best."

"It is so," said the Spaniard. "Our presence here is unknown to all save
the chiefs and yourself. In this wilderness, a thousand miles from his
superior, one must act according to his judgment, and I should like to see
these rebel settlements crushed."

He spoke to himself rather than to Wyatt, and again his eyes narrowed.
Blue eyes are generally warm and sympathetic, but his were of the cold,
metallic shade that can express cruelty so well. He plucked, too, at his
short, light beard, and Braxton Wyatt read his thoughts. The renegade felt
a thrill of satisfaction. Here was a man who could be useful.

"How far is it from this place to the land of the Miamis and the
Shawnees?" asked Alvarez.

"It must be six or seven hundred miles, but bands of both tribes are now
hunting much farther west. One Shawnee party that I know of is even now
west of the Mississippi."

Francisco Alvarez, frowned slightly.

"It is a huge country," he said. "These great distances annoy me. Still,
one must travel them. Ah, what is it now?"

He was looking at Braxton Wyatt, as he spoke, and he saw a sudden change
appear upon his face, a look of recognition and then of mingled hate and
rage. The renegade was staring Northward, and the eyes of Alvarez followed
his.