"No more do I," rejoined Costal, "but as I have promised Pepe Gago that he should not forget the lantern on the bridge of Los Hornos, and as I am determined he shall have a sight of it now and then, to keep his memory awake, I don't see why I should leave it here to be picked off by the first comer. At all events, it is no longer needed as a signal." Saying this, the Indian took down the lantern from the post, and blew out the light. "Here, Clara," he continued, "help me to make a hole. I intend hiding it--so that I can get it again, whenever I may want it." The two men kneeling down, and using the blades of their knives, soon carved out a hollow place, in which Costal deposited the lamp still containing the resin candle. "Now, friend Clara," said the Indian, as soon as they had covered it in, "sit down here, and let us try if we can't think of some way to capture this castle, as well as the _picaro_ who is within it." "Willingly, I will," answered the black; and seating themselves side by side, the two associates commenced with all due gravity their important deliberation. CHAPTER THIRTY THREE. THE ISLE OF ROQUETA. While thus on the summit of the _Voladero de los Hornos_ the Indian Costal and the negro Clara were debating between themselves how the castle might be captured--the same subject was being discussed by two persons of more importance in the tent of the insurgent general. These were Morelos himself, and Don Hermenegildo Galeana--now usually styled the "Marshal," to distinguish him from another Galeana, his own nephew, who was also an officer in the insurgent army. The countenance of Morelos had not yet cast off the shadow caused by the failure of their assault upon the castle; and his garments were still soiled with dust, which, under the agitation of violent passions, he disdained to wipe off. The brow of the Marshal was also clouded; but that was rather by reflecting the unpleasant thoughts that were troubling the spirit of his well-beloved General: for no care of his own ever darkened the countenance of the warlike Galeana. A chart of the bay and roadstead of Acapulco lay upon the table before them, illuminated by two candles, whose light was every moment becoming paler, as the day began to break into the tent.