But the tragic aspect of the affair soon changed to a comic one; for when Agostino placed the first of the bodies in an upright position it became apparent that it was only a sort of a scarecrow--a rude figure intended to frighten timid traveller--which being skilfully disposed at the edge of the grove, partly hidden among the trees, looked at a little distance exactly like a brigand--gun and all.

Indeed it really was dressed in the garments of one of his old comrades, who had paid the penalty of his crimes on the gallows.

He apostrophized the figure as he arranged it to his liking, calling it by name, relating some of the brave deeds of its prototype, and bewailing the sad fate that had left him to ply his nefarious trade single-handed, with a rude eloquence that was not wanting in pathos.

Returning to where the others lay, he lifted up one which he reminded Chiquita, represented her father--whose valour and skill he eulogized warmly--whilst the child devoutly made the sign of the cross as she muttered a prayer.

This one being put in position, he carried the remaining figures, one by one, to the places marked for them, keeping up a running commentary upon the ci-devant brigands whose representatives they were, and calling them each repeatedly by name, as if there were a certain sad satisfaction in addressing them in the old, familiar way.
When this queer task was completed, the bandit and his faithful little companion, taking advantage of a flood of moonlight as the clouds drifted away before the wind, went and stood on the road--not very far from their retreat--by which our travellers were to pass, to judge of the effect of their group of brigands.