captured these fellows and recovered my boat. It was an important
achievement."

Braxton Wyatt looked with intense interest at the chateau, which was
unlike anything that he had ever seen before. It was a strange compound of
luxury and roughness. The walls were of wood, often ill-hewn, but several
pieces of beautifully-woven tapestry hung upon them. Some of the floors
were entirely bare, others were covered partly by Eastern rugs. Carved and
curved weapons of many lands adorned the walls, and in one room were a
mandolin and guitar.

Alvarez led the way to an inner court or patio, waving back all except
Braxton Wyatt. The patio was large, with little beds of flowers in the
corners, and a pool of pure, fresh water in the center. The pool was fed
by a little stream that ran from a brook near the chateau, and it was
drained by a similar stream.

The patio was enclosed by a narrow, interior veranda, and the veranda held
deep cane chairs, one of which Alvarez took, waving Braxton Wyatt to
another.

The Spanish commander with a great air of relief and luxury leaned back in
his cane chair. He loved the south and the sunshine to which he was born,
and, although bold and hardy, he had little liking for the great, cold
forests of the North. He clapped his hand and a servant brought glasses
and wine. Alvarez filled the glasses himself and handed the first
courteously to Wyatt.

"Drink," he said, "I am glad that expedition is over. The Governor General
wished me to go, to explore, to make treaties, and to secure our title,
but the wilderness, though interesting, grows monotonous."

"It is comfortable here," said Braxton Wyatt, stretching himself in the
great cane chair. He was entirely recovered from his own wound and he
appreciated the luxury of the place.

"Yes, it is indeed grateful to the tired body and limbs. I could feel a
complete sense of rest and victory, if it were not for the sting of the
wound that boy gave me. Who could have thought that I should be defeated
with the sword by a boy from the woods of Kaintock?"

The Spaniard frowned and narrowed his cruel blue eyes. Braxton Wyatt
murmured some words of sympathy, but in his heart he was not sorry because
of the incident. He thought that Alvarez at times had patronized him too
much, had assumed too lofty an air, and he was willing to see him suffer
mortification. Moreover, he could use the hurt pride of Alvarez as an
additional incitement against the five whom h