CHAPTER II
A FOREST ENVOY
A group of men were seated in a pleasant valley, where the golden beams ofthe sun sifted in myriads through the green leaves. They were about fiftyin number and all were white. Most of them were dressed in Old Worldfashion, doublets, knee breeches, hose, and cocked hats. Nearly all weredark; olive faces, black hair, and black pointed beards, but now and thenone had fair hair, and eyes 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 woods in theheart of North America.
The leader of the company--and obviously he was such--was one of the fewwho belonged to the blonde type. His eyes were of the chilly, metallicblue, and his hair, long and fair, curled at the ends. His dress, of somefine, black cloth, was scrupulously neat and clean, and a silver-hiltedsmall sword swung it his belt. He was not more than thirty.
The fair man was leaning lazily but gracefully against the trunk of atree, and he talked in a manner that seemed indolent and careless, butwhich was neither to a youth in buckskins who sat opposite him,a striking contrast in appearance. This youth was undeniably of theAnglo-Saxon type, large and well-built, with a broad, full forehead, butwith eyes set too close together. He was tanned almost to the darkness ofan Indian.
"You tell me, Senor Wyatt," said Don Francisco Alvarez, the leader of theSpanish band, "that the new settlers in Kaintock[A] have twice driven offthe allied tribes, and that, if they are left alone another year or two,they will go down so deep in the soil that they can never be uprooted.Is it not so?"
"It is so," replied Braxton Wyatt, the renegade. "The tribes have failedtwice in a great effort. Every man among these settlers is a daring andskillful fighter, and many of the boys--and many of the women, too. But ifwhite troops and cannon are sent against them their forts must fall."
The Spaniard was idly whipping the grass stems with a little switch. Nowhe narrowed his metallic, blue eyes, and gazed directly into those ofBraxton Wyatt.
"And you, Senor Wyatt?" he said, speaking his slow, precise English."Nothing premeditated is done without a motive. You are of these peoplewho live in Kaintock, their blood is your blood; why then do you wish tohave them destroyed?"
A deep flush broke its way through the brown tan on the face of BraxtonWyatt, and his eyes fell before the cold gaze of the Spaniard. But heraised them again in a moment. Braxton Wyatt was not a coward, and henever permitted a guilty conscience to last longer than a throb or two.
"I did belong to them," he replied, "but my tastes led me away. I havefelt that all this mighty valley should belong to the Indians who haveinhabited it so long, but, if the white people come, it should be thosewho are true and loyal to their kings, not these rebels of the colonies."
Francisco Alvarez smiled cynically, and once more surveyed Braxton Wyatt,with a rapid, measuring glance.
"You speak my sentiments, Senor Wyatt," he said, "and you speak them in alanguage that I scarcely expected."
"I had a schoolmaster even in the wilderness," said Braxton Wyatt. "And Imay tell you, too, as proof of my faith that I would be hanged at onceshould I return to the settlements."
"I do not doubt your faith. I was merely curious about your motives. I amsure also that you can be of great help to us."
He spoke in a patronizing manner, and Braxton Wyatt moved slightly inanger, but restrained his speech.
"I may say," continued the Spaniard, "that His Excellency Bernardo Galvez,His Most Catholic Majesty's Governor of his loyal province of Louisiana,has been stirred by the word that comes to him of these new settlements ofthe rebel Americans in the land of the Ohio. The province of Louisiana isvast, and it may be that it includes the country on either side of theOhio. The French, our predecessors, claimed it, and now that all thecolonists east of the mountains are busy fighting their king, it may beeasy to take it from them, as one would snip off a skirt with a pair ofscissors. That is why I and this faithful band are so far north in thesewoods."
Braxton Wyatt nodded.
"And a wise thing, too," he said. "I am strong with the tribes. The greatchief, Yellow Panther, of the Miamis and the great chief, Red Eagle, ofthe Shawnees are both my friends. I know how they feel. The Spanish in NewOrleans are far away. Their settlements do not spread. They come rather tohunt and trade. But the Americans push farther and farther. They buildtheir homes and they never go back. Do you wonder then that the warriorswish your help?"
Francisco Alvarez smiled again. It was a cold but satisfied smile and herubbed one white hand over the other.
