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CHAPTER XVI
IN PRISON

Their fortress prison was built of brick, but it was not a particularly somber place. They were all put in one large room which had two windows barred with iron; but plenty of air came in at the windows, and the place, though bare, was clean.

"Well," said Lieutenant Bernal, when they were inside, "tell me all that occurred before Bernardo Galvez."

Paul was again the spokesman telling everything that was said as literally as he could.

"I have an impression," said Lieutenant Bernal, "although my impressions are usually wrong and my memory is always weak, that you have scored, at least partially. You have sowed the fertile crop of suspicion in the mind of Bernardo Galvez. He has shown that by making Francisco Alvarez virtually a prisoner, also, and you have a powerful advocate in the Señor Pollock, the great merchant, and I may add the great diplomat, also."

"How long do you think we will be kept in here?" asked Shif'less Sol, looking around at the room, which, though wide, was by no means so wide as the forests of Kentucky.

"I do not know," replied the lieutenant, smiling—he understood the look of the shiftless one, "but you shall not be ill-treated, and do not feel that any disgrace lies upon you. This is a military prison. Good men have been confined here; I myself, for instance, because of some little breach of military discipline magnified by my officers into a fault. Oh, you shall not suffer!"

He bustled about cheerily. He had food and drink brought to them, and then he departed, volunteering to see that their private property on "The Galleon" was saved and brought to them.

No one spoke for a little while after his going, and then the silence was broken by a long, dismal sigh. It was drawn up from the depths of Long Jim's chest.

"Are you sick, Jim?" asked Henry.

"Yes, Henry," replied Jim in a melancholy tone, "I'm sick; sick uv all this jawin', sick uv seein' things pulled here, an' then pulled yonder, sick uv hearin' people lyin', knowin' that they're lyin', and knowin' that other people know that they're lyin'."

"Why, Jim," said Paul, who had a twinkle in his eye, "that's diplomacy, and the man who practises it is called a diplomatist or diplomat. It's considered a great accomplishment."

"It ain't so considered by me, an' I'm bein' heard from," said Long Jim with great emphasis. "Them dy-plo-may-tists or dy-plo-maws may reckon theirselves pow'ful big boys, but I've got another an' better name fur 'em, and it's spelled with jest four letters, uv which the furst is l an' the last is r, an' them that comes in between are i an' a, with the i first. Why, Paul, it makes me plum' sick, all these goin's on. In a big town like this, full uv Spaniards an' Frenchmen an' Injuns an' niggers an' mixed breeds, an' the Lord knows what, you can never tell nuth'in' 'bout nobody, 'cept that he says what he don't believe, an' that he ain't what he is.

"I guess I'm in love more with the big woods than ever. Thar things is what they is. A buffaler don't pretend to be a b'ar. He'd be ashamed to be caught tryin' to play sech a trick, an' a b'ar has the same respect fur hisself; he'd never dream uv sayin' in his b'ar language, 'Look at me, admire me, see what a fine big buffaler I am!' An' I've a lot uv respeck fur the Injun, too. He's an Injun an' he don't say he ain't. He don't come sneakin' along claimin' that he's an old friend uv the family, he jest up an' lets drive his tomahawk at your head, ef he gits the chance, an' makes no bones 'bout it. I'd a heap ruther be killed by a good honest Injun who wuz pantin' fur my blood an' didn't pretend that he wuzn't pantin', than be done to death down here, in some cur'us, unbeknown, hole-in-the-dark way, by a furrin' man who couldn't speak a real word of the decent English language, but who wuz tryin' to let on all the time that he hated to do it."

Long Jim stopped, breathing hard with his long speech and anger. Shif'less Sol rose, walked across the room, and solemnly held out his hand to his comrade.

"Jim," he said, "you don't often talk sense, but you're talkin' a heap o' it now. Shake."

Long Jim shook and added with a grin:

"When me an' you agree, Sol, 'bout anythin', it's shorely right."

Then they fell silent for a while, each thinking in his own way of what had occurred. Henry Ware walked to one of the windows and looked out for a long while. He relished little the idea of being a prisoner for the second time, even if the second imprisonment were a sort of courtesy affair. He saw from the windows the roofs of houses amid green foliage and he knew that only a few hundred yards beyond lay the great forest, which, now in the freshest and tenderest tints of spring, rolled away unbroken, save for the few scratches that the French or Spanish had made, for thousands of miles, and for all he knew to the Arctic Circle itself.

