"Francisco Alvarez has escaped," he said. "The watch at the prison was
none too strict; it may be that some of the guards themselves were friends
of his. In any event, he is gone from the city, and his going has been
followed by the departure of many men whom New Orleans could well spare.
But whether their going now will be to our benefit I cannot tell."

"Do you mean to say," asked Henry, "that all these men have gone away to
join Alvarez in some desperate adventure?"

"I have an impression, although my impressions are usually false," replied
the Lieutenant, "that such is the case. The Chickasaws, the Creeks, and
other tribes of these regions are his friends because he has promised them
much. A capable officer with a hundred desperate white men at his back and
a horde of Indians might create stirring events."

The five became very thoughtful over what he said, but when Lieutenant
Diégo Bernal was taking his leave he looked at them rather enviously.

"You five inspire me with a certain jealousy," he said. "I have an
impression, although my impressions are usually wrong and my memory always
weak, that you are strongly attached to one another, that no one ever
hesitates to risk death for the others, that you are bound together by a
hundred ties, and that you act together for the common good. Ah, that is
something like friendship, real friendship, I should like to be one of a
band like yours, but I look in vain for such a thing in New Orleans."

"I wish that you were going with us," said Henry heartily.

"I wish it, too. Often I long for the great forests and the free air as
you do, but my service is due here to Bernardo Galvez, who is my good