unconcerned, his fine features at rest, his blue eyes lazily regarding the
forest. The blue of Paul's eyes was different from the blue of the eyes of
Alvarez. The blue of his was deep, warm, and sympathetic.

"Is it likely that Cotter is alone?" Alvarez asked of Wyatt.

"Not at all," replied the renegade. "He has friends, and I warn you that
they are able and dangerous. We must be on our watch against them."

"What friends?" asked the Spaniard incredulously.

"There is a group. They are five. Where one of them is, the other four are
not likely to be far away. There is Cotter's comrade, Henry Ware, a little
older, and larger and stronger, wonderful in the woods! He surpasses the
Indians themselves in cunning and craft. Then comes Sol Hyde, whom they
call the shiftless one, but swift and cunning, and much to be dreaded.
Look out for him when he is pretending to be most harmless. And then Tom
Ross, who has been, a hunter and guide all his life, and the one they call
Long Jim, the swiftest runner in the wilderness. Oh, I know them all!"

"Perhaps you have had cause to know them well," said the Spaniard in a
sardonic tone--he was a keen reader of character, and he understood
Braxton Wyatt.

But Braxton Wyatt ignored the taunt in his anxiety.

"They must not be taken too lightly," he said. "They are somewhere in
these woods, and, Captain, I warn you once more against them."

The Spaniard smiled in his superior way, and, turning to his men, began to