The Free Rangers: A Story of the Early Days Along the Mississippi, Altsheler [great novels of all time TXT] 📗

that Alvarez held out to him. He felt an immense indignation, but he was still master of himself, and he replied quietly.

"I could not leave my own people, nor would any of my comrades. The air of Louisiana does not suit us. We are accustomed to a colder climate. We feel, too, that Kaintock can take care of herself. Nor is it sure that the Eastern colonies will be crushed by the King. But, should they be, Kentucky would never desert them to join Spain."

Alvarez frowned, and his temper began to rise. Henry was showing more finesse and more knowledge of the world and its events than he had thought possible in one just come out of the woods.

"By entering my service, by becoming a lieutenant of mine, you have all to gain and nothing to lose," he said, resuming his customary tone of superiority.

Henry instantly felt the change of manner and resented it.

"I could not dream of accepting such an offer," he said, "but, if I should, I'd merely take the place that you've already given to Braxton Wyatt, a renegade. He thinks it is his, and you have made him think it is his. If you do not keep faith with him how could I believe that you would keep faith with me?"

The dark blood of anger flushed the Spaniard's face. He half rose from his seat and then sat down again.

"I have made you an offer," he said, "one that any youth or young man should be proud to accept, and you insult me by saying that you doubt my faith. You are a child, a backwoodsman, and an ignorant fellow!"

"I am not ignorant about some things of importance," replied Henry calmly, "but, if I were low enough to be tempted by your offer, I should still be wise enough to know that a man who plots against his own superior officer could not be trusted by me." "What do you mean?" asked Alvarez, paling for a moment.

"Is it not true that by fair or foul means you expect shortly to succeed Bernardo Galvez as Governor General of Louisiana?"

The Spaniard's hand flew to his sword hilt. Such things as these were not to be known by everybody. But Henry met his gaze steadily, and the hand fell away from the sword-hilt. He had gone too far already. He was sorry that he had turned the professional swordsman loose on Paul—it had been an unwise deed—and another act of violence in a single day was unworthy a man of his self-control. No, a new and better plan came suddenly into his mind.

The two sat for a few moments gazing steadily at each other. Alvarez was in the higher chair, and that gave him the physical advantage, but the look of the fearless youth was like the sharp sword that cuts scornfully through the maze and web of intrigue and trickery. Alvarez was forced to turn his gaze aside, and his soul was full of tumult and anger because he had to yield. The new plan that he had conceived in regard to this daring boy now seemed a peculiarly happy thought. Henry's pride and spirit must be broken, and he, Francisco Alvarez, was the man for the task.

He clapped his hands and a soldier entered. He sent a message by him and several more came, accompanied by Braxton Wyatt. Alvarez motioned Wyatt to a seat.

"Señor Wyatt," he said in his slow, precise English, "I have been having a talk with your friend, your former friend here, and I find him to be as unworthy as you have described him to be. I offered only kindness to himself and his friends. I chose to believe that they had been merely foolish, misled by ignorance, but his reply has been only to insult me and to blacken you."

The renegade did not seek to conceal the joy that shone in his eyes. He had been in fear when he was sent out of the hall, in fear lest Alvarez had some plan by which he would suffer, and now it was obvious that nothing had been changed.

"It is his character," said Wyatt. "He is vicious and the truth has never been in him."

Henry did not know what all this talk meant, but he refused to notice Braxton Wyatt. His manner indicated that the renegade had ceased to exist, and it made Wyatt furious.

"You tell the truth," continued Alvarez, "but he is dangerous, too, as you told me, a strong, wily fellow, and I shall not take any chances on his escape. See, I am providing against it."

A soldier entered, bearing balls and chain, and Alvarez pointed to Henry. The youth sprang to his feet. He knew that this was intended as an indignity, and his mind rebelled.

"Put them on him," said Alvarez, and the soldiers approached. Henry hurled the first back and then the second, but the others were about to fling themselves upon him in a heap, when a voice from the door cried:

"Stop!"

It was not a loud voice, but one full of dignity and command, and the soldiers instantly fell back.

A tall man, robed in black, and with a thin face, smoothly shaven and austere, stood in the doorway. The eyes, usually benevolent and kindly, sparkled with indignation, and one hand was uplifted in rebuke.

"Father Montigny!" said Henry, under his breath.

"Who says 'stop!' here, where I command?" Alvarez exclaimed, and then he paled at sight of the priest. The Spaniard was a bold man, but he wished no conflict with Holy Church.

"I said 'stop,'" replied the priest with calm dignity, advancing into the room. "Francisco Alvarez, you were about to perform a deed unworthy of yourself, one that you would have cause to regret. There is no war between Louisiana and Kaintock. What right have you to put this youth in chains?"

He took a step further, and the rebuking hand was still uplifted. The soldiers shrank back and more than one crossed himself. Yet they were relieved, as Father Montigny had interfered with a task that they did not like.

"I have the utmost respect for Holy Church," replied Alvarez, though it cost him an effort to utter the words, "but I am in command here and all military affairs fall under my jurisdiction. This young man is a dangerous spy and plotter from Kaintock, one who has used force against us. He and his comrades seized one of our boats and that was an act of war."

