time this conciliatory measure, it was threatened
that they should all be put to the sword, and the town reduced to
ashes. Discontent and insubordination now prevailed amongst the rebels.
The sense of their danger--the formidable array of the enemy--and above
all, the unpopularity of their chief, Caneri, conspired to render a
great portion of the troops willing to accede to the proposals of the
Alcayde.

Soon a numerous and powerful cabal was formed, and the malcontents,
deciding that their cause was desperate, agreed to surrender. In a large
body they proceeded to the palace, and insolently demanded that the
gates of the town should be opened to the Christians. Caneri, and some
of his adherents, aware that they were made an exception to the amnesty,
were naturally anxious to defend the city, as the only means of averting
their fate.

Caneri, no longer an unruly despot, now crouched to the danger like an
abject slave, and in a piteous tone began to expostulate with the
mutineers. It was a striking contrast to see the man, who lately was the
terror of all, converted into so gentle an animal as to astonish even
the Moors when they contemplated the cowardly being who had held them
so long in dread. They were not moved by his entreaties; for the
supplications of a despot, instead of awakening sympathy, serve only to
augment the rage of mankind, by placing in a more striking light his
pusillanimity and unworthiness, and the shame of having suffered so
despicable a thing to tyrannize over and oppress them.

The uproar and insubordination increased as the term allowed by the
Alcayde to effect a surrender was drawing near. All obedience was now
disregarded, and a party of the most turbulent resolved to put their
chief to death, and, by this means, propitiate the favor of their
enemies. Accordingly, with wild exclamations and terrific yells, they
surrounded the mansion of Caneri, and insolently summoned the few Moors
who still adhered to him to give up the despot, or that they would
immediately commit the palace to the flames. Caneri, pale, haggard, and
trembling, stood like a convicted culprit in the scene of his former
brief authority, bewildered with fear, and without knowing what course
to pursue. To escape was utterly impossible, the palace being surrounded
by the infuriate Moors, and the town beleaguered by the Spaniards. In
this emergency he cast an imploring look on his followers, and saw with
despair the limited num