The Spaniard and Braxton Wyatt were sitting now upon the piazza drinking a cool decoction of West Indian origin, and Alvarez was commenting upon what he called his good fortune.

“All things favor us, Wyatt,” he said.  “No proof reaches the ears of Bernardo Galvez and the galleon, Dona Isabel, will certainly arrive next week from Spain.  If I mistake not, she will bring news welcome to me and unwelcome to Bernardo Galvez.”

“If you become Governor General what will you do with the Kentuckians in the fort?” asked Wyatt.

Alvarez laughed, and it was a very unpleasant laugh to hear.

“I do not know what I shall do with them,” he said, “but I am sure of one fact.  They will never see Kaintock again.  The powers of a Governor General are very great.”

Braxton Wyatt was satisfied with the answer.  His wicked heart throbbed at the thought that the five would never more roam their beloved forests.  He, too, looked forward to the arrival of the galleon, Dona Isabel, with welcome news.  He saw how useful he was to Alvarez, and if the Spaniard rose, he must rise with him.

The two, after these few words, sat in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts, which, however, were largely the same.  Alvarez rose presently and went into the house.  If all things went as he wished, there were certain letters that he would send to powerful friends in Spain, and now was a good time to make rough drafts of them.

Braxton Wyatt remained on the piazza.  It was wonderfully cool and pleasant there, after the heat of the day.  The wind blew musically among the orange trees, and the air was spiced with pleasant odors.  Braxton Wyatt’s thoughts were pleasant, too.  He liked this luxurious southern life.  Though born to the forest, and a good woodsman, he had sybaritic tastes, which needed only opportunity to bud and bloom.

Now, like the Arab who had the glass for sale, he was building his great future.  Alvarez would be Governor General of Louisiana, and he, Braxton Wyatt, would be his trusted and necessary lieutenant.  The five whom he hated would be removed under the new rule from the military prison to dungeons, where they would gradually be lost to the sight of man, never to be heard of again.  The Indians and the Spaniards with their cannon would destroy the settlements in Kentucky, and he would become, if not the first, at least the second man in His Most Catholic Majesty’s huge province of Louisiana.  And it was not absolutely necessary to be Spanish-born to become in time a Governor General himself.

Time passed.  It was very quiet within the belt of magnolias and cypresses and orange trees and but little noise came from the town, the stray shout of a reveler, a snatch of a song, and then nothing more.

Braxton Wyatt, still filled with his dreams, arose and stepped down from the piazza.  The happy future promoted in him a certain physical activity, and he wanted to walk among the trees.  He stepped into their shadow, strolled a rod or so, and then stopped.  His acute, forest-bred ear had brought to him a sound which was not that of the wind nor any echo of a gay reveler’s song.