“You have done well with the sword,” he said to Paul, “I admit it, and I am in a position to know.  But you must surrender it, and come as my prisoner.  Your sword can be no defense against the bullets of my soldiers.”

Paul yielded his weapon.  It would have been folly to resist when the soldiers stood close by, loaded guns in hand, but he felt, nevertheless, a deep satisfaction.  He had performed a deed of valor, worthy of Shif’less Sol or Henry, and he proudly took his place by the side of the other prisoner, Long Jim.  The wound in his arm had already stopped bleeding.

“I didn’t know it was in you, Paul,” whispered Long Jim, “but I never had anything in my life do me more good.  A lot uv wicked hopes wuz disapp’inted when you give him that slash in the side, an’ then broke his sword.”

“I did better than I expected,” replied Paul briefly, “but the result is not likely to endear us to Captain Alvarez.”

“Ef I’d been keepin’ the right kind uv a watch,” said Long Jim, “this wouldn’t have happened.  We could a’ got ‘The Gall-yun’ out in the stream an’ away.”

“No, Jim,” replied Paul, “it was no fault of yours.  Cunning was at work.  They had located us in some manner and they prepared a surprise.”

Alvarez and Braxton Wyatt went on ahead.  Paul and Jim followed in the midst of a strong guard of soldiers.  The road led again through corn and grain fields where cultivation was making a struggle against the luxuriance of a semi-tropical wilderness, although with small success, as yet.

A stooping figure with a hideous, feline face shambled up by the side of Paul, and purposely struck his elbow against the wound upon his arm.  It was The Cat, but Paul, whose arms had been left unbound, whirled, without hesitation, and struck the Natchez in the face.

The Cat staggered but he promptly drew a knife and Paul might have been slain, but a soldier knocked the knife from the Indian’s hand and rebuked him severely.  The soldier was Luiz, a Spaniard of height and strength.  He had fared badly at the hands of the five, but his life had also been saved by one of them, and he was not ungrateful.  He did not mean that these two prisoners should be treated any worse than the captain ordered.  He compelled The Cat to fall back, and he smiled pleasantly at Paul and Long Jim.

“I’ll take it that we’ve got one friend in this crowd,” said Long Jim.

“Yes,” said Paul, “and we’ll need all we can get.  Alvarez seems to have a big place here, a sort of feudal estate.”

It seemed to Paul that he had come into another world; the difference between this and Kentucky was so enormous.  There, in the little settlements, every man spoke his mind and the life was all freedom.  Here, fear and suspicion abounded, there were degrees of importance, and Alvarez was an autocrat who could make or mar as he pleased.  It was an atmosphere heavy to Paul’s lungs, and, like Long Jim, he