“I do not approve of rebels,” said Alvarez.

Paul was silent.  He felt instinctively that his mission had failed.  Something cold and cruel about the Spaniard repelled him, and he believed, too, that Braxton Wyatt had not been without a sinister influence.

Alvarez arose and walked over to his camp-fire.  Braxton Wyatt followed him and whispered rapidly to the Spaniard.  Paul, persistent and always hopeful, was putting down his anger and trying to think of other effective words that he might use.  But none would come into his head, and he, too, rose.

“I am sorry that we cannot agree.  Captain Alvarez,” he said with the grave courtesy that became him so well, “and therefore I will bid you good day.”

A thin smile passed over the face of the Spaniard and the blue eyes shed a momentary, metallic gleam.

“I pray you not to be in haste, Senor Cotter,” he said.  “Be our guest for a while.”

“I must go,” replied Paul, “although I thank you for the courtesy.”

“But we cannot part with you now,” said the Spaniard, “you are on Spanish soil.  Others of your kind may be near, also, and you and they have come, uninvited.  I would know more about it.”

“You mean that you will detain me?” said Paul in surprise.

The Spaniard delicately stroked his pointed beard.

“Perhaps that is the word,” he replied.  “As I said, you have trespassed upon our domain, and I must hold you, for a time, at least.  I know not what plot is afoot”

“As a prisoner?”

“If you wish to call it so.”

“And yet there is no war between your country and mine!”

The Spaniard delicately stroked his pointed beard again.

Paul looked at him accusingly, and Francisco Alvarez unable to sustain his straight gaze, turned his eyes aside.  But Braxton Wyatt’s face was full of triumph, although he kept silent.

Paul thought rapidly.  It seemed to him a traitorous design and he did not doubt that Wyatt had instigated it, but he must submit at present.  He was powerless inside a ring of fifty soldiers.  Without a word, he sat down again on the little grassy knoll and it pleased Alvarez to affect a great politeness, and to play with his prisoner as a cat with a mouse.  He insisted that he eat and he made his men bring him the tenderest of food, deer meat and wild turkey, and fish, freshly caught.  Finally he opened a flask and poured wine in a small silver cup.

“It is the wine of Xeres, Senor Cotter,” he said, “and you can judge how precious it is, as it must be a full five thousand miles from its birthplace.”

He handed the little cup in grandiose manner to Paul, and Paul, meeting his humor, accepted it in like fashion.  He had not tasted wine often in his life and he found it a strong fluid, but, in this crisis, it strengthened him and put a new sparkle in his blood.

“Thanks,” he said as he politely returned the empty cup, and resumed his seat on the knoll.  Then Alvarez walked aside, and talked again in whispers with the renegade.