ur prisoners by court-martial, in what way are your words to be
made good? Surely you don't intend to have them shot without form of
trial?"

"I've said I won't imbrue my hands in their blood."

"True, you've said that more than once, but without making things any
clearer to me. You spoke of some plan. Perhaps I may now hear it?"

"You shall. But first fill me out another _capita_ of the Catalan.
That affair has made me thirsty as a sponge."

The adjutant, acting as Ganymede, pours out the liquor and hands the cup
to his colonel, which the latter quaffs off. Then, lighting a fresh
cigar, he proceeds with the promised explanation.

"I spoke of events, incidents, and coincidences--didn't I, _ayadante_?"

"You did, Colonel."

"Well, suppose I clump them altogether, and give you the story in a
simple narrative--a monologue? I know, friend Roblez, you're not a man
greatly given to speech; so it will save you the necessity of opening
your lips till I've got through."

Roblez, usually taciturn, nods assent.

"Before coming out here," continues the Colonel, "I'd taken some steps.
When you've heard what they are I fancy you'll give me credit for
strategy, or cunning, if you prefer so calling it. I told you I should
take no prisoners back, and that Don Valerian and the doctor are to die.
They will go to their graves without causing scandal to any of us. To
avoid it I've engaged an executioner, who will do the job without any
direct orders from me."

"Who?" asks the adjutant, forgetting his promise to be silent.

"Don't interrupt!"

The subordinate resumes silence.

"I think," continues Uraga, in a tone of serio-comicality, "you have
heard of a copper-coloured gentleman called `Horned Lizard.' If I
mistake not, you have the honour of his acquaintance. And, unless I'm
astray in my reckoning, you'll have the pleasure of seeing him here this
evening, or at an early hour to-morrow morning. He will make his
appearance in somewhat eccentric fashion. No doubt, he'll come into our
camp at a charging gallop, with some fifty or a hundred of his painted
warriors behind him. And I shouldn't wonder if they should spit some of
our gay lancers on the points of their spears. That will depend on
whether these _valientes_ be foolish enough to make resistance. I don't
think they will. More likely we shall see them gallop off at the first
whoop of the Indian assailants. You and I, Roblez, will have to do the
same; but