The words of Long Jim stirred the youth deeply. He did not like intrigue and double-dealing and the ways of foreign men. Like Long Jim he longed for the great honest forest, and he, too, had his respect for the Indian who would tomahawk him without claiming to be a friend. He was glad, very glad, that he had come upon so great an errand, but he would like to cleave through the whole web of intrigue with one sturdy blow and then be off into the forest which was calling to him with such a dearly loved voice.

Paul saw Henry's face and he understood its expression. He knew that it was harder for his comrade than for himself to endure the confinement within four walls, but he said nothing. Words would be wasted.

Later in the day their door was opened, and Mr. Pollock came in bringing with him a cheery breeze.

"I've come to tell you what news there may be," he said, "and also to ask questions. Now, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. That's right. The cunning and ambitious Don Francisco Alvarez is in a rage. He is also somewhat frightened. He knows that Bernardo Galvez will be busy the next few days trying to secure the proof of the charges that you make against him. In my opinion, Galvez believes that they are true, but, as you will agree, he cannot act without proof."

"But that is exactly what we lack at this time," said Henry, "and how can we get it while we are locked up here?"

"Just so! Just so! That is a point to which I am coming. Now, about this renegade, this Braxton Wyatt. You say he is the man who drew the maps and who has been the intermediary in this whole nefarious scheme. Maps could be drawn, of course, for a purpose not wicked, but if they could be produced, and above all if Alvarez had made any notes upon them in his own handwriting, they would go far to help. If not proof, they would at least be a strong indication. Now, where do you think these maps are kept?"

"On the person of Braxton Wyatt," replied Henry promptly.

The merchant smiled with pleasure.

"Of course! Of course!" he said. "They belong to Wyatt and naturally he would keep them. Naturally, also, Alvarez would want him to keep them. He would take care that such things were not found on his own person. We must get possession of those maps. But we must go further. This renegade has lived among both the Shawnees and Miamis and is high in their confidence, is it not so?"

"Yes, both the great head-chiefs, Yellow Panther and Red Eagle, trust him."

"And to carry out this nefarious alliance some promise must have passed between Alvarez and the two head chiefs. That promise had to take a concrete form to be binding."

"War belts," suggested Henry.

"But a white man does not send war belts. He has another kind of token, and he makes that token with paper, ink, and a goose quill. Yes, Alvarez is cunning, I know, but the most cunning of all men when he enters a great conspiracy must leave a loose end hanging about somewhere. Or, to change my simile, there is no armor of deception so complete that there is not a crack in it. We must find that loose end, we must find that crack, and when we do, we can see victory just ahead of us."

"Do you mean," said Henry, "that Alvarez has probably sent a letter to the Northern chiefs, promising that as Governor General of Louisiana he will help them with soldiers and cannon against us in Kentucky?"

"I think it likely, quite likely," returned Oliver Pollock, nodding his head to give emphasis to his words. "He had to give them something that would bind. A conspirator must take a risk and in this case it seemed small. The villages of those chiefs are beyond the Ohio, fifteen hundred miles at least from here. The chance that such a letter would reappear in New Orleans was most remote, and Alvarez, might have expected to provide against that, too, by being Governor General within a few months. I feel confident that there is such a letter and we must find it."

"It's a pretty problem," said Paul.

"I admit it," said Oliver Pollock, "but a new continent teaches one to achieve the impossible. That is what are we to do; how, I do not yet know, but we must do it."

"It's important," said Henry, "that it be done soon."

"It certainly is," said Mr. Pollock with great emphasis, "because I wish to start North soon with a great fleet of canoes and other boats loaded with rifles, powder, lead, blankets, medicines, and other absolutely necessary things for our suffering brethren in the east. They are hard pressed there, and it takes a long time to pull up the Mississippi and the Ohio and then carry these things across four or five hundred miles of country to our army."

"It's shorely a wonderful thing," said Shif'less Sol, "that you kin take boats up a big river hundreds an' hundreds o' miles into the heart o' a continent, then bend off into another river runnin' into it that takes you nearly over to the Atlantic. An' mebbe ef you took one o' the rivers that runs in it on the other side you might follow it up 'till you got purty near to the western ocean. It says to me plain ez print that we must hev this here Mississippi all the way to its mouth. We can't stay bottled up."

