Two men are mounted upon asses, and tied upon the backs of the animals. These men are stripped--so that their own backs are perfectly bare, and exposed to the gaze of the silent spectators! Though these men no longer wear their flowing robes, it is easy to distinguish them. Their close-cut hair and shaven crowns show who they are--the padres of the mission! Deep cuts the cuarto into their naked skin, loudly do they groan, and fearfully writhe. Earnestly do they beg and pray their persecutors to stay the terrible lash. Their entreaties are unheeded. Two white men, standing near, overlook the execution. These are Carlos the cibolero and Don Juan the ranchero. The priests would move them to pity, but in vain. The hearts of those two men have been turned to stone. "Remember my mother--my sister!" mutters Carlos. "Yes, false priests--remember!" adds Don Juan. And again is plied the cutting lash, until each corner of the Plaza has witnessed a repetition of the punishment! Then the asses are led up in front of the parroquia--now roofless and black; their heads are fastened together, so that the backs of their riders are turned toward the spectators. A line of warriors forms at a distance off--their bows are bent, and at a signal a flight of arrows goes whistling through the air. The suffering of the padres is at an end. Both have ceased to exist. I have arrived at the last act of this terrible drama; but words cannot describe it. In horror it eclipses all the rest. The scene is La Nina--the top of the cliff--the same spot where Carlos had performed his splendid feat on the day of San Juan. Another feat of horsemanship is now to be exhibited. How different the actors--how different the spectators! Upon the tongue that juts out two men are seated upon horseback. They are not free riders, for it may be noticed that they are tied upon their seats. Their hands do not grasp a bridle, but are bound behind their backs; and their feet, drawn together under the bellies of their horses, are there spliced with raw-hide ropes. To prevent turning in the saddle, other thongs, extending from strong leathern waist-belts, stay them to croup and pommel, and hold their bodies firm. Under such a ligature no horse could dismount either without also flinging the saddle, and that is guarded against by the strongest girthing. It is not intended that these horsemen shall lose their seats until they have performed an extraordinary feat. It is no voluntary act. Their countenances plainly tell that. Upon the features of both are written the most terrible emotions--craven cowardice in all its misery--despair in its darkest shadows! Both are men of nearly middle age--both are officers in full uniform. But it needs not that to recognise them as the deadly enemies of Carlos--Vizcarra and Roblado. No longer now his enemies. They are his captives!