"Your logic is good," he said, "and these reasons have occurred to me,also, but my master, Bernardo Galvez, the Governor, is troubled. We lovenot England and there is a party among us--a party at present inpower--which wishes to help the Americans in order that we may damageEngland, but I, if I could choose the way would have no part in it. Assurely as we help the rebels we will also create rebels againstourselves."
"You are far from New Orleans," said Braxton Wyatt. "It would take longfor a messenger to go and come, and meanwhile you could act as you thinkbest."
"It is so," said the Spaniard. "Our presence here is unknown to all savethe chiefs and yourself. In this wilderness, a thousand miles from hissuperior, one must act according to his judgment, and I should like to seethese rebel settlements crushed."
He spoke to himself rather than to Wyatt, and again his eyes narrowed.Blue eyes are generally warm and sympathetic, but his were of the cold,metallic shade that can express cruelty so well. He plucked, too, at hisshort, light beard, and Braxton Wyatt read his thoughts. The renegade felta thrill of satisfaction. 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 tribes are nowhunting much farther west. One Shawnee party that I know of is even nowwest of the Mississippi."
Francisco Alvarez, frowned slightly.
"It is a huge country," he said. "These great distances annoy me. Still,one must travel them. Ah, what is it now?"
He was looking at Braxton Wyatt, as he spoke, and he saw a sudden changeappear upon his face, a look of recognition and then of mingled hate andrage. The renegade was staring Northward, and the eyes of Alvarez followedhis.
The Spaniard saw a man or rather a youth approaching, a straight, slender,but tall and compact figure, and a face uncommon in the wilderness, fine,delicate, with the eyes of a dreamer, and seer, but never weak. The youthcame on steadily, straight coward the Spanish camp.
"Paul Cotter!" exclaimed Braxton Wyatt. "How under the sun did he comehere!"
"Some one you know?" said Alvarez who heard the words.
"Yes, from the settlements of which we speak," replied Wyatt quickly andin a low tone. He had no time to add more, because Paul was now in theSpanish camp, and was gravely saluting the leader, whom he had recognizedinstantly to be such by his dress and manner. Francisco Alvarez rose tohis feet, and politely returned the salute. He saw at once a quality inthe stranger that was not wholly of the wilderness. Braxton Wyatt nodded,but Paul took no notice whatever of him. A flush broke again through thetan of the renegade's face.
"Be seated," said Alvarez, and Paul sat down on a little grassy knoll.
"You are Captain Francisco Alvarez of the Spanish forces at New Orleans?"
"You have me truly," replied the Spaniard smiling and shrugging hisshoulders, "although I cannot surmise how you became aware of my presencehere. But the domains of my master, the king, extend far, and his servantsmust travel far, also, to do his will."
Paul understood the implication in his words, but he, too, had the gift oflanguage and diplomacy, and he did not reply to it. Stirred by deepcuriosity, the Spanish soldiers were gathering a little nearer, butAlvarez waved back all but Wyatt.
"I am glad to find you here, Captain Alvarez," said Paul with a gravitybeyond his years; indeed, as he
spoke, his face was lighted up by thatsame singular look of exaltation that had passed more than once over theface of the shiftless one. "And I am glad because I have come for areason, one of the greatest of all reasons. I want to say something, notfor myself, but for others."
"Ah, an ambassador, I see," said Francisco Alvarez with a light touch ofirony.
But Paul took no notice of the satire. He was far too much in earnest, andhe resumed in tones impressive in their solemnity:
"I am from one of the little white villages in the Kentucky woods far tothe eastward. There we have fought the wilderness and twice we have drivenback strong forces of the allied tribes, although they came with greatresolution and were helped moreover by treachery."
Braxton Wyatt moved angrily and was about to speak, but Paul, neverglancing in his direction, went on steadily:
"These settlements cannot be uprooted now. They may be damaged. They maybe made to suffer great loss and grief, but the vanguard of our peoplewill never turn back. Neither warrior nor king can withstand it."
Now Paul's look was wholly that of the prophet. As he said the last words,"neither warrior nor king can withstand it" his face was transfigured. Hedid not see the Spaniard before him, nor Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, northe surrounding woods, but he saw instead great states and mighty cities.
The Spaniard, despite his displeasure, was impressed by the words of theyouth, but he took hold of himself bodily, as it were, and shook off thespell. A challenging light sprang into his cold blue eyes.