"Sh-sh," said Mr. Pollock, warningly. "Leave that to the future. It will adjust itself, and I think it will adjust itself in the way that we wish, but we cannot talk of it now, while Bernardo Galvez is our good friend and Spain inclines to our side. Of course Louisiana may be passed back to France, but France is a better and more powerful friend than Spain can be."

"Do you think you can get hold of Braxton Wyatt?" asked Henry of Mr. Pollock.

"I shall try," replied the merchant. "Our association has agents here, and in such times as these and in such a great emergency much may be excused. If we can get hands upon him at a convenient moment and place we'll see whether he has those maps about him."

"He'll surely have them," said Henry. "But he'll stick close to Alvarez."

"Yes, there lies the trouble," said Mr. Pollock, "but we'll do our best."

He took his departure, and they were left again to loneliness. Several days passed thus and they chafed terribly. Food and drink they had in plenty, and even some English books were sent to them. But the narrow space and the four enclosing walls were always there. Outside the spring was deepening. All the great forest throbbed with the life of bird and beast, but they, the highest of creation, could not walk ten paces in any direction.

"Jim," said Shif'less Sol to Long Jim, "there's a spring 'bout twenty miles north o' Wareville that you an' me hev sat by many a time. Thar are hundreds a' springs through that country, yes, thousands o' 'em, but this one is the finest o' 'em all. It comes right out o' the side o' a rock hill, a stream so pure that you kin see right through it same ez ef it wuzn't thar, then it falls into a most bee-yu-ti-ful rock pool scooped out by Natur, an' ez the pool overflows, it runs away through the grass an' the woods in a stream 'bout two feet wide an' four inches deep. I think that's 'bout the nicest, coldest, an' most life-givin' water in all Kentucky. You an' me, Jim, hev gone thar many a time, hot an' tired from the hunt, an' hev felt ez ef we had landed right on the steps o' Heaven itself. An' the game, Jim! The game, big an' little, knowed 'bout that spring, too. Remember that tre-men-je-ous big elk you an' me killed 'bout two hundred yards north o' the spring. He stood most ez high ez a horse. An' remember, Jim, when we climbed up on top o' the hill out o' which the spring runs, we could see a long distance every way, north, south, east an' west, over the most bee-yu-ti-ful country, an' we could go whar we pleased. We could follow the buffaler clean to the western ocean ef we felt like it."

Long Jim had been sitting on the floor. Now he rose and advanced in a threatening manner upon Shif'less Sol.

"See here, Sol Hyde!" he exclaimed, "me an' you hev had words many a time, but they hev always ended in smoke! They hev never gone ez fur ez this! An' I want to tell you right here, Sol Hyde, that I kin stand a lot uv things but I can't stand this! 'Ef you say another word about that bee-yu-ti-ful spring, an' them bee-yu-ti-ful woods, an' that bee-yu-ti-ful game, thar'll be a heap uv trouble, an' it'll all be fur you!"

"Hit him anyway, Jim," said Tom Ross. "He's done filled me clean up with discontent, and he ought to be punished."

Shif'less Sol laughed.

"I won't do it again, Jim," he said. "It wuz 'cause I feel ez bad about it ez you do, an' I jest had to let off some meanness."

Lieutenant Diégo Bernal reappeared at last. He bestowed shrewd looks upon the five and said:

"I have an impression, though my impressions are usually false and my memory always weak, that you are pining. You wish the liberty and the open air of Kaintock. Your legs are long and you would stretch them."

"You hev shore hit it, leftenant," said Tom Ross. "Sometimes I think uv startin' off walkin' ez straight an' hard ez I kin, goin' right through the wall thar, an' then through any house that might git in the way, an' never to stop goin' 'till I got to Kentucky, whar a man may breathe free an' easy."

Lieutenant Diégo Bernal laughed and daintily stroked his little mustache.

"I understand you and you have my sympathy," he said. "We Catalans are at heart republicans, and I am interested in this new place of yours that you call Kaintock. But you will have to endure this fort a while longer. The good Señor Pollock does not make progress. He cannot produce the proof of what you charge. Yet Bernardo Galvez waits. He believes in you, and he holds Alvarez and Wyatt in the city. He is strengthened in his opinion, too, by gossip that has come down from Beaulieu, but that is not proof and he cannot act upon it. But be patient. I have an impression, although my impressions are usually false, that time is fighting for you."

He stayed with them an hour, precise and affected, but they believed him to be brave and true. A few days later Oliver Pollock himself came again.

