They spent some anxious minutes in
waiting, but the sentinel returned in a few minutes with word that they
would be received.
"That is good," said Mr. Pollock to the five. "It is well to strike before
the blow of Alvarez sinks in too deeply."
They entered an ante-chamber furnished with a splendor that the
Kentuckians had never seen before. There were pictures and the arms of
Spain upon the walls, and rich heavy rugs upon the floor. The sentinel
said something in Spanish to Mr. Pollock and the merchant laughed.
"He makes the polite request," said Mr. Pollock, "that you leave your
rifles here. Ah, you see that the fame of the Kentucky rifle has already
reached New Orleans. They will be perfectly safe, I assure you."
The five leaned their rifles in a row against the wall, long,
slender-barreled weapons, which were destined to make one day an
unparalleled record before this very city of New Orleans.
A wide door was thrown open and an attendant dressed in gorgeous Spanish
livery announced their names as they entered a large room furnished with
as great a degree of state as could be reproduced at that time in New
Orleans. An armed soldier stood on either side of the door, and, at the
far end of the room, sitting in a great chair on a slightly raised
platform, was a handsome, youngish man in the uniform of a Spanish
colonel.
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