Chapter II. A Forest Envoy

by Joseph A. Altsheler

　　A group of men were seated in a pleasant valley, where the goldenbeams of the sun sifted in myriads through the green leaves.

　　They were about fifty in number and all were white. Most of themwere dressed in Old World fashion, doublets, knee breeches, hose,and cocked hats. Nearly all were dark; olive faces, black hair,and black pointed beards, but now and then one had fair hair, andeyes of a cold, pale blue. Manner, speech, looks, and dress,alike differentiated them from the borderers. They were not thekind of men whom one would expect to find in these lonely woodsin the heart of North America.

　　The leader of the company - and obviously he was such - was oneof the few who belonged to the blonde type. His eyes were of thechilly, metallic blue, and his hair, long and fair, curled at theends. His dress, of some fine, black cloth, was scrupulouslyneat and clean, and a silver-hilted small sword swung at hisbelt. He was not more than thirty.

　　The fair man was leaning lazily but gracefully against the trunkof a tree, and he talked in a manner that seemed indolent andcareless, but which was neither to a youth in buckskins who satopposite him, a striking contrast in appearance. This youth wasundeniably of the Anglo-Saxon type, large and wellbuilt, with abroad, full forehead, but with eyes set too close together. Hewas tanned almost to the darkness of an Indian.

　　"You tell me, Senior Wyatt," said Don Francisco Alvarez, theleader of the Spanish band, that the new settlers in Kaintock*have twice driven off the allied tribes, and that, if they areleft alone another year or two, they will go down so deep in thesoil that they can never be uprooted. Is it not so?"

　　[*An early French and Spanish name for Kentucky.]

　　"It is so," replied Braxton Wyatt, the renegade. The tribeshave failed twice in a great effort. Every man among thesesettlers is, a daring and skillful fighter, and many of the boys-and many of the women, too. But if white troops and cannon aresent against them their forts must fall."

　　The Spaniard was idly whipping the grass stems with a littleswitch. Now he narrowed his metallic, blue eyes, and gazeddirectly into those of Braxton Wyatt.

　　"And you, Senior Wyatt?" he said, speaking his slow, preciseEnglish. "Nothing premeditated is done without a motive. Youare of these people who live in Kaintock, their blood is yourblood; why then do you wish to have them destroyed?"

　　A deep flush broke its way through the brown tan on the face ofBraxton Wyatt, and his eyes fell before the cold gaze of theSpaniard. But he raised them again in a moment. Braxton Wyattwas not a coward, and he never permitted a guilty conscience tobother him.

　　"I did belong to them," he replied, "but my tastes led me away.I have felt that all this mighty valley should belong to theIndians who have inhabited it so long, but, if the white peoplecome, it should be those who are true and loyal to their kings,not these rebels of the colonies."

　　Francisco Alvarez smiled cynically, and once more surveyedBraxton Wyatt, with a rapid, measuring glance.

　　"You speak my sentiments, Senior Wyatt," he said, "and you speakthem in a language that I scarcely expected."

　　"I had a schoolmaster even in the wilderness," said BraxtonWyatt. "And I may tell you, too, as proof of my faith that Iwould be hanged at once should I return to the settlements."

　　"I do not doubt your faith. I was merely curious about yourmotives. I am sure also that you can be of great help to us."He spoke in a patronizing manner, and Braxton Wyatt movedslightly in anger, but restrained his speech.

　　"I may say," continued the Spaniard, "that His ExcellencyBernardo Galvez, His Most Catholic Majesty's Governor of hisloyal province of Louisiana, has been stirred by the word thatcomes to him of these new settlements of the rebel Americans inthe land of the Ohio: The province of Louisiana is vast, and itmay be that it includes the country on either side of the Ohio.The French, our predecessors, claimed it, and now that all thecolonists east of the mountains are busy fighting their king, itmay be easy to take it from them, as one would snip off a skirtwith a pair of scissors. That is why I and this faithful bandare so far north in these woods."

　　Braxton Wyatt nodded.

