Not so Santander, who, although he had taken his sword out of its scabbard, made no attempt to use it, but sat shivering in his saddle, as if the weapon was about to drop from his hand. On the instant after a blade more firmly held, and better wielded, flashed before his eyes; he who held it, as he sprung his horse up, crying out: "Carlos Santander! your hour has come! Scoundrel! _This time_ I intend killing you." Even the insulting threat stung him not to resistance. Never shone moonlight on more of a poltroon, the glitter and grandeur of his warlike dress in striking contrast with his cowardly mien. "Miserable wretch!" cried Kearney--for it was he who confronted him--"I don't want to kill you in cold blood Heaven forbid my doing murder. Defend yourself." "He defend hisself!" scornfully exclaimed a voice--that of Cris Rock. "He dassen't as much as do that. He hasn't the steel shirt on now." Yet another voice at this moment made itself heard, as a figure, feminine, became added to the group. Luisa Valverde it was, who, rushing out of the carriage and across the courtyard, cried out-- "Spare his life, Don Florencio. He's not worthy of your sword." "You're right thar, young lady," endorsed the Texan, answering for Kearney. "That he ain't--an' bare worth the bit o' lead that's inside o' this ole pistol. For all, I'll make him a present o' 't--thar, dang ye." The last words were accompanied by a flash and a crack, causing Santander's horse to shy and rear up. When the fore hoofs of the animal returned to the flags, they but missed coming down upon the body of its rider, now lying lifeless along them. "That's gin him his quieetus, I reckin," observed Rock, as he glanced down at the dead man, whose face upturned had the full moonlight upon it, showing handsome features, that withal were forbidding in life, but now more so in the ghastly pallor of death. No one stayed to gaze upon them, least of all the Texan, who had yet another life to take, as he deemed in the strict execution of duty and satisfaction of justice. For it too was forfeit by the basest betrayal. The soldiers were out of their saddles now, prisoners all; having surrendered without striking a blow. But crouching away in a shadowy corner was that thing of deformity, who, from his diminutive size, might well have escaped observation. He did not, however. The Texan had his eyes on him all the while, having caught a glimpse of him as they were riding in at the gate. And in those eyes now gleamed a light of a vengeance not to be allayed save by a life sacrificed. If Santander on seeing Kearney believed his hour was come, so did the dwarf as he saw Cris Rock striding towards him. Caught by the collar, and dragged out into the light, he knew death was near now.