When the fight was over, and order restored at the post, the Captain bade his Lieutenant have the bodies lying on the battlefield picked up and hung by the feet to the trees on the plain, so that they might become the prey of wild beasts, though not until they had been decapitated. The heads were to remain exposed on the walls of the forts, and act as an object of terror to the bandits, who, after this act of summary justice, would not venture to approach the neighbourhood of the post.
Then, when all these orders had been given, the Commandant returned to his residence, where Don Ruiz had already preceded him in order to re-assure his sister as to the result of the fight. Don Marcos was radiant: he had gained a great advantage—at least he thought so—over the border ruffians; he had inflicted on them an exemplary punishment at the expense of an insignificant loss, and supposed that for a long time no one would venture to attack the post entrusted to him.
Unfortunately, the wood ranger was not of the same opinion: each time the Captain smiled and rubbed his hands at the recollection of some episode in the fight, Stronghand shook his head sadly, and frowned anxiously. This was done so frequently, that at last the worthy Commandant was compelled to take notice of it.
"What's the matter with you now?" he asked him, with an air half vexed, half pleased. "You are, on my soul, the most extraordinary man I know. Nothing satisfies you; you are always in a bad temper. Hang it! I do not know how to treat you. Did we not give those scoundrels a remarkable thrashing, eh? Come, answer!"
"I allow it," the hunter replied laconically.
"Hum! It is lucky you allow so much. And yet they fought bravely, I fancy."
"Yes; and it is that which frightens me."
"I do not understand you."
"Was I not giving you important information when we were interrupted by the Cabo Hernandez?"
"That is to say, you were going to give it me."