ttering out of
the darkness like _ignes fatui_. They were ten in number;
desperate-looking men, who appeared neither bowed down by the sufferings
they had already endured, nor concerned about their future fate. Some were
of gigantic frame, and the form and materials of the rags which clothed
them betokened Indians from the Baxio. With indomitable resolution and
defiance depicted on their countenances, and an expression of desperate
cunning in their widely parted eyes, they approached the bar.

"Accused of causing disturbances, and exciting the Leperos to rebellion,"
said the escribano. "One, also, of having torn down the proclamation
issued by the Audiencia."

"Which is he?" enquired the alcalde.

"That one," replied a voice, and the Zambo called Cassio Isidro stepped
forward, and pointed to the old Indian whose acquaintance we have already
made under the name of Tatli Ixtla.

"So the Gachupins are the _piques_ that have laid their eggs in the flesh
of Mexico?" asked the judge, reading from the police-spy's report, which
he held in his hand.

"Ixtla did not say that," replied the old Indian. "This dog of a negro
said that."

"You lie," screamed the Zambo furiously.

"And the Gachupins, who are the sons of Jago, have despoiled the sons of
Esau, that is to say, the _gente irracionale_, of their birthright?"
continued the alcalde.

The Indian made no answer. The judge was silent for a moment, and then
uttered the word "Verdugo."

A man of lofty stature and great strength, with a bushy beard of an
iron-grey colour, and in a dress consisting entirely of white and blue
patchwork,[20] stepped forward, and gazed for a moment expectantly at the
alcalde. On a nod from the latter, he cast a noose round the Indian's
neck, and dragged him away, as the hunter does the buffalo he has caught
in his lasso.

"Nos. 13 to 21," cried the alcalde. "Accused of gritos, and of stirring up
the Leperos, and being in correspondence with the Gavecillas. They are
from Zitacuaco and Guanaxato, and therefore rebels."

"The nine Indians, who were of various ages, were now standing in a row at
the bar. The alcalde addressed them.

"What if you were to say, just once, and for the joke's sake, 'Death to
the traitor Vicente Guerero!'"

The prisoners gazed at their interlocutor with a fixed and stolid look.

"Are ye all tongue-tied?" resumed the judge. "We will put it in another
shape. Cry '_Muera el traidor Morellos!_' Perhaps that will s