"At last," said the Tigercat proudly, "I have kept my promise: I have driven the palefaces from this country for ever."
"Not yet," exclaimed Don Pedro, in cutting tones; "look hither."
A sudden change had indeed come over the scene. The vaqueros, up to this time impassive spectators, suddenly charged, the unarmed Indians: Mexican troops fell upon them from all the entrances to the square: and all the windows were manned by whites armed with muskets, who poured down a pitiless fire on the redskins.
In the centre of the square were Don Fernando Carril, Luciano Pedralva, and Don Estevan, who mercilessly rode in upon the Indians, shouting: "Down with them! Down with them! Slay! Slay!"
"¡Caray!" exclaimed Don Torribio, waving the totem; "What horrible treachery is this?" He rushed forward to fly to the side of the redskins; but he tottered—a dark veil obstructed his sight—and he sank on his knees. "God!" cried he, "What has happened to me?"
"You are dying," whispered Don Estevan in his ear; "that is what is happening." And he seized him fiercely by the arm.
"You lie, dog!" said Don Torribio, trying to release himself. "I will go and help my brothers."
"Your brothers are slain, as you intended to have slain tomorrow Don Pedro, Doña Hermosa, Don Fernando, and myself. Die, wretch, with rage at seeing your treachery meet its reward! I have given you leche de palio[1] to drink; you are poisoned."
"Ah!" said he despairingly, and dragging himself on his knees to the edge of the platform; "Woe to me; woe; God is just."
In the square the Mexicans were making a horrible carnage. "Remember Don José de Kalbris," they cried; "revenge Major Barnum!"