the corpses with a fitful lustre, lending an increased ghastliness to each figure as it swayed backwards and forwards in the breeze. The priest covered both his eyes with his hands, and turned in disgust from the sight: but a word from one of the bystanders thrilled his soul with even a redoubled horror.
"Bacho is caught at last!" exclaimed a voice in the crowd.
"Oh! that villain Bacho!" repeated another.
"Look how he swings!" humorously shouted a third.
The priest rushed wildly to the foot of the tree indicated, and gazed on the features of the corpse upon it. The lineaments of the face were distorted; but as the light shone brightly, he saw it was unquestionably the face of his brother, the cumanche! With a low growl—not of grief, but of rage—he hastily retreated to his carriage; and, with loud imprecations, commanded his attendants to convey him swiftly home.
He had never cared for his brother: he had, on the contrary, hated, despised, and disowned him. But the thought that any connection of his had been executed in such a summary manner by the orders of the Ameri-