　　"And a wise thing, too," he said. "I am strong with thetribes. The great chief, Yellow Panther, of the Miamis and thegreat chief, Red Eagle, of the Shawnees are both my friends. Iknow how they feel. The Spanish in New Orleans are far away.Their settlements do not spread. They come rather to hunt andtrade. But the Americans push farther and farther. They buildtheir homes and they never go back. Do you wonder then that thewarriors wish your help?"

　　Francisco Alvarez smiled again. It was a cold but satisfiedsmile and he rubbed one white hand over the other.

　　"Your logic is good," he said, "and these reasons have occurredto me, also, but my master, Bernardo Galvez, the Governor, istroubled. We love not England and there is a party among us -aparty at present in power -which wishes to help the Americans inorder that we may damage England, but I, if I could choose theway would have no part in it. As surely as we help the rebels wewill also create rebels against ourselves."

　　"You are far from New Orleans," said Braxton Wyatt, "It wouldtake long for a messenger to go and come, and meanwhile you couldact as you think best."

　　"It is so," said the Spaniard. "Our presence here is unknown toall save the chiefs and yourself. In this wilderness, a thousandmiles from his superior, one must act according to his judgment,and I should like to see these rebel settlements crushed."

　　He spoke to himself rather than to Wyatt, and again his eyesnarrowed. Blue eyes are generally warm and sympathetic, but hiswere of the cold, metallic shade that can express cruelty sowell. He plucked, too, at his short, light beard, and BraxtonWyatt read his thoughts. The renegade felt a thrill ofsatisfaction. Here was a man who could be useful.

　　"How far is it from this place to the land of the Miamis and theShawnees?" asked Alvarez.

　　"It must be six or seven hundred miles, but bands of both tribesare now hunting much farther west. One Shawnee party that I knowof is even now west of the Mississippi."

　　Francisco Alvarez frowned slightly.

　　"It is a huge country," he said. " These great distances, annoyme. Still, one must travel them. Ah, what is it now?"

　　He was looking at Braxton Wyatt, as he spoke, and he saw a suddenchange appear upon his face, a look of recognition and then ofmingled hate and rage. The renegade was staring Northward, andthe eyes of Alvarez followed his.

　　The Spaniard saw a man or rather a youth approaching, a straight,slender, but tall and compact figure, and a face uncommon in thewilderness, fine, delicate, with the eyes of a dreamer, and seer,but never weak. The youth came on steadily, straight toward theSpanish camp.

　　"Paul Cotter!" exclaimed Braxton Wyatt. "How under the sun didhe come here!"

　　"Some one you know?" said Alvarez who heard the words.

　　"Yes, from the settlements of which we speak," replied Wyattquickly and in a low tone. He had no time to add more, becausePaul was now in the Spanish camp, and was gravely saluting theleader, whom he had recognized instantly to be such by his dressand manner. Francisco Alvarez rose to his feet, and politelyreturned the salute. He saw at once a quality in the strangerthat was not wholly of the wilderness. Braxton Wyatt nodded, butPaul took no notice whatever of him. A flush broke again throughthe tan of the renegade's face.

　　"Be seated," said Alvarez, and Paul sat down on a little grassyknoll.

　　"You are Captain Francisco Alvarez of the Spanish forces atNew Orleans?"

　　"You have me truly," replied the Spaniard smiling and shrugginghis shoulders, "although I cannot surmise how you became awareof my presence here. But the domains of my master, the king,extend far, and his servants must travel far, also, to do hiswill."

　　Paul understood the implication in his words, but he, too' hadthe gift of language and diplomacy, and he did not reply to it.Stirred by deep curiosity, the Spanish soldiers were gathering alittle nearer, but Alvarez waved back all but Wyatt.

　　"I am glad to find you here, Captain Alvarez," said Paul with agravity beyond his years; indeed, as he spoke, his face waslighted up by that same singular look of exaltation that hadpassed more than once over the face of the shiftless one. "AndI am glad because I have come for a reason, one of the greatestof all reasons. I want to say something, not for myself, but forothers."

