ruments of human justice in this desert, command you to be his
executioner. The treasures contained in this valley will remunerate you
for undertaking this terrible duty. May you never commit a more
iniquitous act!"

"One cannot live through forty years without having a few little
peccadilloes on one's conscience, Don Tiburcio. However, I shall not
the less object to being an executioner; and I am proud to know that my
talents are estimated at their real value. You promise, then, that all
the gold of this valley shall be mine?"

"All--without excepting the smallest particle."

"Carramba! notwithstanding my well-known scruples, it is a good price,
therefore I shall not hesitate; and if at the same time there is any
other little favour you require of me, do not distress yourself--it
shall be done cheaply."

That which has been previously said explains Cuchillo's unexpected
appearance.

The outlaw, concealed upon the borders of the neighbouring lake, had
escaped through the prologue which preceded the fearful drama in which
he was about to perform a part. Taking all things into consideration,
he saw that matters were turning out better than he had expected.

However he could not disguise from himself the fact that there was a
certain amount of danger in his becoming the executioner of a man who
was aware of all his crimes, and who could, by a single word, surrender
him him to the implacable justice enforced in these solitudes.

He was aware that to gain the promised recompense, and to prevent Don
Antonio from speaking, it would be necessary first to deceive him, and
he found means to whisper in the ear of the prisoner--

"Fear nothing--I am on your side."

The spectators of this terrible scene maintained a profound silence,
under a feeling of awe experienced by each of them.

A deep dejection of spirit had, in Don Fabian's case, succeeded the
energetic exercise of his will, and his face, bowed towards the earth,
was as pale and as livid as that of the man upon whom he had pronounced
sentence of death.

Bois-Rose--whom the frequent dangers which belonged to the life of a
sailor and a hunter, had rendered callous to the physical horror with
which one man looks upon the destruction of his fellow--appeared
completely absorbed in the contemplations of this young man, whom he
loved as a son, and whose dejected attitude showed the depth of his
grief.

Pepe, on his side, endeavoured to conceal under an impenetr