# War Drums (Sass)/Chapter 32

SITTING on a rock in the moonlight, his head between his hands, Lachlan listened while Almayne talked.
"I learned it by accident," the hunter said. "At first Aganuntsi talked of our hunts in the old days. Then, after a while, he told me that he had returned not long ago from a mission to the Appalaches. He went there to arrange with them to join in this war against the Carolina English, and a hundred Appalaches came back with him, commanded by a Spanish officer.
"Aganuntsi said that he had spent many days in Chief Concha's town. He said that Concha has a new War Captain, an Englishman whom he took prisoner. The Spaniards at St. Augustine learned of this somehow and they ordered Concha to watch the Englishman closely but not to harm him. Aganuntsi said that Concha has a daughter, the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. You know how handsome these Appalache and Siminole women sometimes are, tall and slender and light-skinned and quick-minded and talkative.
"Well, this girl fell in love with the Englishman. At first Aganuntsi could not remember the English​man's name, but he remembered it later—Gilbert Barradell."
Almayne paused. Lachlan, his head still supported in his hands, said nothing.
"He married the girl some six weeks ago," the hunter continued, his voice harsher than ever. "It was a real marriage performed by a Spanish priest. He is mad, about her, Aganuntsi says, and she is devoted to him. Concha has made him War Chief, and he and his wife spend part of their time in St. Augustine, where they are made much of by the Spaniards."
Almayne tugged at his moustache and glared at the top of Lachlan's bowed head.
"For God's sake, don't sit there like a stone!" he exclaimed. "What are we to do now? What are we to tell Jolie?"
Lachlan got to his feet slowly, a little unsteadily. He was dazed, his thoughts were a whirling chaos. Almayne seized his arm in a grip of iron and shook it.
"Pull yourself together, man," he said fiercely. "We must think this thing out here—now!"
They talked until late into the night. For a time they were like men struggling to set their thoughts in order again after the impact of some stunning physical shock. An inconceivable thing had happened. It had burst upon them without the slightest warning. At first they could not grapple with it.
Like drowning men clutching at straws, they clutched at the possibility of error, at the possibility that Aganuntsi had manufactured the story for some ​obscure purpose of his own. But these straws sank under them.
This thing that had happened, Lachlan knew, was a thing that had happened often before. The spell of the wilderness was strong. It made many a man forget the world that he had known, renounce that world forever. The Southern Indians had advanced much farther along the road towards civilization than the ruder savages of the North and West. Their women, especially those of the ruling families or clans, were often beautiful, often highly intelligent, quick of wit and of speech. Many a white man of good birth, already captivated by the lure of the wilderness, had found in some dark-eyed Indian beauty the final and decisive reason for making the New World his home. Often these marriages failed, but sometimes—and Lachlan found double proof of it in his own ancestry—they endured.
No, this incredible thing that had burst upon him like a thunderclap was not incredible. On the contrary, it had happened before and would happen again. But that it should have happened to Jolie Stanwicke, that she should be numbered among those unhappy ones who had been cast aside by wandering lovers to whom the wilderness had called in tones that would not be denied—this was the fact which at first appeared too monstrous to be real.
He knew that he loved Jolie Stanwicke. The love that had been kindled in him had mounted and flamed during those long days on the wilderness trails ​and on Sani'gilagi's summit. Yet now that leve was submerged in pity; for he saw her stricken, blighted, her gallant spirit crushed, the light gone frem her eyes.
Within tight lips that did not move he cursed the man who had done this thing—this Gilbert Barradell, whom he had never seen but had always hated because Jolie Stanwicke loved him.
Suddenly a light broke upon Lachlan and brought confirmation, if confirmation were needed, of the thing that Aganuntsi had told. His mind leaped back to that first night in Lance Falcon's cabin, when he had played the part of Don Ruy Ortiz of St. Augustine. Every incident of that night was etched upon his memory. He could recall the very words ef that puzzling, unexpected question which Falcon had asked so eagerly: "And what of the affair of Chief Concha's daughter?"
So Falcon had known even then! He had known of the existence of this Indian girl, had known that there was something between her and Gilbert Barradell.
In a flash a new fact dawned upon Lachlan.
Jolie Stanwicke had distrusted Gilbert Barradell! She had been afraid of this thing that had now happened!
It was as plain now as the noonday sun. Lachlan knew now why Jolie had attached so much importance to Falcon's question about the affair of Cencha's daughter. He knew now why Jolie had questioned ​him so eagerly about this Indian girl, why she had sought to learn from him whether the girl was beautiful. Yes, she had been afraid of this girl, this daughter of Chief Concha's, from the moment when she had learned of the girl's existence. Loving Barradell, yet she had doubted him, had lacked faith in his constancy.
