Henry walked all the way across the room and gently put the half-stunned man in a sitting position in his chair.  A roar of applause shook the room at this remarkable performance, and Monsieur Gilibert was not the slackest among those who cheered.  Never before had the Inn of Henri Quatre witnessed such an extraordinary feat of strength.  Lieutenant Diego Bernal sprang to his feet and again seized Henry’s right hand in both of his.

“Senor,” he exclaimed, “it is an honor to me to deem myself your friend!”

Alonzo Menocal arose from his chair and came across the room.  Paul’s hand moved to the butt of the pistol in his belt, but the intentions of the West Indian were not hostile.

“Thou hast conquered,” he said to Henry in his queer thee- and thou-English.  “Thou art not only the taller and the larger, but also the stronger and the more skillful.  It is the first time that Alonzo Menocal was ever picked up, carried across a room, and put down in his chair, as a mother puts her baby to bed.”

He put out his hand in quite an American fashion, and Henry shook it, glad that the man was good-natured.  More applause greeted this act of friendship by the two and, taking advantage of it, the five went out, accompanied by Lieutenant Bernal, all in great good humor.

Night was coming on, and they felt that it was time to return to “The Galleon.”  A man was already lighting the smoking oil lamps that hung from the wooden arms of the posts, and from one of the forts a sentinel was calling the hour.

New Orleans looked better under the softening hue of the twilight.  Many of the asperities that go as a matter of course with newness were hidden, but the smells remained.

“Wish I could sleep in the woods to-night, with nuthin’ but trees runnin’ away at least ten miles in every direction,” said Long Jim.

“It will be all right in our boat on the river,” said Paul.

“I think I shall go with you as far as your boat,” said Lieutenant Bernal.

“You’re welcome.  Come on,” said Henry, confident of his friendship.

The five and the lieutenant walked swiftly toward the Mississippi.

CHAPTER XV

BEFORE BERNARDO GALVEZ

It took only a few minutes to reach the banks of the stream, and they saw at once that an event was occurring.  New Orleans could rejoice, if she choose, in honor of an important arrival.

A fleet of a dozen large boats swung from the middle of the stream and made for the levee.  In the boats were men in uniform.

“I have an impression, though my impressions are often wrong and my memory always weak, that yonder cavalier who sits haughtily in the boat as if he were sole proprietor of the Mississippi, is your good friend, Don Francisco Alvarez,” said Lieutenant Bernal in his mincing way.

They had all recognized Alvarez, and they expected quick trouble.  As it was bound to come they had no objection to its coming at once.  The boat of Alvarez made the landing and as he sprang out he was followed by Braxton Wyatt, also in the uniform of a Spanish officer.  The eyes of the Captain instantly caught sight of “The Galleon,” then of the five, and then of Lieutenant Diego Bernal standing near the Americans.