his identity--were in the pockets of the stolen
cloak!

"Ho!" exclaimed the Colonel of Colonels, in a joyful tone, "you call
yourself Lantejas, do you? I am delighted to hear it, and so will our
captain be. It is the luckiest circumstance in the world for us, and
for you, too, as you shall presently be convinced. Look here!"

The speaker raised the corner of a _serape_ that was spread upon one of
the tables standing near, and pointed to some objects lying underneath.
Don Cornelio saw they were human heads.

There were three of them.

"Now, my good friend," continued the Colonel of Colonels, "there you see
the head of our old comrade, Lieutenant Lantejas, which we have brought
away from where it was nailed over the gate of the hacienda Del Valle.
Conceive, then, what a lucky thing for us! What a splendid _revanche_
we shall have when, in place of the head of the insurgent Lantejas, we
shall nail up that of Lantejas the royalist spy!"

"But it is a mistake," cried Don Cornelio, rubbing the cold sweat from
his forehead. "I am not a royalist nor a spy neither. I have the
honour to serve the cause of the Independence--"

"Bah! everybody says the same. Besides, without any proofs--"

"But I have proofs. They are in the pocket of my cloak, of which I have
been robbed."

"Who took your cloak?" inquired the Colonel of Colonels.

"Gaspacho," replied Don Cornelio, who had incidentally learnt the name
of the brigand who had despoiled him.

"Ah! that is a terrible misfortune. Gaspacho has just received orders
to go in all haste to Las Cruces. He is off by this time, and will not
likely be back in less than ten days. You, by that time will have lost
your head, and I my cloak and Vicuna hat. Both of them, I know, would
have fitted me, since you and I are both of a size. What a damnable
misfortune for both of us!"

A fearful cry interrupted the dialogue between Don Cornelio and the
Colonel of Colonels. The cry came from the wretched sufferer, who
fainted as soon as uttering it.

Almost at the same instant the alcohol shot up its last flickering
flame--as the spirit itself was consumed; and in the reddish light of
the torches Don Cornelio could perceive the men flitting about like
shadows, or rather like demons assisting in the horrible drama that was
being enacted.

CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT.

THE COMMISSION EXECUTED.

While the Captain Lantejas stood in the midst of an atmosphere that
nearly stifled his