　　"Ah, an ambassador, I see," said Francisco Alvarez with a lighttouch of irony.

　　But Paul took no notice of the satire. He was far too much inearnest, and he resumed in tones impressive in their solemnity:

　　"I am from one of the little white villages in the Kentuckywoods far to the eastward. There we have fought the wildernessand twice we have driven back strong forces of the allied tribes,although they came with great resolution and were helped moreoverby treachery."

　　Braxton Wyatt moved angrily and was about to speak, but Paul,never glancing in his direction, went on steadily:

　　"These settlements cannot be uprooted now. They may be damaged.They may be made to suffer great loss and grief, but the vanguardof our people will never turn back. Neither warrior nor king canwithstand it."

　　Now Paul's look was wholly that of the prophet.

　　As he said the last words, "neither warrior nor king canwithstand it," his face was transfigured. He did not seethe Spaniard before him, nor Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, northe surrounding woods, but he saw instead great states and mightycities.

　　The Spaniard, despite his displeasure, was impressed by thewords of the youth, but he took hold of himself bodily, as itwere, and shook off the spell. A challenging light sprang intohis cold blue eyes.

　　"I do not know so much about warriors," he said, "but kings maybe and are able to do what they will. If my master should chooseto, put forth his strength, even to send his far-extended arminto these woods, to what would your tiny settlements amount? Apinch of sand before a puff of wind. Whiff! You are gone. Norcould your people east of the mountains help you, because they,on bended knee, will soon be receiving their own lesson from theKing of England."

　　Francisco Alvarez snapped his fingers, as if Paul and his peoplewere annihilated by a single derisive gesture. Paul reddened anda dangerous flash came into his eyes. But the naturaldiplomatist in him took control, and he replied with the utmostcalmness:

　　"It may be so, but it is not a question that should arise. TheKing of Spain is at peace with us. We even hear, deep in thewoods as we are, that he may take our part against England.France already is helping us. So I have come to ask you to takeno share in plots against us, not to listen to evil counsels, andnot to turn ear to traitors, who, having been traitors to onepeople, can readily be traitors to another."

　　Braxton Wyatt leaped to his feet, his face blazing with wrath,and his hand flew to the hilt of the knife at his belt.

　　"Now this is more than I will stand!" he exclaimed, "you cannotignore me, Paul Cotter, until such time you choose, and then callme foul names!"

　　The Spaniard smiled. The sight of Braxton Wyatt's wrath pleasedhim, but he put out his hand in a detaining gesture.

　　"Sit down!" he said in -a tone so sharp that Wyatt obeyed. "Thisis no time for personal quarrels. As I see it, an embassyhas come to us and we must discuss matters of state. Is it notso, Senior, Senior..."

　　"Cotter! Paul Cotter is my name."

　　Paul felt the sneer in the Spaniard's last words, but he hid hisresentment.

　　"Then your proposition is this," continued Alvarez, "that I andmy men have nothing to do with the Indians, that we make notreaty, no agreement with them, that we abandon this country andgo back to New Orleans. This you propose despite the fact thatthe region in which we now are belongs to Spain."

　　"I would not put it in quite that fashion," replied Paul calmly."I suggest instead that you be our friend. It is natural forthe white races to stand together. I suggest that you send away,also, the messenger of the tribes who comes seeking your help toslaughter women and children."

　　Braxton Wyatt half rose, but again he was put down by therestraining gesture of Francisco Alvarez.

　　"No personal quarrels, as I stated before," said the Spaniard,"but to you, Senior Cotter, I wish to say that I have heard yourwords, but it seems to me they are without weight. I do notagree with you that the settlements of the Americans cannot beuprooted. Nor am I sure that your title to Kaintock is good. Itwas claimed in the beginning by France, and justly, but a greatwar gave it by might though not by right to England. Now Spainhas succeeded to France. Here, throughout all this vast region,there is none to dispute her title. To the east of theMississippi great changes are going on, and it may be thatKaintock, also, will revert to my master, the king."

