The grim smile which accompanies his words shows that he means them in jest only as regards the manner of proceeding. For the earnestness of his intention there is that in his eyes—a fierce, lurid light, which Roblez can read.
In rejoinder the adjutant asks,—
“You are still resolved upon the death of the prisoners?”
“Still resolved! Carramba! An idle question, after what has occurred! They die within the hour. We shall try, condemn, and then have them shot.”
“I thought you had arranged it in a different way?”
“So I had. But circumstances alter cases. There’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip, and I’ve just heard of one. The Horned Lizard has failed me.”
“How so, colonel?”
“You see that Indian outside. He’s one of my muleteers I’d sent as a messenger to the Tenawa town. He returns to tell me there’s no Horned Lizard in existence, and only a remnant of his tribe. Himself, with the best of his braves, has gone to the happy hunting grounds; not voluntarily, but sent thither by a party of Tejanos who fell foul of them on a foray.”
“That’s a strange tale,” rejoins Roblez, adding, “And Barbato?”
“Dead, too—gone with his red-skinned associates.”