“What is this interruption?  How dare you?” exclaimed the Governor General.

But the little Catalan was never more thoroughly master of himself.  His uniform was never more resplendent, and the lace at throat and sleeves never fuller.  He bore himself, too, with the utmost dignity because he knew that he was about to make an announcement of the utmost importance.  Moreover, he was a favorite with Bernardo Galvez.

“Your Excellency,” he said, with dramatic effect, “a man has come craving immediate audience with you.  He says that his news cannot wait, and, in order to secure entrance at once to your presence, he has given me the purport of it.  He is here now.”

A tall figure in a black robe, the face thin and austere, walked boldly into the room.  Mighty was the power of Holy Church in the colonies of France and Spain and this priest who expected torture and death some day feared neither Bernardo Galvez nor anybody else.

“Father Montigny!” exclaimed every one of the five and, “Father Montigny!” repeated Francisco Alvarez and Braxton Wyatt.  Bernardo Galvez rose from his chair and saluted the priest courteously.  He knew him well.

“What is this business, so urgent in its nature, Father,” said the Governor General.

“I came to Beaulieu when Captain Alvarez had set the bully upon this youth,” said Father Montigny, pointing to Paul.

“I have already acknowledged my fault there,” exclaimed Alvarez.  “It was an impulse!  Need I be accused of it again?”

Father Montigny turned his gaze upon Alvarez, and the Captain, bold as he was, feared it more than that of Bernardo Galvez.

“That is but a preamble,” continued the priest, the Governor General not noticing the interruption, “but it caused me to take especial notice of what might be occurring in Louisiana at the furthest limits of settlement.  I went thence among the Cherokees and Creeks and kindred tribes and I found them stirred by a great emotion.  They were preparing for the war trail.  Messengers had come from tribes in the far north, Shawnees, Miamis, Wyandots, and others, whom they have fought for generations in the region, lying between them, known to them as the Dark and Bloody Ground, and to us as Kaintock.”

Francisco Alvarez suddenly paled, and looked away from the priest.

“What was the purport of these messages?” asked Bernardo Galvez.

“That there must be peace for the time being between the northern and southern tribes.  The northern tribes would march south and the southern would march north.  When they met they would be joined also by Spanish soldiers with cannon, and the three forces would destroy forever the new white settlements in Kaintock.”

The pallor of Alvarez deepened, but Oliver Pollock still sat immovable, his expression not changing.  Bernardo Galvez looked straight at Alvarez, and there was lightning in his gaze.

“How was this alliance formed?” asked the Governor General.  “Some powerful connection, some strong intermediary, must have drawn these warring northern and southern tribes together.  And above all why did they expect Spanish troops and Spanish cannon?”