"I have not been able to get hold of Wyatt," he said. "He stays too closely with Alvarez. I don't think that my agents are skillful enough. Hence I decided to procure a new one and fortunately I have succeeded."

"Who is that?" asked Henry.

"Yourself."

"Myself!" exclaimed Henry in astonishment.

"No one but you," replied the merchant. "I have been able, by the use of great influence, to secure from Bernardo Galvez your temporary release. It is to his interest to have this plot exposed if it really exists, and accordingly he has allowed me to borrow you. You can go forth with me if you give your word of honor that you will not leave New Orleans or its vicinity and will report again here."

"Why, of course I'll go! I'll"—exclaimed Henry joyfully, and then he stopped suddenly, looking around at his comrades. Then he added: "I don't feel right, Mr. Pollock, to go away and leave the boys in this place."

Up rose Tom Ross.

"Don't you fret about us, Henry," he said. "You're goin' on a good work an' you'll do it, too. We need to hev one uv our gang outside. Remember up at Boo-ly, when Alvarez had us, how much better we felt 'cause he didn't hev Sol. 'Twas a comfort to think that Sol wuz out thar in the woods."

It was a long speech for Tom Ross, but it expressed the sentiments of them all. Henry left with Mr. Pollock and they went to a handsome brick house in the city. This house was store, office, and residence combined, and several clerks were about. But these clerks did not have pale faces and bent backs. They were mostly strong-limbed, broad-shouldered men with tanned faces.

"They work out of doors," said Mr. Pollock briefly. "Some are to go with the fleet up the rivers, others have been as far as the West Indies accumulating supplies. It is necessary for them all to be able to write and shoot."

Henry liked their looks, but he did not have a chance to speak to any of them as Mr. Pollock quickly led the way Into a small inner office, where he motioned Henry to a chair and took one himself. Henry was now within narrower walls than those that confined him in the prison, but he felt a huge sense of relief. He was free. If he wanted to open the door and walk out he could do so. He expanded his great chest and took a mighty breath. Mr. Pollock heard the suspiration, looked up, and laughed. He understood perfectly.

"I'd feel that way, too, if I had been in your place," he said. "Now what we want to do is to devise some plan of trapping your friend and enemy. Mr. Wyatt. What do you think?"

"Once," replied Henry, "when, he was carrying war belts between the Shawnees and Miamis we simply seized him and took them away from him. We must do something of this kind. Where is he staying?"

"Alvarez, has a house near the river. He is there. I know that the two are plotting all the while, but I cannot get the proof."

"Do Wyatt and Alvarez know that I'm out?"

"No, neither of them."

"That's good. I think I can surprise Braxton Wyatt. If I can get my hands on him I'm sure that we'll find those maps. What kind of a house has Alvarez?"

"You can see it from that window. A pretty place, standing among the trees."

Henry looked, and the longer he looked the more pleased he felt. The trees were thick around the house of Alvarez and the fact gave him an idea.

"I think I know how to do it," he said.

Oliver Pollock leaned forward, his shrewd face eager, and for a few minutes the two talked low and earnestly.

CHAPTER XVII
THE FLAW IN THE ARMOR

Don Francisco Alvarez was in a fairly happy frame of mind. It is true that he could have been happier, but a revulsion from a great state of suspense had come to him. When he had been so boldly accused in the presence of the Governor General, cold fear had struck at his heart, despite his courage and cunning. He knew that the seeds of suspicion had been sowed deep in the heart of Bernardo Galvez and that the plant would grow fast in the warm, moist air of intrigue that overhung New Orleans.

But days had passed and nothing had happened. Moreover, the five whom he feared so much were hard and fast in the military prison within the walls, and no proof of their charges had been brought forth. Time, too, worked steadily for him. It not only weakened the accusation against him, but it also gave his powerful friends at the court of Madrid time to help him and his ambition. That little strain of royal blood in his veins was well worth having. He would certainly succeed to Bernardo Galvez, whether the wait he long or short.

He kept Braxton Wyatt with him all the time. He had learned to appreciate the value of the renegade's unscrupulous cunning, and he was necessary, too, in order to carry out the great alliance with the tribes which Alvarez meant should become an accomplished fact.

It was a pleasant house that Alvarez had within the walls, one story of brick covered with red tiles, surrounded by piazzas, and standing in grounds thick with magnolias, cypresses, and orange trees. In truth, the foliage was so dense that by daylight the house was almost entirely hidden from the city, and by night it was quite invisible unless lights chanced to twinkle through the leaves.

