Chapter 11: The Spaniard’s Offer

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

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

Then he turned to Luiz.

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

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

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

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

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

But Long Jim instantly demurred.

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

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

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

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

Wyatt paled a little, but instantly recovered himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, it is wiser,” said Paul.

“So long, boys,” said Henry. “I’ll be back pretty soon.”

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

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

“There,” he said, “I think we’ve got that cattle securely fastened in the pen!”

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

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

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

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

“I wish to speak alone, absolutely alone, to Señor Ware, and I must ask you to leave us for a little while.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But will they come?” asked Henry pointedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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