"I do not know so much about warriors," he said, "but kings may be and areable to do what they will. If my master should choose to put forth hisstrength, even to send his far-extended arm into these woods, to whatwould your tiny settlements amount? A pinch of sand before a puff of wind.Whiff! You are gone. Nor could your people east of the mountains help you,because they, on bended knee, will soon be receiving their own lesson fromthe King of England."
Francisco Alvarez snapped his fingers, as if Paul and his people wereannihilated by a single derisive gesture. Paul reddened and a dangerousflash came into his eyes. But the natural diplomatist in him took control,and he replied with the utmost calmness.
"It may be so, but It is not a question that should arise. The King ofSpain is at peace with us. We even hear, deep in the woods as we are, thathe may take our part against England. France already is helping us. So Ihave come to ask you to take no share in plots against us, not to listento evil counsels, and not to turn ear to traitors, who, having beentraitors to one people, can readily be traitors to another."
Braxton Wyatt leaped to his feet, his face blazing with wrath, and hishand flew to the hilt of the knife at his belt.
"Now this is more than I will stand!" he exclaimed, "you cannot ignore me,Paul Cotter, until such time you choose, and then call me foul names!"
The Spaniard smiled. The sight of Braxton Wyatt's wrath pleased him, buthe put out his hand in a detaining gesture.
"Sit down!" he said in a tone so sharp that Wyatt obeyed. "This is no timefor personal quarrels. As I see it, an embassy has come to us and we mustdiscuss matters of state. Is it not so, Senor, Senor--"
"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 and my menhave nothing to do with the Indians, that we make no treaty, no agreementwith them, that we abandon this country and go back to New Orleans. Thisyou propose despite the fact that the region in which we now are belongsto Spain."
"I would not put it in quite that fashion," replied Paul calmly."I suggest instead that you be our friend. It is natural for the whiteraces to stand together. I suggest that you send away, also, the messengerof the tribes who comes seeking your help to slaughter women and children."
Braxton Wyatt half rose, but again he was put down by the restraininggesture of Francisco Alvarez.
"No personal quarrels, as I stated before," said the Spaniard, "but toyou, Senor Cotter, I wish to say that I have heard your words, but itseems to me they are without weight. I do not agree with you that thesettlements of the Americans cannot be uprooted. Nor am I sure that yourtitle to Kaintock is good. It was claimed in the beginning by France, andjustly, but a great war gave it by might though not by right to England.Now Spain has succeeded to France. Here, throughout all this vast region,there is none to dispute her title. To the east of the Mississippi greatchanges are going on, and it may be that Kaintock, also, will revert to mymaster, the king."
He waved his hand in a gesture of finality, and a look of satisfactioncame into Braxton Wyatt's eyes. The renegade glanced triumphantly at Paul,but Paul's face remained calm.
"You would not proceed to any act of hostility in conjunction with thetribes, when Spain and the colonies are at peace?" said Paul to theSpaniard.
Francisco Alvarez frowned, and assumed a haughty look.
"I make neither promises nor prophecies," he said, "I have spokencourteously to you, Senor Cotter, although you are a trespasser on theSpanish domain. I have given you the hospitality of our camp, but I cannotanswer questions pertaining to the policy of my government."
Paul, for the first time, showed asperity. He, too, drew himself up with adegree of haughtiness, and he looked Don Francisco Alvarez squarely in theeyes, as he replied:
"I did not come here to ask questions. I came merely to say that ournations are at peace, and to urge you not to help savages in a war uponwhite people."
"I do not approve of rebels," said Alvarez.
Paul was silent. He felt instinctively that his mission had failed.Something cold and cruel about the Spaniard repelled him, and he believed,too, that Braxton Wyatt had not been without a sinister influence.
Alvarez arose and walked over to his camp-fire. Braxton Wyatt followed himand whispered rapidly to the Spaniard. Paul, persistent and alwayshopeful, was putting down his anger and trying to think of other effectivewords that he might use. But none would come into his head, and he, too,rose.
"I am sorry that we cannot agree. Captain Alvarez," he said with the gravecourtesy that became him so well, "and therefore I will bid you good day."
A thin smile passed over the face of the Spaniard and the blue eyes shed amomentary, metallic gleam.
"I pray you not to be in haste, Senor Cotter," he said. "Be our guest fora while."
