“I am glad to find you here, Captain Alvarez,” said Paul with a gravity beyond his years; indeed, as he spoke, his face was lighted up by that same singular look of exaltation that had passed more than once over the face of the shiftless one.  “And I am glad because I have come for a reason, one of the greatest of all reasons.  I want to say something, not for myself, but for others.”

“Ah, an ambassador, I see,” said Francisco Alvarez with a light touch of irony.

But Paul took no notice of the satire.  He was far too much in earnest, and he resumed in tones impressive in their solemnity: 

“I am from one of the little white villages in the Kentucky woods far to the eastward.  There we have fought the wilderness and twice we have driven back strong forces of the allied tribes, although they came with great resolution and were helped moreover by treachery.”

Braxton Wyatt moved angrily and was about to speak, but Paul, never glancing in his direction, went on steadily: 

“These settlements cannot be uprooted now.  They may be damaged.  They may be made to suffer great loss and grief, but the vanguard of our people will never turn back.  Neither warrior nor king can withstand it.”

Now Paul’s look was wholly that of the prophet.  As he said the last words, “neither warrior nor king can withstand it” his face was transfigured.  He did not see the Spaniard before him, nor Braxton Wyatt, the renegade, nor the surrounding woods, but he saw instead great states and mighty cities.

The Spaniard, despite his displeasure, was impressed by the words of the youth, but he took hold of himself bodily, as it were, and shook off the spell.  A challenging light sprang into his cold blue eyes.

“I do not know so much about warriors,” he said, “but kings may be and are able to do what they will.  If my master should choose to put forth his strength, even to send his far-extended arm into these woods, to what would your tiny settlements amount?  A pinch of sand before a puff of wind.  Whiff!  You are gone.  Nor could your people east of the mountains help you, because they, on bended knee, will soon be receiving their own lesson from the King of England.”

Francisco Alvarez snapped his fingers, as if Paul and his people were annihilated by a single derisive gesture.  Paul reddened and a dangerous flash came into his eyes.  But the natural diplomatist in him took control, and he replied with the utmost calmness.

“It may be so, but It is not a question that should arise.  The King of Spain is at peace with us.  We even hear, deep in the woods as we are, that he may take our part against England.  France already is helping us.  So I have come to ask you to take no share in plots against us, not to listen to evil counsels, and not to turn ear to traitors, who, having been traitors to one people, can readily be traitors to another.”

Braxton Wyatt leaped to his feet, his face blazing with wrath, and his hand flew to the hilt of the knife at his belt.