　　He waved his hand in a gesture of finality, and a look ofsatisfaction came into Braxton Wyatt's eyes. The renegadeglanced triumphantly at Paul, but Paul's face remained calm.

　　"You would not proceed to any act of hostility in conjunctionwith the tribes, when Spain and the colonies are at peace?"said Paul to the Spaniard.

　　Francisco Alvarez frowned, and assumed a haughty look.

　　"I make neither promises nor prophecies," he said.

　　"I have spoken courteously to you, Senior Cotter, although youare a trespasser on the Spanish domain. I have given you thehospitality of our camp, but I cannot answer questions pertainingto the policy of my government."

　　Paul, for the first time, showed asperity. He, too, drew himselfup with a degree of haughtiness, and he looked Don FranciscoAlvarez squarely in the eyes, as he replied:

　　"I did not come here to ask questions. I came merely to saythat our nations are at peace, and to urge you not to helpsavages in a war upon white people."

　　"I do not approve of rebels," said Alvarez.

　　Paul was silent. He felt instinctively that his mission hadfailed. Something cold and cruel about the Spaniard repelledhim, and he believed, too, that Braxton Wyatt had not beenwithout a sinister influence.

　　Alvarez arose and walked over to his camp-fire. Braxton Wyattfollowed him and whispered rapidly to the Spaniard. Paul,persistent and always hopeful, was putting down his anger andtrying to think of other effective words that he might use. Butnone would come into his head, and he, too, rose.

　　"I am sorry that we cannot agree, Captain Alvarez," he said withthe grave courtesy that became him so well, "and therefore Iwill bid you, good day."

　　A thin smile passed over the face of the Spaniard, and the blueeyes shed a momentary, metallic gleam.

　　"I pray you not to be in haste, Senior Cotter." he said. "Beour guest for a while."

　　"I must go," replied Paul, "although I thank you for thecourtesy."

　　"But, we cannot part with you now," said the Spaniard, "you areon Spanish soil. Others of you kind may be near, also, and youand they have come uninvited. I would know more about it."

　　"You mean that you will detain me?" said Paul in surprise.

　　The Spaniard delicately stroked his pointed beard, "Perhaps thatis the word," he replied. "As I said, you have trespassed uponour domain, and must hold you, for a time, at least. I know notwhat plot is afoot."

　　"As a prisoner?"

　　"If you wish to call it so."

　　"And yet there is no war between your country and mine!"

　　The Spaniard delicately stroked his pointed beard again.

　　Paul looked at him accusingly, and Francisco Alvarez unable tosustain his straight gaze, turned his eyes aside. But BraxtonWyatt's face was full of triumph, although he kept silent.Paul thought rapidly. It seemed to him a traitorous design andhe did not doubt that Wyatt had instigated it, but he mustsubmit at present. He was powerless inside a ring of fiftysoldiers. Without a word, he sat down again on the little grassyknoll and it pleased Alvarez to affect a great politeness, and toplay with his prisoner as a cat with a mouse. He insisted thathe eat and he made his men bring him the tenderest of food, deermeat and wild turkey, and fish, freshly caught. Finally heopened a flask and poured wine in a small silver cup.

　　"It is the wine of Xeres, Senior Cotter," he said, "and youcan judge how precious it is, as it must be a full five thousandmiles from- its birthplace."

　　He handed the little cup in grandiose manner to Paul, and Paul,meeting his humor, accepted it in like fashion. He had nottasted wine often in his life and he found it a strong fluid,but, in this crisis, it strengthened him and put a new sparkle inhis blood.

　　"Thanks," he said as he politely returned the empty cup, andresumed his seat on the knoll. Then Alvarez walked aside, andtalked again in whispers with the renegade.

　　Wyatt urged that Paul be held indefinitely. He would not talk atfirst, but they must get from him the fullest details about thesettlements in Kentucky, the weak points, where to attack andwhen. If the settlements were left alone they would certainlyspread all over Kentucky and in time across the Mississippi intothe Spanish domain. Spain was far away, and she could not drivethem back. But the Spaniards could urge on the tribes again, andwith a hidden hand, send them arms and ammunition. White menwith cannon could even join the warriors, and Spain mightconvincingly say that she knew nothing of it.

