The speaker raised the corner of a _serape_ that was spread upon one of the tables standing near, and pointed to some objects lying underneath. Don Cornelio saw they were human heads. There were three of them. "Now, my good friend," continued the Colonel of Colonels, "there you see the head of our old comrade, Lieutenant Lantejas, which we have brought away from where it was nailed over the gate of the hacienda Del Valle. Conceive, then, what a lucky thing for us! What a splendid _revanche_ we shall have when, in place of the head of the insurgent Lantejas, we shall nail up that of Lantejas the royalist spy!" "But it is a mistake," cried Don Cornelio, rubbing the cold sweat from his forehead. "I am not a royalist nor a spy neither. I have the honour to serve the cause of the Independence--" "Bah! everybody says the same. Besides, without any proofs--" "But I have proofs. They are in the pocket of my cloak, of which I have been robbed." "Who took your cloak?" inquired the Colonel of Colonels. "Gaspacho," replied Don Cornelio, who had incidentally learnt the name of the brigand who had despoiled him. "Ah! that is a terrible misfortune. Gaspacho has just received orders to go in all haste to Las Cruces. He is off by this time, and will not likely be back in less than ten days. You, by that time will have lost your head, and I my cloak and Vicuna hat. Both of them, I know, would have fitted me, since you and I are both of a size. What a damnable misfortune for both of us!" A fearful cry interrupted the dialogue between Don Cornelio and the Colonel of Colonels. The cry came from the wretched sufferer, who fainted as soon as uttering it. Almost at the same instant the alcohol shot up its last flickering flame--as the spirit itself was consumed; and in the reddish light of the torches Don Cornelio could perceive the men flitting about like shadows, or rather like demons assisting in the horrible drama that was being enacted. CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT. THE COMMISSION EXECUTED. While the Captain Lantejas stood in the midst of an atmosphere that nearly stifled his breathing, he saw one of these shadowy forms step out from among the rest and advance towards him. As the man came nearer, he recognised the ferocious captain of the bandits, who, licking his blood-stained lips like a jaguar after leaving its prey, cried out in a hoarse voice, "Bring me that spy! I can examine him while the coyote is coming to himself." "Here he is," replied Bocardo, seizing Don Cornelio by the shoulder, and pushing him forward into the presence of his associate. "My good friend," muttered Bocardo, addressing himself to Don Cornelio, "it's your turn now. Of course the lash will make you confess that you are a spy, and of course your head will be taken off immediately after. I would, therefore, advise you not to waste time about it but acknowledge your guilt at once."