of vast, undefiled woods and prairies, the flavor of a wind blowing over wild flowers, but from the side of the city the smells were as variegated and repellent as ever.

Nevertheless the two youths turned into the city, lit faintly by the flaring oil lanterns, and walked along through one street and another seeing what they could see. The night life was active and much of it was sodden. Oaths played a great part in the talk they heard and intoxication was a prevalent note. Sounds of strife, either without or within, arose now and then, but Henry and Paul, wishing to keep clear of all trouble, never stayed to see the result. They more than suspected that knives shone too often in these orgies.

They stopped a few moments by the old church in front of the Place d'Armes. The church was flanked on one side by a low brick building, very white with roof of red and yellow tiles, while to the left of the church stood a villa-like house half hidden among the trees. They admired the effect of the moonlight on the tiles, and then, passing through the wooden fence that enclosed it, they entered the deserted Place d'Armes.

"I can breathe better here," said Henry. "I know that I shall never be fond of towns."

But the imaginative Paul shuddered.

"Look," he said, "the gallows!"

He pointed to the huge gallows that stood in the Place d'Armes, ready for frequent use. The moonlight had now grown dim. In its wavering beams the gallows rose to immense proportions and seemed also to take on the semblance of life. It reached out its long wooden arm as if to grasp Paul and with another shudder he turned his back to it.

The two continued down one side of the Place d'Armes in the shade of magnolias and cypresses that drooped over the wooden fence. As they passed they heard the sound of a shot.

"Somebody in the city fighting with a rifle or pistol instead of a knife," said Paul.

But Henry stood motionless and silent for a moment or two. He had distinctly felt the rush of air on his face as a bullet passed by. He was seeking to see whence the shot had come and he thought he caught a glimpse of a figure among the cypresses.

"No, Paul," he exclaimed, "that shot was aimed at me!"

He sprang over the wooden fence and was followed by Paul. They searched diligently among the trees but found nothing. Then they looked at each other, and each read the same opinion in the other's eyes.

"It was either Braxton Wyatt or somebody else in the service of Alvarez," said Henry.

"Yes," said Paul, nodding assent, "and I think that 'The Galleon' is a much safer place for us at night than the City of New Orleans."

"That is true," said Henry, "and it is not worth while for us to make a complaint about being shot at. We cannot prove anything, and New Orleans is too turbulent a place to pay attention to a stray rifle or pistol shot at night."

They were back at the boat in a few minutes. Shif'less Sol and Long Jim still slept soundly, but Tom Ross was awake. They told him briefly what had occurred, and Tom shook his head sagely.

"Better stay on the boat ez long ez we kin keep it," he said. "Ez fur me, I'd rather be shot at by Injuns in the woods uv Kentucky than be hevin' white men drawin' beads on me here in a town. It looks more nateral. Uv course it wuz Braxton Wyatt or some other tool uv that wicked Spaniard, Alvarez."

Early the next morning the five, after hiring the same watchman to care again for their boat, went to the house of the Governor General, the large, low building at the corner of Toulouse Street and Rue de la Levee. Early as they were they were not the first to arrive.

A tall man, neatly dressed in a fine brown suit with fine, snow-white, puffed linen, silver-buckled shoes, and hair, tied in a powdered queue, stood on the veranda. He had a frank, open face, and the rive knew at once that he was an American. Had not his appearance proclaimed his nationality, his speech would have done it for him.

"Good morning," he exclaimed, cheerily, "you are the gentlemen from Kentucky who arrived yesterday? Yes, you must be! All New Orleans has heard of the feat of strength and dexterity, performed by one of you last night in Monsieur Gilibert's Inn of Henri Quatre! And he who did it could be none other than you, my friend!"

He looked fixedly and admiringly at Henry, and the youth blushed under his tan.

"It was merely done to stop an annoyance," he said. "I did not mean to make any display."

The prepossessing stranger laughed.

"Doubtless," he said, "but you have received a great advertisement, nevertheless. Some rumor concerning the cause of your visit has also spread in New Orleans, and for this reason I am here to meet you at the door of the Governor General."

The five looked at him inquiringly. He smiled, and they liked him better than ever.

"I don't mean to make a mystery of anything," he said. "My name is Pollock, Oliver Pollock."

"Ah," exclaimed Paul, his face alight, "you are the head of the company of Philadelphia, New York and Boston merchants that is sending arms from New Orleans up the Mississippi and Ohio to Pittsburg, where they are landed and taken across the country for the use of our hard-pressed brethren in the east!"

The shrewd merchant's eyes twinkled.

"I see, my young friend," he said to Paul, "that you are alert, even if you have just come out of the wilderness. Yes, I am that man, and I am proud to be the head of such a company. I tell you, too, that you have come at the right time. The English, as you know, are forbidden for the present to trade at New Orleans, while we are unrestricted. But England is powerful, far more powerful than Spain, and she is pushing hard for the privilege. If she gets it we shall he hit in a vital spot. Moreover, an exceedingly strong faction here, one with great influence, is striving continually to help England and to crush us."

"Alvarez!" exclaimed Henry and Paul together.