　　The words of the renegade pleased Francisco Alvarez. Deep downin his crafty heart he loved intrigue and cunning.

　　"Yes, we'll hold him," he said. "He is a trespasser here,although I will admit that he is not the kind of person that Iexpected to find in the heart of this vast wilderness."

　　He glanced at Paul, who was sitting on the knoll, calm andapparently unconcerned, his fine features at rest, his blue eyeslazily regarding the forest. The blue of Paul's eyes wasdifferent from the blue of the eyes of Alvarez. The blue of hiswas deep, warm, and sympathetic.

　　"Is it likely that Cotter is alone?" Alvarez asked of Wyatt.

　　"Not at all," replied the renegade. "He has friends, and I warnyou that they are able and dangerous. We must be on our watchagainst them."

　　"What friends?" asked the Spaniard incredulously.

　　"There is a group. They are five. Where one of them is, theother four are not likely to be far away. There is Cotter'scomrade, Henry Ware, a little older, and larger and stronger,wonderful in the woods! He surpasses the Indians themselves incunning and craft. Then comes Sol Hyde, whom they call theshiftless one, but swift and cunning, and much to be dreaded.Look out for him when he is pretending to be most harmless. Andthen Tom Ross, who has been a hunter and guide all his life, andthe one they call Long Jim, the swiftest runner in thewilderness. Oh, I know them all!"

　　"Perhaps you have had cause to know them well," said theSpaniard in a sardonic tone - he was a keen reader of character,and he understood Braxton Wyatt.

　　But Braxton Wyatt ignored the taunt in his anxiety.

　　"They must not be taken too lightly," he said. "They aresomewhere in these woods, and, Captain, I warn you oncemore against them."

　　The Spaniard smiled in his superior way, and, turning to his men,began to give directions for the camp that night. Sunset was notfar away, and they would remain in the glade. His was too stronga force to fear attack in that isolated region, but Alvarezposted sentinels, and ordered the others to sleep, when the timecame, in a wide ring about the fire. Within the ring he andPaul and Wyatt sat, and the Spaniard, maintaining his light,ironic humor, talked much. Paul, if addressed directly byAlvarez, always answered, but he persistently ignored therenegade. Such a being filled him with horror, and once, whenWyatt gave him a look of deadly hate, Paul shot back one of hisown, fully a match for it. But that was all.

　　Night came on fast. The red sun shot down. Darkness fell uponthe forest, and swept up to the circling rim of the camp fire.Chill came into the air. The Spaniards shivered and crept alittle nearer to the coals. Talk ceased, and, out of theillimitable for st, came the low, moaning sound of the windamong the leaves. The great stars sprang out, and shone with athin, pale light on the wilderness.

　　Francisco Alvarez was a brave man, but he was born on sunnyplains where he basked in warmth and the eye ranged far. Now,despite himself, he felt a chill that was uncanny. The forest,thick and black, spread away, he knew, for hundreds of miles, andneither city nor town broke it. A fervent imagination leaped upand peopled it with weird beings. Nor would imagination go downbefore will and knowledge. Boughs twisted themselves intofantastic, hideous shapes, and the moan of the wind was certainlylike the cry of a soul in torment.

　　Don Francisco Alvarez shivered and the shiver became a shudder.He looked across the fire at his prisoner, but Paul seemedunconscious of the forest and the night, and the demon spell ofthe two. The lad sat immovable. Upon his face was the dreamy,mystic look that so often came there. He seemed to be gazing farbeyond the Spaniard and the renegade into some greater future.Francisco Alvarez, brave man though he was, felt awe. He roseimpatiently, kicked a coal deeper into the fire, looked once moreat Paul, who was yet silent, and spoke sharply to the sentinels.Then he returned to his place, and said to Paul:

　　"We offer you the hospitality of the forest and an extra blanketif you wish it."

