Chapter XI. The Spaniard's Offer - Page 2

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"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 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 Senior 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