able mask the
tumultuous feeling resulting from his now satisfied vengeance. He, as
well as his two companions, remained silent.

Cuchillo alone--whose sanguinary and vindictive nature would have led
him to accept gratuitously the odious office of executor--could scarcely
conceal his delight at the thoughts of the enormous sum he was to
receive for the wicked service.

But in this case, for once in his life, Cuchillo was to assist in an
apparently legal proceeding.

"Carramba!" he ejaculated, taking Pepe's carbine from him, and at the
same time making a sign to Don Antonio; "this is an affair for which
even the judge of Arispe himself would be sorry to grant me absolution."

He advanced towards Don Antonio.

Pale, but with flashing eyes; uncertain whether in Cuchillo he beheld a
saviour or an executioner, Don Estevan did not stir.

"It was foretold that I should die in a desert; I am, what you are
pleased to call, convicted and condemned. God has reserved forme the
infinite disgrace of dying by the hand of this man. I forgive you,
Fabian; but may not this bandit prove as fatal to your life, as he will
be to that of your father's brother, as he was--"

A cry from Cuchillo--a cry of alarm, here interrupted the Duke de
Armada.

"To arms! To arms! yonder come the Indians!" cried he.

Fabian, Bois-Rose, and Pepe rushed to seize their rifles.

Cuchillo took advantage of this short instant, and sprang towards Don
Antonio. The latter with his neck stretched forward, was also examining
the wide extent of the plain, when Cuchillo twice plunged the poignard
into his throat.

The unfortunate Mediana fell to the ground, vomiting forth torrents of
blood.

A smile relaxed Cuchillo's lips: Don Antonio had carried out of the
world the secret which he dreaded.

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

THE JUDGMENT OF GOD.

An instant of stupor succeeded to the murder so suddenly accomplished.
Don Antonio did not stir; Fabian seemed to forget that the bandit had
only hastened the execution of the sentence which he himself had
pronounced.

"Wretch!" cried he, rushing towards Cuchillo, with the barrel of his
carbine in his hand, as though he did not deign to raise its butt
against the executioner.

"There, there!" said Cuchillo, drawing back, whilst Pepe, more ready to
acquit Don Antonio's murderer, interposed between them; "you are as
quick and passionate as a fighting-cock, and ready every instant to
sport your horns, like a y