In a few seconds they reached the line of the Mexican sentries, who, already warned of their approach by the Indians, permitted them to enter the town without opposition. On entering the Piazza they encountered Trujano himself; who, with his sword girded on, was making a round of the village before retiring to rest. While Don Cornelio was delivering to him the message of Morelos, the Colonel directed scrutinising glances both upon the Captain and his Indian companion. He had some vague recollection of having once before seen the two men, but he could not remember where. At the moment that Don Cornelio finished speaking, his recollection had become more clear upon the point, "Ah!" exclaimed he, "I was thinking where I had met you. Are you not the young student who had such confidence in the mandate of the Bishop of Oajaca, and who, at the hacienda of Las Palmas, denounced the insurrection as a deadly crime?" "The same," answered Lantejas, with a sigh. "And you," continued Trujano, addressing himself to Costal, "are you not the tiger-hunter of Don Mariano de Silva?" "The descendant of the caciques of Tehuantepec," answered Costal proudly. "God is great, and his ways are inscrutable," rejoined the ex-muleteer, with the inspired air of a prophet of Judah. After having more substantially repeated his message, Don Cornelio was conducted by the Colonel to his quarters, and shown the apartment in which he was to sleep. It only remained for him to seek the few hours' rest that would intervene before daybreak--the hour fixed for the decisive battle which was to take place. Wrapped in his cloak, he flung himself upon the wooden bench that served for a bed--vowing to himself as he fell asleep to attempt no heroic deeds on the following day, beyond those which were rigorously necessary for the defence of his own person. CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT. THE MORN OF THE BATTLE. Not until several hours after the arrival of Don Cornelio did the insurgent Colonel warn his troops of the coming event. Then they were instructed to be ready at the first dawn of day, for a sortie against the Royalist camp--which at the same instant of time was to be attacked by Morelos on the opposite side. While the shadows of night were still hanging above the beleaguered town, a singular noise was heard proceeding from the Piazza. It resembled the creaking of a watchman's rattle, or rather half-a-dozen of these instruments that had been sprung together. Such in reality it was: for since the church bells had been converted into cannon, the rattles of the _serenos_ had been substituted as a means by which to summon the inhabitants to prayers!