“Speak!” said the guerilla.
“Thou knowest the Empeeinado—thou art in his confidence—his haunts are known to thee;—couldst thou, if at liberty, find him out?”
“Were my foot free upon yonder mountain, I eould within six hours hold Juan Diez by the hand,” returned the condemned.
“Enough. A thousand Napoleons are on his head. Wilt thou place the enemy of France within my power?”
“Never!”
“Think—thy life hangs upon the answer: wilt thou win gold and freedom?” repeated the Frenchman.
“Never!—the word is spoken.”
In a moment the younger Spaniard threw the arm that had remained unshackled around his comrade’s neck.
“Velasquez,” he said, “I doubted thee, and feared that thy courage might fail. Thou hast much to bind thee to life; but is a life of infamy like that false traitor’s,”—and he pointed to the Alcade,—“is such worth holding?—No. But as thou hast addressed this our executioner, so too will I.”
Colonel La Coste knitted his brows together, and the young guerilla thus continued:—