　　"It's a hospitality to which I'm used," replied Paul, "and Idon't need the extra blanket, although I thank you for theoffer."

　　He took his own blanket from the little pack at his back, wrappedhimself in it, pillowed his head on the knoll, and closed hiseyes. Francisco Alvarez looked at him for some minutes, andcould not tell whether he was sleeping or waking, but he thoughtthat he slept. His long, regular breathing and the expression ofhis face, as peaceful as that of a little child, indicated it.The night grew chillier. The great stars remained pale and cold,and the forest continued to whine, as that strange, wanderingbreeze slipped through the leaves. Francisco Alvarez of thesunny plains wished that it would stop. It got upon his nerves,and the feeling it gave him was singularly like that of an evilconscience. He saw his men fall to sleep one by one, and heheard their heavy breathing. Braxton Wyatt also wrapped himselfin his blanket and soon slumbered. The fire sank, the coalscrumbled, and with soft little hisses, fell together. Thecircling rim of darkness crept up closer and closer, and thetrunks of the trees became ghostly in, the shadows.

　　Alvarez saw his sentinels at either side of the camp, to rightand left, walking back and forth, and he knew also that theywould watch well. Time passed. The night darkened and then awan moon came out, casting a ghostly, gray shadow over themeasureless black forest. The great stars, pale and cold, dancedin a dusky blue. Faint moans came out of the depths of thewilderness, as a stray wind wandered here and there amongthe leaves. Francisco Alvarez, resolute and self containedthough he was, could not sleep. He had taken a bold step inholding the messenger of peace, and, although one might do much athousand wilderness miles from the seat of his authority, he wasnevertheless anxious to have the full support of Bernardo Galvez,the Spanish governor of Louisiana.

　　Royalist to the marrow, he wished the colonists to be defeated bytheir mother country, and he wished, moreover, that Spain mightmake secure a title to all the immense regions in the valley.If he could skillfully commit Spain to a quarrel with thesettlers much might be done for the cause in which his heart wasenlisted.

　　He foresaw the truth of Paul's warning that in a little whilenothing could uproot the settlers in Kentucky. A blow at them,if it would destroy, must fall quickly, and he meant that theblow should be given.

　　His anxiety weighed heavily upon him and the wilderness at nightgrew more uncanny. Sleep refused to come. The coals sank lower.One by one they gleamed with the last fitful sparks of dying fireand then went out. The two sentinels, one to the right and oneto the left, had sat down now upon fallen logs, but Alvarez knewthat they were still watching with care - they would not dare todo otherwise. All the rest but Alvarez slept.

　　The Spaniard looked at Braxton Wyatt as he lay in his blanket,one arm under his head, and his lip curled. He despised him, andyet he could be very useful. He would have to work with him andhe must treat him at least with superficial politeness. Then helooked at the prisoner. Paul, too, slept soundly, his fine facethrown into relief in the wan moonlight, every sensitive featurerevealed. Alvarez wondered again that he should find a youth ofsuch classic countenance and cultivated mind in the deep forest.The wandering breeze ceased, and the wilderness fell into silenceso deep and heavy that it preyed upon the nerves of theSpaniard. Then, out of the stillness came a long, plaintivenote, wailing, but musical, full of a quality that made it seemto Alvarez weird and ominous.

　　"Only the howl of a wolf," muttered the Spaniard, who recognizedthe long-drawn cry. But it made him shiver a little,nevertheless. He alone was awake, except the sentinels, and hefelt like a tiny, lost speck in all the vast wilderness. Asecond time came the cry of the wolf, and then it was repeated athird and a fourth time. After the fourth it ceased.

　　The four cries were so distinct, so equal in length, and repeatedat such regular intervals that they seemed to Francisco Alvarezlike set notes. He listened intently, but they did not comeagain. He glanced at the prisoner but Paul had not stirred, themoon's rays illuminating his face with a pale light. Therenegade, too, slept soundly.

