arria held the documents in his hand which Fernandez had been about
to destroy, and waved them gently in his enemy's face as a king's
advocate might a written indictment in a speech of accusation.

"You betrayed me to the death, friend Luis, did you not? You revealed
my hiding-place. That is count the first!" he began.

And the wretched man, his lips dry and scarce obeying his will, strove
to give utterance to the words, "It was all my brother's doing. I swear
it was my brother!"

"Bah," said El Sarria, "do not trouble to lie, Luis, being so near the
Other Bar where all must speak truth. You knew. You were the trusted
friend. Your brother was not, and even if you were not upon the spot, as
I thought, the blood-hounds were set on the trail by you and by no
other."

Fernandez made no reply, but sank his head deeper between his hands as
if to shut out his judge and probable executioner from his sight.

"Pass, then," said the outlaw, "there is so much else that it matters
not whether you were at the Devil's Canyon or no. At any rate, you
decoyed my wife here, by a letter purporting to be written to Dolores
Garcia by her husband----"

"Concha Cabezos lies. She was a liar from the beginning. That also was
my brother. I swear to you!" cried the wretched man, in so pitiful an
accent that for the first time Rollo felt a little sorry for him.

But there was no gleam of pity in the eyes of Ramon. Instead, he lifted
a pistol and toyed with it a moment thoughtfully.

"Luis," he said, "your brother has his own sins to answer for. Beneath
the fig-tree in the corner an hour or two ago, his sins ran him to
earth. Whether at this moment he is alive or dead I know not--neither
care. But you cannot saddle him, in the flesh or out of it, with your
peccadilloes. Be a man, Luis. You used not to be a coward as well as a
thief and a murderer."

But neither insults nor appeals could alter the fixed cloud of doom that
overspread the face of Don Luis. He did not again interrupt, but heard
the recital of El Sarria in silence, without contradiction and
apparently without hope.

"You brought my wife here by this forged letter while you knew I was
alive and while you were plotting your best to kill me. You procured my
outlawry, and the confiscation of my property--which I doubt not you and
the worthy Alcalde de Flores shared between you. You have kept my wife
drugged by that hell-cat these many days, lest she should find out your
deceit. Y