"He is a good youth," said Father Montigny. "He and his comrades did me a great service. I know that his motives are good, and I will not see him treated in such barbarous fashion."

The face of Alvarez darkened. This was more than he could stand.

"I am the judge in these matters," he replied, "and I tell you, Father Montigny, that you must not interfere. Your order, the Capuchins, are in power now at New Orleans, as I know, but the Jesuits may come back. I should favor their returning."

"It is not a question of Capuchin or Jesuit," replied Father Montigny sternly, "and you, Francisco Alvarez, should know it. It is a question of you and what you are doing here. You need not make any threats against me. I care for none of them, but Bernardo Galvez, the Governor General at New Orleans, shall know of what is passing at Beaulieu."

The face of Alvarez contracted into a terrible frown. Nevertheless he feared the unarmed priest. He was helpless against him and he feared, too, that if he persisted Father Montigny would quickly learn of other and deeper matters. He broke into a short and by no means hearty laugh.

"Perhaps I was going rather far," he said, "but this youth has provoked me beyond endurance. Take away those things, Gaspar."

The Spaniard whom he indicated took the irons, and Henry sat down again in his chair. The threatened ignominy had stung him deeply and he said under his breath: "I thank you, Father Montigny." Then Alvarez ordered Henry to be taken away, also.

Henry arose without resistance, and walked from the hall with the soldiers. As he passed, Father Montigny put his hand on his shoulder and said: "I am your friend, my son."

Henry said nothing but gave him a look of deep gratitude as he walked proudly out.

CHAPTER XII THE SHADOW IN THE FOREST

Luiz and his comrades escorted Henry back to the prison, and the expressive face of Luiz showed pleasure. He made a vigorous pantomime and spoke words in Spanish.

"Yes, I understand your meaning if not your language, my friend," said Henry, "and I thank you. I am glad to know that I have your good will."

When the door of his prison was thrown open and Henry was then shut in again with his comrades they looked at him expectantly.

"Well?" said Paul.

"What happened?" said Long Jim.

"Anything to tell?" said Tom Ross.

"How's your shoulder, Paul?" asked Henry.

"Fast getting well," replied Paul, who knew that his comrade would speak in his own good time.

Henry sat on the floor and leaned against the wall in as comfortable a position as he could assume. Then he looked rather humorously at his comrades.

"Alvarez wanted to bribe me," he said.

"To bribe you? What do you mean?"

"Yes, to bribe me—and all of us together. He wanted us to serve him here in Louisiana, and help him in an attempt to bring over Kentucky to Spain."

"That is, he wanted to make Braxton Wyatts out of us?" said Paul.

"You put it exactly right, Paul," said Henry, "I laughed at him, and called him by the names that belonged to him. He brought in Braxton Wyatt and the soldiers and ordered me to be put in irons, there in his presence."

"What!" exclaimed Paul, "did he dare that, too?"

"Yes. His object, of course, was to humiliate me—and all of us. It was stopped by one who came in at the right moment. You couldn't guess who it was."

"It must a-been Shif'less Sol," said Long Jim, whose mind ran to physical deeds. "I guess he sent a bullet right into the middle uv that rascal crew. Sol's the boy to be right on the spot when he's needed."

Henry laughed.

"No, Jim," he said. "That's a pretty wild guess. It was none other than Father Montigny, the man whom we helped. He paid us back sooner than we thought. You ought to have seen him, Paul. He looked like an avenging angel. He stood there, a single, unarmed man, and they were afraid of him. I could see fear on every one of their faces."

Paul's vivid imagination instantly painted the whole scene. It appealed to him with tremendous power. It was the triumph of mind and character over force and wickedness.

"I can see Father Montigny now," he said. "A man who always does right and has no fear whatever of death, is afraid of nothing, either in this world or the world to come."

"Which gives him a pow'ful sight uv freedom," said Long Jim.

"When he told them to stop they took away their balls and chain," said Henry, "and sent me back here. Alvarez realized that he had gone too far, but I think that he fears Father Montigny for other reasons, too. The priest may put the Governor General on his guard."

"So we ain't alone," said Long Jim musingly. "Curious how you git help when you ain't expectin' it. The wicked hev it their way fur a while, an' then they don't. They don't ever seem able to finish up their work. Sometimes I think the right is jest like a river flowin' on in its nateral channel, an' boun' to git to the sea after a while, no matter what happens. The wrong is all them dams, an' san' bars an' snags, and brush an' drift-wood that people an' chance pile up in the way. They do choke up the waters, an' send 'em around in other channels, an' make a heap uv trouble, but by and by them waters git to the sea jest the same."

"I hope so, Jim," said Paul.

"Now thar ain't no doubt uv what I say," said Long Jim. "Take this case uv ourn. Jest when we need it most fur a thousand miles uv river travel we git a bee-yu-ti-ful boat, all fitted up with everything we want. Jest when that Spaniard gits his paws on us, he don't git his paws on one uv us, an' that's Shif'less Sol out thar in the woods. An' so long ez Shif'less Sol is free out thar in the woods we're mighty nigh free ourselves. Then, when this same Spaniard is ready to load irons on Henry in a way that no free-born man kin stand, in pops a priest who likes us—an' we don't belong