Lachlan could not tell Almayne where these thoughts carried him. Indeed, he himself did not know. He was aware only of a sudden new sense of freedom, as though a weight had been struck from around his neck.
He could not explain this feeling, did not try to explain it. Instead, he turned to the question of what their course should be. Should they tell Jolie at once or should they wait? It was instinct, perhaps, that determined him upon the latter course; and Almayne, pointing out that weeks might pass before they could leave their refuge on the mountain, could see no reason for haste in imparting to Jolie what they had learned.
This settled, they walked slowly back toward the camp and saw Mr. O'Sullivan sitting on watch, his white head gleaming in the bright moonlight. The same thought came to them both. Almayne uttered a low whistle and beckoned O'Sullivan. He came to them quickly and Lachlan told him of the news that Aganuntsi had brought.
For some moments the little man stood silent before them, his head bowed. Then he lifted his face to ​Lachlan, and they saw that tears were in his eyes, and yet he was smiling and there was a great content in his face. It was not his habit to talk in riddles, but this time his words left them puzzled.
"I am glad," he said slowly in his bird-like voice. "I have been afraid that she would not discover herself in time. That danger is past now."
When Lachlan stared at him blankly and Almayne swore under his breath, O'Sullivan laughed happily.
"You think I am daft," he told them. "You will see that I am wiser than you two simpletons put together."
For Lachlan there could be no sleep that night. Presently, while O'Sullivan and Almayne still stood talking, he wandered alone down the steep, narrow trail which led to the spring and the little meadow where the horses grazed. His thoughts were still awhirl. He did not realize that as he passed the spot where O'Sullivan had been sitting on watch, he picked up the Irishman's rapier which had been leaning against a rock. Yet, as always when he walked through the woods, he moved with the noiselessness of an Indian hunter, and as always his senses were alert.
Suddenly a faint sound halted him. It might have been one of the horses in the meadow below, but he did not believe that this sound had been made by a horse. More cautiously than ever he moved forward ​down the steep trail until the meadow opened before him.
There in the bright moonlight he saw Lance Falcon standing beside the big roan that he had ridden on the flight to the mountain—the roan that had once been Jock Pearson's.
There was no saddle on the roan, but he was bridled, and Falcon was about to vault upon his back. Lachlan stepped out into the open and strode towards the spot.
Falcon saw him instantly, and the hand which had held the bridle-rein leaped to the hilt of his sword. Momentarily a black frown convulsed his face; yet he was smiling as he greeted the younger man.
"Ah, Mr. McDonald," he said coolly, "you have come to bid me farewell?"
Lachlan had halted ten paces away.
"Where are you going, Captain Falcon?" he asked sternly.
For a moment Falcon seemed to hesitate. Then he nodded, as though he had reached a decision.
"A blunt question," he said briskly, "and I shall give it a blunt answer. I am grown aweary of your mountain, Mr. McDonald, and more than a little weary of the rôle of prisoner. I have been, as you are aware, a confidant of the Governor of St. Augustine and I happen to know something of the Spanish plans to help the Cherokees take Fort Prince George. If those plans were carried out, there are Spanish ​Indians and a Spanish officer among the Cherokees of this wilderness, and it is in my mind to go to them now and tell them certain things."
"Traitor!" Lachlan flung at him fiercely. "You would betray us! Your pledged word——"
Falcon spat out a contemptuous oath. He moved a step nearer, and Lachlan, watching him keenly, saw the gleam of his white teeth in the moonlight.
"I have played the honourable fool long enough, Mr. McDonald," he exclaimed harshly. "You may consider my pledged word broken if you choose. Spain and the Cherokees are allies in this war—though the Charles Town English know it not—and I have only to ride down this mountain to find myself among friends. Why I have waited so long I hardly know."
He paused and stroked his chin.
"It was a losing game that I was playing on the mountain," he continued calmly. "I think that already Gilbert Barradell is a shadow and Lachlan McDonald has taken his place. But the game is not yet over. I shall come back to Sani'gilagi within a few hours at most, and I shall bring with me my friends from down yonder, and it may be that the lady, having changed her mind once, will change it a second time, seeing that she will have no choice when she rides into St. Augustine as Lance Falcon's prize."
He spoke quietly, casually, as a man might speak to his neighbour about the weather.
"We have a score to settle, Mr. McDonald, and ​the time to settle it has come. Fortunately you have a sword in your hand and the moonlight is well nigh as bright as day. They cannot hear us on the mountain top. On guard, sir! I am going to give myself the pleasure of killing you before I go."
In an instant his rapier was out. In another instant the moonlight glittered on the crossed blades.