The fair man was leaning lazily but gracefully against the trunk of a tree, and he talked in a manner that seemed indolent and careless, but which was neither to a youth in buckskins who sat opposite him, a striking contrast in appearance. This youth was undeniably of the Anglo-Saxon type, large and well-built, with a broad, full forehead, but with eyes set too close together. He was tanned almost to the darkness of an Indian. "You tell me, Senor Wyatt," said Don Francisco Alvarez, the leader of the Spanish band, "that the new settlers in Kaintock[A] have twice driven off the allied tribes, and that, if they are left alone another year or two, they will go down so deep in the soil that they can never be uprooted. Is it not so?" "It is so," replied Braxton Wyatt, the renegade. "The tribes have failed twice in a great effort. Every man among these settlers is a daring and skillful fighter, and many of the boys--and many of the women, too. But if white troops and cannon are sent against them their forts must fall." The Spaniard was idly whipping the grass stems with a little switch. Now he narrowed his metallic, blue eyes, and gazed directly into those of Braxton Wyatt. "And you, Senor Wyatt?" he said, speaking his slow, precise English. "Nothing premeditated is done without a motive. You are of these people who live in Kaintock, their blood is your blood; why then do you wish to have them destroyed?" A deep flush broke its way through the brown tan on the face of Braxton Wyatt, and his eyes fell before the cold gaze of the Spaniard. But he raised them again in a moment. Braxton Wyatt was not a coward, and he never permitted a guilty conscience to last longer than a throb or two. "I did belong to them," he replied, "but my tastes led me away. I have felt that all this mighty valley should belong to the Indians who have inhabited it so long, but, if the white people come, it should be those who are true and loyal to their kings, not these rebels of the colonies." Francisco Alvarez smiled cynically, and once more surveyed Braxton Wyatt, with a rapid, measuring glance. "You speak my sentiments, Senor Wyatt," he said, "and you speak them in a language that I scarcely expected." "I had a schoolmaster even in the wilderness," said Braxton Wyatt. "And I may tell you, too, as proof of my faith that I would be hanged at once should I return to the settlements." "I do not doubt your faith. I was merely curious about your motives. I am sure also that you can be of great help to us." He spoke in a patronizing manner, and Braxton Wyatt moved slightly in anger, but restrained his speech.