The man spoke gently and with some emotion; it was evident that his dreadful life had not yet obliterated every remnant of civilisation and humanity. There was, moreover, something terribly impressive in his words, when heard amid the hoarse rush of that deep and subterranean torrent, whose waters came we knew not from where, and traversed depths and caverns, of which we could have no conception, in their way to the valley below. There was a refined cruelty in bringing us to such a place, and to die such a death; for the mind "shrunk back upon itself and trembled," when contemplating the dark profundity through which this mysterious torrent poured. "Pray, good señores, pray," said this man, kindly again, as he touched me on the shoulder, "down upon your knees, for here comes the capitano, and he never tarries with his prisoners on the brink of the Rio de Muerte, or the Cima de Cabra." "What does the fellow say?" asked poor Slingsby, who looked a little pale, and whose nether lip was tightly clenched. "He bids us lose no time, but to pray." "Pray!" reiterated Jack, fiercely; "I pray to Heaven only that my hands were loose for one moment, that I might strike a blow for life or for revenge." "Threats are absurd, señor," said Fabrique de Urquija, throwing the end of his cigar with perfect deliberation into the chasm that yawned before us: "and bribes are alike useless----" "Can it be, brave Spaniards," said I, becoming desperate, and encouraged by the evident sympathy of one to endeavour to soften the rest; "can it be that you will prove so cruel and so merciless to two unoffending strangers, who----" "Silence, señores!" exclaimed Fabrique, in a voice of thunder, while drawing a pistol from his belt; "in attempting to tamper with my followers you but anticipate your fate. Iago Pineda--Stephano el Corcovado, over with them! dost thou hear me? presto! or by the mother of God, this bullet shall see the brains of some of you." He ground his teeth; his eyes shot fire, and his broad nostrils seemed to dilate as he gave this savage order. Stephano the humpbacked, and the other who was named Iago Pineda, and who was no other than our sympathetic friend, threw down their escopetas and grasped me. They were powerful and muscular men--aye, men of iron frames and iron hearts, and a sickening emotion rose within me as their hands were roughly laid upon my pinioned arms. The moonlit mountains and the far-stretching Vega swam around me; the forms of our murderers were multiplied a thousandfold; the perspiration fell heavily from my brow, and a half-arrested cry to Heaven for that pity which men denied us here, arose to my lips as they were about to hurl me downward; when, lo! Pineda paused, looked back, and listening, relinquished my right arm. "Do you think, do you dare to disobey?" cried Fabrique, as he levelled a brass-barrelled pistol full at his head; "to work at once, vile mutineer, or por vida del demonic----"