　　Alvarez wrapped himself in his blanket after the fashion of theothers, and lay down, but still sleep would not come. He knewthat it was far in the night and he wished to be rested and freshfor the next day, but he lay awake, nevertheless. A half hourpassed, and then came that plaintive cry of the wolf again. Asbefore, it seemed to be wonderfully distinct and full ofcharacter, but it was nearer now.

　　Francisco Alvarez raised himself on his elbow, and heard it asecond and then a third and fourth time. After that only theheavy silence of the forest.

　　"The same as before," murmured the Spaniard to himself. "Thewolf howled four times. What a coincidence! Bah, I'm becoming asuperstitious fool!"

　　He resolutely closed his eyes and sought slumber once more. Itwas far past midnight now, and weary nature began at last hertask. His nerves were soothed. A soft breeze fanned his eyelidswith drowsy wing, the forest wavered, swam away, and he slept.

　　Red dawn was coming when Francisco Alvarez awoke. The fire wasdead and cold, and the men around it yet slumbered. The twosentinels, one to the right and one to the left, still sat on thelogs, backs toward him. He took one glance to see if theprisoner, too, slept, and then he leaped to his feet with a cry.The prisoner was not there! Nor was he anywhere in the camp.

　　"Up I up! you rascals!" shouted the Spaniard. "The boy is gone!escaped. Luiz, Pedro, in what manner have you watched!"

　　He rushed to the sentinel on the right, Luiz, and struck himsharply across the back with the flat of his sword.

　　"Wretch!" he cried, "you have slept!" and he struck himagain.

　　Luiz did not stir, even under the sharp blow. He remainedsitting on the log, back to his chief, shoulders bent forward, asif he were in a slumber too profound to be disturbed by anythingshort of a crash of thunder in his ear.

　　Alvarez, furious with anger, seized him by the shoulder anddragged him back. Then he uttered another cry, in which rage andsurprise were mingled in equal portions. But Luiz, the sentinel,still said nothing. He could not. A gag was fixed firmly in hismouth, his arms were bound to his side, his legs to the tree onwhich he sat, and his rifle had been left standing between hisknees and against his shoulder, as if held by one who watched.The unfortunate sentinel gazed up at his chief with wide-open,appealing eyes, and, leaving him with the men, who were nowcrowding around he ran to the other sentinel, Pedro, only to findhim gagged and bound, exactly like his comrade. It was someminutes before either could speak, after they were cut loose andtheir gags removed, and then their tales were the same.

　　"I watched, I watched well, Captain," said Luiz, "by the HolyVirgin I swear it. I Never in this whole terrible night, not fora moment, have my eyes closed. I saw nothing, I heard nothingbut a wolf howling in the forest, and then, long after midnight,I was suddenly seized from behind by powerful hands. I could notmove, so strong were they. I was gagged and bound and I couldsee only the phantom figures of the men who did it. I know nomore."

　　Pedro, with many supplications, repeated the tale, and FranciscoAlvarez was forced to believe them, although he cursed them forcarelessness, and promised them punishment.

　　Braxton Wyatt had remained silent, although his face showeddeep disappointment. Presently, when the turmoil had died down,he said in a low voice to Alvarez:

　　"What was it that the sentinel said about hearing the howl of awolf?"

　　"I heard it myself," replied Alvarez. "It was about midnight,when a wolf to the north howled four times. An hour or so laterI heard it again, somewhat nearer and somewhat to the west, whenit howled four times as before."

　　"Ah!" said Braxton Wyatt.

　　It was a short exclamation, but it was so full of significancethat the Spaniard in surprise, asked him what he meant.

　　"Four cries," replied the renegade, "and he had four friends,of whom I told you to beware. I told you what they were, whatcunning and skill they have, but you would not believe me and youmust now! Cotter heard the four cries. He was not asleep and heunderstood!"

　　Braxton Wyatt, despite his annoyance at Paul's escape, felt amoment of triumph. His warning had come true. He had been wiserthan this Spaniard who had patronized and insulted him.

　　"We will deal with these people yet," said Francisco Alvarezangrily as he turned away.

　　"I hope so," replied Braxton Wyatt.