"I must go," replied Paul, "although I thank you for the courtesy."
"But we cannot part with you now," said the Spaniard, "you are on Spanishsoil. Others of your kind may be near, also, and you and 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 that is the word," he replied. "As I said, you have trespassedupon our domain, and I 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 to sustain hisstraight gaze, turned his eyes aside. But Braxton Wyatt's face was full oftriumph, although he kept silent.
Paul thought rapidly. It seemed to him a traitorous design and he did notdoubt that Wyatt had instigated it, but he must submit at present. He waspowerless inside a ring of fifty soldiers. Without a word, he sat downagain on the little grassy knoll and it pleased Alvarez to affect a greatpoliteness, and to play with his prisoner as a cat with a mouse. Heinsisted that he eat and he made his men bring him the tenderest of food,deer meat and wild turkey, and fish, freshly caught. Finally he opened aflask and poured wine in a small silver cup.
"It is the wine of Xeres, Senor Cotter," he said, "and you can judge howprecious it is, as it must be a full five thousand miles from itsbirthplace."
He han
ded the little cup in grandiose manner to Paul, and Paul, meetinghis humor, accepted it in like fashion. He had not tasted wine often inhis life and he found it a strong fluid, but, in this crisis, itstrengthened him and put a new sparkle in his blood.
"Thanks," he said as he politely returned the empty cup, and resumed hisseat on the knoll. Then Alvarez walked aside, and talked again in whisperswith the renegade.
Wyatt urged that Paul be held indefinitely. He would not talk at first,but they must get from him the fullest details about the settlements inKentucky, the weak points, where to attack and when. If the settlementswere left alone they would certainly spread all over Kentucky and in timeacross the Mississippi into the Spanish domain. Spain was far away, andshe could not drive them back. But the Spaniards could urge on the tribesagain, and with a hidden hand, send them arms and ammunition. White menwith cannon could even join the warriors, and Spain might convincingly saythat she knew nothing of if.
The words of the renegade pleased Francisco Alvarez. Deep down in hiscrafty heart he loved intrigue and cunning.
"Yes, we'll hold him," he said. "He is a trespasser here, although I willadmit that he is not the kind of person that I expected to find in theheart of this vast wilderness."
He glanced at Paul, who was sitting on the knoll, calm and apparentlyunconcerned, his fine features at rest, his blue eyes lazily regarding theforest. The blue of Paul's eyes was different from the blue of the eyes ofAlvarez. The blue of his was 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 warn you thatthey are able and dangerous. We must be on our watch against them."
"What friends?" asked the Spaniard incredulously.
"There is a group. They are five. Where one of them is, the other four arenot likely to be far away. There is Cotter's comrade, Henry Ware, a littleolder, and larger and stronger, wonderful in the woods! He surpasses theIndians themselves in cunning and craft. Then comes Sol Hyde, whom theycall the shiftless one, but swift and cunning, and much to be dreaded.Look out for him when he is pretending to be most harmless. And then TomRoss, who has been, a hunter and guide all his life, and the one they callLong Jim, the swiftest runner in the wilderness. Oh, I know them all!"
"Perhaps you have had cause to know them well," said the Spaniard in asardonic tone--he was a keen reader of character, and he understoodBraxton Wyatt.
But Braxton Wyatt ignored the taunt in his anxiety.
"They must not be taken too lightly," he said. "They are somewhere inthese woods, and, Captain, I warn you once more against them."
The Spaniard smiled in his superior way, and, turning to his men, began togive directions for the camp that night. Sunset was not far away, and theywould remain in the glade. His was too strong a force to fear attack inthat isolated region, but Alvarez posted sentinels, and ordered the othersto sleep, when the time came, in a wide ring about the fire. Within thering he and Paul and Wyatt sat, and the Spaniard, maintaining his light,ironic humor, talked much. Paul, if addressed directly by Alvarez, alwaysanswered, but he persistently ignored the renegade. Such a being filledhim with horror, and once, when Wyatt gave him a look of deadly hate, Paulshot back one of his own, fully a match for it. But that was all.
