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.