Mina fixed his keen dark eye with a glance of displeasure upon Chisholm's good-natured countenance, but made no reply to him.
"Juan de la Roca!" cried he, in a voice like thunder, while he struck his foot impatiently on the frozen snow.
"Senor?" answered a childish voice; and a tall Spanish boy about sixteen years of age stood before him. This mere child fought in the band of Mina.
He was esteemed the bravest among them and always led their advanced guard, and his name had been blazoned forth in all the Gacetas of the country.
"Bring the spy before us."
The boy, Juan de la Roca, who was armed like his comrades with pistols and carbine, dragged forward a peasant, whose arms were bound with cords behind him. The poor wretch trembled violently when the proud stern eye of Mina fell upon him.
"This is a notorious spy, senores," said he, "whom we captured on our way up the mountains. Now, Senor Picaro, what have you to say that you should not die?"
The spy never raised his eyes, and maintained a dogged silence.
"Brand him, Juan!" exclaimed Mina. "Place the mark of Cain upon his forehead, that every true Spaniard may shun, abhor, and shrink from him!"
The young savage, whom practice had rendered expert at the operation, unsheathed his dagger, and cut off the ear of the captive, from whom a deep imprecation escaped. Juan then thrust into the picquet-fire in the block-house, an iron brand, just such as those used for marking barrels, &c. It bore the words "VIVA MINA!" in letters half an inch square. Four powerful guerillas grasped the head of the spy, holding him so that it was impossible he could move. When the brand was red-hot La Roca pressed it upon his brow, the flesh of which was roasted and scorched, under the terrible operation, in a moment. The miserable being writhed and shrieked in agony. He burst from his torturers, and buried his face in the snow; then starting up with the yell of a fiend, he rushed down the mountains like a madman, and disappeared.