The Spaniard and Braxton Wyatt were sitting now upon the piazza drinking a cool decoction of West Indian origin, and Alvarez was commenting upon what he called his good fortune.

"All things favor us, Wyatt," he said. "No proof reaches the ears of Bernardo Galvez and the galleon, Doña Isabel, will certainly arrive next week from Spain. If I mistake not, she will bring news welcome to me and unwelcome to Bernardo Galvez."

"If you become Governor General what will you do with the Kentuckians in the fort?" asked Wyatt.

Alvarez laughed, and it was a very unpleasant laugh to hear.

"I do not know what I shall do with them," he said, "but I am sure of one fact. They will never see Kaintock again. The powers of a Governor General are very great."

Braxton Wyatt was satisfied with the answer. His wicked heart throbbed at the thought that the five would never more roam their beloved forests. He, too, looked forward to the arrival of the galleon, Doña Isabel, with welcome news. He saw how useful he was to Alvarez, and if the Spaniard rose, he must rise with him.

The two, after these few words, sat in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts, which, however, were largely the same. Alvarez rose presently and went into the house. If all things went as he wished, there were certain letters that he would send to powerful friends in Spain, and now was a good time to make rough drafts of them.

Braxton Wyatt remained on the piazza. It was wonderfully cool and pleasant there, after the heat of the day. The wind blew musically among the orange trees, and the air was spiced with pleasant odors. Braxton Wyatt's thoughts were pleasant, too. He liked this luxurious southern life. Though born to the forest, and a good woodsman, he had sybaritic tastes, which needed only opportunity to bud and bloom.

Now, like the Arab who had the glass for sale, he was building his great future. Alvarez would be Governor General of Louisiana, and he, Braxton Wyatt, would be his trusted and necessary lieutenant. The five whom he hated would be removed under the new rule from the military prison to dungeons, where they would gradually be lost to the sight of man, never to be heard of again. The Indians and the Spaniards with their cannon would destroy the settlements in Kentucky, and he would become, if not the first, at least the second man in His Most Catholic Majesty's huge province of Louisiana. And it was not absolutely necessary to be Spanish-born to become in time a Governor General himself.

Time passed. It was very quiet within the belt of magnolias and cypresses and orange trees and but little noise came from the town, the stray shout of a reveler, a snatch of a song, and then nothing more.

Braxton Wyatt, still filled with his dreams, arose and stepped down from the piazza. The happy future promoted in him a certain physical activity, and he wanted to walk among the trees. He stepped into their shadow, strolled a rod or so, and then stopped. His acute, forest-bred ear had brought to him a sound which was not that of the wind nor any echo of a gay reveler's song.

The renegade stopped. It was very dark among the trees. He could see neither the house behind, nor the city before him. He did not hear the sound again, but he was troubled. His pleasant thoughts were disturbed. It was like waking from a happy dream. He turned to go back to the house and then he saw a flitting shadow. The wicked heart of Braxton Wyatt stood still. If he had not known that Henry Ware was safely in the military prison he would have taken the terrible shadow for him. He knew too well the great height, the broad shoulders, and the fierce accusing countenance. Once he had laughed at the Shawnees and Miamis because they had believed in ghosts. But could it be true?

Braxton Wyatt turned back toward the house, where he might renew his interrupted and pleasant dream, but the next instant the terrible shadow turned itself into a reality more terrible.

A powerful form hurled itself upon him, and he was thrown to the ground. He looked up and met the eyes of Henry Ware, who knelt upon him. No, it was certainly not a shadow but the most unpleasant of all facts!

Braxton Wyatt was at first paralyzed by terror and the suddenness of the attack. When he recovered, one hand of Henry pressed heavily upon his mouth, while the other felt rapidly through his clothing. "Look for any unusual thickness in his waistcoat; that is probably the place," Oliver Pollock had said. Henry's hand in a few moments ran upon something folded between the cloth and lining of the waistcoat. He snatched out his knife, cut them apart and out fell several folds of fine, thin deerskin. He knew that the prize had been secured, and he meant to keep it.

Henry thrust the folds of deerskin in his pocket and sprang to his feet.

"Now, you scoundrel!" he exclaimed, "tell what tale you please and we will prove another!"

Then the terrible reality resolved itself back into a shadow, and was gone. Braxton Wyatt sprang to his feet, clapped his hand to his mangled waistcoat where the precious package had been, and uttered a strangled cry. Then he ran through the trees to the house of Alvarez.

