bubbling from
the lips of this white heathen. Take him, Sarceda, and hearken, let
him be your especial care. First let him suffer with the others, and
afterwards, should he prove obdurate, alone. The method I leave to you.
Should he confess, summon me.'

'Pardon me, general, but this is no task for an hidalgo of Spain. I have
been more wont to pierce my enemies with the sword than to tear them
with pincers,' said de Garcia, but as he spoke I saw a gleam of triumph
shine in his black eyes, and heard the ring of triumph through the mock
anger of his voice.

'I know it, comrade. But this must be done; though I hate it, it must be
done, there is no other way. The gold is necessary to me--by the
Mother of God! the knaves say that I have stolen it!--and I doubt these
stubborn Indian dogs will ever speak, however great their agony. This
man knows and I give him over to you because you are acquainted with his
wickedness, and that knowledge will steel your heart against all pity.
Spare not, comrade; remember that he must be forced to speak.'

'It is your command, Cortes, and I will obey it, though I love the task
little; with one proviso, however, that you give me your warrant in
writing.'

'It shall be made out at once,' answered the general. 'And now away with
him.'

'Where to?'

'To the prison that he has left. All is ready and there he will find his
comrades.'

Then a guard was summoned and I was dragged back to my own place, de
Garcia saying as I went that he would be with me presently.

CHAPTER XXIX

DE GARCIA SPEAKS HIS MIND

At first I was not taken into the chamber that I had left, but placed in
a little room opening out of it where the guard slept. Here I waited
a while, bound hand and foot and watched by two soldiers with drawn
swords. As I waited, torn by rage and fear, I heard the noise of
hammering through the wall, followed by a sound of groans. At length
the suspense came to an end; a door was opened, and two fierce Tlascalan
Indians came through it and seized me by the hair and ears, dragging me
thus into my own chamber.

'Poor devil!' I heard one of the Spanish soldiers say as I went.
'Apostate or no, I am sorry for him; this is bloody work.'

Then the door closed and I was in the place of torment. The room was
darkened, for a cloth had been hung in front of the window bars, but its
gloom was relieved by certain fires that burned in braziers. It was by
the light of these fires chiefly tha