Night came on fast. The red sun shot down. Darkness fell upon the forest,and swept up to the circling rim of the camp fire. Chill came into theair. The Spaniards shivered and crept a little nearer to the coals. Talkceased, and, out of the illimitable forest, came the low, moaning sound ofthe wind among 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 sunny plains wherehe basked in warmth and the eye ranged far. Now, despite himself, he felta chill that was uncanny. The forest, thick and black, spread away, heknew, for hundreds of miles, and neither city nor town broke it. A ferventimagination leaped up and peopled it with weird beings. Nor wouldimagination go down before will and knowledge. Boughs twisted themselvesinto fantastic, 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 lookedacross the fire at his prisoner, but Paul seemed unconscious of the forestand the night, and the demon spell of the two. The lad sat immovable. Uponhis face was the dreamy, mystic look that so often came there. He seemedto be gazing far beyond the Spaniard and the renegade into some greaterfuture.
Francisco Alvarez, brave man though he was, felt awe. He rose impatiently,kicked a coal deeper into the fire, looked once more at Paul, who was yetsilent, 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 blanket if youwish it."
"It's a hospitality to which I'm used," replied Paul, "and I don't needthe extra blanket, although I thank you for the offer."
He took his own blanket from the little roll at his back, wrapped himselfin it, pillowed his head on the knoll, and closed his eyes. FranciscoAlvarez looked at him for some minutes, and could not tell whether he wassleeping or waking, but he thought that he slept. His long, regularbreathing and the expression of his face, as peaceful as that of a littlechild, indicated It.
The night grew chillier. The great stars remained pale and cold, and theforest continued to whine, as that strange, wandering breeze slippedthrough the leaves. Francisco Alvarez of the sunny plains wished that itwould stop. It got upon his nerves, and the feeling it gave him wassingularly like that of an evil conscience. He saw his men fall to sleepone by one, and he heard their heavy breathing. Braxton Wyatt also wrappedhimself in his blanket and soon slumbered. The fire sank, the coalscrumbled, and with soft little hisses, fell together. The circling rim ofdarkness crept up closer and closer, and the trunks of the trees becameghostly in the shadows.
Alvarez saw his sentinels at either side of the camp, to right and left,walking back and forth, and he knew also that they would watch well. Timepassed. The night darkened and then a wan moon came out, casting aghostly, gray shadow over the measureless black forest. The great stars,pale and cold, danced in a dusky blue. Faint moans came out of the depthsof the wilderness, as a stray wind wandered here and there among theleaves. Francisco Alvarez, resolute and self contained though he was,could not sleep. He had taken a bold step in holding the messenger ofpeace, and, although one might do much a thousand wilderness miles fromthe seat of his authority, he was nevertheless anxious to have the fullsupport of Bernardo Galvez, the Spanish governor of Louisiana.
Royalist to the marrow, he wished the colonists to be defeated by theirmother country, and he wished, moreover, that Spain might make secure atitle to all the immense regions in the valley. If he could skillfullycommit Spain to a quarrel with the settlers much might be done for thecause in which his heart was enlisted. He foresaw the truth of Paul'swarning that in a little while nothing could uproot the settlers inKentucky. A blow at them, if it would destroy, must fall quickly, and hemeant that the blow should be given.
His anxiety weighed heavily upon him and the wilderness at night grew moreuncanny. Sleep refused to come. The coals sank lower. One by one theygleamed with the last fitful sparks of dying fire and then went out. Thetwo sentinels, one to the right and one to the left, had sat down now uponfallen logs, but Alvarez knew that they were still watching withcare--they would not dare to do otherwise. All the rest but Alvarez slept.
The Spaniard looked at Braxton Wyatt as he lay in his blanket, one armunder his head, and his lip curled. He despised him, and yet he could bevery useful. He would have to work with him and he must treat him at leastwith superficial politeness. Then he looked at the prisoner. Paul, too,slept soundly, his fine face thrown into relief in the wan moonlight,every sensitive feature revealed. Alvarez wondered again that he shouldfind a youth of such classic countenance and cultivated mind in the deepforest.
The wandering breeze ceas
ed, and the wilderness fell into a silence sodeep and heavy that it preyed upon the nerves of the Spaniard. Then, outof the stillness came a long, plaintive note, wailing, but musical, fullof a quality that made it seem to Alvarez weird and ominous.
"Only the howl of a wolf," muttered the Spaniard, who recognized thelong-drawn cry. But it made him shiver a little, nevertheless. He alonewas awake, except the sentinels, and he felt like a tiny, lost speck inall the vast wilderness. A second time came the cry of the wolf, and thenit was repeated a third and a fourth time. After the fourth it ceased.
