And what of Don Felipe? How was he passing the night? Did he know the charge to be brought against him in this most irregular court? and would he be able to clear himself? I wondered.
So thinking and dreaming, between sleep and wakefulness, I lay on the chief's bed, while the long hours rolled slowly away.
CHAPTER XXI.
ROUGH JUSTICE.
I did not take much rousing in the morning, and even before remembering the exact circumstances, felt oppressed by the weight of coming sorrow. I breakfasted alone, Sorillo sending a profuse apology for not being able to join me, though I was rather glad than otherwise at his absence.
Leaving the hut, I went into the ravine. There were perhaps a hundred men in sight, all armed, and apparently waiting for some signal. Their comrades, no doubt, had been dispatched on an errand, or were guarding the neighbouring passes. In front of Don Felipe's hut stood a sentry, and, somewhat to my surprise, I now noticed a second hut, slightly lower down and similarly guarded.
"Two prisoners!" I thought. "I wonder who the other is? Sorillo did not mention him."
Nearer the head of the ravine some soldiers were at work, and going towards them I beheld a strange and significant sight. In the side of the hill was a natural platform, broad and spacious, while round it stretched in a semicircle a wide stone seat, which the men were covering with bright red cloth. Below the platform stood a ring of soldiers with impassive faces.
I was still wondering what this might mean, when Sorillo, touching my arm, led me to the centre of the stone seat, saying, "Sit there; you shall be a witness that the people of the Silver Key treat their enemies justly."