"What do you say, villain?" Don Mariano exclaimed.
"I say that your brother knows all, my fine gentleman, and will succeed in foiling your plans."
"Viper! what have I done to make you act thus towards me?"
"You did nothing," he replied, with a demoniac grin; "but," he added, pointing to Don Miguel, "I have hated that man for a long time."
"Die, then, villain!" the exasperated young man shouted, as he set the cold muzzle of his rifle on his forehead.
Flying Eagle turned the weapon aside.
"This man is mine, brother," he said.
Don Miguel slowly removed his rifle, and turned to the Chief. "I consent; but on condition that he dies."
A sinister smile played for a second round the Indian's thin lips. "Yes," he said, "and by an Apache, death." Then, unfastening the bow he wore by the side of his panther skin quiver, he placed the string round the Gambusino's skull, and, forming a tourniquet, by means of an arrow passed through the string, while, with his knee buried between the wretch's shoulders, he seized his hair in his right hand, and drew it to him. He scalped in this manner, inflicting on him the most abominable torture that can be imagined, since, instead of cutting the skin with his knife, he literally tore it off by means of the string. The bandit, with his face inundated with blood, and disfigured features, clasped his hands by a supreme effort, exclaiming, with an expression impossible to describe—"Kill me! oh, for pity's sake, kill me!"
The Comanche placed his furious face close to the bandit's. "Traitors are not killed," he said, in a hollow voice. And then, seizing him by the neck, he thrust the blade of his knife between the clenched teeth, forced the mouth open, and tore out his tongue, which he threw from him in disgust. "Die like a dog!" he yelled; "thy lying tongue shall betray never more."