The Spaniard's only reply was to hold his head a little higher. It was his plan now to a.s.sume his haughtiest manner. The little fear that he had done wrong, that his act in forcing Paul into the ring against a professional swordsman, a gladiator as it were, was mediaeval, and that harm might come to him from it, clung to him. But pride bade him never to show it.

As he and Braxton Wyatt went into the Chateau of Beaulieu, the doors of the log prison closed upon the four comrades. Paul, under the care of Luiz, reached it first but the others were just behind. Paul sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. The others bent tenderly over him. But Paul looked up at them and smiled.

"It isn't much," he said. "The sword only grazed me. My clothing saved me from a bad cut. But I wish you boys, whatever happens, would remember that Spaniard, Luiz. He's been kind to me."

"We'll do it," said Henry. "I don't know what will come of all this, Paul, but I feel sure that we'll succeed."

"Of course," said Paul, "but you came just in time, and that was a great shot of yours."

"We were in the woods," said Henry, "and we saw the crowd gathering. We knew some mischief was afoot, and they were so eager on it that we came up unnoticed. I wanted Tom to stay back, but he was afraid he would be needed."

"And Shif'less Sol?" said Paul. "Where is he?"

Henry laughed.

"The shiftless one is about the shiftiest man in the wilderness," he replied. "Do you suppose that he would ever walk into a trap, when there was nothing inside the trap worth the risk? Didn't he know that Tom and I were sufficient for any task that might be ahead of us this morning?"

Paul laughed, too, and the others were glad to see the color coming back into his face.

"Good old Sol," he said, "I'm glad he didn't come too. He's somewhere out there in the woods, and he's the one link between us and Kentucky. We'll be sure to hear from him."

They talked of their plans, but for the time, they could see no way.

Shif'less Sol might go on alone to New Orleans, but it needed the presence of the five to be convincing.

"He wouldn't go anyhow," said Paul. "Sol would never leave us here."

Luiz brought them food and water at noon, and then they were left again to themselves.

CHAPTER XI

THE SPANIARD'S OFFER

The afternoon pa.s.sed 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 grat.i.tude 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 grat.i.tude 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 pa.s.sionately.

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: