“Here, Captain!”
“Strike up, then! Play ‘Yankee Doodle’. Ha! ha! ha! ‘Yankee Doodle’, do you hear?”
“Yes, Captain,” answered the man; and the next moment the well-known strains of the American national air sounded upon my ear, producing a strange, sad feeling I shall never forget.
“Now, Lopez!” cried the padre.
I was expecting to be swung out, when I heard him again shout, “Stay!” at the same time stopping the music.
“By heavens! Lopez, I have a better plan,” he cried: “why did I not think of it before? It’s not too late yet. Ha! ha! ha! Carambo! They shall dance upon their heads! That’s better—isn’t it, Lopez?”
“Yes, Captain.”
A cheer from the Jarochos announced their approval of this change in the programme.
The padre made a sign to Lopez, who approached him, appearing to receive some directions.
I did not at first comprehend the novelty that was about to be introduced. I was not kept long in ignorance. One of the Jarochos, seizing me by the collar, dragged me back from the ledge, and transferred the noose from my neck to my ankles. Horror heaped upon horror! I was to be hung head downwards!