Lantejas brought the two stones into collision with a loud crack.
The sentry heard the concussion, suddenly halted in his steps, brought his piece to the “ready,” and stood listening.
The Captain gave the second signal. The stone and arrows hissed simultaneously through the air; and, struck by all three, the soldier fell dead without even uttering a cry.
“Go! scatter yourselves among the bushes,” cried Costal, hurriedly; “the rest I can manage better without you.”
Don Cornelio and the Indians, in obedience to Costal’s injunction, glided from behind the wall, and crept forward among the aloes.
As they were advancing, directly in front of them, there arose the cry, “Alerta, centinela!” It came from the place where the sentry had just fallen; and Don Cornelio, on looking in that direction, perceived, to his horror and surprise, that the man was once more upon his feet, and walking his rounds as if nothing had happened!
Lantejas turned to demand an explanation from Costal, but the latter was nowhere to be seen. The Captain then faced towards the other Indians; but these, instead of concealing themselves any longer behind the bushes, had risen erect, and were running past the sentinel, who seemed to take no notice of them!
A ray of light broke upon the mind of the innocent Lantejas.
“Santissima!” cried he, “the sentinel—it must be Costal himself!”
And so it was. The living had replaced the dead; and so aptly did Costal imitate the voice and movements of the soldier who had fallen, that the other sentries along the line had not the slightest suspicion of the change that had taken place.