The four cries were so distinct, so equal in length, and repeated at suchregular intervals that they seemed to Francisco Alvarez like set notes. Helistened intently, but they did not come again. He glanced at the prisonerbut Paul had not stirred, the moon's rays illuminating his face with apale light. The renegade, too, slept soundly.
Alvarez wrapped himself in his blanket after the fashion of the others,and lay down, but still sleep would not come. He knew that it was far inthe night and he wished to be rested and fresh for the next day, but helay awake, nevertheless. A half hour passed, and then came that plaintivecry of the wolf again. As before, it seemed to be wonderfully distinct andfull of character, but it was nearer now. Francisco Alvarez raisedhimself on his elbow, and heard it a second and then a third and fourthtime. After that only the heavy silence of the forest.
"The same as before," murmured the Spaniard to himself. "The wolf howledfour times. What a coincidence! Bah, I'm becoming a superstitious fool!"
He resolutely closed his eyes and sought slumber once more. It was farpast midnight now, and weary nature began at last her task. His nerveswere soothed. A soft breeze fanned his eyelids with drowsy wing, theforest wavered, swam away, and he slept.
Red dawn was coming when Francisco Alvarez awoke. The fire was dead andcold, and the men around it yet slumbered. The two sentinels, one to theright and one to the left, still sat on the logs, backs toward him. Hetook one glance to see if the prisoner, too, slept, and then he leaped tohis feet with a cry. The prisoner was not there! Nor was he anywhere inthe camp.
"Up! 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 him sharplyacross the back with the flat of his sword.
"Wretch!" he cried, "you have slept!" and he struck him again.
Luiz did not stir, even under the sharp blow. He remained, sitting on thelog, back to his chief, shoulders bent forward, as if he were in aslumber too profound to be disturbed by anything short of a crash ofthunder in his ear. Alvarez, furious with anger, seized him by theshoulder and dragged him back. Then he uttered another cry, in which rageand surprise were mingled in equal portions. But Luiz, the sentinel, stillsaid nothing. He could not. A gag was fixed firmly in his mouth, his armswere bound to his side, his legs to the tree on which he sat, and hisrifle had been left standing between his knees and against his shoulder,as if held by one who watched.
The unfortunate sentinel gazed up at his chief with wide-open, appealingeyes, and, leaving him with the men, who were now crowding around he ranto the other sentinel. Pedro, only to find him gagged and bound, exactlylike his comrade. It was some minutes before either could speak, afterthey were cut loose and their gags removed, and then their tales were thesame.
"I watched. I watched well, Captain," said Luiz, "by the Holy Virgin Iswear it! Never in this whole terrible night, not for a moment, have myeyes closed. I saw nothing, I heard nothing but a wolf howling in theforest, and then, long after midnight, I was suddenly seized from behindby powerful hands. I could not move, so strong were they. I was gagged andbound and I could see only the phantom figures of the men who did it. Iknow no more."
Pedro, with many supplications, repeated the tale, and Francisco Alvarezwas forced to believe them, although he cursed them for carelessness, andpromised them punishment. Braxton Wyatt had remained silent, although hisface showed deep disappointment. Presently, when the turmoil had dieddown, he said in a low voice to Alvarez:
"What was it that the sentinel said about hearing the howl of a wolf?"
"I heard it myself," replied Alvarez. "It was about midnight, when a wolfto the north howled four times. An hour or so later I heard it again,somewhat nearer and somewhat to the west, when it howled four times asbefore."
"Ah!" said Braxton Wyatt.
It was a short exclamation, but it was so full of significance that theSpaniard in surprise, asked him what he meant.
"Four cries," replied the renegade, "and he had four friends, of whom Itold you to beware. I told you what they were, what cunning and skill theyhave, but you would not believe me and you must now! Cotter heard the fourcries. He was not asleep and he understood!"
Braxton Wyatt, despite his annoyance at Paul's escape, felt a moment oftriumph. His warning had come true. He had been wiser than this Spaniardwho had patronised and insulted him.
"We will deal with these people yet," said Francisco Alvarez angrily as heturned away.
"I hope so," replied Braxton Wyatt.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: An early French and Spanish name for Kentucky.]