A quarter of an hour later Oliver Pollock was sitting at his own window in the little office and his thoughts were not happy. He wished his fleet of supply canoes to start on the great river journey at once, but it could not depart while such storms were threatening. Alvarez was too serious a danger, and he must be removed. But the merchant realized that he had made little progress. Alvarez seemed to be secure in his plot.

There came a knock at his door, and in reply to his request to enter, a clerk said that the young man, Mr. Ware, had returned. Mr. Pollock rose to his feet as Henry came in. Henry carefully closed the door behind him, advanced, and put a small package in Mr. Pollock's hand.

"There they are!" he said, "the maps drawn up by Braxton Wyatt, and with notes on them in handwriting, which I take to be that of Francisco Alvarez."

The merchant stared at first in astonishment and delight. Then he ran to the lamp and spread out the sheets of fine, thin deerskin. He looked at them, one by one, and laughed with delight.

"Yes," he said, "the notes are in the handwriting of Francisco Alvarez! I know it—I have seen it often enough—and Bernardo Galvez will know it, too! Oh, it is a great find! a great find! It is not conclusive proof, but it will go far toward swaying belief! How did you get them?"

Henry had recovered from all signs of his struggle with the renegade, and was now sitting placidly in a chair.

"I took them," he said. "I found Braxton Wyatt in the grove around the house of Alvarez, and I seized him. I found these in the lining of his waistcoat."

"You did not kill him?"

"Oh, no. He is not hurt."

"It is well. I did not wish any unnecessary violence, but we had a right to seize these documents which mean so much to us and Bernardo Galvez. You will leave them with me."

"Of course," said Henry. "And now that this task is finished, I'll go back to prison with my comrades."

"It's unnecessary for you to join them there," said the merchant still laughing in his pleasure. "I'll have them out to join you, and that speedily, too. Go into the next room and sleep. You've earned the right to it."

The five, reduced to four, were sitting in their prison the next afternoon chafing more than ever. It seemed to every one of them that those walls, already so narrow, were still contracting. They did not even like to look out of the window. The contrast was too painful, and they did not wish to increase their sorrow.

"Jim," said Shif'less Sol in plaintive tones to Long Jim Hart, "won't you please come here, an' hold up my head?"

"Now, Sol Hyde," said Long Jim, "what do you want me to come thar an' hold up your head fur? Are you too lazy to hold it up fur yourself?"

"No, Jim, I ain't too lazy to hold it up fur myself, I'm jest too weak. Lack o' exercise an' fresh air, an' elbow room hev done fur poor Sol Hyde at last. I'm pinin' away. Tell Henry when he comes back, ef he ever does, that I fell into a decline. I done my best to b'ar up, but my best wuzn't good enough."

"Now you shut up, Sol Hyde," said Jim Hart, "or you'll hev me down real sick with your foolish talk, ez I jest can't stand it."

They stopped because at that moment there came unto them Lieutenant Diégo Bernal, fresh, chipper, with a few additional flounces and ruffles added to his jaunty uniform, and a smile upon his dark, pleasant face.

"Ah, my gallant four, who were once my gallant five," he said as he stroked his little mustache, "I have news for you, important news. You are even to be summoned again to the presence of His Excellency, Bernardo Galvez, the Governor General of Louisiana, and that summons is immediate. I have an impression, though my impressions are usually false and my memory always weak, that the large youth, the strong youth, the splendid youth, surnamed the Ware, who was released for the time at the intercession of Señor Pollock, has been achieving something. This, I think, is the reason of the sudden call to the audience with His Excellency."

Paul was all life at once. He sprang up, his eyes sparkling and the flush of anticipation coming into his face.

"Henry has succeeded!" he cried. "He has done something big! I knew he would! He has defeated Alvarez and that wretch Wyatt!"

The Catalan regarded Paul with admiration. He liked this enthusiasm, this infinite trust in a comrade. The five and their faith in one another continued to make the strongest of appeals to him.

"I think it is even so," he said. "The young giant surnamed the Ware, must have done a great deed, because Don Francisco Alvarez, is summoned, at the same time, to the presence of His Excellency, the Governor General, Bernardo Galvez, and I hear that he is in no pleasant frame of mind because of it. Come!"

The four went forth joyfully. Shif'less Sol was the first to put foot on Mother Earth, and he stopped, raised his head, and opened his mouth to its widest extent.