"You are still resolved upon the death of the prisoners?"
"Still resolved! Carramba! An idle question, after what has occurred!
They die within the hour. We shall try, condemn, and then have them
shot."
"I thought you had arranged it in a different way?"
"So I had. But circumstances alter cases. There's many a slip 'twixt
cup and lip, and I've just heard of one. The Horned Lizard has failed
me."
"How so, colonel?"
"You see that Indian outside. He's one of my muleteers I'd sent as a
messenger to the Tenawa town. He returns to tell me there's no Horned
Lizard in existence, and only a remnant of his tribe. Himself, with the
best of his braves, has gone to the happy hunting grounds; not
voluntarily, but sent thither by a party of Tejanos who fell foul of
them on a foray."
"That's a strange tale," rejoins Roblez, adding, "And Barbato?"
"Dead, too--gone with his red-skinned associates."
"Certainly a singular occurrence--quite a coincidence."
"A coincidence that leaves me in an awkward predicament, without my
expected executioners. Well, we must supply their places by
substituting our own cut-throats."
"You'll find them willing, colonel. The little interlude of Miranda
getting loose, and making to run you through, has been all in your
favour. It affords sufficient pretext for court-martialling and
condemning both prisoners to be shot I've heard the men say so, and they
expect it."
"They shall not be disappointed, nor have long to wait. The court has
finished its sitting, and given its verdict. Without dissenting voice,
the prisoners are condemned to death. So much for the sentence. Now to
carry it into execution."
"How is the thing to be done?"
"Call in the sergeant. With him I shall arrange that. And when you're
out, go among the men and say a word to prepare them for the measure.
You may tell them we've been trying the prisoners, and the result
arrived at."
The adjutant steps out of the tent; and while Uraga is swallowing
another cup of Catalan to fortify him for his fearful purpose, the
sergeant enters.
"_Sergente_! there's some business to be done of a delicate nature, and
you must take direction of it."
The Serjeant salutes, and stands awaiting the explanation. The colonel
continues:--
"We intend taking our prisoners no farther--the men, I mean. With the
women we have nothing to do--as prisoners. After what you saw, we deem
it necessary that Don Valerian Miranda should die; and also the other,
who is equally incriminated as a traitor to the State--a rebel, an old
conspirator, well known. Lieutenant Roblez and I have held a court, and
decreed their death. So order the men to load their carbines, and make
ready to carry out the sentence."
The sergeant simply nods assent, and, again saluting, is about to
retire, when Uraga stays him with a second speech.
"Let all take part in the firing except Galvez. Post him as sentry over
the square tent. Direct him to stand by its entrance and see that the
flap is kept down. Under no circumstances is he to let either of its
occupants out. It's not a spectacle for women--above all, one of them.
Never mind; we can't help that I'm sorry myself, but duty demands this
rigorous measure. Now go. First give Galvez his orders; then to the
men and get them ready. Make no more noise than is necessary. Let your
lancers be drawn up in line; afoot, of course, and single file."
"Where am I to place the prisoners, colonel?"
"Ah! true; I did not think of that."
Uraga steps to the entrance of the tent, and, looking forth, takes a
survey of the camp-ground. His eyes seek the spot occupied by the
prisoners. They are both again together, under the same tree where
first placed, a sentry keeping guard over them. The tree is a
cottonwood, with smooth stem and large limbs extending horizontally.
Another is near, so similar as to seem a twin; both being a little out
from the thick timber, which forms a dark background behind them.
After regarding them a moment, scanning them as a lumberman would a log
intended for a saw-mill, Uraga directs.
"Raise the prisoners upright, and tie one to each of those two trees.
Set their backs to the trunk. They've both been army men, and we won't
disgrace the cloth by shooting them from behind. That's grace enough
for rebels."
The sergeant, saluting, is again about to go, only staying to catch some
final words of direction. They are--
"In ten minutes I shall expect you to have everything ready. When
you've got the stage set I shall myself appear upon it as an actor--the
Star of this pretty play!"
And with a hoarse laugh at his horrid jest, the ruffian retires within
his tent.