"Yes, Alvarez! We must not underrate his strength and cunning, but if he is engaged in plotting, in actual treason, or what is very near it, your coming may help us to prove it and thus strengthen the hand of Bernardo Galvez, who is our friend."

"There is no doubt of the fact!" said Henry earnestly. "He is planning to make himself Governor General in place of Galvez!"

"Ah, but to prove it! to prove it! You are strangers and foreigners, and Alvarez is before you here. No, don't blame yourselves, you could not help it. But he is the commander of the Spanish forces in Northern Louisiana. He came, summoned urgently on the King's business, and he gained access to Bernardo Galvez last night. Oh, he's a shrewd man, and a cunning one, and we know not what plausible tale he may have poured out to the Governor General. But come, the sentinel here wishes to know our business and I shall go in with you, if I may."

"Of course," said Henry. "We thank you for your aid."

They saw in a moment how valuable this help could be as Mr. Pollock spoke rapidly in Spanish to one of the sentinels, who seemed impressed, and who quickly disappeared within the house. They spent some anxious minutes in waiting, but the sentinel returned in a few minutes with word that they would be received.

"That is good," said Mr. Pollock to the five. "It is well to strike before the blow of Alvarez sinks in too deeply."

They entered an ante-chamber furnished with a splendor that the Kentuckians had never seen before. There were pictures and the arms of Spain upon the walls, and rich heavy rugs upon the floor. The sentinel said something in Spanish to Mr. Pollock and the merchant laughed.

"He makes the polite request," said Mr. Pollock, "that you leave your rifles here. Ah, you see that the fame of the Kentucky rifle has already reached New Orleans. They will be perfectly safe, I assure you."

The five leaned their rifles in a row against the wall, long, slender-barreled weapons, which were destined to make one day an unparalleled record before this very city of New Orleans.

A wide door was thrown open and an attendant dressed in gorgeous Spanish livery announced their names as they entered a large room furnished with as great a degree of state as could be reproduced at that time in New Orleans. An armed soldier stood on either side of the door, and, at the far end of the room, sitting in a great chair on a slightly raised platform, was a handsome, youngish man in the uniform of a Spanish colonel. He had a strong, open countenance, and the five knew that it was Bernardo Galvez, the Governor General of Louisiana. The favorable impression of him that they had received from reports was confirmed by his appearance.

Bernardo Galvez rose with punctilious courtesy and saluted Oliver Pollock, who introduced in turn the five, to every one of whom the Governor General gave a bow and a friendly word. Like all others in New Orleans who had seen them, he bestowed an admiring look upon their size, their straightness, and above all, the extraordinary air of independence and resolution that characterized every one of them, indicated, not by the words they said or the things they did, but by an atmosphere they created, something that cannot be described. They had never been in such a room before, one containing so much of the splendor of old Europe, but they were not awed in the least by it, and Bernardo Galvez knew it.

Oliver Pollock, the shrewd merchant and patriot, man of affairs, and judge of his kind, observed them closely and, observing, he felt a great thrill of satisfaction. The five, boys though two of them were, had felt the vast importance of their mission and, now that they had come, he too, felt it. It was a most critical and delicate moment for the struggling young nation. He knew much of Francisco Alvarez, and he surmised more.

"I have heard of you," said the Governor General to the five, and his tones became judicial and severe, as became the ruler of a million square miles of fertile territory belonging to His Most Catholic Majesty, the King of Spain. "You are the subject of formal complaint made by the captain of our forces in the North, Don Francisco Alvarez."

It was now Paul, the scholar, youth of imagination, and future statesman, who responded and it seemed fitting to all that he should do so.

"Will Your Excellency state the complaint against us?" he asked in a grave and manly way.

"I will leave it to Don Francisco to state it," replied Bernardo Galvez. "I expected that you would be here this morning, so I have chosen to confront you with him. Each side shall tell its story."

This seemed fair, and the five, who had been waved to seats by a great window with Mr. Pollock, made no protest. There they sat in silence for a few minutes, while the Governor General dictated to a secretary who sat at a little table by his side and who wrote with a goose-quill.

The wide door was at length thrown open again, and the usher announced Don Francisco and his aide, Senor Braxton Wyatt. The five were amazed and indignant at the assurance of the renegade, but they said nothing.

Alvarez walked into the room, cool, dignified, and austere, but his manner was not calculated to ruffle his superior officer. It seemed rather to indicate a confidence that the Governor General would punish as was fitting the impertinence of the intruders from Kaintock. He bestowed only a single glance upon them, as if his victory over such insignificant opponents were already assured. The blood slowly rose to the faces of Paul and Henry, but they were about to witness an extraordinary exhibition of Spanish pliancy and dexterity.

Braxton Wyatt was as thoroughly the Spaniard as clothes could make him, which was not thorough at all, and he imitated his leader even to the supercilious glance at the Kentuckians and the following look of assured victory. The five took no notice of him.

Alvarez gave to the Governor General a military salute, which Galvez returned in like fashion. Then the captain sat down in a chair near the Governor General, and the latter said, maintaining his judicial tone:

"Those against whom you made the complaint last night are here, Don Francisco. Will you state again the charges? It is but fair that they should hear and make reply, if they can."