The pole was being lowered slowly. Tarsilo rubbed against the projecting stones and the dirty plants which grew in the crevices. Then, the pole ceased to move. The alferez was counting the seconds. "Up!" he ordered dryly, at the end of a half minute. The silvery harmony of the drops of water falling back into the well, announced the return of the unfortunate man to the light. As the weight on the end of the lever was heavy, he came up quickly. The rough pieces of stone and pebbles, torn loose from the walls, fell with splashes to the bottom. His face and hair full of filthy mud, his body wet and dripping, he appeared again in the sight of the silent crowd. The wind made him shiver with cold. "Do you want to make a declaration?" they asked him. "Take care of my sister!" the unhappy one murmured, looking at the cuaderillero, with supplication. The bamboo pole creaked again, and again the condemned man disappeared. Doña Consolacion observed that the water remained still. The alferez counted a minute. When Tarsilo came up again, his face was livid and his features contracted. He glanced at those standing around and kept open his bloodshot eyes. "Will you make a declaration?" asked the alferez again, with vexation. Tarsilo shook his head and again they let him down. His eyelids were almost closed and his eyes were gazing at the white clouds floating in the heavens. He bent his neck to keep sight of the light of day, but he was soon submerged in the water. That filthy curtain closed from him the sight of the world. A minute passed. The Muse saw large bubbles of air come up to the surface of the water. "He is thirsty," said she, laughing. The water was again smooth. This time a minute and a half had passed when the alferez gave the signal. Tarsilo's features were no longer contracted. The half opened lids showed the white of his eyes. Muddy water, clotted with blood, ran out of his mouth. The cool wind was blowing, but his body no longer shivered. Those present, pale and terrified, looked at each other in silence. The alferez made a signal for them to take him down from where he was hanging, and stepped aside for a few moments. Doña Consolacion a number of times applied the lighted end of her cigar to the bare legs of Tarsilo, but his body did not quiver. It put out the light. "He has asphyxiated himself," murmured a cuaderillero. "See how his tongue is turned, as if he wanted to swallow it." The other prisoner, trembling and perspiring, contemplated the scene. Like a madman he looked about him. The alferez ordered the directorcillo to question him. "Señor, Señor," he groaned. "I will tell you all that you wish." "Good. Let us see! What is your name?" "Andong, Señor!" "Bernardo ... Leonardo ... Ricardo ... Educardo. Gerardo ... or what?" "Andong, Señor," repeated the imbecile. "Call it Bernardo or whatever you please," said the alferez, decided not to bother more about it. "What family name?"